The Parliament House (37 page)

    'Do not be foolish, sir,' advised Bale, holding up a hand. 'There's no escape. We have other officers outside.'

    'Then we will have to leave by another means - without you.'

    Holding the heavy sword in both hands, he swung it at Bale who stepped quickly back out of reach. The hall was large but it suddenly seemed very small to Bale, Dorothy and the watching servant. It was no place for a duel. Christopher had drawn his own sword but his rapier was no match for the other weapon. As soon as the blades clashed, a shudder went up his arm. Farwell swung the sword again and Christopher ducked beneath it.

    'Grab what you need and leave by the back door,' Farwell called to Dorothy, circling his opponent. 'Please hurry.'

    She moved to the stairs but Bale got there first, seizing her by both arms and keeping her in front of him as a shield. Christopher tried to distract Farwell by thrusting at him but it was no time for the finer points of swordsmanship. Swishing his weapon in the air, Farwell brought it down so hard that it knocked the rapier from Christopher's grasp. Bale acted promptly, shoving Dorothy towards Farwell before he could strike again. It gave Christopher the moment he needed to snatch the other sword from the wall. They were now fighting on equal terms.

    Sparks flew as the blades clashed but it was Farwell's arm that now trembled on impact. Time was against him. Christopher was younger, stronger and more agile. Farwell was bound to tire first. He therefore summoned up all of his remaining energy and hurled himself at his opponent, flailing away with his sword as if intending to hack him to pieces. Christopher ducked, dodged, prodded, parried and retreated. The sleeve of his coat was ripped apart but he sustained no injury. He knew that he was winning. As Farwell's attack weakened, Christopher was able to hit back, swinging the heavy sword at his adversary.

    He backed him against a wall then feinted cleverly before thrusting his sword point at Farwell's arm. With a yell of pain, Maurice Farwell dropped his weapon to the floor with a clatter. He put his other hand up to the wound. Christopher relaxed. Pouring with sweat and panting from the effort he had made, he stepped away and lowered his sword. Farwell was not finished yet. Seizing the other weapon, he used it like a lance and hurled it hard at Christopher. It missed its target. Christopher stooped low, the sword shot over his head and it was Dorothy Kitson who was struck by its sharp point. Hit in the chest, she staggered back, uttered a cry of disbelief then collapsed on the marble floor with blood streaming down her dress. Maurice Farwell dropped his sword and darted across to hold her.

    His resistance was over.

     When he was released from the Tower of London, Sir Julius Cheever found that his younger daughter had come to take him home. Christopher Redmayne was with her but he left one piece of information to Susan. They were in the coach before she told her father about Dorothy Kitson's involvement in the conspiracy against him. He was pole-axed by the news and dazed even more when he heard of the accident with the sword.

    'Will she live?' he asked.

    'Yes,' said Christopher. 'A surgeon was able to save her though she may not thank him for doing so when she faces her trial. Maurice Farwell was inconsolable. He feared that he had killed her.'

    'Dorothy and Maurice Farwell,' said Sir Julius, incredulously. 'I would never have linked their names together. I always thought that Farwell was happily married.'

    'That was the impression he strove hard to give in public,' said Christopher. 'It acted as a screen for his private life.'

    'But what could possibly have brought them together?'

    'Religion, Sir Julius.'

    'Roman Catholics?'

    'Both of them were devout. Their faith was like their friendship - something deep and lasting that had to be kept secret. Though I doubt if any pope would have blessed their union.'

    'They were sinners,' said Susan. 'Capable of any crime.'

    'All this makes me feel very foolish,' confessed Sir Julius on the verge of tears. 'I was taken in completely. How ridiculous I must look now. Just think. I wanted that woman to be your stepmother, Susan.'

    'Try to forget her, Father.'

    'I can never do that.'

    She gave him more details of the investigation that had finally led to his release, explaining the vital importance of the letter found in his book of sonnets, and stressing the crucial part that Christopher had played throughout.

    'God bless you, Christopher,' said Sir Julius, taking his hand between both palms. 'I owe you everything. A thousand thanks.'

    'Save some of those for Jonathan Bale,' said the other. 'It was his sensitive nose that led us to the brewery. Oh, and Patrick McCoy must not be forgotten either.'

    "Who is he?'

    'The landlady's son from the Saracen's Head. He helped to capture Samuel Greene, the man who was sent after me.'

    'You should not have gone down that alleyway,' chided Susan.

    'I had to tempt him somehow.'

    'Not with your life, Christopher.'

    She spoke with such love and concern that he knew she had forgiven him his earlier mistakes. Christopher was reminded that someone else deserved a degree of gratitude.

    'My brother made his contribution,' he said. 'Henry not only educated me in the black arts of political life, he discovered that it was Maurice Farwell who penned that callous attack on you in the play, and who led the laughter when you entered parliament.'

    'Brilliana scourged him unfairly,' observed Susan.

    'I would not go that far. Henry did go astray at times. Your sister's harsh words were a sobering experience for him in a number of ways. But I must add one more thing in his favour,' Christopher told them. 'I needed an example of Farwell's hand to compare it with that in the letter sent about your visit to Cambridge. Within the hour, Henry had answered my plea.'

    'How?'

    'By going to the Navy Office. He reasoned that someone as important as a Privy Councillor must have had correspondence with the Surveyor at some time or another, so he went through the boxes of letters like a whirlwind.' He laughed. 'He not only found what he was after. Henry was so zealous at his task that his superior was very impressed. He actually commended my brother.'

    'Then I shall do so as well,' said Sir Julius.

    'Look for no commendation from Brilliana,' warned Susan.

    'Henry will not seek it,' said Christopher. 'He's content simply to share in the joy of your father's escape, and in the arrest of those who plotted against him.'

    'But why? That's what I never understood. Why did they conspire against him like that?'

    'I had to be silenced,' said Sir Julius. 'My voice was getting too loud in the Parliament House.'

    'That was not the reason, Sir Julius.'

    'What else?'

    'They thought you were the author of that pamphlet that created such a scandal. It attacked popery and unfettered power. When we discovered that copy in your study, I was convinced that you had actually written it. Is that correct, Sir Julius?'

    'Unfortunately, it's not,' replied the other. 'I'd have been proud to claim it as my work because I shared so many of its sentiments. But I've neither the wit nor the scholarship to produce something like that.' He smiled at Christopher. 'Since you have fought so bravely on my behalf, you deserve to know the truth.'

    'Lewis Bircroft? Was he the author?'

    'No - and neither was Arthur Manville.'

    'Then who was, Sir Julius?'

    'Bernard Everett.'

    Christopher gaped. 'Are you sure?'

    'He let me read it before it went to the printer.'

    'But do you see what this means?'

    'I think so,' said Sir Julius.

    "Well, I do not,' said Susan. 'What is its significance?'

    'A man was sent to shoot your father in Knightrider Street,' said Christopher, 'because it was supposed that he was the author of the pamphlet. It was Mrs Kitson who discovered that Sir Julius would be there that day and Erasmus Howlett who put an assassin in position at the Saracen's Head.'

    'Then Mr Everett was killed by mistake.'

    'But it was
not
a mistake,' said Sir Julius.

    'We know that now,' Christopher said, 'but they did not. How ironic! In hindsight, all the efforts they took to kill Sir Julius were quite unnecessary. Without realising it, they had already killed the right man.'