The Muses’ Darling – Chapter 10

In this chapter, Kit is staying at Scadbury Manor, the Kent home of the Walsingham Family. It was later owned by Thomas Walsingham who inherited it from his brother Edmund. Whether Scadbury Manor was ever used by Sir Francis Walsingham is mere speculation, but it seemed a good setting for this story. The house is no longer standing. However, the site is currently being excavated. Most of its grounds now form Scadbury Park Nature Reserve, and the picture here is of Scadbury Park pond.

Aside from Kit Marlowe, Sir Francis Walsingham and his younger cousin Thomas, all other characters in this chapter are figments of my imagination, and any resemblance to reality and people past or present is pure coincidence.

Marlowe Month will return in the autumn. In the meantime, if you missed the previous chapters of The Muses’ Darling, you can find them via these links:

The Photograph (mini biography), The New Playwright (Chapter 1), The Journey to Canterbury (Chapter 2), Back Home in Canterbury (Chapter 3), A Wet Monday (Chapter 4), A Double Surprise (Chapter 5), The Gifts (Chapter 6), One Day Leads to Another (Chapter 7), An Eventful Weekend (Chapter 8), A Tour of the Kent Countryside (Chapter 9)

The Muses’ Darling

Chapter 10

An Unexpected Disclosure

Sounds in the corridor outside Kit’s bedroom at Scadbury Manor woke him around 8:00 a.m., and he lay there for a while thinking over the previous night’s conversation. A knock on the door with an invitation to join Sir Francis for breakfast then had him on his feet instantly. Having called through that he would be downstairs in a few minutes, he was as good as his word.

Sir Francis was alone in the room when Kit joined him for the first meal of the day. They made general conversation in front of the servants, but once they were alone Sir Francis apprised his guest of his thoughts.

“Kit, I’ve been thinking about your follower and also feel that he could be a Catholic spy.”

“That is my only conclusion, sir, though he must be a novice at trailing someone or the intention was to alert me to the fact that I was being followed, though neither seems particularly plausible.”

“I agree, and his name means nothing to me, though a good spy will adopt a pseudonym when working undercover.”

“True. How good a spy he actually is remains open to speculation, but I decided to evade rather than confront him, and should he resume his pastime when I am back in London, I shall report back to you on events.”

“Good man. Ignore him, note his movements and let me know in the usual way. I shall be returning to London myself early next week. Now, one of the reasons I have asked you here is to give you and my awaited guests a task which concerns Rochester Castle. I shan’t give you the details now, but when we have been joined by our colleagues all will be revealed.”

Realising Sir Francis must have a plan in mind, Kit merely nodded, knowing better than to ask at this point.

After their breakfast, Sir Francis suggested a walk around Scadbury’s grounds and asked to see Kit’s hired horse. They ambled to the stables where Kit introduced the spymaster to Tamburlaine, and the ostler informed them both that his new stable guest had settled down well but seemed in need of a new set of horseshoes before setting off for London.

As two of the Scadbury stallions were booked in with the blacksmith the following afternoon, he wondered if Tamburlaine could accompany them.

Looking first at Sir Francis who nodded, Kit agreed, realising his stay at Scadbury would be extended by at least one night.

As they left the stables to wander further round the grounds, Kit was surprised at the interest Sir Francis was taking in Tamburlaine. He asked about the horse and seemed pleased to learn that Kit was still riding the one he had hired in Southwark. Kit told him Tamburlaine was strong and, with frequent rests and an overnight stay, had been able to complete the journey to Canterbury in just over 24 hours and then enjoy a 10-day holiday in the stables of the local inn before the trip to Scadbury.

“Impressive,” remarked Sir Francis. “It seems to me, Kit, that for the foreseeable future your services will be much required, and as there will be trips to Rochester and back involved, having your own horse, and a good sturdy steed, is almost an essential.”

“That would be good, sir,” Kit replied, “but I am sorry that I don’t have enough money to buy and keep a horse.”

“I’m not expecting you to pay any of the costs. I should warn you that there will be increased responsibility in this new mission as well as travel between London and Kent, and usually you would receive more coins. However, my offer is for Her Majesty’s government to buy Tamburlaine in your name and pay for his upkeep, instead.”

Kit was rather taken aback by this but could see the logic in it and smiled and nodded.

“I see you agree,” Sir Francis noted.

“Definitely, sir. I would need to check if the owner of the stables is prepared to let him go. I hired him for two weeks and promised to return him and pay for any extra days over the fortnight, in addition to the half sovereign he demanded as surety against my late return or non-arrival. We must also consider that as Tamburlaine is such a good horse, he may not want to sell him.”

