An Instance of the Fingerpost (55 page)

‘What am I to do?’

‘I thought you had come here to kill me, not to ask my advice.’

He knew he had escaped. In effect he had told me that, on two occasions, when I had seen Mordaunt and later Morland, I had had the guilty ones in my grasp. One I had left with my thanks and best wishes. The other I had considered a mere instrument, a greedy little wretch perhaps, but essentially a source of information and nothing
more. I felt a fool, and was ashamed that this man should see my stupidity, and lay it out so calmly.

‘It is time to draw this to an end,’ Thurloe resumed. ‘Do you find me guilty, or not? I have said you have the decision. I will abide by your verdict.’

I shook my head, tears of frustration and shame welling up in my eyes.

‘Not good enough, sir,’ he pressed. ‘You must pronounce.’

‘Not guilty,’ I mumbled.

‘Pardon? I am afraid I did not hear.’

‘Not guilty,’ I shouted at him. ‘Not guilty, not guilty, not guilty. Do you hear now?’

‘Perfectly, thank you. Now, as you have shown your devotion to justice – and I appreciate how much it has cost you – I will show mine. If you want my advice, I will give it. Tell me everything you have done, read, said, thought and seen. Then I will see if there is any way I can help you.’

He clapped his hands again, and again the servant appeared, this time to be asked for some food, and more fuel for the fire. And then I began to talk and explain, starting at the very beginning and leaving out only the help and assistance given to me by Lord Bristol. I had promised to say nothing, and did not wish to anger a future patron by going back on my word. I even told him of my enchantment by Sarah Blundy and my determination to bring our contest to an end once and for all. But this topic I dropped; it was none of his business and I could see from his face that he did not believe in such matters.

‘You have a gift to offer in your ability to accuse Mordaunt, for many people dislike him, and he is closely associated with Lord Clarendon. You must sell your goods to the right people, and you will get a high price.’

‘To whom?’

‘Sir William Compton, I imagine, will be understandably anxious to prosecute you for your attack. As he also detests Lord Clarendon, he might consider it worth while waiving his suit if you contributed to the downfall of his greater enemy. And if Clarendon’s friend Mordaunt is weakened, then Clarendon will be gravely weakened. More people
than Sir William Compton would thank you generously for that. You must approach them, and see what they offer in return.’

‘That is all very well,’ I said, scarcely daring to hope for so much after so many frustrations. ‘But I am a fugitive. I cannot go to London, nor even to Oxford, without being arrested. How can I approach anyone?’

The majesty of the king’s justice, however, he shrugged off. People like Thurloe, I was learning, did not consider the law a matter of great importance. If his enemies wished to destroy him, innocence at law would not save his life; if he had sufficient strength, no amount of guilt would bring him into danger. The law was an instrument of power, no more. And he offered me a dangerous bargain, a terrible choice. I wanted justice, but Thurloe told me there was no such thing, that all motion was the conflict of power. If I wanted to re-establish myself, I had to drag down the enemies of others in the same way they had dragged down my father. I could achieve my aim, but only by abandoning the purpose of it. It took many days of thought and prayer before I accepted.

When I had done so, Thurloe made the journey into Oxford, during which he discussed the matter with Dr Wallis after their encounter at the play. Although I had strong misgivings, he told me that Wallis was by far the easiest way of communicating with those men in government who might assist. Despite the way I had abused him in the jail, Thurloe did not seem to think it would be hard to win Wallis’s co-operation, although he never troubled to explain to me why this should be so.

‘Well?’ I asked eagerly when at last I was summoned on Thurloe’s return. ‘Will Wallis help?’

Thurloe smiled. ‘Perhaps if there is an exchange of information. You mentioned an Italian gentleman at Sir William Compton’s.’

‘Da Cola, yes. A most civil man, for a foreigner.’

‘Yes. Cola. Dr Wallis is most interested in your opinion of him.’

‘I know that. He has asked me before, although I have no idea why he was so fascinated.’

‘That need not concern you in the slightest. Will you say on oath what you know of this man? And answer any other questions he might pose, freely and frankly?’

‘If he will help me, then of course I will. It is harmless enough. What do I get in return?’

‘Dr Wallis is able, I understand, to give you crucial information about the package your father had intended to send to your mother. That package contained everything he knew of Mordaunt and his activities. Whom he saw, what he said, and all the consequences. With that in your possession, your case will be easily won.’

‘He knew this all along? And did not say so?’

‘He does not have it himself, and he is a dark and deep man. He never gives something for nothing. Fortunately you now have something to offer. But he can tell you whom you must approach to obtain it. Now, do you agree to this bargain?’

‘Yes,’ I said enthusiastically. ‘Of course. With all my heart. Particularly if he only wants information in return. For a prize like that he could have my life, and willingly too.’

‘Good,’ Thurloe said, smiling with pleasure. ‘That is settled. Now we have to remove the threat of the law, and renew your freedom of movement. I mentioned your concern about this woman Sarah Blundy and of the ring that you have from Dr Grove’s body. The woman has now been placed under arrest for his murder.’

‘I am glad to hear it,’ I said, more exultation gripping my heart. ‘I have told you how I know she killed him.’

‘You will testify against her, your sense of justice will be noted and the charges against you dropped. Do you give me your word that this girl actually killed Grove?’

