Death of Kings by Philip Gooden

Author:Philip Gooden [Gooden, Philip]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781472103833
Publisher: Constable & Robinson

Nemo

I read this several times over but was none the wiser. In fact, I was significantly more confused. The note raised a host of questions and answered none. Why should I go back to Essex House? And why on the Sunday morning? What was supposed to happen then, happen there? How did he – Nemo – know what was likely to transpire in the enemy camp when he was in Cecil’s employ? What did the reference to my Company and their ‘foul play’ mean? Was it a joke? If so, it wasn’t one that I was privy to. And how could I, a humble player, protect the Chamberlain’s? Was this scrap of paper, found in a dead man’s hand, really from Nemo? This was about the only point that I was able to answer with a degree of assurance. Probably it was his; the tone, half jocular, half threatening (that reference to ‘trunk-work’), seemed typical of the man. And I already had experience of how he employed Nat as a messenger.

It was evident that matters were coming to a head. Of course, Cecil and the Council were desperate to be kept informed, but why should I act as their agent? Because I had a foot in both camps, a little voice whispered inside my head. I was a player – and there was obviously a faction among the players which was not ill-disposed towards the Essex cause – but I was also a true Englishman, loyal to my sovereign and mindful of the commonwealth. That was the lever which they were using to get me to act as a spy, that and my fatal intimacy with Mistress Horner.

Anyway, all this was pretty much beside the point. They’d got me in a corner, had tied me to a stake like Stubbes the bear. If I had a foot in both camps I was also caught between them. If I didn’t do as Nemo’s note instructed, then it looked as though the Chamberlain’s Company might suffer. Perhaps it was arrogance to think so, but if I was able to safeguard the Company by making a return visit to Essex House, this was surely a small task to undertake. I toyed for a moment with the notion of running and telling all I knew to Dick Burbage or Master WS, there and then. I trusted them much more than I trusted the ash-complexioned, soft-mouthed Nemo. Him I trusted not at all.

But I could easily be painted as a government spy in the Globe, someone who had voluntarily agreed to work for the authorities. Had I not already betrayed the Company in some small sense by cuckolding one of my fellows? The taste of that double-dealing was not pleasant in the mouth, although it had been overtaken by the terrible discovery that Mistress Horner wanted to do away with me. And how could I explain that to anyone? Go up to Jack Horner and say, “Oh by the way your wife nearly succeeded in poisoning me the other night.

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