Free The Judas Blade by John Pilkington

this
game
, as you call it?’
    ‘It’s best to assume they don’t,’ the captain said. He gestured to the shoreline on their right, the boat having turned to starboard . ‘Observe, if you will. It looks peaceful enough, doesn’t it? This prosperous little country of tile-makers and tulip-growers? But dig deeper, and you’ll find the place seethes with fear and unrest – and intrigue. Why, we’ve had spies here for over a century! As for our ambassador: Sir William Temple left for England months ago, and won’t be back. Sir George Downing now sits in the Hague – the most rabid, Dutch-hating rogue you’ll find anywhere. Would you care to guess why he’s here?’ And when Betsy shook her head, he bent closer. ‘Because the King means to declare war on the Dutch.’
    Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his. She’d thought he was in jest, but one look was enough.
    ‘When?’ was all she could say.
    ‘Soon enough. He wanted to do it back in the summer, but he’s been persuaded to wait until next year. Early spring, would be my guess. That’s why he’s suspended Parliament, so he doesn’t have to ask their leave.’
    ‘Persuaded … by whom?’ Betsy asked. ‘His ministers?’
    ‘By King Louis, more like,’ Mullin replied. ‘Once the French come in with us, we’ll have a real war on our hands – not a fiasco like we had back in sixty-seven!’ He grimaced. The memory of England’s humiliation four years ago, when the Dutch fleet had sailed boldly up the Medway and bombarded the towns, still rankled with all her subjects.
    ‘But … I don’t understand,’ Betsy said, bewildered. ‘Don’t we have an alliance with the Dutch?’
    ‘It’s not worth a crock of spit,’ the other said flatly. ‘And de Witt and the other Dutch leaders are suspicious now – who could blame them? Even if those two crafty monarchs still bombard them with lies and promises. I speak of our dear Charles, and his good friend Louis Bourbon.’
    ‘Then, what in heaven’s name am I doing here, in all of this?’ Betsy exclaimed. ‘I don’t understand that either.’
    ‘Nor do I, just yet.’ Gently, Mullin took her arm and tucked it under his. ‘In the meantime, let’s play a dull married couple and talk of trivia, shall we?’
    ‘I thought you were certain no one could understand us,’ she said drily.
    ‘I’m as certain as I can be. But perhaps we’ll save the rest of our discourse for later. I need to ponder on what you’ve told me. Meanwhile …’ From the folds of his cloak, he produced a small silver flask and uncorked it. ‘Will you take a sip, madam?’ he enquired. ‘It will help to settle your stomach.’
    This time Betsy didn’t hesitate. The brandy was coarse, but in the circumstances, very welcome.

    That night, as Mullin foretold, the barque put ashore at a point halfway along their journey. It turned out to be the busy port of Flushing, about which even Betsy knew a little. Ships sailed often between here and England, which prompted her to wonder aloud why she’d arrived at Neiuwpoort.
    ‘Vessels from home are closely watched,’ was Mullin’s answer. ‘You’d stand out at once.’
    The two were sharing a supper of spiced beef and onions, washed down with wine which even Mullin found acceptable. Also at the table, in a private room at an inn near the waterfront, were Peter Crabb and Eleanor. Away from scrutiny, their servant roles had been set aside.
    ‘Do
you
not stand out here?’ Peter Crabb eyed his master across the table. ‘An English captain?’
    ‘Sometimes,’ Mullin replied with his mouth full. ‘But I not only speak the language, I carry a safe conduct to almost anywhere. There are some excellent forgers here, if you know where to look.’ He turned to Betsy. ‘Perhaps we should get a pass made out for you, too.’
    But Betsy, who had been quiet during most of the meal, threwhim a dark look. ‘I don’t intend to stay here long enough to need one,’ she said. ‘As soon as I