The Secret Diary of Thomas Snoop, Tudor Boy Spy Read online

  I looked. It was carved of bone in the shape of a rabbit poking its head out of a gap between parted grass. It had a toothy smile that reminded me of my father’s servant, Hogg.

  I felt a little leap inside my chest, which was lead-heavy at the thought of Master Tundy.

  “I believe you have one such – er – trinket of your own,” he said.

  I did not know what to say. I realised that my breathing had quickened.

  “A gift from Lady Margaret P—” he added, naming the lady with the unspellable name which, I think, rhymes with hurtle124. “To wish you luck.”

  If I were the kind of boy whose jaw dropped in surprise when surprised, my jaw would have dropped in surprise. “You…? You…?” I began.

  “Yes,” said the earl and then, in case I thought he’d somehow stolen the pendant from the Lady Margaret P—and was trying to trick me, he said the secret word to identify himself as working with Lord Severn, and I gave the appropriate response. (Writing in code or not, I am not so foolish as to write either here. I would have to be a real fopdoodle125 to do that!)

  So I was wrong. I had believed that no-one in Goldenhilt Hall knew that I was a spy, when its master knew all along!

  He pointed to a stool. “Sit,” he said. “And tell me all you know.”

  And so I did, doing my best to leave nothing out.

  When I had finished, we sat in silence for a while whilst his lordship digested the information I had provided.

  “So I was the one you suspected above all others?” he said, smiling without mirth.

  “Yes, my lord,” I said. “I… I…am sorry.”

  “Do not apologise,” said his lordship. “You have no reason to, Snoop. You followed the evidence and it pointed towards me.”

  “What of the priest hole?” I asked.

  “It was inspired by a priest hole but that is not its function,” he replied. “You will gather that I have the confidence of the King. This gathering of nobles, for example, is an opportunity for us to discuss important matters away from the court and prying eyes of foreign ambassadors and the like. The room – the priest hole, as thy thought it – is a repository for the most secret of documents and, should it ever become necessary, the hiding of personages that need not concern you… but what puzzles me more is the window in the steward’s office. If not pointing at the coat of arms, what was my poor, faithful Roger Tundy trying to tell you?”

  I produced Master Tundy’s list of noble visitors and unfolded it.

  “The answer lies in here, my lord. I’m sure of it,” I said. “If we could just find someone with a womanly-sounding name and…”

  “With the name Glass or Window-Pane!” said the earl. “I doubt our chances. I feel that we should have everyone assemble in the Great Hall, bring this Mary Wood girl in, disguised to look very different to her usual self and my daughter, and see if something – anything – jolts her memory into remembering some minor detail that helps her identify the treacherous plotters who threatened her!”

  “Her memory seems hazy,” I said, “and I fear time may be against us, your lordship. For them to have attacked Master Tundy, knowing that he – or his body – might soon be discovered…”

  “Yes. That’s true–” he began, but I interrupted him.

  “My Lord!”

  “What is it, boy?”

  “Casement!” I cried. “The Most Noble Thomas Casement, Duke of Hampton!”

  “What of him? I know him well.”

  “Casement, my lord!” I repeated. “It is a type of window… It is one which opens126, such as the larger of the two in Master Tundy’s office. And Master Tundy must know the term, for he must have been responsible for keeping accounts of all your building work. He was trying to tell me it was Casement who attacked him. The Duke of Hampton!”

  “But I have known his grace for –”

  “Grace!” I cried again. “A woman’s name!”

  His lordship’s and my eyes met.

  “I’ll bet my hat that’s the name Mary Wood thought she heard one plotter call the other! One of the men you’re after is His Grace, the Duke of Hampton!”

  “By the Lord Almighty you must be right!” said the Earl of Drayshire. “Anna cannot have taught the imposter girl” – by which he meant Mary – “the correct form of address for each and every noble rank! She took Grace to be a name! Go to the maze, find the girl and ask whether Grace is the name she heard. See if that fills that gap in her recollection! Meanwhile, I will muster my forces. If she answers ‘Yes!’, then we shall make our next move!”

  I sought out Mary Wood and no sooner had I said the word Grace than her eyes widened and her worried face broke into a smile. “Yes!” she said excitedly.

  “How could I forget? Yes, yes. A thousand times yes!” She paused.

