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

the men at the side of the mill where the wheel still turned.

“He tried to escape from the window, then fell under the wheel, when we got here the water was red with blood, we think the body is still trapped down there, if it wasn’t it would have fetched up over there by the weir by now,” one of the constables men said, pointing to further down the mill course where the water indeed did run over a stone banked weir.

“Stop the wheel,” it was all Jack could think to say, horror on his face.

“We can’t, the mechanism to the sluice gates is jammed, one of the men has gone to the village to summon the miller. If he’s under there still there’ll not be much left of him.”

The miller could not be found, and so the village blacksmith was escorted to the mill site. After he inspected the gate mechanism he returned to his workshop for tools and it was another hour before the pegs securing the chains to the gates were back in place and they could be lowered to alter the course of the water.

The men still standing expectantly around the wheel saw the water slow and then reduce to a trickle. The wheel, turning on momentum, only came to rest after half a turn, rotating backwards a little before it came to a final stop. They had found John Knoll’s assistant in the village, and white-faced he’d supervised the securing of the wheel. Inside the mill was a hole through the wall and a massive post could be slid through this to anchor the wheel so it would not turn when repairs were being carried out. There was, however, no sign of a body.

When a sum of money was offered by Ayscough to explore the now still pond, it was the blacksmith who stripped to his breeches and waded in. The pond was no more than waist deep, for an efficient wheel the less of it that was submerged the easier it was to turn, and only the bottom two feet were under the water level.

The blacksmith’s explorations pulled free first a handful of once white linen which he slung on the bank before his hand had closed around soft mutilated flesh. The body, what there was of it, turned the stomachs of the men on the bank. Jammed beneath the wheel by the force of the water it had been torn apart by the paddles. Stripped of flesh, ragged and smashed, it was recognisable only as being human.

A large hand grabbed Jack’s arm and fastened non-to-gently into his flesh and Dan dragged him from the bank near the mill pond and propelled him back to Burton.

 

 

 

†

 

 

 

Jack did not see Catherine again, when Dan had dragged him back to Burton they’d found Robert and his men gone, and they had taken her with them. He was uncomfortably aware of Alan’s presence amongst the men in the hall, but while some of the constable’s men still remained at Burton there was little he could do about it.

Jack took a seat at the dais and this time he did drink heavily. His mind was numb. Richard should have returned to London and stood trial and denied Elizabeth’s involvement in his schemes, but that had been undone. They had tried to kill him here instead, and prevent a trial, and he had died trying to escape. Perhaps it had been done on the Queen’s orders? Richard had received royal favours; such a trial would have been humiliating for the crown. Yes, there were more reasons to have him dead than allow him to stand trial. He could implicate too many people. Then there was Robert, he too had plenty of reasons to want his brother dead. Whatever had been the cause it didn’t matter anymore. Richard was dead.

God, Richard you lost this time.

The stakes were far, far too high and he had paid with his life.

Jack put his head back in his hands. He wanted to weep for the utter destruction of it. In the sword ring, he was sure he had seen in Richard’s eyes the request to end it there, but he had pushed that aside.

The table on which his eyes were locked bore no message of advice. He did not hear the door to the hall open, but he felt the coldness of the air it admitted on his face. His mind elsewhere, he paid no attention until he heard the light and uneven footfalls of a man limping towards the dais. Jamie moved forward until he was close enough for his words to be heard by Jack only.

“Get yourself up, lad,” Jamie said quietly. “Come on out of his room now before they see. Come on, follow me.”

Jack allowed Jamie’s bony fingers to prod him into mobility and he followed the priest blindly from the hall.

“Where’s your room?” Jamie said quickly.

Jack pointed and Jamie continued to push his charge down the corridor, up the stairs and finally through the door. Only when they were inside did he stop.

Jack stood in the room, arms wrapped around his body, shivering uncontrollably. Jamie moved and dragged a chair over until it was behind Jack.

“Sit down lad, come on.”

Jack didn’t move and Jamie was forced to push him into it. Jack fell forwards in the chair, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Soundlessly he sat there. Jamie sighed, shaking his head. He placed his hand gently under Jack’s chin and lifted his head, Jack looked blindly at him. Jamie’s fingers caught the chain around his neck and he pulled the cross from over his head. Turning Jack’s right hand over, he placed it in his palm and closed his fingers around it. The priest looked at him for a long time, then sighing, he busied himself building a fire in the darkened cold grate.

