Page 52 of Traitors Gate

‘Then it’s game on,’ said Miles as they continued to circle the lake.

‘Forgive me for mentioning this, Miles,’ said Booth Watson after they’d walked in silence for some time. ‘Even if you succeeded in stealing the crown, you wouldn’t be able to sell it, and if you broke it up, no one would be willing to buy the Cullinan II Diamond or the Black Prince’s Ruby, not to mention the St Edward’s Sapphire, even on the black market.’

‘It’s not my intention to sell the crown,’ said Miles, ‘or even to break it up. On the contrary, I intend to return it to the palace at the earliest possible opportunity, but not before Warwick has resigned, Hogan has been dismissed, and Commander Hawksby feels he has no choice but to take early retirement.’ He paused, stared at Booth Watson and said, ‘So, are you willing to be my defence counsel, as they are bound to ask you if you knew about the plan before I was arrested?’

‘You’re the only client I have who consults me before they commit a crime,’ Booth Watson assured him. ‘What have I got to lose?’

‘If I fail, it could be your last job.’

‘And if you succeed?’

‘You’ll be able to retire on a pension that would make a high court judge weep.’

The expression on Booth Watson’s face allowed Miles to put another metaphorical tick on his list.

• • •

Beth was preparing a cheese and tomato salad while the twins were impatiently waiting to read the next chapter.

‘You may recall,’ began Artemisia, opening her notebook, ‘that Captain Blood was planning to take revenge on the Duke of Ormond for confiscating his land by storming Dublin Castle and kidnapping His Lordship.’

‘Yes, but what happened next?’ demanded Jojo, who’d already heard the story but couldn’t wait to hear it a second time.

‘Several of the rebels, disguised as “handicraft men”, entered the castle gates waving petitions that the Duke of Ormond was accustomed to hearing in the morning. At thesame time, a local baker, who was in on the plot, arrived pushing a cart laden with bread, which he tipped over just as he passed the guard house.’

‘That was the signal,’ interrupted Peter, ‘for about eighty rebels who were led by Blood to storm the castle, armed with cudgels and pistols. And the plan was that while the guards were helping themselves to the bread, Blood would take over.’

‘A well-planned diversion,’ suggested William.

‘Yes,’ said Peter, ‘but it didn’t work. Because the Duke had been forewarned of the plot by one of Blood’s closest allies, who turned out to be a government informer. So the Duke doubled the guard that morning and instructed them to arrest everyone they could lay their hands on.’

‘Blood somehow managed to escape unharmed,’ said Artemisia, turning a page, ‘but his brother-in-law, James Lackie, was arrested, thrown in jail and later hanged.’

‘How do you know all this?’ asked Beth.

‘It’s all recorded in the pages of John Evelyn’s diary, who made Blood even more notorious.’

‘The Miles Faulkner of his time,’ mused William with a smile.

‘However,’ said Peter, determined to return to the script, ‘after Blood escaped, he somehow managed to make his way across to England, disguised as a priest. He even had the gall to roam around the countryside disguised as a priest, openly preaching while no one realized he was in fact on the run.’

‘You’ve got to admire his nerve,’ said Beth.

‘He had one or two things going for him,’ suggested Peter.

‘Like what?’ demanded William.

‘The authorities were quite preoccupied at the time with the plague which killed twenty thousand people in London alone, followed by the Fire of London.’

‘And don’t forget,’ said Artemisia, ‘that in 1667, London didn’t even have a police force. So Blood happily settled in Romford, a small village in Essex. However, he was still determined to seek revenge on the Duke of Ormond, who was now Lord High Steward of His Majesty’s household and living at Clarence House in the centre of London.’

‘Blood bided his time,’ Peter said, taking over the story once again, ‘until one night when the Lord Mayor was hosting a dinner at the Guildhall in honour of the Prince of Orange who was visiting London at the time. Among his guests was the Duke of Ormond, and as he was on his way home after the banquet, out of the darkness sprang six men who held up his carriage and dragged him out onto the road.’

‘It had been Blood’s intention,’ said Artemisia, ‘to take Ormond to Tyburn and hang him as if he were a common criminal, but to Blood’s surprise, the elderly peer put up a fight and, when they attempted to lift him onto a waiting horse, he dragged them both back onto the ground. Blood decided to kill the Duke there and then, and even took a shot at him, but missed.’ Artemisia looked up and Peter took over.

‘A Mr James Clarke was among those passing at the time,’ said Peter, ‘and he spotted the glistening Order of the Garter on the gentleman’s coat. Clarke immediately went to the Duke’s aid, picked him up and carried him back to his home at Clarence House, where he found a dozen servants standing outside waiting for their master’s carriage to return from the banquet. Two of them carried him up to his bed while another ran off to fetch a doctor. To everyone’s surprise, within a few days the Duke had fully recovered.’

‘However, the House of Lords later formed a special committee to investigate the incident,’ Artemisia picked up the story again, ‘and offered a thousand guineas’ reward forthe capture of Blood, dead or alive. The proclamation caused Blood and his co-conspirators to go underground again, and not one of them was captured. In fact, Blood’s whereabouts for the next few years remains a mystery. Though we do know that during that time he was planning an even bigger coup.’

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