Death in St James's Park: 8 (Exploits of Thomas Chaloner)

by Gregory, Susanna

  ‘You treacherous snake, Morland,’ shouted Lamb, struggling furiously as Gery’s soldiers hustled him away. ‘You were always one of us. Indeed, some of the ideas were yours, such as how to forge Bishop-Marks and the machine that opens letters.’

  ‘Will they be hanged, sir?’ asked Morland, contemptuously turning his back on him. ‘It seems your safest option.’

  ‘No,’ replied the Earl. ‘I shall ship them to Jamaica. We do not want the general public to lose faith in the Post Office by executing this many felonious officials.’

  O’Neill offered to help the soldiers escort Bishop and his clerks to Newgate, and as it was an odd thing for a Controller to do, Chaloner started to follow, but the Earl called him back.

  ‘We have not finished here yet,’ he said softly. ‘You cannot leave.’

  Chaloner watched them go, hoping Gery’s men would be equal to keeping hold of their prisoners – and equal to protecting them, too, should O’Neill decide that it might be better for him if they never reached their destination. Then he turned his mind to more important matters. ‘The Devill’s Worke is—’

  ‘The Devill’s Worke!’ sneered Morland. ‘He does not know what he is talking about, sir. Allow me to explain what is really going on.’

  Chaloner chafed with growing agitation as Morland gave a highly subjective, rambling and largely untrue account of what had happened, punctuated by irrelevant asides from Gery, who was eager not to lose too much glory to his self-serving underling. It was a shocking waste of valuable time, but Chaloner could not speak loudly enough to contradict them. Eventually, the Earl silenced Morland with a flap of his hand and turned questioning eyes on his intelligencer.

  ‘Lamb overheard Rea talking yesterday, sir,’ croaked Chaloner. ‘The Devill’s Worke will—’

  ‘He is overwrought,’ interrupted Morland, patting Chaloner’s arm patronisingly, but desisting hastily when he saw the dark expression on the spy’s face. ‘Lamb and Harper came close to killing him, and it has affected his judgement. Nothing bad will happen today.’

  ‘It was your own fault that rescue was delayed, Chaloner,’ added Gery with a spiteful grin. Chaloner supposed he should not be surprised that the marshal still considered him an enemy, given what had happened on the banks of the Thames. ‘I went to the Crown first, because that is where you said this great crisis would be. We lost God knows how many precious minutes before the Earl told us to come here instead.’

  ‘Was Dorislaus waiting to brief you?’ Chaloner could only hope that the Earl would remember enough of their earlier conversation to distil truth from all the lies that were being spun.

  ‘Who is Dorislaus?’ asked the Earl.

  Chaloner’s throat hurt too much to explain. ‘Where is Williamson?’

  ‘I sent for him, but he never responded,’ replied the Earl. ‘Perhaps he is away from home. I rounded up as many of his men as I could find, but they were pitifully few, so I was obliged to use Gery’s soldiers, too. However, I thought they rose to the occasion ably enough. Where is Thurloe?’

  Chaloner shook his head to say he did not know. He was now sure something was wrong, because the ex-Spymaster would have come had he been able.

  ‘You did well, Chaloner,’ said the Earl, poring over the paper snatched at such cost.

  ‘We all did, sir,’ said Morland smoothly. ‘I confess there were times when I thought Bishop might best me, but you arrived to save the day. It is over now, and we can all go home.’

  ‘It is not over and—’ Chaloner tried to speak more loudly when Morland interrupted again, but only succeeded in making himself cough.

  ‘Who would have thought that the Post Office would harbour so many villains?’ the secretary sighed. ‘Thank God we have rooted them all out. We can sleep easy in our beds tonight.’

  ‘No, we cannot,’ said the Earl sharply. ‘Chaloner is right – this business is far from over. And Freer is fetching someone who may be able to help us decide what to do next. Ah. Here he is now.’

  Chaloner turned to see Freer walking through the door. Behind him were the Major and his two yeomen. The Major was ashen-faced and frightened, an expression that intensified tenfold when he saw Harper’s body.

  ‘Christ God!’ he breathed. ‘What is going on? Why have you brought me here?’

  ‘We owe you an apology,’ said the Earl briskly. ‘Something catastrophic is about to happen, and Gery was wrong to insist that we ignore vital parts of your intelligence.’

