by Ann Swinfen
I looked at my burnt and blistered palm clinically, as if it belonged to someone else, one of my patients. I tried to struggle to my feet, but Phelippes pressed down on my shoulder.
‘Stay there,’ he said. ‘I will see to it.’
I wish I could have seen Phelippes in that immaculate kitchen. I do not imagine he had ever separated an egg in his life. It must have taken him several attempts. Too tired to tell him the amounts, or how to work the ingredients together, I continued to sit on the ground, leaning back against the trough with my eyes closed. As water began to soak through my breeches and hose, I realised I must have splashed a good deal of it on to the ground. I supported my left wrist in my sound right hand as if it were a fragile piece of glass. If my hand were to be permanently damaged, I would not be able to continue to practice as a physician.
Someone touched me lightly on the shoulder and I opened my eyes to see Phelippes anxiously holding out a fine porcelain bowl toward me. Something else Drake must have looted on one of his voyages and much too fine to use for mixing up a paste for burns. I hoped Phelippes had not broken anything.
‘Will this do?’ He held out the bowl to me.
‘Thank you. Egg white, honey and grease?’
‘Aye. I found some bacon grease, will that do?’
‘Fine,’ I said. Though I will not eat pig, I have no objection to its medical uses.
I balanced the bowl on my knees. The mixture looked as it should, so I scooped some up and spread it over my burned and blistered palm. Despite my best efforts, I gasped at the pain.
‘Does it not soothe the burn?’ Phelippes was frowning worriedly.
‘It will in the end. Just touching it at the moment hurts. Thank you again. I do not think I could have done it myself, with only one hand.’
I got up slowly, still feeling somewhat dizzy.
‘What is happening?’ I asked. ‘Has Borecroft told you anything of use?’
‘Aye, he has told us where the soldiers are lying low. He can’t talk fast enough. He’s terrified of them and terrified of us. We’ll have no trouble with him. Nick has sent one of his men to rouse the constables and another to fetch the militia. They will surround the house, and also the house of the merchant di Firenze. We should soon have them all in hold.’
‘And what about Poley?’
He shook his head.
‘Borecroft does not know what has become of Poley.’
I have only a confused recollection of the next few hours. Somehow we were back at Seething Lane and I was sitting by a hastily lit fire in Phelippes’s office, shivering in my wet clothes. Phelippes had offered me a change, but I had, of necessity, refused. I could hardly strip in front of him.
‘I will dry out by the fire.’
I remembered saying that.
Sir Francis came in, followed by a servant with a flagon of the rich red wine he obtained from France. Then a maid servant, hurriedly and untidily dressed, brought bread and cheese. I was glad of the wine, for it helped a little with the cold which had seized me, which I knew was the effect of shock. I did not think I could eat anything, but when Sir Francis himself set down a plate of bread and cheese beside me, I found I was hungry after all. When I had finished both wine and food, I looked around.
‘Where is Nick?’
‘Dealing with Borecroft,’ Sir Francis said.
‘I hope he will not deal too harshly with him,’ I said. ‘I think he was merely a tool of other people, forced to act by their hold over him.’
Phelippes looked grim. ‘You can thank him for that burned hand of yours.’
‘They do not need to deal harshly with him, to get him to talk,’ Sir Francis said, with a short bark of laughter. ‘The difficulty will be to stop him talking. When I looked in he was telling them everything he knew.’
‘He’s here?’ I said. ‘In this house?’ I remembered that, back at the time of the Babington conspiracy, Walsingham had made arrangements to interrogate some of the men involved here at Seething Lane.
‘Who is questioning him?’
‘Berden and one of the sheriffs, Richard Saltenstall,’ Phelippes said. ‘I stayed for a while myself, but they have it in hand. Francis Mylles is acting as clerk. We want to keep the whole affair as quiet as possible. No need to start a panic.’
I wondered how it would be possible to keep it quiet, when all the inhabitants of Dowgate must know about the attempted explosion, even if they knew nothing else.
