Page 11 of The King’s Man (Guardians of the Crown #2)

He sighed and asked again, his tone slow and heavy with threat. ‘Mistress Granville, do not trifle with me. When I ask you a question, I require you to answer me.’

‘I am from Hampshire,’ she said. ‘My family home is … was Hartley Court. My father, William Granville, is dead.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘I mean to protest my innocence.’

‘Your innocence of what? Do you know why you are being held?’

‘Some foolish allegation that I hurled a brickbat at the Lord Protector?’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘A foolish allegation, is it?’ He paused, studying her face, ‘Among my many duties, I have the pleasure of weeding out enemies of the Lord Protector.’

‘That must be an interesting task. I am sure the Lord Protector has many enemies.’

‘He does and you, Mistress Granville, can count yourself among them.’

His eyes narrowed and his face hardened. This was a man not to be crossed. Thamsine felt her knees go weak and she swallowed.

‘Sit down.’ He turned and indicated a chair that stood by itself in the middle of the room. Thamsine complied, sitting rigid, her hands clasped in her lap.

Thurloe gave a barely perceptible nod to the clerk, who began writing.

‘Mistress Granville, do you deny that you threw a brickbat at the carriage of the Lord Protector on the eighth day of February?’

‘I do.’

Thurloe sighed. ‘I see. Do you know what the punishment is for the attempted assassination of the Lord Protector?’

Thamsine stared at him.

‘Hanging, drawing and quartering. Have you ever seen a man hanged, drawn and quartered?’

She shook her head.

‘First, they will take you to the gibbet and hang you until you are not quite dead. Then you will be cut down and you will be disembowelled, your head and limbs cut from the body and dispersed about the kingdom as a warning to others.’ He watched her face from beneath his hooded eyes. ‘It is an unpleasant way to die.’

‘For a woman?’ Thamsine’s voice shook.

He shrugged.

‘What proof do you have that I committed this deed?’ Her voice wavered.

‘I am afraid, my dear Mistress Granville, I have a witness who has identified you as the perpetrator of this heinous act.’

‘Who is this eye-witness?’

‘Someone who saw you hurl the brickbat and then saw you again singing I believe, another violation of the law by the way, in a tavern. There is no mistake.’

She took a deep, shuddering breath and looked down at her manacled hands. ‘If, just if, I were to admit to such an offence would it … ? Would it make it easier?’

Thurloe moved from his place by the window to the fire. He prodded the logs for a moment or two, watching the sparks flying up the chimney, as if deep in thought.

‘It may depend on the reason why such an act was committed,’ he said at last. He turned to face her, crossing his arms, his dark eyes skewering her to her chair like a moth trapped in the light. ‘Do you admit you threw the brickbat?’

She nodded.

‘Did you act alone or in concert with others?’

She looked up at him. ‘Quite alone.’

‘The State has many enemies, Mistress Granville. Some would use any means to see the death of the Lord Protector. You have never had any business with such malignants, who might have ordered you to take this step?’

She shook her head. ‘Master Thurloe, I assure you I acted quite alone.’

‘What of those who were also taken at The Ship Inn? What dealings have you had with them?’

‘None,’ Thamsine protested. “I have recently secured employment at the inn. That is all.”

‘You have never attended any of their meetings? Been privy to their plotting?’

‘No.’ Thamsine’s voice rose. ‘I knew none of them, except … ’ She bit off the last name.

‘Except?’

‘Except Captain Lovell.’

‘And how do you know him?’

‘He … he was a friend of my brother.’ The lie came easily.

‘How do you come to be working in a tavern known to be haunted by Lovell and his friends?’

Thamsine swallowed. Her mouth was dry. ‘He helped me gain employment there.’

Thurloe did not respond, watching her face from under his hooded eyes. ‘You are evidently well-born. What about your family, Mistress Granville? How do you come to be singing tavern ditties and serving ale in a common inn?’

‘I have told you the truth, Master Thurloe. I have no family. They are all dead.’ Her voice began to waver.

‘I had been forced to vacate my home and had been living on the streets of London for nearly six months. That day, the day… I threw the brick at the coach, I reached a point of despair. There was no premeditation. It was an impulsive act of desperation, nothing more sinister than that.’

Thurloe regarded her thoughtfully for a long moment. ‘I am inclined to believe you, Mistress Granville,’ he said at last. ‘The question is, did you intend by your actions to kill the Lord Protector?’ As he spoke, he crossed to the table and sat down on the far side of it.

Thamsine managed a wan smile, spreading her hands in a dissembling motion. ‘My Lord, I’m a woman. Do you truly believe that I have the strength or capability to hurl such an awkward missile with an intent to kill?’

‘For a frail woman, you made quite a dent in the carriage, Mistress Granville.’ He sat back considering her, one finger laid against his mouth. Thamsine shifted in her chair. His silences were disconcerting.

‘Will I die?’ Thamsine looked down at her manacled hands, twisted together so tightly that the knuckles showed white.

‘I shall make a report to Council and they shall decide your fate, Mistress.’

Thamsine’s hand instinctively went to her throat and for the first time, Thurloe smiled, a cold, unpleasant smile that did not touch his eyes.

‘The Council of State is not likely to look kindly on a murderess, however pitiful her tale.’

‘I haven’t murdered anyone. All I have done is dent a coach.’ She could hear the desperation rising in her voice.

Thurloe did not respond. He rang a small bell on the table and the turnkey appeared at the door with the sort of speed that indicated he had been listening at the keyhole.

‘See Mistress Granville back to her cell.’