The King's Spy (Thomas Hill Trilogy 1) (32 page)

On receiving the decrypted lists, the king said only that Thomas would no longer be under guard, that he might leave Christ Church as he wished, and that arrangements would be made to escort him back to Romsey. Until then Thomas must stay in Oxford in case of further developments. He now knew with certainty that one of his most trusted advisers had been sending and receiving encrypted messages on behalf of his enemies, and that he would have had access to all incoming and outgoing messages from the man who had replaced Thomas.

Thomas went first to Merton, where the queen’s household was preparing to travel. In Merton Street, horses were being groomed and carriages polished. Inside the college, under the watchful eyes of the queen’s ladies, servants bustled about with bags and boxes. Thomas doubted if any of them knew when they were leaving or where they were going, but whenever and wher ever it turned out to be, they would be ready.

Simon was in his room, reading his Bible, when Thomas arrived. ‘Not preparing for the journey, Simon?’ he enquired.

Simon looked up and smiled. ‘Thankfully, a
Franciscan has little to prepare, other than his soul. He has everything invested in that.’

‘Judging by the number of horses and carriages, and the heaps of baggage, you won’t be dining on shaggy inkcaps this time.’

‘Probably not. I wouldn’t mind, but her majesty’s household expects something rather more substantial.’

‘Does anyone know when you’re leaving?’

‘I don’t think so. Even the queen is vague on the matter. Do you know why?’

‘I do,’ replied Thomas, taking a seat beside Simon. He told Simon about backwards and forwards, his last-minute decryption, about the contents of the message, and about the lists found in Rush’s rooms.

‘Is the king now persuaded?’ asked Simon.

‘Almost. He has sent a troop to intercept Rush on his way into Oxford. He intends to interrogate Rush himself. I have warned him, however, that such a message would certainly have been sent by more than one route and that Pym will know of the plan for you to travel to Bristol before Exeter.’

‘Then no doubt the plan will change.’

They talked of the queen, Margaret, Polly and Lucy, Oxford and the war. And, finally, they talked of Jane. ‘The queen is distraught at her death. She was very fond of Jane. She insisted that her body be taken to
York,’ said Simon. ‘She would have wanted to be buried near her family.’

‘If Rush should hang for nothing else, he should hang for Jane. The rape and murder of a woman he had already tormented with threats against her family.’

‘I agree. Rush is beyond my understanding.’

‘And Fayne should be hanged, too. We must find proof.’

Thomas knew all was not well the moment he set foot back in Christ Church. A group of Lifeguards stood inside the college gate, shuffling their feet and looking sullen. A second group had congregated at the other end of the cattle pen, near the Great Hall. Both groups seemed to be waiting for something. He asked one of the first group what news they brought.

‘News that our captain is giving the king at this very moment,’ replied the soldier, ‘and I thank God it’s him, not me.’

‘I am Thomas Hill, adviser to the king. May I know what the news is?’

The soldier exchanged a glance with the man next to him. ‘The king will know by now, Master Hill, so I may as well tell you. We were sent to intercept Tobias Rush on his way into Oxford from the west. The king wanted him brought straight here.’

‘Is he dead?’

‘No, sir, far from it. While we were engaged with his guards, he slipped away. Just turned his horse and galloped off. We hadn’t time to stop him.’

‘Did you give chase?’

‘We did, sir, but he was gone. His majesty will not be happy. The captain told us it was a task we had better not fail in. I hope his majesty will give us another chance.’

‘I wish you well, Captain. Tobias Rush must be brought to justice.’ Rush, now a proven traitor, still at large. Perhaps Fayne, his murdering accomplice, might lead Thomas to him.

Thomas went from Christ Church to Pembroke, where Silas met him in the courtyard. ‘I’m happy to find you looking well, sir,’ he said, shaking Thomas’s hand. ‘There’s been all manner of stories going about. We heard you’d been put in the castle gaol, then you’d disappeared, then you’d come back and were under guard in Christ Church.’

‘Servants’ gossip, Silas.’

‘I suppose so, sir. Is it true?’

‘Some of it. But I’m free now, and looking forward to going home.’

‘When will you be leaving, sir?’

‘The king expects me to travel with the queen’s party in a few days’ time. Before then, I have a task to perform and I should value your help, Silas.’

