Voyage to Muscovy (The Chronicles of Christoval Alvarez Book 6)

by Ann Swinfen

  The Muscovy Company occupied a handsome building not far from the Customs House and the Legal Quays. I had passed it many a time on my way to and from Seething Lane. Indeed I believe they had once occupied a property in Seething Lane itself, but as the Company had grown larger and richer they had bought this large house, not more than ten years old and better suited to their needs.

  I was shown promptly into the governor’s office and Master Heyward came forward politely to greet me.

  ‘I thank you for coming, Dr Alvarez,’ he said, smiling and bowing me to a large cushioned chair. ‘I believe you will have some idea of why I wished to speak to you.’

  I shook my head, feigning ignorance.

  ‘I am afraid I do not. Your letter made no mention of why you invited me to meet you.’

  As calmly as I could, I sat back in the chair and waited to see how he would broach the subject. His eyes were shrewd and I suspected he did not believe my protestations. He resumed his seat behind a massive desk which would have looked out of place in a smaller room, but was in proportion to this impressive chamber. There were windows facing in two directions, those on the south side no doubt providing a view of St Botolph’s wharf, which was leased by the Company from the City. The walls of the room were hung with tapestries which would not have disgraced a royal palace, and there were Persian rugs on the floor, no doubt imported by the Company along their eastern trading route. A side table against one wall was carved of some exotic timber and bore jugs and glasses that certainly came from Venice.

  Heyward leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and his chin on his clasped hands. He looked relaxed but determined, a man accustomed to conducting business briskly and commanding obedience.

  ‘I understand from Dr Nuñez, who is a shareholder and a member of our Court of Assistants, that you are familiar with the case of Gregory Rocksley, one of Sir Francis’s men, who has gone missing in Muscovy.

  I nodded. I could hardly deny it.

  ‘He was engaged on a most vital mission, one about which Sir Francis, God rest his soul, was deeply concerned. We have evidence that information of vital importance to England and Her Majesty has been leaking out through Narva, almost certainly through the actions of a traitor or traitors who were once in the Company’s employ.’

  ‘May I ask what kind of evidence?’

  He gave a quick nod, as if he approved of the question.

  ‘A Spanish merchantman was captured off the coast of Denmark by one of our own ships, when it was travelling from Narva to the Spanish Netherlands. This was in the spring of last year. Documents were found on board which contained secret information, dangerous to England’s safety.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘They were not even in cipher.’

  He shook his head at such carelessness – or was it a kind of arrogance? – on the part of the sender. And I raised my eyebrows. It suggested an amateur to me.

  ‘There was nothing in these documents to reveal the source?’ I said.

  ‘Nay. But one was written on a piece of paper with the Company crest. It was old and somewhat grubby, as though it had been kept for some time, but that was one of the details that pointed us toward a possible former employee. That, and the fact that it came from Narva, where several former Company men have set themselves up as independent merchants on their own account.’

  His expression showed his disgust at such disloyalty.

  ‘I understand that Rocksley was sent to investigate,’ I said, ‘but the war between Muscovy and Sweden may have prevented him from reaching Narva.’

  ‘That is correct. Why he then headed for Astrakhan, we cannot know. Perhaps someone he suspected had travelled that way.’

  ‘If it was one of these independent merchants,’ I said slowly, ‘I suppose he might have had legitimate reasons for travelling to Astrakhan and thence to Persia.’

  ‘Aye, although the area beyond the Caspian Sea can be as dangerous as the Swedish war. Perhaps more so. Trouble is forever breaking out amongst the Tatar tribes and the other barbarians in those parts. We have had disasters there in the past.’

  He paused, as a manservant came in with wine, which he poured for us. When he had gone, Heyward resumed.

  ‘It is essential that we discover what has become of Rocksley. To rescue him, if he still lives. Not merely for the man’s own sake, but also because he may have discovered information vital for the safety of this nation.’

  He raised his glass to his lips and gave me a piercing glance over it. I felt my heart sinking. I had been far too confident, thinking I could withstand this man.

  ‘Her Majesty has always protected the interests of the Company,’ he said, ‘and the safety of our people, from the moment she came to the throne. There have been times when our men have been held prisoner, for no reason, by the ruthless rulers of that country, merely to use as pawns in political negotiations with Her Majesty. She has never, never abandoned them. It is therefore our duty as loyal subjects to do everything in our power to root out this devilment before it goes any further.’

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he raised a hand to silence me.

  ‘I know how highly Sir Francis valued both your skill and your discretion. The Earl of Leicester himself was grateful for what you achieved in the Low Countries. On the Portuguese expedition you showed great resourcefulness in extracting Titus Allanby from Coruña under the very noses of the Spanish.’

  ‘A series of lucky accidents,’ I protested. I could see perfectly clearly where this was leading, but I would not go down without a fight.

  He smiled. ‘Perhaps. But it is those who contrive and make use of such lucky accidents who are most useful in situations like these. You will understand that we want you to go to Muscovy and find Rocksley.’

  No small order, then.

  ‘Do you even believe he is still alive?’ I said.

  ‘That we cannot know. We can only hope.’

  ‘Surely someone more experienced than I would serve you better. Nicholas Berden–‘

  ‘Nicholas Berden has recently entered Lord Burghley’s service. Besides, the Russians have specifically asked for an English physician to be sent, especially one with particular skills in the treatment of children. You will understand how perfectly you fill all the requirements.’

