The Last Protector. Andrew Taylor

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       The French Style

       Thursday, 16 January 1668

      THAT NIGHT, FERRUS sleeps with the dog that guards the kitchen yard at the Cockpit. The dog is a large, brindled creature with rough fur and a spiked collar. He is called Windy because that’s what he is. Ferrus has known Windy since Windy was a puppy. In those days, Windy was so tiny that Ferrus could hold him in his cupped hands.

      Ferrus and Windy don’t like each other. But they take each other for granted like rain and sun and nightfall. They keep each other warm on those nights when Ferrus can’t sleep in the scullery on account of something he has done wrong. (Cook never allows him to sleep in the kitchen itself, even on the coldest nights, because of the smell.)

      Ferrus is chilled to the bone when he wakes. It is still dark. He lies there, huddled against the dog’s flank, and pulls his cloak more tightly around him. He listens to the cocks of Whitehall and Westminster crowing on their frosty dunghills. His teeth are aching again but he ignores the pain as best he can. He is hungry. He is almost always hungry. Sometimes he is tempted to eat the food they put out for Windy; but he knows that if he does that, Windy will tear out his throat.

      Despite the pain, the cold and the hunger, he likes this time before the light, before the world stirs. He likes its emptiness. He stares at a pinprick of light in the eastern sky and listens to the cocks. He waits for the dawn when it will all begin again.

      The first I heard about the duel was on the day itself. I was one of the very few who were aware of it beforehand. My master, Mr Williamson, summoned me into his private room at Scotland Yard shortly after nine o’clock in the morning. He told me to make sure that the door was closed. The door was made of close-fitting oak and the walls were thick. Even so, he beckoned me closer and spoke in an undertone.

      ‘My Lord Shrewsbury has challenged the Duke of Buckingham.’

      Startled, I said, ‘Won’t the King stop them? Does he know?’

      Williamson stared at me, and I knew that I had overstepped the mark. ‘The King will do as he pleases, Marwood. And you will do as I please.’

      ‘Yes, sir. Of course, sir.’

      ‘They are to fight this afternoon. It’s likely to be a bloody business. My lord has decided that the duel will be in the French style, so he and the Duke will both be supported by two seconds.’

      Three against three, I thought, slashing at each other with their swords in the name of honour: not so much a duel as a pitched battle. Anything could happen in such a mêlée, anyone could be killed. What worried me was why Williamson was telling me such a dangerous secret.

      ‘Who are the seconds?’ I asked.

      ‘My lord has his cousins, Sir John Talbot and Bernard Howard, Lord Arundel’s son. The Duke has Sir Robert Holmes and a man called Jenkins, whom I don’t know. He’s an officer in the Horse Guards.’ Williamson paused. ‘And a former fencing master.’

      In that case, Buckingham had chosen carefully. I had never heard of Jenkins, but his qualifications were obvious. Holmes was well known as a ruthless fighter. He had served as both a soldier and a sailor in his time. On the other hand, Talbot and Howard were both reputed to be fine swordsmen. Talbot was an MP; he frequently attacked Buckingham and his allies in Parliament. He was a close ally of Lord Arlington, Williamson’s superior.

      ‘Can’t it be stopped, sir, if so much is known about it? Perhaps the King—’

      Williamson frowned at me. ‘If that had been possible, we would not be having this conversation.’ He went on in a more conciliatory tone: ‘Of course the reason for the duel is obvious enough. The only wonder is that my lord has put up with the injury he has suffered for so long.’

      As all the world knew, Lord Shrewsbury could hardly have avoided hearing that Buckingham had injured him: the whole town had known for months. The Duke flaunted the fact that Lady Shrewsbury was his latest mistress; so for that matter did she. But I was now quite sure that there was more to this affair than a straying wife and a cuckolded husband.

      ‘I want you to be there,’ Williamson said, leaning back in his chair. ‘At the duel. To be my eyes.’

      My skin crawled. Duels were illegal. Besides, I wanted nothing to do with the quarrels of noblemen. Especially these two: Buckingham and Shrewsbury. ‘Sir, they would kill me if—’

      ‘I agree – it would not be convenient to either of us if you were seen,’ he interrupted. He opened a drawer in his desk and took out a small wooden box, which he handed to me. ‘Open it.’

      I obeyed. The box contained a perspective glass made of brass, small enough to slip in a pocket.

      ‘Keep your distance. Once the duel’s over, come back as soon as you can and report to me. I want to know who’s been killed, who’s been wounded. I want to know exactly what happens, and who is there. Not just the combatants. Everyone.’

      I made one last effort to avoid the commission. ‘Sir, is it wise? The Duke would recognize my face if he chanced to see me. And several members of his household know of my employment at Whitehall.’

      Williamson СКАЧАТЬ