The Licence of War (17 page)

“If I’ve understood you, my lords,” said Laurence, after another pause, “His Majesty is considering two separate alliances, one based upon religious concessions with the discontented Members of Parliament and the other with members of the City Corporation.”

“You understand perfectly, sir,” said Digby.

“Beg pardon, but I’m not yet clear: in the case of the first alliance, he’s approaching the Members as a peacemaker. In the case of the
second, he would seek assistance of these … prominent citizens in London to stir up an armed revolt, as he attempted last May.”

“We have hope, in this instance, of a more successful outcome. And it is not so much an
armed
revolt, as a means of acquiring
new friends
.”

“It appears to me that he would wear two hats at the same time.”

“Oh dear, sir,” Digby sighed, glancing at his father, “
there
you have misunderstood His Majesty! He wishes a conclusion to the war, and to the discontent of his entire kingdom! He would make welcome
all
of those who share in his desire.”

By promising them quite different things
, Laurence added. “Thank you for enlightening me, my lord.”

“We must tell you of a related development,” said Bristol, in a lower voice. “As you know, the rebel garrison at Aylesbury blocks our easiest route for a march upon London. That garrison is, however, in a parlous state – the soldiers unpaid and threatening to disband. Their senior officer, Lieutenant-Colonel Mosely, has privately expressed to me his deep regret that he took up arms against his King. He is acting as a conduit for my correspondence with Major Ogle, and has pledged his word, in exchange for a fair sum, to surrender the garrison to us at the start of our spring campaign. Once Aylesbury is in our hands, the way will be open for Prince Rupert to move swiftly on the capital.”

“If it is not
clear
to you so far, Mr. Beaumont,” said Digby, “we will reap the fruit of our labours before the Scots can rush to Parliament’s aid. And when we have London, the war may be over as quickly. What say you to that?”

Laurence struggled to answer: it was precisely the sort of intrigue that would appeal to Digby’s labyrinthine mind; and His Majesty, confident in his Divine Right to rule, would think any means fair to defeat his opponents. “My lords, I have to question whether your strategies will combine to positive effect. The moderates and independents in Parliament won’t look favourably upon an officer who betrays his garrison, or on City dignitaries who are bribed to go over to the King.”

Digby glared at Laurence as if he had suggested some indecency. “
Betrays? Bribed?
I would not choose such words.”

“
They
will use such words, you may be sure of it.”

“Sir, reflect on the timing,” intervened Bristol. “With Ogle free, His Majesty’s religious agreement should be reached by Christmastide. By spring, when Aylesbury is surrendered to us, it will be late in the day for those Members of Parliament to voice their scruples.”

“My lords,” said Laurence, “I desire a happy result for His Majesty as much as you do, but he only discredits himself by making overtures on every side and playing them off against each other.”

“Have a care, sir,” gasped Digby, “in choosing
your
words!”

“It is to His Majesty’s credit that he seeks an end to bloodshed,” Bristol reasoned. “Is not some slight subterfuge justified, to save Englishmen’s lives?”

“Mr. Beaumont is usually a cynic,” Digby said snidely. “But this morning I would almost think him possessed by the spirit of Lord Falkland, in his moral indignation.”

“If we set aside morals, my lords,” said Laurence, “either of these two Parliament men – Devenish or Mosely, or both – could betray
you
. Then you would face the same situation as in May: the Committee of Safety would broadcast the discovery of your subterfuge, Londoners would rally around Parliament, and His Majesty would lose the good will of many of his subjects.” When the lords were silent, Laurence thought he might as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb. So he carried on, “I was asked for my opinion, and I’d say as much to His Majesty: I think it laudable that he should concede to greater freedom of worship, and openly pursue the chance of peace with all those in his kingdom who are sick of bloodshed. But your hopes for London and Aylesbury are not based on sound foundations, in my professional judgement. In truth, I wish you hadn’t shared them with me.”

“We had to, sir, on the King’s request, and we thank you for your opinion,” said Digby. “But you are my agent and you are to follow my
orders, whatever your moral or professional qualms. Now, you inquired as to my mission for Mr. Price.”

“Yes, my lord,” said Laurence wearily.

