VROLOK (27 page)

“Richard Baines, if anyone, is an Atheist. He is. The council will not listen to him.”

“You are very calm about this.”

“They have been accusing me of heresy since I was seventeen.”

“Maybe you should be more discreet about what you say.”

“I say what I say; I am not going to hide the person that I am.”

“They are planning to arrest you.”

“They haven’t yet.”

“Your frivolous attitude will get you killed, Kit,” Isabella appealed to him

“Well…you can stop that.” Isabella looked at Kit inquisitively “You can make me immortal with a kiss,” Kit told her.

“I will never do that.”

“I will keep asking.”

“And I will keep saying no.”

“Then let’s not talk of it again. Come out with me tonight.”

“Why?”

“I am going out with a pack of tricksters and thieves and you will love them,”

Isabella smiled. “Maybe, but promise one thing.”

“Anything.”

“Be careful,” Isabella pleaded with a smile and turned to leave him.

“You know me…I am never careful,” Kit called out after Isabella.

Isabella went home and slept. She was tempted to meet Kit that night and she had made up her mind to do so when she awoke, if only to make sure he was safe from harm. After nightfall she went to Kit’s apartment to meet him, not knowing that Vlad was close by and had arranged Kit’s death for that evening. Vlad knew if Kit was arrested Isabella would save him and he had planned this evening with precision.

Isabella arrived at Kit’s apartment an hour after nightfall. The door was open and a trail of blood led her upstairs. Isabella became frightened—she feared the worst. She ran upstairs and broke open the lock of the door. Isabella found Thomas Kyd inside sitting alone in the dark. He was shivering beside the fire; he had been severely beaten. A blanket was wrapped around his shoulders. Isabella had never had any respect for him. She thought he acted like a whining, weak-willed child at times. She grabbed his chin with her hand so that his face was forced up to look at hers.

“What have you done to get yourself in such a state?” Isabella asked.

“What have I done? What have I done?” he asked again in disbelief. “Ask Kit why I have been tortured!”

“I am asking you!” Isabella said, her voice a warning. “Who did this to you? You’re of no importance to anyone. Where is Kit?”

“I don’t care about Kit anymore. My life is the only thing that is important to me now,” Thomas shouted back. “Thomas Walsingham arranged this,” he continued.

“Arranged what?”

“My torture. They arrested me a few days ago and have whipped, beaten, and burned my skin. Until I finally admitted that….”

“Until you admitted what?” Isabella said firmly.

“That Kit is a heretic and a traitor.”

“You did what!” Isabella grabbed Kyd and shook him.

“I would like to see what you would do under such circumstances.”

“I would not betray a friend,” Isabella reviled

“You know that is a lie. You do not strike me as the honourable type.” At this Isabella did strike him and he fell from his seat onto the floor.

“I may not have any honour but mark my words, if anything happens to Kit you will die in misery and poverty out in the streets, and that is no lie.” Isabella left and Thomas understood that his fate was assured.

She ran to the tavern where she knew Kit would be. When she got there everything was fine. Kit was laughing and enjoying the company of his friends. Isabella was relieved and went over to sit beside him.

“Where have you been? I have been waiting for you,” Kit greeted Isabella.

“Nowhere. I think you should go home. I have to tell you something.”

“Go home…no I wouldn’t think of it. I am having a grand time here. I will not leave. Sit down and rest awhile. Besides, Ingram here has promised to pay for the festivities. I have to witness that. Don’t worry, I will go home with you soon.”

Isabella leaned over and whispered in Kit’s ear, “They are going to arrest you tonight for heresy.”

“Nonsense, they are always going to arrest me, but they haven’t yet.”

“It’s true,” she said. Kit silenced Isabella by pressing his finger on her lips. This was something Nicolae used to do and it worked; she remained quiet.

“You know for an immortal you worry too much about death when you have no cause.”

Isabella looked around her. There was no sign of any danger. She started to calm down. The lights were bright and the tavern was noisy. She could not hear much beyond this noise. Still there seemed to be no apparent danger. She settled down and the evening drifted on without incident.

The group Isabella was sitting with had just finished eating. She was still watching the crowd and not paying much attention to the conversation of her companions. She was completely oblivious to who they were. Then she heard Kit shouting about something beside her.

“Kit, what is wrong with you?” Isabella asked.

“He is refusing to the pay the bill,” Kit answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” Isabella scolded.

“Of course it does. This is the only reason I came out with him, on the prerequisite that he would be paying. Isn’t that right Walsingham?”

“Walsingham. Thomas Walsingham?” Isabella enquired.

“The very same,” Kit answered. Isabella stood up with the attention of walking over to Walsingham but she did not reach him. She heard screams coming from behind her. Terrified to see what had happened, she slowly turned around only to see Kit lying on the floor, stabbed through the eye. He was dead.

Isabella ran from the tavern, overwhelmed and devastated by Kit’s death.