‘I do.’ It was a lie, I know, and even as I spoke I resented bitterly the need to speak it.

‘In that case all will be well. But only, I repeat, if you answer all questions Dr Wallis poses.’

My heart was close to bursting with delight as I contemplated how I was triumphing in every single sphere. Truly, I thought, I was blessed, that so much should be given to me so swiftly. I was all enthusiasm for a moment, but then my spirit deflated. ‘It is a trap,’ I said. ‘Wallis will not help me. It is just a lure to get me to go back to Oxford. I will be thrown back into gaol and hanged.’

‘That is a risk, but Wallis is after bigger game than yourself, I think.’

I snorted. It was easy, I thought, to be calm and detached at the thought of someone’s else’s neck being stretched. I would have liked to see how he contemplated a march to the hanging tree himself.

The next move came a few days later. I had reluctantly come to accept that I would have to take the risk and place myself in Wallis’s hands, but my courage had failed me, and I was in this state of indecision when Thurloe came softly into the room where I was spending my time, and announced that I had a visitor.

‘A Signor Marco da Cola,’ he said with a faint smile. ‘It is strange how that man shows up in the most unexpected places.’

‘He is here?’ I said standing up with astonishment. ‘Why?’

‘Because I invited him. He is staying nearby and when I was told, I thought I really must meet the gentleman. He is most charming.’

I insisted on seeing Cola, for I wanted to hear everything. It was Thurloe who suggested that he might prove ideal as the intermediary for approaching the magistrate in Oxford, for I think even he did not trust Wallis as much as he said.

I do not need to justify, I hope, what I told him. I have given enough evidence to show how I had to escape the curse upon me and how limited my resources were. I had begged for release from Sarah Blundy’s curse, but had been rebuffed. She had tricked me into attacking my own guardian; the efforts of magicians, priests and wise men to repulse her had all failed, and – though I have not mentioned it in my story as much as I could have done – almost daily I was assaulted by strange happenings, and my nights were a torment of fervid visitations, so that I had no peaceful sleep. She attacked me mercilessly, perhaps with the hope that I would be sent insane. I now had the possibility of striking back, once and for all. I could not possibly afford to let that chance slip through my fingers. And I also had my loyalty to Thomas.

So I told Cola that I had visited her cottage on my escape, and had seen her as she came in, wild and excited. I told him that I had found Grove’s ring in her dress, and how I had instantly recognised it and taken it from her. How she had turned pale when I demanded
how she had come by it. And how I would testify to all of this at her trial. I almost believed it myself by the time I had finished.

Cola agreed to relay this to the magistrate, and even reassured me by saying he was sure that my willingness to come forward in the name of justice, even though I was placing myself at risk, would stand me in good stead for the future.

I thanked him and, indeed, felt so warmly towards him that I could not forbear from giving him some information of my own.

‘Tell me,’ I said, ‘why is it that Dr Wallis concerns himself with you? Are you friends?’

‘No, indeed,’ he said. ‘I have only met him once and he was very uncivil.’

‘He wishes to talk to me about you. I do not know why.’

Cola repeated he had no understanding of it, then brushed the matter aside and asked me when I proposed to come to Oxford.

‘I think it would be best to wait until just before the trial. I hope the magistrate will grant me bail, but I am in a mood not to be overtrusting.’

‘So you will see Dr Wallis then?’

‘Almost certainly.’

‘Good. I would like to offer you hospitality afterwards, to celebrate your good fortune.’

And he went. I mention it only to demonstrate that there was much which Cola does not include even when he gives an account of conversations. Much of the rest of what he says is more or less correct, however. The magistrate arrived in high dudgeon and was all for arresting both Thurloe and myself until he heard of my evidence against Blundy; then he was all sweetness and accommodation – although I suspect Dr Wallis may have already intervened and told him of the probability that Sir William would withdraw his suit, as indeed he did a few days later. Then I waited until word came that the trial was to begin and journeyed back into Oxford.

I did not have to give evidence, as it turned out, as the woman confessed to the crime – a surprising thing for, as I say, on this she was innocent. But the evidence against her was strong, and perhaps she realised that it was all over. I did not care; I was merely glad that she was to die and that I did not have to perjure myself.

She hanged the next day and instantly I felt her malign presence lifting from my spirit, like the first breath of cool, clear wind after a thunderstorm has removed the oppression from the air. It was only then that I realised how much she had tormented me, and how constant had been the drain on my soul.

In effect, there ends my story as well, for the rest is outside the scope of Cola’s account, and much of my own triumph is already well enough known. I never saw Cola again, for he left Oxford shortly afterwards, but Wallis was highly satisfied with what I told him and gave me all the information I required. Within a month my name was restored and, although it was considered impolitic to proceed directly against Mordaunt, his rise was for ever blocked. The man who, at one stage, was going to be the most powerful politician in the country, ended his days in grubby obscurity, shunned by his old friends, enough of whom knew the truth about him. The favour of many men in high places, in contrast, won me the rewards my birth and position merited, and I exploited my good fortune so successfully I was soon able to begin rebuilding my estates. And, in the fullness of time I built my mansion just outside London, where my detested uncle comes to pay court to me, in the futile hope that I will pass some goodness on to him. Needless to say, he goes away empty-handed.