Silas’s eyes narrowed. ‘It wouldn’t have to do with Tobias Rush, sir, would it? I wouldn’t want to stand too close to him.’

‘Not Rush, Silas, Francis Fayne. Has he been seen in the college?’

‘Oh no, sir. Captain Fayne has left us. He was here one day, gone the next. Never a word of explanation, and no one knows why, or where he went.’

‘No idea where he might be?’

‘None, sir, and I’m not in a hurry to find out. Loudmouthed beggar, he was, spent his days gambling and whoring. Never saw him do any soldiering.’

‘He’s a member of Sir Henry Bard’s regiment now. Do you know where they’re billeted?’

‘I don’t think they’re in any of the colleges, so they’ll be in the town. The almshouses, sir, I daresay. God knows how Fayne got himself a room in Pembroke.’

‘Thank you, Silas. I’ll start there. Let me know if you do happen to hear anything.’

‘I will, sir. Treat him with caution, mind. He didn’t take kindly to your last meeting.’

Thomas spent most of the following day knocking on the doors of rows of modest houses in Brewer Street, Littlegate and the narrow streets around them. Every one of them had been commandeered and was occupied by army officers and their families. Most of the wretched townsfolk who had been forced to hand over their homes had left Oxford and were living in neighbouring villages. Some would have found a roof to sleep under, others would be sheltering as best they could in the woods and haystacks.

By the evening he was sick of asking the whereabouts of a Captain Fayne, and sicker still of the blank looks and shakes of the head that he received in reply. Even members of the same regiment could not say where Fayne was, only that he had dis appeared. He might be dead, he might have deserted and gone home. No one managed a good word for him, or even much interest. Either Fayne had covered his tracks very well, or he was accorded no more respect by his fellow soldiers than he was by Thomas.

If the army neither knew nor cared about Captain Fayne, perhaps the whores and drunks of the city did. That evening, Thomas set off from Christ Church, walked up St Aldate’s and Cornmarket and turned into Market Street. The last time he had walked in this part of the town had been after watching Jane die. Then he
had seen nothing. Now he saw everything. Even at that hour, Market Street was busy. Traders were trying to sell off what remained of their wares while thrifty housewives tried to shave another farthing or two off their prices, and ragged boys moved in and out of the crowd, looking for an easy pocket to pick or purse to snatch. Failing those, an apple or a bun from an unguarded stall would be slipped into a bag and taken home for dinner. And, if it were possible, the open drain which ran down the middle of the street was overflowing with even more muck and shit than it had been before. Thomas held a handkerchief to his face and picked his way carefully towards the Crown.

The inn was as busy as ever. Thomas wormed his way in, nudging and inching between drinkers and getting cursed and elbowed in return, until he reached the hatch from which the landlord dispensed his wares. From there, with his back to the wall, he looked around the room in the hope of spotting a head of long fair hair. It was a vain hope. Francis Fayne, by his height and his appearance, would stand out in any crowd, and he was not standing out in this one. Nor was he at the table at the back where they had played hazard. Not that Thomas had really expected to see him. A man who has been party to rape and is known to have consorted with a traitor does not disappear only to reappear at one of his
old haunts. But, his fellow soldiers having been no help at all, Thomas had to start somewhere, and the Crown was as good a place as any.

Taking a wooden tankard of ale from the landlord, he edged back into the middle of the room where he joined a circle of drinkers, none of whom he recognized. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he offered, raising his tankard. ‘Permit me to introduce myself. Thomas Hill, newly arrived in Oxford, and in need of advice from wiser heads.’

‘Master Hill,’ replied one of them, ‘welcome to an overcrowded Oxford. What brings you here?’

Thomas was ready for this, and used the answer that he had agreed with Abraham. ‘I came to visit an old friend.’

Another soldier eyed him suspiciously. ‘An odd time to choose to make a visit.’

‘Indeed. But time waits for no man and I fear there will not be another chance. It was now or never.’

‘We are but humble soldiers of the king,’ said the first man. ‘What advice is it you seek?’

Thomas did his best to look embarrassed. ‘Being away from home, I have in mind to take the opportunity to, er, sample new pleasures. I wondered if you gentlemen might be able to recommend a suitable establishment for a man such as I.’

The second man guffawed. ‘He wants a whorehouse. God’s wounds, man, Oxford is full of them. Take your pick. Take precautions, though, or you’ll get more than you bargained for. There’s plenty of pox about.’

