testimony gathered under torture. And we are hardly likely to pull much of worth from the charred ashes of the house, are we?”
Sir Henry was watching his soldiers amble across the lawn, their armour clinking as they surrounded the house. He was growing tired of being patronized by a mere commoner. But he was also mindful that the man held the king’s commission. “We will do the king’s bidding, sir, rest assured of that.”
“Follow my lead, Sir Henry, and you can rest assured the king will reward you, but fail and you will be exchanging your grand house for a cell in the Tower of London.”
Sir Henry looked as though he was about to explode but, just like those barrels of powder beneath parliament, the conflagration failed to ignite. “The king shall not find me wanting, sir, and I trust nor will you,” he thundered. “And now, sir, if we have finished our debate, might I suggest we set to work.” Without waiting for a reply, the knight spurred his horse and cantered off towards the house, his dander flying like a banner.
The other rider sat for a moment, pondering the impact of his words. It was going better than he could have hoped and his earlier fears melted away. More confident now, but determined to remain alert, he urged his own horse forward.
*
The place was like a castle under siege. There were sentinels at the gates preventing free passage to and from the house; meanwhile, troops patrolled the gardens and clattered about inside, overturning furniture and prying away panels in the search for hiding places. They had been at work for almost two days now and, with no sign of their prey, Noyce was becoming frustrated at the haphazard nature of the search.
“Your men charge about the house like so many children playing games,” he complained to Sir Henry. “A search like this requires care and, most of all, quiet. I need to hear the house.”
Sir Henry, who was eating, as he always seemed to be, slapped his fork down on to the table. Since morning he had been suffering from a stiff neck and it was doing little for his mood. “Gads, sir, you suggest that I remove my men from the house? Perhaps you would like me to withdraw them from the grounds also, in order that you might listen to the house?”
“The first of those things would greatly assist my work, though I think some of your men should be sent away.” He cast an eye over the dismembered chicken carcass sitting in front of Sir Henry. “We have emptied the pantry three times over and your men are now scouring the locality for victuals. If the looting continues, sir, you risk stirring unrest, and that will assist neither your personal standing nor our present task.”
Sir Henry knew all too well that, as the local Justice, failure to capture the fugitives would reflect badly on him, as would complaints about the misbehaviour of his men. Food could be paid for of course, but the coin would have to come from his own purse. He turned back to his fowl but seemed to have lost his appetite. “Very well, Mister Noyce, I will speak to the captain. I shall give you the house and send away some of the men. I trust though, that, with the fulfilment of your request, we can look forward to a satisfactory end to this affair. Find me the traitors, and find them soon.”
“I will find them, Sir Henry, but it shall be for the king that duty will be served, not for your own gratification.” With that, Noyce turned on his heels and left. Sir Henry looked as though he was about to shout after the impudent fellow but, instead, picked up the fork and thrust it angrily into the chicken’s breast.
Leaving Sir Henry fuming at the dining table, Noyce went to the kitchen where he found the mistress of the house in the company of her servants. A scullery-maid was reporting on the condition of the house. “There is a great tear in the tapestry in the upper gallery and this morning they have ripped up boards from the floor in the great hall.”
Mary Habingdon listened as the list of desecrations grew: panels removed, doors unhinged, stairs lifted. The maid was clearly anxious, her voice quivering as she continued her litany. Mary on the other hand was the very picture of calm, and she seemed more concerned with re-adjusting her