The Prince of Lies (Night's Masque, #3)(111)

The man sneered. “Loyal, eh? Well, that’s no business of mine. I’m looking for Catlyn and his brother.”

“Why? What have they done?”

“Only broke into the Tower and kidnapped the King’s godson. Now hand ’em over.”

“They’re not here.”

“They were seen near the Globe Theatre in Bankside. Your theatre. Where are they?”

“They parted from us on the road,” Burbage said. “We kept company for a while, that is all.”

“Where are they going?”

“How should I know? They are acquaintances of ours, nothing more.”

“Acquaintances, eh? I hear Catlyn and his brood have been lodging with a one-armed printer and one of your actors, a fellow named Parrish. Which is he?”

Gabriel stepped forward before Ned could stop him.

“I am.”

The man pointed his pistol at Gabriel. “Where are the Catlyns going?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said softly. “And I wouldn’t tell you if I did.”

The leader narrowed his eyes at them, then turned to the man at his right hand and jerked his head towards the actors. The riders dismounted, all except their leader, and closed in on the wagon. Ned stepped in front of Gabriel, staring the nearest man in the eye.

“Suits me,” the ruffian growled. “I’ll just spit you both together.”

“Search the wagon,” the leader shouted. “Rip up the floorboards if you have to, but find those two traitors.”

Burbage made a strangled noise of protest as the men began throwing costumes onto the dusty ground, followed by the emptied chests and crates.

“They’re not here, captain,” one of them reported at last.

“Prince Arthur will hear of this.” Burbage shook off the man holding him and approached the captain. “By whose authority do you harass me and my men?”

“Who do you think sent us, you fat oaf? Prince Arthur heads the Privy Council now.”

Ned swore under his breath. Olivia had them all by the balls.

“And the King?” Gabriel asked.

The captain leant over his saddlebow and scratched his chin. “What’s the fancy lawyers’ phrase? ‘No longer in command of his faculties.’ Arthur is regent, until such time as the King recovers. Or dies.”

“Orders, sir?” one of the riders called out.

“Arrest these two–” he pointed to Ned and Gabriel “–and send the rest of ’em on their way. We’ve wasted enough time here already.”

Ned’s arms were tied behind his back and he was lifted onto a horse in front of one of the soldiers.

“Don’t wriggle, you little whoreson,” the man growled in his ear. “And watch what you’re doing with that hand, or I’ll cut it off to match the other one. Or perhaps me and the lads’ll just make merry with your pretty friend, whilst you watch. Bet that’ll get you talking, eh?”

Ned swallowed the urge to turn and butt the man senseless. Two against ten was poor enough odds to begin with, even if he wasn’t tied up.

“Good. Behave yourself and answer the captain’s questions, and we might even let you go.”

The man laughed and kicked his horse into a canter. Ned clung on with his knees, trying to work out a plan of escape. Let us go, my arse. We’ll be lucky to get out of this in one piece.

The soldiers turned off the high road a few miles on, trotting in single file down a bridle-path leading through the sparsely wooded hills, and halted at last in a circle of beech trees. Ned was hauled off his mount and collapsed, light-headed, onto the thick golden leaf litter. At least it was shady here.

Someone hauled him upright by the back of his doublet, and a sharp metal edge pressed against his throat.

“Now, tell me where your friends went.”

“Drink…” Ned gasped.

“Bring him a drink, so we can hear him speak,” the captain told one of his men.

Thin wine splashed over Ned’s lips and he gulped at it greedily. His head was still spinning, but he had enough wits to know that they would both die painfully if they didn’t give these men the information they wanted. He considered lying, sending them off on a wild goose chase. That would buy Mal some time, but wouldn’t help Ned get away. He had to lead them into a trap, somehow. And what better to bait a trap with than the truth?

“Well?” The captain leaned over him. “Speak up.”

“Cambridge.” Ned licked his lips. “They went to Cambridge.”

“Ned, no!”

He shot Gabriel a helpless look. The captain looked from one to the other.

“Cambridge. Where in Cambridge?”

“An inn. The Pike or the Mackerel or something. I can’t remember.”

“Perhaps we should torture them anyway, sir, just to be sure,” one of the soldiers said.

The captain frowned in thought. “No, torture takes too long. We’ll save it for when they turn out to have lied to us.”

Some of the soldiers dispersed into the trees to relieve themselves whilst their companions passed round the wineskin.

“Why did you tell them?” Gabriel whispered, leaning as close as he could reach.

“Would you rather be murdered and left to rot out here? If we lead them to Mal, they might keep us to use as hostages. If not, they’ll kill us out of hand and hunt Mal down anyway.”