With grave misgivings about the nature of the Earl’s future entertainment — and his determination to stroll around White Hall on this particular night — Chaloner followed him down the stairs. When his master started to take a route that would lead him directly across the middle of the Palace Court, he jumped forward to stop him, but the Earl pushed him away furiously.
‘How dare you presume to tell me where I can and cannot walk! I shall go where I please.’
‘Do not waste your breath, Thomas,’ whispered Haddon, watching the Earl weave off into the open with Turner at his side. ‘He is drunk, which means he will not listen to you or me. Unfortunately, he is listening to the colonel, who is almost as inebriated as he is, so cannot be relied upon to dispense sensible advice. I have a very bad feeling about this.’
‘He does not normally drink to excess,’ said Chaloner, setting off after them. ‘What happened?’
‘The Bishop of London sent him some wine,’ explained Haddon, trotting to keep up. He had grabbed a poker from the hearth before he had left the Earl’s offices, and was clutching it fearfully. ‘And he has been quaffing it all night. He gave me some, but I found it rather strong.’
Chaloner shook his head in disgust. ‘The Lord of Misrule will be behind this, providing a powerful brew in the hope that the Earl will commit an indiscretion — or be befuddled enough to walk out dressed in something other than red. He will lose his clothes, not to mention his dignity.’
‘Lord!’ exclaimed Haddon in alarm, glancing behind him. ‘You are right. Here they come!’
Upwards of thirty people had materialised from the shadows, and they began to converge on the Earl with hoots and jeers. They wore masks that concealed the top halves of their faces, although Chaloner recognised Brodrick, Buckingham and Chiffinch by their voices; the Lady he identified by her malicious grin. He pulled his sword from its sheath, wondering what he could do against so many.
‘Oh, dear,’ gulped the Earl, suddenly sober enough to appreciate the danger he was in. ‘They look as though they mean business. What shall we do?’
‘Draw,’ said Chaloner urgently to Turner. ‘They may think twice if they see they will not have him without a tussle.’ He glanced to where the colonel was standing with his mouth hanging open. ‘Tonight would be good.’
Turner fumbled with his scabbard. ‘Damn! I cannot get it out — the hilt seems to be jammed.’
Chaloner regarded him askance. ‘I thought you were a soldier! How can you have a broken sword?’
Turner edged behind him, and began to explain in a voice that was too low for the Earl or Haddon to hear. ‘I was not a soldier of the fighting variety. I was more of a strategist, performing behind the lines. Baking, for example. An army is nothing without its food.’
‘God help us!’ muttered Chaloner, thinking it was not a good time to find this out. ‘I thought you were wounded in the King’s service.’
‘I was wounded. Cooking is dangerous, especially if your assistant is in the habit of brandishing skewers when he is in his cups. Besides, everyone exaggerates what he did in the wars — do not tell me you were really at Naseby. You would have been too young.’
‘I need your help,’ said Chaloner, alarmed to see more courtiers flocking to join the mob by the moment. ‘I cannot protect the Earl on my own.’
‘I could try to reason with them,’ offered Turner, although not with much enthusiasm. ‘I am a solicitor, which means I am good at sly persuasion. When I first arrived in London, my intention was to practice law, but loitering around the Court was a lot more fun. Then His Portliness invited me to-’
‘Turner!’ snapped Chaloner. It was not the time to hear the man’s life story. ‘If you cannot draw, then be ready to pull the Earl to safety while I create a diversion. One the count of three. One, two-’
‘Wait!’ ordered Turner unsteadily. ‘We should think this through first. Give me a moment to …’
But it was too late. His hesitation had lost them the advantage, and the crowd surged around them.
‘You dare point weapons at the Lord of Misrule?’ demanded Brodrick. The Earl gulped audibly, and Haddon brandished his poker. Several courtiers laughed when they saw how much it shook. ‘And flout his edict that all should wear red tonight?’
‘We did not know about your decree, noble sir,’ lied Turner, taking several steps to distance himself from Chaloner. ‘But we shall fetch some crimson finery immediately. So, if you will excuse us-’
‘Your clothing is acceptable, colonel,’ declared Brodrick. ‘So you may join us. But your three companions must pay the price for their disobedience.’
‘And the Earl will pay for accusing innocent men of murder, too,’ hissed the Lady. ‘Poor Greene!’
Turner said nothing, and Chaloner saw he was seriously tempted to abandon his responsibilities and accept Brodrick’s invitation. While he dithered, Chaloner stepped protectively in front of their master. Unfortunately, the Earl chose that moment to lurch forward, and the resulting collision made him stagger. He flailed with his arms for a moment, desperately fighting for balance, but he had swallowed far too much wine, and his equilibrium was gone. He sat down hard, legs splayed in front of him. There was an astonished silence, and then Buckingham started to laugh. He had an infectious guffaw, and it was not many moments before the whole mob had joined in.
‘Come, friends,’ said Brodrick, putting his arm around the Duke’s shoulders and leading him away. ‘We have had our fun here, and I am bored. Let us find some other entertainment.’
In moments, the crowd was gone, skipping and cavorting around their Lord of Misrule, and singing a popular Christmas song. Lady Castlemaine looked disappointed that her enemy was not to suffer further abuse, but seemed to sense there was only so far Brodrick would go as far as his cousin was concerned. She was the last to leave, but leave she did.
‘I shall never forgive you for this, Chaloner,’ snarled the Earl, as Turner helped him to his feet. ‘You pushed me deliberately, to make me a laughing stock. Consider yourself dismissed — and fortunate that I do not send you to the Tower for … for treason!’
‘He was trying to save you,’ said Haddon quietly. ‘He could not have fought all those courtiers single-handed, and would almost certainly have been killed. But he was ready to do it anyway.’
Something in the rational tone of his voice penetrated the Earl’s drink-sodden mind, and most of the rage drained out of him. He sighed wearily.
‘Take me home. I shall reconsider my position in the morning.’
As soon as the Earl was safely inside Worcester House, Turner headed back towards White Hall, obviously intending to rejoin the revelries. Chaloner walked Haddon to Cannon Row.
‘Brodrick would have tried to stop the horde from attacking us,’ the steward said. ‘But Buckingham and Chiffinch are not the kind of men to take orders from him, Lord of Misrule or no. There would have been blood spilled tonight if the Earl had not fallen when he did — and, as far as I am concerned, his dignity is a small price to pay for our lives.’
‘The Earl does not think so,’ said Chaloner, wondering whether he was going to be unemployed sooner than he had anticipated.
‘He will in the morning, when he is sober and has had a chance to reflect on what happened. I was singularly unimpressed by Turner’s performance, though. For two pennies, he would have stepped over to Brodrick, and abandoned us. But I am glad we survived the encounter. What would my dogs do without me? Who would sing them to sleep at night?’
‘You sing them to sleep?’ Chaloner shot him an uneasy glance.
‘The darlings would not have it any other way.’
The incident in the Palace Court had unsettled Chaloner, and even an energetic session in Hannah’s bed did not calm him. He dressed while she slept, and slipped out into the night. He prowled restlessly, a silent shadow that no one noticed. Just before dawn broke, he went to the address Haddon had given him on Petty France, but was informed that Meg had not returned home the previous evening. Her housemate did not seem unduly concerned, and said Meg often stayed out all night when she had a man.