‘No,’ said Evett in the kind of way that made it clear the answer was yes.
Pepys frowned, puzzled by his behaviour, then addressed Chaloner again. ‘My Lord Sandwich was very disappointed with the outcome, but the hoard was alleged to have been hidden by Barkstead, and the regicides were slippery fellows. I doubt it was ever buried, and anyone looking for it will be wasting his time. Ha! There is Lord Lauderdale. Excuse me, gentlemen.’
‘He knows!’ breathed Evett, watching Pepys scurry across the room to bow to an overweight, badly dressed man in blue silk, who did not look at all pleased to see him.
‘He does not. He just wanted to renew an acquaintance that might prove useful in the future. You are the Lord Chancellor’s aide, and he intended to make sure you remember him – until someone more important caught his attention.’
‘He contrived to be here because of the conclave,’ said Evett in disgust. ‘When they have pledged enough money for the coming year, the hospital’s benefactors dine in the Dolphin, thus providing an opportunity for characters like Pepys to come here and toady. You should open the window, by the way, or you will miss the Queen.’
Chaloner unlatched the shutter and peered out, Evett standing close behind him. ‘Three of your brothers are about to come in,’ he said conversationally. ‘Downing, Dalton and my neighbour North.’
‘Several of them are generous to worthy causes,’ acknowledged Evett. ‘Especially ones that win them the favour of the Queen. There is her carriage now – the black one. Wave to her, then!’
Chaloner saluted as the vehicle rattled past. A tiny white hand flashed as she waved back. ‘She smiled at me!’
‘That was a grimace. Can you imagine how tedious it must be, constantly hailing the masses? But we should get back to the Tower. I know most of these benefactors from Court, and some are very difficult to escape from once they start talking. Damn! Lauderdale is in our way. Good day, My Lord!’
Lauderdale was difficult to understand, since his tongue was too large for his mouth, but the gist of his growled diatribe was that there had better be something worth eating, or he would not be so generous with his donation next year, and that if there was any kind of music, he would leave. While Evett tried to stay out of spittle range, Downing took the opportunity to speak to Chaloner. He pulled the spy to one side as the benefactors began to stream past, heading for the private chamber above.
‘Lauderdale has a poor opinion of music,’ he whispered, making it clear he considered it a serious defect. His green coat seemed tighter than ever that day, as though he had recently been gorging himself. ‘I would recommend you play to him, since you are in need of employment and he is in greater need of education, but I think his ears are past redemption. Well? What did Thurloe say? Will you join us?’
‘He does not think it is a good idea.’
Downing sighed his annoyance. ‘He is like an old woman these days, afraid to do anything with his friends – not even when it might prove advantageous to him. Well, I suppose I am not surprised, although I think he is wrong. So, we shall have to trust you with our secrets, Heyden, and hope your affection for him will keep you in line. But why are you here, if not to join us? Looking for Dalton, in the hope that he will employ you as a translator?’
‘Looking for Barkstead’s tr–’ began Evett, who had finished with Lauderdale.
‘Barkstead’s head,’ interrupted Chaloner, wondering what was wrong with Evett. Was he trying to land him in trouble with the Lord Chancellor? ‘It is still displayed outside the Tower.’
Downing regarded him in alarm. ‘Do not bring that subject up here! It still rankles with some people, although I cannot imagine why. He was a regicide, for God’s sake, and deserved what he got.’
‘He was a brother, too,’ said Evett reproachfully. ‘He was before my time, but still a brother.’
‘You have been discussing our fraternity together?’ said Downing uneasily. ‘I hope you have been discreet – both of you. It will not take much to draw Kelyng’s attention in the wrong direction.’
Evett declined to be diverted. ‘Why did you betray Barkstead, Sir George? It is one thing to catch a fugitive, but you were members of the same secret organisation – one that professes loyalty to its fellows.’
Downing’s expression was resigned, and he rubbed his eyes tiredly. ‘I have explained a hundred times: I had no choice. I was in Holland and he was in Holland. How would it have looked – me in the same city, rubbing shoulders with him, as though we were friends? It would have seen me dismissed and disgraced. Besides, there was the Brotherhood to protect.’
‘I do not see how arresting him helped us,’ said Evett doubtfully.
‘That is because you joined later, when it was safe,’ replied Downing frostily. ‘If it had emerged that Barkstead – who was always unrepentant about the old king’s death – was one of our members, we would all have hanged. It is as simple as that, and I did the right thing. But even so, you cannot imagine how painful it is to see his severed head outside the Tower every day.’
‘And what about the Brotherhood’s other regicides?’ asked Chaloner. ‘You dealt with Barkstead, but that still left Hewson, Ingoldsby and Livesay.’
‘They signed documents of apology,’ replied Downing. ‘Besides, Ingoldsby is the King’s man now, and the others are dead. Ask North. North, tell Heyden here that Livesay is dead.’
North closed his eyes and breathed a prayer, clasping his Bible as he did so. Although he had dressed well for the conclave, he was still drab in his black suit and plain white collar. ‘I fear so,’ he said sadly. ‘Although Dalton thinks otherwise.’
Dalton was not well. His face was pale and sweaty, and he smelled of wine. ‘Livesay is not dead. He is in hiding, and who can blame him?’
‘He is not hiding,’ said North gently. ‘I spoke to eyewitnesses. Gunpowder was stored in the forward hold of Livesay’s ship and the vessel exploded. There were no survivors.’
Chaloner had learned a lot about explosions during the wars, and knew their outcomes were unpredictable. The ship may well have sunk, and there would no doubt have been a large number of fatalities. But some of the bodies would have been impossible to identify, and there was always the chance that Livesay had used the situation to vanish. Such an opportunity would have been a godsend to a man in his position, and it was not impossible that he had ignited the gunpowder himself. Chaloner was inclined to side with Dalton: an explosion was not clear evidence that Livesay was dead.
‘I like Dalton,’ said Evett, when he and Chaloner had elbowed their way outside. ‘If he offers you work, you should take it. You do not know how this business with Barkstead’s gold will end, and even if you do find it, life at White Hall is precarious. Look at what happened to my poor cousin Simon.’
Chaloner spent the next hour examining all the Tower cellars that even vaguely fitted the description given by Mother Pinchon, although none were as promising as the first – there were grey arches galore, but none also had a distinctive red brick. When he had finished, he was faced with three possibilities: first, Pinchon’s memory was faulty; second, Barkstead had changed his mind about where he had left his treasure; and third, someone had been there before them.
Evett considered the last option. ‘Who?’
‘Someone capable of sending a team of diggers inside the castle with the authority to keep them quiet about what they discovered.’
‘Robinson?’ asked Evett. ‘He has been Lieutenant of the Tower most of the time since Barkstead was ousted. You think he spotted evidence that something was buried, and investigated by himself? Perhaps he thinks it is his to keep, since he is in charge of the castle.’