The Traitor's Blade, Kevin Sands [fiction novels to read txt] 📗

been able to gather,” Walsingham said, “I believe someone at the party went down to the cellar and opened the secret entrance. This had to be planned—for when the King’s Men confronted the intruder, they were shot from behind.

“The conspirators must have entered from Saint James’s Park. Crossbows were used, I suspect, so there would be no noise of gunshots. The locks were then picked, and the jewelry looted, carried back out through the park. I imagine the ringleader even returned to the party.

“Covenanters would not have split their forces to attack the king and rob him at the same time. This was the work of someone else: a man who knew the ambush would take place, but cared nothing for its outcome. All he wanted was the money.”

“The Raven,” I whispered.

“Combined with the personal knowledge of you, and the letters you were sent? It is the only reasonable conclusion.”

Now it all made sense. The Raven had been working with the Covenanters all along. He’d sent me the letters, knowing I’d think they were from the Templars, so I’d follow the clues, expose the plot against the king, and help get Charles out of the palace so he could be ambushed.

But as the Raven had used me, so had he used the Covenanters. Their struggle didn’t mean anything to him. Instead, he’d exploited the fact that most of the King’s Men were away so he could rob the secret treasury.

And at the same time, he’d somehow discovered who was in the London chapter of the Knights Templar. He’d lured Domhnall Ardrey to the Banqueting House so I would see him and think him an enemy. Then he’d planted the fake letter in Ardrey’s desk to pin the blame on the baron, before blowing up their chapter house, killing them all.

Revenge on me, for stealing his treasure in Paris. Revenge on the Templars. And he’d made himself richer in the process. How he must be laughing at me.

“What do we do now?” I said miserably.

“All we can,” Walsingham said. “You investigate at your end. I shall investigate at mine. If you need assistance, let me know. I will do the same.”

He regarded me. “You may not accept it, but my assessment remains. I consider your performance satisfactory.”

He returned his gaze to the flowers. I left him, alone, in the garden.

I bumped into Tom entering our rooms.

“I was just about to go looking for you,” he said. “Where’d you go?”

“Out for a walk,” I said.

“You’re supposed to be resting.”

“So are you. But you’re still limping around.”

And of course he was—because he was looking for me. I gave him a giant hug.

“What’s that for?” he said, puzzled.

“Nothing.”

His eyes narrowed. “Where did you go, exactly?”

“I told you. For a walk.”

“And did this walk take you anywhere near the Privy Garden?”

“… Maybe.”

“Christopher!” he said, shocked. “You spied on me!”

“As Lord Walsingham noted, that is my job now.”

He shook a fist at me and sputtered. “Odd’s fish!”

“I’m sorry,” I said, and the rest came rushing out. “It’s just… you were so sad. And I didn’t know why, and you wouldn’t tell me—you even lied about it. And then, when you got that note, I finally realized what it might be. I just… I didn’t want you to leave. You’re the best friend I could ever have. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well…” He flushed, embarrassed. “You could start by not setting things on fire.”

“I’ll have you know—” I said.

“Oh, here we go.”

“—my fireworks saved the king. The king! How many people can say that? I’ll tell you. One. Me.”

“Oh no.”

“In fact… I should open a new line. Blackthorn’s Blasters! Guaranteed to maintain a monarch! Or your penny back.”

Tom buried his face in his hands. “Why, Lord? Why me?”

I turned serious for a moment. “I really am grateful, Tom. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count.”

“Which is a problem in itself,” he pointed out. “But you’ve saved my life, too, remember? During the plague, and in Devonshire. We’re even.”

“We’re not even close to even.”

“Doesn’t matter. That’s my job,” he said. “I promise you, Christopher, if the Raven wants to get you, he’ll have to step over my dead body to do it.”

And then the most terrible chill washed over me, as if a ghost had passed through the room. I shuddered. “Don’t say that.”

For I had the feeling his words would come true.

CHAPTER

55

I FELT A LITTLE BETTER the next day. With things resolved with Tom, and no one blaming me for what had happened—even if I still blamed myself—our problems didn’t seem quite so grim. Despite the fact that I still hurt all over.

Everyone agreed now: Not only was the Raven still alive, he was here in London.

Walsingham believed someone at the party at Berkshire House had distracted the guards to allow the secret vault to be looted. Was that the Raven? It was strange to think that he might have been so close.

Then another thing occurred to me. Simon had said the Raven specialized in pretending to be someone else. So if the Raven actually was at that party…

My stomach fluttered. This might be something we could discover. Find out who was there—and investigate them. If we could find a false identity… someone who didn’t belong… I resolved to bring it up with the spymaster.

Something else happened that made me feel better, too. Late that morning, one of the King’s Men knocked on our door. I figured he was here for Tom, until I recognized him. It was the man who’d lent me his warhorse, Chuff.

He’d found Blossom!

I limped along with him to the stables. Sure enough, there was the old girl, safe in her stall. She nickered, and I held her while she chewed on the back of my coat. “Where did you find her?”

“On a farm near Parsons Green,” the King’s Man said. “She wandered in among the cows. Farmer said she was making friends.”

“Of course she was. She’s a sweet old