The King's Evil (35 page)

The
meeting was held in one of the warehouses which had not yet been rebuilt after
the Great Fire. Largely destroyed, it had one bay which was still roofed and
with walls thick enough to muffle the sounds of Christian witness which rose up
within. When the meeting was over, the Quakers left singly or in pairs so that
nobody would realise they had attended an illegal gathering. Among the last to
venture out of the stricken warehouse was Jesus-Died-To- Save-Me Thorpe and his
wife. Hail-Mary Thorpe was a small, bird-like woman who seemed to hop along the
ground on the arm of her husband. She had a tiny face with pin-prick eyes and a
blob of a nose. It was she who first spotted their neighbour.

Jonathan
Bale was gazing at the Thames when they came up.

'Good
day to thee, Mr Bale!' said Hail-Mary Thorpe.

The
constable turned and touched the brim of his hat in greeting.

'I
had supposed thou hadst thy fill of the river last night,' observed Thorpe with
a grim smile. 'Art thou recovered, neighbour?' 'I am, Mr Thorpe. Thank you for
your help.'

'It
was the least I could do for thee.'

'Mrs
Bale and thee have been good to us,' said his wife. 'We could not have better
neighbours. Many a time when thou might have hadst cause to arrest us, we were
sent on our way with a kind warning from thee. It was always appreciated.'

'Though
not always heeded, alas,' said Jonathan with a twinkle.

'We
are what we are,' announced Thorpe.

'Nobody
has been left in any doubt of that, sir.'

'Remember
us for our honesty before God, if for nothing else.'

'Remember
you?'

'Yes,
Mr Bale. We are leaving thee and this sinful city.'

'But
we will miss our neighbours,' added his wife. 'Mrs Bale has been my doctor so
many times now. I was blessed in her loving kindness.'

'You
depart from London?' said Jonathan.

'Before
we are forced to,' replied Thorpe. 'We have decided to join the brave new
community which has been set up in America. I thought it best to sail away from
this country in a state of freedom or this cruel government would have me
deported in chains. We go to New England, sir. New life, new hope, new
challenges.'

'You
will meet many of those, I suspect,' said Jonathan. 'But I wish you both well.
It takes courage to cross the ocean.'

'That
is the only part which worries me,' confessed Hail-Mary Thorpe. 'I have no
fears about what we shall find when we get there but the voyage itself is
fraught with danger. Tell us, Mr Bale, for most of thy life has been spent
among ships and those who sail in them. What is the best thing to take on such
a long and arduous voyage?'

'Belief
in God. He is a master mariner.'

'Then
we are saved.'

'Just
as I told thee, Hail-Mary,' said her husband solicitously. 'We have no need to
fear if we put our trust in God.'

Their
decision produced a confused response in Jonathan. He was not sure whether to
sigh over the loss of such decent neighbours or to rejoice at his escape from
the burden of arresting them from time to time. New England might be a more
amenable place for assertive Quakers.

'Is
London so hateful a place that you must flee it?' he asked.

'It
is since the cloven hoof returned,' said Thorpe.

'Cloven
hoof?'

'I
speak of the Devil who rules this city and corrupts it with his own wickedness.
He is the real reason why we must quit this swamp of iniquity.-' Thorpe raised
an admonitory finger. 'Ask of us who is sending our little family thousands of
miles away to enjoy a more godly existence and we will tell thee straight. It
is that Lord of Hell,' he asserted with withering scorn. 'King Charles.'

Whitehall
Palace consisted of a motley collection of buildings scattered over a large
acreage. If the Banqueting House formed its architectural pearl, it was
surrounded by many semi-precious stones, some of which were badly chipped. The
royal apartments were situated in the southern half of the palace, looking out
across a well-trimmed green sward which swept down to the river. Christopher
Redmayne and his brother entered through the Palace Gate and made their way
towards the Great Hall. When they entered the building, a guard was waiting to
lead them through a bewildering maze to the royal Drawing Room.

Henry
glided into it with the confidence of a man who was at his ease in the palace
but Christopher looked in awe at the opulence around him. The room was a
fruitful source of study for any architect and he quite forgot the purpose of
their visit. He was still trying to estimate the cost of the superb chandeliers
when his brother's cough alerted him to the presence of the King. Charles
entered from a door at the far end and posed before the fireplace. After bowing
politely, the brothers approached.

Proximity
filled Christopher with the glow of privilege.

The
King had been imposing when viewed from the rear of the Banqueting Hall but he
was much more striking when only yards away. It was not just the exquisite
apparel and the dignified posture. There was a grandeur about the man which set
him above ordinary mortals. Christopher found it faintly disappointing when the
glorious demi-god before him resorted to something as mundane as human speech.

'What
is this nonsense about a Popish plot?' he asked.

'It
is not nonsense, Your Majesty,' said Henry. 'At least, I hope that it is not,
for all our sakes. My brother will explain.'

Christopher
inclined his head respectfully. Charles regarded him.

'An
architect, I hear?'

'That
is so, Your Majesty.'

'What
do you think of my palace?'

'May
I be candid?'

'I
will accept nothing less from you.'

'You
are worthy of something much finer.'

