A Traitor's Tears (31 page)

‘No more timid than you are now!' Wyse snarled back.

‘That's enough!' said Yarrow, stepping in between them. ‘You two will be taken to the castle and … yes?'

Ryder had stepped forward and laid a hand on Captain Yarrow's arm. He spoke rapidly into the captain's ear. We waited, noticing that the flames were at last dying down, as the fire ran out of fuel. The bucket chains were still at work, but had more than enough men to keep them going. Brockley rejoined us.

‘There'll be nothing left of that weaving shed,' he said, ‘but it looks as if the house behind it hasn't come to much harm. The Ballangers will still have a home. If they're left free to live in it!'

The colloquy between Ryder and Yarrow ended, and Yarrow barked out some orders. Lebrun's captors marched him and Ballanger away and two more men stepped forward to take hold of Wyse, who tried to resist but was also marched off, shouting a demand to know why he had been seized and where he was being taken. Ryder came over to us.

‘I've put Wyse under restraint. He evidently knows Lebrun well and, by the sound of it, there's been something going on between them. I can't leave him free – even if he did protect Walsingham's reputation! You three should go back to the inn and rest. Tomorrow, I will fetch you to the castle. I think we may learn something. Have your horses ready by nine of the clock.'

Ryder fetched us as he had promised. Soberly, we rode with him along the sunlit street which nevertheless held the smoky smell of last night's catastrophe. I asked Ryder whether Ballanger had remained under arrest.

‘He's being held for questioning, like Wyse. His chief assistant is, as well. We let the women and their maidservants go. They've gone back to the house to see what sort of a house it still is.'

‘Who are we to see at the castle?' Brockley asked. His voice was wary. ‘Are we being brought there for some sort of questioning, as well?'

Ryder laughed. ‘No. You're witnesses. I've confided fully in Captain Yarrow and so has the queen's messenger – a good man, that; he was in a bucket chain last night. Captain Yarrow is very interested in the – shall I call it the fog? – of vague suspicion surrounding Roland Wyse.'

‘He tried to marry me,' I said thoughtfully.

‘That's suspicious, too. Once married to him, you would have been largely under his control.'

‘And at his mercy,' I said grimly.

‘Precisely. And now, of course, we find that he and Lebrun know each other and Lebrun seems to have advised Wyse to take what Wyse appears to think was a dangerous course, though we don't know what it was … There's a lot that needs clarifying. We are setting out now to clarify it. I think we may be in for an interesting morning.'

It took some time to reach the castle. There was a long winding chalk track up a green hill, towards the fortress at the top. As we neared it, we felt that it was looming over us. We passed under first one arch and then another, leading through walls so massive that they made me shiver. I think they made Brockley shiver, too, and Dale said to me: ‘I'm glad we aren't staying here. I couldn't abide that. I'd never sleep, in a place like this. It's frightening.'

Once through the second arch, we dismounted and our horses were led away, while we were met by a butler with a gold chain of office, who showed us into the building. There were steps and passages and then, at last, we were brought into a small study where we found Captain Yarrow. There were some stools and the usual ledger-laden shelves and a desk strewn with papers, but Yarrow was not at his desk. He was perched on the window seat beyond it. He was clad in soldierly fashion, with well-polished boots, hose striped in sombre brown and black, and a black jacket with a wide leather collar. A white linen collar on top of this protected his neck from chafing. His hair was short and his beard trimmed. A small crossbow lay beside him, with a bolt placed ready for use. And his strong, square hands were busy with an embroidery frame.

We all stopped short in astonishment but Captain Yarrow merely put down his improbable occupation and gave us good morning. The window was partly open and outside, we could hear someone barking orders. I moved nearer and saw that down below was an open space covered with sand, where a dozen or so young men appeared to be receiving a lesson in musketry.

‘New recruits,' said Yarrow, jerking his head towards the window. ‘This lot are unusually raw and useless but before Sergeant Burke has finished with them they'll be well-trained soldiers. He never fails. He's a hard taskmaster but his methods work … Good God!'

He had glanced out as he spoke and his body had stiffened. ‘What is that idiot doing? Why hasn't Burke noticed? Does the stupid boy want to blow the sergeant's head off? He probably does, Burke being Burke, but it can't be allowed, no, really, it can't.'

