by S. J. Parris
‘Who is Sir Peter?’ asks Nell, letting go of my shoulder. It is the first time she has spoken since she emerged from the well shaft.
‘Sir Peter Edgecumbe,’ the man says. ‘These are his lands you’re trespassing on and his gamekeeper you’ve murdered, and rest assured you will swing for it. Both of you.’
‘Then we are in Mount Edgecumbe park?’ she says, with an incredulous laugh. ‘But I know Sir Peter Edgecumbe.’ She draws herself up, wincing, to her usual posture and tilts her chin. ‘I am Lady Eleanor Arden, widow of Sir Richard Arden of Beauchamp Hall in Somerset. My late husband was well acquainted with Sir Peter. Take me to him immediately – he will be able to help us.’
‘Oh, I’m sure you’re a fine lady all right, sweetheart.’ He points at me and laughs. ‘And who’s this – the fucking King of Cockaigne?’
Nell puts a hand on her hip. ‘This is the renowned Italian scholar Giordano Bruno.’
‘Oh, well that makes all the difference,’ says the bearded man, and his subordinates laugh openly. ‘Listen, you insolent strumpet. I lead Sir Peter’s household guard, and I have the power to arrest the both of you for trespass, poaching and murder. You don’t look like you’re in much of a state to put up a fight, but if you want one, we can oblige.’
She steps forward until she is no more than a foot away from him and pushes the shaft of his halberd to one side, eyes flashing defiance, her jaw set firm. He seems too surprised to stop her.
‘You listen, arrogant churl. I am the cousin of Lady Drake, and Doctor Bruno travels with Sir Philip Sidney, Master of the Queen’s Ordnance. Do you see this?’ She tilts her head back and points to her throat. ‘Yesterday I was taken captive by two wanted criminals who tried to hang me by the neck – the same men, by the way, who killed your gamekeeper and are quite possibly still at large on your master’s estate. Doctor Bruno rescued me. We have escaped death at least three times tonight and we are damned exhausted by it. Even now, Sir Francis Drake has his men out searching for us, and if he should find that we have suffered further ill-treatment, then by God, I swear you will answer to your master for it. Take us to the house this instant and let me speak to Sir Peter’s steward, if you will not take my word.’
The bearded man glances uneasily at his colleagues; clearly he fears she may be telling the truth. She has the bearing and the imperious tone that belong to the high-born, honed over a lifetime of expecting the world to obey you. I watch her with growing admiration. She turns to me and squeezes my hand, flashing a triumphant smile, despite all her pain and weariness. Sidney was right; she is a woman who is used to commanding. Jenkes and Doughty, with their threats of rape and murder, stripped the protection of rank from her; they reduced her to the unwelcome truth of her physical weakness and made her vulnerable. By asserting her status again over this guard, she can begin to repair the damage to her pride. It is impressive to watch her assume this hauteur as easily as slipping on a cloak.
‘Bring them up to the house then,’ the bearded man snaps at the others, turning away. Nell leans into me and I feel her body go slack with relief.
‘Everything will be all right now, Bruno,’ she says. ‘You’ll see.’
TWENTY-FOUR
‘You were fortunate that the household guard gave you the benefit of the doubt,’ Drake murmurs. He faces away from me, still looking out of the chamber window with his hands clasped behind his back. ‘He could have accused you of murder and thrown you in a cell right there. We might not have found you for days.’
‘Lady Arden is quite formidable when she decides to assert herself.’ I take another sip of wine.
‘I know it,’ Drake says, with a grimace.
‘We were fortunate too that Sir Peter Edgecumbe’s steward was accommodating. He woke his master in the middle of the night for two strangers who looked like vagabonds or cutpurses. Thank God Sir Peter recognised Lady Arden, in spite of everything.’
