On The Queen’s Service

                                                                                        Part the Fourth

 

“What think you, Stick, of this thing of Jane?” Fletcher asked his catamite as they rode toward the river and a ferry there to take them to Westminster where they should meet with Mr. Secretary himself.

“I know not what to think,” Stick answered truthfully, for he was much bemused by those happenings.

“It is an exercise in intelligencing, Stick. Use your apprentice mind and let us see where your thoughts lead you.”

“I know not where to start, sir. It is all confusion to me.”

“In matters of intelligencing, little is plain and clear to start. If it were there would be no mystery to solve, no plot to unravel.  But here there is both mystery and plot and it is for you to unravel. Start with the thing most obvious to you, the thing most strange, the thing that above all things stays loud in your mind. Then you see if that thing leads you to another, and if it does, will it also lead back to a thing before it, for if it go in one direction only then you follow a false trail.”

Stick nodded his understanding; this was a test of his skill, a test of his young intelligencer mind, a plot and mystery for him to unravel.

He watched his horse pick its way carefully through the filth of the street, taking animal care in the placing of its hooves each time. A firm landing here, and then another and another, and he saw that this is what he must do with his thoughts. He needed a firm place from which to start and the most obvious was also the most strange.

“That Jane did offer her child to be for your bed if it be a boy,” Stick said, “That was the thing most unusual of all.”

“But is that so unusual?” Fletcher asked, though he was secret pleased that his apprentice had begun there. “Did not your father sell you to Mr.Goodboy that you would be used in the beds of men? Is that so very different?”

“I think it be, sir,” Stick said with some little conviction, “For when he did sell me so, I was ten years of age and not an unborn child. He did sell me knowing that in the employ of Mr.Goodboy I would not starve, and that though men aplenty would swive me yet would I be taken care of.”

“So why does Jane not wait ten years before offering her boy for my bed think you?”

“Because she knew not if in ten years time she would be still in your service.”

“But had I not said I would not dismiss her before she made her offer?”

“Then she made that offer as a bribe, one that would bind her service to you for that length of time. But not,” Stick ventured further, “As a thing unplanned, for it seems now to me that this is a thing she had thought much on. She trusted not on your nature to not cast her onto the streets when she did show in her belly that she was with child as most men would, but knowing of all the kindness you have shown to me, did take the chance that you would be kind also to her if she revealed her secret early.”

“Keep going, Stick,” Fletcher encouraged, much pleased with the working of the mind of his apprentice.

“I see it now,” Stick beamed a smile of understanding, pleased with himself for unravelling this plot. “She had waited for the chance to reveal her secret in such a wise that you would be compassionate towards her, and what better time could there be than following a swiving such as we had swived.
That you had ridden me so fully past the line of finish gave her chance to talk of Robert and the care that they must take, and she allowed you to make discovery that she was in the family way and tearfully proclaim her fears of being cast out. When you said that such would you not do she offered then her boy, should she be delivered of such, for your pleasure and bed when he was of sufficient years. Not a bribe at all, but the sealing of a bargain between you.”

Stick leaned back on his horse, much pleased with the workings of his mind.

“And of Robert, her husband to be? What of his thoughts in this matter of his child in my bed?”

“I would hazard,” Stick declared in full confidence that he had solved the plot. “That this is a thing they had talked of and that Robert had given his agreement to. Were she to be cast out and reduced to whoring in the Rookery then the child, if it be boy or maid, would be whoring there also before it reached near ten years of age.”

“Well done, Stick, I am most pleased with you. You have uses after all more than just as catamite, though as catamite you do have much use indeed. It may be that perhaps more of Jane’s butter will be needed when next we get to home.”

“Indeed, I will be not loath if it be so,” Stick grinned broadly, for of all his duties, he was still boy enough to most enjoy those duties when they were the duties of a catamite.

Walsingham sat, as he always did, behind a table of oak, its legs carved but in a simple pattern, for Walsingham was a man who had no time for things of fancy nature.

His face also, betrayed only its usual distanced and reserved feature, and when he spoke it was in so plain a wise as to be almost monotone.

