Free A Conspiracy of Violence by Susanna Gregory Page B

sort of man does that to another human being?’
    The descriptions that sprung into Chaloner’s mind were unrepeatable. He affected nonchalance, although she had chosen another
     subject about which he felt strongly. ‘Downing supported Cromwell for ten years, and needed a spectacular way to prove himself
     loyal to the King. What better way than presenting His Majesty with three former friends to be sentenced to a hideous death?’
    She regarded him silently for a moment. ‘Were you with Downing when he caught them? He said you parted company last spring,
     and that was when those men were apprehended.’
    ‘Is there any more tonic?’
    ‘You refuse to answer. Why? Because you helped Downing? Or because you decline to be associated with his shameful behaviour?’
    Chaloner glanced towards the door. ‘Because I do not want to engage in such talk when the man is within spitting distance
     of us.’
    ‘Spitting is the best thing to do to him. My husband went to watch those poor men die, but I could not bring myself to join
     him. Did you go?’
    ‘No,’ replied Chaloner shortly. ‘Shall I stoke up the fire? It is cold in here.’
    ‘It is not cold,’ she said softly. ‘So, I surmise from your reaction that you objected to what he did, and you arguedabout it. That is why he hates you, and why you are so open in your disdain for him. It is nothing to be ashamed of – there
     are men who would shake your hand for defying him.’
    ‘And there are others who would hang me for angering a friend of the King.’
    ‘Downing is no man’s friend. The King was angry about what happened to those particular regicides – I heard him myself, telling
     the Earl of Clarendon how wrong it was to demand the return of criminals from a foreign country. He said it made us look stupid,
     for allowing their escape in the first place.’
    ‘The Dutch refused the extradition at first,’ said Chaloner, relenting and recalling the tense negotiations that had taken
     place between government officials and Downing. ‘But he bullied, cajoled and bribed, and eventually they capitulated. One
     clerk told me it was just to make him go away. And John Okey, Miles Corbet and John Barkstead paid the price.’
    ‘Did you meet the regicides? I suppose you did: Englishmen abroad naturally gather together, no matter what their political
     affiliation.’
    Chaloner frowned: first Leybourn had questioned him, and now Sarah Dalton was doing it. He was tempted to tell her to mind
     her own business, but if she was close enough to Thurloe to refer to him as ‘John’, then it would be unwise to alienate her.
    ‘They were not interested in talking to clerks,’ he replied vaguely.
    She poked the embers with a stick. ‘I have always wanted to see Holland, but my husband tells me it is too far. I doubt I
     will ever go – at least, not as long as I am married to him.’
    ‘You could always go to East Anglia instead. There is not much to choose between them in terms of bogs and flat fields.’
    She raised her eyebrows, amused. ‘I see I am talking to a true romantic.’
    Chaloner was relieved when Thurloe came to tell Sarah that her husband was ready to leave. He waited in the bedchamber until
     they had gone, unwilling to endure another spat with Downing. His encounter with Sarah had been perplexing, but now he needed
     to muster his wits and convince Thurloe that he would be a worthy addition to the new government’s intelligence services.
    ‘They have gone,’ said Thurloe, beckoning him into the sitting room. ‘Dalton is a decent soul, but Downing is a sore trial.
     I cannot imagine how you managed to put up with him all those years. I should have paid you double, to compensate you for
     such unpleasant working conditions.’
    ‘He has his good points,’ replied Chaloner, walking carefully so as not to draw attention to his stiff leg. The chamber still
     reeked of Dalton’s orange water.
    ‘Name one,’ challenged Thurloe. Chaloner