The King's Return: (Thomas Hill 3) (Thomas Hill Novels)

by Andrew Swanston

  ‘Good. Now let us consider the position. I assume that none of my colleagues is now available to assist me, so you are two and I am one. But I have Miss Stewart – a queen to your knights, one might say. How do you suggest we proceed?’ The voice barely rose above a whisper.

  ‘I suggest you release Madeleine and then we discuss your future.’

  ‘Very amusing. My suggestion, however, is a little different. You will stand up and walk backwards into the other room. Miss Stewart and I will follow you. You will then return to this room.’

  ‘Where you will lock us in and depart with Madeleine?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  Thomas looked at Charles and saw the faintest twinkle in his eye. A little acting was needed. ‘How do we know she’ll be safe?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘You don’t. What you do know is that she will not be safe if you do not do as I say.’

  ‘In that case, Thomas,’ said Charles, ‘we’d best do as we’re told.’

  He got to his feet, opened the door and walked backwards into the other room. Thomas let him pass and followed him. A few steps behind, Madeleine emerged, the quiet voice behind her with his knife still at her throat. There was blood on her neck and she was ashen. As she walked through the doorway, a slight movement to her right made her turn her head. Quiet Voice saw it and immediately tried to drag her back into the room. He was too late. Josiah’s stick came down on his shoulder with a crack like a musket shot and the knife fell from his hand. Madeleine fell forward and he subsided on to the floor, clutching his shoulder. Josiah stood over Quiet Voice and put his foot on the man’s neck. Thomas helped Madeleine to her feet and sat her gently on a chair. She was sobbing.

  ‘Shall I put ’im out of ’is misery, sir?’ Josiah sounded keen on the idea.

  ‘Not yet, Josiah. We need a little talk with the creature first.’

  ‘As you wish, sir.’ Josiah hauled the man to his feet and dumped him on a chair. When he pushed him down, the man gasped in agony.

  ‘There. Comfortable? Now answer Mr ’Ill’s questions like a good boy, or you’ll ’ave a pair of broken shoulders.’ Josiah stood behind him while Thomas and Charles faced him. The disfigured face was contorted with pain.

  ‘We have information that the man who recently committed several murders in London was disfigured. Was it you?’ Quiet Voice said nothing. ‘Very well.’ Thomas nodded to Josiah, who tapped the man on the shoulder with his stick. He screamed. ‘Was it you?’ Louder this time. The man nodded. ‘That’s better. And who told you to carry out the murders?’

  He shook his head. Another tap on the shoulder, another scream and the words came out in a rush. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘That is difficult to believe. Someone gave the orders. Who?’

  ‘I tell you I don’t know. The orders came in writing.’ The words were barely audible. Quiet Voice was sinking.

  ‘To where?’

  ‘An inn in Bishopsgate.’ An inn used for passing messages – Joseph had said there were many – although Quiet Voice might be lying.

  ‘What inn?’

  ‘The Fox.’

  ‘Were you paid?’ He nodded. ‘How?’

  ‘Dutch bank.’

  ‘Gold?’ Another nod.

  ‘You’re a traitor. Why?’

  Quiet Voice pointed to his face. ‘Naseby. Bluecoats. Fools should have run like the rest of them.’

  ‘Are you English?’

  ‘Half. The better half Dutch.’

  ‘Last chance. Who gave the orders to murder those men and hold Madeleine Stewart to ransom?’ Quiet Voice glared at him. ‘Do the names Aurum and Argentum mean anything to you?’ Was there was a flicker in his eyes? ‘Do they?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re lying. You are a traitor and a murderer, and someone is giving you orders. Who are they?’ Quiet Voice said nothing. ‘You have a word with him, Josiah. We’ll be outside.’

  His arm around Madeleine, Thomas left the cottage and walked a few yards away, where he laid her gently on the ground. Charles followed them. ‘Are you hurt, my dear?’ he asked, his hand on her cheek. It was burning hot.

  ‘I’m unhurt but I have a fever. It frightened the guards. They thought it might be plague and did not dare to touch me. And that’s why they moved me – in case the other cottage was a plague house.’ There was a ghastly scream from the cottage, followed by another.

