Page 126 of By the Sword
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Jonathan’s second visitor for the day arrived within the hour. Feigning sleep, Jonathan watched from half-closed eyes as the door creaked open to reveal a man standing in the doorway, a kerchief pressed to his nose.
‘He’s not well, sir,’ the turnkey said. ‘I reckon as he’ll be lucky to see out the month.’
‘I see. Why was I not informed of his condition earlier?’
‘You said–’ the turnkey began but a wave of the man’s hand cut his protestations short.
‘Wake him.’
The turnkey moved to the bed and prodded Jonathan. Jonathan, his breath rattling in his chest, pulled himself into a sitting position and pushed the hair away from his eyes to face the man responsible for his misery.
Forearmed by Nathaniel’s visit, he gathered his scattered wits and prepared for battle.
‘Turnkey, remove those manacles,’ Thurloe said.
The turnkey obeyed, removing the ankle chains as well. Jonathan had not been expecting that one act of compassion. It was probably intended to make him profoundly grateful to this man. All part of the game Thurloe was playing with him.
‘Leave us,’ Thurloe commanded and the door shut behind the turnkey.
‘Stand up, Thornton.’
Not without difficulty, Jonathan complied with the order. The movement brought on a bout of coughing and he found he had to lean against the wall to keep himself upright.
Thurloe looked him up and down and Jonathan wondered what Thurloe saw behind the filthy, bearded prisoner. A man whom he had broken? A man who could be made to see reason?
‘Are you ready to talk with me, Thornton?’
‘What do you want of me, Thurloe?’
Thurloe smiled. ‘You are the singular possessor of attributes that could be of great value to me.’
‘I have nothing of value.’
‘Ah, but you do. To begin, you have no family, no ties.’
‘Not quite true,’ Jonathan said. ‘I have a sister who cares for me.’
Thurloe shrugged. ‘Secondly, you have no money.’
That at least was correct.
‘And thirdly you are a close personal friend of Charles Stuart, who you will no doubt be relieved to hear made his way back to France like a whipped dog.’
Jonathan closed his eyes. The King was safe.
He summoned his strength. ‘So?’
‘I am prepared to offer you your freedom.’
‘And in return?’ Jonathan asked, already guessing at the answer.
‘Information,’ Thurloe replied. ‘I can arrange your plausible escape from your present predicament. Your friends in Paris will of course greet you with open arms and there you will be in an ideal position to provide me with regular information of use to the Commonwealth.’
Jonathan gave a hollow laugh. ‘Why don’t you just say the word “spy” and be done with it?’
‘Very well, I want you to spy for me. Direct enough?’ Thurloe looked around the cell. ‘You must admit that at this point you have nothing to lose.’