  Gery opened his mouth to argue, but the Earl glowered so fiercely that he shut it again without speaking. Chaloner sagged with relief that his master was finally standing up to the man.

  ‘Tell us about this Devill’s Worke, Major,’ the Earl ordered.

  ‘But it is probably too late to do anything about it now,’ cried the Major, distressed. ‘And why should I believe this sudden change of heart after so many weeks?’

  ‘Because it will be treason to do otherwise,’ replied the Earl coolly.

  The Major gulped, but remained defiant. ‘What will you do? Lock me in the Tower?’

  ‘Oh, I think I can devise something a little more colourful than that,’ said the Earl in a softly menacing voice that Chaloner had never heard him use before. ‘I have been blind, thinking about my son, but my eyes are open now, and they are looking for felons who harm my country.’

  The Major nodded slowly. ‘Well, as you seem to be taking me seriously at last, I shall tell you what I suspect, and pray to God that you are in time to act. I have heard whispers about Palmer and the book he is to publish. It is on an unpopular subject by a man London hates – they see him as responsible for his wife’s peccadilloes.’

  Understanding flashed in Chaloner’s mind. ‘The assassination? It will be him?’

  ‘I cannot say for certain, but it makes sense,’ replied the Major. ‘I have been afraid that I might be the target, but on reflection, I do not think I am sufficiently important. Not any more. I might have been eighteen months ago, but I am nothing now.’

  ‘True,’ agreed the Earl baldly. ‘Chaloner, go and tell Palmer to stay at home until further notice. Take Gery and Freer with you. Palmer is a decent man, and I will not see his blood spilled.’

  ‘He will probably be at Speed’s shop on Fleet Street,’ said Chaloner, although he had no idea of the time. ‘His book will be sold for the first time today.’

  ‘Well, go there, then,’ said the Earl irritably. ‘And Morland will walk to Newgate, to ensure that Bishop and his creatures are properly secured.’

  ‘I will go with Morland,’ offered Freer quickly, making Chaloner suspect that he was not the only one who distrusted the slippery secretary. ‘While Chaloner and Gery save Palmer.’

  ‘You will go where I say,’ barked the Earl. ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’

  ‘Even an assassination is not the worst you should expect today, sir,’ rasped Chaloner, risking a reprimand by not immediately scrambling to obey like the others, Morland smirking gloatingly at Freer as he went. ‘There is still John Fry.’

  ‘I know,’ said the Earl shortly. ‘But unless you have learned something new, we have no idea how to go about apprehending him. However, we can save Palmer. And while you do, the Major and I will sit here and review all he has learned. Perhaps we can find answers between us.’

  Chaloner was alarmed. ‘You cannot stay here! O’Neill may return.’

  ‘He will not. He is enjoying himself too much crowing over Bishop. But why should it matter if he comes back anyway?’

  Chaloner did not want to level accusations when he had no solid evidence. Besides, there were more pressing matters to address before he left. ‘Thurloe,’ he rasped to the Major. ‘Last night …’

  The Major looked away. ‘I was a coward, and refused to tell him what he wanted to know. I am sorry, but I was frightened. I still am.’

  ‘Was Dorislaus with him?’

  ‘Yes, although he kept his distance. They left together, but I do not know where the
y went. Why?’

  ‘Ask this later,’ said the Earl warningly. ‘You are wasting time and Palmer’s life is at stake.’

  ‘Just one more thing,’ said the Major, catching Chaloner’s arm as he turned to leave. ‘I cannot vouch for its truth, but I heard a whisper in the Antwerp that the assassins may be two veterans from the New Model Army. I believe their names are Stokes and Cliffe.’

  Chaloner’s heart sank. He did not want to challenge soldiers who had fought bravely for their country and were disillusioned with what they had spilled blood to achieve.

  ‘Parliamentarians,’ said the Earl with pursed lips. ‘I might have known.’

  Outside the Post Office, Chaloner glanced towards Storey’s house, but there was no sign of Dorislaus. He faltered, his heart clamouring at him to forget Palmer and concentrate on finding Thurloe, but he knew he would be wasting his time – as Dorislaus had pointed out, he did not know where to start.

