The Dance of Death Read Free

yelled for a server. ‘We might as well be comfortable,’ he added, ‘and it’s still an hour or so until supper. I don’t know about you, but I could do with a drink.’
    Ten minutes later – the service was prompt in Baynard’s Castle – Timothy poured us both a second mazer of a wine that he assured me, aware of my ignorance, was one of the best in the castle cellars. This information did nothing to reassure me. On the contrary, it only increased my uneasiness. If the lackeys had orders to treat us like honoured guests, there was a reason for it. ‘Flattery’ and ‘bribery’ were two of the words that immediately sprang to mind; ‘softening up’ were two more. I liked none of them.
    Suddenly realizing how thirsty I was, I had tossed back the first cup of wine with an abandon that had made my companion wince, but he had forced himself to keep pace with me for the sake of good fellowship. Now, however, he urged me to savour the second with more decorum.
    â€˜We don’t want to get drunk, do we?’ he said. ‘We need our wits about us.’
    â€˜I’d very much like to get drunk,’ I snapped. ‘Oh, don’t worry – I won’t. Just get on with what you were going to tell me. Why does the king want me to go to France . . .? But wait a minute!’ My worst suspicions were suddenly aroused. ‘You must have regular spies in Paris. Why aren’t you employing one of them to do whatever needs to be done?’
    â€˜Ah! Yes!’ Timothy recruited his strength with another gulp or two of wine, forgetting in his agitation to give it the respect he claimed it deserved. ‘The unhappy fact is . . .’
    â€˜Go on,’ I encouraged him grimly.
    â€˜Well, sad to say, we need a . . . a fresh face in Paris to . . . er . . . to replace poor Hubert Pole, who . . .’
    â€˜Who what?’
    â€˜Who met with an accident,’ Timothy finished in a rush. ‘Have some more of this excellent Rhenish.’ He refilled my mazer with a generous hand, ignoring his recent injunction to me not to get drunk.
    â€˜What sort of accident?’ I pushed the cup aside, untouched.
    â€˜He . . . er . . . Well, strangely enough, he was found drowned in the Seine. The poor fellow must have slipped and fallen in.’
    â€˜Slipped and fallen in, my left foot!’ I exclaimed with unusual restraint, adding caustically, ‘Such a quiet river, the Seine, by all accounts. I don’t suppose there was anyone around to pull him out . . . Now, suppose you tell me the truth.’
    â€˜It did happen at night,’ Timothy explained hopefully.
    â€˜Of course it did. And I expect this Hubert Pole was just enjoying a quiet nocturnal stroll, minding his own business, no threat to anyone.’ I sat up straight on my stool, clasping my arms across my chest defiantly. ‘You can find someone else, Timothy. I’m not going.’
    â€˜You won’t be in any danger as long as you follow instructions. One of the reasons it has been decided to send you and the lady as husband and wife is that a married couple is less likely to arouse suspicion. In any case, you aren’t being sent to winkle out closely guarded state secrets. In all probability, the information wanted by King Edward – if, unfortunately, what he fears should prove to be true – will be common knowledge by Christmas.’
    â€˜In that case,’ I interrupted angrily, ‘ why are we going?’
    â€˜His Highness wishes to be forearmed.’
    â€˜About what?’ Although my tone of voice was still forbidding, I relaxed my posture a little.
    Timothy was quick to notice it and breathed more easily himself. ‘You know, of course, that negotiations have been proceeding for some time for the betrothal of the Princess Elizabeth to the young Dauphin of