A Queen's Spy by - (black authors fiction .TXT) 📖

up The Stand, let them. The land there is open and wide, then they will pass down The Fleet and into the city near Blackfriars. Set your men up to block every exit once they are in the streets and beyond St Paul’s,” Richard supplied.

“We would be better meeting them head on in the open fields near St Clement’s Well, after they cross the bridge.” Derby objected.

“No, let them enter the city. Let their force press forwards and sense victory, then block the streets. The rear will press the front against your defenders and the streets are so narrow there that there’ll be no communication between front and rear. Keep a force of men out of sight near Aldergate and then use them to push Wyatt further into the trap,” Richard explained. “They will have nowhere to go, the front and the rear flank will be under attack and if you press the troops forward from Blackfriars you will crush them, literally.”

“Christ man, it’s a filthy way to win a campaign,” Derby said, although it was clear from the look on his face that it was a plan that offered a degree of certainty that he liked.

“It’s not a campaign is it? It is not even insurrection, it is nothing but a criminal act of treason if it lacks popular support, and Wyatt lacks support. Set your blocks up after St Paul’s, that way they will be unaware until they are upon them.” There was a bitter edge in his voice. Wyatt’s popular support had been lost when Derby’s men had intercepted his messengers. Carew’s carelessness had thrown Wyatt to the wolves, and Richard had no doubt that he would soon be torn apart.

†

 

 

 

Dan heard the noise and moved to the courtyard gate. The streets of London were empty, doors were closed, shutters pulled tight and valuables stashed beneath floors and stairs. The screaming and pounding on the gate continued. Dan slid the small shutter in the gate open and peered out, looking straight into Catherine’s wide eyes.

“Let me in!” Catherine shrieked.

Looking past her, he saw the first of the mob rounding the corner at the end of the street. Dan slid the bolts back and opened the postern gate. Catherine tripped on the step, but Dan, eager to close the breach, hauled her through the narrow gap and slammed it shut as Catherine fell on her knees in the courtyard.

“Arms!” Dan raised the alarm, grabbing the girl’s arm he pulled her to her feet, propelling her towards the house.

“I didn’t know they were so close.” Catherine wailed, and ran up the steps straight into Jack who, running to obey Dan’s orders, was still buckling on his sword belt and not looking where he was going.

“Jack, take her in and look after her; they are upon us,” Dan yelled. The noise was increasing behind him.

“Come on.” Jack took her arm, pulling her into the house and heeling the door closed behind him. They ran down the hall and then through a low-arched stone doorway, twisting down a set of narrow steps to emerge in the cellar. A door in the corner took them back to the same level as the house and they emerged in the stables.

“We can take horses from here and get out of London if we need to.” Jack peered through the slatted stable wall to see what was happening outside. All seemed quiet. “I thought I’d seen the last of you,” he said, moving quickly to the other side of the stable to peer again through the slits.

Dan burst through the door. “Get her out, Jack. They are through the gate and I’m not losing good men to that rabble; we’re going to pull back. Go,” he ordered, disappearing.

“Bloody hell!” Jack saddled two horses in record time. “Here, take the reins. When I open the gate ride…”

Catherine struggled to clamber into the saddle.

“Christ! Are you sent to kill us both? Come on, get up.” Jack threw her up into the saddle and they sped from the stable and into the still empty streets behind the house.

Jack pulled the horses up when they were outside the city. Catherine sat shivering on top of the lathered horse.

“I didn’t know what to do, it all happened so quickly. I didn’t know…and then I saw them coming ‘round the corner…” Catherine wailed.

“Slow down, lass. We will worry about the circumstances of our meeting later. Right now we are going to concentrate on getting somewhere a little safer and a lot warmer.” Jack’s mind raced as he tried to think of where to move from here. They were on the north road and there would be a good chance of running into more of the rabble making their way to London if they stayed with this route. Allowing the horses a few minutes to recover, they continued their journey cross-country.

 

†

 

The Queen continued to receive information as soon as it became available and spent the rest of the time in her private chapel, variously pacing, wringing her hands, and praying to the lady.

“What news?”

Three armed men followed Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, into the hall. He knelt before the Queen.

“They have moved to cross the river at Richmond, Your Majesty. We have troops deployed across the city to stop his advance.”

“Praise Mary,” the Queen said, kissing her rosary cross.

“The day will be ours, your Majesty. They are poorly equipped and badly organised. Wyatt’s band is chiefly comprised of beggars, thieves and vagabonds, they will be more concerned with looting than championing his cause. When they sense the full danger they are in, or have filled their packs, they’ll leave and we shall chase them down,” Norfolk stated flatly, any shame he felt about leading a troop of men that had defected to the rebels was one he had hastily buried.