“He will for a good price,” Sir Francis told him with assurance, an over-confident assurance in Kit’s opinion. “And you may have to haggle, but I am certain I can leave that side of things in your capable hands. I shall have Tamburlaine valued by the blacksmith tomorrow. He often buys and sells horses so will have a good idea of how much he is worth. I shall then give you enough money to purchase him and to stable him close to your home.”

“This all seems very generous, sir.”

“Well, it’s not entirely altruistic, Kit. You will be expected to work hard and deliver for this bonus.”

“I shall do my best.”

“I have confidence in you, Christopher. Don’t let me down.”

“I shall try not to.”

Sir Francis then made his way to the office he used at Scadbury, inviting Kit to join him. Here the spymaster handed him drawings of Rochester Castle and the surrounding area.

“You’ll need to familiarise yourself with these, Kit, before you set foot in the town again.”

Kit took the sketches and looked at them, assuring Sir Francis that he would study them later.

Moving away from business matters, Sir Francis went on to ask about the Marlowe family and Kit’s playwriting, surprising him by saying that he and his wife had attended performances of both Tamburlaine plays and found them engrossing.

“Thank you, sir. You flatter me.”

“You certainly have a gift for words, Kit, and while I wonder whether writing for the stage is the best use of your education, you have certainly earned more money in your first year out of university than I did.”

“I love to write,” Kit admitted. “Always have, and it was a golden opportunity for me when Philip Henslowe accepted my first Tamburlaine, though I am not as proud of the sequel.”

“The first part was outstanding in its own right.”

At this point there was a knock on the door and the announcement that both expected gentlemen, Thomas Walsingham and Matthew Abbing, had arrived and were waiting in the Rose Room, so named because it overlooked the rose garden.

Kit followed Sir Francis through the doorway, nodded to Thomas Walsingham whom he knew and got along well with, then just stood staring at Matthew Abbing who was doing the same to Kit.

“Do I take it that you two know each other? Sir Francis looking quickly at Matthew, then Kit.

“Not directly,” replied Kit. “This is Martin Arnyngton.”

“No, it can’t be, you must be mistaken.”

“No mistake, sir. I’d recognise him anywhere, with that brown cape.”

For once, Sir Francis was taken aback. He turned to Matthew and asked him directly, “Have you been stalking Christopher Marlowe?”

“Christopher Marlowe?” queried Matthew. “No, sir. Well, I don’t know. Who is he?”

Sir Francis introduced them to each other. “Now what do you say? Have you been stalking him?”

“Ah, yes.”

“So you admit it.”

“Yes, but I thought he was suspicious – a danger to us.”

“A danger to us? He’s one of our top intelligencers. And what of you, Master Abbing? Do you deny that you are working for us while spying for the enemies of our queen?”

“I do deny it!” Matthew shouted.

Sir Francis gave him a warning look, and Matthew apologised.

“I am a loyal subject of Queen Elizabeth and vow to hunt down her enemies.”

“Now let’s get this sorted out. Marlowe here has been hounded by you since he arrived in Kent. Isn’t that right, Kit?”

“Yes, for much of the time. I kept finding him following me or observing me from across a road. I shook him off a few times, but often when I went out, there he was waiting for me, then following me. Tell me, Mr Abbing, did you want me to know you were stalking me, or are your trailing skills sub-standard?”

Matthew looked down, embarrassed, and mumbled something inaudible.

“Speak up, boy,” boomed Sir Francis. “We want to know why you have been following one of our men.”

“I didn’t know he was one of our men. I thought he was a plotter. I saw him at Rochester Castle the first time. He was looking round the rooms there and outside, and I thought he was considering it for use as part of some secret scheme to harm our queen.”

“Well, Kit here tells me that he was looking round it out of interest. Although he grew up in Kent, he had never had the chance to see Rochester Castle and, as he was passing through the town, thought he’d stop by to wander through the rooms and feel the majesty of the building.”

“That’s right,” agreed Kit. “But why did you think I was up to no good?”

“I overheard a conversation in a tavern, The Apple Tree, the day before I first saw you. It was in Rainham. There were people huddled together at the next table, whispering, and then the tavern owner joined in, and I heard them say that they would be using Rochester Castle because it was deserted, and no one would think it was the base for a plot to kill the queen.”

This was news to the assembled listeners. Sir Francis had hinted to both Kit and Thomas that Rochester Castle was a place of interest. Plots against the queen were not uncommon, but many of them came to nothing. Sometimes rumours were spread to deflect interest from the actual plans and locations of assassination attempts. However, little else had filtered down to the spy ring’s leader, so this first-hand overhearing by Matthew in Rainham needed to be followed up as soon as possible.