He leant forward, snatched up the crossbow, wound it with a couple of swift and expert movements, shoved the window wider, leant out and discharged the bolt. I saw it strike just in front of a lad who was indeed holding his musket awkwardly, with its muzzle pointing towards the instructor, who was engaged just then in shouting at somebody else. The boy sprang back in fright and Yarrow, leaning out of the window, shouted: ‘Never point a musket at anyone unless you're willing to kill him!'

I saw the sergeant swing round, and the boy's pale face turn to look up at the window, but Yarrow simply slammed it shut and put down the crossbow.

‘He won't make that mistake again,' he said calmly. ‘Of course, there's no gunpowder in those muskets and the lads at this stage have no means of firing them. They're just learning to aim straight and obey orders. But they have to grasp first principles. Now, my friends, to business. Everything is prepared.'

He rubbed his hands in that oddly disagreeable gesture of his, and emitted a laugh that was nearly a giggle. ‘I daresay you are surprised at my choice of a pastime.' He patted the embroidery frame. ‘I learned this art when I was laid up with a broken leg, after an accident during an exercise. I find it most relaxing. Also creative and even remunerative. I sell my embroideries to be used as cushion covers and dress trimmings and the like.' His voice altered suddenly. It was still high-pitched, but it had acquired authority. ‘I also give instruction in accurate shooting, muskets or crossbows. People who make mistaken judgements about me, usually change their minds in the end.'

No one said anything. After the demonstration of the captain's skill with his weapon, no one would have dared to suggest that his liking for needlework was peculiar.

‘In fact,' he said, quietly now, ‘I somewhat dislike the use of force when questioning people. It's unpleasant to watch, and produces lies as often as the truth. That's why I've devised the method that you're about to witness. It isn't always suitable, of course. One needs to be questioning two people at a time, not just one. But I have found it useful. Come with me.'

I had a hollow feeling in my stomach as we followed him out of the room. Dale, who had not uttered a word, looked pale and Brockley was uneasy, glancing from side to side as we were taken through a tangle of passages. In my ear, he said softly: ‘I wish I knew what was going to happen. This place makes me nervous. I feel as if we'd all been arrested. Just suppose …'

He didn't finish the sentence. I put a hand on his arm, trying to offer reassurance, but I, too, wished I knew what was going to happen.

We were eventually shown through a heavy oak door with squeaky hinges, and into a cramped stone room, smaller than Yarrow's office, and shadowy, for the candles in the sconces weren't lit and the three small windows let in little daylight. The room was poorly furnished. There was an empty hearth, and against one wall was a settle, above which hung a small tapestry, with what looked like a geometric pattern, though in the bad light, I couldn't be sure. There was nothing else.

Yarrow, however, led us straight across to a low door on the far side and let us into a bigger, less gloomy chamber. The windows were no better but the candles were lit and the walls were panelled. There seemed to be some kind of cupboard door in the wall between this and the dismal stone room. Yarrow beckoned us towards it and we crowded round to see that we were looking into the adjacent room through a kind of window, or would have been, except that the tapestry had been hung over it, presumably to hide it.

‘You'll find,' said Yarrow, ‘that if we all stand here in a row, we'll be able to hear any conversation in the next room quite well. Its height is convenient enough for all of us.'

‘Conversation?' I asked.

‘Between Roland Wyse and Gilles Lebrun,' said Yarrow, rubbing his hands again. ‘I feel sure they've a lot to talk about. Don't you feel that? Hush. Here they come.'

W
e heard the door hinges squeak as someone came into the adjoining room. A man's voice said curtly: ‘You wait in here till we're ready to interrogate you. You'll have company in a moment. We have quite a few of you to get through this morning.'

Wyse's voice, shakily, said: ‘Who else?'

‘Ballanger and his chief assistant,' said his escort. ‘A carder and a fuller, suspected of arson. And here's Master Lebrun. He's on the list as well.'

Feet shuffled. A different man said: ‘Just get in there and wait.' Then came the slam and squeak of the far door being closed, and the thud of a bolt being shot. Wyse said venomously: ‘
You!
'

‘Yes, me. We seem to be in deep water together,' said Lebrun.

