Doctor Who_ The Roundheads Part 31

Kemp raised his ma.s.sive fist and held it perilously close to her face. 'Do not vex me, woman. I have business.'

Despite the threat, his wife did not back down, 'I recall a time when your business was your business,' she murmured sourly.

For a moment it appeared that Kemp would strike her, then, face flushed, he strode across the room, knocking into his drunken patrons, who called a series of good-humoured oaths after him.

Sarah Kemp looked sadly at her husband's retreating back until a shout broke her reverie.

''Sfoot, Sarah! Where's the ale?'

She turned and gave her broadest, warmest smile to the drunken youth sprawled over the wooden bar.

Kemp was glad to be out of the steaming, heaving room.

The stench of tobacco smoke, to which he was normally inured, seemed to be clinging to his lungs tonight and he gave a great hacking cough as he made his way swiftly up the stairs.

In truth, he was greatly preoccupied. The revelation of his daughter's treachery had shaken him dreadfully and somewhat taken the s.h.i.+ne off the news of the King's escape. But still, it was true! His beloved monarch was free and the pressure to keep silent was almost tearing Kemp apart.

He approached the door to the little room and knocked gently. Copper's voice from beyond bade him enter.

'I am sorry for the delay, My Lord. My wife '

Copper waved away his excuses. He did not look in the mood for trivia.

'Sit down, Will,' he said, pulling out a rickety chair from beneath the table.

Kemp sat down, feeling like a schoolboy about to get in serious trouble. He began to lick his dry lips. 'What ails you, Sir John?'

Copper looked at him, his white brows drawn tightly. 'The King ails me, Will. He refuses point blank to leave London.'

Kemp nodded. 'Aye. On the grounds 'twould look like cowardice. G.o.d, the man is a saint, I shouldn't wonder if '

'Shut up,' hissed Copper. 'If you knew half of the situation you would not make light of it so. The King is a fool, G.o.d save me for saying it. And I fear for him every hour he remains in this stinking city. But he is ahead of us.'

Kemp leaned forward, his hands clasped between his knees. 'What do you mean?'

'His Majesty has plans to disrupt the Roundheads' cause.

Disrupt it in a terminal fas.h.i.+on.'

'How?'

'By removing its figurehead,' said Copper evenly.

Kemp stroked his chin. 'Cromwell, you mean? Remove him?' He peered closely at Copper. 'Kill him?'

Copper nodded. 'Plans have already been laid. It a risky venture and I would never have done things this way myself, but we have come this far in order to serve our King and we must not fail him now.'

Kemp sniffed. 'What must we do?'

Copper began to drum his fingers on the table. 'Fate has placed a happy coincidence in our laps, Will. A spy on the enemy side who we thought might only provide useful intelligence.'

'Spy? Who do you ' Kemp sat suddenly upright. 'You cannot mean my Frances?'

Copper nodded. 'I do.'

Kemp shook his head violently. 'But she is little more than a child. To involve her in a conspiracy of this order...'

Copper snorted. 'Oh, come now, Kemp. Was it not you calling her strumpet and wh.o.r.e only t'other night? If she has years enough to take a Roundhead as her lover she is surely of an age to help us.'

Kemp's head sank to his breast. 'But if it should come out...'

Copper turned away dismissively. 'You should have considered such things before you became involved. You do not think your wife and child would in any case be spared if your part in all this should be revealed?'

Kemp shook his head. He had heard the accounts of Roundhead atrocities, of unborn infants ripped from their mothers' wombs and troopers was.h.i.+ng their hands in the resultant blood.

'What do you want of her?' he asked sadly.

Copper took out a square of paper, which was covered with his neat writing.

'We need to know Cromwell's movements between today and the end of the week. In detail. I don't fret over how she gets them she can sleep with half of Parliament for all I care but she must find out. You will receive further instructions then. Is that understood?'

Kemp did not reply, thinking, for the first time, that he would gladly strike the aristocratic gentleman who sat at his side.

'Is that understood?'

Kemp looked up and nodded.

Copper got his feet. 'Good. I shall await your signal. She must hurry. Time is of the essence.'

He turned and strode out of the room.

Kemp sat stock still, his breathing hot and fast, then tears sprang like pearls to his eyes. Great G.o.d, he thought miserably, what would become of him?

From his vantage point by the dockside, Nathaniel Scrope could see all of the bustling river traffic. A raw, freezing wind was howling over the spindly black rigging of the moored s.h.i.+ps, flapping at tethered sails and making the windowpanes of the adjacent offices rattle like loose teeth.

From time to time, a few small rowing boats would plough their way through the half-frozen water, their pa.s.sengers bundled up like wool-swathed dummies against the cold.

Scrope sat on an upturned barrel, puffing away at a clay pipe, looking like a disreputable elf on a rum-stained toadstool.

His rheumy eyes scanned the water and then flicked round as his friend Petie came scrambling over the jetties towards him.

