State of Treason

by Paul Walker

  I say, ‘I hear that you are on good terms with Rosamund from the Morton household.’

  ‘Yes sir, we are comfortable together.’

  ‘I know you are eager to learn more of the gathering and preparation of herbal cures from her.’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘In that case we will arrange meetings for your education and companionship.’ She smiles and bows her head in thankful acknowledgement. ‘You could offer me a great service through your conversations with Rosamund, Mistress Hilliard.’ Her head is low, but I detect an air of suspicion in her manner.

  ‘What would that be, sir?’

  ‘Rosamund’s Mistress, the lady Helen is… someone I hold in high regard.’

  ‘That is plain from the way you gaze at each other.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes, Ros and I have talked on it and we are glad that you share a… fondness.’

  ‘It is a delicate matter and…’

  ‘Sir, I have known you for more than twenty years and you should not be timid on my account. Do you wish me to pass a message to the lady Helen?’

  ‘It is information that I seek, not the exchange of messages, at least not at present.’

  She leans forward, eager to learn more. I hesitate, undecided how best to express my wishes.

  ‘There may come a time when I… we would wish for a closeness and the approach must be managed with care. I have heard rumours about Helen’s birth and that… that Sir George’s late wife may not be her natural mother.’ Her eyes widen and she clasps her hands primly. I know she would not wish to be a party to intrusive probing into private matters, so I must soften my request. ‘Helen’s parentage is no concern to me. She could be born from the lowest circumstance for all that I care. But I would not wish to give offence by enquiring directly, or be the cause of discomfort in Sir George who may feel obliged to reveal certain facts before confirmation of our… more intimate connection.’

  She relaxes a little and replies, ‘Such rumours are often unfounded and spread by unknowing mischief makers. If it is true then Helen, herself may not know.’

  ‘In that case I would not disclose the intelligence to her, but, as you say, there is likely nothing to this rumour.’

  ‘Well sir, then I will be happy to help if I can.’

  ‘Thank you, Mistress Hilliard. Please do not share the nature of this delicate mission with anyone. It must be our secret.’

  I am relieved when our discussion ends. My subtle use of Mistress Hilliard’s willing disposition should weigh on my conscience, but the importance of the enterprise frees me of feelings of guilt.

  Twenty-Three

  It is Monday and the day I had planned to take receipt of my instrument from Master Chap. My intention is spoiled by another summons from Mister Secretary who has sent two men for my escort. I will not ask Hicks to visit Master Chap in my place as I wish to examine the piece before parting with payment. I can only hope that my meeting at Whitehall is a brief one.

  I arrive at the Palace of Whitehall as the bells signal ten o’clock and am ushered directly to Sir Francis’s quarters. I am kept waiting in the anteroom I remember from my earlier summons on that dark night. It is a wait of over one hour before Padget enters and bids me follow him. Sir Francis is seated at his table and Mylles is in attendance, standing at his shoulder. They continue to converse in low voices until Mylles bows to Walsingham and takes his leave with only a cursory acknowledgement of my presence. This is not a warm welcome and the air of both men suggests that this will not be an easy meeting. Perhaps I imagine hostility where there is none, but I cannot rid myself of a feeling that my loyalty will be called into question yet again. I doff my cap and bow as graciously as my sling will allow.

  ‘Good day, Mister Secretary, it is a privilege to be invited to your chambers again.’

  ‘Doctor Constable, you are improved in your appearance since our last meeting. Do your injuries heal well?’

  ‘Quite well, thank you, Sir Francis.’

  He drums his fingers on the table and pauses as if choosing his next words with care.

  I take the initiative and say, ‘I have heard from Doctor Foxe of the discovery of a pamphlet. Has the printer or author been found?’

  He ignores my question and says, ‘Do you have a view on whether that pamphlet has a connection with the astrological conspiracy?’

  So, the conspiracy has a term now, which links it to all who study the stars.

