‘There is an odd sound, sir,’ he said, snapping out of his reverie when he heard it again. ‘It is coming from your other office.’
‘Dogs,’ repeated the Earl. ‘I asked Haddon to leave them at home, but he looked at me as though his world would end, and I did not have the heart to press the matter. Besides, I like dogs.’
Chaloner drew his sword when a low, guttural grunt emanated from the chamber in question. ‘Have you been in there today?’
‘You know I seldom use it in winter — it is too cold.’ The Earl narrowed his eyes. ‘Is this a ploy to prove your value as a bodyguard, in the hope that I will not oust you in favour of Turner?’
‘Leave,’ ordered Chaloner urgently, now certain something was wrong. He took a firmer grip on his sword and started to walk towards the door that linked the two rooms. ‘Take Haddon and Bulteel with you.’
‘How dare you tell me what to do! It is-’
Suddenly, the door swung open, and a bear shambled through it. It wore a muzzle over its grizzled nose, suggesting it was one of the performing beasts that provided Christmas entertainment. It had small, glittering eyes, and when it spotted Chaloner and the Earl, it immediately went up on its hind legs. It was enormous, and made a curious huffing sound, which the spy took to be some sort of warning. He stepped in front of the Earl, shielding him from it.
‘Walk slowly towards the door,’ he said quietly. There was no reply, and he glanced behind him to see the Earl’s mouth hanging open in mute horror. ‘Do not run, or it will-’
But the Earl was not listening. He issued a sharp shriek that made both bear and spy jump in alarm, then turned to flee. The sudden movement secured the animal’s undivided attention, and it dropped to all fours to lumber after him. Chaloner hurled himself at it, so the weight of his body knocked it away from its intended target, but it had moved faster than its shambling gait suggested, and its slashing paw missed the Lord Chancellor by less than the width of a finger. The Earl reached the door and hauled on the handle for all he was worth, but panic made him clumsy and he could not get it open. He wailed in terror as the bear stalked towards him, long claws clicking on the marble floor.
‘Hey!’ shouted Chaloner, scrambling to his feet and prodding it with his sword. The creature whipped around and snarled at him. He regarded it dispassionately, assessing the best spot for a fatal stab. He did not enjoy killing animals, but he was not about to stand by and let one maul his master.
‘Wait!’ A figure tore from the spare office and flung itself between bear and spy. ‘Do not hurt her! I should never have agreed to this — it was a ridiculous idea. Come, Barbara. We are going home.’
‘Barbara?’ echoed Chaloner, watching the man soothe the agitated beast by rubbing its ears. It whined, then strained in the direction of the windows. It wanted to be outside.
‘Named for Lady Castlemaine: strong, beautiful and proud.’ The man slipped a leash through a loop on the muzzle, and led Barbara out of the office, adding under his breath, ‘And a bit bad tempered.’
Chaloner was about to sheath his sword when a flicker of movement caught his eye. He braced himself for more trouble, but the door was thrown open and people began to pour out, all masked against recognition. At their head was a man wearing a golden cloak and a paper crown. The courtiers scampered through the Earl’s domain, shrieking with laughter and congratulating the Lord of Misrule on the success of his prank. The Earl’s fright gave way to rage, and he began to chase them, giving even more cause for amusement, because he was far too fat and slow to catch anyone.
‘You said you had finished tormenting the Earl,’ said Chaloner fiercely, grabbing Brodrick’s arm and swinging him roughly around. ‘And this prank may have seen him harmed.’
‘He was in no danger,’ objected Brodrick, trying to free himself. ‘That is why we brought its owner with us — to control it.’
‘It lashed out with its claws,’ argued Chaloner, furious with him. ‘It has been trained to dance about outside, and being penned up with all those sniggering wastrels frightened it into aggressive behaviour. It was a dangerous trick, one that came close to going badly wrong.’
‘You saved him,’ said Brodrick dismissively. ‘As I knew you would, should matters not go according to plan. Why do you think I waited until you arrived? It was not easy persuading that lot to be patient, and you came much later than I anticipated. Let go of me, man! He is looking this way, and I do not want him unmasking me.’
‘I will unmask you, if you pick on him again,’ vowed Chaloner. ‘You will leave him alone from now on. Do you understand?’
Brodrick’s eyes glittered behind the mask, although the spy could make out nothing more of his expression. Then the Earl’s cousin gave a terse nod, before spinning on his heel and heading for the door. Haddon and Bulteel were in his way, and they stood their ground as he strode towards them. He was obliged to ask them to move, and they did so in their own time, regarding him so coldly that Chaloner suspected the man would not be paying any social calls to his kinsman’s offices for a while.
‘Damn you!’ the Earl cried after him. ‘I am going to complain to the King about this. If Thomas had not been here, I might have been killed.’
‘You had better not dismiss him in favour of Turner, then, sir,’ said Bulteel with a grin that revealed his brown teeth. ‘It would not be right, not after he risked his life to rescue you. Again.’
‘Much as it pains me to agree with the likes of Bulteel, your secretary is right,’ said Haddon. ‘You cannot reward his courage by dispensing with his services.’
‘I shall dismiss whoever I feel like,’ shouted the Earl, incensed that minions should dare tell him what to do. ‘And I stand by my original deadline. It is Sunday today, and Twelfth Night is Tuesday, so Thomas has two days to prove his worth. After that … well, suffice to say I cannot maintain two spies.’
Chaloner began to wish he had let the bear have him.
Chapter 10
Time was running out for Greene, and for Chaloner, too, and had reached the point where it was necessary to stop chipping at the edges of the investigation and go for the heart. And the spy could think of no better way forward than to corner Greene and demand a list of anyone with whom he had had even the slightest disagreement over the years. He walked to the clerk’s Westminster office, but was told Greene was not expected in that day — he had sent a note informing his colleagues that he planned to work at home.
The spy headed for the river, where he hired a boat to take him to Wapping. It was a miserable trek, with a spiteful wind blowing needles of rain into his face the whole way. They ‘shot’ London Bridge, something that was perilous when the tide was in full flow, but that was uneventful that morning because it was on the turn, and continued east. Chaloner huddled inside his cloak, his mood growing blacker and bleaker when he realised he was as far from solutions now as he had been ten days earlier.
He strode to Greene’s house as fast as he could, partly because he needed answers as a matter of urgency, but also because he was cold and a brisk walk was a good way to warm himself up. He hammered on Greene’s door, but there was no answer, and the building had a peculiarly abandoned feel to it. He wondered if the clerk had had enough of waiting to be arrested, and had finally run away. If he had, then Chaloner did not blame him, although the Earl was going to see it as a sign of guilt.