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Authors: Paul C. Doherty
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Council. Sir Robert, Benjamin Daunbey and his servant, Roger Shallot.'
Clinton smiled and sketched a bow to both of us. He seemed a courtly gentleman with the inbred manners of a diplomat. Venner gave a gap-toothed grin.
'Sir Robert,' Agrippa continued, 'Master Benjamin and his manservant will be in your retinue. They will travel to Maubisson to determine the true cause of Falconer's death and assist you in the hunting down of Raphael.'
'My Lord Cardinal, Doctor Agrippa.' Clinton's face was now severe. 'You already have my thoughts on this matter. Raphael may well be in England. I speak for all the servants of the embassy in Paris. They are loyal to His Majesty.'
'Yes, yes,' Wolsey testily interrupted. 'But we have established that the French only seem to know our secrets after the king's letters and memoranda are delivered to our embassy in Paris.'
'Yes, yes, Your Grace,' Clinton snapped back, revealing the tension between the two of them. 'And you also know my thoughts on that. His Majesty should stop such letters being sent.'
'Sir Robert,' Agrippa smoothly intervened, 'we have been down this path before. If our embassy in France cannot receive its instructions, His Majesty's affairs there will come to a halt.' 'How long has this been going on?' I asked.
Clinton looked at me in surprise, Wolsey in annoyance as if resenting my interruption.
'About eighteen to twenty months!' Agrippa snapped back.
Benjamin nudged me to keep quiet. I looked away and went cold with fright. Agrippa's black cat sat beneath one of the heavy, gold-encrusted arrasses, crouched like a panther, his amber eyes studying me as if I was a mouse. Not a blink, not a change of expression. I looked back at Agrippa. His eyes had turned the same colour and I caught a whiff of that strange perfume which sometimes emanated from him, sweet but sickly. He, too, was watching me and I shivered. What deadly game, I wondered, was about to begin?
'Your Grace,' Clinton spoke up, 'your nephew and his companion will be most welcome in our retinue but I cannot promise you any success.' 'Like your last mission!' Wolsey snapped.
Clinton flinched. Wolsey stretched out a hand and patted him gently on the shoulder.
'Sir Robert,' he said softly, 'my words were harsh. I withdraw them. It was due to your efforts that we discovered the name of Raphael.' 'How's that?' Benjamin asked.
Clinton smiled and I noticed how white and even his teeth were. A careful, precise man, I thought at the time, one who looked after his health.
'Over two months ago,' Clinton explained, 'I and my wife, the Lady Francesca, visited Maubisson just before Lent to see what help could be given in tracking the spy down.' He shook his head. 'I think it was the week before Ash Wednesday. Falconer – well, Giles, for he and I were friends – devised a scheme whereby one of our agents would use one of Paris's most expensive whores to trap a leading member of the Luciferi. She passed on to our agent the name Raphael, though he paid for it with his life. He was attacked and killed whilst leaving Paris.' Clinton shrugged. 'I returned to England after Holy Week had begun. Six weeks later Falconer was discovered at the base of the tower.' He looked at Wolsey. 'My Lord Cardinal, have you told your nephew of the other matter?'
Wolsey stroked his chin as if feeling the gentle stubble now growing there. 'Ah, yes, the king's matter. Doctor Agrippa?'
The magician turned, stared at the cat and said something in a strange language. The cat immediately rose, padding like a shadow across the floor, and jumped into its master's lap. He played for a few seconds with the animal's jewelled collar then turned his eyes on me. I shivered for they were soulless, clear as ice.
'The matter of the king,' Agrippa announced, and I remembered a previous conversation with him on the wild heathlands of Leicester, how he had described Henry as the Great Dark Prince, the Mouldwarp. He was now using his powers to remind me of that
Clinton smiled and sketched a bow to both of us. He seemed a courtly gentleman with the inbred manners of a diplomat. Venner gave a gap-toothed grin.
'Sir Robert,' Agrippa continued, 'Master Benjamin and his manservant will be in your retinue. They will travel to Maubisson to determine the true cause of Falconer's death and assist you in the hunting down of Raphael.'
'My Lord Cardinal, Doctor Agrippa.' Clinton's face was now severe. 'You already have my thoughts on this matter. Raphael may well be in England. I speak for all the servants of the embassy in Paris. They are loyal to His Majesty.'
'Yes, yes,' Wolsey testily interrupted. 'But we have established that the French only seem to know our secrets after the king's letters and memoranda are delivered to our embassy in Paris.'
'Yes, yes, Your Grace,' Clinton snapped back, revealing the tension between the two of them. 'And you also know my thoughts on that. His Majesty should stop such letters being sent.'
'Sir Robert,' Agrippa smoothly intervened, 'we have been down this path before. If our embassy in France cannot receive its instructions, His Majesty's affairs there will come to a halt.' 'How long has this been going on?' I asked.
Clinton looked at me in surprise, Wolsey in annoyance as if resenting my interruption.
'About eighteen to twenty months!' Agrippa snapped back.
Benjamin nudged me to keep quiet. I looked away and went cold with fright. Agrippa's black cat sat beneath one of the heavy, gold-encrusted arrasses, crouched like a panther, his amber eyes studying me as if I was a mouse. Not a blink, not a change of expression. I looked back at Agrippa. His eyes had turned the same colour and I caught a whiff of that strange perfume which sometimes emanated from him, sweet but sickly. He, too, was watching me and I shivered. What deadly game, I wondered, was about to begin?
'Your Grace,' Clinton spoke up, 'your nephew and his companion will be most welcome in our retinue but I cannot promise you any success.' 'Like your last mission!' Wolsey snapped.
Clinton flinched. Wolsey stretched out a hand and patted him gently on the shoulder.
'Sir Robert,' he said softly, 'my words were harsh. I withdraw them. It was due to your efforts that we discovered the name of Raphael.' 'How's that?' Benjamin asked.
Clinton smiled and I noticed how white and even his teeth were. A careful, precise man, I thought at the time, one who looked after his health.
'Over two months ago,' Clinton explained, 'I and my wife, the Lady Francesca, visited Maubisson just before Lent to see what help could be given in tracking the spy down.' He shook his head. 'I think it was the week before Ash Wednesday. Falconer – well, Giles, for he and I were friends – devised a scheme whereby one of our agents would use one of Paris's most expensive whores to trap a leading member of the Luciferi. She passed on to our agent the name Raphael, though he paid for it with his life. He was attacked and killed whilst leaving Paris.' Clinton shrugged. 'I returned to England after Holy Week had begun. Six weeks later Falconer was discovered at the base of the tower.' He looked at Wolsey. 'My Lord Cardinal, have you told your nephew of the other matter?'
Wolsey stroked his chin as if feeling the gentle stubble now growing there. 'Ah, yes, the king's matter. Doctor Agrippa?'
The magician turned, stared at the cat and said something in a strange language. The cat immediately rose, padding like a shadow across the floor, and jumped into its master's lap. He played for a few seconds with the animal's jewelled collar then turned his eyes on me. I shivered for they were soulless, clear as ice.
'The matter of the king,' Agrippa announced, and I remembered a previous conversation with him on the wild heathlands of Leicester, how he had described Henry as the Great Dark Prince, the Mouldwarp. He was now using his powers to remind me of that
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