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

he knows well enough that they are coming, but if you want to try and shift him, you’re welcome to try,” Dan said. “I can do nothing, I have sworn to stand by Jack and I will not let the Master down.”

 

 

 

†

 

 

 

Richard saw the horse approaching from where he watched through one of the narrow stone windows on Burton’s top floor. From here he had the best view of the Lincoln Road and he been watching and waiting for the constable’s men. Instead he saw a lone rider making their way directly to the manor.

Richard swore as he recognised who it was, hands pushing away from the wall he headed quickly down the main stairs. As he crossed the yard he could hear the horse approaching on the other side, the sound of the hoof beats told him the horse had not slowed from a canter when it had started to cross the wooden bridge leading to the closed manor gates.

Running, he tried to cross the yard before the horse arrived. Before he got there he heard the horse neigh, the sound of a falling rider met his ears along with a loud cry of exclamation.

Richard ripped the locking bar from the back of the gate and let it tumble to the ground, both hands on the gate he hauled it open.

Fallen from her horse, Catherine was in the process of pushing herself back up.

“If you have something to tell me I hope you have not just knocked it from your brains.” Richard took hold of her arm and pulled her quickly to her feet.

“The Queen’s men are bound this way now, leave quickly before they get here, there’s still time,” Catherine blurted, swaying on unsteady feet.

“That is most unfortunately true and, alas, not a product of the knock on the head you just gave yourself,” Richard moved past her and took hold of the horses trailing reins.

“They won’t be far behind me. I saw them in Lincoln,” Catherine said, and then added helpfully, “there were eight of them.”

“There’ll be more than eight of them by the time they get here. The constable’s not stupid enough to try and take Burton with eight. He’ll pick up a force from the Bishop of Lincoln,” Richard said, pulling Catherine and the horse through the opening. Froggy Tate had arrived and, after a word from the master, secured the gate and then led the panting horse away.

Richard said nothing. He propped her against the wall, and when she did not seem in fear of falling, left her.

“What will you do?” Catherine said stepping quickly after Richard on steady feet as he headed towards the hall.

“Master says you are to come with me,” Froggy had reappeared.

“What?” snapped Catherine.

“The master said I’m to take you out of here now. Come on,” Froggy moved to catch hold of her arm.

“No, I stay. I didn’t come here to be ignored,” Catherine hissed at him. “Where’s he gone?”

“He’s in the hall. Now come on.” Froggy made a grab for her arm. Catherine ducked and ran for the hall, her knees still trembling from the fall. Richard was seated on a chair on the dais, a cup of wine in his hand.

“Didn’t you listen to me?” Catherine yelled as she ran through the door into the empty hall towards him.

“What would you have me do?” There was anger in Richard’s voice.

“Leave before they get here would seem the sensible course,” Catherine said, arms apart, leaning across the table towards him. “Do you intend to sit here and let them take you?”

“A perfect observation,” Richard replied coolly.

“Why?” she yelled at him. “Go! You can get away still. I cannot believe you are going to sit there.”

“The lamb to the slaughter,” he said quietly, swilling the wine around the cup.

Catherine pushed his shoulder back so he was forced to face her.

“Unhand me, lady. Believe me, this will be difficult enough. It is not, I hope you realise, an act I do with pleasure. Now get out of here, this is not a child’s game,” Richard voice was angry.

Outside the hall, both of them heard a number of horses entering the yard.

“They’ve opened the gates and let them in!” Catherine gasped.

Richard took her arm in a frightening grip. “Get you from my hall.” He pushed her away from him. Catherine stumbled backwards into the middle of the hall.

In the corner of the hall was the narrow wooden door leading to the rooms above and to the wooden gallery that overlooked the hall. Catherine, her eyes never leaving Richard’s made it to the door in half a dozen quick paces, closing it a moment before the constable’s men burst into the hall.

 

 

 

†

 

 

 

Catherine arrived on the balcony over the dais in time to see Mat leading the men towards Richard seated at the table. One officer advanced towards the Master and she saw him take from his doublet a document and bang it down in front of the seated man. Richard raised his cup in what looked like a toast to the officer. Catherine watched open-mouthed as the officer slapped it from his hand, wine spilling the length of the table, glistening like blood on the surface.

More men entered. Catherine’s eyes widened as she recognised the figure of Alan striding in amongst them, laughing confidently. Mat, she saw, was still deep in conversation with the uniformed officer he had entered with.