  Thomas sat beside Madeleine with her head on his lap and stroked her forehead. Her breathing was very shallow. Charles bent to speak to her. ‘It’s over, my dear. No need to be frightened now.’ There was another yell from the cottage. Charles and Thomas looked up sharply. The voice was different. It was not the Dutchman’s, it was Josiah’s. Charles leapt up and rushed inside. Almost immediately Josiah emerged, bent double and clasping his side.

  ‘Bugger’s out the back,’ he croaked. ‘Mr Carrington’s after ’im.’

  ‘Sit down, Josiah. Charles will catch him.’ Still bent over, Josiah sat down painfully. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’

  ‘Bloody fool, I am. ’E was play-acting. Not as ’urt as I thought. Grabbed my stick and ’it me in the back. Didn’t wait to finish me off. Just ran for it. My own fault. Bloody fool.’

  ‘Calm down and breathe deeply, Josiah. The man is injured and he won’t get away.’

  ‘’Ope not, sir. Dangerous one, that.’ Josiah coughed and yelped in pain. He arched his back and spat out a mouthful of bloody spittle. ‘Kidney. ’Urts like the devil, but I’ll live.’

  ‘That’s a relief, Josiah. There’s enough dead bodies in the cottage.’ Josiah’s laugh was cut short by another stab of pain. ‘Apologies, Josiah. This is no time for jokes. Lie down beside Miss Stewart and we’ll wait for Charles to bring the Dutchman back.’

  By the time Charles returned, Josiah was recovering but Madeleine was barely conscious. Charles was breathing heavily and he was alone. ‘Swine got away, I fear. Had to stop to get rid of my sword belt. Would have caught him a few years ago.’ The words came out in bursts between lungfuls of air. ‘Lost him in the reeds. Thought I’d better leave him and get back here. How is she?’

  ‘Weak and feverish. We need to get her away from here,’ replied Thomas, ‘and Josiah’s hurt too.’

  ‘It’s nothing, sir,’ said Josiah, standing up and squaring his shoulders. ‘Nothing a bit of a walk won’t mend.’

  ‘I’ll carry her,’ said Charles, handing his swords to Thomas. He picked Madeleine up very gently, his arms under her knees and shoulders, and set off. Walking steadily, they were back in Dartford within twenty minutes. ‘I think it might be prudent to avoid the inn,’ advised Charles. ‘That ferret of a landlord is not to be trusted.’

  ‘You’re right,’ agreed Thomas. ‘But we need the horses and we need something for Madeleine. She can’t ride or walk to London.’

  ‘Leave it to me, sir,’ said Josiah. ‘If Mr Carrington would accompany me, I expect we’ll find something useful. You wait by the church.’

  Charles handed Madeleine to Thomas. She opened her eyes and smiled weakly. ‘Can you walk?’ he asked. She nodded. He put her down and helped her to the church, where they sat on an old bench by the gate. He felt her face. ‘You’re very hot. Do you want water?’

  She shook her head. ‘Stay here with me, please, Thomas. The water can wait.’ She rested her head on his shoulder. It was not long before Josiah and Charles appeared. Charles was leading their horses, saddled and ready to go, and Josiah was perched on a flat cart drawn by an ancient pony. He looked unhappy.

  ‘Never did like ’orses,’ he grumbled, ‘and this one’s as old as I am. Still, ’e’ll ’ave to do. Put Miss Stewart on the cart, sir, and we’ll be off.’

  They used their coats to make Madeleine as comfortable as they could on the cart and set off on the direct road to Greenwich, riding slowly and stopping often for her sake. The route was criss-crossed with streams and brooks, and whenever they stopped Thomas found clear water to cool Madeleine’s fever. But each ti
me he felt her forehead it was hotter and by the time they reached the edge of the town, she was barely conscious. Her skin could have been made of paper and her eyes were red and rheumy. Despite the coats, she was shivering. She coughed painfully. Apart from the fever, Thomas could find no evidence of plague – no lumps, no infected sores – but if it was plague, she would not survive the night. The disease killed within days, if not hours. And even if it was not plague, Madeleine was still very sick – burning, shivering, vomiting, unable to speak. Josiah, too, was in pain. Holding the reins in one hand, he held the other to his back and stifled a groan every time the cart hit a hole in the road. Several times he spat out blood and wiped his mouth with his sleeve.

