by S. J. Parris
Her round face crumples and she nods mutely, tears springing to her eyes. ‘I never meant harm to no one, sir, on my life. Carrying letters is not a sin, last I heard.’
I let her go with a sigh. ‘No. But lying is. And so is abetting a murderer.’
She looks stricken, but she volunteers nothing further. Either she is as ignorant as she says, or Jenkes frightens her more than I do. Suddenly her expression changes as her eyes dart past me; her mouth curves into a malicious little smile. I whip round to see the stable lad reappear with a solid-looking man from the kitchen.
‘You all right, love?’ he asks her, balling his big hands into fists at his side in readiness. I fix Hetty with a hard look; I see her calculating the opposing risks. Finally she picks up her pail and nods.
‘Fine, Harry. Just getting the water.’ She shoots me a resentful glance.
‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ I say, with more self-possession than I feel, as I walk calmly between them towards the gates of the inn yard. I keep a hand to my knife, half expecting them to hurl themselves after me as soon as my back is turned, but they content themselves with a few muttered curses.
I turn in the direction of the Hoegate at a half-run, forcing myself to believe that there is still a chance of catching Lady Arden before Jenkes finds her. It is broad daylight, the streets are far from deserted, the castle itself is garrisoned: what can they do, in such a public place? They can hardly attack her right there. In any case, that will not be their intention; Lady Arden is of no use to them except to bargain with Drake. At least, I must hope that is true.
I quicken my pace as I reach the open ground of the headland. A sharp salt breeze chafes at my face. The air carries the promise of rain. Ahead, the castle looms on the promontory, its four round towers planted like sentries, keeping watch out to sea and over the harbour mouth.
I follow the path that skirts the walls of the castle on the seaward side, but there is no sign of a woman alone. A few people are out walking, though most hurry purposefully with packs or baskets, shawls or caps pulled tight against the wind. I make my way between the scrubby trees, searching to either side, until I emerge to the east of the castle, where a footpath runs down to a row of houses that line the harbour wall. Directly ahead of me is a kind of gatehouse, built around an archway with three exits. One, to my right, leads out to another path that runs along the edge of the Hoe, at the top of the cliffs where Jonas must have been pushed to his death. The archway to the left leads out to the road around the harbour, and the one straight ahead opens on to a steep flight of stone steps down to the water, where iron rings are set into the wall for mooring. I take the first couple of steps, but there are no boats tied up. I turn instead to the right, out towards the Hoe. The gatehouse gives on to a square battery jutting out into the harbour, with four cannon arrayed along it. A bored young man wearing the town livery and holding a pikestaff stands by the wall, keeping a cursory watch out to sea. A scrawny dog sits by his feet.
‘Have you seen anyone come by here?’ I ask him, urgently.
‘Have I seen anyone?’ He screws up his face and looks at me. ‘Like who?’
‘I’m looking for a woman.’
‘En’t we all.’
I make an impatient noise. ‘Have you seen a woman come by here, on her own? Well dressed? She might have met a man, or two men. Somewhere near here, by the castle?’
‘I’m paid to watch out there,’ he says, pointing to the bay. ‘I en’t got time to be worrying about who’s meeting who behind me. There’s guards on the castle walls, ask them.’
‘This woman might have been kidnapped,’ I say, my eyes still darting about at any sign of movement on the path. The soldier’s face registers a flicker of interest at this news.
‘Really? What, here?’
‘You haven’t seen anyone get into a boat here? Or walk off that way, along the cliff?’
He considers the question. ‘There’ve been boats coming and going by the steps. Now I think of it – there was a group got into a small boat a while back. One of them might have been a woman, but they had cloaks on so you couldn’t exactly see. I only took notice because they was completely silent. All of them – never spoke a word to one another. Two of them kept very close, like they was almost joined together. The third was waiting in the boat, he was at the oars.’ He shakes his head. ‘I didn’t really pay them any mind though. It wasn’t anything too far out of the ordinary.’
‘But did you see where they went?’ My thoughts are racing ahead, a dozen terrible tableaux forming one after another in quick succession in my mind’s eye.