‘Have the renegade soldiers been rounded up? And the Italians?’
‘Aye, we have the soldiers held in Newgate,’ Phelippes said. ‘The Italians are more difficult.’
‘But why? We already knew where they were.’
Sir Francis answered me. ‘Giancarlo di Firenze is refusing to let the constables enter his property. He has powerful friends on the Common Council and has appealed for protection to the Italian ambassador. We may have trouble there, but I hope we may arrest them in the end.’
‘Do you think that was all the gunpowder the soldiers had?’ I asked. ‘The gunpowder that was in the puppet? There is not any more that could still be used?’
‘Berden and his men searched their lodging house very thoroughly,’ Phelippes said. ‘That seems to have been all of it.’
‘It would have caused a terrible explosion,’ Sir Francis said seriously, ‘had you not prevented it. Many lives lost. Homes destroyed.’
‘I wonder,’ I said. ‘Borecroft had placed it in a far corner of a stone built cellar. It would certainly have caused damage, but not nearly as much as it would have if he had left it in the middle of the house. I suspect he was trying to minimise the harm done. He was probably told to cause the maximum damage. Putting the puppet in the cellar was the only way he could do what he was forced to do, while hoping for the least hurt.’
‘You may be right,’ Sir Francis said.
‘I hope that will be remembered when he is punished.’
Of course he would be punished. It was an act of terror and violence, even if it had been carried out unwillingly. I could not get out of my mind the contrast between the cheerful impish toy man of the Fair and the gibbering wreck in Dowgate. The thought that he might receive the savage sentence of being hanged, drawn and quartered sickened me.
‘I have sent a message to the inn at Westminster where Drake’s party have been spending the night,’ Sir Francis said. ‘I wanted him to have an accurate account of what happened before he reached home and heard some garbled version from the servants.’
Phelippes nodded his agreement. ‘They only witnessed the aftermath,’ he said.
I was too tired to care.
Not long after this, the sun rose and Phelippes extinguished the candles. Though I had refused dry clothes, I was anxious to go back to Wood Street and change.
‘Am I needed any longer?’ I asked.
‘Nay,’ Sir Francis said. ‘Go home and rest, and look after that hand of yours. I do not want to see you here again until it is recovered.’
‘You’d best take this,’ Phelippes said, holding something out.
It was the porcelain bowl with the rest of the salve in it.
‘That is Sir Francis Drake’s property,’ I said. ‘It is the sort of valuable piece the spice traders sometimes bring back. Ruy Lopez has one that he treasures. They come from China. I cannot take that.’
‘Take it, Kit,’ Sir Francis said. ‘You have saved Drake a great deal more than one little bowl. And I shall tell him so.’
Thus it was that I arrived back at the Lopez house on stumbling feet, wet through, barely able to keep my satchel from sliding off my shoulder, and carrying in my good hand a bowl that was probably worth more than my entire year’s salary would be from St Thomas’s.
Sara took one look at me and sent me to bed. She arrived in my room shortly after I was under the covers, carrying a hot stone wrapped in a piece of old blanket for my feet and a cup of brandy posset like the one I had seen Sir Francis eating at Barn Elms. She was followe
d into the room by the insinuating shape of Rikki. As soon as the door closed behind Sara, Rikki jumped up on the bed, licked my nose and settled himself comfortably at my side.
When I had finished the posset I slid down into the bed and put an arm over Rikki’s warm, shaggy side. To my shame, tears started up in my eyes, for my mind kept playing over and over that moment in the cellar when I had stared at the lit fuse and the grotesque puppet staring back up at me. Besides, my hand was very painful.
By the time I next woke, it was dark. I must have slept for the entire day. Rikki was asleep, but I realised that I had heard a light tap on the door.
‘Aye?’ I called.
Anne put her head round the edge of the door.
‘Good, you are awake. Mama is going to send you some supper to have in bed.’
She came across and rubbed Rikki behind the ears.
‘How bad is your hand?’
I held out my left hand, palm up, for her to see, and she gave a gasp.
