A Fine Madness by Alan Judd (best classic books TXT) 📕

the moat that he was an apothecary authorised by the Court in London to provide the Queen with a list of herbs attainable in England to treat the various ailments she suffered. He was instructed, he said, to show the list first to Sir Amias Paulet, under whose charge she was. The guards sent a message to Sir Amias, who – discreetly primed by us – acknowledged that he was expecting this, said he was busy and ordered Curll to see to Gilbert.

Sir Amias was, of course, well primed for his part in this theatre. He was privy to all our machinations because we had to circumvent the very measures he put in place to guard the Queen and monitor all she did. But Curll knew nothing of it, of course. Gilbert was received by him, showed him the enciphered messages he had from Morgan which vouched for him as messenger, and passed him the packets of letters. He also gave him the list of herbs that was cover for his visit, saying he must be sure to show it to Sir Amias. Thus were Gilbert’s bona fides accepted and regular communications established.

But since it would be implausible for Gilbert to appear too often at Chartley under his apothecary’s cover, we had to find intermediaries who could be sent as messengers from him. So far as Curll was concerned, they did not know what they were delivering along with their herbs. Indeed, when we first did this the messenger genuinely did not know. He was one Barnes, cousin to Gilbert and a known and trusted Catholic, but he proved unreliable and disappeared back to France. Perhaps he suspected he was being used in ways he could not fathom.

We therefore sought people who knew what they were doing and whom we could trust. I suggested Christopher because he had some experience, was always anxious to earn more money and could be summoned from Cambridge at short notice.

He and I rode together to Burton-upon-Trent, near Chartley, where we were to stay at the inn and I was to introduce him to Gilbert. I remember little of the journey and almost nothing of what we talked about, though we must have talked much. There was probably something of Cambridge and of his play and poetry-making and inevitably something of Ovid. I could not for obvious reasons talk much of my own work, apart from the role he was to perform. I must have said something of myself, though, because I remember him turning in his saddle with a smile and saying, ‘Why do you want to marry? Because it is ordained? Or for purposes of increase?’

I said I would like a wife to be my companion and keep house for me and keep me warm at night.

‘You could hire a woman for that. You don’t need to marry. There are plenty who would keep you warm at night without benefit of clergy.’

It was true that many lived in such manner but I wanted to do it properly, to be blessed by the state of holy matrimony. I did not want my children to be bastards.

‘They’re often the interesting ones,’ he said.

‘And you? You too will surely marry when you can support a wife and children?’

He looked away. ‘Matrimony may be a state ordained and blessed by the good Lord but we are not compelled to it, are we? Jesus did not marry. Nor John.’

‘Do you not wish for companionship and the comforts of family? Children to support you in your old age?’

‘I have never desired increase.’

I remember no more of that conversation but I suspect he spoke truthfully. It is hard to imagine Christopher encumbered with wife and children. He was a solitary flame who burned brightly.

He had twice set eyes upon Gilbert, of course, in Paris and at Rye, but they had not met. When they did they got on well, even, by the end of dinner, teasing each other as if they were college friends. Gilbert had studied at universities in France and Italy and had an enthusiasm for ancient literature as well as philosophy. I had never seen Christopher so animated and understood now why he was popular with his fellow scholars, as I had heard. I felt like a fond father struggling, at times, to keep up. Except when it came to our business, when I had to take charge.

‘You must tell Christopher what he should say and what will happen when he is stopped at the Chartley moat,’ I told Gilbert. ‘And how he should speak to Curll.’

Gilbert leaned forward, elbows on the table, lowering his voice. ‘There will be two soldiers on your side of the moat. They are suspicious of strangers. I have herbs prepared you can carry in your bag and you must say you come from me, the apothecary, with herbs for the Queen of Scots to be delivered to the hand of Sir Amias Paulet. Sir Amias will depute Curll to receive them. When you are alone with him you pass Curll the letters I shall give you and receive from him any that the Queen is sending. You must say nothing about them, show no curiosity, act as if your main concern is the herbs and the letters are of no interest, nothing to do with you. Curll knows we have to devise a better means than these calls which already are beginning to attract attention. Last time one of the guards joked about the Queen of Herbs, she has so many now. But do not expect pleasantries from Curll. He is dutiful and wary and afraid of Sir Amias. They all are. He is a zealous guardian and the Queen complains of his harshness.’

I was not surprised to hear that. Having worked with Sir Amias when he was ambassador to Paris I knew him for a punctilious servant to our Queen and a dedicated enemy of the old religion. Like Mr Secretary, he had witnessed the massacres of Protestants in Paris.

Christopher