Authors: J.E. Moncrieff
“Then you’re a fool!” William shouted, spinning Edmund around in the dark, overhung street in the gutter-like district of Whitechapel outside the City walls. “You will not accept them. I haven’t risked my life for your idiocy. Do you want to be beheaded as a traitor? Racked, drawn and cut to pieces in front of the peasants? I would kill you first myself rather than be humiliated and killed like that.”
Only the sound of unseen footsteps in the darkness calmed Edmund as his face contorted with rage. He leaned close to Spence and spoke quietly.
“You are a traitor and you will do as you’re told. If you ever threaten or disobey me again, I will have your intestines bared and slowly eaten by rats from the inside out. Do you understand me? You are beneath me and I will never forget it.”
Spence swallowed and nodded grimly in the shadows.
“You may be a vicious thug, William. But you are nothing to me and I will cut you down if you even blink in the wrong way and put me at risk. You may not like them, quite frankly neither do I. But they’re here for a reason and it’s not bloody trade. Let’s find out. Yes?”
He steered the raging Spence around the final corner and into the dark, unsigned tavern that was their intended destination.
The small, quiet inn didn’t stir as two hooded figures entered with their identities intentionally concealed. John spotted Courtridge and Spence from under his own hood in the far corner of the tavern and nudged Jake with his elbow. The two men standing looked around for the right table as John lifted his hand and signalled to the dark shadow of the taller head looking his way. He shifted his recording equipment under his shirt, and as the cloaked figures sat down, all five men lifted their hoods halfway to reveal their faces to each other over the table. In the half-shadow of his hood Courtridge was barely more than a beard with eyes, while the clean-shaven, chiselled face of Spence appeared gaunt as he stared at them in the dim light.
“Men,” Courtridge said, nodding to each and receiving nods back. “Thank you for meeting. De Lyons, please explain your decisions and tell me about this proposal.”
“I’m here to propose the enlisting of these two men in order to assist our cause.”
“Why?”
“Well, for a start they share the same beliefs that we do; and with their clear talent we could use them to fill our spaces.”
“Talents? What talents might they be?”
“Jake moves like a cat, Edmund, I have seen it. And John, well from very little he easily figured out who I was, where my notes were hidden and all of the basics of our plan. He had even worked out who you were, and we know there are no leaks.”
Courtridge fixed them both with a stare and assessed them. He was usually a good judge of character and something inside him told him the two men were not out to stop him. But for a reason he could not place they were different; and the fact that he had no idea why frightened him.
“Well, Samuel,” he said, “what you propose to know about fighting I don’t know. But I am curious as to how you knew about us, John.”
“We’ve worked hard and we know what to look for,” John answered. “We came for a reason and spent time looking for a way. Quite frankly, we spotted Sam here and that led quickly to you.”
“How did you spot Sam?”
“That’s not important. But we can be useful to you. What we can offer in insight and experience cannot be overlooked. Will you have us aboard?”
“Why, John? Why have you travelled here for this?”
“Honestly? We descend from the Empress Matilda and if it had not been for her grandson, the wretched King John, then the territories of France would not have been lost with us in it and our estates would not have been overruled.” John paused as all five men studied each other. “Our ancestors took our wealth and moved to strange territories in Eastern France where they became established and kept relations with this country’s nobility until King Henry reignited the war in France. Our remaining allies connected to the Lancastrians and Margaret of Anjou were hurt in the war with the Yorkists and our trade and chance at development was severed by Edward the Fourth. We want the Duke and his nephew King out of our realm.”
“Why now then?” Courtridge asked. “Why come back now? Surely you did not suspect
us
from France?”
“We were informed that a plan was in existence, yes. We took a great gamble in fronting Samuel the way we did, and I am afraid it was a case of all or nothing in our approach. Edmund, with the death of King Edward we were free to return. Not only return, but right the wrongs of the English throne. This was our only chance. There is no strong King, Edward is uncrowned and young, and Richard stands only as Regent despite having his eye on the power. If we strike now we can ruin the Duke and leave the throne open. That is why we are here.”
“I see. So you want the House of York off the throne. That’s understandable, of course. You need help and we are already moving, so you want to be part of it for your own reasons which happen to assist ours. That too makes sense. So tell me, who in your mind will wear the crown once Edward and Richard are gone?”
“In an ideal world?” John asked, smiling. “We would choose the descendants of Lionel, the second surviving son of Edward Third.”
“I knew it!” Spence rasped from under his hood, his pale blue eyes burning into John’s as he stood up. “You’re here for your own purposes. You want to use us to clear space then fight your own way to our throne, you foreign, traitorous bastards. This isn’t for the good of England it’s for your own gain!”
