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

for men to support Northumberland, and hence marks himself as the Duke’s man. He has high hopes of advancement and will not allow me, or the requirement to hand over a quantity of gold to keep his treasonous intent secret, stand in his way.”

“Do I gather from this that Harry knows not of your employer?” Jack smiled. So, Richard would play with poor Harry then. Well, a more deserving recipient for Richard’s temper and acid tongue he could not think of, the only sorrow being he was not likely to witness the meeting.

“He is not likely to, at least not in the immediate future. Byrne is a worried man who hedges his bets considerably. We are to leave London in three days and take ourselves to his manor, there to wait further instructions. He wishes to keep us out of sight until required so half the men will work as labourers, six will join his household, including us, and the rest will take up residence in the village. He wishes to lend a small help should Northumberland take the day, but should he lose, he needs to be able to cover his tracks and wants not an army camped in his fields, drawing the stares of all.”

An evil grin settled on Jack’s face as he saw now how Harry could be deceived.

Richard continued. “So, we shall be safely hidden from view, and undoubtedly Harry will try to track me down, but unfortunately he will not be able to find me. Byrne is not likely to admit to my existence and we shall temporarily vanish into England’s green fields.”

“Whatever you ask for from Harry, add ten extra pieces to it for me.” Jack was grinning broadly.

“You will understand now why I ask you to keep yourself out of sight until we leave,” Richard was serious again.

“Aye, don’t worry; it will be worth a few days of boredom if you can get this over on that bastard,” Jack replied a little too quickly. Richard raised his eyebrows slightly as Jack bestowed on Harry his own title for the second time that evening. “How do you know all this? How did you find out where Harry is?”

Richard bestowed a look on Jack that told him instantly that he would not receive an answer to that question. Instead he said, “So, as you can see, I have not been lazing here as you suspected.” Richard had a malicious smile on his face.

“Well, you act like it,” Jack’s words filled the silence, which was uncomfortable to only one of them.

“Possibly. But I am supposed to be idle, rich, careless, carefree, frivolous… Have I missed anything? Ah yes, you think I spend too much as well,” Richard added. “Whatever opinion you hold of me, I mind not, but I do mind when you share it so freely.”

Jack took the rebuke silently. Richard’s voice told him of the danger that lounged before him, a danger that bitter experience had taught him to avoid. “You’ve made your point,” Jack avoided his brother’s gaze by studying the frayed stitching on the inside of his left boot.

“Ah well, enough of me.” Richard’s tone was light again, “So, how did you spend your evening? See anything of any interest?” Richard turned the subject to a fresh track, much to Jack’s unconcealed relief.

“The only one I saw clearly was an old man, grey hair at the front,” Jack indicated where he meant with his hand. “Looks like a bloody badger; about your height, well fed. He called for a carriage; I didn’t see how many boarded. Three others went to the inn soon after you, didn’t look the normal type to go to such a place, two left drunk. I don’t know where the third went.”

“Anyone else watching?” Richard asked.

“Yes, but I didn’t see them. The old man stuck his head out of the door and a carriage turned up,” Jack’s tone was apologetic.

“Would you recognise any of them again?” Richard asked.

“The old man. It was too dark to see the others clearly,” Jack was shaking his head.

“The old man was Lord Byrne, if you’re interested,” Richard supplied.

“Looks a right nervous type,” Jack observed.

“He is. Just got himself a young wife. He has no desire to embroil himself too deeply in plots.” Richard reached for a book that lay closed on the desk; the conversation was finished.

He did not look up as Jack left.

 

†

 

Richard had come to know of Harry’s activities through his recent revival of a network of which he had been a part before he left England. At the age of fourteen, Richard Fitzwarren had been placed by his father in Thomas Seymour’s household. Seymour, ever ambitious, would eventually marry Henry VIII’s widow. However, long before that, he was involved in all kinds of intrigue, often knowing what the powerful would do before they had even made up their own minds on a course of action. Over the years, he had developed a network of informers and spies the length and breadth of the country: well-paid and reliable sources supplying him with useful information. Richard had worked for him, originally as a scribe, but eventually condensing communications and reporting directly to Seymour on information received. Seymour did more than that; many of those who wrote to Seymour or visited on a regular basis became well acquainted with Richard Fitzwarren and knew him as Seymour’s man. So, when he returned to England’s shores it had taken only a short time to renew some of these links. Seymour was now gone but his old informants were largely still in place and were delighted by the prospect of increasing their earnings once more. Richard had little else he could use to change his fortune. He would have to use what information he could, where he could, and take what opportunities it offered.

