A Conspiracy of Violence (40 page)

‘You do not believe in moderation and tolerance?’

‘Of course. But I do not think it will be achieved by throwing in my lot with regicides, greedy merchants, devious diplomats
and brainless soldiers.’

‘What about Thurloe? You did not mention him.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Leybourn, as if he did not matter. ‘And John Thurloe.’

‘I think I will demand to see your brother. You reneged on your side of the bargain by lying.’

‘I have not,’ said Leybourn indignantly. ‘I just forgot to mention someone. You cannot kill Rob over a slip of my mind.’

‘Thurloe is a man of considerable presence, worth all these others put together. He is not easily overlooked, as I am sure
you know only too well.’

‘I do not know what you mean.’

‘Come on, Leybourn. I know you are his spy, just as you know I am.’

The bookseller looked as though he would argue, but
saw the harsh expression on Chaloner’s face and thought better of it. ‘How did you guess?’ he asked in a voice full of resignation.

‘You made several mistakes. First, I claimed to be distressed when I saw Lee’s murdered body, and you said I should be used
to it. You should not have known anything about what I had experienced in the past, so it was obvious someone had told you:
Thurloe.’

‘That is not true!’ declared Leybourn. ‘You have no evidence to—’

‘Second, London is a large city, and before last Friday, we were strangers. But, over the past few days, we have met in the
street, in shops, and I even spotted you watching my room from the chamber Thurloe rents in the Golden Lion. And did you enjoy
the play last night?’

‘It was dire,’ said Leybourn, capitulating with poor grace. ‘I credited you with more taste.’

Chaloner raised his eyebrows. ‘Metje said it was the best thing she had ever seen, so one of you is wrong. Perhaps we should
ask Thurloe to decide. He might even give us an honest answer for once.’

‘Please do not tell him you smoked me out,’ said Leybourn sulkily. ‘You obviously care nothing for his good opinion, but I
do. For some unaccountable reason, he likes you, Chaloner. Why do you think I was told to follow you? Because
he
was concerned for you after your encounter with Kelyng.’

‘I suppose he told you my real name, too? He has been rather free with it of late. But never mind him, tell me about the day
we met. Your appearance outside Kelyng’s house was no accident.’

‘I was posted there, because Thurloe had anticipated the satchel would be stolen – he had agents in place all
across the city, since he did not know which of his enemies would be responsible. I saw Snow and Storey arrive, and then
I watched you follow Hewson inside Kelyng’s garden. At the time, I had no way of knowing whether you had been sent by Thurloe
or were one of his foes. I manoeuvred my way towards you, and … well, we became friends.’

‘Friends?’ Chaloner did not think so.

‘Colleagues, then. Why do you think I told Kelyng you owned a turkey? I was protecting a fellow spy. And I still have the
book you sold me. I will not sell it – I will keep it until you can pay me back, no matter how long it takes. A man should
never part with books, and I could see you did not like doing it.’

Chaloner relented slightly. It was a generous offer. ‘You asked a lot of questions that first day.’

Leybourn’s grin was rueful. ‘And you answered none of them properly. But what happens now? Shall we work together, to find
out what Kelyng plans for Thurloe?’

‘No,’ said Chaloner firmly. ‘I intend to break with him today, and concentrate on persuading the government to send me to
Holland with my family. I want no more to do with Thurloe and his lies.’

‘You will upset him if you phrase your resignation like that,’ said Leybourn unhappily. ‘He has always been more fond of you
than the rest of us – perhaps because of your uncle.’

‘My uncle,’ said Chaloner bitterly. ‘Will I never be free of the man?’

It was still early – there was not the slightest gleam of silver in the sky – and Chaloner did not feel inclined to hammer
on Lincoln’s Inn’s gate until one of the porters
woke to let him inside. The foundation was surrounded by a high wall, but this was no obstacle to a man who had made a career
out of finding ways inside places that wanted to exclude him. He selected a spot where the bricks were old and crumbling,
and was over it in no time at all. He was surprised to find armed men prowling the grounds, but put their presence down to
an increased concern about burglars – crime rates always rose when villains knew there was a good chance their victims would
be out at church, and Christmas Day was an important religious festival. But it was not difficult to evade the guards in the
darkness, and he reached Dial Court unchallenged.

