The King's Spy (Thomas Hill Trilogy 1) (35 page)

‘No, sir,’ replied Tomkins. ‘Fayne was in Colonel Pinchbeck’s Regiment, now joined with Sir Henry Bard’s. We are with Colonel Bagot.’

Thomas knew of the regiment. ‘Ah, yes. Richard Bagot – one of the first regiments formed to fight for the king. Were you at Newbury?’

‘We were, sir, and by God’s will, lived to tell of it. Many friends died there.’

‘And you’re sure Fayne avoided the battle by subterfuge?’

‘Quite sure, sir,’ replied Smithson. ‘He claimed to
have been in a skirmish, but he was lying. One of his men admitted as much.’

‘Yet you play dice with him.’

‘We did. Not any longer. You saw yourself what the man’s like. An evil temper and quick with his fists. When we heard about Newbury, we had no more to do with him.’

‘Do you think he’ll come tonight?’

‘Who knows, sir? We can only wait and pray.’

‘Indeed. Although I’ll leave the praying to you. I’ve never been much of a hand at it.’

‘Not a church-goer, sir?’

‘Family occasions only. Now, if Fayne arrives, we’d better have a plan.’

‘What do you suggest, sir?’ asked Tomkins.

‘Well, I have inspected the house. There are no other doors, or windows wide enough for a man to squeeze through. It would be a mistake to charge in after him. Others might take his part. We could find ourselves trapped and outnumbered. We’ll wait until he comes out. Simon will be behind him, and we will be in front. He won’t escape.’

Smithson and Tomkins exchanged a look. ‘That sounds sensible, sir,’ said Smithson. ‘We’ll wait on your order to take him.’

‘Good. Now I shall wait here. You two go to either
end of the street. Between us, we’ll see him if he comes.’

With three pairs of eyes watching, they would surely not miss Fayne if he came. The question was – would he come?

For an hour and then another, they saw the comings and goings of visitors to the gambling house, the guards changing and a woman noisily vomiting against the wall. They heard dogs barking, cats wailing, and a man and his wife arguing angrily in a nearby cottage. They did not see or hear Fayne. Each man kept steadfastly to his appointed position, not wanting to be the first to weaken. As the evening grew colder, a man peering out from the house opposite would have seen three men, apparently unconnected, stamping their feet and blowing on their hands, and wondered why they did not go and find fires to sit in front of. Thomas was very close to giving up and leaving Simon to lose his money alone, when all three of them saw a solitary figure enter the street from the direction of the gate and walk towards the house. Each of them shrank back into the shadows and watched.

Although the man walked with shoulders hunched and head down, they could tell that he was tall. As he approached the house, he turned and looked furtively around, as if afraid of being seen. His face was in shadow
and his head covered by a broad black hat. He reached the door of the house and knocked. The door was quickly opened, and the man took off his hat before entering. Even in the dark, his long fair hair was clearly visible. It was Fayne.

The moment he entered the house, Smithson from one end of the street and Tomkins from the other ran towards Thomas in the middle. No more than a pace or two from him, both turned sharply towards the house. Smithson knocked, the door was opened and they disappeared inside. Thomas, too astonished to react, stood and stared blankly at the closed door. As his wits returned, the realiz ation dawned that he had misjudged them: they had planned to ignore Thomas’s instructions to take Fayne alive. Simon might be in danger. He too ran to the door and knocked loudly.

As always, the door was opened at once. Instead of being ushered in, however, Thomas was knocked to the ground by a figure hurtling out. From inside came confused shouts of alarm and instruction, followed by Tomkins and Smithson, swords drawn, pursuing the fleeing figure. Thomas struggled to his feet and gave chase. As a student, he had been a noted runner, seldom defeated over any distance less than a mile, and often the toast of those wise enough to put their money on him. A little out of practice but unencumbered by a
sword, he quickly closed on the two men, and overtook them just as they reached the end of the street. For some reason, the fleeing Fayne had run off in the direction of the town, not the gate, from which he might have been able to make his escape. Thomas raced past Tomkins and Smithson, just in time to see Fayne disappearing round a corner. He paused to throw off his heavy coat, then he was off again and picking up speed. As long as he kept Fayne in view, the bigger, heavier man would not throw him off.