  “How did you find out?” she asked.

  The Earl of Drayshire thought that it was only fit and proper that I should be there for the arrest of the treacherous Thomas Casement, Duke of Hampton. It came as a surprise that Scullion the giant spit-boy was there also; not discovered with the duke but accompanying the earl’s party127. “I find people are more willing to co-operate when Scullion is present,” the earl smiled. His Lordship is a man of many surprises.

  The end for the traitors came quickly. We burst into the duke’s guest chamber – one of the very finest in Goldenhilt Hall, befitting of his rank – and found him seated at a portable writing desk.

  “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded. This was quickly followed by cries of, “How dare you?”, “Take your hands off me!”, some swearing I am reluctant to include here – code or no code – and a final cry of, “The king shall hear of this!”

  “And this,” said the earl, holding up some documents just found by one of his men searching the room. His eyes read down the page.

  The Duke of Hampton fell silent.

  “A letter to the King of Spain himself, with talk of a sympathetic ear and plans afoot.”

  The duke was being held by Scullion from behind, beside his impressive bed. He had given up struggling. It would have been daffysh128 to have continued when in the grip of a man too big for

  Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the duke try – with as much subtlety possible – to push something under the bed and out of sight with the tip of his shoe. Something red.

  His face dropped when I walked over to him, bent down and pulled out the item from its hiding place.

  It was a set of plans. A set of plans for the construction of the staircase, including the secret ‘priest hole’ room. The red was Master Tundy’s blood. I felt the anger rise inside me. The steward must either have interrupted their searching his office for it, or been forced to give it to them. Either way, they had stabbed him and he was now at death’s door… I raged inside.

  “Who is your accomplice, Hampton?” demanded our host.

  “How dare you speak to me in that manner!” sneered the duke. “I am your superior!129”

  “It is Sir Henry Quilt, Father,” said The Lady Anna, entering the room, Mary at her side. Everyone’s eyes widened at the shock and wonderment of actually seeing the two young women together.

  “How do you know with such certainty, daughter?” asked the earl, looking from one child to the other.

  “After Thomas here finished asking Mary about Grace, more memories – more images – can back to her,” she said. “She left the maze and caught sight of Sir Henry amongst those in the garden. She recognised him at once.”

  “That I did, my lords,” said Mary looking down at her feet. With all pretence of being a lady having gone, she did not hide her awkwardness in such important company.

  The Lady Anna squeezed her hand. “Mary came to find me and, when we both returned, he was still there,” she said. “He was obviously waiting for someone –” The Lady Anna turned and looked at the duke “– and I knew him to be Sir Henry Quilt.”

  With the Duke of Hampton still in Scullion’s rack-like130 grip, the ea
rl instructed his men to find Sir Henry Quilt, which they did. He was soon apprehended – putting up the minimum of resistance – and now both he and the duke await the arrival of the king’s guards. I suspect that it is only a matter of time until they get a full confession.

  This means that my work here at Goldenhilt Hall is done. My work as a spy, that is. William de Grieff, the Earl of Drayshire, has asked that I stay on until his guests depart, with his secretary standing in for poor Master Tundy. He feels that I know more than anyone the arrangements that were put into place. I am proud and honoured to continue the work of the loyal and honourable Roger Tundy, for however short a time.

  I am also greatly proud of the part I played in thwarting the early stages of a plot to put King Philip of Spain or one of his puppets on the English throne. I only pray that Master Tundy lives, and look I forward to my next mission, wherever it might lead me.

  118 Referred to as in ‘looked at it for information’, not referred to as in ‘talked about’.

  119 A puzzle box is a box which appears to have no lid. It can only be opened by sliding, pressing or turning various pieces of wood into the correct positions in the correct order. A novelty or game, they can also make a satisfying hiding place for small objects.

  120 Once written, a letter would be folded and sealed shut with melted sealing wax (often red). This was in the days before envelopes. To identify who the letter was from, and to show that it was authentic, the sender could then use his signet ring to make an impression of his coat of arms in the wax before it dried solid. If the seal was broken before it reached its intended recipient, it would show that the letter had already been read or tampered with.

  121 Although his actual name is William de Grieff and his actual title is the Earl of Drayshire, he should be greeted as Lord Drayshire. Confusing, or what?