He was not alone in his chamber when Fletcher entered there with his apprentice, but was attended upon by one who stood more in shadow than in the light from the wide windows.

“Good morrow, Mr Fletcher,” the shadowed figure greeted upon the entrance of Fletcher to Walsingham’s chamber, “And good morrow to your boy also, though I know him not by name.”

“And good morrow to you, Sly,” Fletcher acknowledged the shadow, for he was one known to him as a watcher of Walsingham’s. “You keep still to the shadows I see, even in the presence of Mr.Secretary.”

“A habit, Mr.Fletcher, one that I seek not to break for in the shadows there is safety for such as me.”

“He has intelligence for you, Thomas,” Walsingham said quietly, “Intelligence that may be of some use in the discovery of the murder of this Sir James from Marlborough.”

“You’ll be wanting to know what he did and where he went on his departure from Mr.Goodboy’s house of pleasure,” Sly said from the shadow, “And no doubt that information will have some value to you.”

“Have not you been already paid for what you know?” Fletcher questioned, for he understood clearly enough that Sly hoped to gain coin from his words.

“A pittance for my watching, but my words on what I saw are for you, Mr.Fletcher,” Sly’s voice oozed from where he stood. “Paid for my watching but not for my reporting on that watching.”

“Enough, Sly,” Walsingham’s words were delivered in the same tone he used always, “Five extra shillings for your words.”

“Are they worth no more?” Sly asked, “Then they can be of little value to Mr.Fletcher if they be worth so little to you.”

That this was but a game, Fletcher knew well enough, for he had dealt with Sly many times before; and he knew also that Walsingham was not one who had times for games.

“Speak, Sly and be content,” Walsingham instructed, and Sly so did.

“Your knight did leave the house of Mr.Goodboy some hour before the time of curfew, and left not in the sort of temper that men usually leave that house, uttering foul curses that he had been supplied a boy with an arse so wide a horse could enter there and be noticed not.
He then did mount his own nag and make for Southwark, for though the places of entertainment there be closed well before that hour yet there are taverns there many, where whores and Ganymedes do abound.
A Ganymede he found, and one well known to some, known as the Eel for he has the skill of evading constables at night at hours when some men do seek a Ganymede for their pleasure.

“The age of this Eel?” Fletcher interrupted, thinking of the dead Ganymede he had seen in the crypt of the Searcher of the Dead.

“I could not say with certainty, Mr.Fletcher, but from what I have seen of the boy before, then I would place him at no more than eight or nine years of age. An age, you understand, Mr Fletcher, at which he can be sure of gaining much custom for his arse.”

“Were you to be shown his face would you know him?” Fletcher asked, certain in his mind that the dead boy was the one Sly had seen.

“I would, sir, though his is a face seen not often by any, less he be used by one who likes mouth before arse, that is.”

“Pray continue with your tale, Sly,” Walsingham interrupted, “For Mr.Fletcher has other matters to attend to and that shortly.”

“Well sirs,” Sly droned on, “He did put the boy upon his nag and make his way to his lodgings, to The Plucked Chicken, a tavern hard by the Shambles, a house that raises no question when men do take boys there for their beds.
The boy did leave some hour before dawn, and did leave walking most strangely,  more like a duck than a chicken I would say, and were I asked why that would be so I would venture to opine that he had been fucked most royally and oft, for it were clear his arse gave him some pain.”

“Less pain than it were to give him later, I suspect,” Fletcher muttered and did bid Sly to continue with his tale.

“Our country knight did emerge some several minutes later, and seemed to show some surprise that he was met by one who had arrived before the boy had departed, but waited close by thinking not that he was observed, for no-one sees me when I watch,” Sly boasted and looked to Walsingham for approval, but if approval there was it was not given in a manner that could be noted.

“What manner of man was this who waited in the dark for Sir James?” Fletcher wished to know, but Sly could give no clear answer to his question.

“It was before dawn, Mr Fletcher, I can tell you only that he wore a long cloak, a cloak as black as the night itself, and that he rode a fine horse that was of a colour lighter than his cloak for I could see clear where the line of the cloak crossed the body of the horse.”

