Marbeck and the King-in-Waiting (7 page)

In the gathering gloom he made his plans. There was no sense going to London; Master Secretary had shunned him, and in any case would be so occupied that Marbeck would be the least of his concerns. Whereas at Huntingdon, in the days to come, he might get news from messengers riding up and down the highway. Perhaps it would be best to head then for Scotland, as Gifford had advised. But he still wanted to find Gow and his followers, and speak once more with Henry. Having settled on his course, he rode back to Cambridge.

At supper he and Poyns ate in silence. They sat in the crowded parlour of the Roebuck, among loud-talking townsfolk. On all sides there was only one topic for gossip: the death of the Queen, and the coming of a new king. Having finished their meal, the two intelligencers spoke low.

‘I've heard further news,' Poyns began. ‘All eyes look north, as we'd expect. They say James will confirm members of the Privy Council in their present posts – in other words, just now Cecil reigns as if he were in the monarch's place.'

‘Hasn't he always done?' Marbeck observed wryly.

‘In recent years, perhaps,' Poyns allowed. ‘But in James Stuart, he'll find someone less amenable than Elizabeth. They say he means to bring a great party of Scots south with him. He's laid his plans well, in expectation of succession – almost as if he were certain of it.'

‘It was always believed he and Cecil were corresponding in secret,' Marbeck said. ‘Indeed, our master's too shrewd not to have smoothed the way. He looks to his own future as much as to England's.'

‘Then perhaps we should do the same,' Poyns murmured.

‘Which means?'

‘That, having mulled it over, I may not go to London after all. I think it wise to get to James before Master Secretary does. Cecil's a poor horseman … he'd hate the thought of a long ride. Whereas you and I have a head start.'

Marbeck eyed him. ‘I'd thought of going to Huntingdon,' he said. ‘It straddles the north road … and I think Gow's gone in that direction.'

‘Why? To await the new King, and preach at him?' Poyns put on a sardonic look. ‘Yet on reflection, going there might be a better course. Indeed, if you decide to continue as a musician, perhaps I'll join you.'

‘You?' Marbeck raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn't know you played an instrument.'

‘I don't,' Poyns replied. ‘But I have a fair singing voice – will that serve?'

So it was decided quickly. The following morning the two intelligencers left Cambridge, taking the road north-west and crossing the county border into Huntingdonshire. The distance to Huntingdon was a little over fifteen miles, and though the way was still muddy their journey was done by midday. With the church bells clanging, they rode through Godmanchester and crossed the Great Ouse by the stone bridge, entering the county town whose streets were as busy as those of Cambridge. Both men had passed through Huntingdon before, and soon got their bearings. While Poyns went to hire a room at the George Inn, Marbeck chose to look round. Taking leave of his fellow he rode upriver a short distance, at last finding himself at the great house of Hinchingbrooke, where he halted.

He could not help but admire it. Hinchingbrooke, a country mansion, looked even grander than when he had last seen it. It belonged to the wealthy Cromwell family; Queen Elizabeth had stayed here on one of her progresses, the guest of Sir Henry Cromwell. He gazed at the house, with its fine stonework and tall windows, standing in its own park. It struck him that here was a likely place for King James to stay on his eventual procession south. Indeed, all along the North Road and close to it, he guessed prominent noblemen would be readying their homes in hopes of a royal visit. Offering hospitality to the monarch and his train, though a costly business, could lead to preferment, even titles; and by all accounts the Scottish King was generous with gifts that cost him nothing to bestow. Musing on that, Marbeck turned Cobb about and made his way back to the town. Having seen the horse stabled, he entered the George and discovered Poyns in the taproom nursing a mug.

‘The chamber's adequate,' he said as Marbeck approached. ‘We're lucky to get it – the place is almost full. Sit – I have further news.'

With a glance round at the drinkers, Marbeck found a stool. But as he sat down, he remembered. ‘I forgot to pen a letter to Lady Scroop. I must do it today—'

‘I wouldn't, just yet,' Poyns interrupted. ‘This news I spoke of concerns our friend Gow.' When Marbeck looked sharply at him, he added: ‘There's a lad works here, who's a ready informant. He's heard talk, he says, that Isaac Gow will preach in secret to any who will hear him, this very night. The location is a wood outside the town.'

