The King's Man Read Online Free PDF

mirror should give you the answer to that question,” Kit rejoined.
    "You know everyone here?” Dutton ran an expansive hand around the circle.
    Kit recognised the faces of his old companions in arms: his friend Fitzjames, Colonel Whitely, Roger Cotes, Richard Willys and a couple of other familiar faces. The last man was a stranger.
    Whitely pulled the young man forward. “Jack Gerard, meet our friend and fellow sufferer, Captain Christopher Lovell. Jack is the nephew of Lord Gerard, who is with the King in Paris,” Whitely said.
    Both men bowed politely.
    "Welcome to this den of lost causes, Master Gerard,” Kit said.
    Gerard smiled. “No cause is a lost cause, Captain Lovell. Not while we still have breath in our bodies and a King denied his rightful throne."
    Kit did not reply immediately as he regarded the youngster thoughtfully. Jack Gerard was younger than the others, too young to have fought in the wars, Kit observed cynically. A young, dangerous idealist.
    "Those indeed are sentiments we all hold dear to our hearts,” Kit said at last. “Come, gentleman, a toast to our King."
    Wine sloshed into the glasses and the brimming cups were held aloft. “To the King.” But the words were said quietly so as not to carry to the taproom beyond.
    Kit set his glass down and settled himself in a chair beside the fire. “So, what is the news about London? One hears nothing behind the solid walls of the Clink except what your purse can tell you, and mine was mostly empty."
    "I did hear tell that some woman took a pot-shot at the Lord Protector the other day,” Fitzjames said.
    "Quite true,” Dutton said. “I was there. Saw it myself. Hurled a brickbat at him during the parade. Only missed him by a few inches."
    "Women never could throw,” Cotes put in with a snort. “Did they catch her?"
    "Vanished,” Dutton said. “Disappeared like smoke. Some say it was witchcraft."
    "They'd say that about anybody. Fact is they were too incompetent to catch her,” Whitely said. “Well, good luck to her, wherever she is. Pity is, she missed."
    "Cromwell conducts himself more and more as if he were King, not the usurping yeoman that he is,” Gerard spat.
    Kit laughed. “My young friend, like it or not, he is our head of state. I for one would not have the task!"
    "Pssh!” Whitely snorted. “Gone soft in gaol, Lovell."
    Kit sighed. “Getting old, Whitely. So what brings you sorry band together?"
    The men looked at each other.
    Gerard leaned across the table to Whitely. “Is he to be trusted?"
    Whitely gave the young man a hard look. “Of course he's to be trusted. Lovell's a King's man to the bone. He stood behind the King's colors at Edgehill and at Worcester."
    Fitzjames placed a hand on Kit's shoulder. “He's one of us, Gerard."
    The others nodded agreement.
    "So, Dutton,” Fitz said. “What's the news?"
    There was silence. All eyes in the room turned to Richard Dutton. The man raised his wineglass, took a sip and set it down with a dramatic flourish.
    "There is a plan,” he announced.
    Kit's heart sank. There was always a plan and if Dutton had anything to do with it, it was unlikely to be a very good plan.
    Dutton leaned forward, his voice lowered. “As we discussed in Lovell's absence, it's early days yet but steps have advanced."
    "And?” Whitely tapped his boot with obvious impatience.
    Dutton shook his head. “I am loath to say much more for the present. However if we meet back here in a week, I will then have something to report."
    Hiding his frustration with a shrug, Kit produced a battered pack of cards. “Well, until next week then. In the meantime I for one would welcome a diversion, not to mention a small boost to the purse. Anyone willing to take me on?"
    * * * *
    At the end of the evening, Dutton rose unsteadily to his feet.
    "Go to go,” he slurred. “Busy day tomorrow."
    Kit shot to his feet. “I'll see you to your lodgings,” he said.
    The two men lurched into the cold street. Snowflakes fell