 

 

 

†

 

 

 

The day was fresh born when Jamie moved from in front of the fire and looked again at Jack. He had slept at last, slouched uncomfortably in the chair, the chain of the cross wound round his fingers. Jamie left the room and went in search of Dan. Unashamed he kicked several of the sleepers until he found the one he was looking for.

“Dan?” Jamie said quietly.

“What do you want,” Dan’s voice was thick with sleep and heavy with grief.

“Up with you. I’ve got to talk to you.” The man before him made no move to leave his cocoon of blankets. Jamie stooped lower. “Now. I have a message from your master.” The words were enough. “Come on, follow me.” Jamie led Dan from the hall, up the stairs he had pushed Jack up the night before until they were outside the room Jack slept in.

“What message have you? Tell me,” Dan said desperately, “did he escape?”

Jamie shook his head and Dan turned from him, both of his fists pounding into the wall behind him, a gasp of agony escaping his lips, his forehead against the stone. Jamie, although impatient, let him alone with his thoughts and mumbled through one of his longer prayers as he waited.

Finally, he placed a hand on Dan’s shoulder. “The message,” he said. He saw Dan with an effort gather himself and turn to face him.

“Go on, old man,” Dan said almost silently.

“He gave me this days ago, so you’d mark his words, if the time came,” Jamie produced a ring from one of his sleeves and handed it to Dan, who received it wordlessly. “It’s for Jack. He said you are to help him, and these are my words not his, he needs help.”

Dan turned the ring over in his hand. “Where is he?”

Jamie gestured to the door. Dan took a step towards it, but Jamie stopped him. “He’s your master now, you know that, don’t you?” Dan gave him a grim look.

Dan paused when he closed the door behind him, looking at the broken form in the chair. “Jack, I’m here to help you. If you don’t let me, you’ll be joining him soon. Now get out of there.” Dan’s words were brutal, and Jack sat there staring at him, the feeling of coldness still on him.

“Up, Jack, now. I served that man most of me life, knew him longer than you ever did. Now he wants you to take his place. Why, I don’t know, and I’ll not question him, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let you sit and feel sorry for yourself. You will get up and take his place, and if you do it badly, or not at all, I’ll kill you myself. Up!” Dan’s temper flooded his words, and Jack moved to comply, as he was meant to.

“He sent this for you.” Dan opened his palm and held out the ring. Jack carefully took it and held it up to the light. He made to slide it on his right hand, but Dan’s hand went out and snatched it back, “You’ll not put that on looking like the gutter whelp you do now.”

Jamie, satisfied, took his ear from the door and shuffled off.

By mid-morning, Dan, by a combination of verbal abuse, bullying, and physical blows, had managed to coax Jack back into the land of the living, giving him no time for his grief. Clothes were bundled up in his arms, and when Jack protested as he tried to leave the room with them, Dan threw them on the fire.

“You know you’ve got to make your mark with them today or you’re going to lose your place,” Dan said, still moving around the room, picking things up, discarding them again and moving on. “That cur Alan is here, you need to put down his challenge quickly.”

“Yes, I know that,” Jack sighed. He was fingering the single piece of parchment taken from Richard’s room that he had not burnt. Dan’s eyes rested on it.

“Mat’s with you, and me, which is a good start. I think you could have trouble with Gavin and John,” Dan said, “they both tried to take the Master’s life.”

Jack’s blue eyes were lit with a cold light at the mention of the names, they were a focus for the fury and temper burning in his chest.

The sun was low, the early darkness of autumn descending soon over Burton. Jack moved to a table where ale stood and reached for a cup. Dan intercepted his arm, “No, not tonight. You’ll need your mind clear to face them if you’re to make your mark.”

Jack turned his icy blue eyes on Dan. “I hear you.”

Dan watched him as he stared from the window. Finely dressed now, Jack looked much like Richard, apart from the stark contrast between black cloth and blond hair.

 

 

 

†

 

 

 

Evening came and the remaining group of Richard’s men were silent in the hall. Jack sat at the dais, where Richard had sat only days before, alone, shunned company.

A large quantity of beer stood on the table and Jack, who appeared drunk, did not move. The mood in the hall was expectant. The message had been passed of his brother’s death, and they knew Jack meant to take his place. The reactions had varied when he had appeared in the hall. Friend had become foe when they judged he tried to emulate the Master. Some pitied him; others saw a new light in his eyes and weighed the danger