Read Online Marbeck and the King-in-Waiting by John Pilkington - Free Book Online

the Privy Council in their present posts – in other words, just now Cecil reigns as if he were in the monarch’s place.’
    â€˜Hasn’t he always done?’ Marbeck observed wryly.
    â€˜In recent years, perhaps,’ Poyns allowed. ‘But in James Stuart, he’ll find someone less amenable than Elizabeth. They say he means to bring a great party of Scots south with him. He’s laid his plans well, in expectation of succession – almost as if he were certain of it.’
    â€˜It was always believed he and Cecil were corresponding in secret,’ Marbeck said. ‘Indeed, our master’s too shrewd not to have smoothed the way. He looks to his own future as much as to England’s.’
    â€˜Then perhaps we should do the same,’ Poyns murmured.
    â€˜Which means?’
    â€˜That, having mulled it over, I may not go to London after all. I think it wise to get to James before Master Secretary does. Cecil’s a poor horseman … he’d hate the thought of a long ride. Whereas you and I have a head start.’
    Marbeck eyed him. ‘I’d thought of going to Huntingdon,’ he said. ‘It straddles the north road … and I think Gow’s gone in that direction.’
    â€˜Why? To await the new King, and preach at him?’ Poyns put on a sardonic look. ‘Yet on reflection, going there might be a better course. Indeed, if you decide to continue as a musician, perhaps I’ll join you.’
    â€˜You?’ Marbeck raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know you played an instrument.’
    â€˜I don’t,’ Poyns replied. ‘But I have a fair singing voice – will that serve?’
    So it was decided quickly. The following morning the two intelligencers left Cambridge, taking the road north-west and crossing the county border into Huntingdonshire. The distance to Huntingdon was a little over fifteen miles, and though the way was still muddy their journey was done by midday. With the church bells clanging, they rode through Godmanchester and crossed the Great Ouse by the stone bridge, entering the county town whose streets were as busy as those of Cambridge. Both men had passed through Huntingdon before, and soon got their bearings. While Poyns went to hire a room at the George Inn, Marbeck chose to look round. Taking leave of his fellow he rode upriver a short distance, at last finding himself at the great house of Hinchingbrooke, where he halted.
    He could not help but admire it. Hinchingbrooke, a country mansion, looked even grander than when he had last seen it. It belonged to the wealthy Cromwell family; Queen Elizabeth had stayed here on one of her progresses, the guest of Sir Henry Cromwell. He gazed at the house, with its fine stonework and tall windows, standing in its own park. It struck him that here was a likely place for King James to stay on his eventual procession south. Indeed, all along the North Road and close to it, he guessed prominent noblemen would be readying their homes in hopes of a royal visit. Offering hospitality to the monarch and his train, though a costly business, could lead to preferment, even titles; and by all accounts the Scottish King was generous with gifts that cost him nothing to bestow. Musing on that, Marbeck turned Cobb about and made his way back to the town. Having seen the horse stabled, he entered the George and discovered Poyns in the taproom nursing a mug.
    â€˜The chamber’s adequate,’ he said as Marbeck approached. ‘We’re lucky to get it – the place is almost full. Sit – I have further news.’
    With a glance round at the drinkers, Marbeck found a stool. But as he sat down, he remembered. ‘I forgot to pen a letter to Lady Scroop. I must do it today—’
    â€˜I wouldn’t, just yet,’ Poyns interrupted. ‘This news I spoke of concerns our friend Gow.’ When Marbeck looked sharply at him, he added: ‘There’s a