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

Mr Secretary’s black eyes rested on Poley’s. ‘Answer for him you shall. I hold you responsible. He must be here, under our gaze, for Ballard to find. As soon as Ballard is within our grasp we shall arrest him. But we shall not arrest Babington until we can net the whole crew, as I said. They must all be implicated. Even if Babington and Ballard are together the arrest of Ballard must appear a separate matter, with no mention of the plot. Therefore the arresting party will know nothing of it. They will be city officials and royal pursuivants armed with a warrant signed by Lord Admiral Howard. That said, I want our own eyes and ears there when it happens. All three of you’ – his glance swept across Poley, Frizer and Skeres – ‘are known or suspected of having worked for me. Indeed, it is the prospect of a meeting with me that keeps Babington attached to you, is it not, Mr Poley?’

‘He hopes that if he confesses all you will intercede with the Queen who will in return promise there shall be no persecution of Catholics.’

‘You must make sure he continues to believe that. It may be that we shall have to have you arrested, too, in order to deflect suspicion. As a temporary measure, of course.’ He turned to Christopher. ‘Mr Marlowe, you are not suspected of any association with me so I should be obliged if you would accompany the party to arrest Ballard, whenever it happens. May I trust you to do that?’ Mr Secretary often phrased his orders as requests but there was never any doubt as to which they were.

Christopher nodded. He looked pleased.

‘Thomas will alert you when it is to happen. You must make sure he knows where to find you at all times. During the arrest you say nothing unless you have to intervene. If Mr Poley is present, as is likely, you will not recognise him. So far as the arresting officers are concerned you are a servant of Lord High Admiral Howard, sent to ensure that the conditions of the warrant are complied with. You will observe Babington and any other conspirators closely and, if necessary, you should assure them that they are not in danger, that it is only the suspected priest you are after.’

The rest of the meeting comprised surveillance instructions for the other three. They were told they were under the command of Francis Mylles and Nicholas Berden, both already deployed on the ground. On our journey back downriver I asked Christopher if he was happy to be involved.

‘Grist to the mill.’

‘Will you make a play of it?’

‘Perhaps. The cause is just and it is an adventure.’ He glanced across the water. ‘What would I do, what would I not do? How far would any of us go in anything? Do we ever know?’

‘You are becoming Narcissus.’

‘But we are enjoined to know ourselves, are we not? Except you, Thomas. You do not seek to know yourself. Yourself does not interest you. That is true wisdom, perhaps.’ He smiled. ‘But you do seek to know the Widow Turner. And now you have reason to call again.’

C

HAPTER

S

IX

That happened sooner than I had thought. One of Lord Admiral Howard’s men roused me at my house before dawn the next morning, telling me I was to go to the Rose tavern at Temple Bar. There I would meet others outside the tavern and proceed to Master Poley’s lodgings nearby. The man clearly did not know why, nor did he know that it was actually Christopher who was to go there. Ballard must have risen to the Babington fly.

Finding my way to Widow Turner’s house in the dark was a hazardous undertaking. The sky lightened as I went, however, and the most fearful thing I witnessed were looming grey figures in the dawn in Holywell Street where some houses had been pulled down for rebuilding. They looked like ghosts assembling and alarmed me at first until I saw they were vagrants who had slept in the ashes of the bonfires to warm themselves. Two were sturdy beggars who made towards me until they saw I wore my sword. There are even more such fires and more new buildings in our city now, are there not, sir? Sometimes I imagine a terrible conflagration. We should be roasted as in the flames of Hell.

It was properly light when I knocked on Widow Turner’s door. I expected the servants to answer but eventually she herself called out to know who was there. It was another long wait until she unbolted the door. She wore a shawl and shift, her hair tousled and awry, and before I could explain my mission she began apologising for her appearance, saying she regretted I should see her so untidy. I dared not say I thought she looked most fetching.

She left me to wait in the panelled room while she found a maid to wake Christopher. When she reappeared she kindly offered me bread and sustenance and I was still declining, with genuine regret, when Christopher appeared. He too looked tousled, blinking through the shroud of sleep. I could not explain anything before Widow Turner but merely said we were summoned to our duties. As she closed the door upon us I fancied she gazed almost wistfully, but whether after Christopher or me I could not tell.

I could not participate in the arrest, of course, but walked part of the way with Christopher to Temple Bar, rehearsing what he should say or not say. Before we parted I bought us an apple each from a stall, then left for Whitehall and my numbers and ciphers.

They were ever a solace to me. I accept the necessity of action, of acting in the world, having been obliged to bestir myself more often than I desired. But it always felt like