‘Out there,’ he says, pointing vaguely at the ships rocking at anchor in the Sound. I follow the direction of his finger. The majestic ships of Drake’s fleet dominate the horizon, pennants snapping in the wind. Among them, smaller merchantmen showing the colours of France, the Netherlands or the Baltic states and between all these great hulls, the rowing boats bob back and forth, ferrying men and goods in and out of the harbour, the lifeline between the big ships and the town. This boat the soldier saw could be anywhere by now – if it was even them.
‘Keep your eyes open, will you? In case you should see those men again, or anything unusual. One of them has no ears – if you see him, apprehend him at once.’
The youth looks amused. ‘Who do you think you are, Spaniard – my commanding officer?’
‘A woman’s life could be in danger. A wealthy woman,’ I add, and he registers this with interest, calculating the potential advantage to helping. ‘You can get word to me at the Star on Nutt Street. Ask for the Italian,’ I say, over my shoulder.
I cast a last glance at the bay under its swiftly moving canopy of clouds. The gulls scream and circle ceaselessly around the ships. There is nothing I can usefully do here on my own, with no idea even of which direction to pursue them. My best course of action is to return to the Star and find Drake; with all the companies of armed men at his command, he will surely be able to organise search parties along the roads and out into the Sound. But they will have to hurry, I think, as I step back into the shadow of the gatehouse; if Jenkes and Doughty have taken Lady Arden by boat, they could easily have reached one of the ships by now. Who knows what contacts they might have on these merchant vessels – they could be out into the English Sea by dusk, and Drake would surely need some greater authority than his own name to board and search foreign vessels.
I pause by the archway that leads to the water stairs, peering out at the harbour, my chest constricted with guilt over Lady Arden. I am about to take the path back up past the castle when I notice something white on the floor in the corner. Bending closer, I see that it is a piece of paper, balled up, as if it has been tossed aside by someone coming in or out. I crouch by the top of the stairs and unfold it; as my eyes skim the neat, sloping hand to the bottom of the page, a chill washes over me. The signature is my own.
Except that, of course, it is not: the letter is signed in my name, and ripe with full-throated declarations of passion. It begins ‘Carissima’ and asks the recipient to meet me by the castle gatehouse, where I would have a surprise for her. Gesu Cristo. She would have been surprised all right, to find – what? Rowland Jenkes with a knife, I imagine; it would have been a simple matter to press a blade to her ribs from under the cover of a cloak, without anyone noticing. To make her walk the short distance to the river stairs, keeping as close as a lover, the point still pressed against her skin, and force her into a boat. Why did she not scream for help? I did not understand that – but she must have dropped the letter before she was made to walk down the steps to the water, in the hope that someone would find it and make the connection. Carissima. Dear God – and she believed I wrote this. Are women so easily deceived by a little gilded flattery? I crumple it in my fist, my face burning with anger; I feel implicated, as if the blame is partly mine as Lady Drake said. If I had not gone to Lady Arden’s room last night, if I had not been seen, I would not have handed them a weakness to exploit. If
that damned maid had not been so greedy for a few pennies . . . But this game of what if achieves nothing.
Despite the pain in my ribs, I run the distance back to the Star, the letter clutched in my fist. I can only cling to the hope that Lady Arden will be safe until Doughty and Jenkes can play her as their trump card against Drake. The next move will be his to make.
Mistress Judith is waiting for me in the entrance hall and is upon me almost before I am in the door. ‘Sir Francis wants you.’ She clutches at my sleeve. ‘He is in his wife’s chamber, with others of his men. I have the sense something bad has happened, but no one will tell me anything. Nothing concerning the inn, I hope?’
‘Nothing for you to worry about, mistress,’ I say, but I can see that my distracted manner and drawn face do not reassure her.
It is Thomas Drake who opens the door to me, his expression forbidding. Without a word he gestures me inside. Lady Drake is folded into a window seat, a handkerchief pressed to her mouth. She springs up as I enter, her eyes questioning. I answer with a taut shake of my head and fresh tears well up and spill down her cheeks as she sinks back down.