  ‘I was beginning to think you were not coming,’ said Gery, as Chaloner caught up with him and Freer on Dowgate Hill. ‘Are you frightened? Stay behind, then. We can manage without you.’

  ‘Ignore him, Tom,’ murmured Freer. ‘He is just vexed that it was you, not he, who exposed the corrupt clerks after all his efforts. But watch yourself – he is a vengeful enemy.’

  Chaloner did not need to be told. He said nothing, concentrating on reaching Fleet Street as quickly as possible. It was snowing, great white flakes settling in a thick carpet that made moving at speed difficult. As before, the roads were devoid of traders and carts, and most of those braving the bitter weather were men who had gathered on street corners or in gangs outside taverns and coffee houses. Many wore items of clothing that marked their affiliation to a particular guild, and the atmosphere was tense and strained.

  Chaloner set a cracking pace, partly to reach Speed’s shop quickly, but more to prevent Gery or Freer from engaging him in conversation. He was confused, desperately worried about Thurloe, and his throat hurt. Unfortunately, they kept pace. Gery was angry.

  ‘You made me look like a fool,’ he snarled. Chaloner was about to retort that Gery had done that all by himself, when he saw the marshal’s gaze was fixed not on him, but on Freer. ‘You encouraged me to explore the corruption, while all along the real plot was assassination.’

  ‘Do not blame your failings on me,’ objected Freer. ‘I made suggestions, but you did not have to follow them. It is good that Morland used his initiative, or blood would have been spilled today, and not just Chaloner’s.’

  ‘We both know Morland is corrupt,’ said Gery. He stopped running, and grabbed the front of Freer’s coat. ‘And so are you.’

  ‘Me?’ Freer struggled to pull himself loose, while Chaloner hesitated, torn between listening to the quarrel and hurrying to help Palmer. ‘I have done nothing wrong.’

  ‘You are in someone’s pay.’ Gery tightened his grip. ‘Morland is his own man in that he betrays everyone, but you have a master. Who is it?’

  ‘I do not!’ cried Freer. ‘You are deranged. Get him off me, Chaloner.’

  Chaloner’s first instinct was to oblige, to side with the man he liked, but Morland’s words about not knowing who he could trust clamoured at him. The secretary was certainly right about that. When he hesitated, Gery flung Freer away and hauled out his rapier.

  ‘Draw,’ the marshal said furiously. ‘Prove your innocence with your blade.’

  ‘And give you an excuse to kill me?’ asked Freer archly. ‘I do not think so! We both know you are the better swordsman – you will skewer me in an instant. Now put up your weapon and—’

  ‘You damned traitor,’ snarled Gery. Freer ducked behind Chaloner, who was forced to whip out his own weapon to protect them both as Gery flailed wildly in an effort to reach his target.

  ‘Stop him, Tom,’ shouted Freer. He drew his sword, but prevented Chaloner from stepping back to let him fight his own battle by taking hold of the spy’s coat. ‘He has already murdered Knight and Ibson. He would have murdered you, too, if you had not escaped from that cell.’

  ‘Who paid you to betray me, Freer?’ demanded Gery, intensifying his attack. He was strong and determined, and Chaloner was hard-pressed to keep him at bay. ‘Who is your master?’

  ‘Someone who is twice the man you will ever be,’ hissed Freer, a remark that made Chaloner turn to look at him sharply. But not for long – Freer’s response goaded the marshal into a series of viciously slashing blows that forced Chaloner to concentrate on him again.

  ‘Enough!’ he shouted hoarsely. ‘We do not have time for this. Palmer will—’

  ‘Forget Palmer,’ snapped Freer. ‘He is nothing. Save me from Gery, and I will tell John Fry what you have done. You will not regret it, I promise. London will burn today, and once it is gone in all its filthy corruption, we shall look to a better, brighter future.’

  Chaloner regarded him in horror, and Gery might have used his inattention to stab him had he not been standing in open-mouthed shock himself. Then the marshal shook himself and took a firmer grip on his sword for another assault, but at that moment a huge band of apprentices from the Company of Barber-Surgeons slouched past, identifiable by their scarlet hoods. They were bellowing a Parliamentarian victory song that Chaloner had not heard since his youth. They cast defiant glances at three little gaggles of fishmongers, cutlers and glaziers, but the smaller groups prudently declined to meet their challenge.

