‘And me,’ muttered Elizabeth.
‘It is probable the meeting ended with Lord Hastings’ arrest. That was the Protector’s intention. So, it is not the Duke of Gloucester who lies defeated, leaving me without support. It is Hastings who is finished, Rotherham and Morton in custody, Marrott on the run and the Woodvilles scattered. The men outside cannot yet know this, nor yet realise that the reinforcements they hope for will never come.’
‘Tell them, then,’ said Tyballis, bouncing up and snatching at her sword. ‘Go and shout out of the window. Tell them it’s useless and they must surrender. If it’s that vile creature Hetchcomb out there, I’d like to kill him myself.’
Andrew grinned. ‘Your new-found success at assassination appears to have gone to your head, my love. But never fear, I’m sure one of us will finish him off, unless he runs first. But telling him the truth would serve no purpose. He would simply not believe me.’
Harry, still gripping the arrow, said, ‘I’ll sneak out, then. Take a message. Find the duke. Call the constable. Bring back guards.’
‘Horrid little spit-boy,’ objected Ellen. ‘Them men’d spit you on that silly arrow.’
‘Wot don’t sound like a bad idea to me,’ interrupted Casper.
Felicia had long finished feeding Gyles, who once again slept in her arms. She said, ‘Well, we need help from somewhere. Does the boy know where to go?’
Andrew looked down at the boy and shook his head. ‘No, Harry, I’ll not risk your life. You’re too valuable as a witness to the conspiracy, should further proof be needed.’
The boy sniggered. ‘Valuable as a witness. Not fer meself, then?’
‘I’ll go,’ said Ralph, striding forwards. ‘I’ve more chance of defending myself if caught, and more chance of convincing the duke’s men, too.’
Elizabeth stood beside him. ‘No – me! The buggers dare catch me? Well, I’m just a whore passing by, and will offer a quick kiss on my way out.’
Casper said, ‘Hold off, hold off. It’s me the best street fighter in London, and best at slipping the constables, too. So, I’m the best bugger to send.’
Andrew turned abruptly to Luke. ‘Well, child, what about you? With all this courageous self-sacrifice from the others, you offer nothing? Yet you well understand the meaning of treachery, and you know exactly where to find the sheriff.’
‘That – that’s mean, Drew.’ Luke looked at his brother with tearful resentment. ‘You know I wouldn’t dare. It’s not fair to say that.’
‘You then, my friend?’ Abruptly Andrew turned to Jon, his smile suddenly cold and his eyes black and expressionless. ‘Would you undertake to risk and save us all?’ he asked. ‘You could leave here, no questions asked – and there would be no knowing what became of you.’
Jon stood in the shadows, his arm around Felicia. He did not move at first, but blushed a little. He said, ‘I’m not sure what you’re implying, Mister Cobham. No one can accuse me of cowardice, I’m sure, and I’ve helped you before in this espionage business, as I hope you remember. I must protect my wife and children.’ Then, removing his arm from Felicia’s shoulders, he took a step forwards. ‘But of course,’ he decided, ‘if I can serve you best by fetching a constable, well, I am more than willing, sir. I can slip out by the kitchen door. I’m not afraid.’
Felicia squeaked and clung tighter to her husband’s arm, but Andrew’s smile widened, and his black eyes lit with sudden amusement. ‘How astute of you, Mister Spiers,’ he said. ‘But I’m sending nobody. I have a far better idea.’
Chapter Seventy-Five
Andrew led his party of assorted lodgers to the great staircase and began, one by one, to usher them up. They carried no light and he warned them to silence, but silence was difficult when the balustrade groaned, swinging on its wobbling banisters, and the broken treads squeaked with each tentative step. Everyone clutched armfuls of what they had been told to bring. Knife blades rang, metal on metal. The cauldron from the kitchen clanked, and water splashed. Ellen felt cobwebs brush against her face, dropped the stones she clutched, and gasped, apologetic. But no violent intrusion interrupted them and it seemed no one from outside had heard. They gathered in Ralph’s chamber, which he had once shared with Nat but now in comfort with Elizabeth. The window, the largest in all the bedchambers, opened freely with shutters unbroken.
Each deposited their burden as Ralph bent to light the fire. Andrew and Casper hung the great cauldron of water there, shuddering on its chains. Water slopped with a hiss, but the flames blazed anew. Elizabeth opened the shutters just sufficient to peep out, yet hiding the flare of light from the hearth behind her. ‘I can see two ugly bastards sitting under the big beech tree. One’s got his bow across his knees. Reckon the other’s asleep.’
Tyballis was at her shoulder. ‘I can see another. Down there, look, close to the house. I think it’s Hetchcomb.’ Andrew came across to her, keeping his back to the shutters. She whispered to him, ‘That vile man thinks he’ll take us over like he did last time. But this time you’re here. He’s going to get a shock.’
‘Perhaps,’ Andrew said softly, ‘but remember, my love, this is not our last chance. If this fails, we can still wait out the night. But if we try this plan at all, it must be soon, before the light fails.’
‘Not long to twilight,’ Ralph nodded.
Felicia had put Gyles to bed in her own chamber. She crept back quietly and went to stoke up the fire. Jon sat by the hearth, his chin in his hands. Luke was sitting on the bed. He stared at the cauldron, muttering, ‘Boiling and hissing. The devil’s wicked work.’
‘This water’s near hot already,’ Casper squinted one-eyed into the steam.
‘As soon as it boils, bring it here to the window,’ Andrew ordered.
Ellen was piling her stones while Harry explored, collecting anything heavy enough to serve as a missile. ‘That’s my chamber pot,’ said Ralph. ‘Put it back.’
‘We survive this, you can crap outside under a bush like every other bastard in London,’ objected Casper, still gripping his axe.
Andrew and Ralph held their swords unsheathed, the others wielded knives. Luke was using his to clean his fingernails. Felicia stared at her blade with dislike. ‘You’ve carved meat with it before now,’ Tyballis told her.
Felicia frowned. ‘Not off a man.’
‘Hush,’ Andrew put a finger to his lips. ‘They are moving.’
Down amongst the garden’s shadowy greens, four men had gathered. Three carried bows. All seemed furtive, glancing to the house and then to the long path leading back towards the main road. Their captain quickly joined their muster, his hands to their shoulders. He kept his voice low. From above it was impossible to hear what he said, but each of his men nodded in response.
‘It is Hetchcomb,’ whispered Tyballis.
‘Mister Cobham, they’re planning something,’ Ralph whispered. ‘If they dare come closer up to the house, well, now we’re ready for them.’
They came. Creeping under cover of bush and tree, they followed Hetchcomb. Abruptly he pointed towards the double doors and at once two of his men swerved, heading for the hall’s main entrance. Hetchcomb and the other two, keeping tightly together, approached the central window. One of the archers raised his bow and slotted an arrow to the nock.