Part 38 (1/2)

Whyte sighed and began to tug at his gloves. 'I mean no offence, Your Majesty. But surely we have fought these wars to preserve the lifeblood of the Church of England, not to taint it with Popish mercenaries.'

Charles gazed levelly at him. It was a fair point, of course, and one put to him many times these past few, bitter years. He had lost many loyalists because of it and his intractable defence of his beloved wife's religion.

'Mr Whyte,' he said at last, in a low, grave whisper, 'rather than lose my throne to these r-rebels I would come to terms with the devil himself!'

Polly ran at full pelt across the room and Ben caught her in his arms. She tried to swing him round but was too exhausted.

'd.u.c.h.ess!' he cried joyfully. 'Oh, love. Are you OK?

What's been happening?'

Polly practically crushed the young sailor in her embrace.

'Too much to tell you,' she said happily.

The Doctor and Jamie greeted Ben too and then the Doctor turned to face Scrope, Thurloe, and Cromwell.

'I appear to have done you an injustice, Doctor,' said the general with a smile.

'Not half the injustice I have done Master Scrope,' said the Doctor, reaching out to shake the saltpetre man's hand. 'It seems you really are engaged on state business.'

'Of the highest order,' said Thurloe. 'Even if his... er modus operandi modus operandi is a little eccentric.' is a little eccentric.'

Scrope patted his filthy hair. 'No one bothers a man who reeks like me!' he said merrily. 'But let us to the matter at hand. We know that Prince Rupert is in London and has brought a Dutchman here.'

'For what purpose?' asked the Doctor.

Thurloe shrugged. 'That is what we must ascertain and you, Mistress Polly, must furnish us with an answer.'

Polly freed herself from Ben's embrace. 'Me?'

'Aye,' said Cromwell. 'Were not you in the thick of these conspirators, albeit against your will?'

Polly shook her head. 'But I don't know anything about their plans or their organisation, only...'

She trailed away. Thurloe leaned forward eagerly. 'Only?'

'Only that they met at the inn where Ben and I went that first morning. They may only have hired the room but it's the one place of theirs I know.'

Thurloe clapped his hands. 'Excellent! We must not lose a moment.'

The Doctor nodded. 'I'll come with you, Polly.'

She smiled and squeezed his hand. 'Thank you.'

'And I,' said Scrope. 'If you'll give me a few moments.'

The strange old man dashed from the room, leaving them all somewhat bewildered.

The night had turned bitterly cold, an arctic wind blasting the old city like some primal force let loose on the world.

There was no new snow yet, but everyone could sense it in the air, ready to cover the frosty cobbles, making them even more treacherous to the few souls who dared to venture out.

Those who did huddled themselves up, clutching their tall hats tightly to their heads and swathing themselves in layers of extra clothing.

The wind picked up and whistled down the alley where stood Kemp's inn, the place seeming like the only house occupied and merry, its patrons determined to forget their troubles and the weather in a pint of foaming ale.

The sign above the World Turn'd Upside Down swung wildly as the Doctor, Polly, and Scrope stole inside.

All three stood on the threshold for a moment, s.h.i.+vering and stamping as they became used to the blaze from the fire and the sudden tug of human warmth. The Doctor blew into his hands and turned to Scrope.

To everyone's astonishment, the old man had returned transformed. Quick ablutions had taken away the cake of dirt that had covered his skin, revealing a face that now seemed far more wise and n.o.ble. His hair was brushed back from his high forehead and he was dressed in neat black livery from head to toe. Altogether he looked quite the gentleman.

The Doctor smiled as the scent of lemons came to him from Scrope's newly washed body. 'Shall we take a seat?'

He ushered Scrope and Polly forward into the rowdy tavern. Polly was looking out immediately for Frances but it was Sarah Kemp who stood behind the bar, dealing gamely with a gang of rough young lads who had come in from the cold.

'Anything?' said the Doctor, sitting down and peering at the rough, packed crowd.

Polly shook her head. 'I know the girl who works here.

She might have some idea of who '

The door clattered and swung open, banging against the wall with a loud crash.

Polly stopped talking and whirled round, thinking the wind had blown open the door. Instead, she saw Christopher Whyte framed there, his clothes stiff with frost, his face fixed into a murderous glower.

Polly looked away as he marched in and made straight for the bar.

Sarah Kemp caught his eye. She pointed upstairs but Whyte shook his head. They exchanged words and Sarah poured him a large gla.s.s of some ruby-coloured spirit which he swiftly drained. He pushed the gla.s.s back across the bar and Sarah refilled it.

'Looks like a man in need of company,' muttered the Doctor.

'That's him,' whispered Polly. 'Christopher Whyte.'

The Doctor leaned closer and nodded. 'See what you can do.'

Polly got up and threaded her way around the tables and stools, struggIing to avoid the maze of outstretched legs and backsides.

A big, burly lad stepped straight in front of her, grinned stupidly, and was about to mutter something cheeky when Christopher Whyte glanced round.

He saw Polly at once, took in the situation and pushed the youth roughly out of the way. The boy crashed to the floor and didn't get up, already the worse for drink.

'Polly!' cried Whyte delightedly, making room for her to stand by him. 'I am so pleased to see you. I had thought...'