He was about to walk up the stairs and knock at Chamber XIII, when he saw a shadow cross Thurloe’s sitting room window – a
shape too bulky to be the ex-Spymaster. Chaloner hesitated, then went to stand under it, listening intently. A rumble of voices
told him Thurloe had more than one visitor. Curious, he began to climb the wall outside, using cracks in the masonry to pull
himself upwards. It was not long before he had ascended high enough to look in.

The usual fire was burning in the hearth, but Thurloe was not in his favourite chair. Sarah sat in it, eyes on a book that
lay open on her knees. Thurloe was at the table, a man on either side of him, and all three heads were bent in earnest conversation.
Chaloner took a firm grip on the sill and eased into a position where he could see them better. On Thurloe’s right was Ingoldsby,
his jowls quivering as he devoured nuts from a bowl. Opposite was Dalton, pale and nervous.

Chaloner took his dagger and inserted it in the window frame, jiggling it until he had eased it open. He jerked
out of sight when Sarah glanced up, then pushed it open a little wider when she turned her attention back to her reading.

‘So, we are agreed,’ Thurloe was saying. ‘You do nothing, and I will resolve the matter.’

‘No, we are
not
agreed!’ said Dalton in a furious whisper. ‘
I
do not agree.’

Thurloe made a placatory gesture to indicate the vintner was to calm himself. ‘If you become any more agitated, you will not
need Tom Chaloner to give you away – you will do it yourself.’

Ingoldsby tossed almonds into his mouth. ‘You are worrying over nothing, Dalton. Kelyng is too stupid to reason sense into
the mass of disparate facts he has unearthed, and you have already murdered that poor old woman – to cover tracks that did
not exist.’

‘You should not have done that,’ said Thurloe, and Chaloner knew from the way his eyes bored into Dalton that he was angry
about it. ‘It was totally unnecessary.’

‘It was totally stupid, too,’ said Ingoldsby, scoffing more nuts. ‘It was the needless murder of Pinchon that led Chaloner
to draw the conclusions he did. Thurloe is right: we should leave this to him – he knows what he is doing, and you most certainly
do not.’

‘I will not rest easy until Chaloner is dead,’ protested Dalton. ‘I should have put a knife in him at the Tower, but Robinson
was watching. I
knew
I could not trust Bennet to see him quietly dispatched.’

Thurloe was livid. ‘Are you saying it was
your
idea to let the lion out? God’s grace, man! It might have savaged anyone. What were you thinking of ?’

Dalton was unrepentant. ‘Bennet told me at a Royal Foundation conclave at St Paul’s on Thursday how he
had almost killed Chaloner when he let the lion loose before – he had tied ropes across stairs and all sorts – so I asked
him to try it again. I was in a panic, and did not think Wade would end up falling to his death. I am sorry. What more can
I say?’

‘You are
sorry
?’ echoed Thurloe, appalled. ‘I—’

‘The Royal Foundation?’ interrupted Ingoldsby, cutting across him in horror. ‘Are you telling me
Bennet
is a member of the Royal Foundation? Ye gods! I thought it was an organisation that enrolled respectable men. We sit in company
with the Queen, for Christ’s sake. I shall resign if
he
has been elected.’

Dalton grimaced. ‘His coins are silver, just like yours, and he was desperate to join us. But never mind him – I am more concerned
with Chaloner. We are in danger as long as he lives. He tricked me into exposing my membership of the Seven, but he already
knew about Thurloe’s.’

Thurloe rubbed his eyes. ‘Time is passing, and you should be on your way. Do as I say, Dalton, or I will go to Kelyng and
tell him everything myself. You know me well enough to appreciate that this is not an idle threat.’

Ingoldsby reached across the table and grabbed Dalton by the lace at his throat. ‘And since that would harm me as well as
you, I strongly recommend you do as he says. Do I make myself clear?’

Dalton nodded resentfully.

Ingoldsby released him and lowered his voice, indicating Sarah with a jerk of his thumb. ‘And next time, do not bring
her
with you. There should be
three
of us who know about this business, but thanks to you there are four. It was wholly unnecessary to confide in her.’

‘I beg to differ,’ said Dalton coldly. ‘Thurloe cares
nothing for us, but he loves his sister. He will think twice about betraying us if he thinks she might come to harm, too.’

