Once the play was over I went straight home (I had moved back to my domestic comforts that afternoon) and awaited him. He was not long in coming and sat down with all the calm imperturbability that was his normal mode of conduct.
‘I understand your taste for power and influence has not been slaked, Dr Wallis,’ he said, ‘which does not surprise me in the slightest. I hear you have been questioning this young man, and have enough influence to have him pardoned if you so desire. You are attached to Mr Bennet now, I believe?’
I nodded.
‘What is your interest in Prestcott, and this Italian gentleman you ask him about?’ he asked.
Even the shadow of Thurloe’s authority still blinded more than full exposure to the powers of a man like Mr Bennet, and I say that it never occurred to me not to answer him, nor to point out that he had no right whatsoever to question me.
‘I am certain that there is a plot which might return this country to civil war.’
‘Of course there is,’ Thurloe said, in that calm way with which he greeted all matters, however serious. ‘When at any stage in the past few years has there not been? What is new about this one?’
‘What is new is that I believe it to be organised by the Spanish.’
‘And what is it to be this time? Massed attack by Fifth Monarchists? A sudden cannonade by rebellious guardsmen?’
‘One man. The Venetian gentleman who now passes as a philosopher. He has already killed twice, my servant and Dr Grove. And he stole letters from me which are of the greatest importance.’
‘This is the physician you asked Prestcott about?’
‘He is no physician. He is a soldier, a known killer, and is here to murder the Earl of Clarendon.’
Thurloe grunted. For the first time in my life, I saw him surprised.
‘You would be best to kill him first, then.’
‘Then his paymasters will try again, and swiftly. At least this time I know who he is. Next time I might not be so lucky. I must use this opportunity to uncover the English end of the conspiracy and stop it once and for all.’
Thurloe stood up, took the heavy poker from the hearth and rearranged the logs on the fire so that it sent a shower of sparks up the chimney. He did this for some time; it was always a habit of his to occupy himself with some trivial physical task while he thought.
Eventually he turned to me once more. ‘If I were you, I should kill him,’ he repeated. ‘If this man is dead, then the plot is at an end. It may be revived, but it may not. If he slips away from you, then you will have blood on your hands.’
‘And if I am wrong?’
‘Then an Italian traveller dies, ambushed on a road by highwaymen. A great tragedy, no doubt. But all except his family will forget it within weeks.’
‘I cannot believe you would take your own advice in these circumstances.’
‘You must. When I looked out for Oliver, I always moved immediately I heard of a plot against his person. Risings, conspiracies, all those minor matters, they could be left to run a little, because they could always be defeated. Assassination is different. One mistake and you are ruined for ever. Believe me, Dr Wallis: do not over-reach yourself with subtlety. You are dealing here with men, not geometry; they are less predictable, and more given to causing surprise.’
‘I would agree wholeheartedly with you,’ I said, ‘were it not for the fact that I have no man I could rely on to do this, and a botched attempt would only make him more cautious. And for suitable help I would have to inform Mr Bennet more thoroughly. I have told him a little, but very far from all.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Thurloe replied thoughtfully. ‘That ambitious and pompous gentleman. You consider him less than safe?’
I reluctantly nodded: I still did not know how Cola had found out so quickly about Matthew; it was certainly possible, through dreadful to contemplate, that Bennet himself might have passed on that information and might himself be involved in the plot against Clarendon.
Thurloe leaned back in his chair and considered, sitting so long and quietly that I was half afraid he had fallen asleep in the heat of the fire, that perhaps his mind was no longer what it was, and that he could no longer occupy himself with such matters.
But I was wrong; eventually he opened his eyes and nodded to himself. ‘I would doubt his involvement, if that is what concerns you,’ he said.
‘Is there something you know that makes you conclude this?’