“And what did they when they met?”

“Why, Mr Fletcher, they did talk a while, but with voices low so I heard not a word, but I would say from what I did see that the one in the cloak was talking to persuade the one from the house to go with him, a thing he seemed to be at first loth to do but did finally agree for they rode quietly off together.”

“Followed you them?”

“That I could not, Mr Fletcher, for few there are abroad in the hour before dawn, and those that are ride not horses, and as I had no horse to ride and none around to steal, follow them I could not. I would say only that they headed towards perhaps Moorgate, for that is a gate that opens early.”

Walsingham reached into his purse, found coins for Sly and dismissed him for there was nothing more to be learned from that man.

“Of use to you, Thomas?” Walsingham asked when Sly had departed.

“It tells us that our dead boy was a Ganymede known as Eel, that Sir James was almost certain slain by one who wore a long black cloak and rides a fine grey horse, and that if my thinking be right, he also found and slew that Ganymede in a manner most cruel, But as to who that one is I have as yet no knowledge, nor why he did those murders nor how and why those slayings are connected.”

“Then you must search and find, Thomas, search and find. And do so with utmost expedition of it be possible, for my nose informs me there is more to this than simple murder.”

“My nose has caught the same scent,” Fletcher agreed, “And I would take Sly to the Searcher’s crypt to see if the slain boy is indeed this Eel.”

“A task your boy may perform for you, for I have more words to talk with you. You will find Mr Sly held below, waiting on your pleasure,” Walsingham said to Stick, “Go prove your worth as apprentice.”

“And meet me at home,” Fletcher called to the departing boy.

“Is he of use?” Walsingham asked of the departed Stick.

“He shows signs that he has a mind to use and the wit to learn how to use it,” Fletcher answered. That Stick had other uses than those of his mind was not a matter to discuss with Secretary Walsingham, a man who had no care that his intelligencer swived boys, but was still no less a man of some puritan persuasion as evidenced by his black clothing and small and very white ruff.

“I wish to talk of Harry de Vere,” Walsingham stated, his tone of voice unchanged.

“Young Harry gave me much useful information following his encounter with Sir James,” Fletcher hastened to what he thought was the boy’s defence. “He has a quick mind, a memory that holds all it hears and an ability to coax secrets that is second to none.”

“This I know,” Walsingham waved a languid hand, dismissing Fletcher’s words as of being no import, “He is one who will prove to be of great use to our service in defence of the realm, of that I have no doubts. But, and this Thomas, is the as yet undigested fly in my web, he is a de Vere, a relative, however distant, of the Earl of Oxford, and because he is so I have to take the greatest of care where he is placed when his time with Mr Goodboy comes to an end.”

“A problem I am grateful is one not mine to solve,” Fletcher said with some feeling, for involving himself in the affairs of those of the importance as the Earl of Oxford was a thing he had no wish to do.

“Some wine I think to aid our thoughts,” Walsingham tinkled a tiny bell that sat on his desk.

One tinkle, Fletcher knew, would summon the instant appearance of a servant, a more prolonged and urgent ringing bringing guards with swords drawn through the great doors of his chamber.

The wine served and appreciated, for it was good wine, of the finest from Burgundy, though Fletcher had more wit than to enquire how Walsingham had come by it, for Burgundy now was in the hands of the French and merchants from England sailed there no more.

“To our task, then, Thomas, the matter of the young de Vere. His appearance and his talents would fit him well to become a boy player in the company of one such as Mr.Strange, think you not?”

That Harry had the ability, the memory and most certainly the looks, to be a boy player was a thing beyond doubt. That he would play the part of a coy and shy maiden or a wanton young strumpet with equal ease, and con the words of either or both within an instant was a matter of certainty.
Certain also was the attention he would attract from the gentlemen of leisure who attended plays who wished much to be better acquainted with the boys who played the parts of girls and in doing so became even more desirable as the boys they were.
And that it was a thing most accepted in the player companies that the boy players should augment their meagre income with gifts from those same gentlemen to whom they granted such favours as they had to grant, was a thing well known to all.

