A Fine Madness Alan Judd (beach read book txt) 📖

That was the first sign I had that Christopher, for all his gentle airs and graceful speech, relished a fight. He used to excuse it by saying he had inherited his father’s temper. Maybe he had, but I think he also enjoyed it. He had the self-control to contain himself when he wished.

We were interrupted by the sounds of horses, harnesses and marching feet from the direction of Wantage. Christopher sprang up into the oak like a monkey, standing on the bough he and I had rested upon. ‘A lot of them, soldiers and burghers.’ He jumped down. ‘I must get back to the house.’

‘No. Stay here. If they see you they’ll take you for a sympathiser and arrest you.’

‘That’s what you want, surely? What we want, I mean. Proof I’m a loyal Papist so that Robin Noakes can ride again on Mr Secretary’s behalf, unlike that Frizer whom they will now know has betrayed them.’

I hadn’t realised that he saw himself as continuing in our service and wasn’t at all sure that Mr Secretary envisaged that. ‘You may be imprisoned or worse, especially if they find Campion there.’

‘Sir Francis will see me right, won’t he? You trust him, don’t you?’

I had never come across such youthful enthusiasm in an agent. ‘You’ve no idea what prison is like. You’re better off here, let the searchers do their work. You’ve done your job.’

‘I want to see it through.’ He ran off through the trees.

I assume, sir, that you do not need me to describe all the events of that night? They were much trumpeted at the time and are one of the events of the old Queen’s reign, along with the Armada and the more noble executions, that are spoken of still. I did not witness them myself, anyway, so could only summarise what I had from Christopher later.

Very well, sir, very well. It will add little to His Majesty’s knowledge of Christopher but if it is to the King’s purpose, so be it. But if I may say so, sir – if I may – a little more ale and sustenance would help. I grow weary in this close confinement, as perhaps you can see. Thank you, sir, thank you kindly.

Well, I hid in the tree until the soldiers had passed. I was tempted to creep through the trees again to spy on the house but I feared capture, having seen enough of soldiers when working in the Low Countries for Mr Secretary to know that explanations, subtleties, distinctions and fine judgements are of no account once swords are drawn. So I retreated to the inn.

Christopher did not appear until the following morning, exhausted and exhilarated and not smelling sweetly. ‘I feared you had been taken,’ I told him.

‘I feared for myself at times, but it helps to be of little consequence.’

He told me that the soldiers mounted guard around the house and the other armed men – about a hundred yeomen under charge of a magistrate – entered and searched it. They were at first gentle and reluctant since many were neighbours and the Yate family was well liked. The atmosphere changed when the sheriff’s man George Eliot joined them, armed with a warrant from Wantage. Frizer was with him. Eliot reinforced the yeomen with soldiers, urging them into every chamber, upending beds and furniture and banging on the walls with their hilts and shafts for sounds of hollowness within. But they found not the hair of a priest, and the magistrate, Justice Fettiplace who had accompanied them, apologised most graciously to Mrs Yate, making plain his relief at finding nothing.

But Eliot was not satisfied. He stood in the middle of the drawbridge with Frizer to prevent anyone leaving. In a loud voice he read a passage from his warrant which ordered searchers to make holes in internal walls and take up floorboards. One, a local man who could read, stood looking over his shoulder and objected that there was no such passage. Eliot ordered Frizer to have the man arrested as a Jesuit sympathiser and threatened ruin to Justice Fettiplace if he did not order another search. Fettiplace agreed on condition the man was released, which was done, and another search began, provoking Mrs Yate to wailing and weeping. After much destruction and while it was still going on, she took ill and begged she might be allowed to sleep. Justice Fettiplace agreed and she had a bed made up in an attic that had already been searched. A sentry was placed at the bottom of the stairs.

Christopher witnessed all this with his own eyes, as well as much of what followed, since he had cleverly connived with Mrs Yate and the cook to produce food and drink to mollify the weary searchers. He took it on trays to wherever the searchers were, so saw much of what was going on. Frizer, he said, put himself about everywhere, upstairs and down, goading men on, saying, ‘We know he’s here, I’ve seen him with my own eyes, we’ll find the Papist snake if we have to take the house apart. Not a mouse, not a rat will escape us.’ When Christopher politely offered him sustenance from his tray Frizer said gruffly, ‘I thought you’d be gone.’

‘I am with you always,’ Christopher replied quietly, making free with the words of Our Lord. He smiled when he told me this, saying it gave him as much pleasure to tease Frizer as to strike him.

They searched well into the night. The hammering and banging did not keep Jane Yate from her slumber, however, and gradually the noise ceased as the searchers wearied and the ale took effect. There were not enough candles to go round and many simply lay snoring on the floor where lack of light had stopped them searching. But not Christopher. He was suspicious that Mrs Yate had chosen to sleep in an attic room normally used by servants. Why should she not use her own?