Richard was hauled to his feet. The men in the hall watched as his doublet was ripped from him until he stood in his shirt. He wasn’t resisting, but two men held him tightly and pressed his hands together where they were bound securely.

As he began to walk across the hall, one of the men who had held him placed a hand in the small of his back making him stumble forward. Alan suddenly stepped in close to him. Catherine could not hear the words, but the final comment was a punch to the head from Alan which knocked Richard to the floor. Awkwardly, and slowly, he got back to his feet, watched by his own men who stood around the hall. They led him out through the kitchens so she deduced they were not leaving but must be using the storerooms as a temporary gaol.

Catherine continued to look on. None of Richard’s men were being rounded up. They were still armed, drink had been broken out and the scene in the hall was nothing short of one of revelry and celebration. Had they sold their master? She could think of nothing else but this to account for this. What to do? Where to go now? And where was Jack?

The balcony was dark and she knew she couldn’t be seen from below, but even so she crawled to the furthest end and curled up. Knees pulled tightly to her chest and her arms wrapped around her body she shut out the world.

 

 

 

†

 

 

 

Catherine was startled awake by the noise of the hall door slamming shut. It was dark now and the hall was lit by tapers and a few candles in the wall sconces. Peering between the rotting wooden balustrades she could see that two men had entered the hall and were greeted by the officer who had banged the document down in front of Richard earlier.

As soon as the taller of the two discarded his riding cloak, she recognised him as Jack. Pressing her face hard against the carved oak, she tried but failed to hear the words they exchanged. What did meet her ears though after some minutes was the unmistakable sound of laughter. The officer clapped Jack on the back and handed him wine from an opened bottle on the table, and the small group sat down to share a drink and conversation by the fire.

Catherine crawled the length of the gallery and peered down the narrow stairs that led to the hall below; there was no one in sight. Keeping low she made a quick descent. The old wood creaked loudly despite her careful tread, but the noise brought no one to investigate. The gallery stairs led to a corridor at the back of the hall, taking you either to the kitchens or out to the courtyard; she took the kitchen route. Rounding a corner Catherine heard the sound of voices and, dropping to her knees, she peered round the wall.

Two men sat playing cards in the corridor: Richard’s temporary gaolers, she guessed, and the gaol was one of the storerooms.

Jack’s room was thankfully unlocked. She breathed deeply as she slid the door open and entered. The shutters were not drawn and some light spilt in from the moon. Catherine knew exactly what she wanted. On a shelf she found a knife and collected a doublet from the back of a chair. Carefully descending the stairs, she made her way through the deserted kitchen, pausing at the table to retrieve a bottle of wine which stood open, forgotten by the revellers.

The storerooms, of which there were three, were below the level of the ground at the back of the Manor, keeping them cool all year round. Slatted iron grills, however, did admit some light, and these were at grass level. He could be in any one of the three, she thought, crawling along the grass she peered through the grills trying to determine which one.

“If you make any more noise you will most certainly rouse the constable’s men.” It was Richard’s voice that met her grateful ears.

“Where are you?” Catherine whispered into the dark.

“Down here and not likely to be going anywhere.” Laid flat on the grass she peered into the storeroom. Her eyes, growing accustomed to the gloom, found themselves staring into Richard’s, his face lit by the moonlight. “So, fair damsel, have you come to rescue me? I do hope not,” Richard’s voice was light and careless.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on? Jack’s with them as well, he is in the hall with those men,” Catherine said, and then added, “they’re laughing.”

“Ah well, I am a comic figure am I not?” Richard didn’t sound overly concerned by his situation.

Catherine suddenly remembered her acquisitions. “Here, I have a doublet for you. It must be freezing in there.”

“The rats and I are not particularly warm, it’s true. However?” He raised his tied hands so she could see them.

Catherine received a genuine smile from the captive as she slid the knife through the bars to cut his bonds. Touching his skin as she removed the rope, she got a good measure of how cold he was.

“I got this as well,” Catherine handed the bottle of wine along with the doublet through the bars.

“Ah Catherine,” Richard smiled, “to what shall we drink?”

“To you getting out of here,” she said quickly.

“That, I am afraid, is not possible,” his voice finally sad in the darkness.

“Why?” Catherine said receiving the bottle back.

“I will give you the simple version. Jack’s dislike of me is well known. On hearing of my pending arrest, he contacted the constable, told him my whereabouts, and struck a bargain. The results of which are that, if the men fall under Jack’s leadership and he hands me over to the Queen, then he takes control of the manor and men, and everyone, obviously