That was certainly true, thought Chaloner ruefully, thinking about his empty larder. ‘You said you are no longer active, yet it seems Downing still consults you about its affairs.’
Thurloe looked hard at him. ‘Because he hopes to entice me back. But I have not attended a meeting in three years – Kelyng watches my every move, and I know exactly what he would make of me sitting in a private chamber with Downing, Ingoldsby and the others. He would assume we were plotting, and would order our arrests without bothering to ask what we discuss. It is safer for everyone if I keep my distance. But what have you learned about Clarke’s death? Perhaps he and the other five were murdered by the same hand.’
‘Evett showed me the place where he was killed. I have scant evidence, but I do not think he was dispatched by a professional assassin. I think he was lured into a hallway, perhaps with the promise of information, and then stabbed. Evett thinks Buckingham did it.’
‘Buckingham might hire someone to kill, but I doubt he would bloody his own hands. I appreciate his position: I have ordered the occasional expedient death myself, but I could never slip my own knife between a man’s ribs.’
Chaloner nodded, not sure what to say to such a confidence, and an uncomfortable silence fell until Thurloe spoke again.
‘Where did you go today?’
Chaloner recalled his vow to say nothing about Barkstead’s gold. He considered inventing a tale that would place him well away from the hunt for the treasure, but several members of the Brotherhood had seen him near the castle, and Robinson had even discussed the matter with him. He decided to stay as close to the truth as possible.
‘I went with Evett to the Tower. He was happy to accept my help with Clarke’s murder – I do not think he has much stomach for violent death, despite being a soldier.’
‘Clarendon told me he has never seen a gun fired in anger. He has great faith in the fellow, so he must have some wits, although he has always seemed rather stupid to me.’
‘You know him well?’ asked Chaloner, recalling that the last time they had discussed Evett, Thurloe had been wary about admitting an acquaintance with him.
‘Well enough to know I would not trust him near my wife. He has two of his own already, and no lady is safe from his amours. I would watch Metje, if I were you, Tom. She is a pretty lady.’
‘They will never meet. I do not introduce friends to working colleagues.’
‘Very wise,’ said Thurloe. ‘So, tell me what you did at the Tower today.’
‘A lion had escaped, and Evett and I ended up inside the Traitors’ Gate with it.’
‘Not the mad one?’ asked Thurloe, shocked. ‘They should shoot the poor thing before it kills someone else. Of course, the problem lies with the King: he does not want a royal menagerie with no lion, but they are expensive and the Court is short of money. What else did you do?’
‘Then I went by river to White Hall, where–’
‘No prevarication, Thomas, I beg you,’ commanded Thurloe sharply. ‘Do not forget who I am and what I once did for a living – or the fact that I know you well enough to see when you are lying. I ask you again: what did you do at the Tower?’
Thurloe’s blue eyes bored into him, and Chaloner saw it was time to make his choice. He had always known he could not manage two powerful men who demanded his complete loyalty.
‘I cannot say, sir.’
Thurloe regarded him expressionlessly. ‘Why not?’
‘Because I gave Clarendon my word.’
‘What about your word to me?’
‘I will keep that, too. I would never reveal details of the past – you should know that.’
Thurloe continued to stare. ‘Are you sure you are making the right decision today?’
‘Not really. However, you told me to do my best for Clarendon – and I made him a promise and I intend to keep it.’
‘But you must have broken confidences when you were working abroad. There is no such thing as an honest spy – he would not be able to function!’
‘Of course, but that was in an enemy state. And we are not talking about honesty here, but about fidelity.’
Thurloe stared into the fire, and it was some time before he spoke again. ‘I own a manor in Essex – one I managed to keep from the Royalists when they confiscated the rest of my property. It is a good place, with fertile soil, streams and woods. You and Metje could live there. You could have children, and let them grow up safely and happily, as you did. What do you say?’
‘No,’ said Chaloner, acutely uncomfortable. He had been offered bribes in the past, but there was something very sordid in what Thurloe was doing.
‘Clarendon will probably cast you aside in a week, and you will be reduced to translating letters for Dalton. But only until Britain breaks with Holland, when you will be lucky not to be hanged as a spy for your knowledge of Dutch. It is not much of a future. Is there anything I can offer you, to make you change your mind?’
Chaloner shook his head. ‘No, sir.’
‘Then we have no more to say to each other. Serve your new master well, Thomas.’
Chaloner stood, a deep sadness washing over him. He had not expected his relationship with Thurloe to end in bribes and corruption, and he was sorry for it. ‘Goodnight, sir.’
Chaloner was opening the door when Thurloe called out to him. ‘Come back, Tom. You have passed the test – not that I had doubts, but the last three years have made me more suspicious than I once was.’
Chaloner turned to face him. ‘Test?’
‘Of your integrity. It is difficult to know whom to trust these days, and my friends urged me to make sure of you before I take you further into my confidence. Your uncle would have floundered, but I always knew you were the better man. If you decline to betray someone who has been your patron for three days, then our ten years makes you a true friend. Come and sit, please.’
‘I am tired,’ said Chaloner coolly. ‘And Metje is waiting.’
‘She will not arrive until at least ten o’clock,’ said Thurloe, standing to close the door. ‘Unless she stays away altogether, as she did last night.’
Chaloner gaped in disbelief. ‘You sent someone to watch me?’
‘Actually, I did it myself. I keep a chamber in the Golden Lion, and I have not entirely forgotten the skills I once taught you.’
Chaloner reached for the door again. ‘Goodnight.’
Thurloe’s grip on his wrist was surprisingly firm for a man who professed to be delicate. Chaloner could have broken it – and the wrist, too, had he wanted – but although he was angry, his temper had seldom led him to violence.
‘I know what you were doing at the Tower,’ said Thurloe softly. ‘I attended a service in Westminster Abbey this evening, and I met Robinson there. He said you had been looking for mushrooms, but that you, Evett and he discussed matters that had nothing to do with fungus. These included salt beef, a buried seven thousand pounds, and plots against the King.’
‘We talked about silver spoons and Bennet’s pursuit of Fanny, too.’
Thurloe continued as if he had not spoken. ‘And I already know from the loose-tongued Pepys that there were recent excavations for a vast sum of gold, said to have been buried by Barkstead. Since the hunt was unsuccessful, and Clarendon is desperate for funds, I assume he has ordered you to look into the matter. I also suspect he is keeping his new investigation a secret, or Pepys would have been involved – and he is not, because he spent his day fawning over Lord Lauderdale in the Dolphin.’
Chaloner said nothing, and Thurloe released his hand.
‘I may be able to help you, but not if you scowl at me. Stop it. It is making me nervous.’