The Captive Queen of Scots - Plaidy Jean (электронную книгу бесплатно без регистрации TXT) 📗

“At last,” sighed the latter. “I thought it would never reach me.”

“It would have aroused suspicions, had we changed the routine in any way.”

“Of course. Of course.” Phillipps broke the Queen’s seals and looked at the document. He glanced up at Paulet, anxious to be alone that he might continue with his task of deciphering.

Paulet understood and left him, and as Phillipps labored, his shortsighted eyes close to the paper, he was almost trembling with excitement.

This was what they had been waiting for. Walsingham was going to be delighted with his servant. Phillipps could scarcely wait to decipher it all.

At last his task was completed and he read through the damning letter.

Was it enough? Would it satisfy Walsingham?

Then he had an idea. Why should he not add a postscript to this letter? No sooner had the idea entered his head than he set to work.

I should like to know the names and qualities of the gentlemen who are to accomplish the task, for it may be that I should be able to give further advice; and even so do I wish to be made acquainted with the names of such principal persons. Also from time to time how you proceed, and how far everyone is privy hereunto.

The letter was ready for dispatch to Walsingham, and all in good time it would reach Babington.

Delighted with his work, Phillipps made a little design on the outside of the letter. It was of a gallows.

WHEN BABINGTON eventually received the Queen’s letter he put it to his lips and kissed it.

Now, he told himself, our plans will soon come to fruition. The Queen is with us. She will never forget us when we have brought her out of her prison. This is the happiest day of my life.

Now he was going to answer the letter in detail, as she so clearly desired. He would get together all the information that she asked and gladly give it to her. The moment was at hand.

It was while he was writing his reply that his servant came to tell him that a friend had called and was asking to see him.

Ballard was ushered into his room, and as soon as they were alone together it became clear that Ballard was agitated.

“All is not well,” he said. “I fear there is treachery among my servants.”

Babington was startled. He thrust his hands out of sight, because he feared they might begin to tremble.

“What has happened?” he demanded hoarsely.

“Little as yet. But we must take the utmost care. I have reason to believe that one of my servants is betraying us. I saw him in conversation with a man in a tavern who I know was at one time an agent of Walsingham’s.”

“You have questioned this servant?”

“No. It would be unwise to arouse suspicions. I shall watch him. But in the meantime I wanted to warn you to act with the utmost caution.”

“I was about to write a letter to the Queen in reply to hers.”

Ballard caught his breath and held out his hand for Mary’s letter. When he read it he was silent.

“If this fell into the wrong hands all our endeavors would be wasted,” he said.

“My dear Ballard, of course it cannot fall into the wrong hands. All our correspondence has been reaching us through that honest man, the Burton brewer. Gifford has arranged this excellent method of carrying letters to and from the Queen. You cannot doubt its efficiency?”

“I do not. But I say, at this stage move with care. Do not answer that letter until we have satisfied ourselves that all is well.”

Babington was disappointed, and Ballard thought how young and impetuous he was, and for the first time questioned the wisdom of making him the leading spirit in the conspiracy.

“If you value our lives, do not write to the Queen until we are sure that we are safe,” he insisted.

Babington nodded slowly. “You are right,” he added, with regret.

When Ballard had gone, he tried to recapture his dream of Babington, the first minister of the new Queen of England. But it would not return. Instead other pictures—grotesque and terrifying—were forcing themselves into his mind.

Ballard had shaken him.

WALSINGHAM WAS WAITING IMPATIENTLY for the letter he expected, and when it did not come, he guessed that the suspicion that all was not well must have struck the conspirators. He had not meant to make arrest at this point. There was more information that he had hoped to acquire through that interesting correspondence. But if the conspirators were aware that they were being watched, there must be a hasty change of plans.

Babington might be called the leader of the plot, but the experienced Ballard would certainly be the chief instigator. A sharper watch should be kept on Ballard.

As the days passed Ballard’s suspicions grew stronger, and he called a meeting of his friends in St. Giles’s Fields at dusk.

When they were all gathered there he said that they must disperse after the meeting and wait until they had further news from him. He suspected they were being spied on, and he was determined to question the spy without further delay.

They would each leave the Fields separately and go their different ways. Soon he hoped to send them news that it was safe for them to reassemble and make their final preparations.

Ballard was the last to leave and, as he sauntered to the edge of the Fields, two men emerged from a clump of bushes.

“John Ballard?” said one.

“You wished to speak with me?”

The other came swiftly toward him and had seized him by the arm.

“You are the Queen’s prisoner.”

“On what charge?”

“Treason,” was the answer.

Then John Ballard understood that his fears were well founded.

BABINGTON WAS REALLY ALARMED NOW. He knew that Ballard had been taken, but he did not believe that Walsingham was aware of the conspiracy. If so, why should he arrest Ballard and allow the others to go free?

Ballard could be trusted not to betray his friends. He was a zealous Catholic and one of the bravest men Babington had ever known. He would remain silent no matter what they did to him, for he would still hope that the plan to murder Elizabeth and set up Catholicism in England would succeed.

But it was unwise to stay in England. Babington invited several of the conspirators to the Barbican and told them that he planned to go to France to make the final arrangements for a foreign invasion. He was therefore applying to Walsingham for a passport.

This explanation was plausible. As for Ballard’s arrest, they discussed this and Gifford suggested that it may have been that he had been taken on account of his being a recusant—as many priests were.

“Undoubtedly that is so,” answered Babington. “But we must go ahead with our plans. The sooner I am in France the sooner we shall be in a position to proceed.”

This was agreed and when after a few days Walsingham had made no reply to his request, Babington, beginning to grow uneasy, wrote once more to the Secretary offering his services while in France to act as a spy. As a gentleman of Catholic leanings, he pointed out, he would be trusted by other Catholics and would thus be in a position to move easily among the enemies of their Sovereign Lady Elizabeth.

Walsingham was amused, and called his steward, one of his secretaries and several of his higher servants to him.

“There is a young man,” he told them, “who is importuning me to supply him with a passport. Get into touch with him, ask him to sup with you. Watch him carefully and ply him with wine. Listen to what he says when in his cups. You might suggest that . . . for a consideration . . . you would see if you could procure for him what he wants.”

Shortly afterward Babington received a call from Walsingham’s secretary and accepted an invitation to supper.

But Walsingham’s servants had not been trained to spying, and something in their demeanor aroused Babington’s suspicions. He did not drink as freely as they would have wished and, during the time he was in Walsingham’s house, he caught a glimpse of papers on the secretary’s table and there was one in Walsingham’s own handwriting on which, to his horror, he saw his own name.