‘Scarcely a chance turn.’ Sir Francis looked on her with glee. ‘You bested me in America. You went all that way, solely to prevent me in my ends. And what happened, because of you? I was run through with a sword, and I was forced to use this cane. I swore to myself I would have my revenge. And now you have delivered it. Our game is finally over.’
‘You have been fortunate, that is all. I cannot be Virgo. Nobody will believe it.’
He almost laughed. ‘And yet you match her description precisely. Close to a member of the war council? Sir William is on the war council, as he was before we even left for America. Consorting with the Dutch? Who knows what happened when you were captured in New York, when the Dutch still held that place? What was the price for your release?’
She set her face. ‘When I was captured, I was locked in a room until their commander freed me. God’s truth, Uncle, how often shall I repeat it? I have not been in the country. I cannot be Virgo!’
He lifted his cane in the air and shook it. ‘It shall soon become clear you have played at being Virgo for a very long time. Before you went to America, indeed. No doubt you hoped to subvert our colonies, learning information to pass to the Dutch, to help them retake what they have lost. To encourage our own people to revolt, perhaps, as happened while you were staying in New England.’
‘This is ridiculous! Your mind is addled. You are twisting events to suit your false argument. I went to America to aid the King.’
‘You used the King. You continue to use him, and take pleasure in doing so. But the simple truth, Mercia, is that I do not need the King to believe this whole tale. You know how he prefers to ignore difficult problems. All I need do is create enough doubt in his mind, and he will leave things as they are, with me in the manor house, and you – out of sight.’
‘You seem to be forgetting the real spy remains at work. Even so, the facts—’
‘Support what I contend. You were there when Lady Allcot was murdered. What, did she find you out too, and so you hired two ruffians to shoot her down? But then you panicked, did you not, and contrived lies about Lavinia Whent, thinking to hide your tracks.’ He widened his eyes. ‘Such deception, Mercia! But really, do you want your poor son to have everything taken away? Not only the manor house, but any chance of redemption at all? For if you do not submit, that is what will happen. He will become an orphan in this heartless world, no one to love or care for him, and—’
‘You bastard,’ she hissed, and she strode towards him, but when she brought back her hand she instead held it steady, and the fear in his eyes at that moment was enough.
‘The real Virgo exists,’ she said. ‘When she is unmasked, your deception will prove itself false. And then it shall be you called a traitor, not me.’
‘I do not think so.’ He played with the fingers of his silken gloves. ‘I doubt the real Virgo will ever be found.’
There was something in his expression that made her frown. ‘What have you done?’
‘Only what you have brought on yourself.’ He rapped on the door. ‘Open up! I am finished here.’
‘Uncle, wait. What have you done?’
But his triumph had turned to silence. She had fallen into his trap, and there, in that room, there was nothing she could think of to do. And so he left, smiling, leaving her with her doubt.
More hours passed. She was brought more food and drink. She was not badly treated. But she was alone. She clung to the belief that her uncle was wrong. If only Sir William would come.
The sunlight began to fade before the heavy tread of boots echoed once again. The door creaked open, allowing an unknown man to enter. He had no weapon. No armour. No expression of any kind. As the door shut behind him, he pulled up a chair, indicating with a flick of his wrist that Mercia should do the same.
‘You are Virgo,’ the blank man said.
‘I assure you I am not.’
‘You are Virgo.’
‘Sir, I am not.’
‘You are Virgo.’
She stuck her tongue into her cheek. ‘Who are you?’
‘Who I am is unimportant. You are Virgo.’
‘It matters not how often you repeat yourself. It does not make it true.’
‘You are Virgo.’
‘If you hope to madden me into a confession, then—’
‘You want to confess?’
‘There is nothing to confess.’
‘You are Virgo.’
She made to push herself up. ‘I—’
‘You will sit when I tell you!’
She paused. ‘As you wish.’
‘You are a traitor.’
‘Ah. Something new?’
‘You are a traitor to the King.’
‘I have aided the King.’
‘Your past is irrelevant. Your present is what concerns me. You are a traitor.’
‘I am loyal to the King.’
‘Your father was a traitor.’
‘My father was falsely accused.’
‘He supported Cromwell.’
‘That does not make him a traitor.’
‘He was a traitor. He supported Cromwell.’
‘He lived by his beliefs. He did not resent the return of the King.’
‘He was executed on Tower Hill.’
‘He was falsely accused. The King knows this.’
‘Do not presume to speak for the King.’
‘I merely say—’
‘You are a traitor.’
A bead of sweat trickled behind her ear. ‘Whatever I say will clearly mean nothing. If you wish me to confess, you will be—’
‘You want to confess?’
‘There is nothing to confess.’
‘You are Virgo.’
‘I will not be worn down by these constant repetitions.’
‘There are other means.’
‘So now you wish to frighten my confession?’
‘You want to confess?’
‘God’s truth!’
‘God is the truth.’
‘You know what I mean to say.’
‘I know you are Virgo.’
