blacksmith.” He patted the side of the horse’s neck. “He has shaken loose a shoe on that damned forest track. Now, sir, be good enough to deploy your men.”
The captain strode towards his charges, bellowing orders. He was eager for his men to prove themselves to the intimidating outsider. Although he had never had cause to visit these parts before, the reputation of Mr Jonathan Noyce — the most successful priest hunter in all of England — preceded him and, among other things, it was well known that he did not suffer fools gladly. “Half of you spread out across the front of the house,” yelled the captain. “The rest of you close the circle from the rear. If anyone tries to leave the house stop them, but hold your fire for god’s sake. The king requires these people alive.”
He was pleased with his closing remark; it sounded professional. But his orders brought only disorder. Where there had been a suggested lack of military precision there was now chaos, as some of the men collided with their neighbours, while others seemed uncertain whether they were to move or not. Only the intervention of the sergeant and his bill-staff, which was applied liberally to shoulders and backsides, brought the melee to order.
As the soldiers moved off at a trot, Noyce reached into a saddlebag and pulled out a parchment, which he unrolled and began to study. “Now, tell me Sir Henry, who is the woman of the house?”
Sir Henry let out a laugh. “Perhaps, sir, we should postpone such niceties until we have completed the business at hand.”
“You mistake my intent Sir Henry,” replied the priest hunter, clearly irritated at the remark. “The house may have a master, but I’ll wager it is ruled by the mistress. Experience has taught that the women are oft times more devout than their spouses, and protective of priests as they are of their own children. Now who is she?”
“Why, she is … she is Habington’s wife of course. I think her name is Mary,” said a cowed Sir Henry. Then, eager to make amends for his gaff, he added, “My sources tell me that her husband is away from the house.”
“Then by God, she has full reign. Mark me sir, she is harbouring our prey. The woman is as much an enemy of the king and the Protestant faith as any of those men sheltered within her walls.”
“True, it is well known to be a Catholic household, but they have never given me any cause to interfere in their affairs. Unlike some, they have not been foolish enough to flaunt their beliefs.”
“What say you to harbouring failed assassins of the king? Cause enough for a little interference, would you not say?”
Sir Henry, let out a snort of indignation. “We should save our trouble and put the place to the torch. Smoke them out or let them roast. The fires of hell will be familiar to them soon enough.”
Noyce rolled up the parchment and slapped it against the palm of a gloved hand. “Do you know what this is?”
“I have no idea of its contents sir, though I would be pleased enough to read them if you felt it would advantage our cause.”
“That will not be required,” said Noyce as he repacked the document. “It is a king’s warrant for the arrest of all of those known or suspected to have taken part in the gunpowder plot, or to have given the traitors aid or succour. It states that the greatest care is to be taken, in servicing said warrant, and is most specific about the importance of collecting any evidence which may prove guilt or innocence.”
“
“You wish to question the
Sir Henry was watching his soldiers amble across the lawn, their armour clinking as they surrounded the house. He was growing tired of being patronized by a mere commoner. But he was also mindful that the man held the king’s commission. “We will do the king’s bidding, sir, rest assured of that.”
“Follow my lead, Sir Henry, and you can rest assured the king will reward you, but fail and you will be exchanging your grand house for a cell in the Tower of London.”
Sir Henry looked as though he was about to explode but, just like those barrels of powder beneath parliament, the conflagration failed to ignite. “The king shall not find me wanting, sir, and I trust nor will you,” he thundered. “And now, sir, if we have finished our debate, might I suggest we set to
The other rider sat for a moment, pondering the impact of his words. It was going better than he could have hoped and his earlier fears melted away. More confident now, but determined to remain alert, he urged his own horse forward.
The place was like a castle under siege. There were sentinels at the gates preventing free passage to and from the house; meanwhile, troops patrolled the gardens and clattered about inside, overturning furniture and prying away panels in the search for hiding places. They had been at work for almost two days now and, with no sign of their prey, Noyce was becoming frustrated at the haphazard nature of the search.
“Your men charge about the house like so many children playing games,” he complained to Sir Henry. “A search like this requires care and, most of all, quiet. I need to hear the house.”
Sir Henry, who was eating, as he always seemed to be, slapped his fork down on to the table. Since morning he had been suffering from a stiff neck and it was doing little for his mood. “Gads, sir, you suggest that I remove my men from the house? Perhaps you would like me to withdraw them from the grounds also, in order that you might
“The first of those things would greatly assist my work, though I think some of your men should be sent away.” He cast an eye over the dismembered chicken carcass sitting in front of Sir Henry. “We have emptied the pantry three times over and your men are now scouring the locality for victuals. If the looting continues, sir, you risk stirring unrest, and that will assist neither your personal standing nor our present task.”
Sir Henry knew all too well that, as the local Justice, failure to capture the fugitives would reflect badly on him, as would complaints about the misbehaviour of his men. Food could be paid for of course, but the coin would have to come from his own purse. He turned back to his fowl but seemed to have lost his appetite. “Very well, Mister Noyce, I will speak to the captain. I shall give you the house and send away some of the men. I trust though, that, with the fulfilment of your request, we can look forward to a satisfactory end to this affair. Find me the traitors, and find them soon.”
“I will find them, Sir Henry, but it shall be for the king that duty will be served, not for your own gratification.” With that, Noyce turned on his heels and left. Sir Henry looked as though he was about to shout after the impudent fellow but, instead, picked up the fork and thrust it angrily into the chicken’s breast.
Leaving Sir Henry fuming at the dining table, Noyce went to the kitchen where he found the mistress of the house in the company of her servants. A scullery-maid was reporting on the condition of the house. “There is a great tear in the tapestry in the upper gallery and this morning they have ripped up boards from the floor in the great hall.”
Mary Habingdon listened as the list of desecrations grew: panels removed, doors unhinged, stairs lifted. The maid was clearly anxious, her voice quivering as she continued her litany. Mary on the other hand was the very picture of calm, and she seemed more concerned with re-adjusting her bonnet than fretting about the damage done to her beloved house. It was typical of her behaviour since the arrival of her uninvited guests, thought Noyce. She had treated them with haughty contempt, done nothing to assist or provoke them and had remained adamant that she had nothing to hide.
“The wainscoting can be replaced and the floorboards polished but the tapestry is another matter,” she said. “Repairing it will certainly be beyond my skills with needle and thread. May God forgive those foolish oafs.” Unaware that Noyce was watching, she crossed herself.
Noyce coughed, announcing his presence. One of the servants let out a surprised gasp on turning and seeing him loitering in the door. The group dispersed, returning to the tasks which had busied them prior to their mistress’s arrival and leaving her standing alone.
“Mr Noyce, have you tired of destroying my house?”
“Such is the price for hiding priests and traitors both, Mrs Habingdon. Now I think it is time that you and I had a talk.”
The woman strode towards Noyce, her annoyance only now showing. “I thought you and your kind preferred
