“Many more would have died had war resumed properly, but that would not save Mordaunt if the details of this transaction were known. The trouble is that this young man Prest-cott is trying to prove his father innocent, and must inevitably prove Mordaunt guilty if he is to succeed, for he has been told enough to know who was really responsible. Then it would be assumed that Clarendon gave Mordaunt his orders.”

“Did he?”

Thurloe smiled. “No. The king gave them himself. But Clarendon would accept the blame to save His Majesty from criticism. He is a good servant, and better than this king deserves.”

“Prestcott knows of all this?”

“Not exactly. He is convinced that Mordaunt was a traitor, acting on his own behalf. I have encouraged him in his belief that Samuel Morland was in league with him.”

“This gets ever more bizarre,” I commented. “Why did you do that?”

“For the obvious reason that otherwise he would have acted on his belief in my responsibility and slit my throat. You might, incidentally, do me the service of seeing Samuel next time you are in London and warning him that this young man has decided to kill him.”

“And you say someone has been helping Prestcott?”

“I believe so,” Thurloe replied.

“Who?”

“He is too cunning to say unless the price is right.”

“His testimony is worthless in any case,” I said, furious that the little wretch dared bargain with me, and on such a matter.

“In a court? Of course it is. But you understand politics better than that, doctor.”

“What does he want?”

“Proof of his father’s innocence.”

“I do not have it.”

Thurloe smiled.

I grunted. “I suppose there is no reason why I should not promise him anything he wants. Once I have his testimony, of course…”

Thurloe wagged his finger at me. “Indeed. But do not take him for a fool, sir. He has some wit, even though I doubt his sanity. He is not a trusting man, and wants an indication of your good will first. You do something for him, he will reciprocate. He does not trust anyone.”

“What does he want?”

“He wants charges against him abandoned.”

“I doubt I could accomplish that. My relations with the magistrate are not such that he will readily do me any favor.”

“You do not need one. Mr. Prestcott is willing to provide damning evidence that some woman called Blundy murdered this man Grove. I am not certain how he came by it, especially as you tell me fhis Italian was responsible. But we must use such opportunities as we are given. It should be possible to persuade the magistrate that a certain conviction in a murder case is better than a possible conviction in one of assault. Her trial means his freedom, and cooperation.”

I stared at him uncomprehending, before realizing he was perfectly serious. “You want me to connive in judicial murder? I am not an assassin, Mr. Thurloe.”

“You do not need to be. All you have to do is talk to the magistrate, then keep your silence.”

“You never did such a wicked thing,” I said.

“Believe me, I did. And gladly. It is the servant’s duty to take sin onto his own shoulder so that his prince may remain safe. Ask Lord Clarendon. It is to safeguard good order.”

“That is, no doubt, how Pontius Pilate consoled himself.”

He inclined his head. “No doubt he did. But I think the circumstances are different. It is not, in any case, as if you do not have an alternative. This woman does not have to die. But you would not then find out who is sponsoring the Italian. Nor would you have that much chance of bringing him to trial. But I sense you want more than this.”

“I want Cola dead, and I want those who brought him here destroyed.”

Thurloe’s eyes narrowed as I said this, and I knew that the intensity of my reply, the hatred in my voice had let him see too much. “It is unwise,” he said, “in matters such as this, to be swayed by sentiment. Or by a desire for revenge. By grasping too much, you may lose everything.” He stood up. “And now I must leave you. I have delivered my message, and given my advice. I am sorry that you find it so hard, although I understand your reluctance. If I could persuade Mr. Prestcott to be more reasonable, then I would certainly do so. But he has the pig-headedness of youth, and will not be swayed. You, if I may say so, have some of the same qualities.”

11

I prayed for guidance that night, but no word of help or comfort came to me; I was entirely deserted and abandoned to my own indecision. I was not so blind as to forget that Thurloe undoubtedly had his own reasons for intervening, but I did not know what these might be. Certainly, he would not avoid deceiving me if he felt it necessary. He had few powers left, and I fully expected him to use those that remained.

At the very least, I felt I should keep open all possible courses, and a few days later I spoke to the magistrate who immediately placed Sarah Blundy under arrest. As she had already been questioned it was natural that she would be afraid and I did not wish anything to be rendered impossible by her precipitate flight. Had she run, she knew more than enough people to give her refuge, and I would have had little chance of ever finding her again.

By that stage Cola had gone on his medical tour with Lower. I was furious when I heard of this and immediately feared that his expedition might be the culminating point of his conspiracy, but Mr. Boyle reassured me when he informed me in a letter from London that the Lord Chancellor did not intend to leave for his country estate for another few weeks. My nightmare of an imminent ambush on the London road, the coaches ravaged and all blamed on old soldiers turned highwaymen, ebbed away from me, as I realized that Cola must bemerely filling in idle time as he waited. Perhaps, indeed, Thurloe was right, and Cola was in England only for employment if a more peaceable attempt to unseat Clarendon failed.

Moreover, I was glad of the breathing space the knowledge gave me, for I had momentous decisions to make and was about to embark on a course which would either bring me to ruin, or would pull down one of the great men in the land—this is not something anyone does with a light heart.

So in that peaceful week in which Cola traveled the countryside (I understand that his account is again accurate in some details, for Lower told me that he labored with diligence among his patients) I considered all the possibilities which lay before me, went over all the evidence indicating my conclusions about the dangers this man Cola posed were correct. And I could see no fault in them, and defy anyone else to doubt them either—no innocent ever acted in such a guilty fashion. Apart from that, I renewed my assault on Sarah Blundy, for I thought that if I could persuade her to say what interest Cola had in her family, then I might spare myself from the humiliation of having to give in to the wishes of a half-crazed adolescent like Jack Prestcott.

She was brought to me in a small room normally occupied by the castle warden. Incarceration had done little for her appearance and, as I swiftly discovered, had in no way eroded her insolence.

“I trust you have meditated on the matters we talked of before. I am in a position to help you, if you will only allow me to do so.”

“I did not kill Dr. Grove.”

“I know that. But many people think you did, and you will die unless I help you.”

“If you know I am innocent, then surely you must help me anyway? You are a man of God.”

“Perhaps that is true. But you are a loyal subject of His Majesty, yet you refused to help me when I asked you for only the slightest assistance.”

“I did not refuse. I knew nothing that you wanted to hear.”

“For someone who may shortly be hanged you seem remarkably reluctant to avert that terrible fate.”

“If it is God’s will that I should die, then I will do so willingly. If it is not, then I shall be spared.”