It did not take long. Within a minute, Thomas had caught Fayne. He launched himself at the man’s back, bringing him down with a crack of bone. Fayne was on his face, screaming. Thomas, up on his feet again and puffing from the race, saw that the man’s leg was twisted at an awkward angle. Fayne rolled over, held his knee, saw Thomas and cursed. He had come unarmed. If he had carried either sword or pistol, he would not have been admitted to the gambling house. And with a broken leg, he would not be running anywhere. Thomas stood over him and wondered what he was going to do when the other two reached them.

By the time they came clattering up, Thomas had recovered his breath and was standing in front of Fayne.

‘What the devil are you two up to?’ he shouted. ‘We agreed not to act until he came out.’

They were both puffing and blowing. Tomkins recovered first. ‘We want justice, sir. He’s a coward and a traitor, and he should die.’

‘And so he will. We agreed. But on the end of a rope, not at our hands. Why did you do it?’

This time, Smithson answered. ‘Master Hill, you are a brave man and a good one, but you are not a soldier. To a soldier, cowardice is worse than murder, and should be punished by instant death. We feared that you would be less certain in your opinion.’

Thomas’s voice was icy. ‘Captain, this man also raped and murdered an innocent lady, who was my dear friend. He will hang for it. Your stupidity could have exploded like an over-primed cannon and blown up in our faces.’

There was a croak from behind Thomas. ‘I did not rape her.’

Thomas turned to face Fayne. ‘That we shall ascertain.’ Then he spoke to Tomkins. ‘Go and find Father de Pointz. Smithson will stay with me while I ask this man a few questions.’

When Tomkins had gone, he spoke to Smithson again. ‘When I have finished, you will take him to your colonel. You will not dispense your own justice. Is that clear? Listen carefully and remember what he says.’ Smithson, though unaccustomed to being given orders
by a bookseller, nevertheless nodded dumbly, and stood beside Thomas in front of a groaning Fayne. If his face was anything to go by, the man was in a great deal of pain. Thomas would have to be quick or Fayne might pass out.

‘Now, Fayne, you will answer my questions. If you do not, or if I think you are lying, Smithson will kick your knee. Hard. Do you understand?’ Fayne managed a weak nod. ‘Good. Did you take money from Tobias Rush?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘To walk by the river with Jane.’

‘Did you rape her?’

‘No.’

‘Kick him, Smithson.’ Smithson kicked the knee and Fayne screamed. ‘I will ask again. Did you rape her?’

‘No.’

‘Who did?’

‘Two others.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I saw them.’

‘Who were they?’

‘I don’t know. Rush’s men.’ Fayne was fading fast and Thomas had no time to waste.

‘Why did you arrive late at Newbury?’

‘Delayed.’

‘Another kick, if you please.’

But before Smithson could deliver the kick, Fayne shrieked. ‘No. Waited outside the town.’

‘Until it was over?’ Fayne nodded. ‘Until it was over, Fayne?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why have you been in hiding?’

‘Rush.’

‘Rush?’

‘Both men found with throats cut.’

‘And you feared having yours cut too?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where is Rush?’

‘I don’t know. Long gone.’

That was it. Fayne passed out in pain and his head slumped to the ground. ‘Did you hear all that?’ Thomas asked Smithson.

‘I did.’

‘So you are witness to Fayne’s confession to being a traitor and a coward, and to assisting in the rape of Jane Romilly.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. Your colonel will be interested in your report. If he does not get it, and Fayne, I will deliver it myself.’

‘Yes, sir.’

There was the sound of running boots and Tomkins appeared with Simon. Thomas spoke first to Tomkins. ‘Fayne has confessed to three crimes, any one of which would hang him. You and Smithson take him to your colonel and give him a full report. You’ll have to help him. His leg is broken.’ Between them, they hoisted Fayne to his feet and half carried, half dragged him off. ‘One more thing,’ called Thomas after them, ‘my thanks for your help.’