  They left the horses and the pony and cart at a stable in Greenwich and hired a carriage to take them to Piccadilly. The carriage driver, alarmed at the sight of an ailing woman, had to be persuaded with an enormous bribe. All the way there – from Greenwich to Southwark, over the bridge and westwards down the Strand and Fleet Street, Thomas sat with his arm around Madeleine, from time to time wiping her face with his handkerchief. Charles and Josiah sat opposite. Not a word was spoken until they arrived in Piccadilly.

  When the carriage pulled up outside the Carringtons’ house, Charles jumped out and reached in to take Madeleine in his arms. He carried her to the door, which was opened by Mary, and, at her instruction, up the stairs to a bedroom. Thomas and Josiah followed behind and went into the sitting room. Charles soon returned. ‘Does Mary think it’s plague?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘No. If it were, she’d be dead by now. It’s probably one of the agues that infest the foul air of the marshes. There will be many there, as there are in Barbados.’

  ‘How does she look?’

  ‘A little stronger, I’d say.’ It was a lie.

  ‘Thank you, Josiah, for what you’ve done,’ said Thomas, extending his hand. ‘We could not have managed without you. Are you recovered?’

  Josiah tried to smile. ‘Good as new, sir. I’ll go to Chancery Lane now. Mr Williamson must be told about Miss Stewart.’

  ‘Of course. Tell him she’s in good hands.’

  Josiah nodded and left, still clutching his side.

  Mary soon appeared. ‘She’s very sick,’ she told them. ‘Feverish and shivering. I’ll stay with her tonight. Pray that the fever breaks. Now tell me what happened.’

  Between them, they recounted the story of their journey to Dartford, the search for Madeleine and her rescue. Thomas told her about the disfigured murderer. ‘He told us nothing about a spy ring or a plot. We still don’t know who Aurum and Argentum are. Has Joseph called?’

  ‘A messenger came yesterday, asking you to call at his house. I sent a reply that you were unavailable but would call when you could.’

  ‘He won’t have liked that.’

  ‘He will like the real story even less. You’ll have to explain why you didn’t tell him about the message and why you sneaked off to Dartford, putting Madeleine’s life at risk.’

  ‘We’ll do it together,’ Charles assured Thomas. ‘Strength in numbers, don’t you think?’

  ‘Quite so. Thank God Madeleine is alive. And we’ll need to speak for Josiah.’

  ‘What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Now I’m going to look in on Madeleine and then I’m going to my bed.’

  ‘No, I meant are you going to stay in London or go home?’

  ‘I shall stay until Madeleine is recovered. Then I shall make a decision. As long as you’re willing to have me, that is.’

  ‘Stay as long as you want, Thomas,’ said Mary. ‘Madeleine will need you.’

  When Thomas looked in on Madeleine, she was asleep. She was very hot, but breathing easily. It was impossible to say which way the fever would go. Mary would alert him if there was any change. He left quietly and went to his own room.

  CHAPTER 19

  THE NEXT MORNING, the fever was worse. Madeleine’s forehead was on fire, her breathing had deteriorated and, worst of all, an abscess had appeared on her neck. Having sat with her all night, Mary was exhausted. When Thomas went in, her anger had returned.

  ‘Thomas, how could you have been so stupid as to get involved in all that business? I knew it would lead to trouble. Look at poor Madeleine. She’s dying. Dying, Thomas, and all because you couldn’t leave well alone.’ She was crying.

  Thomas waited for her to compose herself before speaking. ‘If I could undo what has been done, I would. I wouldn’t have gone to the Post Office, I wouldn’t have decrypted the letter and I wouldn’t have done Joseph’s bidding. I’d have gone home. As I shall the moment Madeleine is better.’

  ‘Thomas, did you not hear what I said? She’s dying. The fever is worse and she has an abscess on her neck.’

  ‘You and I will nurse her, and she will recover.’

  Madeleine opened her eyes and groaned. Thomas took her hand while Mary wiped her face. She was trying to say something. Thomas bent over her.

  ‘I am not dying.’ It was the faintest whisper. She had heard everything. He squeezed her hand gently.

  ‘Of course you aren’t. Now sleep. One of us will be here all the time.’ He turned to Mary. ‘I’ll stay with her. You go and rest.’ He pulled up a chair and sat beside the bed. If anyone could survive this, Madeleine Stewart could.

  He was still sitting by the bed an hour later when there was an urgent knocking on the front door and the sound of voices raised in anger. He heard footsteps on the stairs and Charles burst in.