Jake stood in reaction and caused Spence to step back and reach for his sword hilt. At equal speed, Spence’s sword was bared and Jake was inside it, a blade protruding from the heel of his hand and held calmly fixed to his adversary’s shadow-hidden throat.
“Sit down, you filthy leper and let my brother finish,” he said quietly to Spence. “Or else your gullet will stain this tavern with the black slime that swims inside you.”
“Consider the company you are in, Jake,” whispered Courtridge warningly. “Shedding the blood of William Spence will not serve you well with any faction of this City.”
“Believe me, I am not the kind to worry,” Jake replied before turning back and leaning close to the face before him. “Sheath your sword and listen to my brother. Sir Spence.”
After a moment’s pause, Spence slid his sword back to his hip and fixed Jake with a deathly stare to cover his shame. Feeling unnerved but refusing to show it, Jake slipped his own knife back into the folds of his robe and sat down. Spence hesitated on his feet a moment more as though contemplating his chances against an unprepared Jake, but the cool gaze watching him helped him make his decision and he sat down.
“May I continue?” John asked.
Courtridge waited for Spence to nod his affirmation before he smiled for the meeting to carry on.
“I said,” John continued,” that in an ideal world, we would crown a different line; but I didn’t say we had a plan. In truth, we have no one in mind. Our problem is with the Yorkists, not who takes the throne. If there must be Lancastrian rule, then so be it. We will not oppose. Who did you have in mind? A descendant of John of Gaunt such as Henry Tudor?”
“Tudor? Ha!” exclaimed Courtridge. The bastard is nothing; he is not fit to rule.” John felt De Lyons shuffle agitatedly next to him but ignored him in their public position, making a mental note of his reaction instead. “There are still Lancastrian connections with a claim to the throne,” Courtridge continued as his chest swelled slightly. “We have someone in mind.”
“Yes, Edmund. Just make sure this is for the right reasons.”
“Don’t question me, John. If you want in, you do as you’re told. And you calm down,” he added, glancing at Jake.
“So we’re in?” Jake asked.
Courtridge glanced around once more at Spence scowling from within his hood and smiled.
“You’re in,” he replied.
Seventeen
17
th
June 1483
The tiny door slammed against the cobwebbed wall behind it as William Spence ducked through the opening of the half-derelict building and into the dingy room below it.
“God this place stinks of shit,” he said furiously as he threw around various filthy items in the darkness looking for a seat. Finally finding an up-ended stool, he turned it over and sat down in the gloom, jumping startled as something scurried under his feet. He sat there in the darkness, the thought of Jake Rougemont getting the better of him and eating at him inside while he waited for the return of his occasional business associate. With no known true identity and no other way of prior contact, when Spence needed the services of a man he knew only as Starkes, he simply had to sit and wait.
The smell of faeces intensified suddenly as the feeling of breath on his neck made him almost fall of his seat in terror.
“Finished insulting my home, William?” came the soft, sinister voice, impossibly close but lost in the darkness.
“I need something, Starkes. I need your help,” replied Spence, his anger quickly returning.
“So it seems.”
“I need two men taken care of. They’ve gotten into my business and they’re dangerous. One of them, the arrogant fool, is trouble I know it. And the leader, he has an agenda.”
“Rougemont?”
Spence glanced in the direction of the putrid smelling breath.
“Rougemont,” he confirmed.
“If Edmund Courtridge trusts them are you sure it’s wise to meddle in this?”
Spence chuckled. He should’ve known better than to expect any personal circumstances would escape the man before him.
“Your knowledge of private business astounds and concerns me, Starkes. Forget Courtridge, I want them dead.”
“But once again you do not think. Having them murdered will arouse suspicion and cause uproar in the courts. Perhaps I shall suggest something else?”
“You have an idea?”
“Are they not plotting something sinister? Working against the King?”
“Perhaps...”
“Then
perhaps
the King should know about them?”
Spence leaned forward, captivated.
“They get caught? It’s genius, Starkes, absolute genius. I have an idea.”
“Oh yes. It’s all your idea, Sir William.”
“How does that feel?” Charlotte said quietly as she secured the final part of the video and audio pack to
Jake.
“It’s good. Thanks Char.”
“You still call me Char, Jimmy,” she said, smiling.
“No one else calls you Char. It’s something only I do.”
“I don’t let them call me Char, that’s why.”
“You let me.”
“Yeah, well. You’re you, Jake.”
“Meaning?”
“Oh shush. And your hood is all bunched up,” she said, blushing as she reached up to adjust it. Jake watched her as their faces came within inches of each other. She hadn’t noticed his gaze and he smiled as she frowned in concentration.
“There,” she said, “all done.” She began to drop her hands but stopped on his shoulders as their eyes met.