The Hanging Sword is expensive, I continued, but I could help you look for cheaper lodgings elsewhere while you give some thought to what you are going to do. You might find it difficult to remain as a boy indefinitely, but perhaps
I stopped when I saw the look on her face. She had halted abruptly in the middle of the street and was staring at me, her brow knotted in confusion.
Bruno have you not understood any of my story? Why do you think I came all this way to seek you out?
Because I faltered. Had I misunderstood? She was looking at me as a governess might look at a child who has failed to absorb anything of his lesson, despite hours at the same exercise. I presumed because you had few people left whose friendship you could rely on, in the circumstances, I said, a little stiffly.
Well, that is true, she said, impatient. But I remembered how you unravelled those murders in Oxford, when no one else seemed to have the slightest idea who was behind them. Thats why I wanted your help. I need you to find out who murdered my husband and clear my name. I dont want to live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, wondering when they will come for me.
No, you dont, I said, with feeling, though I could not believe she was seriously asking this of me. She clutched at my sleeve then, and made me look her in the eye, her face close to mine. I could hear the urgency in her voice.
If you dont help me, Bruno, I shall live as a wanted murderess all my life, and if they find me Ill be straight for the pyre. You know thats the punishment for women who murder their husbands? Because the man is master of his wife, its regarded as an act of treason. So instead of hanging, they burn you.
Like a heretic, I said, softly.
Like a heretic. She fixed me with a meaningful look.
I stepped back, rubbing my hand across the growth of stubble on my chin and shaking my head.
You want me to go to Canterbury and find the killer?
If you could do it in Oxford, why not in Canterbury? She sounded petulant, and I was reminded, despite her weight of experience, how young she still was.
Its not quite as simple as that. I cant just take off across the country I would need permission But as I considered the possibility, I felt my blood quicken with the prospect of it: a change of scene, a new challenge, and the ultimate prize of freeing Sophia from a sentence of death.
Permission? She looked scornful.
From the Ambassador. As a member of his household, out of courtesy I must consult with him before I go anywhere. And with the diplomatic situation so fraught at the moment, he may be reluctant to let me leave. But it was not the Ambassadors permission I was concerned about. I sincerely doubted whether my real employer would want me away from the embassy at such a time.
You are not the Ambassadors ward, Bruno. You are a grown man, or so I thought. Well, it doesnt matter, then. She wrapped her arms tightly around her chest and started walking briskly away towards the narrow bridge; I watched her for a moment, before hurrying to catch her up.
Wait! I had to work hard to match her determined stride, but on the bridge I caught her by the sleeve. I have said I will help you, and I meant it. I will see if this can be arranged. But it will be difficult I would have no authority to undertake an investigation of any kind in Canterbury, and you said yourself how they are suspicious of foreigners there.
You could pretend to be a visiting scholar, she said brightly. They have a fine library in the cathedral precincts, I am told. Please, Bruno? You are all the hope I have now. Her eyes widened, and the pleading in them was in earnest. If you dont help me, no one will.
She looked down at her boots, shamed by her own helplessness; Sophia, whose independent spirit chafed at being beholden to a man, any man. She kicked at a small stone, her arms wrapped again around her chest, as if to protect herself from further hurt. It was a gesture that clutched at my heart, and I knew that, whatever the obstacles, I must find a way to help her. If nothing else, it would assuage the lingering sense of guilt that still needled me over my actions in Oxford, and the fear that I had somehow been the indirect cause of everything that had happened to her since. I owed her a debt, I believed, and she had counted on my conscience.
Very well then. Santa Maria! I grabbed at my hair with both hands in a gesture of mock exasperation that made her laugh. You would wear down a stone, Sophia. But what will you do, if I get myself to Canterbury?
I will come with you, of course. She looked nonplussed.
What? And how are you going to do that? You are wanted for murder.
I wouldnt venture into the city, obviously. I will stay as a boy, and you can say I am your apprentice.
Travelling scholars dont have apprentices.
Your scribe, then. Or servant, it doesnt matter. But you will need me there, Bruno, to point you in the right direction I know the city and I can direct you to Sir Edwards associates. We could find lodgings somewhere on the edge of town. I could keep out of sight.