  ‘I understand there was no mention of the stars or the gender of the supposed royal bastard and it would appear to be unrelated. Doctor Foxe tells me that there have been several similar tracts printed over the years, which insult Her Majesty in this way.’

  ‘Yes, exactly so. I have a leaning towards your opinion, nevertheless we will continue our search for those involved in the distribution and printing of this pamphlet. It will be hard for them when they are found.’ He steeples his fingers and stares at me directly as though he is examining my unspoken thoughts. ‘You are on good terms with a gentleman named Joynes, I understand.’

  ‘Yes, Richard Joynes, who I know from my time at Cambridge.’

  ‘What is your judgement of him?’

  ‘My judgement? He is sound man of good faith and balanced humors. He is good company and has helped me with introductions at court.’

  ‘He has been accused of speaking in a way that insults Her Majesty. In particular, that he talked about a secret bastard child.’

  ‘I… I find that difficult to believe. Who accuses him?’

  ‘He is named by two men: Sir Peter Capton and Arthur Perse.’

  ‘Why, that is absurd. Those are the two names I gave to your man, Mylles, as those who had spoken of such a thing.’

  ‘Yes, and they denied it strongly when questioned by Mylles. It seems that now they have remembered hearing those vile words spoken by Joynes and have reported back to Mylles. Also, the Earl of Oxford has vouched for the character and truthfulness of these men.’

  Oxford – why would he become involved in these petty accusations and counter-arguments? Is it vindictiveness or some other motive that drives these men to denounce Joynes?

  I say, ‘How does Richard Joynes answer this charge?’

  ‘He waits for questioning. I would have your view on the matter first.’ He pauses. ‘There is more. You were named as the man in discussion with Joynes.’

  ‘Me. No, this is too much. You cannot believe such a charge, Sir Francis. But why… why would they seek to lay these false allegations, unless…’

  ‘Unless?’

  ‘It may simply be spite and a dislike for me and Joynes.’

  ‘Why would they harbour a grudge against you and Joynes?’

  ‘I can only think that Capton and Perse knew that it was me who mentioned their names to Mylles. Perhaps they seek some form of petty revenge by this counter-accusation.’

  ‘How would they know?’

  ‘I suppose it must have been learned from Mylles.’

  Walsingham narrows his eyes. ‘You believe my man would have been so careless?’

  ‘Perhaps it was a reason other than lack of care. Mylles may harbour a jealousy of me for the quick solving of the coded message. I considered his praise for that when we first met was too extravagant, and his subsequent manner to me has been less than friendly. Also, I was surprised that his questioning of Capton and Perse was so gentle and brief.’

  I have a feeling that I must not be submissive in my answers and will be better served by a willingness to surprise Sir Francis with the force of my responses. But, have I been too direct in mistrusting the motives of a trusted servant? He continues to fix me with a disconcerting and piercing gaze, but remains silent.

  Eventually, he says, ‘I sense that you consider these men may have another reason for naming you and Joynes. Please, continue to speak your mind.’

  ‘Well, it may be that… that they wish to muddy the waters and distract our search for the conspirators. The attack failed
to kill me and so they looked for another way to put me aside.’

  Will he regard this as a fanciful and vain statement? I must hope that he sees some merit in the suggestion or it may go badly for me – and Richard Joynes.

  He considers for a moment, then says, ‘Your speech is unguarded and dangerous in other places, but it is said in the way of an intelligencer, and is welcome in this chamber.’ He pauses again. ‘But I do not believe that Capton and Perse have the strength of character to be knowing parties to the conspiracy.’

  Walsingham leaves something left unsaid about Oxford and I do not dare mention his name without any logic to support a connection. A dislike of the Earl by John and myself will not serve as an excuse to bring his name within the boundaries of the conspiracy.

