Tyballis opened her mouth in considerable surprise, and uttered, ‘Throckmorton?’
Some miles due east, Felicia Spiers glowed pink with pride and Ellen turned dizzying circles, dancing with the shadows from the huge flaming fire. Ralph Tame stood silently and respectfully to one side of the hearth. At the great table beyond the scatter of scorched and ruined Turkey rugs, Elizabeth Ingwood quietly watched. And in the wide chair at the head of the table, Jon Spiers snored gently, his head tipped back and his mouth slightly open. ‘Our little ones is sleeped upstairs,’ Ellen informed her landlord with exhausted excitement. ‘It’s good – mighty good, mister, having them rooms back. We’s home again at last.’
Mister Cobham looked down on the tousled curls. ‘Did conditions at the farm not suit you, child?’
‘Out on the scrounge didn’t get nuffin out there,’ Ellen admitted. ‘For folks didn’t have nuffin to give. On the farm there was lambkins and I had a special one. But then the farm lad slit its poor throat, right in front of me. It quivered and I seen the fright in its eyes. I wouldn’t play with no animals after that. Wouldn’t play with the farm lad neither.’
‘My sympathies,’ agreed Mister Cobham. ‘Though you have seen me kill chickens before.’
The child shook her head. ‘Hens is squawky things what peck each other sore. My little lambkin were gentle and never hurt no one.’
Felicia stepped in front of her daughter. ‘Mister Cobham, we are exceedingly glad to be back for many reasons. And to be told that payment for our food and board is not required, well, my dear Jon echoes my gratitude, I’m sure. And we are more than ready to help, sir, and especially since it’s our dear Tybbs in danger.’
Ralph said, ‘Whatever’s wanted, Mister Cobham, you tell us.’
Andrew stood with his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him, legs apart and his expression lost in shadow. He regarded his tenants for some moments, then he said, ‘I thank you all, and welcome you back to my home. My requirements are at present quite simple. Luke Parris may never have been a close friend to any of you in the past, but for reasons of my own, I owe him some consideration. He has been unwell. Left to his own devices he is in no longer able to feed himself, nor is his mental condition robust. Mistress Spiers, I ask you to take Luke as your particular responsibility, since he is no more than a child in many ways. A capricious child, however, and I advise no one here to impart their secrets, nor explain their business in his hearing. At present he is in bed in his usual attic chambers, and is particularly eager to accept Mistress Spier’s fine cooking and maternal attentions.’
Felicia looked somewhat disappointed. ‘Whatever you ask, Mister Cobham. Ellen can help me. But what of Tyballis?’
‘My main concern is her evident disappearance,’ Andrew continued, ‘so there will be other more urgent requests to come. Tyballis may be in some danger. I shall explain exactly what I want of you before I leave again tonight.’
‘You’re leaving?’ Elizabeth stood abruptly, and came over into the firelight. ‘Already? You only just got here.’
‘I’ve a purloined wherry tethered down at the quay, and that’s my way back into London before the gates open tomorrow morning. I won’t waste a night sleeping. There’s a great deal to be done.’
Elizabeth sniffed. ‘And no time just to have a cosy evening with your old friends? We lit the fire ready for you.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You’d expect me to leave you, my dear, under similar circumstances? Knowing you abducted by my enemies and perhaps with a knife to your throat? Aware, what is more, that your danger was my doing? Then, instead should I enjoy a drunken romp for a few hours, followed by a hearty supper perhaps, before a good night’s conscience-free sleep, while you suffered alone? Perhaps while you died?’
‘And Casper?’ frowned Elizabeth.
‘Already in my service.’ Andrew turned to Ralph. ‘I’ll take you with me,’ he said, ‘within the hour. But there are matters I need to explain first. So, my friends, listen while I tell you some things that very few people know.’
Chapter Sixty-Eight
Andrew heaved the wherry’s stubby prow into the shadows of the pier just beyond the Bridge, held fast to the upright pole and quickly climbed the steps to land. Immediately behind him Ralph took the oars, pushed off from the bank and rowed again out into the main swell, heading upriver towards the Ludgate. Without looking back, Andrew crossed the platform, striding from the river’s chill past the Old Swan Tavern and from there directly northwards into the damp cobbles of Ebgate Street.
He had not slept for two nights but he was not conscious of exhaustion, though a troubled weariness weighed against him and a grinding ache had begun to spread from his temples across the back of his eyes. He ignored this, silently following the moonless streets to Bishopsgate and the lights of Crosby’s Place.
At some considerable distance northwest, a small balding man was seated beneath a beech tree, his back to the bark and his one eye focused on a tall narrow house just across the fields. Wrapped tight in an old oiled cape, a sheep’s bladder of small beer clutched in his hand, the man stared, barely blinking, at those who left the house he watched, and at those who arrived. Yawning sometimes, he scratched his groin, picked his nose to pass the time, and waited.
Some hours later as the sun’s dawning bathed the cropped grass and the tree’s shadows dissipated into golden light, the man heard the soft squelch of footsteps in the mud, and turned, suspicious. At once he grinned, exposing two black teeth and a wide expanse of empty brown gums. He staggered up, stretching his stiff back and legs, and trotted over towards the slim approaching figure. The two men met in the sunlit dazzle, and talked softly together for some minutes. Finally the shorter man nodded, and set off south away from the fields and the house where he had been staring at for most of the night.
The newcomer, also well wrapped in a hooded cape, trudged over to the same tree the first man had recently left, shivered, stared around him for a moment, and then began to cross the fields towards the bent and narrow house.
It was during this change of guard that someone else carefully approached the house of interest, hurrying from the opposite direction through the village of St Giles and down to the back entrance where the old shed leaned its broken walls, sharing a hidden door. This man, fast and slight of build, looked around constantly as if frightened of being followed. Then, deciding he was alone and safe, he dodged into the first of the outbuildings and peeped through the cracks in the wattle-timbered walls across the Cock and Pie fields to the front. He saw the two men, one short, one taller, speaking quietly together. Then the hiding man slipped out again from the shed, still unseen as he edged open the back door into the narrow house, squeezed inside and soundlessly closed the door behind him. Now enclosed within the black chill of the unlit stairs, he hurried immediately up to the first floor.
The Duke of Gloucester and his newly arrived duchess had removed to Baynard’s Castle on the Thames, property of the duke’s mother. Here, although more heavily shadowed with incessant draughts that tickled the candle flames, the vast chambers offered comfortable space for meetings and the riverside frontage facilitated travel between Westminster and the Tower. Andrew reported on demand, and was admitted after half an hour.
The duke looked up and put down his quill. He nodded, and indicated the chair drawn up to the other side of the table. ‘Come in, Cobham,’ he said. ‘I have been expecting you.’