‘Someone sent Bristol a letter listing nine men who are supposed to have murdered Webb,’ said Chaloner. ‘Have you heard any rumours about who might have penned it – and why to Bristol?’
‘Yes, actually,’ said Scot, nodding keenly. ‘Ever since Eaffrey and I tumbled to the fact that the Dillon mentioned by your beggar is none other than the Dillon convicted of murdering the Guinea Company man, we have been asking questions on your behalf, gathering information. The letter that saw Dillon indicted has given rise to all manner of speculation in the city, but although there are rumours galore – including one that says Bristol wrote it himself – no one knows for certain who penned it.’
‘Why would Bristol write it himself?’
‘He would not,’ replied Scot, stabbing the dressing as hard as he could in an effort to crack it. ‘It is malicious slander, which originated with Brodrick.’
‘And I heard that Adrian May was the author,’ said Eaffrey, ‘because the grammar and spelling were poor, and everyone knows he is an uneducated ignoramus.’
There was a sudden snapping sound, and Scot hissed in exasperation. ‘I cannot get this damn thing off, and now I have ruined my best dagger. What did Wiseman use to make it? Stone?’
‘Let me,’ said Eaffrey, elbowing him out of the way. She inspected the bandage and regarded him in astonishment. ‘All that huffing and puffing, and you have barely made a dent!’
Scot glared at the broken tip of his knife. ‘It was not for want of trying.’
Chaloner took the weapon from him, appalled that Wiseman’s splint should be capable of damaging such good-quality steel. ‘I am sorry. Take mine.’
Scot shook his head. ‘You may need it. I hear Eaffrey’s future husband has taken against you.’
‘Johan does not go around attacking people,’ protested Eaffrey, bending over Chaloner’s arm. ‘May might, though, while Bristol would not pass up a chance to remove his rival’s spy, either. You have more enemies in White Hall than William and I put together, Tom, which is impressive – you have not been home a week.’
Chaloner sighed, thinking he had never been so unpopular in Holland – and that was an enemy state. He thought about Scot’s brother. ‘Have you heard a date for Thomas’s release yet?’
Scot’s expression was troubled. ‘They keep coming up with legal reasons for the delay, and I do not know enough law to tell whether they are real, or just excuses.’
Chaloner gave him Leybourn’s address. ‘He sells legal books. Ask him to look it up for you.’
Eaffrey threw up her hands in disgust. ‘I cannot break this splint, either. Wiseman is famous for his experiments, and I think he might have just performed one on you. I suspect you are stuck with this thing until he agrees to remove it himself – which may cost a lot, given that he claims he is short of money at the moment. How are your current finances?’
‘Not good,’ replied Chaloner ruefully. ‘Clarendon keeps forgetting to pay me.’
‘We have broken into houses, fortresses, offices and halls, and escaped from all kinds of prisons,’ said Scot, emptying his purse on the table. He did not seem much better off than Chaloner. He shoved the coins towards his friend, but Chaloner pushed them back, not liking to borrow money when he did not know when he would be able to repay it. ‘Yet we are defeated by Wiseman’s glue.’
‘There is Johan,’ said Eaffrey, gazing to where Behn was looking around with two cups of wine in his meaty hands. ‘I should go, or he will think I dispensed him on an errand to be rid of him.’
‘You did,’ said Chaloner.
She pouted prettily. ‘Yes, but there is no reason for him to know it.’
Chaloner followed Scot and Eaffrey out of the Lord Chancellor’s office, but when he reached the garden, he found his way barred by Behn in one direction and May in another. He did not feel inclined to speak to either, so he retraced his steps and returned to the window seat. This time, he made sure he was concealed by the curtains as he stared down into the grounds.
The casement was still ajar, so he listened to snatches of conversation as people passed below. He saw Brodrick congratulating the musicians, one of which was Greeting, and heard them laughing together. Meanwhile, Temple was also strolling towards the consort, unwittingly following a path that would lead him straight to Brodrick. Chaloner recalled Scot’s tale about how Clarendon’s cousin had hit Temple with a candlestick, and did not imagine they could have much to say to each other – at least, nothing genteel. Sure enough, the toothless Temple baulked when he saw where his amble would take him, and started to change direction. Unfortunately, the lady accompanying him – an older woman, who wore yellow skirts and a fashionable mask that concealed the top half of her face – was determined to speak to the musicians. She resisted his tug on her arm, and then it was too late.
‘Good afternoon, Brodrick,’ said Temple stiffly. He raised one hand to his pate and rubbed it, although Chaloner could not be sure whether the gesture was intended to be a deliberate reminder of the incident at the Guinea Company dinner. ‘I trust you are well?’
Brodrick forced a smile. ‘Yes, thank you. I understand you gave my cousin a parrot. How kind.’
‘A green one,’ Temple’s expression darkened. ‘Unfortunately, Lady Castlemaine persuaded him to part with it before it could … ’
‘Could give him a fatal ague?’ finished Brodrick sweetly when Temple faltered. ‘The Lady told me some men are susceptible to them. However, I am sure that is not what you intended.’
‘No!’ cried Temple, genuinely shocked. ‘I had no idea birds could be dangerous, and I sincerely hope Lord Clarendon does not think I harbour murderous intentions towards him. Nothing was further from my mind.’
‘I am pleased to hear it,’ said Brodrick, beginning to move away. ‘Good day to you.’
But Temple grabbed his arm. ‘Since you are here and we are alone, there is a small matter I would like to discuss. As treasurer of the Guinea Company, it is my duty to collect subscriptions, and yours is outstanding. Perhaps you might … ’
‘You mention this at a Court ball?” asked Brodrick in distaste. ‘That is hardly gentlemanly, sir.’
Temple flushed. ‘You are a difficult man to track down at other times, and I cannot waste hours of my valuable time hunting you out. Will you oblige me with thirty pounds now?’
Brodrick bowed curtly. ‘Stay where you are and I shall fetch it. Do not move.’
He turned and hurried away, and Chaloner was amazed when Temple did as he was told. Personally, he would no more have expected Brodrick to return loaded with money than see the sun turn blue and drop from the sky. The politician and his lady had been loitering just long enough to know they had been tricked when they were joined by Bristol, who was clad in clothes so outdated that he looked like an actor from a theatre. They exchanged meaningless pleasantries, and a waft of onions drifted upwards. Chaloner wondered what the man did to make them hang so powerfully around him.
Eventually, Chaloner tired of watching courtiers – a complex social dance in which he understood too few of the steps – and decided to fetch his viol in readiness for Brodrick’s consort. He was about to leave, when the door opened and the Earl bustled in. He was flustered and unhappy, and waved Chaloner back down when he started to stand.
‘Do not disturb yourself, Heyden. Wiseman has been telling everyone how you narrowly escaped death at my hands. I hope you do not die – Thurloe will never forgive me.’