Vlad’s vision of events was slightly different. A few days before Kit died, Vlad was waiting outside his apartment. He watched until Kit left. A few minutes later another man came out of the rooms. Unlike Kit, who walked with his head held high, this man walked with his head down; he was bound for the nearest hostelry. Vlad followed him in. Thomas Kyd sat down in the corner, not paying attention to anyone. Vlad sat watching him. He was looking pitiful, a pathetic individual, Vlad thought.

Another man came in and sat beside him. Vlad recognised this man. He had seen him in the Queen’s court. He knew his name was Thomas Walsingham, who, like his cousin Francis, was one of the Queen’s chief advisors. Vlad wondered why such an important man would bother with Thomas Kyd. So he listened to the pair’s conversation.

“How goes it with you, Thomas?” Walsingham asked.

“Not well,” Kyd answered.

“Why, what has happened?”

“They refused to publish my play.”

“Why?”

“They said it was not good enough.”

“The next one will be good enough, do not lose heart,” Walsingham reassured tapping Kyd on the shoulder.

“No as long as I am associated with Kit Marlowe. I don’t think any of my plays will be good enough.”

“You are being foolish,”

“Am I? Every other week they threaten to arrest him. They are always talking about it at court, you know that.”

“They say a lot of things in court, and a lot of it has no real meaning. Everyone there has been accused of conspiring against the Queen.”

“Even you?” Vlad watched as a dark look crept over Walsingham’s face—he was remembering something.

“No, not me, never me,” Walsingham answered firmly.

“Maybe you should choose your friends more wisely then; your friendship with Kit will endanger you, too,” Kyd remarked.

“Be quiet or I will make sure you will regret those words.” Thomas Kyd drank his wine and left. Walsingham went to the front of the tavern to get himself another drink. He sat down and Vlad approached him.

“Can I join you?” Vlad asked.

“You can,” said Walsingham. “Have I seen you somewhere before?”

“Probably around court,” Vlad answered.

“Yes, that must be it.”

“Who was that you were talking to you?”

“A friend of mine, or so I thought.”

“We must keep our friends close in these ominous times,” Vlad said, and his voice adopted a hypnotic influence.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there are rumours, Thomas.”

“There have always been rumours about Kit.”

“These are not about Kit. They are about you.” The colour drained from Thomas Walsingham’s face as he was again reminded of a painful memory.

“About me?” Thomas said in disbelief.

“Yes.”

“That is absurd. Everyone knows I would never go against my Queen,” Walsingham said nervously. Vlad was surprised but pleased at how well this was working, but he still was curious as to know what this man was remembering. He looked into his thoughts. A dark memory was troubling Walsingham.

Vlad saw a dark passageway and a child he knew. Thomas Walsingham was chasing a toy that was rolling along the ground. He was chasing it further and further, deeper into the belly of the dungeons below the castle. The toy stopped rolling at the opening of a doorway into another dungeon that the child had never seen before. The child was now distracted from the toy by the noises that were coming from the corridor. He wandered slowly into the darkness of the narrow and damp passageway.

The boy walked down the lengthy dark hall until he saw a glimmer of light. He walked towards it. The noises that he had heard could now be recognised as screams. He walked into the open doorway and he saw his cousin taking a branding iron and whipping the man who was screaming with it. The iron seared his skin. His face was contorted in pain. His blood-curdling screams were unlike any sound the child had heard before. The tortured man looked at the child and held out his hand begging for mercy. He was squealing every time the iron came near him. The child was sickened by the smell of burning flesh. All he could say under his breath was to ask his cousin to stop hurting him. It was loud enough for Francis to be alerted to his presence and he walked over to his young cousin, picked him up and left with him in his arms.

“Why were you doing that Francis?” the child asked.

“The man is a suspected traitor.”

“Only a suspected traitor?”

“Yes—only a suspected traitor, I am actually starting to believe he may be innocent. Traitors are to be punished, even suspected ones. He should have chosen his friends more carefully.” The boy said nothing more. He had hidden away this memory, until today.

b

Vlad’s influence was making him remember this all too clearly. Thomas understood what it meant to be called a traitor; even a suspected traitor. He had forgotten and now he was frightened. Vlad’s plan was working and he resumed talking.

“You must prove that you are faithful.”

“How?”

“Prove you are not a traitor—turn your friend Kit into the government.”

“How? There has never been any proof.”

“I am sure you will think of something. That man who left?”

“You mean Thomas Kyd?”

“Use him.”

Walsingham went straight to the Privy Council and got a petition for the arrest of Thomas Kyd on suspicion of treason.

The soldiers arrived at Kit’s apartment when Thomas Kyd was there by himself. Thomas Walsingham had planned it that way. He wanted to torture a confession out of Thomas Kyd so that he had proof before arresting Kit.

On the third day after Kyd’s arrest he finally accused Kit of treason. This was longer than Walsingham thought he would last.

When Vlad heard of Kyd’s accusation, he paid a visit to the prison where Kyd was being tortured. He wanted to talk to both Kyd and Walsingham, one final time.

“He told us that Kit was a traitor,” Walsingham told Vlad.