“Abbing, why didn’t you report it to me?” asked Sir Francis sternly.

“I wanted to find out more, so you’d be proud of me, and that’s why I went to Rochester Castle. When I saw Christopher Marlowe, I assumed he was one of the plotters, maybe hiding weapons there or just seeing where they could be hidden. I left before him, hid in a wooded area till I saw him go past on his horse, then followed him to the inn on the edge of Rochester where he stayed, then I lodged at the inn opposite. I got up early the next morning and waited on my horse in the shadows till I saw him leave on his horse and galloped after him till he got to the Rising Sun in Canterbury, though it was difficult as he kept stopping or going off course. When he left on foot, I watched from a distance till I saw him go into a house. Then I went back to where I had tied my horse, stabled him at the Rising Sun, then went inside and asked for a room.”

“Did you ask about me when you stayed at the Rising Sun in Canterbury?” Kit enquired.

“No, I didn’t want to raise any suspicions, especially as you were staying in a house nearby. I thought you might be known in the neighbourhood.”

“I certainly am. I was born and grew up in Canterbury and was staying with my parents and sisters.”

“Oh, just as well I didn’t make enquiries about you.”

“Yes, news of this would have got back to me, and I’d have come along and had a few words with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Matthew said to both Sir Francis and Kit. “Can I still work for you? I shall try harder and report anything I think suspicious.”

“We’ll see,” replied Sir Francis. “Now Matthew, go to your room and get yourself ready for the meal, while I chat to Thomas and Kit about this matter.”

“Yes, thank you, sir.”

“I’ll ask one of the maids to let you know when the meal is about to be served.”

With Matthew upstairs, the three men proceeded to discuss the situation. All were keen to find out more about the overheard conversation in Rainham and decided to quiz Matthew during the second course.

“Well, this is certainly a surprising turnaround, but can Martin – well, Matthew – be trusted? Is he one of us, is he working for the Catholics or is he both?” Kit mused aloud.

“Only time will tell,” replied the spymaster, “though it does mean you will have an extra job keeping an eye on young Abbing, but we’ll discuss it after the meal. Let me think it over while we’re eating.”

With the second course in front of them, Sir Francis proceeded to interrogate Matthew Abbing, leaving no stone unturned. He sought to find out the whereabouts of his new recruit over the previous fortnight, the names of those he had met and any snippets of information gleaned regarding the Rochester Castle plot. Matthew, obviously very nervous, chose his words carefully about the little he did have to offer in the way of pointers, as he had spent much of his time waiting for, then following – and often losing sight of – Kit.

All they could ascertain from Matthew was that the inn keeper of The Apple Tree in Rainham was part of a circle of plotters. His brother, who ran a tavern in Rochester itself, had refused to become embroiled, though to secure his family’s safety, finally promised to keep quiet about it all. Matthew didn’t know the name of this Rochester tavern but thought he’d heard that the landlord’s name was Sam, a snippet of information Kit mentally noted.

With the meal over, Sir Francis concluded his interrogation, dismissing Matthew by telling him he was free to go to his room, walk round the grounds or even take advantage of the library. Matthew thanked him and, feeling relieved to be out of his company, left the gathering to go to his room and read his own book – part of his MA studies.

Giving Matthew a couple of minutes to leave the corridor outside, Sir Francis opened the door and had a few words with the two guards outside.

Returning to his seat at the table, he looked at his employees and informed them that he had ensured that Matthew Abbing would not be putting his ear to the door or any adjacent walls, so they could speak freely.

“So, what do you two gentlemen make of this?” asked Sir Francis.

“Mmmm, well, there’s not much to base any conclusions on,” Thomas replied, “but it certainly needs some investigations.”

Turning to Kit, Sir Francis asked his views.

“The first thing that strikes me is the innkeeper’s name where I stayed in Rochester. I am fairly sure that I heard one or two of the locals addressing him as Sam. I wonder if he might be this more honourable brother.”

“But do you know his surname?”

“No, just his first name, if I heard correctly, and the name of the inn – The Red Fox. Thinking back to the place, there was a sign hanging outside depicting a fox, so I’m just wondering if Fox might be his family name, but it is a wild guess.”

Sir Francis nodded, then remarked, “As long as it isn’t a wild goose chase!”

“Something Tamburlaine would like to lead Midnight into,” Kit added with a grin, as he pictured the scene of the chaotic horse race known as a wild goose chase.