''Swounds, if I ain't froze half dead!' cried the lad as he took his place by Scrope's side and hopped from one foot to the other, struggIing to keep his skinny frame warm.

'I thank 'ee for coming, Petie. In such weather as this an'

all.'

Petie shook his head mournfully. 'I'd a doxy lined up tonight, Nat, that would fair turn your toes up. I'd sooner be in her warm arms than out here by the blasted river.'

Scrope gave a little chuckle. 'The Lord will remember your forbearance, my lad, and no mistake. Now, come, what news of the Teazer Teazer?'

Petie wrapped his arms tightly about his skinny chest.

'Sighted by a sloop as she pa.s.sed Canvey Island, Nat. She's hugging the coast like a babe at its ma's breast.'

'But heading for London?'

Petie shrugged. 'Hard to tell. My mate says she could be making for the Gravesend marshes.'

Scrope's weathered old face contracted in surprise. 'The marshes? Whatever for?'

Petie stamped his feet on the rotten duckboards. 'There's a brig close in front that she seems to be a following.'

'Name?'

Petie shrugged. 'My mate couldn't be sure. He's stuck out on a lights.h.i.+p and the weather's closing in fast. But he said she looked like the Demeter Demeter.'

Scrope roared with unexpected laughter. 'What? Old Sal Winter's s.h.i.+p?'

He laughed again and slid down from the barrel. 'I tell you, Petie,' he said, using his glowing pipe to gesture 'if Stanislaus is on Winter's tail then this storm'll prove as nothing compared to the tempest they'll blow in.'

Petie rubbed his hands together feverishly. 'And how do you reckon this lad, this Ben Jackson, is tied to 'em?'

Scrope shrugged and began to move back towards the street. A curtain of wet sleet was already descending on them.

'I know not as yet. But we must get over to the marshes to see the outcome of this battle royal, Petie. Then we'll find out how the Doctor's friend fits into this merry picture.'

They shambled through the growing gale and back into the winding streets of old London.

'Now think, Polly,' said the Doctor earnestly. 'These men who rescued the King. Who were they and where would they go?

The information might just save our lives.'

Polly shrugged. 'The only one who told me his name was Christopher. Christopher Whyte.'

'He could've been making that up,' offered Jamie.

Yes,' muttered the Doctor. 'And they were based at the inn? Close to where the TARDIS landed?'

'That's right. But I hardly think they'd go back there. They must have a.s.sumed I'd be forced to tell everything I knew.'

The Doctor's brows knitted together. 'No, no. You're right. They'd try to get the King out of the country. Then they could raise an army and invade.'

Jamie gave a small, despairing sigh. 'That's it then, isn't it? If the King's out of England then we must've put time out of joint'

Polly's mouth turned down anxiously. 'One of your nightmare scenarios is unfolding as we speak.'

The Doctor wagged his finger. 'Not necessarily. History says that Charles was imprisoned right up to his trial. That's still some time away.'

'Aye,' lamented Jamie. 'But we've not much chance of putting things rights banged up in here!'

There was some activity outside the room and then boIts were drawn back. The door swung open and Thurloe stepped aside. He nodded to the jailer, who slammed and locked the door after him.

'Aren't you afraid we might try to eat you, Mr Thurloe?'

Thurloe permitted himself a tiny smile. 'You do not seem the type, Doctor. Besides, I have come here to help you.'

'If it's in return for us trying to persuade the general against the kings.h.i.+p, I'm afraid we didn't have much chance...'

Thurloe waved his hand. 'Nay. I know you did what you could. Besides, we cannot have a new king until we have found the old one, eh?'

The Doctor smiled. 'Quite.'

Thurloe moved across the room and let his hand trail over the damp, rotten stonework. 'Not the most salubrious of places, Doctor?'

The Doctor looked about. 'Oh, don't you like it? Of course, when to buy is always such a difficult decision, but we were sick of renting, weren't we?'

He turned to Jamie and Polly as if expecting an answer.

Thurloe ignored the Doctor's comments. 'I could arrange for somewhere rather more pleasant. In fact, I could arrange for the charges of treason against you all to be dropped altogether.'

'That's very good of you,' said the Doctor blandly.

'On certain conditions.'

Polly threw up her hands. 'Why did I know he was going to say that?'

Thurloe put his hands behind his back and regarded the three of them steadily. 'Tell me all you know about the plot to rescue the King.'

Polly groaned. 'Look, I told that Captain Culpeper. We don't '

The Doctor held up his hand to silence her and Polly immediately stopped talking.

'AlI we know about the plot? And then you'll let us go?'

Thurloe nodded. 'I'll see you safely back to Parliament and you can make your way out of the city from there.'

He loomed closer, drawing his face right up to the Doctor's. 'I must find Charles, Doctor. You understand that?

AlI we have laboured for will come to naught if he escapes us.