Her face was animated now, her eyes bright and eager. We could find lodgings? Was she proposing that we share rooms together? I looked at her doubtfully, but I could find no trace of teasing in her eyes, only earnest hope. Perhaps she believed her disguise was good enough to convince both of us that she really was a boy. Was that the kind of friendship she envisaged between us, despite the fact that in Oxford I had once been so bold as to kiss her, and she had responded? I wished I had a better sense of how she regarded me.
It would be an enormous risk for her, returning to the city where, even with her cropped hair and dirty clothes, there was every chance of being recognised as the murdered magistrates wife. On the other hand, she was right: I would fare better with someone to guide me around the city of Canterbury, and what would she do otherwise in London, alone and friendless as her money rapidly ran out? At least if she came with me I could do my best to take care of her and the thought of spending days in her company, reviving the conversations we had enjoyed in Oxford, was more than I had dared to hope for, even if, for now, she saw me only as a trusted friend. Until that morning, I had thought she was dead to me, and I knew that I could not abandon her to circumstance again.
Let me see if I can make arrangements, I said.
Good. But we must leave soon. Because of the assizes.
The assizes?
Yes. Once a quarter a judge comes from London to try all the criminals taken since the last session, the cases too serious for the local Justice. The next one is due in early August. If you were to find the real killer by then, he could be tried at the assizes and I would be free.
You dont ask much, do you?
Outside the Hanging Sword, we parted company, I assuring her that I would secure permission from the Ambassador as soon as possible, and warning her in the meantime to keep her money close about her person and not to walk around the streets of London after dark.
But I have this, she said, pulling aside the front of her jerkin to reveal a small knife buckled to her belt.
That will come in very handy if you should need to peel an apple. But I dont suggest you try your hand at any tavern brawls with it, I said.
You dont ask much, do you?
Outside the Hanging Sword, we parted company, I assuring her that I would secure permission from the Ambassador as soon as possible, and warning her in the meantime to keep her money close about her person and not to walk around the streets of London after dark.
But I have this, she said, pulling aside the front of her jerkin to reveal a small knife buckled to her belt.
That will come in very handy if you should need to peel an apple. But I dont suggest you try your hand at any tavern brawls with it, I said.
She smiled, and her face seemed more relaxed.
Id prefer not to.
We stood awkwardly for a moment, uncertain of how to say goodbye. Sophia seemed less stooped, less diminished, as if a weight had lifted from her. Thank you, Bruno, she said, checking in both directions to see that the street was empty before leaning in and giving me an impulsive hug. You are a true friend. One day I will find a way to repay you.
I could only blink and smile stupidly as she stepped back and turned away towards the tavern. I moved to cross the street towards Salisbury Court, wondering what on earth I had undertaken.
Ciao, Kit, I called, glancing over my shoulder to see her pause at the tavern door. She lifted a hand in farewell, then executed a mock bow.
She moves too much like a woman, I thought, watching the way she snaked her narrow hips to one side to avoid a man coming out as she slipped through the doorway. This Kit will need some lessons on being a man, if were not to be arrested. Before that, though, I needed to find a way to make this madcap plan palatable to the two men whose authority I must respect while I live in London: Michel de Castelnau, the French Ambassador, and Sir Francis Walsingham, Queen Elizabeths Principal Secretary. Both were certain to be opposed. I sighed. Sophia might imagine that a man enjoys the freedoms she lacks, but we are all beholden to somebody, in the great chain of patronage and favour that stretches right the way up to the Queen herself; and even she is not truly free, as long as she lives in fear of the assassin on the stairs, like the poor Prince of Orange.
THREE
Canterbury? Sir Francis Walsingham fairly spat the word across the room. What on earth for?
To travel, I said, lamely. I was thinking that I have been in England over a year now and I have seen so little of the country Walsingham gave me a long look and the words dried up. Since I had agreed to work secretly for Queen Elizabeths master of intelligence the previous spring I had become skilled at dissembling to everyone around me, but there was no point in lying to Walsingham. Those calm, steady eyes gave you the impression they could penetrate lead. Many a suspected conspirator against the Queen had cracked and confessed under that gaze before they were even shown the inside of the Tower of London, with its ingenious array of instruments to assist confession.
