“I was dismissed from the Republic’s service late in 1659, when Richard Cromwell decided he could no longer survive as Protector and gave up the struggle. A pity; he was not without ability. I fell from power with him, and was without influence for many months. It was in this period that the material relating to your father was created and it was passed to Sir John Russell, and thence to Sir William Compton. This is a matter of simple fact. I said there was a grave flaw in your reasoning, and this is that flaw. However true your general case might be, I cannot have been responsible for it.”
Such a simple mistake I made, and it hit me as a hammer blow. With all my earnest inquisition, I had never stopped for a single moment to consider the chaos that attended the dying days of the Commonwealth, the incessant struggling for position and treachery amongst old partners as they strove to save themselves and their corrupt edifice from destruction. Cromwell died, his son took over, fell from power and was replaced by cabals of fanatics in Parliament. And in all this, Thurloe lost his grip, for a while. I knew that, and had not considered it important; had not checked the facts and the dates. And from the moment I had started talking, Thurloe had sat there calmly waiting for all my eloquence to end, knowing that with a simple puff he could blow over my entire case against him.
“You are telling me that Morland alone brought about the destruction of my father?”
“That would be one interpretation,” Thurloe said gravely. “Indeed, from the evidence you have presented it would be the obvious one.”
“What am I to do?”
“I thought you had come here to kill me, not to ask my advice.”
He knew he had escaped. In effect he had told me that, on two occasions, when I had seen Mordaunt and later Morland, I had had the guilty ones in my grasp. One I had left with my thanks and best wishes. The other I had considered a mere instrument, a greedy little wretch perhaps, but essentially a source of information and nothing more. I felt a fool, and was ashamed that this man should see my stupidity, and lay it out so calmly.
“It is time to draw this to an end,” Thurloe resumed. “Do you find me guilty, or not. I have said you have the decision. I will abide by your verdict.”
I shook my head, tears of frustration and shame welling up in my eyes.
“Not good enough, sir,” he pressed. “You must pronounce.”
“Not guilty,” I mumbled.
“Pardon? I am afraid I did not hear.”
“Not guilty,” I shouted at him. “Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty. Do you hear now?”
“Perfectly, thank you. Now, as you have shown your devotion to justice—and I appreciate how much it has cost you—I will show mine. If you want my advice, I will give it. Tell me everything you have done, read, said, thought and seen. Then I will see if there is any way I can help you.”
He clapped his hands again, and again the servant appeared, this time to be asked for some food, and more fuel for the fire. And then I began to talk and explain, starting at the very beginning and leaving out only the help and assistance given to me by Lord Bristol. I had promised to say nothing, and did not wish to anger a future patron by going back on my word. I even told him of my enchantment by Sarah Blundy and my determination to bring our contest to an end once and for all. But this topic I dropped; it was none of his business and I could see from his face that he did not believe in such matters.
“You have a gift to offer in your ability to accuse Mor-daunt, for many people dislike him, and he is closely associated with Lord Clarendon. You must sell your goods to the right people, and you will get a high price.”
“To whom?”
“Sir William Compton, I imagine, will be understandably anxious to prosecute you for your attack. As he also detests Lord Clarendon, he might consider it worthwhile waiving his suit if you contributed to the downfall of his greater enemy. And if Clarendon’s friend Mordaunt is weakened, then Clarendon will be gravely weakened. More people than Sir William Compton would thank you generously for that. You must approach them, and see what they offer in return.”
“That is all very well,” I said, scarcely daring to hope for so much after so many frustrations. “But I am a fugitive. I cannot go to London, nor even to Oxford, without being arrested. How can I approach anyone?”
The majesty of the king’s justice, however, he shrugged off. People like Thurloe, I was learning, did not consider the law a matter of great importance. If his enemies wished to destroy him, innocence at law would not save his life; if he had sufficient strength, no amount of guilt would bring him into danger. The law was an instrument of power, no more. And he offered me a dangerous bargain, a terrible choice. I wanted justice, but Thurloe told me there was no such thing, that all motion was the conflict of power. If I wanted to reestablish myself, I had to drag down the enemies of others in the same way they had dragged down my father. I could achieve my aim, but only by abandoning the purpose of it. It took many days of thought and prayer before I accepted.
When I had done so, Thurloe made the journey into Oxford during which he discussed the matter with Dr. Wallis after their encounter at the play. Although I had strong misgivings, he told me that Wallis was by far the easiest way of communicating with those men in government who might assist. Despite the way I had abused him in the jail, Thurloe did not seem to think it would be hard to win Wallis’s cooperation, although he never troubled to explain to me why this should be so.
“Well?” I asked eagerly when at last I was summoned on Thurloe’s return. “Will Wallis help?”
Thurloe smiled. “Perhaps if there is an exchange of information. You mentioned an Italian gentleman at Sir William Compton’s.”
“Da Cola, yes. A most civil man, for a foreigner.”
“Yes. Cola. Dr. Wallis is most interested in your opinion of him.”
“I know that. He has asked me before, although I have no idea why he was so fascinated.”
“That need not concern you in the slightest. Will you say on oath what you know of this man? And answer any other questions he might pose, freely and frankly?”
“If he will help me, then of course I will. It is harmless enough. What do I get in return?”
“Dr. Wallis is able, I understand, to give you crucial information about the package your father had intended to send to your mother. That package contained everything he knew of Mordaunt and his activities. Whom he saw, what he said, and all the consequences. With that in your possession, your case will be easily won.”
“He knew this all along? And did not say so?”
“He does not have it himself, and he is a dark and deep man. He never gives something for nothing. Fortunately you now have something to offer. But he can tell you whom you must approach to obtain it. Now, do you agree to this bargain?”
“Yes,” I said enthusiastically. “Of course. With all my heart. Particularly if he only wants information in return. For a prize like that he could have my life, and willingly too.”
“Good,” Thurloe said, smiling with pleasure. “That is settled. Now we have to remove the threat of the law, and renew your freedom of movement. I mentioned your concern about this woman Sarah Blundy, and of the ring that you have from Dr. Grove’s body. The woman has now been placed under arrest for his murder.”
“I am glad to hear it,” I said, more exultation gripping my heart. “I have told you how I know she killed him.”
“You will testify against her, your sense of justice will be noted and the charges against you dropped. Do you give me your word that this girl actually killed Grove?”
“I do.” It was a lie, I know, and even as I spoke I resented bitterly the need to speak it.
“In that case all will be well. But only, I repeat, if you answer all questions Dr. Wallis poses.”