  His manner towards me begins to ease. He changes our topic of conversation and enquires after John’s health. I suspect that this is Mister Secretary’s way of reminding me that he has a trusted associate who is able to report on my comings and goings, as well as any lapses in behaviour or speech that may suggest disloyalty. I ask what will become of Richard Joynes and he replies that he will be released, assuming that his answers complement mine. I leave his presence, surviving his suspicions and questioning for a third time. I am indeed a fortunate man, as I am sure many innocents in similar positions have fared much worse.

  I feel obliged to call on Forester before I depart Whitehall. He tells me that he had heard of my incapacity and did not expect to see me, but that he would be grateful for my quick return. Doctor Huicke has been taken ill with a severe chill and a bed has been set for him in his chamber here. Despite my eagerness to be gone I offer to consult with Huicke. Forester shrugs and says that he doubts I can assist in a quick recovery. Another physician has seen him, but that visit ended in a calamity as, when Huicke was bled he snatched the bleeding knife and attacked the doctor before turning the knife on himself and scoring many deep marks on his arms.

  Forester says, ‘The room was a bloody mess; Huicke was raving and threatening all who came near. Guards had to be called and no other doctor will attend him in his present state.’

  ‘Is he watched?’

  ‘He has been strapped to his cot as his fevered mind cannot be trusted. His chill was caught through wandering outside at night in his bed shirt in the sleeting rain. I fear there will have to be a new principal physician as he is surely not long for this world.’

  I am taken to his chamber and he is indeed a pitiable sight. His heavily-bandaged arms are stained with blood and his head jerks from side to side. When he notices our entry, he sobs like a babe and begs to be freed. His straps are too severe and I ask Forester’s help in easing them a little. He gives an expression of distaste, but obliges by easing a strap one notch before leaving to attend his urgent duties. I am alone with Huicke. He stares at me with pleading eyes and utters a strange mewing sound. There is heavy secretion of mucus and snot around his mouth. I take a linen cloth and wipe it as clean as I can. His breathing is laboured and it is clear that his body suffers with a bad chill, but if he is strong enough, kept warm and dry with regular feeding of meat broth and fortified wine, he should survive. It is his mind that poses a greater hazard and I know of no remedy for one as tortured as his. It is the general view of physicians that those with illnesses of the brain should have their heads shaved and be regularly bled from cuts around the temples. I will have no part in a treatment like this; not because it is cruel or demeaning, but I hold no prospect of its success.

  He gestures with his head and bids me draw near. He whispers something I cannot hear clearly. I move a little closer.

  ‘Beware young man. There is danger in this place.’

  I take a step back. ‘Why do you say this?’

  ‘Your head is too full of invention. They will have it. They will lop it from your shoulders.’

  He starts to laugh; a soft low chuckle which grows too loud and uncontrolled laughter mingled with coughs, dribbling and other unpleasant emissions. It is not a pretty state that he presents, but I can do no more and exit with some relief.

  *

  It is too late in the day when I return home to visit Master Chap, so I meet with Hicks and request that all is ready for us to make the journey early the next morning. I write a note to Sir George advising that I will have a model of the instrument tomorrow and offer to bring it to him at a time of his convenience. It is perhaps, tempting providence to pen this note before an inspection of Chap’s workmanship, but I am impatient for another visit to Leadenhall. Mistress Hilliard called upon Rosamund there yesterday afternoon and I have not had the opportunity to speak to her alone since then. I must not appear too eager, or press her too quickly for any news about Helen, so I will wait for her approach to me on this matter.

  Twenty-Four

  We arrive at Master Chap’s early in the morning, which is fine, but cold with frozen puddles on the streets and daggers of ice hanging from the houses. Chap’s son, Peter, greets us at the door and leads us through to the workshop, where his father is busy fashioning a block of wood with chisel and hammer.

  ‘Good day Master Chap, I am sorry we are late to receive my commission. I trust that it is ready?’

  ‘Good day to you in return, gentlemen. Yes, the article was ready for you on the appointed day.’