Thomas smiled nervously. ‘Yes, yes, I daresay. It’s just that one seldom has an opportunity for a little, er, variety, and I am in experienced in such matters. Could you possibly recommend somewhere?’

A third man joined in. ‘You’ll find several excellent establishments in Magpie Lane. Try your luck there.’

Thomas inclined his head to the man. ‘I’m obliged, sir. Magpie Lane. And where would that be?’ He knew perfectly well where it was. He had walked down it on his first day in Oxford.

‘It joins High Street and Merton Street. You’ll know it by the whores lining the road. The ones who are too old and too ugly to work with roofs over their heads.’

‘Thank you, sir. Again, I’m obliged. May I refresh your tankards, gentlemen?’

Having made good his offer, Thomas returned to the group. ‘I almost forgot, sirs, there is another matter upon which you might be able to help me. I believe my cousin’s regiment is at present stationed in Oxford. Colonel Pinchbeck’s. Would you happen to know if it is?’

‘It was, sir. After Newbury, what was left of it
joined with Sir Henry Bard’s. And what is the name of your cousin, if I may ask? If he’s a stout soldier and a drinking man, we might know him.’

‘Francis Fayne. Captain Fayne.’

There was an awkward silence. Then the first man spoke. ‘Fayne. Not a name to endear you to us, Master Hill. Or to anyone in Oxford, I daresay.’

‘Oh, and why is that?’ asked Thomas.

‘The man’s a gambler, and a poor one at that. He owes money all over the town.’

‘I’m distressed to hear it, most distressed. However, I promised my wife that I would seek him out if I could. Do you know where I might find him?’

‘In a brothel, in a tavern, in his grave? Who cares?’

‘I gather feelings for Captain Fayne run high. Most un fortunate. I shall have to keep this from dear Prudence. And you cannot suggest where he might be?’

‘He disappeared not long ago. Probably ran off to escape his creditors. There’s a good few who’d like to find him.’

‘I am not a military man, but is it not odd for a captain simply to disappear? Will his regiment not look for him?’

‘Ordinarily, they would. But these are not ordinary times. Men go missing and there’s no one to look for them. We’re all needed to fight the war.’

‘What would happen if he were found?’

‘He’d be hanged. The king doesn’t much like men who run away.’

‘No, indeed. Well, I shall just have to tell Prudence that he was off fighting somewhere.’

‘Off whoring somewhere, more like.’

‘Quite. Now I must take a stroll to Magpie Lane. Good day, gentlemen, and thank you for your advice.’

Thomas left the men to their drinking and made his way back to the door. Neither drinkers nor soldiers knew or cared where Fayne was. The man was a gambler and a libertine, he had no friends, and there was no sign of him in Oxford. Even in a dung heap there is one creature more repulsive than the rest.

Even in Thomas’s student days, Magpie Lane had been notorious. It was where many a young scholar had woken up with a head throbbing from drink and an unfamiliar face beside him. Brothels lined both sides of the narrow lane, and, as the soldier had said, whores long past their best plied their trade wherever they could for a few pennies, serving what a merchant might have called the less discerning end of the market.

He knocked on the door of the first house. It was opened at once by a young housemaid, and he stepped inside. Without a word she escorted him to a room at the back, where men and women in various states of
undress lolled about, drinking, eating and fondling each other. Some of the men were managing to drink, fondle and smoke a long-stemmed clay pipe all at the same time. A large lady, her face powdered and her head adorned with a wig luxuriant enough to rival any lady at court, emerged from another room. She beamed at Thomas. ‘Good evening, sir. Welcome to our little establishment. Shall you take a glass of wine while you consider how best we may serve you?’

Might as well, thought Thomas. I shan’t be taking anything else. ‘Thank you, madam.’

A glass of wine was brought, Thomas was shown to a chair, and, before he could protest, three women, not one of them older than eighteen, had arranged themselves around him. Despite himself, he looked at them. Neither ugly nor pretty, neither slim nor fat, they might have been chosen for their ordinariness.

‘Are you new in Oxford, sir?’ asked the brothel-owner. ‘I don’t recall seeing you before.’

‘I am,’ replied Thomas, taking a sip of wine. ‘Your house was recommended to me by a friend. Francis Fayne, of Sir Henry Bard’s regiment.’