  122 As Christians, praying to God for many things – happiness in marriage, success in battle, a bountiful crop – was vitally important.

  123 A doublet was a type of jacket, popular with the wealthy and well-to-do.

  124 As in two knights hurtling towards each other on horses, at a jousting tournament, trying to knock the other off theirs with a lance. (Tudor King Henry VIII was badly injured in a joust.)

  125 No, not one of Thomas Snoop’s coding errors, but Tudor slang for ‘simpleton’ or ‘idiot’.

  126 Snoop made a sketch of such a window in his entry for Day Eight (page 60).

  127 Not a party with cake and balloons but party as in a group of men.

  128 Foolish.

  129 In order of so-called importance, it went dukes, marquises, earls, viscounts, barons. Men either inherited the title on the death of the previous holder of the title, or were given the title by a monarch.

  130 The rack was an instrument of torture, where the victim’s arms were tied at one end and their legs at the other, and were stretched.

  No records remain of Thomas Snoop’s life as a spy, so we can only assume that he was a good one. We do know that he was later knighted for ‘services to the crown’ and must assume that it was for his undercover work for the shady Lord Severn. John Rider made a full recovery from his mob football injuries and lived to the ripe old age of forty-four. Thankfully, Master Tundy survived the knife attack. It is believed that his rotundity – his roundness – stopped the dagger going in as far as it might have otherwise. Once recovered, he lost a great deal of weight and – though never fit enough to run the Goldenhilt Hall household again – he lived there in comfort in return for his loyal years of service to the de Grieff family. The Lady Anna made a ‘good marriage’ by marrying into a rich family. Mary Wood made an even better marriage by marrying a man she loved. As for the fight against Catholics? Traitors were usually executed. The first Tudor king, Henry VII, was Catholic, and so was England. Although his son, Henry VIII, broke away from the Church of Rome, England didn’t become a protestant country until the reign of his son Edward VI, when the events in this diary took place. When Edward VI died and his half-sister, Mary, became queen, England went back to being a Catholic country again. And she persecuted Protestants. But when her half-sister, Elizabeth I, became queen, the country became Protestant again! Elizabeth was the last of the Tudors. She had the first true spymaster, a man named Sir Francis Walsingham.

  It would be surprising if you didn’t notice that just about EVERYONE in the excellent illustrations, by Jamie Littler, is wearing a hat most of the time. The bigger the hat, the more important the wearer. As you’ll see, most of the labourers are wearing flat caps: low hats for the lower classes. William de Grieff, the Earl of Drayshire, and the Most Noble Thomas Casement, Duke of Hampton, however, have far more impressive affairs, the duke’s with a richly decorated band, and held in place with a jewelled broach. The married ladies are mainly wearing the French hood (the peak-shaped head gear). You’ll notice that young children and poorer women are wearing the simple coif – often known as ‘the biggin’ – which was plain white linen and tied under the chin.

  Although none of the characters in this book are real and there is and was no Goldenhilt Hall, what IS true is the information about such Tudor houses, and life in Tudor times, from sharing beds to mob football. And the Tudor kings and queens, of course.

  Another great way to bring history to life is to visit a National Trust property. This will give you a glimpse into the lives of people in the past.

  Also available:

  THE SECRET DIARY OF

  John Drawbridge, Medieval Knight in Training

  THE SECRET DIARY OF

  Jane Pinny, Victorian House Maid (and Accidental Detective)

  Look out for:

  THE SECRET DIARY OF

  Kitty Cask, Smuggler’s Daughter

  Copyright

  First published in the UK in 2018 by Nosy Crow Ltd

  The Crow’s Nest, Baden Place, Crosby Row

  London, SE1 1YW, UK

  The words ‘The National Trust’ and the oak leaf logo are registered trademarks of the National Trust for England, Wales and Northern Ireland used under licence from National Trust (Enterprises) Limited (Registered Company Number 01083105).

  Nosy Crow and associated logos are trademarks and/or

  registered trademarks of Nosy Crow Ltd

  Text copyright © Philip Ardagh, 2018

  Illustrations © Jamie Littler, 2018

  The right of Philip Ardagh and Jamie Littler to be identified as the author and illustrator respectively of this work has been asserted by them in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book will be available from the British Library

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  ISBN: 978 1 78800 055 0

  eISBN: 978 1 78800 056 7

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