She took a deep breath, in and out, striving to calm herself. In truth the man was rattling her, as he must have intended.
‘I am not Virgo,’ she said. ‘My Lady Castlemaine employed me to seek her out. Are you saying she is so deluded she cannot see what is truth and what is false?’
‘Truth can be false.’
‘What? Truth is truth. ’Tis falsehood that can be made out as truth.’
‘You are a traitor. Your pretty statements do not count.’
‘I am a subject of the King of England. What I think does count.’
‘Can you count? One, two, three …?’
‘What is this? Of course I can count!’
‘Then count for me the number of people who have died around you this past year.’
The sweat was now falling down her back. ‘Why ask such a thing?’
‘I said count!’
‘I will not.’
‘One – your father. Two – Lady Calde. Three—’
‘Stop this! None of that is my doing!’
‘What did you do in America?’
Her throat had gone dry; she stood to reach for a glass of water.
‘Sit down!’ The man rose to his feet. ‘I said sit.’
‘I will do what I—’
He pulled back his hand and struck her.
‘Sit!’
Hand to her face, she stared in shock.
‘When Sir William hears of—’
‘What did you do in America?’
‘I was sent on a matter of import!’ She retook her seat. ‘A mission for the King.’
‘With whom did you speak there?’
‘I do not know. Many … many people.’
‘Dutch people?’
‘Of course! They controlled the town before it became New York.’
‘So you do wish to confess?’
‘What?’
&n
bsp; ‘You admit to speaking with the Dutch. What did you tell them?’
‘I told them nothing.’
‘All speech imparts something.’
‘This speech does not.’
‘What did you tell the Dutch?’
‘I told them nothing.’
‘Liar. You are Virgo. What did you tell the Dutch?’
‘Sir, this is futile! I have never passed secrets. Never, let alone to the Dutch.’
‘You have never held secrets?’
‘Not in this regard.’
‘But you have kept matters hidden?’
‘Everyone has secrets!’
‘Not everyone is Virgo.’
She punched the armrest. ‘I am not Virgo. I will not capitulate to this torment!’
‘Torment is dying in war because a traitor has peddled secrets.’
‘I demand to see Sir William Calde!’
‘You killed his wife.’
‘He knows what happened to his wife.’
‘That you killed her?’
‘No! My man tried to save her.’
‘You made him kill her, so you could become Sir William’s wife.’
‘Then why have I not married him?’
‘Because you are Virgo.’
‘Damn you.’ She looked away. ‘I will answer no more questions.’
‘Because you are guilty?’
‘I am not guilty.’
‘That was an answer to a question. You lie even to yourself.’
‘This is absurd!’
‘Confess and it stops.’ The man leant forward, some of the intensity dropping from his face. ‘I can sit here for hours, asking questions from whatever you say, never stopping, never ending, while your lips grow parched, your bladder grows weak, and your mind grows inflamed. Confess and it stops.’ And then he leant back, the visor of impassiveness closed once more.
‘You are not listening,’ she implored. ‘I am not Virgo. I am not going to confess to something I have not done. I am Mercia Blakewood, and that is all. Nothing else.’
‘You are a traitor.’
‘I am Mercia Blakewood.’
‘You are Virgo.’
‘I am Mercia Blakewood!’
‘You are Virgo.’
‘I know who I am!’
‘I know who you are. You are a traitor.’
The back of her eyes began to burn. ‘Please stop this.’
‘I am a servant of the King. You wish me to stop in my duties?’
‘I wish you to stop this.’
‘The King is my master. Only a traitor would want me to disobey his will.’
‘I am no traitor!’
‘You are a traitor.’
‘I am Mercia Blakewood!’
‘No. You are Virgo.’
The interrogation lasted two hours. Her tormentor’s repetitions clawed at her soul, his monotone drilling into her mind until a madness set in. And yet she managed to withstand it. She had to withstand it.
She was not Virgo.
She was Mercia Blakewood, and she was going to survive this. As she had survived all else before.
At last the man stood, no warning. Without a word he turned and strode to the door, banging twice, waiting on the guard as Mercia slumped in her chair, head in her hands, the monotone ringing inside. She was shaking, her stays were drenched in sweat, and her throat was utterly dry. Her jaw was trembling, but she forced up her eyes to the open door, feeling a chink of hope that her ordeal could be ended … and then the man came back in, and the monotone resumed once more.
Another hour. The man stood, banged on the door and walked through. This time he shut the door behind him, and Mercia slowly turned her head, scarcely believing what she had been made to endure, and she reached for the glass with trembling hand, spilling several drops on the hazy floor before she managed to take a sip, and then another, and then she drank with abandon, dribbling water down her cheeks, and then she put back the glass, and she reached for the pisspot – and the door reopened, and the man came in.
‘Use it, if you must,’ he said.