“Don’t even think about it, Kit!” Sir Francis warned him, despite giving a rare grin at the thought of it. “Anyway, back to business. This new plot Matthew has come across seems to have overtaken my plans for the Rochester Castle surveillance – one of many locations which have come to my attention.”

“But can we be sure he is telling us the truth and isn’t trying to put us off the scent for some reason?” Thomas queried.

“I know it’s a possibility,” Sir Francis conceded, “but for now we must proceed on the basis of trusting him, and Kit will monitor him for any signs of disloyalty. We must speak about this, shortly.”

He made a few notes, then looking up continued, “So let’s discuss this lead, then we’ll get on with the other matters in hand. Now, the first concern is whether Matthew is genuine or working for the other side. As you know, Kit, I want you to train him. So, I intend to give him the benefit of the doubt for now but want you to keep a close eye on him, maybe letting him go off on his own investigations sometimes but keeping him in view and earshot if possible. Other times I want you to work together while you weigh up his abilities, curb his impetuosity and look out for any signs he may be spying on us.”

“Yes, and I shall do my best,” replied Kit, almost relishing the idea of turning the tables and following his stalker.

“I know you need to be back in London shortly, but could you make a special journey tomorrow afternoon to Rainham and the inn Matthew has mentioned? See what you can learn there, and maybe stay overnight at the inn you used in Rochester, chat to the innkeeper there, find out if he has a brother in Rainham. You know the routine, Kit.”

“Yes, sir, but Tamburlaine is being shod tomorrow afternoon.”

“That’s no problem, Kit. You can borrow one of the horses from the stables here. Have a word with the ostler and see which one he recommends.” Then turning to Thomas, Sir Francis asked, “Would you ride Tamburlaine to the blacksmith and see if you can find out his value? He’s a good horse and could be an asset to Kit if he owned him.”

Thomas gave his agreement, reading between the lines that the cost of the horse would be met by the government, as his own had been.

Sir Francis then turned to Kit. “Are you happy with this arrangement?”

“Definitely,” replied Kit. “Thank you very much. That’s one worry less. So, would you like me to return here with any news?”

“Yes, on Saturday morning, on your way back to London. Tamburlaine will be waiting for you so you can swap horses, have lunch here and then set off for London. Would that be acceptable to you?”

“Of course. I am just concerned about when I shall be joining up with Matthew and what our plans will be.”

“None are definite yet, as they may well depend on any information you can gather at the inns. If we can get a better idea of when, where and if this dastardly act is likely to take place, we can work out a way to thwart it.”

Thomas and Kit nodded, as Sir Francis continued, “I also have plans for Matthew which I hope will prove his loyalty, while being so simple even he couldn’t spoil it.”

The task of checking out Rochester Castle, on Saturday, was assigned to Thomas as, without suspecting a plot, Kit had given the rooms only a superficial look. Remembering the remnants of food and deadened fire he had come across there, he mentioned it to his companions.

“Take note of that, Thomas,” his older cousin instructed. They may be using it regularly. If not, they may have left some incriminating evidence behind. But don’t get caught.”

“I shall be both circumspect and eagle-eyed,” the younger Walsingham assured him.

“Now I am not going to reveal these discussions to young Abbing, so you keep your counsel as well.”

“Agreed,” said Kit and Thomas, almost together.

Sir Francis continued, “I am wondering whether to call him in now or wait till the morning.”

“He could be in bed,” Thomas surmised, “if he’s got any sense.”

“Which he hasn’t,” Kit reminded them.

“In that case,” Sir Francis decided, “I shall have him roused earlier, have a chat with him on his own, and then we can all continue our meeting with him present over our first meal of the day.”

“That should give you a chance to assess him further,” Thomas noted.

“One of the ideas. But now gentlemen, let’s call it a day and get some sleep.”

The two younger men left the spymaster enjoying a final glass of wine, as they made their way up the stairs to their respective bedrooms. Tomorrow would be a full day, one way and another, and though the bed was calling him, Kit took his usual precautions of positioning a chair under the door handle. This should preclude any intruders – if not, the sound of the chair falling over would wake him. He always slept with his dagger under his pillow, and it only took a second to unsheathe it.

As he prepared for bed, he wondered how well he would sleep. While the fine wine he had imbibed over the meal had physically relaxed him, the news of the Rochester Castle plot had produced the opposite effect on his mind. He lay down prepared for either scenario but before long was dreaming of brown cloaks on inn signs while Sir Francis Walsingham was serving ale from behind the bar of the Rising Sun in Canterbury to Tamburlaine – the horse, not the Great!

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