  He moves to a wooden box in the corner and gently lifts the instrument in both hands from the safety of a bed of sawdust. It is everything I had hoped; a finely polished and slender architecture of dark wood with gleaming brass reinforcements and joints. I take it with my right hand and rock it softly to-and-fro to feel its balance and sturdiness. My left arm will not allow me to test its use between outstretched arm and eye, so I pass it to Hicks and ask him to hold it as would a ship’s navigator. All the fittings are attached to the shaft securely and the rotation of the eye slit along the arc is smooth. I enquire if the manufacture is exact and the angle graduation measurements are as designed. Chap replies gruffly that he will stake his life on it. I believe him, but will check this when I return home.

  Chap says, ‘I see you have trouble with your arm, Doctor Constable. I understand the nature of your invention from your detailed notations, so allow me to demonstrate the use of the instrument.’

  He shows its use to good effect and handles it in a way that displays its robustness. It is apparent that he is proud of his achievement and I congratulate him warmly.

  ‘It is well-done, Master Chap, and I am pleased with your work. Of course, it must prove its effectiveness on board ship before full satisfaction can be claimed, but if it fails then blame must lie with my design and not your craftsmanship.’

  Chap beams with delight, pats his son on the shoulder and thanks me for my kind words. I do not mention, but he must know, that if it is successful in practice, more commissions for this design will surely come his way. Hicks hands over final payment and the instrument is wrapped in sacks for transporting back to West Cheap.

  *

  I have been back scarcely an hour when Rose comes breathless and excited to the library and tells of the arrival of a large party of visitors. It is Sir George and Captain Hawkins, accompanied by Helen, Rosamund and their escorts. I bid them welcome and ask Rose to fetch Mother and Mistress Hilliard. Sir George removes his cloak to reveal a striking crimson doublet decorated with a patterning of ochre around the collar and cuffs. Hawkins is dressed in sober brown and grey.

  Sir George removes a tall hat and says, ‘Doctor Constable – William – please forgive our hasty and unannounced call on your household. The Captain General and I wish to view your invention and could not contain our eagerness.’ He waves his hand at Helen. ‘You will see that my daughter insisted on joining us and I could not refuse her. I am told that Helen and Rosamund have business with your Mother and Mistress Hilliard.’ He spreads his hands in a gesture of mock apology.

  ‘You are all very welcome and the unexpected nature of your visit adds to my pleasure.’

  ‘Thank you, Wi
lliam. I see that your arm is injured. I trust it is a trivial matter and will not hinder your work?’

  ‘It was my own fault. I fell from my horse and have cracked a bone in my wrist. The pain has eased and I believe it mends well.’ I note that Helen has fixed me with a stare. I cannot read her expression, but I refrain from mentioning her role in my treatment in case Sir George is unaware of her last visit.

  Mothers enters the hall followed by Mistress Hilliard. Sir George bows deeply to Mother and they exchange words on the joys of renewing a family connection and sorrows for departed spouses. After much fussing and politeness, Mother leads the ladies to the parlour and I take the gentlemen into the receiving room. I call for Rose and ask her to assist Elspeth in preparing refreshment for both parties. When both my guests are seated, I beg to be excused so that I can fetch the instrument from my library.

  I carry the instrument in my good hand and both men rise from their seats as I enter. Hawkins’ eyes are bright with anticipation and I offer it to him.

  I say, ‘I regret that my injury prevents me from providing an exposition of its operation.’

  Hawkins mutters that it is no matter. He peers closely at the various parts, strokes the main spar with his forefinger and tests the movement of the eye slit along the arc. He refrains from comment and passes it to Sir George who mimics those actions before passing to back to Hawkins.

  Sir George says, ‘It is a handsome piece, William.’ He turns to Hawkins. ‘Will it do, John?’

  ‘Of course, it must be tested. I understand the concept, which is a fine one. The avoidance of direct sight into the glare of the sun is a major improvement. The geometry of the invention uses mathematics beyond my capabilities and I look forward to proving its merit through practice.’

  I explain in some detail how it should be used, although this is mainly for Morton’s benefit as it is plain from his handling that Hawkins already has some understanding.