‘But none of them know about my past,’ objected Chaloner. ‘Unless you have told them?’
‘I have not,’ said the Earl firmly. ‘Do you think me a fool, to provide them with ammunition? And Williamson knows better than to tell them, too, because he is afraid of your mentor. Cromwell’s old spymaster may have lost his government posts and a good slice of his wealth when the Royalists returned, but he still wields enough power to make him dangerous.’
Unfortunately, though, the fear in which men had once held Thurloe was beginning to wane as time passed. Chaloner was not worried about what that meant for himself, although the prospect of an unleashed Williamson was not something he relished, but about the repercussions for his friend. There were those who thought Cromwell’s chief advisor had no right to be living in peaceful retirement, and should suffer a traitor’s death.
‘Greene, sir,’ Chaloner prompted, supposing he would have to prove his loyalty yet again to the Earl and the new government — and keep proving it until he was fully trusted. It was a miserable situation, because there was little about the Earl or the work that he liked, but he needed to earn a crust, and no one else was lining up to hire him.
The Earl pursed his lips. ‘When Greene came slithering out of the Painted Chamber, just as you and I happened to be walking past, he behaved very suspiciously.’
‘He was frightened,’ said Chaloner reasonably. ‘He had just found a dead senior official, and then the Lord Chancellor accused him of murder. I would have been frightened, too.’
‘But you would not have tried to run away. You would have stayed and explained yourself.’
‘He panicked — it could happen to anyone under such circumstances.’
‘Rubbish,’ declared the Earl, with a note of finality that told Chaloner any further debate would be a waste of time. ‘But I told Colonel Turner that I want this killer — whether it is Greene or someone else — behind bars by Twelfth Night. He assures me that it will be done. What will you promise?’
‘To do my best. I will not lie to you, or make pledges I may not be able to fulfil.’
The Earl stared at him for a moment. ‘Very well. Go and do your best then, and let us see where it leads. However, I see no point in continuing to watch Greene — he slipped past you to murder Vine, after all — so give up the surveillance and concentrate on other leads instead. And incidentally, these deaths do not mean you can forget about the previous task I set you.’
Chaloner regarded him blankly. ‘What previous task? Finding out what the Lord of Misrule plans to do over the next ten days?’
The Earl grimaced in distaste. ‘You had better not waste your time on that nonsense! No, I mean the King’s missing statue. He remains grieved by its loss, and I would like to be the one to hand it back to him. You will be busy, because I give both these enquiries equal status.’
The Earl of Clarendon was not normally a stupid man, and Chaloner could not help but wonder whether there was more to his dislike of Greene than he was willing to share. It would not be the first time he had been less than honest with his spy before sending him off on an investigation, and Chaloner knew from bitter experience that this could prove dangerous. But such subterfuge was the Earl’s way, and Chaloner had come to expect lies and half-truths, so he resigned himself to fathoming out the mystery without his master’s cooperation. It was a wicked waste of his time, especially given that he had two other enquiries to conduct, but it could not be helped, and there was no point in wasting energy by railing against it.
‘He is in a bad mood this morning,’ said Bulteel, following the spy down the stairs with some letters to post. ‘His gout must be aggravating him.’
‘He is always in a bad mood,’ Chaloner replied tartly. ‘So goutiness must be his permanent state.’
‘Do not be too hard on him,’ said Bulteel quietly. ‘He is under a lot of pressure, what with the bishops demanding new laws to suppress nonconformists, the Court popinjays clamouring for war with the Dutch, and people muttering that the Queen — the wife he chose for His Majesty — is barren.’
‘How is your family?’ Chaloner was loath to discuss the Earl’s concerns, because he and Bulteel held diametrically opposite views on most of them. Bulteel tended to accept whatever the Earl told him, whereas Chaloner had seen enough of the world to make up his own mind.
Bulteel blinked at the abrupt enquiry. ‘Well, we would like to provide our little son with a sibling, but I fear for my future employment. Haddon has only been here a few months, but the Earl already prefers him to me — he is taking over duties that should be mine.’
‘But that is why he was hired,’ Chaloner pointed out. ‘You were overwhelmed, struggling to keep up, and Haddon is meant to be taking some of your work. The Earl expects you to be grateful, not nervous.’
‘Well, I am nervous,’ snapped Bulteel, uncharacteristically sharp. ‘This job is important to me. And I do not like Haddon, anyway. He smells of dog and is always smiling at people. It is not natural.’
‘Right,’ said Chaloner, not sure what else to say. Haddon did smile at people, but no more than was necessary for normal social intercourse, and the spy had not noticed any particular odour of pooch. He changed the subject before the discussion went any further — he did not want to take sides when he had to work with both secretary and steward. ‘I do not suppose you have heard any rumours about these murders, have you? About potential culprits?’
‘I am afraid not,’ replied Bulteel. ‘All I know is that neither victim will be mourned by his kin, although London will be a poorer place without them. They were good men.’
‘You knew them well?’
‘No, but I wish I had — they were gentle and kind. And Vine funded a hospice for stray dogs. Perhaps that is why they were killed — the Court is so full of vice that decency is considered a fault.’
‘Is Greene the kind of man to despise goodness?’
‘I do not know him well, either, but I would not have thought so. He is very devout, by all accounts — attends church most mornings, and does charitable work in Southwark.’
‘Then what about the missing statue? There must be some gossip regarding its whereabouts?’
‘Not that I have heard. Colonel Turner has been told to make enquiries, too, but I would rather you were the one to find it.’
Chaloner shrugged. ‘It does not matter which of us succeeds, only that the King has it back. He is said to be very distressed about its disappearance.’
Bulteel was silent for a moment, then began to speak. ‘Turner is a danger to your future. And Haddon is a danger to mine. You and I have worked together before to our mutual advantage, so what do you say to renewing our alliance? You tell me if Haddon confides any plot that might prove detrimental to me; I tell you anything I hear about the statue or the murders. Agreed?’
‘Very well,’ said Chaloner, confident that the steward would confide nothing of the kind, so betraying one colleague to another would not be a quandary he would ever be obliged to face.
Bulteel smiled. ‘Good. And to seal our agreement, I shall go with you to the Shield Gallery. Turner should be gone by now, because we both know there is nothing to find — you have already looked.’
‘So why should I go there with you now?’ asked Chaloner warily.
‘Because I have been thinking about the theft, and I have a theory. It involves keys.’
The ease with which the thief had entered the Shield Gallery on the night the statue had gone missing was something that had troubled Chaloner from the start, and he was more than willing to listen to Bulteel’s ideas on the subject. The secretary had a sharp mind, and might well have an insight into how the crime had been committed — and Chaloner needed all the help he could get now he was in competition with another investigator. He nodded assent, and they began to walk in that direction.