‘He got here quickly,' Marbeck observed, in some surprise.

‘So it would appear. My young friend doesn't know where Gow and his followers lodge – they're not in any of the inns, needless to say. But he's preached here before, it seems, and it will likely be at the same spot. Hence …'

‘Hence, I'll have a chance to speak with Henry again,' Marbeck finished.

‘I thought it would content you,' Poyns said. ‘Though I won't accompany you to hear Gow prate – he makes my hackles rise.' He tipped his mug, peering into it. ‘Ah, I seem to be empty …'

With a sigh, Marbeck looked round for the drawer.

But that evening, having been about the town through the afternoon, he returned to their hired chamber disappointed, to find Poyns sprawled on one of the beds.

‘Gow's nowhere to be found,' he said, sinking on to the other bed. ‘Your informant may not be so reliable after all. Nobody I spoke to knew of any meeting in a wood.' He sighed. ‘Tomorrow I'll venture further afield, find out what I can …'

But his only reply was a grunt; Poyns was asleep.

Saturday, the last one of March, dawned grey once again. Marbeck rose early leaving his friend abed, and after a breakfast of bread and porridge ventured out to the stables. Having saddled Cobb he rode from the town, across the bridge into Godmanchester. Then on an impulse, he decided to continue south towards St Neots.

Two days ago Robert Carey had raced northwards along this highway, carrying news of the Queen's death. With luck the man might reach Edinburgh in another day, and take word to James Stuart at the palace of Holyrood. Thinking over the events, Marbeck couldn't avoid a sense of foreboding. If there were indeed people who sought to forestall the accession of the King of Scots, now was their hour. He was pondering the matter as he approached the tiny hamlet of Offord, perhaps four miles from Huntingdon. There was a horse-trough by the roadside, so he dismounted to let Cobb drink … then he glanced across the broad river, and gave a start.

In a meadow beside a copse, a dozen mules stood in a huddle.

Instinctively Marbeck turned his back and moved behind the horse. Beyond the small herd he had glimpsed a tent, and figures moving. He seemed to have stumbled upon Gow's party, but for the moment he was unsure what to do. The notion of confronting Henry Scroop here and now seemed unwise – but he could at least keep the group under surveillance. Raising his head above Cobb's saddle, he gazed across the river again. There was no mistake: they were the same men he had seen at Gogmagog. He saw no sign of Henry, but had no doubt he was there. So, the horse having drunk his fill, he took up the reins, mounted quickly and rode back to Huntingdon.

A long day of waiting followed, and by the time evening drew in he was tense. During the day Poyns too had ventured out to gather news. Being unknown to Gow and his company, he had even ridden down to Offord and, finding them encamped where Marbeck had told him, made bold to observe them. From local villagers he had learned that Gow would preach this night near Godmanchester, so that townspeople from Huntingdon could easily attend. There was a wood to the west; people should look for torches that would light the way.

‘Have you formed a strategy?' he asked Marbeck. They were in their chamber after supper.

‘Several,' Marbeck replied, ‘all of which I've since discounted. I'll see how the land lies, and pick my moment.'

‘And if young Master Scroop won't listen to you, what do you intend? Dragging him away by force?'

‘I'll tell his mother I've done all that's in my power.'

‘Well then, perhaps you require help,' the other said after a moment. When Marbeck looked up, he added: ‘I'll eschew my distaste and accompany you. I'm a traveller passing through here, merely one of the curious.'

‘There's no need for you to come,' Marbeck said.

‘Yet I will,' came the reply. ‘Having endured the dogma of dyed-in-the-wool Papists at Wisbech, hearing those who dwell at the other end of the scale might be something of a relief.'

So as dusk fell the two of them left the inn, walked through Huntingdon and crossed into Godmanchester. Here they found people making their way upriver, straggling in twos and threes. In a few minutes they were crossing a waterlogged meadow towards a dense wood – and soon, a single flame glowed ahead. It turned out to be a torch fixed to a post, beside a rough track. Several cloaked and hatted figures, both men and women, were heading into the trees. Marbeck and Poyns, also cloaked, without swords but with hidden poniards, followed until another torch appeared. Finally they emerged in a clearing where a small crowd was gathering. There was a fire blazing, and beside it a stump on which, they assumed, Isaac Gow would stand to speak. For the moment he was not to be seen, though his followers were standing around. The talk was low and subdued.