'That
is what I tell my Parliament year after year but they will not give me the
money to improve it. Kings need kingly surroundings. Parts of this palace make
me feel more like a tradesman than a monarch.' He beckoned his visitor forward.
'Stand here by me, Mr Redmayne. I await your explanation of this alleged
conspiracy.'

Christopher
took a couple of steps forward, noting that he had been placed within earshot
of the door. The King was alone but Christopher had a strong feeling that
someone else was listening. It did not hamper his recitation of the facts.

'Your
Majesty,' he began, 'will be aware of the cruel murder of Sir Ambrose
Northcott, stabbed to death by an unknown assailant. Shortly afterwards, a
second victim, Mr Solomon Creech, fell to the same killer. Mr Creech was Sir
Ambrose's lawyer and privy to the many secrets in his life. I have been trying
to unravel those secrets and they have brought me to a stark conclusion.' 'Give
it to me in one concise sentence,' ordered Charles.

'The
murders were preliminaries to your assassination.'

'That
is a bold claim, Mr Redmayne.'

'So
I told him, Your Majesty,' said Henry, determined not to be left out. 'But he
convinced me. Listen patiently and I am quite sure that my brother will
convince you as well.'

Charles
looked pained. 'I am not easily convinced.'

'May
I go on, Your Majesty?' asked Christopher.

'If
you must. A warning, however.'

'Your
Majesty?'

'It
is time for my walk. Be brisk.'

Christopher
needed no second invitation. His account was succinct but persuasive. It was
the mention of Paris which took the cynicism out of the royal gaze and the
discovery aboard the
Marie Louise
made him stroke his moustache
reflectively. When Christopher stopped, the King gave him an approving nod.

'You
can present a cogent argument, sir.'

'Thank
you, Your Majesty.'

'I
have done my share,' said Henry plaintively.

Charles
ignored him. 'Where is this list?' he asked.

'I
have it here, Your Majesty,' said Christopher, taking the document from his
pocket to pass it over. 'When I first saw the names, I did not realise their
full significance. It was only when Henry arranged them in order for me that I
could see just how many members of Your Majesty's government have responded to
the blandishments of Mrs Mandrake.'

Charles
was torn between amusement and surprise.

'Everyone
but the Earl of Clarendon is here,' he said, studying the names. 'By Jupiter!
Can Sir Roger Shorthorn really have the gall to visit a house of resort? What
do the ladies do with him - take it in turns to search for his missing member?'
He became serious. 'But you are quite correct, Mr Redmayne. There is a pattern
here.'

'Yes,
Your Majesty,' said Christopher. 'Over half of the men on that list are in a
position to divulge sensitive information about affairs of state. When I
visited the house myself, the young lady assigned to me showed more than
interest when I pretended to be a regular visitor at Court. She positively
interrogated me about you.'

'What
was her name?'

'Sweet
Ellen.'

'She
always takes charge of newcomers to the house,' explained Henry. 'It was Sweet
Ellen who favoured me on my first visit there. I was so busy enjoying myself
that I thought her endless questions were simple curiosity. Now I know
otherwise.'

'My
brother was being pumped, Your Majesty,' said Christopher. 'Subtly but
effectively. And I am certain that many of the other men on that list had a
similar experience. Quite unwittingly, they have been parting with all kinds
of state secrets to Mrs Mandrake and her ladies.'

'And
where do those secrets end up?' said the King.

'In
France. Carried there by Monsieur Charentin aboard the
Marie Louise.
That is why he is so generous a benefactor. He is not just paying for any
services which the ladies render. He is rewarding his spies.'

The
King examined the list again then strolled to the door. Without a word, he let
himself out. Christopher and Henry watched with growing dismay as the minutes
past.

'Have
I said something to vex him?' asked Christopher.

'I
hope not.'

'Where
has he gone, Henry?'

'For
his daily walk, by the look of it.'

The
door suddenly opened again and Charles strode in to take up the same position.
They noticed that he no longer carried the list.

'Tell
me, Mr Redmayne,' he said slowly. 'Was Sir Ambrose Northcott party to this
deceit among the bedclothes?'

'No,
Your Majesty,' replied Christopher. 'I believe that he was killed before he
could find out. If he had known that his house was being used for the purposes
of spying, he would sooner have razed it to the ground than condone the
intrigue.' 'I find that reassuring.'

'Why
so, Your Majesty?'

'Because,
on more than one occasion, he invited me to visit the establishment. Sir
Ambrose was most insistent. I, of course, invariably declined,' he said airily.
'I would never dream of setting foot in such a disreputable place.'

'Yet
that was ever Molly Mandrake's theme,' recalled Henry. 'She begged me to entice
you there, Your Majesty. In order to give her house royal approbation.'

Charles
was aloof. 'Quite out of the question.'

'Is
it, Your Majesty?' said Christopher. 'I think that it is perhaps time to answer
her plea.'

'Why
on earth should I do that?'

'I
will tell you. Might I first make a suggestion?'

'What
is it?'

'Leave
the door ajar so that we can be heard more easily. I know that someone is
listening to every word we say.'

Charles
burst out laughing. 'I have a better idea,' he said, putting a hand on
Christopher's shoulder. 'Join me on my walk. This subject is best discussed in
the Privy Garden. Only the birds will eavesdrop there.'