Doctor Who_ The Roundheads - Mark Gatiss [84]
There was a tap at the door and Cromwell took up position by the fireplace, legs akimbo and arms behind his back.
‘Come!’ he barked.
To his surprise and annoyance, it was Richard who came inside, oscillating from one foot to the other like some weedy metronome.
‘Oh, Richard,’ wailed Cromwell. ‘What do you want?’
Richard came forward, almost tripping over his feet.
‘I bring news, Father.’
‘Hmm?’ muttered Cromwell. ‘News? What news?’
Richard smiled triumphantly. ‘News of the future.’
Surely, he had concluded, this was the way to win his father’s respect. He would show him the book and its incredible information about the years to come. All the mistakes they would make would be set out in detail and, therefore, strenuously avoided. It would be the making of him and of the new English republic.
Cromwell shifted uneasily, his boil troubling him again.
‘The future? What are talking about, lad?’
Richard sidled up to his father and leaned back confidently against the globe that stood next to him.
‘What would you say, Father, if I told you that I know when the King will die and exactly what will happen next?’
Cromwell scowled. ‘I’d say you’d been at your mother’s sherry again.’
Richard frowned and waved his hand in irritation. ‘No, no.
I am in earnest.’
Cromwell advanced on his son threateningly. ‘Have you been speaking to that Doctor and the Scot?’
Richard smiled happily. ‘Yes! They have shown me the most wondrous things! The future, all mapped out for us, Father.’
Cromwell sighed and smote himself across the forehead.
‘Clot! Do you not know that I have thrown them in the Tower?
They are Royalist spies who seek to baffle us all with their fakery.’
Richard felt his legs begin to shake. ‘But, Father, the book
–’
‘Book?’ snapped Cromwell. ‘What book?’
He swung around and turned his back on Richard.
‘Enough, lad. I am too busy to play out your idle fancies.
Leave me.’
‘But, Father.’
‘Leave me!’ bellowed the general.
With a little sob, Richard turned and slunk from the room.
He was replaced at once by Thomas Culpeper, who came swiftly inside, glancing after Richard’s retreating back and shutting the door behind him. He saluted to his superior and immediately produced a scroll of paper from inside his tunic.
‘Tom,’ said Cromwell with a little bow. ‘What news?’
Culpeper sighed and waved his hand helplessly. ‘A multitude of sightings, General,’ he said. ‘But nothing substantial, I fear.’
Cromwell stamped his booted foot on the floor. ‘He cannot be out of the city, else we would have heard of it by now. And yet, if he remains, what can be the point of it?’
He stared into space for a long moment and chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully. ‘There is something afoot, Tom, or I do not know that dissembling man.’
Culpeper nodded slowly. ‘If I may suggest, General, Thurloe’s agents –’
Cromwell swung round. ‘Do not get above yourself, Captain. John Thurloe’s agents are doing the best they can. I have every confidence in ’em.’..
He turned an interested eye on his aide. An ambitious lad, of course, but capable and loyal. It would be better for all if his energies were given direction.
Cromwell lifted the back of his coat and warmed himself before the crackling fire.
‘However...’
Culpeper’s face lit up excitedly. ‘General?’
‘Mayhap Master Thurloe is too preoccupied to properly prosecute his investigation of this rescue. I am convinced that we have been betrayed. There is a rotten man among our number, Tom.’
Culpeper looked at him eagerly.
Cromwell nodded to himself. ‘I’d like you to look into it, Tom.’
Culpeper bowed low and Cromwell gave him a light-hearted slap across the shoulder. ‘Away with you, I’m not the King.’ Culpeper looked up and caught the general’s eye. He smiled. Cromwell laughed. ‘Nor ever shall be! Despite what you might think, my lad!’
He waved Culpeper away but the young man hesitated. ‘A question, sir?’
Cromwell’s eyebrows lifted a fraction. ‘Hmm?’
Culpeper chose his words carefully.