He watched, scarcely blinking, as she removed her dress and stays to relieve herself in front of him. And then he ordered her to sit back down.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Another hour dragged by until the blank man finally left. This time he did not return, but his work had been thorough, and at every slight noise, every creak, every knock, her heart began to pound, and she panicked he was about to reappear. But he never did, not while the night wore on, not while the moon passed over London and the people slept, not while Mercia lay awake, terrified and alone. And all the night, the monotone crowded her mind, the madness, and she found no peace, but two things she knew.
She knew she was not Virgo. She knew she was strong.
In the morning she prayed to God. Petrified the man would return with the daylight, she laid her left hand on the Bible, her right hand on the bed, and she begged God’s forgiveness for the transgressions of her life. For the man had swayed her to insecurity, so that even though Virgo was not in this room, the troubles of her past became mighty in her thoughts. When the door did open, her chest began to heave, her breaths shallow and fast, but it was merely a guard with a tray of provisions. He left the food and drink with a pitying smile, and she took it as a sign that not all the world was bad.
At last, her prayers were rewarded. Mid afternoon, the door swung open, and Sir William walked in.
‘My God, Mercia. What has happened to you?’
It took her a moment to realise she was cowering. ‘I have been visited by a monster,’ she said, and she got to her feet, brushing at her hair and her cheeks, oblivious to how she must look.
‘By the Lord,’ he said. ‘What in heaven’s name have you done?’
She felt her jaw tremble. ‘Nothing. I have done nothing. Do not tell me you believe these lies?’
‘I cannot believe them. I know you are true.’
‘How is my son? Is he well?’
‘Daniel knows nothing of this. The King does not wish him harm.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Have they mistreated you?’
‘Not in my body. But in my mind …’ She put her hand to her ear. ‘I hear his voice, even now. Yours seems … loud.’
‘I am talking normally, Mercia.’ He came to rest his hands on her shoulders. ‘Look at me. I am your friend. I will help you set this right.’
‘But my uncle said … he implied you were in trouble.’
‘Sir Francis underrates my position. But he is persistent. The King knows not what to think.’
‘The King’s doubt is what he seeks.’ Sir William’s presence was helping her restore her wits. ‘For my uncle to succeed, all that must happen is the King do nothing. Should I become an embarrassment, then better to leave matters as they stand, regardless of what I have achieved. And so I must provide him with the indisputable truth. That I am no perfidious spy.’
He sighed. ‘The truth is, if you are Virgo – which I know you are not – then you are getting your information from me. The King may know I am not treasonous, but he may think I am careless. Look at Sir Peter Shaw, still held not far from here.’
‘Then help yourself, as well as me.’
‘Mercia, I will help you solely for you. Now look me in the eye. Swear you have nothing to do with this treachery.’
She held his gaze. ‘I swear it.’
His pupils moved left to right, up and down, back and forth, studying the blueness of her eyes. ‘Then hold on here as much as you can,’ he said at last. ‘With luck, I will speak again today with the King. It will help that his brother the Duke has already left Court to lead the fleet.’
Despite her own plight, Nicholas came to mind. ‘Battle is imminent?’
He nodded. ‘If I am successful … you will need to be brave. I have a plan, but … the King is insistent that he and his council follow the Duke, and that includes me with them. You will have to be alone for a while. Everything depends on
your unmasking Virgo.’
Guarded relief swept through her. ‘I have to find her. I cannot stand another day of torment.’
‘I hope you will not need to. For now, take heart.’
He reached down, and he kissed her forehead: a light, tender press of his lips. Then he withdrew his hands from her shoulders and went from the cell.
Aside from a second delivery of food, she was left alone after that. The guard who brought the tray even greeted her, and she wondered if Sir William’s influence was already at work. When the sun again set, she lit three candles, positioning them around the room so as to give constant light. She thought to try sleeping, but her mind was too active, and although her ordeal had drained her, she did not know if sleep could come.
A scraping noise sounded on the other side of the room, and the key turned in the lock. Suddenly afraid, she looked on the door with trepidation, but it did not swing open. And yet someone knocked, before the sound of their footsteps vanished down the stairs.
She waited, but nothing further happened. Uncertain, she picked up the nearest candle and crept towards the door. She set her hand on the sawn-down knob that would have served as a handle, and pulled.
The door swung open.
With great deliberation, she held her candle outside the door, illuminating the middle of the stairwell: she was on the first floor of the Bell Tower, but aside from a host of unsettling shadows there was nothing to be seen. She eased back her head, wondering what could be amiss, and retreated into her room, afraid of a trap were she found out of her cell.
And yet … the door had been opened. Someone had knocked.
But no, she told herself. Even if she merely went down the stairs, surely a guard would be stationed at the bottom, and a score more between there and the entrance to the fortress. But still the door was open. There were no guards here. Could she not just – take a look?
She abandoned her candle; no sense in being spotted as a moving pinprick of light. Feeling an intense rush of boldness she dared to leave the room, pushing the door shut and, taking great care to be silent, she began to descend.
She reached the bottom. To her surprise, there was no guard. She put her head into the open air, and true, two guards were talking to her left, but they were some way off. To her right, the way towards freedom, all was clear.
Traitor Page 24
