mass celebrated by Ballard at the house of Sir Anthony Babington.” A forbidden rite that could get a man clapped into prison or worse. Martin made haste to add, “I did so purely for the purpose of establishing my bona fides as a fellow recusant. It was not all that difficult. I—”
Martin checked himself on the verge of revealing that he had spent part of his youth in Paris amongst friars after he had been abandoned on the steps of Notre Dame by his mother.
Walsingham was only familiar with Martin as a former agent for Henry of Navarre. Martin had first crossed paths with the secretary two years earlier when Martin had journeyed to London in an effort to raise much-needed funds for the beleaguered Protestant king.
That was all that Walsingham knew of Martin and he preferred to keep it that way. He had no desire to have the secretary looking too closely into his past, especially not the parts regarding his daughter.
“I am familiar enough with the forms of the old faith to pass myself off as a Catholic.”
“Indeed.” Walsingham’s countenance was impassive, his voice noncommittal, but his shrewd gaze never left Martin’s face. “Another fine performance by you, I have no doubt.”
“Passable.” Martin hunched his shoulders in a modest gesture. “But not good enough to convince Babington and Father Ballard to take me fully into their confidence.
“I have been able to learn more by lurking about the Plough Inn of an evening. Young Babington and his friends often repair there for supper and are not always cautious when deep in their cups.”
Martin paused and went on grimly, “There is definitely some plot afoot to get rid of Queen Elizabeth and place her cousin, Mary of Scots, on the throne. I overheard Babington asking Father Ballard if it would be wrong to kill Elizabeth.”
“An assassin with a conscience. How admirable.” Walsingham sneered.
“Ballard assured him it would be no sin. The Pope has declared Elizabeth a heretic and would absolve Babington. And yet he still sounded loath to act. Truly, for all of his bold talk, Babington does not strike me as much of a threat. He’s an indecisive and dream-ridden young fellow. I believe he has resolved to write to the Queen of Scots herself, asking for her blessing before he proceeds any further.”
Martin’s lip curled contemptuously. “How the young fool thinks he will manage that, I know not. Everyone knows the Scottish queen is guarded too closely at Chartley to receive any communication from the outside world.
“Oh, the lady shall receive his letter.” Walsingham gave a rare smile, so cold it chilled Martin’s blood. “I will relax the guard and see that she does.”
Martin regarded Sir Francis in astonishment. “Your pardon, sir, but hadn’t you better arrest Babington and this priest at once? Wouldn’t it be dangerous to let Elizabeth’s enemies correspond and plot against her?”
“Dangerous, but necessary.” Walsingham was not a forthcoming man, seldom explaining himself fully to anyone, even his queen.
He surprised Martin when he steepled his fingers together and continued gravely, “I have dealt with many of these Catholic conspiracies against Her Majesty. In the past I always moved too swiftly, never rooting out the dark heart of the matter. But this time I mean to end these plots once and for all. To do that I must entrap the Scottish Jezebel herself and offer Queen Elizabeth incontrovertible proof of her cousin’s guilt.”
Walsingham sighed. “While Her Majesty can be as astute as any man I have ever known, she is very much a woman in this respect. She has no stomach for execution, especially when it concerns another anointed queen.”
“Mayhap the queen has good reason for her reluctance,” Martin ventured to suggest, “considering the tragic way her own mother died.”
“I wouldn’t know. The queen never speaks of the Boleyn woman and there is great wisdom in that. She has had her legitimacy challenged
Martin checked himself on the verge of revealing that he had spent part of his youth in Paris amongst friars after he had been abandoned on the steps of Notre Dame by his mother.
Walsingham was only familiar with Martin as a former agent for Henry of Navarre. Martin had first crossed paths with the secretary two years earlier when Martin had journeyed to London in an effort to raise much-needed funds for the beleaguered Protestant king.
That was all that Walsingham knew of Martin and he preferred to keep it that way. He had no desire to have the secretary looking too closely into his past, especially not the parts regarding his daughter.
“I am familiar enough with the forms of the old faith to pass myself off as a Catholic.”
“Indeed.” Walsingham’s countenance was impassive, his voice noncommittal, but his shrewd gaze never left Martin’s face. “Another fine performance by you, I have no doubt.”
“Passable.” Martin hunched his shoulders in a modest gesture. “But not good enough to convince Babington and Father Ballard to take me fully into their confidence.
“I have been able to learn more by lurking about the Plough Inn of an evening. Young Babington and his friends often repair there for supper and are not always cautious when deep in their cups.”
Martin paused and went on grimly, “There is definitely some plot afoot to get rid of Queen Elizabeth and place her cousin, Mary of Scots, on the throne. I overheard Babington asking Father Ballard if it would be wrong to kill Elizabeth.”
“An assassin with a conscience. How admirable.” Walsingham sneered.
“Ballard assured him it would be no sin. The Pope has declared Elizabeth a heretic and would absolve Babington. And yet he still sounded loath to act. Truly, for all of his bold talk, Babington does not strike me as much of a threat. He’s an indecisive and dream-ridden young fellow. I believe he has resolved to write to the Queen of Scots herself, asking for her blessing before he proceeds any further.”
Martin’s lip curled contemptuously. “How the young fool thinks he will manage that, I know not. Everyone knows the Scottish queen is guarded too closely at Chartley to receive any communication from the outside world.
“Oh, the lady shall receive his letter.” Walsingham gave a rare smile, so cold it chilled Martin’s blood. “I will relax the guard and see that she does.”
Martin regarded Sir Francis in astonishment. “Your pardon, sir, but hadn’t you better arrest Babington and this priest at once? Wouldn’t it be dangerous to let Elizabeth’s enemies correspond and plot against her?”
“Dangerous, but necessary.” Walsingham was not a forthcoming man, seldom explaining himself fully to anyone, even his queen.
He surprised Martin when he steepled his fingers together and continued gravely, “I have dealt with many of these Catholic conspiracies against Her Majesty. In the past I always moved too swiftly, never rooting out the dark heart of the matter. But this time I mean to end these plots once and for all. To do that I must entrap the Scottish Jezebel herself and offer Queen Elizabeth incontrovertible proof of her cousin’s guilt.”
Walsingham sighed. “While Her Majesty can be as astute as any man I have ever known, she is very much a woman in this respect. She has no stomach for execution, especially when it concerns another anointed queen.”
“Mayhap the queen has good reason for her reluctance,” Martin ventured to suggest, “considering the tragic way her own mother died.”
“I wouldn’t know. The queen never speaks of the Boleyn woman and there is great wisdom in that. She has had her legitimacy challenged
Similar Books
