‘I am not a traitor,’ said Chaloner tiredly, supposing that guilt or innocence would not matter now someone like Downing had discovered his identity. He would be used like Barkstead had been – to ‘prove’ to the King that Downing was a loyal subject who exposed dissenters.
Downing regarded him thoughtfully. ‘Then you should choose your friends with more care. I tried to help you – to warn you against meddling where you are not welcome – but you insisted on ignoring my advice, and now you must pay the price. You have only yourself to blame for your misfortunes.’
Chaloner raised his hands in a shrug. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about. However, while you dislike traitors, I dislike murderers, and you killed Dalton. You went to his house and discussed his business with him. What did he do? Jibe you about his superior contacts?’
Downing regarded him in disbelief. ‘What?’
‘You stabbed him and left him to burn.’ Downing had a sword and a dagger, and Chaloner wondered whether he would be able to reach the knife in his boot if the diplomat turned violent.
‘You have a fertile imagination, Chaloner! I did visit Dalton today, but I assure you he was alive when I left. He was fiddling with the gunpowder he keeps in his house, and I imagine that is what caused the fire. If he was stabbed, then it had nothing to do with me.’
He spoke with such conviction that Chaloner began to waver. Then a thought occurred to him. ‘You left through the front door. You were seen by Kelyng’s men.’
‘Ha!’ said Downing. ‘There are your culprits. Bennet is dizzy with outrage, because Robinson’s daughter has refused him a second time. If he was lurking near Dalton’s house, then he will be your culprit. And, yes, I left through the front door. I am not a servant, to slink through the back.’
But the front door had been barred, because Chaloner had failed to break it down, and that meant someone had secured it after Downing had left. Dalton could have done it, but Chaloner did not think a man playing with gunpowder would have blocked a means of escape.
‘Live,’ he said, his thoughts tumbling ahead of him. ‘Dalton said “live” when we found him. I assumed he meant he did not want to die – that we should save him because he told us where Sarah was, and he thought we owed him something – but that was not it. I think he was saying Livesay – the man he claims to have seen recently, and who seems to have driven him into such a panic.’
Downing shrugged. ‘It is possible that Livesay visited him after I left. I know the fellow is alive, because I had a letter from him yesterday. It came as something of a surprise, since I have always believed North’s tale that he died in an explosion.’
‘Have you seen him?’
Downing pulled a letter from his pocket. ‘No, he communicated in writing. How do you think I know your real name at last? Thurloe would have died before letting that slip.’
Chaloner was bewildered. ‘Livesay told you? But I have never met him. Why should he be party to such information?’ He wondered how well Livesay had known his uncle.
Downing gave an enigmatic smile, which suggested he did not have an answer, either. ‘I know all manner of damaging facts now – I know the identities of the men who formed an organisation called the Seven; I know Praisegod Swanson was murdered by Barkstead in the Tower; and I know the Brotherhood was established by Thurloe to conceal what the Seven were doing.’
Chaloner’s heart sank for his old patron, although he fought to hide his unease from Downing. He tried to sound sceptical. ‘Livesay has been sentenced to a traitor’s death. Fear of capture has led him to imagine all manner of conspiracies that do not exist.’
‘I have no reason to disbelieve him. I joined the Brotherhood because I support peace, and I am appalled to learn that my honourable intentions might have seen me associated with treason. The same is true for the others who have nothing to do with the Seven – North, Robinson and Leybourn, to name but a few. But thankfully, Livesay has seen the folly of his ways, and has told me everything.’
If he had suspected that Downing was after him, then it was small wonder Dalton had been terrified, thought Chaloner. ‘What else did Livesay tell you?’ he asked, still trying to sound dubious.
‘That the two surviving members of the Seven – Ingoldsby and Thurloe – will kill the King.’
Chaloner gaped at him, then laughed in genuine disbelief. ‘They will not!’
Downing raised his eyebrows. ‘You would say that. Perhaps you plan to help them, and take up your uncle’s mantle. Your family always were fervent Parliamentarians, and I cannot believe I harboured one under my roof all those years.’
‘At the time, you were a fervent Parliamentarian yourself.’
Downing regarded him with dislike. ‘But I saw reason and changed sides. However, you hark back to a regime that no longer exists, and so do Thurloe and Ingoldsby. Why do you think Dalton died? He was playing with gunpowder – no doubt making explosive devices with which to assassinate the King – and one must have ignited and set the house ablaze. It was divine justice at work.’
‘Why would Livesay tell you all this?’ demanded Chaloner, still far from convinced.
‘Because he is attempting to buy his life. He offered the information in exchange for a pardon, and I accepted on the King’s behalf. Of course, when he comes to collect his reward he will be in for a shock – I do not negotiate with traitors. When he accuses me of false dealing, I shall point out that it is his duty to expose plots that harm the King, and that he should not have sought recompense for what should have been freely given. Everyone will agree with me.’
‘As they did when you arrested Barkstead? That made you the most despised man in Britain.’
Downing’s expression was dangerous. ‘I did what was right with those damned regicides. But I have wasted enough time here. I am going to give Livesay’s letter to Clarendon, and put an end to this treachery once and for all.’
‘You would betray your friends? Members of your Brotherhood? Again?’
‘I have no friends – it is safer that way. Besides, only a fool turns a blind eye to plots these days.’
In a smooth, sinuous movement, he unsheathed his dagger, just as Chaloner, seeing the blade, twisted to one side. Chaloner staggered, then slumped to his knees, gripping Downing’s arm.
‘I am sorry,’ said Downing, trying to free his hand. People were beginning to stare. ‘But when I go to the Lord Chancellor, there will be a frenzy of arrests and hangings. It is better you die now.’
‘Better for you,’ gasped Chaloner, slipping further towards the ground.
‘Better for you, too,’ said Downing, tugging away from him. Chaloner could tell from the earnestness in his voice that he believed it. ‘You would not have thanked me for leaving you alive.’
When Chaloner finally crumpled, Downing sheathed his dagger and walked briskly away.
Chapter 12
When Downing’s footsteps had receded, Chaloner climbed to his feet, ignoring the astonished stares of people who thought they had just witnessed a murder. He brushed himself down and set off in pursuit, grateful but not surprised that Downing had not bothered to check his victim was dead before leaving the scene of his crime. He had predicted the way the discussion would end as soon as Downing had spoken his real name, and had been ready for an attack. He had let the blade pass harmlessly under his arm, and grappling with Downing as he had slumped to the ground had been designed to ensure the man did not notice a lack of resistance when he tugged his weapon from the ‘body’. It was another trick learned from Thurloe, and not the first time he had used it to his advantage.