 

†

 

The knock he made on the door of The Angel in Aldergate was answered quickly. It was opened by a burly man, darkly dressed, and with a broad belt containing a wide bladed knife. His forearms were bare, heavily muscled and darkened with hair, and the knuckles on the hand that held the door open were whitened with scars. His face cracked into a wide grin showing a mouth of broken and missing teeth.

“Master Fitzwarren, it’s good to see you,” the man said in welcome, his voice bearing a peculiar whistle leant to it by two missing canines.

Richard returned his smile as he stepped over the threshold of London’s most prestigious brothel. “It’s good to see you looking to so well Nathan.”

“Mistress Nonny will be pleased to see you,” Nathan said as he opened a second door and light from the interior flooded into the small darkened entranceway where they both stood.

“It will be good to see her as well. Perhaps a game of cards later? I believe you owe me the opportunity of a win?” Richard said pleasantly.

Nathan laughed, “Anytime you like, I shall go easy on you.”

“Maybe I have improved,” Richard shot back grinning.

“Not while you’ve a hole in your arse Master Fitzwarren,” Nathan laughed, “but I shall let you know if you have.”

Richard clapped the man on the shoulder and stepped into the welcoming bright and warm embrace of the Angel. In a room to the right were a number of girls, their painted faced belying their profession and their clothing loose and arranged in attractive disarray. All of them had their attention fastened on him and sent him winks and smiles from where they lounged on chairs and cushions, their pale skin lit by the firelight.

They, however, were not the reason for his visit, and his attention was taken by the woman advancing towards him down the corridor. Madame Nonny; large, French, powdered with a heady perfume that surrounded her like an almost tangible presence, had her arms open wide and a genuine smile upon her face.

“Richard! A pleasure, where have you been my pretty?” In a moment she had her arms around him and Richard returned her welcoming embrace.

“I have been, Madam, to many places,” Richard pulled her even closer, her scent heady and one that turned the pages in his mind back years.

“And without even a goodbye, I should scold you,” Nonny said pulling back in his arms slightly.

“And if you did I would not mind,” Richard said, his eyes smiling. “I have, of course, brought you a gift.”

A wide smile appeared on her face and her artfully painted brows arched in delight, “Well then, let us not delay, come can show me and tell me everything you have been doing.”

Nonny pulled from his arms, exchanged a few brief words with Nathan that he did not hear, and then taking his hand in one of her pale white plump ones lead him down the corridor towards her own private quarters.

The rooms were a reflection of their owner. Sumptuous, extravagant and heaped with expensive trappings from the Turkish rugs on the floor to the hand stitched Breton hangings adorning the walls. Large fat candles burned in holders casting a warm glow around the room and the fireplace added its own dancing orange light to play across the floor.

Seated next to her Richard took her hand in his and deftly slid his gift into her palm. The broach he gave her was unmistakably French in design, and her eyes widened at the sight of it. The cornflower blue of the petals was intricately picked out in a shining blue enamel bordered with gold. The centre of the broach held a sapphire. It was both extravagant and expensive.

A moment later the door opened and glasses, wine, and sweet meats were set before them on the dark rosewood table. Both of them waited patiently until the servant had closed the oak door behind him and the latch clicked securely back into place.

“Oh I have missed you mon cher.” Nonny leant across and planted a slow and deliberate kiss on his cheek.

“Has your life been so boring without me?” Richard replied, taking his glass from the table.

Nonny seemed to consider it for a moment. “Boring perhaps but fraught no. London is a difficult city to live in at the moment. I have good patronage and many friends, but the price of their support is high.”

Richard gestured around the room with the hand that held the glass, noting with mock seriousness, “Madam, it does indeed look as if you are suffering!”

Nonny regarded him with eyes the colour of chestnuts and said in a serious voice, her hand running down the soft material of his sleeve. “I am not the only one who has an appreciation of finery, am I?”

“And long may we both be able to appreciate it,” Richard replied smiling.

It was an hour later when they had traded their news that Richard put a question which produced a smile on his hostess’s face.

“Does my brother still remain one of your clients?”

“Unfortunately, he does. Only last week his losses at cards were more than he could afford and he could not settle his debts. Nathan had to intervene, it was…unpleasant.” She turned the broach over in her hand, then lifting her eyes from it she met Richard’s, her expression deadly serious. “I would rather he stopped passing through my doorway. He is a cruel man but, unfortunately, well connected.”

Richard nodded. “I understand. I am in London only for a few more days, but when I return I will dissuade him, I promise.”

Nonny’s smiled brightened immediately. “Good. Our business is concluded, and I am