  ‘Help!’ yelled Freer, pulling off his Cavalier hat and tossing it and his sword away. ‘These two villains mean to kill me because I fought for Cromwell. And you can see I am unarmed.’

  Rational men would have noticed the discarded weapon and headwear, but the apprentices were spoiling for a fight and Freer’s claim provided the perfect pretext. They surged forward eagerly, brandishing sticks and knives.

  ‘We are officers from White Hall,’ declared Gery indignantly. Chaloner winced – it was hardly the wisest of claims to make to a mob with Roundhead leanings. ‘Back off immediately or I—’

  ‘Two debauched libertines!’ shouted one lad. ‘About to murder an honest Roundhead. Will we stand by and let this happen?’

  There was a resounding howl that they would not.

  Chaloner was appalled. How much carnage would there be before they realised that sticks and daggers were no match for swords?

  ‘Finish them, lads,’ urged Freer. ‘Show them what proud Parliamentarians can do.’

  ‘Stop,’ ordered Gery angrily. ‘We are trying to save the life of a— I said stop!’

  The youths advanced purposefully, brandishing their staves.

  ‘The world will change today and you two cannot stop it,’ yelled Freer over his shoulder as he raced for the safety of an alley. ‘Long live the republic and long live John Fry!’

  There was an answering cheer from the apprentices. Grimly, Chaloner gripped his sword and waited for the slaughter to begin.

  ‘Wait,’ cried the spokesman suddenly, raising his hand just as the skirmish was about to commence. ‘This one is a friend of Surgeon Wiseman. I have seen them together several times.’

  ‘Lord!’ breathed another. ‘We had better let them go then, because we dare not annoy Wiseman. We might end up being the subject of a public anatomy.’

  They were gone without another word, linking arms and bawling a rebellious chant as they marched down Dowgate Hill. Chaloner sheathed his sword quickly and indicated that Gery should do the same before someone else saw a drawn weapon as an invitation to attack. Gery did, albeit reluctantly, and hurried to the alley up which Freer had disappeared. It was empty.

  ‘So both were traitors,’ he said bitterly. ‘Morland and Freer. I supposed you guessed?’

  ‘I have known Morland for a long time,’ replied Chaloner carefully, acutely aware that the wrong response might encourage Gery to turn on him, and they did not have time to play out personal animosities.

  ‘And Freer? Did you suspect him of being in John Fry’s pay?’

&
nbsp; ‘No. I liked him.’

  ‘I did, too. We have been friends for years. Or so I thought.’

  ‘You are not the only one he used.’ Chaloner spoke with difficulty. ‘He told me that you were either inefficient or corrupt – he wanted you to bear the blame for the investigation’s failure, and me to ensure that Clarendon knew it.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Gery, stunned anew.

  ‘Presumably so that when you eventually explained that most of your tactics and decisions were actually Freer’s ideas, it would look like sour grapes on your part and no one would believe you.’

  ‘The bastard! I will kill him when this is over and … Wait! Where are you going?’

  Chaloner wondered whether the marshal had lost what scant wits he seemed to possess. ‘To prevent Palmer from being murdered.’

  ‘No! You heard Freer – John Fry plans to destroy London today, and rescuing an unpopular cuckold is hardly the best way to prevent it.’

  It was a little late to be worrying about that, thought Chaloner acidly. Fry’s plot might not have gained such momentum if Gery had not let Freer convince him to ignore half the Major’s intelligence. ‘Then return to the Earl and ask him for directions. I am going to Palmer.’

  He started running again, thankful when Gery did not follow. Now he might be able to convince Stokes and Cliffe of the madness of their cause before any damage was done, something that would have been impossible with the marshal breathing fire at his elbow.

  His heart sank when he saw the crowd outside Speed’s shop, which included unruly apprentices and folk whose austere clothes said that they were the more militant kind of Puritan. All were chanting anti-Catholic slogans. He was relieved to see that none of the Rainbow’s patrons had accepted Speed’s invitation, although he was more sorry than he could say to spot Stokes and Cliffe among the throng. Bulges in their coats told him that both carried guns.

  ‘No,’ he said softly, approaching Stokes and grabbing his arm. ‘I know what you intend, and you must stop. It is lunacy and will change nothing.’