I nodded, dumb, for I recognised the instrument he brandished. It was an ancient breast ripper, a tool used by the inquisitor in days gone by, to shred a woman’s breasts.
‘Do you understand now, gentlemen, how serious is your mission?’ he asked, lowering the device.
‘There is no need …’ Dowling said, weak.
I looked at the donkey and imagined Dowling and I placing Arlington upon its blade.
‘I see what you are thinking, Lytle,’ Arlington leered. ‘I would think the same if I were in your shoes. But if I am found dead, then you will be held culpable. You and your families will be punished.’
He tossed the cruel instrument into the corner. He would never use it himself. He would send apprentices to commit the deed with their own blunt devices. It was a common enough occurrence and would ensure the deed could never be traced to him.
‘Did Josselin tell you he worked with Clarendon?’ Arlington asked matter-of-factly.
We both nodded quickly.
Arlington rubbed his nose. ‘I cannot think why he would return were it not to seek help from the good Earl. I must know the moment he attempts to make contact, for it would be convenient to be able to arrest him in the presence of the Earl. In the Earl’s private closet if necessary.’ He clicked his fingers. ‘But the timing must be perfect. If I send men too early he will never arrive, and Clarendon will be most offended. If I send men too late, then Josselin will be gone.’ He
turned to point at both of us, one with each hand. ‘From tonight you will stand watch at Clarendon’s residence on Piccadilly. Watch where he goes and follow. Josselin may attempt to contact him. If you see Josselin, then one of you will inform me personally. Is that clear?’
‘Aye,’ we replied in unison.
My heart ached, and any suspicion I still harboured that this devil was a man, was assuaged. ‘What about the meeting?’
‘Tomorrow,’ Arlington spat. He blew out his cheeks and took a deep breath. ‘It has been an entertaining evening,’ he proclaimed, taking up a position next to one of the narrow windows, there to watch the red sun dying. ‘For which I doth sincerely thank you. Now be gone.’
I couldn’t believe we were free to go. Time to see Jane.
Chapter Twenty-Five
There will therefore be expected the clearest of our endeavours to satisfie the Curious in their more than moderate expectancies.
I knocked loudly before stepping back to the middle of the street. When she opened the door I spotted the flash of delight upon her face before she hid it behind a scowl.
‘I’m back,’ I said.
‘So you are.’ She looked up and down Bread Street. ‘Why are you standing over there?’
‘I’ve come from Colchester,’ I whispered hoarse, so none else might hear.
Her belly was definitely rounder than I remembered, but I had not the expertise to tell if it was sign of a child, else the consequence of eating too much pudding. She always ate more when I was away. She said my presence affected her appetite. The smell of incense drifted out from inside the house.
She scanned my filthy clothes from foot to head with sharp green eyes. ‘You’ve been to Essex and now you’re returned?’ she asked, eyes narrowed. ‘What be that black mark?’ she pointed at my forehead.
‘A bruise,’ I replied.
‘A big bruise,’ she said, suspicious. ‘And what is that in your pocket? A pipe?’
I dug out the leaves and held them up in the air. ‘To protect me from plague.’
She leant forward, squinting. ‘Where did you get them?’
‘Culpepper gave them to me. The apothecary.’
She peered. ‘You smoked that in your pipe?’
I nodded.
‘Looks like seer sage to me.’ She stood straight, arms folded. ‘Have you been seeing things?’
‘What sort of things?’
She watched me close. ‘You have, haven’t you? Bright lights? Shimmering shapes?’
‘Perhaps,’ I said, slowly. I looked down at the innocent looking pile of dry foliage in my palm.
She smiled, and I saw the end of her tongue. ‘You said you knew about plants.’
Enough. I tucked the leaves back into my pocket. ‘I came to see how you are.’ She opened her mouth to say something, but I dared to interrupt. ‘Are you with child?’
Her arms fell to her sides, all thought of plague forgot. ‘You noticed that yourself?’
‘Aye,’ I replied. ‘
Is it a child?’
‘Yes,’ she replied, eyes wet.
A tennis ball appeared from nowhere and stuck in my throat. I
wanted to take her in my arms, but dared not approach closer. ‘I am glad,’ I said, fighting back the tears.
‘ Glad? ’ she exclaimed, lines furrowing her brow. ‘What are you glad about? You have no job and spend every day in the Mermaid.’
‘I have decided to become an apothecary,’ I replied. ‘That’s why I’ve been seeing Culpepper. He’s going to sell me his shop. I will be a good father.’
She gaped in most sarcastic fashion, ducking her head and staring from beneath her brow. ‘You will share with him your worldly wisdom, no doubt,’ she blustered, trying to hide the wetness of her cheeks. ‘Teach him a trade and set a fine example of outstanding moral behaviour.’
‘It might be a girl,’ I muttered.
‘Boy or girl.’ She wiped her face and lifted her chin. ‘Do you plan to marry me?’
‘I …’ It seemed a silly question. I shrugged. ‘Would you want to marry me?’
‘How can you ask?’ she sobbed, wringing her apron between her hands, staring at me with a wistful expression I had never seen before.
I wasn’t sure if she meant yes or no, but her gaze was so tender I could only assume she quite liked the idea. Now seemed like the time to embrace, but fear I might carry the Pest prevented it.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ I confessed.
‘Sort out your affairs with Lord Arlington and come back to me healthy,’ she cried. Then she clasped her hands to her mouth, turned and slammed the door closed.
It was a good thing, I screamed silently. Imagine how worried I would be had she ran across the street and thrown her arms about my neck. Who knows what might have happened to the baby? Yet I yearned to hold her tight.
Her face appeared at the window and she waved. I thought to tell her I loved her, but decided to leave that until next time. I waved back and hurried to meet Dowling at Clarendon’s house.
Chapter Twenty-Six
If we allow one sign to signifie one year, than it is manifest, that from the time of first commencing the Wars, until full three years, the Hollanders will not be in denomination high and might Lords, but a clowded, impoverished people.
The Earl was getting old. Once advisor to Charles I, then Lord Chancellor to Charles II in exile, he paraded the court like the King’s own father. He built himself a magnificent house on Piccadilly, casting a long shadow all the way to the palace itself, a mark of his influence. It was a bigger house than any man could need. Built three storeys high with two long wings, Clarendon could house the entire court inside its walls if he so wished.
Some called it ‘Holland House’, for they suspected it was built from the proceeds of Dutch bribes. The taller rose the house, so further crumbled what popularity the Earl still enjoyed. The years had passed, and Charles was no longer a boy. Where once the King relied upon his older mentor, now he resented the moralising and nagging. Some at court even dared mock the old man, though not to his face. Clarendon’s star was on the wane.
Piccadilly was wide and paved, a quiet oasis ploughing a furrow through green parkland. People paraded on Pall Mall, waved their mouchoirs and exchanged vain pleasantries. Others sat and enjoyed the morning sun. Dowling waited for me hid behind a tree.