The Eyes of the Queen Read online

Later, the Queen summons Master Francis Walsingham to Hampton Court. She is wearing silk the color of alabaster, and a very fine eau-de-Nil collar. Her hair is up, kept in place with jeweled pins that look like the nails you’d find in a sacristy door.

  “I thought you’d be more cheerful, Master Walsingham,” she tells him. “After all, your scheme worked out in almost its entirety?”

  Almost, he thinks. He did succeed in diverting Quesada’s fleet, and he foiled James Hamilton’s attempt on the Queen’s life, and he discovered—albeit too late to stop her—how Queen Mary sent word to the outside world, but he did not get so much as a glimpse of her cipher, nor did he discover how she herself received word. He asks himself why not? Why did he not put Nicholas Gethyn to the rack? He cannot say. Or he can, really. It was because of what Dee had said, when they stopped in Epping. That he thought what he was doing was good.

  Had Gethyn harmed Rose Cochet, then Walsingham would have stretched the man himself, but the girl was happy, beloved, well cared for in the center of Gethyn’s sprawling family, and Romilly Gethyn seemed to care for her likewise. It will be a shame to send her back to her grandfather, he thinks, but he supposes grief will have already intruded in that particular paradise.

  And the Queen is waiting for his answer.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. It worked out almost in its entirety.”

  She waits.

  “This time,” he finishes.

  She nods.

  “Thanks be to God,” she says. “And to John Dee.”

  Walsingham laughs.

  “And to John Dee,” he echoes.

  By God, he has almost become fond of the rascal.

  “But what of next time?” he wonders aloud. “We cannot pretend our enemies have gone away.”

  “Admiral Quesada has.” She laughs.

  “Yes,” he agrees, “but you know how many more like him there are in France and in Spain, and when they come—we have no men to defeat them on the battlefield, nor yet ships at sea.”

  “I cannot raise taxes further, Master Walsingham. Already my barons are squealing like squeezed pigs, and the wool trade is ground to nothing by the Dutch wars.”

  Walsingham nods. This is old territory.

  “We need a new kind of weapon.”

  “Such as—what?”

  “We need a company, or a guild, of men—and women—to collect intelligence and implement procedures that are paid for and directed outside the prescribed structure of oversight.”

  The Queen is puzzled. “Go on,” she says.

  “These men and women, they’d be obligated in certain instances to effect action central to the completion of a specific and critical task without regard for ancillary repercussions.”

  “I see.”

  “I mean, men loyal to Your Majesty, but whose actions cannot be connected to you. Men who work in the shadows. In the underworld. Who can pass unnoticed, unheralded, to take our fight to the enemy, to their very heart.”

  The Queen thinks for a long moment before nodding her approval.

  “A secret service,” she says.

  “Yes,” Walsingham agrees. “Your Majesty’s Secret Service.”

  “That has a ring to it.”

  “I have taken the liberty,” he says, “of compiling a list of those I think might contribute their skills.”

  He has with him the book he has brought from his room in Seething Lane, the simple clothbound book, the sort in which any wool merchant might keep his figures of profit and loss. He opens it and turns the pages until he comes to a back page on which is written a short list of names and numbers.

  “Who is he?” the Queen asks, pointing at the name Christopher Marlowe.

  “He is a bit young,” Walsingham tells her, “but shows great promise. A playwright.”

  The Queen sniffs. “Master Raleigh, lately of the Pelican—him, I know. He should be back to Cambridge this term. And ‘006 – Francis Drake.’ He was with Hawkins, wasn’t he? In New Spain?”

  Walsingham agrees he was. “I suggest that to preserve their identities, they be known only by the numbers as they appear here in my manifest.”

  “Double oh one. Double oh two,” the Queen says, running her finger down the names. “Yes. I like it. But there are only six names here. Tell me. Where is John? John Dee. Why is he not numbered here?”

  Walsingham sighs.

  “He… he has certain scruples,” he tells her. “This business with Isobel Cochet, and Willem van Treslong, and with Hamilton, too, of course: they have left him somewhat—ginger.”

  “I am not surprised,” the Queen says.

  She looks at Walsingham’s manifest.

  “Nevertheless,” she says, “enter him in your book. He is a man of singular talents without whom I dread to think where we would be.”

  When Walsingham pauses, the Queen sighs and snaps for the feather in Walsingham’s hand. She dips it into the inkpot and with a flourish writes: “007 – Dr. John Dee.”

  “There,” she says.

  The End

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Many thanks to Jake Mitchie, a pirate of the most excellent class, and to Toby Clements, a glorious magical wordsmith: my creative partners in bringing John Dee’s story to life.

  To my terrific editorial team, Rakesh Satyal and Loan Le, and to everyone at Atria for their support, especially Libby McGuire, Lindsay Sagnette, Jason Chappell, Kyoko Watanabe, James Iacobelli—what an incredible jacket—Nicole Bond, Gena Lanzi, and Isabel DaSilva.

  To my consigliere, Lisa Gallagher. You are not only the greatest agent but I’m deeply grateful to you and to the stars that aligned us. Our partnership is a thing of beauty, legend, and madness. Thank you.

  To Judith Curr, for believing in Leopoldo & Co. from the beginning.

  To Gigi Pritzker and Rachel Shane, for unleashing a Mexican.

  To my family and friends… I love you.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Oliver Clements is a writer and philosopher based in Mortlake, London.

  SimonandSchuster.com

  www.SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/Oliver-Clements

  @AtriaBooks @AtriaBooks @AtriaBooks

  We hope you enjoyed reading this Simon & Schuster ebook.

  Get a FREE ebook when you join our mailing list. Plus, get updates on new releases, deals, recommended reads, and more from Simon & Schuster. Click below to sign up and see terms and conditions.

  CLICK HERE TO SIGN UP

  Already a subscriber? Provide your email again so we can register this ebook and send you more of what you like to read. You will continue to receive exclusive offers in your inbox.

  An Imprint of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by Leopoldo & Co

  All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Atria Books Subsidiary Rights Department, 1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020.

  First Leopoldo & Co/Atria Books hardcover edition October 2020

  and colophon are trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  Interior design by Kyoko Watanabe

  Jacket design by James Iacobelli

  Jacket photographs by Jeff Cott
enden and Shutterstock

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for.

  ISBN 978-1-5011-5469-0

  ISBN 978-1-5011-5471-3 (ebook)