I close my eyes briefly, recalling what had followed. The cool ale to soothe our throats, warm water to bathe, maidservants to dress our wounds, the soft feather beds, the bread and meat in the morning and clean clothes given by Sir Peter and his wife, all of which Nell had promised to repay when she returned home. Drake’s men had finally landed on the island a couple of hours after we escaped, and valiantly followed us through the tunnel and out to Sir Peter Edgecumbe’s estate on the promontory facing Plymouth on the west side of the Sound. Sir Peter sent his own men to accompany me back to the town after I had broken my fast; Nell’s injuries were not as bad as I had feared, but she was weakened by shock and exhaustion and the effects of breathing so much smoke, and needed to rest before she could consider riding back. I had sustained some minor burns along my left arm and my eyes and throat were still dry and painful from the smoke, but when I considered the events of the night, I could only marvel that we had escaped with so little damage.
Drake observes me with curiosity for a while, then resumes his brisk manner. ‘In any case, God granted you His protection. But above all my wife’s cousin owes her life to your courage, Bruno. I am in your debt, and I will not forget it.’ He passes a hand across his beard. ‘And now that she is safe, I must decide what is to be done about the rest of this affair. Then perhaps I can get back to my fleet.’
He does not even try to disguise the impatience in his voice. This whole business with Jenkes and Doughty has been an inconvenient distraction for him – one that would not have come about if the fleet had not been delayed by Dunne’s death, or if Sidney and I had not turned up in Plymouth. I understand his feelings, but I suppose I had hoped for a slightly fuller expression of gratitude after the night’s ordeal. But Drake has a fleet of ships and hundreds of men dependent on his decisions, and he is keen to press on.
We are gathered in his chamber at the Star, the room once occupied by Lady Drake, who is now a guest of the Mayor and guarded by six of Drake’s stoutest soldiers. Sidney and I are shortly to dine with Dom Antonio and his attendants, but first Drake wants to brief me on all that has happened since I left for St Nicholas Island the night before.
‘My men and Sir Peter’s searched the entire estate last night and into the morning but found no trace of Jenkes or Doughty,’ he says, standing with his back to the fireplace. ‘I have sent out boats to board and search ships leaving the Sound, though I do not strictly have the authority to do this. But my guess is that they will have set out from further along the coast, in Cornwall. Perhaps they joined a ship from a different harbour. In any case, they have had a significant start.’
‘Rowland Jenkes has a great many contacts in France,’ I say. ‘He will have taken the book to Paris, no doubt, where there will be Vatican agents willing to pay dearly for it.’
Drake makes a dismissive gesture. ‘I care little for the book now. It angers me that this Jenkes should profit from it, naturally, but not so much that I am willing to devote men and resources to pursuing it. It seems a small price to pay, given that you and Lady Arden have escaped with your lives.’
I say nothing. The book is of no consequence to Drake because he is not a scholar and cannot imagine its significance; he regards it merely for how much coin it would fetch. I can think only of the fat, self-serving cardinals in Rome locking it away in some dark vault in the Vatican, burying its extraordinary revelation for ever. At least I still have my translation.
‘My concern,’ Drake continues, ‘is what has become of John Doughty. This business has not served his purpose at all, except to show me how near he can come to my family. And your report troubles me greatly. I have long suspected he would set his sights on Elizabeth, to hurt me where I am most vulnerable.’ He pulls at the point of his beard. ‘I have decided that she should go to her family in Somerset while I am at sea. When Lady Arden is well enough to travel, I will send them both back to Buckland with an armed guard to make their preparations. I think it best that Dom Antonio goes with them. Your men can accompany him, Sir Philip, and travel on to London from there. I cannot prepare f
or this expedition if I am worrying constantly about his safety and that of the women.’
Sidney looks up from his position by the window and nods. His armed men arrived this morning and he has lodged them at a hostelry outside the town walls out of his own pocket; the sooner they are on the road to London with Dom Antonio, or staying at Buckland Abbey at Drake’s expense, the better for him. I feel a pang at the thought of the women leaving; the prospect of remaining in Plymouth with my own plans still uncertain seems far less attractive in Nell’s absence.
‘At least we know that Doughty had nothing to do with Dunne’s death,’ I say. ‘I am certain he was telling the truth when he said he believed Dunne took his own life.’