“In such a position he would indeed be able to gain much that may be of interest,” Fletcher consented. “Perhaps Mr Marlow may be of help in this.”

“Marlow is a man of some uses,” Walsingham almost scowled, and Fletcher recalled that there was abroad some slanderous talk that a nephew of Mr Secretary was somewhat enamoured of that writer of plays. “He has his uses,” Walsingham said again, “But he carries with him always much danger. He writes a play concerning the deposing of a king, a subject unlikely to win the approval of Her Majesty. He expresses opinion that borders on heresy, indeed if rumour that he has in mind the writing of a play that has the Devil as its main character be true, leaps well beyond that border.
To the care of such a one I can by no wise entrust the care of young de Vere.”

This Fletcher could argue not with. Marlow had done the state some service and doubtless would do it more, it could nevertheless be disregarded not that he was a dangerous man.

“I had thought to place him with Mr Strange’s Men, for that is a company that displays much merit, and has also a writer of some skill who could doubtless pen plays with parts that would show the young man’s talents at their best.”

It was true that Mr Strange’s Men were a company of players much talked of, but surely apprenticing young Harry to a sharer there would satisfy not the Earl of Oxford, and this much did Fletcher venture to say.

“I would do no such thing, Thomas, both because it would please not the Earl and also that as apprentice Harry would be oft not in London, for players travel the country and it is in London that most plots are brewed.
I thought to ask the earl to purchase him a small share so he be not apprentice but full boy player and so can come or go as he pleases. If the company leaves London, Harry will go not with them.”

“Then must he be found a place to live in London,” Fletcher said, “For if he be not apprentice to a sharer or a player, lodgings will not be available for him.”

“And it would be good, would it not Thomas, if he learned more of the intelligencer’s trade? For I do have some hopes he may rise to high position in our small service.” Walsingham eyed Fletcher, waiting to see when understanding would dawn.

It dawned not, for Fletcher considered himself to be at a loss where such a suitable placing may be made, for he knew well that whoever it were took Harry under his roof would need also to take him in his bed, and that most often, for such was the nature of that boy.

“It is obvious if you give it thought, Thomas,” Walsingham said at last. “Who know you of in this service that has much affinity for boys, that would find it by no means unusual or unnatural that a boy would have much need to be swived? One that can teach the boy our trade and make sure also that no harm befalls him other than some harm resulting from our business, and harm of such a nature would arouse not the anger of the Earl?
Know you of such a one, Thomas?”

“You wish me to take young Harry as apprentice intelligencer?” Fletcher had some difficulty in the control of his lower jaw for it did much want to open of its own accord.

“A wonderful suggestion, Thomas. I knew I could rely on you to provide the answer to my problem.”

If beaming smiles were a thing Walsingham could do then he would have beamed one then. As it was he suggested another glass of wine and told Fletcher that the matter was one of some urgency.

“My Lord of Oxford wishes to be assured that his distant nephew is in good hands, and the sooner those hands have hold of him the happier will the Earl be.”

Walsingham sipped delicately at his replenished wine cup, before issuing the condition placed on the matter by the Earl.

“He will purchase the share in Mr Strange’s company and leave the upbringing and training of his nephew to you, for I have assured him you are much to be trusted. But this upon condition that the boy himself concurs. If he wishes not to be apprenticed with you, then we must look elsewhere and think again.”

“It is, I believe, some six months before the boy ends his time with Mr Goodboy,” Fletcher said, “Time enough to make some arrangement I would hazard.”

“A matter more of days than months, for the earl is most anxious that this be concluded with the utmost haste. He has fears that as the boy grows closer to the time of his indentiture ending, he may form some undesirable attachment once again. This we would avoid at all costs for it would be most unfortunate.”

Fletcher left Westminster in a daze. To be offered a boy as yet unborn for his pleasure in later years was a thing hard enough to comprehend, but to be offered in that same afternoon the most beautiful boy in the whole of England as his second catamite and apprentice, was something that was surely beyond the usual.

And still he had the matter of two slayings to solve.