‘No; I know less of the man than you do. I proceed from character, no more. Mr Bennet is an able man; very able indeed. Everyone knows it, and the king is more aware than most. For all his faults, this is not a prince who surrounds himself with fools; he is not like his father. Mr Bennet will dominate the government when Clarendon goes, as soon he must. He has power within his grasp; all he has to do is wait for the fruits of office to fall in profusion into his lap. Now is it likely that a man such as this would suddenly indulge himself in these grandly extravagant actions, which can in no way improve his prospects? Risk all on the throw of a dice when patience will soon bring all he wants? That is not his way, I think.’
‘I am glad you think so.’
‘But there must be a sponsor in England, this is certainly true. Do you know who this is?’
I shrugged helplessly. ‘It could be any one of many dozen people. Clarendon has enemies without end, for good reasons and bad. You know that as well as I do. He has been attacked in print and in person, in the House of Commons and in the House of Lords, through his family and his friends. It was only a matter of time, I think, before someone attacked his body. That moment may be soon.’
‘A rash man, it must be,’ Thurloe observed, ‘to act in such desperation, as however good a soldier your Venetian is, the chance of him missing and being captured must always be there. It may be, of course, that he is being held in reserve, that he will be called into action only if other attempts to ruin Lord Clarendon fail.’
‘Such as?’ I asked, feeling that once again Thurloe was teaching me as he had an entire generation of servants of the state. ‘How do you know all this, sir?’
‘I keep my ears open, and I listen,’ Thurloe replied with quiet amusement. ‘A course I recommend to you, Doctor.’
‘And you have heard of another plot?’
‘Maybe so. It seems that enemies of Clarendon are trying to weaken him by associating him with treason. In particular, the treason of John Mordaunt in betraying to me the rising of 1659. In this matter they seek to employ the good offices of Jack Prestcott, the son of the man who took the blame for that regrettable event.’
‘Mordaunt?’ I asked incredulously. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Oh, perfectly serious, thank you. Shortly before Cromwell died,’ he continued, ‘I myself attended a meeting alone with him where he mapped out his own death, which he knew could not be greatly delayed. He could barely walk, so much had his final illness gripped him, and so severe were the treatments meted out to him by his physicians. He knew as well as any he had but a little time remaining, and he regarded the prospect unflinchingly, wanting only to ensure that his affairs on earth were settled before the Lord took him.
‘He instructed me how to proceed, confident that his orders would be obeyed, even though he was no longer here to enforce them. His protectorate would pass temporarily to his son Richard, he said, and that would buy the time necessary to conclude negotiations with Charles about how best to effect a restoration of the monarchy. The king was to be allowed back only if he was shackled with so many chains limiting his deeds that he would never act as his father had.
‘Naturally, the whole affair was to be kept the closest guarded secret; no meeting was to be noted, no letters, and not a word should be spoken outside the small circle on both sides privy to the talks.
‘I did as I was told because he was right: only Cromwell kept civil war at bay, and when he went it would resume unless the breach in the nation was healed. And the English are a monarchical people, who love subjection m
ore than freedom. It was desperately difficult, as if the fanatics on either side knew of it, then we would all be cast aside. Even so, they came close to taking power again, and I was thrown out of office for a while. Even then, though, I kept the talks going, with John Mordaunt representing His Majesty. One of the conditions, of course, was that all plans and plots for risings should stop: and if the Royalists themselves could not stop them we were to be given enough information so we might do so. Accordingly, Mordaunt gave us full details of the 1659 rising, which was put down with considerable loss of life.
‘Many more would have died had war resumed properly, but that would not save Mordaunt if the details of this transaction were known. The trouble is that this young man Prestcott is trying to prove his father innocent, and must inevitably prove Mordaunt guilty if he is to succeed, for he has been told enough to know who was really responsible. Then it would be assumed that Clarendon gave the orders for this.’
‘Did he?’
Thurloe smiled. ‘No. The king gave them himself. But Clarendon would accept the blame to save His Majesty from criticism. He is a good servant, and better than this king deserves.’
