Gideon's Angel by Clifford Beal Read Free Book Online Page A

same course. And those same shoals of Death that he had foundered upon were looming fast for me. That wasn’t the way I planned on leaving this world for the next. I had to steer a new course, one that didn’t involve unmasking those in league with the Devil. I did not want to go down that path again. And maybe, maybe there was a way.
     
     
    L ORD H ERBERT WAS curt but polite. “My lord Gerard has no wish to meet with you, Colonel. I am sorry.”
    “Well,” I said, “I can’t blame him for that. I acted the knave when we last met.”
    We walked together in the Tuileries, the bare branches of the pear trees rattling in the late winter air. The old man offered me no comfort.
    “We misjudged your intentions, sir, which are most clear. So what further business can we possibly have?”
    “I won’t mince my words. I am your man for the West.”
    Herbert stopped short and turned to me. “Surely a jest, sir?”
    “I am in deadly earnest, sir. I’ve reconsidered.”
    His head swivelled about, looking to see what other people strolled the gardens. “Your contrary nature does not give me confidence. And I doubt very much that Lord Gerard would consider your recruitment after you made yourself so plain before.”
    I nodded as I drew in a deep breath of cold air, tinged, even in winter’s embrace, with the stink of the Seine. “That may be true. But I am the man for the West and my lord Gerard knows the soldier I am. If anyone can accomplish this miracle it is I. There is no one else at court who can do this deed.”
    “You are an artful adventurer, Sir Richard. That I give you. But the others may have their doubts.”
    “Then there is yet one more reason. I won’t cost you a single shilling. I shall undertake this mission with my own resources. Soldiering in the service of the Cardinal pays well and I have little to spend the money on.”
    Lord Herbert pulled his cassock closer about his shoulders as a stiff gust rocked us, whiffling the brims of our hats. “That’s a bold change of heart, sir. One that does not sit well with me.”
    I shrugged off his caution. “My regiment moves north in a matter of weeks—or less. If I’m to fly the nest it will have to be sooner than later, before orders are received. I am ready to leave the moment you give the word.”
    Herbert’s hand reached out and touched my wrist. “Steady on, sir, steady on. Even if Gerard agrees—and I am in no certainty of that—you must receive instruction. There is the matter of contacts, of ciphers, of places of rendezvous... you’ll have need of a travelling name.”
    I looked Lord Herbert square in the eye. “I am no stranger to these things, of that be assured. As for a name and a story, I have that too.”
    His eyebrows arched. “Have you now?”
    “Call me Andreas Falkenhayn, wool merchant of Flanders.”
    “A foreigner? The redcoats will seize you in an instant. No, that would not do at all.”
    “The moment Richard Treadwell sets foot in England,” I said, my voice as low as I could make it, “he’s as good as dead if he is discovered. That was the bargain—if ever I returned, Cromwell will hang me. So be it. I understood the terms of my banishment, then as now. I’m not afraid to return but by God I will give myself a fighting chance.”
    Herbert, flustered, strove to find the words. “But a Fleming? What... what will that accomplish?”
    “Not a Fleming, a German. I speak the tongue well. A suit of clothes, the right hat, I grow my beard long, that is the trick,” I said.
    “The trick to draw attention to yourself, more like. Who is this Falkenhayn?”
    “ This Falkenhayn, my lord, is an arrow speeding to the heart of the Tyrant. I ask you to draw the bow and send it on its way.”
    Lord Herbert looked ahead again and began walking, a slow, measured pace. But he said nothing. I stood my ground there on the path and presently he noticed I was not at his side. He stopped and did a half turn to see what held me