“He and Violet will go together to London. Violet is familiar to the authorities, so I shall send Mr. Price into Winchester House, to complete the arrangements for Major Ogle’s release. Price will be taking him money and the requisite papers. And when that is accomplished, Price will stay in London. He will infiltrate Mr. Pym’s network of agents, and offer to spy for Clement Veech. We need a man inside who can report to us on what Veech might be hearing about our designs in the City.”

Laurence felt as though he were engulfed in quicksand. “That’s subtle work, even for an experienced man. Veech will sniff Price out before you know it, and Price will break under questioning.”

“As might you.”

“As might I, or anyone else. But why throw him in so deep, when he hasn’t been tested?”

“Are you the tiniest bit jealous of your territory, sir, or of your protégé?”

Laurence did not bother to dignify this with a response. “Let him visit Winchester House, and take Ogle what’s needed. Then he must return to us for further instruction. And we shouldn’t send him back into London until Ogle is safely in Oxford.”

Digby opened his mouth, but Bristol again intervened, placing a hand on his son’s sleeve. “Needs must, Mr. Beaumont, when the devil drives, and we are desperately short of men in the capital. Besides, we have every faith in your selection of Mr. Price, and in the thoroughness of his training. In concession to you, however, we shall let him decide for himself whether he is ready to undertake these more subtle duties. Please, have him come in.”

Laurence could not argue. He rose and went to the door. Price was chatting with Quayle in the hall outside; when he saw Laurence, he hurried over.

Laurence had a second to whisper in his ear. “They’re sending
you to London, and will ask you to enter into Veech’s service and supply us with intelligence on him.
Refuse, if you value your life
.” The moment Laurence stopped speaking, he realised he had said the stupidest thing possible.

Price’s face shone. He walked in, ahead of Laurence; and while Digby explained, in the briefest detail, about Winchester House, and then described the trickier part of his assignment, he listened avidly.

“A risk is always rewarded by His Majesty,” Digby said, smiling at Laurence.

Price did not hesitate. “I am honoured to accept, my lords, and I pray that I shall prove worthy of your trust.”

Still smiling at Laurence, Digby produced a purse from the drawer of his desk and gave it to Price. “An advance on your wages, Mr. Price. Mistress Savage’s house may become somewhat crowded when she is home from the country, so Quayle has prepared a chamber for you here, in my quarters. You may go with him to inspect it, and then you are invited to dine with me and my father. Mr. Beaumont, I thank you for a most informative conversation.”

“Might I beg a word with Mr. Beaumont before he leaves?” Price asked, his expression now that of a child about to be separated from its mother.

“We’ll talk when you come to collect your belongings from the house,” Laurence said to him. “Good day, your lordships.”

Laurence strode out and snatched his cloak from Quayle. Tugging it around his shoulders, he tore off into the street and back towards the Woodstock Road. He was so angry that he did not feel the cold, though it was indeed foul weather, and he could not blame the Trained Bands for running home. He would be as glad to desert from Digby’s service. And what more could he say to Price about the enormity of the task he had accepted? Price would not listen to
him
. Laurence next considered appealing straight to the King, to reconsider these rash schemes. But he knew that His Majesty would not listen, either. Both were already seduced, by their own aspirations and by the Digbys.

There was a carrier at Isabella’s front door, shuffling his feet to keep himself warm. “Mr. Beaumont? A letter for you, sir,” he said.

Laurence took it, hoping for her writing on the cover, but instead recognised Walter Ingram’s. He paid the man and went inside. As he threw off his cloak, her cat appeared as if out of thin air and circled him mewing; he had forgotten to feed it since the day before. And how dismal the place looked: the table was strewn with evidence of his labours with Price, and dirty glasses, plates, and knives, and stumps of burnt-out candles; skeletons of roses poked from a vase on the window ledge surrounded by a drift of decaying petals; balls of paper lay scattered across the floor; and every surface was dusty with ash from the fireplace. He went into the kitchen, the cat trotting at his heels, and rooted out some leftovers of a ham joint and a bowl of soured milk for it. Then he found a bottle of wine and started to drink as he read Ingram’s letter; he had not seen his old friend in months.

