The Baltic War(191)

"I said, stop bragging."





Chapter 43





London, England


"Search their quarters?" said Sir Paul Pindar. "Are you mad, Sir Francis?"



Seeing Windebank starting to bridle, Richard Boyle immediately intervened. "Please, Paul! That was uncivil."



Pindar visibly restrained his temper. By now, unfortunately, the antagonism between him and Windebank had reached the point where it was something of a constant problem for the earl of Cork. Not for the first time, he missed Endymion Porter. Although one of the youngest of Cork's party, Sir Endymion had had the knack for soothing frayed tempers.



"My apologies, Sir Francis," said Pindar. The curt manner in which he extended the apology almost vitiated it of any real content—there was certainly no sincerity in it—but the fact was enough.



"That's done, then," said Boyle. "Francis, I have to tell you that I agree with Paul, although he didn't need to be rude about it. Searching the quarters of the American embassy would be most unwise."



Windebank shifted his angry gaze from Pindar to Cork. "Richard, they've been there for months. I only discovered yesterday that Wentworth never had their quarters or persons searched after they arrived. Proof of treason in itself, that."



Boyle had to fight to keep his own temper down, now. He didn't actually disagree with Pindar's assessment of Windebank. The man was an arrogant ass, who'd have been insufferable except that his influence in powerful circles made suffering him a necessity. That was the reason the earl of Cork had proposed him for Constable of the Tower in the first place. It was a prestigious position, which had led Windebank to accept—and had the great benefit of keeping him out from underfoot constantly at the real center of power in Whitehall.



Not out from underfoot enough, unfortunately. Sir Francis still spent far more time in the royal palace than he did overseeing his responsibilities in the Tower. The problem with the man wasn't simply that he was arrogant, but that he was an ass. Not technically stupid, perhaps, but the distinction didn't mean much in practice. Windebank was one of those men so sure of himself that, within a week, he was convinced that his own lies were the truth—which was dangerous, under the circumstances.



Referring to Wentworth as a traitor was absurd, and everyone in Cork's party knew it. The charge had served the purpose of giving Cork an immediate pretext for having the earl of Strafford arrested and removed from power. A plausible enough one, too, at the time. But, that done, to pursue it would be folly. The last thing Richard Boyle wanted was for Parliament—and such a charge would have to be presented to Parliament, given the situation—to start nosing about the events of that fateful day. Fabricated evidence was risky, and there simply wasn't any evidence that wouldn't be fabricated.



Windebank, overconfident as always, was sure that the bloody escape of the three officers who'd been detained was sufficient evidence in itself. But that probably wouldn't have been true even if they'd obtained a signed confession from Leebrick. In the absence of any such document, especially with Leebrick and his men still at large, it would be risky to pursue the matter.



For that very reason, in fact, they'd all agreed a fortnight earlier to destroy the unsigned document and quietly let the search for Leebrick lapse into dormancy. By now, the three mercenary officers were surely off the island, in any event. Best to just let the whole business die a natural death—given that it was so much easier to simply charge Wentworth with having grossly violated the laws and customs of the kingdom. The man was so widely hated in England that Parliament would accept that, and cheerfully. By following that course, even if Leebrick did someday surface, what would it matter? An accusation that they had falsely accused Wentworth of treason when no such charge was formally leveled would simply be shrugged off. Who was to say what had been involved in their bloody escape? Perhaps nothing more than a quarrel with Endymion Porter that had escalated to murder—which, if need be, could be substantiated by the officers' theft of Porter's purse.



So, among themselves—and in public, of course—Cork and his party had let the word "traitor" slide out of usage in favor of the more general "tyrant." Or "usurper," at times, not with the implication that Wentworth had actually tried to depose the king but simply that he had taken royal prerogatives upon himself without the knowledge or consent of the king.



In short, only the ass Windebank still kept referring to Wentworth as an outright traitor.



"We have no idea what devices they might have in their possession, in St. Thomas' Tower, Richard," Sir Francis pressed on. "Weapons, munitions, signaling devices—who knows?"