Thurloe’s face wore an expressionless mask that Chaloner thought made him look more dangerous than he had ever seen him. Had
he been in Dalton’s position, he would have been seriously worried. Ingoldsby stood, took the last of the nuts and stalked
towards the door. Before he opened it, he turned and spoke in a voice that carried enough menace to make Chaloner shiver.

‘None of this can be proven, and if you two keep your heads, we will come through it unscathed. But be warned: if
you
break and try to implicate me, I will fight with all I have. I will destroy you, your families and everything you hold dear,
so think twice before your resolve weakens.’

A few moments later, Chaloner saw him stride across the courtyard and shout to the porters to let him out. Meanwhile, Dalton
snatched his hat from a hook on the wall, and jammed it on his head in a way that suggested he was livid. Sarah set down her
book and swung her cloak around her shoulders, while Chaloner recalled guiltily that her hat and wig were still stuffed behind
the bed in his room.

Dalton turned to Thurloe. ‘I did the right thing by killing Mother Pinchon. I made everything safer.’

‘You did immeasurable damage,’ countered Thurloe coldly. ‘It was a bad decision and you precipitated a chain of events that
brought two people I love into grave danger. I shall never forgive you for it, and I meant what I said just now: if you make
any more mistakes, I
will
go to Kelyng. Leave Chaloner to me. I will do what is necessary to silence him.’

Dalton left without another word. Sarah kissed her
brother’s cheek before she followed, and then Thurloe was alone. When he went to wash his face in the bowl of water that
stood near the fire, Chaloner used the noise of splashing to cover the sound of the window opening further still. Then, when
Thurloe’s face was buried in the linen he used for drying, he climbed inside.

‘You do not need to send armed horsemen after me this time,’ he said. ‘I have come to you.’

Thurloe jumped in alarm, then relaxed when he recognised the intruder. ‘Close the window, Tom. There is no need for us to
freeze to death.’

Chaloner obliged, and Thurloe went to his usual place by the hearth. Chaloner remained standing, although he edged closer
to the fire. It had been cold outside, and he was chilled through.

‘I tried,’ said Thurloe wearily. ‘I tried so very hard. Damn Dalton and his stupidity! I thought I could trust him, but fear
has unhinged the fellow, and he threatens to destroy us all – including two people who should be nowhere near this mess –
you and Sarah. I could kill him for it.’

‘The Seven,’ said Chaloner. ‘You, Dalton, the four regicides – Hewson, Barkstead, Livesay and Ingoldsby – and one other. Barkstead’s
seven thousand pounds – his godly golden goose – was the money Swanson earned for revealing your identities. Swanson sent
his letter, but the information never reached the King. Kelyng thinks you intercepted it at the General Letter Office.’

Thurloe nodded, and closed his eyes. ‘The duties of Postmaster General fell to me during the Protectorate – obviously, they
sat well with my role as Spymaster – and it was my job to prevent such intelligence reaching our
enemies. The gold had already been paid, but I was able to prevent the letter from reaching the wrong hands – just.’

‘I do not understand,’ said Chaloner. ‘Why would you become involved in such a thing?’

‘Because I was trying to preserve the Commonwealth. It was what I believed in. I did everything in my power to see it continue
after the Protector’s death, but once Richard Cromwell had abdicated and Charles was invited home, I saw it was a lost cause
and gave it up. The Seven operated
only
during the Commonwealth: we have done nothing since the King returned, and nor will we.’

‘That is not surprising,’ said Chaloner harshly. ‘At least three of you are dead.’

Thurloe did not acknowledge the comment. ‘All I want is to live quietly – there will be no more plotting from me. I believe
Ingoldsby and Dalton feel the same.’

‘You used the Brotherhood as a shield,’ said Chaloner, thinking about what he had reasoned. ‘The Seven was a sub-group within
it, so you could meet without arousing suspicion. Other men joined later – Downing, Robert Leybourn, North, Evett and Wade
– and their open ways concealed the fact that there was something other than moderation and tolerance in the offing. But you
have not been to recent meetings because there is no longer any need to maintain the pretence: the Seven are defunct.’

Thurloe inclined his head. ‘It worked well: one secret organisation within another.’

‘All your loose ends are tied,’ said Chaloner. ‘Mother Pinchon is dead, so she will not be telling anyone else about Barkstead’s
message. Her contact, Wade, is also dead. Do you know who killed him – who pushed him to his death as he was trying to warn
Bennet about the
lion? I glimpsed him on the wall-walk, but Wade told