‘You mean …?’ I began, but hesitated.
Timothy nodded. ‘There are certain Lancastrian supporters who have been casting around for another claimant to the throne. The Scottish king and his siblings are all grandchildren of James I’s queen, Joan Beaufort, who was herself a grandchild of John of Gaunt and his paramour, Lady Swynford. So you see, this quarrel between King James and his brothers set some of Henry Tudor’s disaffected supporters thinking.’
‘They could offer one of his brothers the chance of the English throne?’
‘Precisely. Now, whether Albany’s flight from Scotland was really because he thought his brother, the Earl of Mar, had been murdered and feared the same fate, or because he received an offer from across the water, no one’s yet sure. My guess would be both.’
‘But surely,’ I protested, ‘no one would give up a royal dukedom for the life of a puppet at the court of Brittany with no serious chance of ever inheriting the English throne? Everyone knows that King Edward has two sons to succeed him. Not to mention several daughters in a land that has no Salic law.’
Timothy smiled. ‘Probably not, if the offer of the crown was the sole inducement. But if Albany really is in fear of his life … That’s why I said my guess would be that he’s influenced by both considerations.’
There was silence for a minute or two, broken only by the chirping of a cricket hidden somewhere in the grasses. The white flowers of water hemlock nodded like stars at the end of their long, coarse stems.
‘Are you telling me,’ I asked eventually, ‘that you believe the Duke of Albany to be in hiding here, somewhere in Bristol?’ Timothy inclined his head. ‘But in Jesu’s name, why? Why would Tudor agents bring him west instead of taking him south or east? Plymouth, Dover, Southampton would be understandable. But here? It doesn’t make any sense.’
‘It makes perfect sense if one of the most reliable agents you have — and one, moreover, who is an ardent supporter of the faction now anxious to replace Henry Tudor with a healthier specimen — lives nearby. Elizabeth Alefounder not only resides at Frome, but also has — or, rather, had — a brother in Bristol with whom she could stay without raising any conjecture. As for Bristol itself, it’s a port, isn’t it, like any other? Ships from many countries sail up the Avon and anchor here with every tide. And it has the added advantage of throwing Albany’s pursuers off the scent. King James’s men, as I happen to know, are even now looking for him all along the east coast, thinking him bound for France.’
‘But the ship that came to fetch him away was Irish-owned, the Clontarf. Its captain, Eamonn Malahide, was an Irish slaver.’
Timothy looked annoyed.
‘Is there anything you don’t know? Anywhere where you haven’t poked that long nose of yours?’ Again, he shrugged. ‘I have no idea why Mistress Alefounder made that decision. Maybe because she found it easier to make arrangements with someone who spoke the same language. Well, spoke it after a fashion, that is! Then again, perhaps not. But whatever her reason, she seems to have picked the wrong man.’
I nodded. ‘So it would appear. He had a reputation among his own kind for avarice, and in pursuit of money would sell his services to two sides at once.’
Timothy heaved an even deeper sigh than before.
‘And how did you learn that?’ he asked resignedly.
‘I visited the Wayfarer’s Return in Marsh Street.’ Even Timothy knew enough about Bristol by this time to need no interpretation of this remark. ‘My guess is,’ I went on, ‘that Eamonn Malahide was to pick up his passenger — in all probability this Scottish duke — from the house at Rownham Passage, where Elizabeth Alefounder would pay him his money to carry the man to Brittany. But in fact, Malahide would have made him a prisoner as soon as he was far enough out to sea, and then sailed with him to Scotland where he would have returned the duke to his brother and collected a fat reward.’
Timothy stretched and yawned. ‘As fair an assessment of events as I could have made myself. You know, you really are wasted as a pedlar, Roger. You’re an educated man and have all the makings of an excellent spy. One who could even become Spymaster General when I decide to retire. You should accept Duke Richard’s offer of employment, then I could oversee your training.’
‘You work for the King.’
‘Not for much longer. I have asked permission to rejoin the duke’s household and His Highness has been pleased to grant my request. I shall ride north to rejoin Prince Richard as soon as this particular task is brought to a satisfactory conclusion.’
‘But you hate the north,’ I protested, ‘and I understand that His Grace rarely comes south since Clarence’s execution. They say his hatred of the Queen’s family is as strong as ever.’
‘True,’ Timothy admitted. ‘But I love that man and I miss him. I’m even willing to live amongst barbarians in order to serve him. So …’ He spread his hands and gave me a sheepish grin.
I knew what he meant. Richard of Gloucester had always exerted the same fascination over me. But, unlike my companion, I was not prepared to sacrifice either my independence or my passionate affection for my own strip of ground for the duke or for any other man. All the same, I was glad to know that the King’s brother would soon have one of his most loyal and ablest servants with him again.
‘So, what would be a satisfactory conclusion to this case?’ I asked.
‘To find the Duke of Albany and take him to London as a hostage for the English crown. Our spies in France tell us that King Louis is busy inciting King James to break the truce with England and begin raiding across the border again, which, of course, could eventually lead to a full-scale war. The Duke of Albany could prove to be a valuable bargaining counter in this dangerous game.’
‘And you’re sure that the duke is somewhere in Bristol, unlikely as that may seem?’
Timothy scratched his nose. ‘When Robin Avenel and his sister learned — from whatever source — that this Irish sea captain was going to betray Albany and carry him back to Scotland, they were left with the duke on their hands until they could arrange for another ship to take him to Brittany. They must have hidden him somewhere.’
‘Why didn’t they leave him in the Witherspoon house at Rownham Passage?’
Timothy pulled down the corners of his mouth. ‘That’s what makes me think that Silas Witherspoon is not of their way of thinking. That he’s still loyal to Henry Tudor. They didn’t dare risk him discovering the true identity of the man they were trying to get to Brittany.’
‘So, you assume they brought the duke back here and have kept him hidden ever since?’
‘Yes, until they can arrange to smuggle him aboard some other ship. And that could happen any day.’
‘How do you know it hasn’t happened already?’
‘To be honest with you, I don’t. Some of the Sheriff’s men have been keeping close watch on all the foreign ships tying up along the Backs, but there are so many of them, it’s impossible to stand guard over each one every minute of every day. But as long as I’m not certain that Albany’s gone, I have to stay and do what I can to intercept him.’
‘And if you were sure he’d gone?’
Timothy eased his thin buttocks against the hard ground. ‘I’d have to return to London and admit defeat to the King.’
‘Would he be angry?’
‘He may not be pleased,’ was the cautious reply. ‘But as I’m to leave Westminster soon, perhaps I’m not as afraid of His Highness’s displeasure as I might otherwise have been. Besides, my own guess is that Albany will himself tire of this charade. He must know very well that his chances of ever becoming King of England are extremely slight, if they exist at all. He’s probably just using Elizabeth Alefounder and her friends to find a way abroad that will fool his brother and all King James’s agents who are hot on his trail.’ Timothy got slowly and, I thought, a little painfully, to his feet. I realized suddenly that in the eight years since I had first met him, he had aged considerably. He stooped and laid a hand on my shoulder. ‘So if you hear anything you think I should know, Roger, I rely on you to tell me.’