The Queen's Man by Rory Clements

ragged lines in Shrewsbury’s face were suddenly deeper, his pallid skin paler. ‘A one-armed Frenchman with a nose that has been compared to that of a wolf’s. He would be difficult to miss.’
    ‘Seguin.’ The earl sighed heavily. ‘One arm . . .’
    ‘Have you seen him?’
    ‘I fear I have. Yes, yes, he was here. He called himself François Seguin, doctor of medicine. And like a fool I allowed him to see her.’
    Shakespeare was appalled. ‘He was permitted to meet the Queen of Scots?’
    ‘Four days ago. The papist had been begging me for months to allow her a visit from a new physician, one she had heard of in France when she was married to the French king, one who she said would be able to save her where other men could not. She told me that her own physician, Dr Burgoyne, and her surgeon, Jarvis, lacked knowledge and potions and that she would die without Seguin’s care and ministration.’
    ‘Did you meet this man?’
    ‘I entertained him to dinner. He was good company. I do not have much in the way of company, Mr Shakespeare. As you must know, I am forbidden to leave my post as custodian and come to court. And so I take my cheer where I may. Visitors are welcome at my table. Even young factotums of Walsingham if they have wit. Anyway, continue, if you will. Who is this Seguin?’
    ‘His real name is Leloup. He is the Duke of Guise’s man.’
    ‘Guise?’ The little colour left in the earl’s face drained away.
    ‘When not ministering to the sick, he organises assassinations on the duke’s behalf.’
    ‘God’s blood, what have I done?’
    ‘That is what we must discover. Is Leloup still here?’
    Shrewsbury shook his head. ‘He left soon after their meeting. He came to me and thanked me for allowing him access, but said that he could not stay, for he had to bring mithridate to her, or she would most certainly die. He said he would be back as soon as he could. I shook him by the hand and hurried him on his way, for I feared the worst. Mary has ailed for many months now. My duty is to keep her alive, Mr Shakespeare, whatever other men might wish.’
    ‘How long was Leloup with her? Was he accompanied?’
    ‘He arrived here alone. He did not even have a servant. The only one with him when he met Mary Stuart was her own man, who resides here in her apartments, a young Scot named Buchan Ord. My chief of guards, Mr Wren, told me they were with her an hour.’
    ‘I will need to speak with Mr Ord and Mr Wren.’
    ‘That will be easily arranged.’
    Shakespeare was appalled. The earl had clearly been guilty of a shocking dereliction of duty. At the very least, he should have requested permission from the Privy Council before allowing Mary such a visitor. As a Privy Councillor himself – even one who was never able to attend meetings – he should have known as much. And Shakespeare was aware that this was not the first time the earl had taken such matters into his own hands. Perhaps the scandalous talk at court that he was becoming altogether too close to the Scots Queen had some foundation in fact. Shakespeare kept his expression carefully neutral.
    ‘Tell me more about your surveillance of Mary, if you would, my lord.’
    ‘Surveillance?’
    ‘Did anyone manage to overhear Leloup’s conversation with her?’
    ‘What are you implying, Shakespeare?’
    ‘Is she spied on at all times?’
    ‘Do you think I am a man without honour? This may be a garrison but it is also my home. Mary is my royal guest, Queen of Scotland. I will not countenance Walsingham’s damnable practices in this place. It is enough that I must hold the wretched woman captive these interminable years . . .’
    Shakespeare needed no more evidence; however suitable the earl might once have been as a gaoler, those days were past. He needed to be replaced. The next question was over the security of the castle. If Leloup was plotting to break Mary free from her cage, then someone must have spotted a hole in the security