Lord Protector on the eighth day of February?"
"I do."
Thurloe sighed. “I see. Do you know what the punishment is for the attempted assassination of the Lord Protector?"
Thamsine stared at him.
"Hanging, drawing and quartering. Have you ever seen a man hanged, drawn and quartered?"
She shook her head.
"First they will take you to the gibbet and hang you until you are not quite dead. Then you will be cut down and you will be disembowelled, your head and limbs cut from the body and dispersed about the kingdom as a warning to others.” He watched her face from beneath his hooded eyes. “It is an unpleasant way to die."
"For a woman?” Thamsine's voice shook.
"There may be some leniency but it cannot be guaranteed."
"What proof do you have that I committed this deed?"
"I am afraid my dear, Mistress Granville, I have a witness who has clearly identified you as the perpetrator of this heinous act."
"Who is this eyewitness?"
"Someone who saw you hurl the brickbat and then saw you again singing I believe, another violation of the law by the way, in a tavern. There is no mistake."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “If, just if, I were to admit to such an offence would it...? Would it make it easier?"
Thurloe moved from his place by the window to the fire. He prodded the logs for a moment or two as if deep in thought.
"It may depend on the reason why such an act was committed,” he said at last. He crossed his arms and fixed her with dark eyes over a hawkish nose. “Do you admit you threw the brickbat?"
She nodded.
"Did you act alone or in concert with others?"
She looked up at him. “Quite alone."
"The State has many enemies, Mistress Granville. There are those who would use any means to see the death of the Lord Protector. You have never had any business with such malignants who might have ordered you to take this step?"
She shook her head. “Master Thurloe, I assure you I acted quite alone."
"What of those who were also taken at the Ship Inn? What dealings have you had with them?"
"None,” Thamsine protested.
"You have never attended any of their meetings. Been privy to their plotting?"
"No.” Thamsine's voice rose. “I knew none of them, except...” She bit off the last name.
"Except?"
"Except Captain Lovell."
"And how do you know him?"
"He ... he was a friend of my brother.” The lie came easily.
"How do you come to be working in a tavern known to be haunted by Lovell and his friends?"
Thamsine swallowed. Her mouth was dry. “He helped me gain some employment there."
Thurloe did not respond, watching her face from under his hooded eyes. “You are evidently well born. What about your family, Mistress Granville? How do you come to be singing tavern ditties and serving ale in a common inn?"
"I have told you the truth Master Thurloe. I have no family. They are all dead.” Her voice began to waver. “I have been forced to vacate my home and have been living on the streets of London for nearly six months. That day I reached a point of despair. There was no pre-meditation. It was an impulsive act of desperation, nothing more sinister than that."
Thurloe was silent, regarding her thoughtfully. “I am inclined to believe you, Mistress Granville,” he said at last. “The question is, did you intend by your actions to kill the Lord Protector?” He crossed to the table and sat down on the far side of it.
Thamsine managed a wan smile, spreading her hands in a dissembling motion. “My lord, I'm a woman. Do you truly believe that I had the strength or capability to hurl such an awkward missile with an intent to kill?"
"Well, for a frail woman, you made quite a dent in the carriage, Mistress Granville.” He sat back considering her, one finger laid against his mouth. His silences were disconcerting.
"Will I die?” Thamsine looked down at her manacled hands, twisted together so tightly that the knuckles showed white.
"I shall make a report to Council and they shall make the decision
"I do."
Thurloe sighed. “I see. Do you know what the punishment is for the attempted assassination of the Lord Protector?"
Thamsine stared at him.
"Hanging, drawing and quartering. Have you ever seen a man hanged, drawn and quartered?"
She shook her head.
"First they will take you to the gibbet and hang you until you are not quite dead. Then you will be cut down and you will be disembowelled, your head and limbs cut from the body and dispersed about the kingdom as a warning to others.” He watched her face from beneath his hooded eyes. “It is an unpleasant way to die."
"For a woman?” Thamsine's voice shook.
"There may be some leniency but it cannot be guaranteed."
"What proof do you have that I committed this deed?"
"I am afraid my dear, Mistress Granville, I have a witness who has clearly identified you as the perpetrator of this heinous act."
"Who is this eyewitness?"
"Someone who saw you hurl the brickbat and then saw you again singing I believe, another violation of the law by the way, in a tavern. There is no mistake."
She took a deep, shuddering breath. “If, just if, I were to admit to such an offence would it...? Would it make it easier?"
Thurloe moved from his place by the window to the fire. He prodded the logs for a moment or two as if deep in thought.
"It may depend on the reason why such an act was committed,” he said at last. He crossed his arms and fixed her with dark eyes over a hawkish nose. “Do you admit you threw the brickbat?"
She nodded.
"Did you act alone or in concert with others?"
She looked up at him. “Quite alone."
"The State has many enemies, Mistress Granville. There are those who would use any means to see the death of the Lord Protector. You have never had any business with such malignants who might have ordered you to take this step?"
She shook her head. “Master Thurloe, I assure you I acted quite alone."
"What of those who were also taken at the Ship Inn? What dealings have you had with them?"
"None,” Thamsine protested.
"You have never attended any of their meetings. Been privy to their plotting?"
"No.” Thamsine's voice rose. “I knew none of them, except...” She bit off the last name.
"Except?"
"Except Captain Lovell."
"And how do you know him?"
"He ... he was a friend of my brother.” The lie came easily.
"How do you come to be working in a tavern known to be haunted by Lovell and his friends?"
Thamsine swallowed. Her mouth was dry. “He helped me gain some employment there."
Thurloe did not respond, watching her face from under his hooded eyes. “You are evidently well born. What about your family, Mistress Granville? How do you come to be singing tavern ditties and serving ale in a common inn?"
"I have told you the truth Master Thurloe. I have no family. They are all dead.” Her voice began to waver. “I have been forced to vacate my home and have been living on the streets of London for nearly six months. That day I reached a point of despair. There was no pre-meditation. It was an impulsive act of desperation, nothing more sinister than that."
Thurloe was silent, regarding her thoughtfully. “I am inclined to believe you, Mistress Granville,” he said at last. “The question is, did you intend by your actions to kill the Lord Protector?” He crossed to the table and sat down on the far side of it.
Thamsine managed a wan smile, spreading her hands in a dissembling motion. “My lord, I'm a woman. Do you truly believe that I had the strength or capability to hurl such an awkward missile with an intent to kill?"
"Well, for a frail woman, you made quite a dent in the carriage, Mistress Granville.” He sat back considering her, one finger laid against his mouth. His silences were disconcerting.
"Will I die?” Thamsine looked down at her manacled hands, twisted together so tightly that the knuckles showed white.
"I shall make a report to Council and they shall make the decision
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