‘Oh, Kit, that looks terrible!’
‘It was treated quickly,’ I said, ‘and I have healthy skin. I think it will heal. Would you pass me that bowl? I’ll salve it again.’
She picked up the bowl and sniffed it. ‘It smells very odd. Almost like something you might eat, though I’m not sure I would like it.’
I laughed, and tried not to wince as I spread a fresh layer on my hand. ‘Egg white, honey and bacon grease.’
‘Ugh!’ she said.
Rikki must have smelled the bacon grease, for he woke and became very interested first in the bowl, then in my hand, so that I had to push him gently away.
‘I’ll see that your supper is sent up,’ Anne said. ‘Will you be able to manage?’
‘As long as I do not need to cut anything up,’ I said.
‘I will tell them.’
For the next three days the family treated me as an invalid, though I was out of bed the next morning. It was time for Anthony to return to school, so Ruy rode with him down to Winchester, and we were a house full of women, though we might not appear so. Then a summons came from Sir Francis. I was to present myself at Seething Lane at two o’ the clock the next day.
‘Wear your physician’s gown,’ the note said cryptically. ‘I hope your hand is healing.’
When I presented myself at Sir Francis’s office at the appointed time, I found with him not only Phelippes but a familiar figure I had not seen since our arrival in Plymouth all those months ago.
‘My lord,’ I said, bowing deeply to Sir Francis Drake. Had he come to ask for the return of his valuable bowl? It was sitting on a joint stool beside my bed now, washed clean.
‘Dr Alvarez.’ He inclined his head slightly. ‘I remember how you and Dr Nuñez laboured to save Norreys’s brother at Coruña.’
‘Do you know how he fares, sir?’
‘Quite recovered now, I understand.’
I lifted my eyes and looked Drake fully in the face for the first time.
How to regard such a man? Undoubtedly a gifted seaman, probably one of the best then living. A man who had risen entirely through his own efforts from very humble beginnings to become perhaps the richest man in England. An intrepid adventurer and implacable enemy of the Spanish. A favourite of the Queen, whose exploits filled her coffers with treasure and humiliated her foes. In the eyes of many, England’s greatest hero.
Yet he could act with tremendous cruelty, not only to his enemies but to his own men and his officers. He would brook no criticism, listen to no advice. He was also a lying, treacherous brute.
I kept my eyes steady on his, but it took some effort.
‘I see you are a bold fellow, Dr Alvarez,’ he said, with a sharp laugh, quickly cut off. ‘As Walsingham here tells me you are. Let me see your hand.’
I held out my left hand. It was bandaged now.
‘Take off the bandages.’
I glanced to one side at Sir Francis, who gave the merest of nods, so with some difficulty I unwound the bandage. I would need help to replace it. My palm was still an unpleasant sight. The blisters from the burn had burst and some were oozing a yellow pus, which clung to the bandage. Removing it was painful, but I would not cry out before this man who would not tolerate weakness.
Drake seized my wrist and examined my hand. Only then did he smile and relax.
‘Well, Dr Alvarez, it seems I am greatly in your debt. I understand that it was you who first discovered this conspiracy and later it was you who carried the gunpowder out of my house before it could explode. It was a brave action. Braver than I would have expected from a civilian, and a young one at that.’ There was a note of contempt in his voice, in spite of his praise.
I bowed, unable to think of anything to say.
‘I believe in rewarding bravery. Hold out your other hand. I hope you are right handed?’
‘I am, sir,’ I said, somewhat baffled by this.
He reached into the breast of his doublet and drew out something which he dropped into my hand. I barely caught it before it slipped to the ground. It was a heavy purse of coin. I took an involuntary step backward and opened my mouth to refuse, but I caught Sir Francis’s eye. He gave me a warning look and shook his head, fortunately out of the line of Drake’s sight.
‘I, I thank you, sir,’ I stumbled out the words, ‘but there is no need . . .’
He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. ‘The matter is finished. And the details, I am sure you understand, are not to be made public.’
