‘No, no, not at all. Nothing,’ trembled Throckmorton. ‘Medicine, my lord, medicinal purposes only, I assure you. But I’ll confess, and I’ll write everything, if you help me get out of the country afterwards. Once the authorities know I’ve spoken, I’ll be killed as poor Thomas was. If not by some thug of Marrott’s, then executed by the crown. I must escape at once. Help me, and I’ll help you, my lord.’
Andrew stood abruptly and crossed to a small scrivener beneath the window. He retrieved two sheets of Italian cut paper, a quill, ink pot and sander. He then turned to the baron and pointed to the scrivener, set a little chair before it, and nodded to Casper. ‘Let him go,’ he ordered briskly. ‘Now, Harold. I shall watch as you write, so be very careful. Your confession must be comprehensive. I advise you to try and please me. It is, after all, your only chance now of leaving England alive.’
They sat together later that evening, Andrew, Tyballis and Casper, at the great trestle table at Cobham Hall. Several of the other lodgers had joined them. Felicia sat with Edmund and Walter both squashed upon her lap, and Ellen balanced on a high stool at her side. Widower Switt sat the other side of Ellen, as close as he dared while trying not to gaze into the child’s wide blue eyes too often. Opposite them sat Elizabeth. She kept her head down, but in the firelight her scars were thick and black and impossible to hide. Ralph sat beside her, one hand warm and protective on her knee.
‘You leave for the north, then?’ Mister Switt asked.
‘I will not ride to Middleham,’ Andrew said. ‘Yorkshire is too far, especially midwinter with the rivers flooded, bridges down and the fords impossible to cross. There’ll be snow in the north, and too great a danger of arriving so late that action will be taken against the king before the Duke of Gloucester can prevent it. I therefore intend taking Throckmorton’s confession directly to Lord Hastings.’
Ralph nodded. ‘Then you trust Hastings entirely, sir?’
‘I trust no one,’ Andrew sighed. ‘Many times not even myself. I trust no one at this table, nor any man at court, least of all the king himself.’
‘But it’s his highness we are working to save,’ Felicia objected. ‘What point then, if you think him such a poor monarch?’
‘As a monarch, our king is as good as most, and better than many if we are to believe what history tells us.’ Andrew drained his cup and signalled to Casper to refill it. ‘Edward has made England prosperous. He’s clever and cunning, he manipulates, keeps his secrets well hidden, and understands the propaganda of popularity. I’d choose no other king, save maybe his brother. But in his private life he’s proved himself a fool more often than wise. Many before Edward have been governed by lust and temper, but foolish behaviour in private also leads to disastrous mistakes in public.’
Felicia sniffed. ‘Even from you, Mister Cobham, that’s a shocking thing to say. We aren’t here to judge the Lord’s own anointed sovereign. Criticism is treason.’
‘Then don’t listen,’ Andrew said. ‘Your opinion of my opinion is of as little consequence to me as mine is to the king. He’ll not suffer from what I think of him, but will hopefully benefit from what I decide to do. Sadly the king has been unwise enough to disparage Hastings’ warnings. Throckmorton’s confession may at least force his grace to rethink.’
Tyballis said quietly, ‘If you go to court, Marrott will be watching for you. It’ll be dangerous.’
Elizabeth looked up quickly. ‘I could go. With this fancy gown you brought me, I reckon I’d look the part.’ Andrew did not answer and the pause lengthened. Each face turned to her in awkward silence. Finally Elizabeth hung her head. ‘Ain’t no need to say it. I know folks will stare. I ain’t no lady, and now it’s not the gown what’ll matter, it’s the face. But with a cloak and a hood …’
Andrew said, ‘A solitary woman may gain admittance to Hastings’ chambers, but she’d simply find him between her legs, and he’d listen to nothing else. No, this time I play my part alone. Being late, I shall attend court tomorrow morning. In the meantime, I need to get Throckmorton out of the country.’
‘It hardly seems,’ widower Switt shook his head, ‘that his lordship merits your efforts.’
‘T’were up to me, I’d have had me knife up his arse and done him in before now,’ snorted Casper, ‘and watch him gurgle afore slinging him in the river.’
‘I intend keeping my word,’ Andrew said, ‘since I may later require him as a witness.’ He turned to Ralph. ‘I know the ship and have spoken to the captain. Will you take it on?’
Ralph nodded. ‘It’s been settled between me and Davey. Davey’s upstairs getting the cloaks. Had his own stolen, though won’t admit it. Well, a thief’s got his pride, after all. So, I’ve borrowed Luke’s for him to wear, since he’d never ask Luke himself.’
Tyballis turned to Andrew. ‘But about the arsenic you took off Perryvall. You told Throckmorton you’d dropped it all into the water. But Drew, to throw medicine – and you said it is poisonous – where people drink?’
Andrew smiled. ‘Throckmorton had to believe the arsenic destroyed, my love. But in truth I have a far better use for it.’
Ralph and Davey had still not returned when Andrew set off the next morning for Westminster. Tyballis had spent the night in his arms, and now stood at the doorway to watch him go. Andrew stayed a moment on the worn threshold and kissed her lightly. ‘Sadly you cannot come with me, my love, or risk meeting Marrott.’
‘I know. And I promised to obey you.’
‘Should I trust your promises, when I trust no other?’
She laughed. It was cold and her bare feet nearly froze to the step, but she wore Andrew’s black damask bedrobe and was warmly snuggled inside. ‘I let you use me yesterday at the docks,’ she reminded him. ‘There was some risk, wasn’t there? It could have been dangerous. But I trusted you.’
‘There was no risk at all, my own.’ He kissed her again, this time gently on the cheek. His lips were sweet and moist and warm against her skin. ‘When I fish,’ he said, ‘I protect my bait, or cannot fish again.’
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Tyballis stood by the window in Elizabeth’s chamber, washing what remained of the glass. ‘There’s a thick mist at ground level, and this house pops up like a little island. From Luke’s attic it must look quite magical.’
‘Tybbs, my dear,’ Felicia sighed, looking up from her bucket and mop, ‘you have such odd fancies. But there is still a great deal of work to be done if Elizabeth is to move back today.’
‘I told you already,’ Elizabeth insisted, ‘it’s of no account to me. If I want my room back, which I do, then I’ll take it as it always was, and no need for all this scrubbing. It didn’t do me no harm before, though I’d not object to a softer mattress.’
‘Nat will bring you the promised new bed up from Drew’s study as soon as Ralph and Davey are back home to help him,’ Tyballis said. ‘Nat can’t carry it all on his own and Jon is presumably asleep.’
Felicia nodded, bending back to the bucket. ‘Gyles, you know, has been fractious and a little unwell and kept us awake most of the night. Jon is exhausted, poor soul, and now he’s watching over the babies while Ellen and I help here.’
‘Humph,’ muttered Ellen. ‘Watching eyes shut. Just like Pa did when that mean piggy ate my fingers.’