“And he became a very angry man, intent on revenge. When he heard that the king himself was coming to England in secret for final talks with me, he could contain himself no longer. He went down to Deal that same February in 1660, when the king was due to arrive, and lay in wait. I do not know how long he was there, but one morning after the talks had been going on, the king went for a walk in the gardens of the house we were using; Sir James came out at him, and tried to kill him with his sword.”
I knew nothing of any of these talks, and certainly nothing of any assassination attempt, so well had the matter been hidden by all concerned, and I was astonished both to learn of it and that Thurloe was telling me now.
“Why did it not succeed?”
“It very nearly did. The king received a cut in the arm, which shocked him mightily, and would certainly have died had not another hurled himself in front of him and taken the final, fatal blow in his own heart.”
“A brave and good man,” I said.
“Perhaps. Certainly a most unusual one, for it was Ned Blundy who sacrificed himself in this fashion, and died for a man he detested, and permitted the restoration of that monarchy he had spent his life opposing.”
I stared at him blankly at this extraordinary tale. Thurloe smiled when he saw my incomprehension, and shrugged.
“An honorable man, who believed injustice and saw none in murder, perhaps. I am certain Sir James had not consulted him in any way over what he intended. I can give no greater explanation to you of his motives and think none is probably needed—Blundy was a good soldier and loyal comrade, but I never once heard of him killing unnecessarily or acting with any cruelty to his enemies. I am sure he was happy to save Prestcott’s life, but not to assist Prestcott in killing another, even if it was a king.”
“And Sir James? Why did you not kill him? It seems to be your preferred solution in such cases.”
“He was not an easy man to kill. The meeting took place with the very minimum of people, and almost no guards sc pursuit was impossible—we relied on secrecy rather than force for safety. So Sir James escaped with few difficulties after the attack and daily we expected to hear that he had put his knowledge into circulation. On both sides we hunted furiously but to no avail. We could not say what he had done, as that would have involved revealing the depths of our talks, and so our only hope was to discredit him in advance so that if he did speak out, no one would believe him. Samuel did his usual competent job forging letters, and there were enough people amongst the king’s men who could be bribed to accept the situation without too much enquiry. Prestcott fled abroad, and died. It is ironic; he was the worst of traitors to his king, but was entirely innocent of the crimes of which he was accused.”
“Your problem at least was at an end.”
“No. It was not. He would not have acted in such a desperate way on Ned Blundy’s word alone. He insisted on seeing evidence, and Ned provided it.”
“What sort of evidence?”
“Letters, memoranda, dockets, dates of meetings and the names of people at them. A great deal of material.”
“And he did not use it?”
Thurloe smiled sadly. “Indeed not. I was forced to conelude that he did not have it; that Ned Blundy had kept it together with the key to the ciphers which hid their meanings.”
“And this was the man Samuel mentioned?”
“Yes. Shortly before his death, Blundy visited his family for the last time. It was reasonable to conclude he must have left it with them; on such a matter he could rely on no one else, not even the oldest comrade in arms. I had their house searched on several occasions, but discovered nothing. But I am certain that either the girl or her mother knew where it was, and that they were the only ones to know. Blundy was too sensible to trust others with such a secret.”
“And they are dead. They can’t tell you where it is now.”
“Precisely. Nor can they tell Jack Prestcott.” Thurloe smiled. “Which is the greatest relief of all. Because if he had that material, then he could have asked for an earldom and half a county, and the king would have given it to him. And Clarendon would have fallen without a murmur.”
“And this is what you told Prestcott I would give him?”
“I said merely you would give him information. Which you can now do, since I have passed it on to you.”
“You know already what Prestcott’s information is?”
“No. But I must be strictly honest and say that I can guess what it is.”
“And you decided not to tell me, so I would have that girl killed.”
“That is correct. I would have preferred to have those documents of Blundy’s so I could destroy them. But as that seemed unlikely to come about, it was best no one else should have them either. They would damage the standing and safety of too many people, including myself.”
“You had me commit murder for your own ends,” I said flatly, appalled by the man’s ruthlessness.
“I told you power is not for the squeamish, doctor,” he said quietly. “And what have you lost? You want your revenge on Cola and his patrons, and Prestcott will let you have it.”
Then he signaled for Prestcott to be brought, and the youth came in, preening himself in satisfaction at his own skill. At least I was sure that would not last long. I had agreed to spare him from trial, but I knew the knowledge he would have from my lips would be a greater punishment. Nor was I in a mood to spare him anything.
He began with lengthy and hypocritical assertions of his great gratitude to me for my kindness and mercy; these I cut short brusquely. I knew what I had done, and I wanted no congratulations. It was necessary, but my hatred and contempt for the man who had forced me to it knew few bounds.
Thurloe, I believe, saw my impatience and anger, and intervened before I became too outraged.
“The question is, Mr. Prestcott, who has guided you to your conclusions? Who gave you the hints and suggestions which have led you to your conviction about Mordaunt’s guilt? You have told me much about your enquiries, but you have not told all, and I do not like to be deceived.”
He flushed at the accusation, and attempted to pretend he was not frightened of the threat implicit in Thurloe’s quiet, gentle voice. Thurloe, who could be more terrifying with less effort than any man I knew, sat out the bluster.
“I say again, you have not told something. By your own account, you had never heard of Sir Samuel Morland, yet found out much about him and his interests quite easily. You had no introduction to Lord Bedford’s steward, yet were received by him and found him free with all manner of information. How did you know to do this? Why would such a man have talked to you? This was the critical moment in your quest, was it not? Before that all was dark and obscure, after it everything was clear and lucid. Someone told you Mordaunt was a traitor, someone told you of his connection to Samuel Morland, and encouraged you in your quest. Before then, all was suspicion and half-formed idea.”
Prestcott still refused to answer, but hung his head like a schoolboy caught cheating in his work.
“I hope you are not going to tell us you made it all up. Dr. Wallis here has taken substantial risks on your behalf, and has entered into a bargain with you. That contract will be null and void unless you fulfill your side of it.”
Eventually he raised his head and stared at Thurloe, a strange and (I would have said) almost maniacal smile on his face. “I had it from a friend.”
“A friend. How kind of him. Would you care to share the name of this friend?”
I felt myself leaning forward in anticipation of his reply, for I was sure his next words would answer the question for which I had risked so much.