‘You found nothing, I suppose?’ Drake stands by the fireplace. His mouth is set in a grim line. To his left, Carleill and Sidney sit at the writing table, as if waiting to take dictation.
I hand Drake the crumpled letter. ‘I found this down by the gatehouse to the castle steps.’
He runs his eyes over it and looks up at me, accusing.
‘I did not write it,’ I feel compelled to say. Still he holds me in that long, level stare.
‘Even so,’ he says eventually, ‘someone must have known that such a message would have the desired effect.’
I look at the floor. ‘The maid here has been spying on us – all of us – since we first arrived. I believe she is being paid by Jenkes the book dealer and John Doughty.’
Drake’s jaw tightens. ‘Get her in here. Thomas, go and find her.’ He turns back to me as his brother slips out. ‘The castle steps, you say? So you think they have taken a boat?’
‘That is my guess. A soldier on the battery there thought he saw a man and a woman boarding a small boat, rowed by a second man. She must have dropped the letter in the hope that someone would see it.’
‘Or else it is a trick on their part, to distract us.’ He rubs his beard. ‘Carleill, I still want men sent out by land to search. A party on every road out of the town. And if they have left by water, they will not have got far in a small boat. The Sound is full of my ships – we will question all those keeping watch, and on the foreign merchantmen too. Someone must have seen them if they boarded a ship.’ He snaps his head around at a stifled sob from Lady Drake. ‘Do not disturb yourself, my dear. We will find her safe and well, I promise.’
Privately I think this promise may be a little rash, but I say nothing. The door opens and Thomas marches Hetty in with a tight grip on her arm. She pulls away from him with a black look, but her face is puffy. Despite such intimidating company, she still struggles to keep up her defiant manner.
‘Let me go! I en’t done nothing,’ she says, addressing Drake. ‘I know no more’n I told him.’ She points at me.
He crosses to her with one stride and stands very close, bearing down on her. I can imagine grown men quaking before that glare, but Hetty merely stares back.
‘Those men you have been working for – where are they?’ he barks.
‘I don’t know. He only ever gave me letters to deliver. He didn’t tell me all their comings and goings.’
‘Well, we shall soon see if you are telling the truth,’ Drake says, as if it doesn’t matter to him either way. ‘I shall have your room and your belongings searched. Any money you had from them, you earned by abetting kidnappers. I’m sure you know the penalty for such a crime and I shall personally see that you are arrested for it if there is anything you are keeping back that could help to find Lady Arden. So if you want to save yourself, you’d better start talking, girl. Thomas, ask Mistress Judith to come here, would you?’
‘No!’
Thomas Drake already has the door open when Hetty’s strangled cry stops him. He closes it softly. Everyone is looking at her. A sob rises in her throat and slowly she reaches into her apron. When she draws her hand out, holding another folded and sealed letter, it is clear that she is shaking.
‘This is meant for you, sir.’ She holds it out to Drake, her eyes downcast, her voice no more than a whisper. ‘The man with no ears – he said I was to give it you at sunset. No earlier. And if I broke my word, he would send someone to kill me in my bed. The way he said it, sir – I didn’t doubt he meant it. He has these blue eyes that would burn you up, like the Devil, sir, and he speaks like icy water down your back.’ She shivers and two fat tears roll down her cheeks. For all Hetty’s posturing, this fear looks genuine. It is a striking description of Rowland Jenkes.
‘All right.’ Drake takes the letter and breaks the seal. He reads it in silence. We all watch as his face grows slowly darker. A muscle jumps in his cheek. For a long time he does not speak. Then he looks back to Hetty. ‘Is he expecting you to take a reply?’
She shakes her head. ‘No, sir. He said that was the last one for now. That was why it was important you didn’t have it too early.’
He nods. ‘Get back to your business. I shall tell Mistress Judith you are to be watched at every turn. If he gets in touch with you again, by any means, you come straight to me. Understood?’
Hetty nods; when Drake turns away, she scurries to the door.
‘Wait!’ Drake calls, as she is about to open it, and she jumps as if she has been stung. ‘That letter you left under the door of this chamber last night – who did that come from? Not the same man, surely?’
