The Amorous Nightingale by Edward Marston Page B

him hot and dishevelled. His wig was awry and his
hat clinging on at a perilous angle. The apparel over which he took such care
was smudged and wrinkled. A self- appointed man of fashion was, for once,
unkempt. It irked him.
        'Look
at the state of me,' he complained.
        'It's
hardly my fault.'
        'Of
course it's your fault, Christopher! But for you, there would have been no
urgency, no madcap ride around London.'
        'But
you were the person who received the royal summons.'
        'I thought I was,' said Henry darkly.
        'What
do you mean?'
        'I
was not even ushered into His Majesty's presence. After sustaining a vicious
wound at the hands of my barber, I went to the Palace in great haste, only to
be met by Will Chiffinch.'
        'Chiffinch?'
        'Page
of the Bedchamber.'
        'I
thought I had heard the name before.'
        'Anyone
who wishes to get close to His Majesty is acquainted with Will Chiffinch. He is
far more than a Closet- Keeper. He is the King's friend and trusted confidant,
his pimp, pander and procurer-general. Chiffinch is also employed on the most
secret and delicate business such as raising money for the royal purse or
supplying information of a highly sensitive nature.'
        'Then
why did this Mr Chiffinch send for you?'
        'In
order that I could be dispatched to find my brother.'
        Christopher
was astonished. 'Me?'
        'How
many brothers do I possess?'
        'But
I have never even met this Will Chiffinch.'
        'He
controls the door to His Majesty. That is what makes this all so humiliating. I
am hauled off to the Palace to be told that the royal summons is really
intended for you and that my sole contribution is to hunt you down at once. In
short,' said Henry, stamping a peevish foot, 'I am reduced to the status of a
servant, a messenger, an intercessory. Why not approach you directly? Why
involve me at all?'
        'Did
you not ask that?'
        'I
was not permitted to ask anything, Christopher. Besides, getting a straight
answer out of Will Chiffinch is like trying to tattoo a bubble in pitch
darkness with your hands tied behind your back. He is a master of evasion.
Truth and he parted company such a long time ago that they no longer have
anything in common.' He wiped the sweat from his face with a large
handkerchief. 'The upshot of it all is this: now that I've located you, I must
take you to the Palace of Westminster for a vital meeting.'
        'With
whom?'
        'I
was not told.'
        'Why
should I be summoned to the Palace?'
        'I am
beyond caring. All I know is that I must deliver you there with all due speed.'
He hauled himself up into the saddle. 'Mount up, Christopher. This farce has
gone on long enough. Come with me before I expire on the spot. It is so unkind,
so cruel. They do me wrong to send me on such a mean embassy.'
        'Is
that what it is?' wondered the other. 'A mean embassy?'
        Henry
straightened his hat and adjusted his coat.
        'There's
only one way to find out,' he said balefully.
     
            
        A servant
conducted them through the labyrinthine interior of the Palace before handing
them over to the Page of the Bedchamber. William Chiffinch was waiting for
them. A tall, spare, dignified man in sober attire, he was quite elderly yet
having a sprightliness that belied his years. There was something strangely
nondescript about Chiffinch, an elusive quality which made it somehow
impossible to remember the exact configuration of his features once you turned
away from him. He was a walking paradox, an impressive figure who was yet
almost invisible, a wielder of power who evinced no sense of his real
influence. Introduced to the man by his brother, Christopher was struck by the
dark, watchful, worldly eyes, taking everything in yet yielding nothing in
return. He felt that he had been judged and found wanting.
        'I am
to take you into His Majesty's