I flushed. Was I being bribed to keep my mouth shut? I wanted to shout out to this arrogant, untrustworthy man, than he had no right to speak to me in that tone, but who was I, a humble Marrano physician, to answer back to one of Her Majesty’s courtiers?
‘Come, Kit,’ Phelippes said, springing to my rescue and speaking for the first time. He had probably read the expression on my face correctly. ‘I have a new cipher I want you to look at.’
We both bowed ourselves out and walked along the corridor without speaking. Once inside Phelippes office, I let out my breath like a minor explosion in itself.
‘That man!’ I said. ‘That man, who betrayed us! When I remember all the men who died on the voyage back from Portugal . . .’
‘Sit down, Kit,’ Phelippes said, ‘and let me help you put that bandage back.’
‘You are become quite the physician,’ I said, doing as I was told. ‘He thought I was a fraud, even though Sir Francis, our Sir Francis, told him otherwise.’
‘He is not worth you anger, Kit.’
He made quite a neat job of fixing my bandage back in place.
‘Where is this cipher you want me to look at?’
‘There is no cipher. I thought I should get you away before you exploded and we were all in trouble.’
I laughed weakly. ‘Ever the diplomat. But I cannot accept his money, like some grubby fawning servant. He was trying to bribe me, as if I would babble!’
‘You cannot refuse it. Do you not see that? What would be the consequences? Take it and rest content. Did you not say that you needed money to buy your own physician’s cap and gown, so you need not wear those borrowed from Ruy Lopez? Spend it on that.’
‘Aye,’ I agreed reluctantly. ‘I do need them before I start at St Thomas’s.’
I looked at him suddenly in alarm. ‘Jesu, I’ve forgotten the date, with spending time in bed and mooning about the house! What is the date?’
‘The ninth of September.’
I took off my cap and ran my hand through my hair, breathing a sigh of relief.
‘I thought I had missed it. I am to report at St Thomas’s on the twelfth of September. Three days still from now.’
I looked down at my bandaged hand.
‘If they will have me.’
Chapter Sixteen
I took Phelippes’s advice. There was a great deal of money in the purse, though perhaps not quite as much as the value of the porcelain bowl. Sir Francis was sure no questions would be asked about that, and if the
re should be, he assured me that he would deal with it. I took the purse to one of the best robe-makers with premises near the Royal College of Physicians and demanded that he have both gown and cap ready for me by the eleventh of September. I handed over the buttons I had bought at the Fair. I must have impressed him, for he scrambled to finished the work in time.
Ever since facing up to Drake, despite not following my inclination to refuse the money, I had a new sense of confidence. My suspicions, first aroused at the Fair, had been proved right. I had been taken seriously by Sir Francis, Phelippes and Berden, all of them men I greatly respected. By acting on those suspicions, however confused and baffled we had been, we had prevented a disaster. I was beginning to feel that I had earned my place within that inner group. My only worry now was that the deputy superintendent at St Thomas’s would take one look at my injured hand and refuse me my position there. My hand was getting slowly better, but it would not be fully healed before I had to report for duty.
While I waited for my gown to be finished, I decided to pay a call on William Baker and his wife, to discover how Adam Batecorte was faring. I had already sent a message to ask whether his injuries were healing and had received a reassuring answer, but I would be happier if I could see him for myself.
I had now learned more details of what had happened in the action against the soldiers who had marched against the Fair all the way from Plymouth on their blistered and bleeding feet, the men who had waited quietly for justice, encamped in Finsbury Fields. I felt that Adam should be told all that I now knew.
The Bakers welcomed me into their shop in Eastcheap, for once quiet and empty of customers. Liza was sitting close to the window, stitching the upper of a lady’s elegant dance shoe to the sole, while Adam was carefully drawing round a pattern on to calf skin with a piece of chalk, watched by William..
‘Excellent! We will have Adam a shoemaker before we are done,’ William said cheerfully. ‘He’s very neat fingered. He’s a born craftsman.’
Adam grinned and shook his head.
