Will recognized the wiry, red-headed man: Tobias Strangewayes, the most prominent of the new band of spies the Earl of Essex had established to rival the traditional secret service. He was a proficient swordsman, but he had a hot temper that meant he would never be a master with the rapier.
‘Leave him be,’ Carpenter growled.
When the scarred spy made to advance, Will held him back with an outstretched arm, although they shared an equal contempt for Strangewayes and his men. In a court now riven with factions, Essex’s rival group served only to distract attention from the true threats facing England. ‘Now, now, John. There are only three of them. Why, that is no challenge for Robert.’
‘Perhaps another time.’ Launceston’s voice was as devoid of emotion as his face. ‘A little aid would not go amiss at this moment.’
Strangewayes’ eyes were black slits. ‘I warned your man that if he spoke to me again there would be a reckoning. Your master may tolerate his unnatural tastes, but I do not have to.’ He drew the tip of his rapier in a circle a finger’s-width from Launceston’s neck.
‘You profess a moral stance, yet act like a rogue. Would you spill the blood of an unarmed man here, in full view of women? Even spies like you must abide by the law.’ Frustrated that he was dealing with this conflict instead of searching for the real threat, Will’s voice hardened and he levelled his rapier at the red-headed man.
‘I can beat you in a fair fight, Swyfte.’ Strangewayes moistened his lips, but Will could see the uncertainty in his darting eyes.
‘Leave Launceston alone.’ Carpenter took another step forward. ‘He is a better man than you.’
‘Better than I?’ The rival spy gave a mocking laugh. ‘Better at killing innocents, and wallowing in their final suffering. He is a devil, with no morals, who deserves to be removed from this life.’
‘We are all devils in our own way, Master Strangewayes, and you prove it by passing such harsh judgement on a fellow man, with no evidence, only hearsay and old wives’ gossip,’ Will said.
His attention was caught by a flash of ostentatious white brocade and lace as a man in a ram’s mask swaggered from the audience. ‘Your day has passed, Master Swyfte,’ the man boomed. He removed his mask to reveal himself as Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, in his own estimation the most handsome man at court. ‘Your master, Sir Robert Cecil, is proving a poor defender of the realm and a most unfortunate replacement for the sadly missed Sir Francis Walsingham. His spies … your companions, sir! … have failed time and again to win an advantage for England in Spain, and in Flanders.’
‘Your analysis, as ever, is passionately voiced, sir,’ Will said with a bow, ‘though I fear not all the details of our great successes have been brought to your attention.’
With a fixed smile, Essex held Will’s gaze for a long moment, searching for any hint of the disrespect he knew was there. ‘You would do well to study Tobias here, Master Swyfte. He is the future,’ he said with a hearty laugh, clapping his red-headed favourite on the shoulder.
Strangewayes grinned.
Will could feel Carpenter and Launceston bristle beside him. ‘I have always said Master Strangewayes is a lesson to us all.’
Sensing that his authority was close to being undermined, Essex grunted. Flashing Will a guarded look, he replaced his mask and strode back into the audience.
The black-garbed spy stepped past Carpenter, and with a flourish brought his blade under Strangewayes’ sword, flicking it away from Launceston. ‘If you wish to fight, then let’s have at it.’
Uneasy now he had lost the upper hand, the rival spy glanced around and saw the rows of masked faces turned towards him. Slowly, he lowered his sword, then sheathed it. ‘My master was correct. Your time has passed, Master Swyfte,’ he sniffed, pretending he was bored with the confrontation. ‘England no longer needs you. And if you do not see the truth in that statement now, you soon will. Come, lads.’ He turned on his heel and pushed through the audience with his two men close behind.
Will sheathed his sword. ‘You have a knack of finding trouble in the most unlikely places, Robert.’
‘Is this what it has come to?’ Unable to contain his bitterness, Carpenter stalked around them, his fists bunched. ‘We fight among ourselves while England slowly falls around us?’