Drake and Sidney exchange a glance.
‘We have some news there,’ Drake says.
Sidney crosses the room to lean on the mantel. ‘You have missed all the excitement,’ he says.
I look at him. ‘You are right – all the time I was tied up waiting for a barrel of gunpowder to blast my head off, and crawling through a tunnel under the sea and climbing a well shaft to be set upon by a pack of dogs and armed men, I was thinking to myself, how I wish I were not missing all the excitement.’
Drake smiles.
‘Savile has confessed,’ Sidney announces, with an expression that suggests he claims the credit.
‘Well – not quite,’ Drake says. ‘He has confessed to everything except the murder. That is our sticking point.’
‘Then – what has he confessed to?’ I look from one to the other, confused. ‘What happened?’
‘Sir Philip caught them in the act,’ Drake says. It is difficult to tell from his expression whether he approves of Sidney’s actions or not.
Sidney shrugs. ‘I did what I said we should do the other day. I had come back here yesterday evening to fetch some belongings for Lady Drake, while you were all occupied with the rescue attempt.’ His voice is light as he says this, but I hear the implicit reproach; I wonder if Drake does.
Sidney had embraced me with obvious relief when I returned to the Star, but the pleasure of seeing me alive seems to have been shortlived and quickly tarnished by his usual resentment at being left behind with the women and denied a chance to prove himself. He has not asked me anything about my experiences last night. I know him too well to be wounded by his apparent dismissal; all the same, I find I am gritting my teeth as he embarks on an account of his own heroics.
‘I happened to see Savile heading for the stairs to the second floor,’ he continues, with evident relish. ‘I took it upon myself to follow him. I thought if he was cornered and could no longer deny his relationship with Martha Dunne, he would be compelled to admit to the murder in the face of all the other evidence. The button, the nutmeg and so on.’
‘So you just walked into their bedchamber?’ I say, amazed.
‘Yes.’ He grins. ‘I gave them a little time to get warmed up. They had stationed that bovine maidservant outside the door to keep watch. She tried to tell me her mistress was indisposed. I said, I’m sure she is, and strode right past her. They hadn’t even locked the door.’ He shakes his head, as if he pitied anyone foolish enough to make such a simple mistake.
‘And you found them in media res?’
‘Not exactly. They were still clothed, thank God,’ he adds. ‘But I caught them in a close embrace – enough to make it difficult to explain away. I confronted them then and there with everything we had guessed about their affair and the pregnancy.’
‘That was dangerous,’ I say, and have the satisfaction of seeing Drake nod in vigorous agreement. ‘What was to stop them simply denying it all?’
‘They did at first. At least, she did.’ He makes a face. ‘That woman is hard as flint. God knows what Savile sees in her.’
‘The prospect of her imminent inheritance, perhaps?’
‘Huh. Well, they tried to deny it, of course. She conceded that she was pregnant but said the child was her husband’s and that she would have me arrested for slander if I dared to suggest otherwise. Sir William was an old friend of the family, she claimed, who was comforting her in her grief. With his breeches unlaced? I asked.’ He folds his arms across his chest, clearly delighted with himself. ‘Pair of fools. Then I delivered the coup de grâce. I said we had sufficient evidence to have Savile arrested for the murder of Robert Dunne.’
‘But we don’t,’ I say, glancing at Drake. His lips are pressed together.
‘They weren’t to know that,’ Sidney says, defensive. ‘Savile proved the weaker, in the end. He was already rattled by the fact that we had uncovered their little secret – when he thought he was to be accused of murder, he caved in altogether.’
‘Not altogether,’ Drake corrects quietly.
Sidney glances at him, irritated. ‘He said he would only explain himself to Captain Drake. So I insisted he come to my chamber where I could keep an eye on him while I sent a messenger to fetch Sir Francis from the Hoe – I told Savile he could not be trusted not to flee. He was scornful then – an innocent man had no reason to flee, he said, and in any case he would not go anywhere while his funds were tied up in this expedition. But he gave in and came with me nonetheless.’
