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‘There,’ said Downing, when Robert Leybourn had completed his search. ‘What did I tell you? But we should part company, before we give each other nightmares. I wish you good day, gentlemen. Robinson and I apologise for bringing you to hear such sorry news.’ He ushered his colleagues out until he was the only one left, then waited several moments before speaking. ‘Heyden? I know you are in here. I arrived early for this meeting, and I saw you go up the stairs. Since you did not come down again, you must still be here.’

Chaloner made no reply.

Downing sighed. ‘You always were slippery – Thurloe chose well when he appointed you to look after Britain’s interests abroad. We need to talk, so come out, will you? You heard Dalton: it was I who insisted we meet in this chamber. I did so because I wanted you to hear what was said. I would not have done that if I intended to harm you, would I? You have nothing to fear from me.’

Chaloner did not move.

‘Think!’ said Downing, exasperated. ‘Who persuaded Robert Leybourn that the mouse droppings next to your pastry were a sign that no one had been in that booth for hours, even though I know it is a ruse you have used before? I suppose they were on the floor and you shoved them on the table, just as you did in Delft, when you were almost caught eavesdropping on the French ambassador.’

When Chaloner still did not appear, Downing grew angry.

‘I have just taken a great personal risk, so do not make me use my sword. Come on, Heyden. Out!’

Chaloner heard the scrape of metal on leather as Downing drew his sword, followed by hollow tapping sounds as the diplomat began to jab beneath tables. He crawled away from the bench in his booth, aware that concealing himself under it had been an act of desperation, and one that would have seen him unable to defend himself had his ploy with the droppings not worked. Using elbows and knees, he slithered the entire length of the curtained alcoves, and was brushing himself down when Downing glanced up from his prodding. A dagger was cradled in the palm of Chaloner’s hand, and Downing did not know it, but he would be dead the moment he made a hostile move.

‘God’s blood!’ Downing swore, jumping in alarm at his sudden appearance. ‘How did you manage that?’

Chaloner shrugged. ‘I have some experience of escaping from tight corners, as you know.’

Downing sheathed his sword and sat at the table, indicating Chaloner was to join him. Chaloner stayed where he was, and the diplomat leaned back in the chair and rubbed his eyes.

‘I do not blame you for being cautious, after what you have just heard. You probably do not know what to think: Thurloe belongs to a Brotherhood, some members of which are murdered or missing.’

‘So do you, Sir George.’

‘Yes, but I am in the process of extricating myself.’

‘So is Thurloe, if he declines to attend meetings.’ His unspoken addendum was that Thurloe had removed himself a good deal further than had Downing, who was still active.

Downing smiled wryly. ‘If you were half as loyal to me as you are to him, you and I would have made a formidable team. However, I am not so naïve as to imagine our five years together resulted in any liking for me. I employed you as a favour to Thurloe, but you have never been anything but his man.’

‘It was not a favour: you were paid. And, after Cromwell died, you began to pass the information I collected not only to Thurloe, but to his enemies as well.’

Downing shrugged. ‘Those were uncertain times, and no one can blame me for hedging my bets. But we are not here to discuss me. I assume Thurloe told you about our Brotherhood?’

‘What he and I discuss is none of your affair, Sir George.’

Downing regarded him silently for a while. ‘I could reveal your past spying activities to men who would see you executed, Heyden. But I am not a vindictive man, whatever you might think. I suspect Thurloe has mentioned our organisation to you, but I would like to give you my version, too, so you have a balanced view.’

‘Why?’

‘Self-preservation. You intend to work for Dalton, and it is only a matter of time before a spy of your calibre learns the secret of the Brotherhood from him – he is panicky, unreliable and indiscreet. Kelyng is watching us closely, and I do not want you investigating Dalton’s frightened behaviour and inadvertently exposing the rest of us. I told Thurloe he should stop you from going to Dalton, but he said that would only arouse your suspicions. However, I will not sit back while you put me in danger.’

‘Then tell me what you think I should know.’

Downing poured himself some coffee; it was cold and he winced as he swallowed it. ‘The Brotherhood was established after the execution of the old king, thirteen years ago. Its remit was to limit the actions of fanatics on both sides – Parliamentarians and Royalists. Its founders were men of vision, who saw that extremes would bring nothing but damage and long-term hatred.’

Chaloner did not believe him. ‘Barkstead was a member, and you do not get much more extreme than signing a monarch’s death warrant. Ingoldsby also put his name to the deed – and while the King may believe that Cromwell seized his hand and wrote his name, he is the only man who does.’

Downing laughed. ‘The notion of a fellow like him standing meekly while Cousin Cromwell makes his signature is hilarious. However, the King thinks Ingoldsby is telling the truth, so I can only doff my hat in admiration for his gall. If I had half his talent, I would be King of England myself.’

Reluctantly, Chaloner returned the smile. ‘It was an impressive feat of perfidy.’

‘It saved his life, though. However, he and Barkstead saw first-hand the chaos that arises from fanaticism, and they joined the Brotherhood in the hope of securing more moderate solutions to political problems in the future. They were not the only regicides to enroclass="underline" John Hewson, whose charred corpse was found yesterday, was one, and so is Sir Michael Livesay – the member who has not been seen for so long.’

Chaloner was sceptical. ‘Hewson and Livesay have been living in London? But any regicide with even a remote sense of his own safety would have escaped abroad years ago. They would be executed if they were caught here.’

‘Hewson went to the United Provinces for a while, but was homesick, so came back to live the quiet life of a shoemaker – which was his trade before he rose to power under the Commonwealth. Livesay also returned, although he has not been seen for some time now, and I fear North may be right about his death. With men like Kelyng around, no one is safe.’

‘You think Kelyng killed Livesay?’ Chaloner realised he knew something Downing probably did not: that Hewson had died in Kelyng’s garden.

‘It is possible. Kelyng knows the Brotherhood exists, and his hatred of us ranges along two fronts: our desire for moderation, and the fact that our membership includes regicides – men he has vowed to destroy. He is a zealot, and exactly the kind of fellow we oppose.’

Chaloner wondered whether Downing was in his right wits. ‘Your association with this group is dangerous. Can you not see what will happen, if Kelyng learns you keep company with regicides?’

‘But he will not – not unless you tell him. Barkstead and Hewson are dead; Ingoldsby will say nothing, because he is in the same pickle as me; and Livesay is God knows where. The remaining brothers no more want the connection known than I do, so will maintain a discreet silence.’

‘Livesay’s disappearance must be worrying. He could be sitting in the Tower as we speak, spilling his secrets to anyone who will listen.’

Downing shook his head. ‘He would never betray the Brotherhood.’