‘Prestcott knows of all this?’
‘Not exactly. He is convinced that Mordaunt was a traitor, acting on his own behalf. I have encouraged him in his belief that Samuel Morland was in league with Mordaunt.’
‘This gets ever more bizarre,’ I commented. Why did you do that?’
‘For the obvious reason that otherwise he would have acted on his belief in my responsibility and slit my throat. You might, incidentally, do me the service of seeing Samuel next time you are in London and warning him that this young man has decided to kill him.’
‘And you say someone has been helping Prestcott?’
‘I believe so,’ Thurloe replied.
‘Who?’
‘He is too cunning to say unless the price is right.’
‘His testimony is worthless in any case,’ I said, furious that the little wretch dared bargain with me, and on such a matter.
‘In a court? Of course it is. But you understand politics better than that, Doctor.’
‘What does he want?’
‘Proof of his father’s innocence.’
‘I do not have it.’
Thurloe smiled.
I grunted. ‘I suppose there is no reason why I should not promise him anything he wants. Once I have his testimony, of course . . .’
Thurloe wagged his finger at me.
‘Indeed. But do not take him for a fool, sir. He has some wit, even though I doubt his sanity. He is not a trusting man and wants an indication of your good will first. You do something for him, he will reciprocate. He does not trust anyone.’
‘What does he want?’
‘He wants charges against him abandoned.’
‘I doubt I could accomplish that. My relations with the magistrate are not such that he will readily do me any favour.’
‘You do not need one. Mr Prestcott is willing to provide damning evidence that some woman called Blundy murdered this man Grove. I am not certain how he came by it, especially as you tell me this Italian was responsible. But we must use such opportunities as we are given. It should be possible to persuade the magistrate that a certain conviction in a murder case is better than a possible conviction in one of assault. Her trial means his freedom, and co-operation.’
I stared at him uncomprehending, before realising he was perfectly serious. ‘You want me to connive in judicial murder? I am not an assassin, Mr Thurloe.’
‘You do not need to be. All you have to do is talk to the magistrate, then keep your silence.’
‘You never did such a wicked thing,’ I said.
‘Believe me, I did. And gladly. It is the servant’s duty to take sin on to his own shoulder so that his prince may remain safe. Ask Lord Clarendon. It is to safeguard good order.’
‘That is, no doubt, how Pontius Pilate consoled himself.’
He inclined his head. ‘No doubt he did. But I think the circumstances are different. It is not, in any case, as if you do not have an alternative. This woman does not have to die. But you would not then find out who is sponsoring the Italian. Nor would you have that much chance of bringing him to trial. But I sense you want more than this.’
‘I want Cola dead and I want those who brought him here destroyed.’
Thurloe’s eyes narrowed as I said this, and I knew that the intensity of my reply, the hatred in my voice had let him see too much. ‘It is unwise’, he said, ‘in matters such as this, to be swayed by sentiment. Or by a desire for revenge. By grasping too much, you may lose everything.’
He stood up. ‘And now I must leave you. I have delivered my message and given my advice. I am sorry that you find it so hard, although I understand your reluctance. If I could persuade Mr Prestcott to be more reasonable, then I would certainly do so. But he has the pig-headedness of youth, and will not be swayed. You, if I may say so, have some of the same qualities.’
Chapter Eleven
* * *
I PRAYED FOR guidance that night, but no word of help or comfort came to me; I was entirely deserted and abandoned to my own indecision. I was not so blind as to forget that Thurloe undoubtedly had his own reasons for intervening, but I did not know what these might be. Certainly, he would not avoid deceiving me if he felt it necessary. He had few powers left, and I fully expected him to use those that remained.
At the very least, I felt I should keep open all possible courses, and the next day I spoke to the magistrate, who immediately placed Sarah Blundy under arrest. As she had already been questioned it was natural that she would be afraid and I did not wish anything to be rendered impossible by her precipitate flight. Had she run, she knew more than enough people to give her refuge, and I would have had little chance of ever finding her again.
