The Queen's Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

enough.’
    ‘Very well, Sir Francis.’ Shakespeare bowed and moved towards the door.
    ‘Wait.’ Walsingham stayed him with a flick of his deeply veined hand. ‘I have not yet told you the true reason I wished to see you. The mission I mentioned.’
    Shakespeare paused expectantly.
    ‘It involves your own county, John. My lord of Leicester tells me he touched on the subject when you became tangled up in the hunt. Robin, you know Warwickshire better than any man; explain your fears to Mr Shakespeare.’
    Leicester was up now and pacing. ‘The peril is not merely in the north, you see. It is in my own lands in middle England. Sir Thomas Lucy, my chief man in the county, has a war on his hands trying to put down the papist vermin that run free like rats in a sewer. I do not exaggerate when I tell you that my county – our county, Mr Shakespeare – has become a Judas nest of conspirators.’
    Walsingham turned his penetrating gaze on Shakespeare. ‘You begin to understand, John? We believe you may be the perfect man to help Sir Thomas Lucy counter this terror. Indeed, I am certain you are ready for this important task and that you will not let me down.’
    ‘Conspiracy abounds in Warwickshire like a high summer stink,’ Leicester said. ‘You could draw a ten-mile circle around the town of Stratford and within that roundel you would find half the papist traitors in England. First there was this Simon Hunt, a teacher at the grammar, who now licks the Antichrist’s arse in the Vatican. Then the traitor Cottam. Now the fugitives Dibdale and Angel.’ He locked eyes with Shakespeare. ‘Do you know these people?’
    ‘Yes.’ Shakespeare knew them all well. Hunt had taught him at school. Benedict Angel, the same age as Shakespeare, had been his classmate for a while. His sister, Florence Angel, a year or two older, had been his friend in their youth. Now Angel had been ordained a Catholic priest and was on the run. He knew the Cottams too. Thomas Cottam was brother of John Cottam, Hunt’s successor as schoolmaster. Thomas Cottam had been executed earlier in the year for treason, having entered the country secretly as a priest. Robert Dibdale was also a priest and, like Benedict Angel, was on the loose, his whereabouts unknown. They all had close links with Stratford-upon-Avon and they were all deemed enemies of the state.
    ‘There are others,’ Leicester continued, warming to his vehement harangue. ‘What of Catesby of Lapworth? Some say he harboured the deluded Campion. Nor do I trust the Throckmortons who live close by at Coughton Court. These people conspire against God and the Queen.’
    ‘This priest Angel,’ Walsingham said, taking up the earl’s thread. ‘I took pity on the man and ordered him released from the Gatehouse gaol and sent into exile. Well, he has been freed – but there is no record of him leaving the country. Find out where he is. Often such men make contact with their families. I am sure you will discover the truth soon enough. This so-called Angel should not be at large. Go home to Stratford after Tutbury. It cannot be far. Find Angel and the others. Root out treason, John. Root it out and destroy it. This is what I want from you. This is what I have been training you for. It is what I saw in you when I snatched you from the tedium of your law studies.’
    Shakespeare bowed again, but said nothing. Beneath his linen shirt and plain doublet, his body was soaked with sweat. Angel and the others were the people he grew up with. Was Walsingham testing his loyalty – seeing whether he had the stomach to turn in his neighbours? Was that what this was all about? Was that why Leicester was here?
    ‘And there is Arden, too. Do not forget Arden,’ Leicester went on. ‘I raised Edward Arden up as county sheriff, but then I saw his true colours. The devil take him. Do you know this Catholic viper, Mr Shakespeare? Are the Ardens not kin to the Catesbys?’
    ‘I have met Edward Arden, my lord,’