It was with a sense of trepidation that I heard the news of the death of the queen.
Obviously, for a man like me, this heralded a period of reorganization. With Mary in her coffin, Elizabeth would return to her rightful place as the monarch in waiting, and that must mean elevation for many of my colleagues who had worked so long and hard for this long-desired outcome. My own master, Sir Thomas Parry, would no doubt find himself in an advantageous position, and I could hope that he would take me along with him.
Jack Blackjack had been enormously useful in the years immediately before the coronation of our princess. He had smoothed the way for many of our lady’s enemies to be removed from her path. He was, I knew, a most competent operative.
And yet … there was a curious niggling doubt in my mind as I made my way to church that morning. There would be ructions, were the princess not to be conciliatory and gracious. It was always possible that a fresh grouping might seek to remove Elizabeth from her throne. There were many who feared a fresh female monarch. All those who supported the Holy Roman Church, all those who had invested their souls in Spanish politics, and all those who sought to enrich themselves, all had their own reasons, potentially, to seek the abdication or removal of Queen Elizabeth, and replace her with a man, someone who could lead the country through the troublesome shoals that beckoned.
We would have need of Jack Blackjack in the coming years.
It was curious to think it, but it was not so very long ago that I had wondered about his value. I had thought, perhaps, he was less able than I had first assumed. I had wondered whether he was truly a dedicated assassin, or whether I had been misled. Of course, he was clever to put on a show of anxiety and concern, but at bottom, he was a cool, level-headed killer.
I was sure of that.