By that stage Cola had gone on his medical tour with Lower. I was furious when I heard of this and immediately feared that his expedition might be the culminating point of his conspiracy, but Mr Boyle reassured me when he informed me in a letter from London that the Lord Chancellor did not intend to leave for his country estate for another few weeks. My nightmare of an imminent ambush on the London road, the coaches ravaged and all blamed on old soldiers turned highwaymen, ebbed away from me, as I realised that Cola must be merely filling in idle time as he waited. Perhaps, indeed, Thurloe was right, and Cola was in England only for employment if a more peaceable attempt to unseat Clarendon failed.
Moreover, I was glad of the breathing space the knowledge gave me, for I had momentous decisions to make and was about to embark on a course which would either bring me to ruin, or would pull down one of the great men in the land: this is not something anyone does with a light heart.
So in that peaceful week in which Cola travelled the countryside (I understand that his account is again accurate in some details, for Lower told me that he laboured with diligence among his patients) I considered all the possibilities which lay before me, went over all the evidence indicating my conclusions about the dangers this man Cola posed were correct. And I could see no fault in them, and defy anyone else to doubt them either: no innocent ever acted in such a guilty fashion. Apart from that, I renewed my assault on Sarah Blundy, for I thought that if I could persuade her to say what interest Cola had in her family, then I might spare myself from the humiliation of having to give in to the wishes of a half-crazed adolescent like Jack Prestcott.
She was brought to me in a small room normally occupied by the castle warden. Incarceration had done little for her appearance and, as I swiftly discovered, had in no way eroded her insolence.
‘I trust you have meditated on the matters we talked of before. I am in a position to help you, if you will only allow me to do so.’
‘I did not kill Dr Grove.’
‘I know that. But many people think you did, and you will die unless I help you.’
‘If you know I am innocent, then surely you must help me any
way? You are a man of God.’
‘Perhaps that is true. But you are a loyal subject of His Majesty, yet you refused to help me when I asked you for only the slightest assistance.’
‘I did not refuse. I knew nothing that you wanted to hear.’
‘For someone who may shortly be hanged you seem remarkably reluctant to avert that terrible fate.’
‘If it is God’s will that I should die, then I will do so willingly. If it is not, then I shall be spared.’
‘God expects us to labour on our own behalf. Listen, girl. What I ask is not so dreadful. You have become involved, no doubt innocently, in the most fiendish scheme imaginable. If you assist me you will not only go free, you will be rewarded well.’
‘What scheme?’
‘I certainly do not intend to tell you.’
She fell silent.
‘You said’, I prompted, ‘that your benefactor, Mr Cola, talked on occasion with your mother. What did they talk about? What did he ask? You said you would find out.’
‘She is too sick to be asked. All she has told me is that Mr Cola always showed her the greatest courtesy, and listened with great patience whenever she felt like talking. He said little himself.’
I shook my head in exasperation. ‘Listen, you stupid girl,’ I all but shouted at her, ‘this man is here to commit a horrendous crime. The first thing he did when he got here was contact you. If you are not helping him, what was the purpose of that?’
‘I do not know. All I know is that my mother is sick, and he has helped her. No one else offered, and without his generosity she would be dead. More than that I do not know, or care to know.’
She looked at me straight in the eyes as she continued. ‘You say he is a criminal. No doubt you have good reason for that. But I have never seen or heard him behave in any way except with the utmost civility, more perhaps, than I properly deserve. Criminal or papist, that is how I judge him.’
I state here that I wished to save her, if I could, if she would only allow me to do so. With all my heart I willed her to break, and say everything she knew. With good fortune she would make Prestcott’s testimony unnecessary, and I could then refuse his bargain. I pressed again and again, far longer than I would have done with anyone else, but she would not give way.