  ‘Joseph’s here, in a fury and demanding to see Madeleine. You’d better come down. I’ll wake Mary.’

  Joseph was indeed in a fury. He shook his fist at them. ‘I must see her at once. Damned foolish thing to do, taking the matter into your own hands. God knows what might have happened to Madeleine. Damned foolish.’

  Charles spoke quietly. ‘Sit down, Joseph, and take a glass of wine. Shouting and cursing won’t help. We’ll take you up to Madeleine when you’re calm.’

  Williamson ignored him. ‘I’d have come last night, but I was with the king. Mottershead only found me this morning. I’ve a good mind to send the wretch packing. He had no business acting without my authority.’

  ‘No blame attaches to Mottershead,’ said Thomas. ‘We persuaded him to join us, although he knew he would be in trouble for doing so. He meant well and we would not have succeeded in rescuing Madeleine without him. Mottershead’s a good man, Joseph.’

  Williamson turned his disobedient eye on Thomas and squinted at him. ‘I daresay he is. But I am under extreme pressure from the king and it’s my head that’ll come off if I fail to find the ringleaders of this plot. I should have been informed of your intentions and that’s an end to it.’ He took a sip of claret and looked at the glass in surprise. Charles had produced his very best bottle.

  ‘Anything more on the source of the ransom demand?’ asked Thomas.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Well, at least it won’t be needed now,’ said Charles cheer fully. Williamson scowled at him. ‘Has Mottershead told you everything, Joseph, or shall we offer our report?’

  ‘I don’t know if he’s told me everything because I don’t know what everything is. I’d better hear it from you after I’ve seen Madeleine.’ An exhausted Mary entered the room. ‘Would you take me to her now, Mary?’

  They were down again within a few minutes. ‘She looks dreadful,’ said Joseph. ‘If there’s no improvement by tonight, I shall have to summon a physician, even though I have little time for them. Now tell me what happened and why you did not inform me of your intentions.’

  Joseph sat in silence while they told him about Dartford and the marshes and about the cottages and the guards. He spoke only when Thomas described the man with half a nose and a lip sliced almost in half, who spoke in whispers and had escaped. ‘This man, is he English?’

  ‘He told us that he was half Dutch and had been wounded at Naseby.’

  ‘Could he have been mistaken for a foreigner?’r />
  ‘Yes. His voice was unusually harsh. He did not tell us from whom he took orders, only that they came in writing and were left at the Fox in Bishopsgate.’

  ‘Almost certainly a lie, but I’ll have it checked. He’s a formidable enemy if he got the better of Mottershead. Anything else?’

  ‘Madeleine may be able to tell us more when she is stronger,’ replied Thomas.

  ‘Then we must pray that she recovers quickly. For her sake and our own. In the meantime I shall send Mottershead back to Dartford, wounded or not. He will dispose of the bodies and search the house. Not that I expect him to find anything. I shall return later.’

  When Joseph had left, Thomas went back up to Madeleine. For an hour he watched her sleeping, then returned to his room and took out the Dramatis Personae. It was time for a new cast.

  After rewriting it, he had:

  Plato: ‘Life must be lived as a play.’

  The Post Office, the Murders and the Plot

  Dramatis Personae

  Joseph Williamson: the king’s spymaster

  Henry Bishop: suspicious spaniel and Postmaster General

  Sir Samuel Morland: taciturn inventor, linguist and cryptographer

  Lemuel Squire: spherical letter-opener and oenophile

  Josiah Mottershead: Williamson’s man

  Matthew Smith: murdered intelligencer

  John Winter: murdered intelligencer

  Henry Copestick: murdered Post Office man

  Disfigured Dutchman: murderer

  Aurum and Argentum: Morland, Bishop, Squire, others?

  Alchemist: Dutch?

  Madeleine Stewart: brave and beautiful cousin of Williamson. Very sick

  Sir Montford Babb: murdered investor in AV. Connection unknown

  Chandle Stoner: businessman and friend of the Carringtons. Unconnected

  Thomas Hill: devoted admirer of Miss Stewart. Soon to exit the stage

  That evening, after Charles had gone out to meet Stoner, Williamson called again. Thomas led him up the stairs to Madeleine’s room. Mary was sitting by the bed. She stood when they entered and kissed Joseph on the cheek. ‘Joseph, she is still very sick.’