Pilgrimage, is it? Following the example of your patron? He raised a sardonic eyebrow and tapped the rolled-up letter I had brought from the French Ambassador Castelnau on the edge of his desk for emphasis.
Leaning against the mantelpiece, I shifted my weight from one foot to the other and avoided his eye.
Itll be a book, Sir Philip Sidney observed from his perch on the window seat, where he sat with one of his long legs bent up on the cushions, the other stretched out before him. He had barely aged since I first met him in Padua, I thought; especially when clean-shaven, as he was today, he could pass for nineteen, ten years younger than his true age, with his fair hair that always stuck up in a tuft at the front, no matter how he tried to tame it, and the bright blue eyes that lit up his handsome face whenever he sensed adventure. He was wearing only a lace-edged shirt with his breeches instead of the usual starched ruff that was the fashion among the young men at court, and without his stiff brocaded clothes he seemed less self-conscious. Bruno wouldnt rouse himself unless it was in pursuit of a book. He waited until I glanced up and gave me a broad wink.
Or a woman? Walsingham looked back to me and I could almost fancy a hint of amusement in the twitch of his mouth.
I understand the cathedral is very fine, I said.
The oldest in England, Sidney said. But I dont believe youve developed a sudden fascination for architecture, Bruno. Come on whats really tempting you to Canterbury?
I hesitated; Walsingham grew impatient.
Never mind the cathedral what are we going to do about this? He brandished the letter again, a shadow of irritation flitting across his face.
We were gathered in the Principal Secretarys private office at his country home in Barn Elms, some miles along the Thames to the west of the city of London. Since Sidney had married Walsinghams daughter the previous autumn, the young couple had lived at Barn Elms, Sidneys finances being too precarious to support a household of his own at present. From my point of view, the situation was ideal I could visit my friend and arrange meetings with Walsingham at the same time without arousing the French Ambassadors suspicions unduly, though I know it chafed at Sidney to be living in such close quarters with his in-laws.
Behind the wide oak desk, Walsingham sat back and folded his hands together, his gaze focused on the empty fireplace as if deep in thought. Despite the warmth of the day, he wore his customary suit of plain black wool and the small black skullcap that always made him look a little severe. His was a strong face, with wisdom and sadness written into its lines and the pouches beneath his eyes; there were moments when those eyes seemed to contain the weight of all the kingdoms strife. This was not far from the truth. Walsingham and the intelligence he gathered from his network of informers all over Europe were the Queens last defence against the myriad plots on her life and the security of England. At fifty-two, Walsinghams hair and beard were almost entirely grey now; only his black eyebrows served as a reminder of how he must have looked in his youth. Over the past year I had grown to respect this rational, sober man above any other, though I also feared him a little.
The letter that had so infuriated him contained a grovelling apology from Castelnau on behalf of King Henri of France, who said he could not receive Sidney as a guest in Paris as he was unfortunately about to go on a pilgrimage to Lyon.
Her Majesty will be livid, Sidney remarked. Im quite piqued about it myself I fancied a trip to Paris. He leaned back into the patch of sun that spilled through the diamond-paned glass and clasped his hands behind his head.
Walsingham frowned.
Henri of France is weak, though this is not news to us. He knew Her Majesty was not sending Sidney on a social call, but to persuade him to commit French troops to a joint intervention in the Netherlands. I suppose Castelnau thought we would be less likely to shout at you, Bruno?
I believe that was his reasoning, your honour.
Well, he can explain himself to the Queen face to face in due course. France cannot dither on the fence for much longer. He shook his head. This war against the Spanish in the Netherlands has been a bloody mess for the last twenty years, but the Queen is now seriously considering an offer of troops to help the Protestant rebels. If Henri had any conscience he would do the same. Especially since it was his idiot brother who made the situation a hundred times worse, he added, regarding me darkly from under his brows as if I were somehow implicated.