Confusion chases across her swollen face.
‘What letter?’
Drake takes a step closer, his jaw set tight, and she cowers against the door.
‘Addressed to me. Come now – you will do yourself no favours. Who sent the letter last night?’
‘I – I don’t know what letter you mean, sir,’ she says, looking genuinely fearful. ‘I never left no letter at this room last night, I swear it. Only the one this morning.’
‘God help you if you are lying, child,’ Drake begins, and she shakes her head frantically.
‘I’m not, sir, it’s God’s honest truth. If you had a letter last night, it didn’t come by my hand.’
Drake clicks his tongue. ‘Get out. What would you know of God’s truth?’ He makes an impatient gesture with his hand, like someone shooing away a dog; Hetty is out of the door in an instant. I have never seen her move so fast.
‘That girl should be under lock and key, brother,’ Thomas says, anger in his voice. ‘Even now she is not telling all.’
‘That is precisely why it would not help to lock her up,’ Drake replies. ‘These men may use her to make contact again. She is an easy conduit to me. If they do, we will have a better chance of finding them.’
Carleill gives a discreet cough. ‘The letter, sir?’
Drake holds it at arm’s length. ‘Listen to this.’
My dear Captain Drake
Fair exchange is no robbery, as people like to say. One item of value in exchange for another. You have something of value to us, and vice versa. Bring it to the chapel on St Nicholas Island after sundown and we will make an exchange I believe will be satisfactory to both parties. Do not be deceived, Captain Drake – I speak of a fair deal. You are to come alone, without your armed men, carrying only the Coptic book. Moor your boat at the northern jetty and approach by the path that leads up the cliff. If you do not abide by these conditions, I fear it will be too late to effect any exchange.
I look forward to our transaction.
He pauses, sucks in his cheeks, looks around the room.
‘Is it signed?’ Carleill asks.
‘No. But we hardly need doubt who wrote it. This book dealer with no ears, Devil take him.’
‘Well,
you shall not go,’ Thomas says, as if the decision rests with him. ‘Anyone can see it is a trap. Does he really think you would be such a fool?’ He snorts in disdain. Drake passes a hand across his brow, frowning.
‘Too late for an exchange means he will kill her if you do not do as he says, does it not?’ Lady Drake asks, from the window, fighting to keep her voice steady.
‘Noisy threats only, my dear,’ her husband says. ‘He would not harm her – she is all he has to bargain with.’ He does not sound as if he believes this.
‘Let us not forget there are two of them,’ I say. ‘They have devised this between them. Jenkes will get the book he covets, and John Doughty will get you, Sir Francis, alone and unarmed, where you cannot escape.’
‘Except that it is they who will be undefended,’ Thomas says, animated. ‘We have a fleet full of armed men at our disposal – why do we not simply surround the island, now that we know where they are, and blast the devils out?’
‘Because they would kill Lady Arden, fool,’ says Lady Drake. ‘Either those men will, or your soldiers. Francis would never risk her life.’
‘Sometimes there must be casualties in any conflict, my lady,’ Thomas replies, turning to her.
‘Casualties?’ Lady Drake stands, indignant. ‘What war are you fighting, Thomas Drake, against a book dealer and a traitor who has long carried a grudge against my husband? You think a woman’s life a fair price to pay for such a victory?’
‘My lady, John Doughty will not rest until your husband – my brother – is dead,’ Thomas says, trying to keep his tone respectful. ‘Would you have Sir Francis walk willingly to his execution? Because know this, my lady – they will not hand back your cousin, and I’m afraid you are the fool if you believe they would ever keep to such a deal. They will simply kill them both. Better we take the island by force—’
Lady Drake chokes down a sob.
‘Peace, both of you, I cannot think,’ Drake says, holding up a hand for silence. ‘There is only one landing stage on the island,’ he continues, as his wife and brother glare at one another, ‘and that is the one facing the Hoe. The Sound is full of my ships – how do they imagine they will escape, even supposing they keep their word? Do they not think my guns would fire on them before they had even cast off? They must have some other plan.’