Ingram opened with kindly inquiries, and a short account of his actions in Prince Rupert’s autumn campaign. “ ‘Major Beaumont’ likes his elevated rank,” Ingram commented. Of his own sister, Sir Bernard Radcliff’s widow, he wrote, “Kate was delivered of a healthy boy on the last day of September, but the fenland air in Cambridgeshire did not agree with her. She left the Radcliff estate in the care of her steward, and has gone with the baby to Aunt Musgrave’s.” Laurence smiled: proud Lady Radcliff was once more dependent on the hospitality of long-suffering Madam Musgrave. “Our troop stopped by Chipping Campden on All Saints Day,” Ingram went on. “Tom wanted his lordship your father to supply some of his horses for the men, and funds for their equipment. His lordship admitted to me that he was not sleeping well, and had pain in his joints. I seized the chance to warn him about the damage that I have seen wrought to other great houses, knowing how he cherishes his beloved collection of art. We also talked more cheerfully of wedding plans. Anne and I are to marry on the seventeenth of December, with modest ceremony. Hard times do not warrant lavish celebrations, and his lordship has dug deep into his pockets to
finance Tom’s troop, or should I say, the Major’s. We pray you can come to the wedding. Aunt Musgrave is especially keen to embrace you.” Laurence smiled again, remembering her wise, affectionate face and bearlike hugs. “If you see Dr. Seward at the College, please greet him for me.” Below his signature, Ingram had penned an afterthought. “His lordship and her ladyship are very distressed, Beaumont, that you will not sever your ties with Mistress Savage. They asked me, as your friend, to urge that you do so. I told them how she helped to save your life when you were imprisoned in Oxford Castle. Nonetheless, I understand their feelings. We shall have occasion to discuss yours, God willing, since his lordship has invited me to stay at the house over Christmastide.”

How typical of Ingram to sympathise with both sides; yet the issue must be resolved. Laurence decided to ask Digby for a couple of days’ leave to go home, as soon as Price set out for London.

“Mr. Beaumont was predictably difficult,” Digby complained to his father, as they took a turn in the herb garden before dinner. “I do wonder why His Majesty insisted that we ask for his opinion. I also wonder about this secret business in which he helped the King. As Secretary of State, I should be privy to it. If only I could raise Falkland from the grave:
he
must have known about it, and, I am convinced, destroyed all record of it prior to his mad decision to ride into the fray at Newbury and get himself slaughtered.”

“My dear son, calm,” said Bristol, his breath fogging in the misty air. “It is a good habit to listen as much to advice one does not want to hear as to that which one does. Mr. Beaumont may be right that Mr. Price is still wet behind the ears, and that a more experienced agent should be in London to handle him.”

“Don’t speak to me of ears,” Digby said, cringing at the memory of Albright’s. “And who else
have
we in London?”

“Were Isabella there, she could supervise Price and the necessary imports for our plan. She possesses both experience and subtlety in
such matters. George, you must persuade her to wed Sir Montague. You can assure her that it would not trouble him if she and Beaumont remained lovers.”

“The old roué might derive pleasure from watching them together. Gossip always had it that he was something of a voyeur.”

“Work upon her, then.”

Digby began to smile. “I
am
working, through Mr. Cotterell. I wrote to him of her position and told him truthfully that Beaumont would hurt her, and that she would be foolish to spurn this opportunity for marriage and a comfortable future. Mr. Cotterell is particularly sensible to her feelings. And she will heed his advice, where she might believe mine prejudiced.”

“She owes her very survival to him and his late wife. They nursed her so kindly back to health, after …” Bristol stopped, and sighed.

“It might be easier to have Mr. Beaumont out of town, around the time that she is to return. I can then judge what progress Mr. Cotterell has made in his efforts.”

“Yes, it might. But where and on what pretext will you dispatch Beaumont?”

“I shall think of one,” said Digby.

Veech could see that John Pym was clinging to life by a thread. His skin had a chalky hue where it was not blotted with sores and broken blood vessels, his clothes sagged on his frame, and when he spoke, his voice was so faint that Veech and St. John had to lean in to catch his words. “Oliver,” he said to St. John, “show Clement what evidence of the King’s duplicity we have lately received.”