There was a rustling sound close by. The two of them had probably sat down on the bench below the tapestry. There was nowhere else to sit. Lebrun's voice said: ‘The sun's bright enough outside but it's cold in here.'

‘Fear,' said Wyse. ‘That's what it is. What's going to happen to us? I curse the day I ever listened to you. And now I find that you –
you!
– are one of those damned Jesuits. How could you, Gilles? How
could
you?'

‘God called me.'

‘Phooey!'

‘I was at a church service, in France, a simple country service, but the priest was a knowledgeable man and he gave a homily about the Jesuits, and their sacred task, the task of bringing true faith to all lost souls, and then I knew. It was like St Paul as he went towards Damascus. I
knew
. I heard God's voice calling. I went afterwards to talk to the priest and everything followed from there.'

‘You poor, deluded
idiot
!'

‘You don't understand, though I wish you would. It is wonderful! The yielding up of oneself, the passing through into a great, wide, marvellous world of light and faith! We swear utter obedience to the Pope, you know. If he were to declare that the night sky is white and the stars specks of black, we would believe it.'

‘Even if you could see perfectly clearly that the truth is the opposite?'

‘We would know our eyes had been deceived by the Devil.'

‘I heard from my guards that you were caught with all your vestments and a silver chalice and a phial of incense. How did you get them past the Dover authorities?'

‘I packed my ordinary clothes in a box with a false bottom, of course. What a silly question. And I would have been safe away at cockcrow, but for those fools setting fire to the weaving shed! More of the devil's work, I fear.'

‘You're frightened now, for all your fine talk of light and faith,' said Wyse. ‘I can hear it in your voice.'

‘The flesh is frail. I shall pray for strength. Strength will be needed, and endurance. When enough Jesuit priests are ready, they will set forth on a major mission. The few priests that are here now are mostly from other Orders, and are mostly here as individuals – because they yearn to bring light into darkness and show lost souls the true way, whatever laws that man Walsingham may pass against them. I am here as an individual myself. I asked permission to come. But the priests that have come to England so far are but a trickle compared to the flood that the Jesuits will let loose when at last they sally forth officially! Oh, if only you had taken my advice and carried it through! Our hopes would be that much greater. Walsingham is dangerous – exceptionally so. Few can match him. My guards let something fall just as yours did – there's suspicion clinging round you, something to do with two deaths, and a cipher letter. It sounds as if you tried, but something went amiss. What was it?'

They were silent for a moment, during which Captain Yarrow breathed: ‘
Talkative guards. My idea
.'

Then Wyse said, ‘I did try. God's death, I tried! I hate Walsingham as much as it's possible for any man to hate another. He murdered my brother. Thomas Howard was not only my brother; he was my best friend. I only found him when I was fully grown and it was as though heaven had given me a marvellous gift. And then Walsingham took him away. Thomas could be foolish – he'd heard of Mary Stuart's charm; he'd fallen in love with her by hearsay, built absurd hopes round her, made her the centre of an imaginary world – but for all that, he wasn't wicked. Just … a dreamer. And my kin. But Walsingham destroyed him. I saw it done. I saw my brother die. I wanted to see Walsingham discredited, disgraced, charged with treason himself! I wanted to see him executed! With all my heart I wanted it.'

‘So what went wrong?' said Lebrun.

There was a pause. Then: ‘I lost my nerve,' said Wyse.

After another pause, Lebrun said, without expression: ‘You poor wretch. Well? Just what did happen?'

‘I took your advice. I picked a man who was poor and not very clever, and willing enough, if paid well, to carry what I called privy letters to Dover and not ask what was in them. Not the sort of man who's any loss. His name was Jack Jarvis. He was a cottager – a tenant of a man called Cobbold. I know Cobbold well and call on him sometimes. But things started going wrong from the very beginning. Cobbold's wife, Jane, a stupid, garrulous woman if ever there was one, had to butt in! She turned up at Jarvis's cottage while I was talking to him and overheard me from outside. It was a fine day and we had a window open. Then in she comes and starts talking about what she's heard! God's teeth, I nearly had a seizure, listening to her.'