‘Funds he had a good mind to withdraw, he said, if this was how he was respected by other gentlemen,’ Drake adds, giving Sidney a pointed look. I understand his anger; Sidney had gone against his express wishes and accused an important investor of committing murder, without any conclusive proof, and in the process had drawn Drake away from the operation to save the life of his wife’s cousin. While Drake is too much of a diplomat to reprimand a man of Sidney’s status, he clearly resents having been forced into this position. ‘By the time Sir Philip’s messenger arrived, there was little more I could usefully do to help you, Bruno,’ Drake continues, turning to me. ‘The armed men were under Carleill’s command, so I returned to the Star to deal with this development. It was fortunate that the accusation of murder, though rash, had shaken Savile. He had not realised we knew so much already – he was willing to admit his guilt in some parts, the better to insist on his innocence of the main charge.’
‘Then he still maintains he did not murder Dunne?’
Drake nods. ‘He conceded this much – that he and Martha Dunne were lovers, and had been for the best part of a year. He had promised to help her.’ He stops and purses his lips. ‘He assured me he would give up the whole truth, provided I did not report it to the authorities.’
‘And what was his version of the truth?’ I ask.
Drake looks weary. ‘Best you hear it from his own lips. I should like your view on whether or not he is lying.’
An armed guard stands by the door to Savile’s room, lolling against the wall. He jerks quickly to attention as Drake approaches.
‘I asked Sir William to remain here until I decided what to do about the situation,’ Drake tells me, in a low voice. ‘He is not happy about it, as you may imagine. He feels he is as good as under arrest.’
‘Then why has he agreed to it?’
‘Because he has the wit to realise that, if the inquest accepts Dunne’s death as murder, there is sufficient evidence to make him the principal suspect.’
‘Though probably not to convict him.’
‘Well, exactly – that is our problem. I could call in the coroner and the town authorities, but with a man of his status it would not be a simple matter. If I take that course, he will send for a lawyer from London. We could be delayed weeks.’ He stops outside the door and pins me with a frank look. ‘And of course he will withdraw from the voyage, along with his investment. He has made that clear. You will appreciate that Sir Philip has put me in a very difficult position. I cannot help wishing he had consulted me first.’
Sidney has declined to accompany us; he says he has heard Savile’s version of events already and in Sidney’s view it wouldn’t fool a child. Drake wisely ignored the remark, but that had not diffused the tension between them. Sidney is bristling with resentment; he t
hought he would have all the credit for catching the murderer and, though he will never admit it, he wants Drake’s praise as well. But taking matters into his own hands without asking the Captain-General has worked against him. I sigh. If the story of Thomas Doughty and its repercussions has taught us anything, it is that Drake will not tolerate any challenge to his authority. You’d think Sidney would have realised that by now.
Drake knocks sharply on the door. Despite the circumstances, he is evidently determined to treat Savile with courtesy. The question of degree is part of what makes this situation so fraught, and Drake knows it; though Drake is also a knight, Savile is a gentleman born, like Sidney, and almost certainly does not regard the Captain-General as his equal in status.
‘Yes?’ says an imperious voice from within.
Drake opens the door to a small though comfortably appointed chamber. Savile is seated at a table, writing a letter. He looks up as we enter and his expression hardens when he sees me.
‘What, Francis – have you brought this monk to hear my confession?’
‘In a sense,’ Drake says, ignoring his tone. ‘I want you to tell Doctor Bruno your account, as you told it to me.’
‘Why? What authority has he to judge me?’
‘None. But it was he who gathered the evidence against you, and so he would be called to testify, if it comes to that. Besides, I want a witness, in case you should try to deny your story.’
A muscle twitches in Savile’s jaw.
‘I thought we had reached an agreement?’
‘This is part of the agreement,’ Drake says calmly. He takes up a place on the window seat. I remain standing. Savile turns his chair around to face us.
‘Well, now. Where would you like me to begin?’ he says.
‘All the evidence suggests that you intended to kill Robert Dunne so that you could marry his wife, who is carrying your child,’ I say. ‘Begin with that.’