Marbeck glanced about warily, keeping his distance from the fire. He wore his hat pulled low, fearing recognition after his confrontation with the company. Poyns however was at ease, wandering round with undisguised curiosity. He ignored Marbeck as if they were unacquainted. Meanwhile Marbeck worked his way across the clearing, keeping an eye out for Henry Scroop. At last he caught sight of him, standing near the fire with others of the company. In the glow, the boy's face appeared flushed with excitement. Then a hush fell as quite suddenly Gow appeared, striding purposefully as always, bare-headed and stern-faced. Quickly he mounted the tree-stump, placed feet firmly apart, and addressed his congregation.

‘Brethren, I bid you welcome! In the name of the holy saints, peace to you all. And in anticipation of the rapture to come, I urge you to join the faithful in worship!'

There was a murmur, while the little crowd gathered about him. Marbeck stepped aside as people brushed past. Gow's own followers stood behind him in a tight body as if to defend him, but there was no threat. These soberly dressed townspeople, if not Puritans of the strictest kind, were at least a sympathetic audience. As they surged closer Marbeck peered over heads and saw Henry at Gow's side, face upturned eagerly … then he stiffened, and whirled round.

There was a rustling in the trees behind him, which became running footsteps. Then came shouts, as several men crashed into the clearing wielding sticks – and in a moment, panic broke out. Cries and screams followed, as the crowd fell back in alarm. One of the interlopers charged past Marbeck, swinging a billet. Dropping to a crouch, Marbeck looked round for Poyns, but saw no sign of him. People were running in all directions … he caught a glimpse of Gow, being hurried away by his followers. Then he too was running, towards the spot where he had last seen Henry Scroop … until he tripped over something hard, and landed flat in the grass. Winded, he got to his knees, while figures moved crazily about him in the glow of the fire.

Then someone hit him, and the firelight became a galaxy of stars.

W
ith confusion all about him, Marbeck struggled to clear his head. He had received a blow to the temple, but was not badly hurt. Looking round, he saw that the clearing was almost empty, the congregation having scattered into the wood. But there were shouts nearby, where several men were seemingly engaged in a scuffle. On his feet, he turned sharply as someone ran towards him, then saw it was Poyns.

‘Are you hurt?'

‘The boy …' Marbeck began.

‘Forget him. Come away – quickly!'

He hesitated, but seeing no sign of Henry, moved off with his companion. Someone shouted after them, but they were soon in the trees and away from the firelight. Stumbling in the dark, they eventually saw a glow from a torch and headed towards it. Others were doing the same: they heard footfalls, and a woman weeping as she ran. Soon they were on the track leading out of the wood. A few minutes later, their shoes soaking wet from crossing the meadow, they reached the Godmanchester bridge and halted.

‘They were hired men,' Poyns said. ‘Sent to break up the meeting …' He bent to regain his breath. ‘They've taken Gow prisoner.'

‘What of Henry – did you see him?' Marbeck asked.

The other shook his head. ‘It was a melee. Some people got hurt, but most ran away. Gow might have done so too – his followers tried to resist, but they were scared off.'

They started walking, but as they crossed the bridge both slowed down. On the Huntingdon side there were torches, and several men standing to bar their way. At sight of them one called out.

‘Come forward and show yourselves!'

Marbeck turned to Poyns. ‘Can you sing
O Mistress Mine
?' he asked.

‘Are you in jest?' Poyns retorted. But seeing Marbeck's expression, he gave a nod. They walked on until they found themselves facing three or four townsmen in plain garb, who looked ill at ease.

‘State your names and your business.' The leader, a morose fellow, held a stave which he levelled at Marbeck.

‘Richard Strang, player upon the lute,' Marbeck said. ‘This is my friend … Wisbech. We're entertainers—'

‘Do you trifle with me?' The constable glowered at him. ‘You've been at the meeting in the woods – you went to hear the separatist devil Gow.'