Read Online The Poisoned Chalice by Michael Clynes - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Clynes
Tags: Historical Novel
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Benjamin quoted the last phrase from the agreement he had signed with Wolsey. 'Uncle, you must trust us more!'
Wolsey's hard eyes softened as he gazed back at Benjamin. For a few seconds that stony-visaged politician looked kindly and I realised that, apart from his mistress, Benjamin was one of the few people Wolsey really loved. The cardinal turned and stroked Agrippa's cat.
'My nephew is right,' he said softly. 'Let us describe the task.'
Agrippa rose, putting the cat gently down on the floor.
He stood beside the cardinal's chair, leaning against it with one hand on its gilded back.
'Our noble king,' he began, 'now wishes to contain the power of France. He can do that by alliance with the Emperor Charles V and the Hapsburgs who control the Low Countries and Spain. We intend to ring France and contain it like an army encircles a castle. Unfortunately, the French know in advance every move we make. We have spies in Paris, and the French Luciferi are in London. The difference is, the Luciferi have someone close to our hearts who betrays our every step and turn. Matters have now come to a head. The English embassy in France has a mansion in the Rue des Medeans, but in early spring they moved to a small castle outside Paris, the Chateau de Maubisson.
'At the chateau are a number of officials: Sir John Dacourt, our ambassador; his chief clerk, Walter Peckle; Doctor Thomas Throgmorton, physician; Michael Millet, personal assistant and clerk to Sir John Dacourt; and the man responsible for our agents ... or rather, who was, Giles Falconer. We already knew there was a spy either in England or France selling secrets to the French. It was Falconer who discovered the spy's code-name: Raphael.'
'How?' Benjamin asked quietly.
'One of Falconer's agents was discovered in the Rue des Billets. He had been stabbed a number of times but, before he died, he used his own blood to etch on a piece of parchment the name Raphael. Now on Easter Monday last [almost six weeks ago I thought], Falconer retired to his chamber. Late that night both Millet and Throgmorton heard him going upstairs to the top of one of the towers of the chateau. Millet peeped out of his chamber, Falconer had a goblet in his hand, he was smiling but not drunk. Throgmorton heard him singing. On Tuesday morning, Falconer was found at the base of the tower, his neck broke, his head shattered.'
'He could have slipped,' Benjamin said.
'Impossible. The tower does have a crenellated wall but the gaps have iron bars across to prevent anyone falling. Moreover, the tower roof is sprinkled with fine sand to prevent anyone slipping. Throgmorton, who surveyed the area after Falconer's body had been discovered, found no trace of any such slip or, indeed, of anyone else being with Falconer on the top of the tower.'
'Could it have been suicide?' I asked.
'I doubt it. The rest of the embassy met Falconer at dinner that Monday. He was as happy as ever. Falconer was a bachelor but a man in love with life. He enjoyed his work and was one of the best agents we had.' Agrippa's eyes hardened. 'Indeed, he was a personal friend of mine.'
Another black magician? I wondered.
'No,' he snapped, 'Falconer was murdered.'
'The wine,' I asked. 'Was it poisoned?'
Agrippa smiled sweetly. 'We considered that but Sir John Dacourt, an honest old soldier, was with Falconer in his room when he broached the bottle. Dacourt had a cup of the same wine and suffered no ill effects.'
'Who could be the murderer?' I asked.
'Any of those four. Oh,' he added, 'we missed out one person: Richard Waldegrave, the chaplain.'
'You wish us to go to Paris?' Benjamin interrupted.
'Yes, we do, so perhaps it's time you met your companions.'
Wolsey picked up a silver bell but Agrippa raised his hand.
'Lord Cardinal, I believe your nephew has further questions?'
Benjamin gazed at the cardinal, then at his familiar.
'Doctor Agrippa,' he asked, 'when matters are decided regarding France, how are such conclusions reached and
Wolsey's hard eyes softened as he gazed back at Benjamin. For a few seconds that stony-visaged politician looked kindly and I realised that, apart from his mistress, Benjamin was one of the few people Wolsey really loved. The cardinal turned and stroked Agrippa's cat.
'My nephew is right,' he said softly. 'Let us describe the task.'
Agrippa rose, putting the cat gently down on the floor.
He stood beside the cardinal's chair, leaning against it with one hand on its gilded back.
'Our noble king,' he began, 'now wishes to contain the power of France. He can do that by alliance with the Emperor Charles V and the Hapsburgs who control the Low Countries and Spain. We intend to ring France and contain it like an army encircles a castle. Unfortunately, the French know in advance every move we make. We have spies in Paris, and the French Luciferi are in London. The difference is, the Luciferi have someone close to our hearts who betrays our every step and turn. Matters have now come to a head. The English embassy in France has a mansion in the Rue des Medeans, but in early spring they moved to a small castle outside Paris, the Chateau de Maubisson.
'At the chateau are a number of officials: Sir John Dacourt, our ambassador; his chief clerk, Walter Peckle; Doctor Thomas Throgmorton, physician; Michael Millet, personal assistant and clerk to Sir John Dacourt; and the man responsible for our agents ... or rather, who was, Giles Falconer. We already knew there was a spy either in England or France selling secrets to the French. It was Falconer who discovered the spy's code-name: Raphael.'
'How?' Benjamin asked quietly.
'One of Falconer's agents was discovered in the Rue des Billets. He had been stabbed a number of times but, before he died, he used his own blood to etch on a piece of parchment the name Raphael. Now on Easter Monday last [almost six weeks ago I thought], Falconer retired to his chamber. Late that night both Millet and Throgmorton heard him going upstairs to the top of one of the towers of the chateau. Millet peeped out of his chamber, Falconer had a goblet in his hand, he was smiling but not drunk. Throgmorton heard him singing. On Tuesday morning, Falconer was found at the base of the tower, his neck broke, his head shattered.'
'He could have slipped,' Benjamin said.
'Impossible. The tower does have a crenellated wall but the gaps have iron bars across to prevent anyone falling. Moreover, the tower roof is sprinkled with fine sand to prevent anyone slipping. Throgmorton, who surveyed the area after Falconer's body had been discovered, found no trace of any such slip or, indeed, of anyone else being with Falconer on the top of the tower.'
'Could it have been suicide?' I asked.
'I doubt it. The rest of the embassy met Falconer at dinner that Monday. He was as happy as ever. Falconer was a bachelor but a man in love with life. He enjoyed his work and was one of the best agents we had.' Agrippa's eyes hardened. 'Indeed, he was a personal friend of mine.'
Another black magician? I wondered.
'No,' he snapped, 'Falconer was murdered.'
'The wine,' I asked. 'Was it poisoned?'
Agrippa smiled sweetly. 'We considered that but Sir John Dacourt, an honest old soldier, was with Falconer in his room when he broached the bottle. Dacourt had a cup of the same wine and suffered no ill effects.'
'Who could be the murderer?' I asked.
'Any of those four. Oh,' he added, 'we missed out one person: Richard Waldegrave, the chaplain.'
'You wish us to go to Paris?' Benjamin interrupted.
'Yes, we do, so perhaps it's time you met your companions.'
Wolsey picked up a silver bell but Agrippa raised his hand.
'Lord Cardinal, I believe your nephew has further questions?'
Benjamin gazed at the cardinal, then at his familiar.
'Doctor Agrippa,' he asked, 'when matters are decided regarding France, how are such conclusions reached and
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