“You think they will advance any further?” Mary enquired.

“No. We have made a stand and hold all the central roads; they’ll not manage to pass us. The aim,” he gestured with his arm, “is to block the main roads, allow them into the edge of the city, and create around them a trap from which they cannot escape.”

“And Derby?” Mary pressed.

“He’s taken men already and positioned them near Aldergate to close the trap behind them. Within a few hours your Majesty we will have Wyatt’s men contained.”

 

†

 

Seventy miles away from London, the half sister of her most gracious majesty was playing cards with Kate at Ashridge.

“I don’t know what has happened but sure as the Devil, something’s afoot,” Kate said, turning over a three of clubs. “Mary’s guard was strengthened this morning when another troop of men arrived,” she added sotto voce.

“I know. I have seen them myself, and I believe you have already told me five times at least. I should be flattered that they take such pains to secure my whereabouts,” Elizabeth said cynically.

“It must be that Wyatt has ridden against the Queen,” Kate said. The debate, consisting in the main of wild conjecture as they had no hard facts to go on, was into its third hour. “Think, my lady, he may triumph. Remember, the people oppose Mary, particularly now she plans to marry Philip.”

“Richard said he thought Wyatt would fail, and until I hear otherwise I will trust his judgement. To do anything else will give Renard the final excuse to persuade Mary to have my head,” Elizabeth said.

“I would like to be a fly on the wall now in the palace,” said Kate maliciously. “I would bet my best dress the old cow is scared to the bone.”

 

†

 

Wearing a cuirass and with a red sash tied to his shoulder identifying him as part of the government forces, Richard took control of erecting the block across Cheapside. There was a slight bend in the road and it was after this that they erected their defenses. It would work better if the advancing men were not forewarned until they were too far down the narrow street to retreat. Any reverse at that point would be impossible, prevented by the press of men behind them.

They’d used a cart, turned onto its side and a line of empty firkins to block the advance. Their makeshift barrier stopped Wyatt’s men and the front row, pressed from behind, were forced onto the blades of the defending troops. Within minutes the dead themselves were the blockade, and the men forced forward were crushed into the narrow street, unable to defend themselves, and with no space to draw a sword they were trampled, or if they made it to the front they were hacked down by the men manning the barricades.

The street ran with blood, it poured through the mass of trapped, writhing bodies, and still the men at the rear forced them forwards unaware of what was happening at the front.

Richard wheeled his blade round again in front of him; it was an execution, not a fight. The blade he held ran with blood, it had made it beyond the hilt and his gloved hand was soaked with it.       

The fight was over in less than an hour. The dead remained where they had fallen, the rest of Wyatt’s supporters surrounded by Derby’s troops were being herded back from the city where they were going to be secured outside of the city gates. If Wyatt himself was dead Richard did not know, he had not been among the men who had advanced towards the Tower down Cheapside.

The grass around St Paul’s was littered with the immediate aftermath of the fight, the dead and dying laid out next to bodies of horses and abandoned weapons. Walking through them, Richard’s eyes fastened on the heavy riveted doors of the church and he made his way into the dark, cold interior.

He made ten steps inside the Cathedral before he groped blindly for the support of the wall and a shaking hand found it. It wasn’t enough. He felt the whole force of what he had done course though him like fire, burning his nerves, making his chest tighten and his heart beat painfully.

There was noise inside St Paul’s. Feet were running on the ochre floor tiles, men were trying to find sanctuary inside its solid stone walls. He supposed he, too, was trying to find sanctuary as well from the carnage in the streets. A hand leaning heavily on the back of a wood pew he walked unsteadily from the main aisle towards one of the small chapels on the western side of the church. A gated one offered him the peace he needed, pressing the ironwork open he entered and sank to his knees, his head on the stone bench set in the alcove, his cheek against the cold grey granite, he tried to face what he had done.

Wyatt was either dead or he had been captured, of that there was little doubt. Richard had blocked his entrance to the city, forced him to Blackfriars, and then ensured he was boxed inside an effective trap.

He had stopped him. Did he have the right to stop him?

Wyatt’s men were being hunted and butchered like rats in a barn. He’d done that, it had been of his making.

Derby and Norfolk would have held the bridge, taken the fight to Southwark and to Wyatt, of that Richard was sure. What would the outcome have been then? Wyatt had over four thousand supporters, Derby and Norfolk had half that number.