‘Do you think Fayne will last the night, Thomas?’ asked Simon.

‘I doubt it. He’ll die of his wounds before they can hand him over.’

‘Is he wounded?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Did he know where Rush is?’

‘No. Long gone, he said. I daresay he’s right.’

‘Alas, I fear so. Now let us get back to Merton where I can get out of this foul coat, you can tell me everything and we can see if there is any news from the king.’

Sitting in Simon’s room, with Simon back in his habit and Thomas sipping a glass of his wine, Thomas told him everything that had happened and what Fayne had
admitted. ‘I’m sorry they charged in,’ he concluded. ‘I had no idea what they were planning.’

‘I assumed not,’ replied Simon with a grin. ‘It took me quite by surprise. One moment Fayne walks in, the next those two come thundering in behind him. It was just as well he was too quick for them, or it might have been chaos. He was out of the door before they could reach him. I followed as quickly as I could, but several alarmed gamblers had to be gently moved out of the way first. He was only just in time.’

‘Who was?’

‘Fayne. I had only two guineas left. Another minute or two and he’d have been too late.’

‘Bad dice, Simon?’

‘Very. If I say so myself, I am a most accomplished player of hazard, but even I could not stem the losses tonight.’

‘Have the Franciscan coffers been seriously depleted?’

‘In money, somewhat. In the pursuit of justice, not at all. Money well spent.’

‘Most pragmatic, Simon.’

‘If only Rush had not escaped. Catching the dog is one thing, its owner quite another.’

‘At least he can do the king no more harm. Is there any message from the queen?’

‘None. Perhaps tomorrow.’

THERE WAS NO
news the next day, or the day after that. Thomas waited for a message, but none came. The king was saying nothing, and the queen’s temper was sorely tried. Simon reported that she had taken to shouting at her ladies-in-waiting and ignoring her servants. Even Master Hudson, of whom she was very fond, had come in for abuse, and had stomped around complaining that he did not care to be called a tiresome little toad.

At Christ Church, the king’s mood had descended like the blackest of clouds. Voices were hushed, the college was quiet, there was little of the old activity. Men and women spoke and moved as if wary of incurring the royal anger and being despatched at once to the scaffold. Only the noisy cattle in their pen were
oblivious. Thomas sat in his room, reading a little but mostly thinking about his sister and his nieces. He wondered if the king would remember his promise to provide an escort home, and, if so, how long he would have to wait. For all the service he had given, Thomas Hill, cryptographer and bookseller, would not be high on the royal list of priorities. New codes would have to be devised and distributed for all messages to and from the king’s commanders, an assessment of the damage done by Rush would have to be made, and new plans put in place. Thomas might be forgotten altogether.

And, all the while, the news filtering in of the war was not good. Oliver Cromwell’s cavalry, supported by the Earl of Manchester and Sir Thomas Fairfax, had sent a Royalist army running for their lives through the Lincolnshire countryside, and, in Scotland, the Earl of Leven was gathering his forces for an advance towards Newcastle. Nottingham and Manchester were in Parliament’s hands, and Chester was under threat. In the south and the west, bands of clubmen had become serious obstacles to the occupation of towns and villages, with the result that the king’s soldiers were going hungry. It would not be long before they started deserting in droves – just what the clubmen wanted.

Thomas heard nothing of Romsey, still in Royalist-held territory, but the forces of Parliament now held
both Southampton and Portsmouth. If Romsey’s merchants were unable to send their cloth to the ports, trade would dry up and everyone in the town would suffer. Simon had brought plenty of money for Margaret, and they had a decent amount under the stairs, so Thomas had no fears on that score; even in times of scarcity, food could always be bought by anyone with the price for it. For her safety, however, and that of the girls, he feared greatly. He had experienced soldiers from both sides in the town, and he knew what they could do. They could drink, fight, steal, rape and kill. He wondered, too, if there had been any more threatening letters. The chances were that they were nothing, albeit a frightening nothing. And if they were something, especially something devised by Tobias Rush, God alone knew what might have happened.