  It crossed my mind to argue that I was Portuguese, not English, but I thought he would not like such a quibble. Besides, my vanity was a little touched by the fact that he regarded me as English. There was, however, one sound argument he could hardly refute.

  ‘But, Master Heyward, I am no longer employed in Sir Francis’s service. I serve full-time as a licensed physician at St Thomas’s hospital. I have charge of two wards.’

  ‘Ah, I anticipated that you might regard that as a problem.’ He gave what I could only describe as a self-satisfied smile. ‘More wine?’

  I shook my head. I sensed that I would not like what was coming next and I needed to keep my wits clear.

  ‘One of my deputies, William Armstrong, has a nephew who has just completed his studies in medicine at Oxford. Early next year he is to take up a position as senior physician in the household of the Archbishop of York, when the present incumbent retires. In the meantime, he is anxious to gain some practical experience in a hospital. Your superintendant at St Thomas’s, Master Ailmer, has agreed that he should take over your duties while you are away.’

  I half started from my chair in horror, so that wine slopped over the rim of my glass on to my hand.

  ‘A student, fresh from university? With no practical experience?’ I swallowed. A vision of maimed and dying patients danced before my eyes. ‘He could not possibly take over my duties.’

  It may have sounded arrogant, but I was too distressed to care. I set down my glass on a nearby table, for my hand was trembling too much to hold it safely.

  ‘And how could experience in the care of children and pregnant women benefit a man who is to work in an archbishop’s household?’

  ‘I daresay both wome
n and children are not unknown in such a household,’ he said mildly. ‘But your concern for your patients does you credit. Your predecessor at St Thomas’s, Dr Colet, has agreed to return for the period of your absence, to supervise young Armstrong. He is experienced and reliable, and will see that no harm is done. His eyesight was beginning to fail and his hands are no longer steady, but there is nothing wrong with his experience or his intellect. It is all arranged.’

  All arranged! I gaped at him. This had all been arranged behind my back. Master Ailmer must have known, but had said nothing to me. As if he read my thoughts, Heyward continued.

  ‘I asked Master Ailmer not to mention these arrangements until I had the opportunity to speak to you myself. I know, as a loyal subject of Her Majesty, that you will be glad to undertake this mission which is of such vital importance to the nation. Your possess all the necessary qualities. You are a discreet, resourceful and experienced agent from Sir Francis’s service. You can be spared from your work here in London. You are a physician with the essential skills. Moreover, I believe you speak several languages.’

  ‘Not Russian,’ I said weakly, acknowledging that I had lost the battle before I had even begun.

  He waved a hand dismissively. ‘You will have time to learn the essentials on the voyage. I am sending an interpreter with you, but he has also been instructed to teach you as much as possible before you reached Muscovy.’

  I put my head in my hands. It was decided, then. I was to travel to that barbarous land ruled by insane tyrants.

  ‘When do we leave?’ I asked.

  ‘The end of May.’

  I paid a final visit to Sara Lopez before we left for Muscovy. Whenever I saw her, which was not so often now that I lived south of the river, she seemed nervous and afraid. In recent months her hair had grown quite grey, and Ruy’s beard and long locks were nearly white. I had not seen either of them since that dinner at which this whole crazed venture had first been mooted, though I heard of Ruy’s activities from time to time. How was he faring in this changed world, now that Walsingham was gone? Still attending his noble patients – the Queen, Dom Antonio (failed claimant to the Portuguese throne), and, ironically, the leaders of both the bitter factions, Essex and the Cecils.

  After the disaster of the Portuguese expedition, I had thought he would content himself with his profession as a physician and rebuild his fortune patiently through the spice trade, as Dr Nuñez was doing, but Ruy continued doggedly to pursue his financial claims against the Dom, who still owed him thousands of pounds, until the Privy Council, in exasperation, tied them together in such legal knots that I did not suppose he would ever be able to free himself. Sara admitted to me now that he was involved in some other dangerous business. We were sitting in her pretty parlour, where a serving maid had brought us small ale and an assortment of bite-size cakes.

  ‘He has not told me what it is, Kit,’ she said, ‘but it involves some projection that Ruy and Walsingham had plotted between them, using a Spanish agent called Andrada.’

  ‘Andrada?’ I asked, surprised. ‘I thought he was one of Dom Antonio’s followers, not a spy for Spain.’

  ‘He was. But he grew disillusioned because he had sacrificed so much – family, property, high position in Portugal – all for the Dom. He turned traitor and offered to the Spanish that he would kidnap the Dom and hand him over to King Philip. He reported to the Spanish king under the code name David.’

  I looked at her in horror. I had no love of the Dom myself, after what we had endured in Portugal and on the return journey, but this was cruel treachery indeed. And I had deciphered some of those David letters myself. I had not realised that David was the Dom’s man, Andrada. I was surprised Sara knew as much as she did, but I suppose, despite all Ruy’s cunning, he sometimes felt the need to confide in someone.

  ‘Andrada was seized by Walsingham’s men,’ Sara went on, ‘then released into Ruy’s custody, because Ruy said he could turn him again, to work for England. Andrada was told he was in my husband’s debt for his very life, and he was kept safe for a while in that house Ruy owns in St Katharine Creechurch.’

  I nodded. I knew about the house, a discreet place near the warehouse, where Ruy and Dr Nuñez sometimes lodged Marrano refugees, newly arrived penniless from Portugal. Walsingham had also used it when he needed to keep one of his agents hidden and safe for a time.

  ‘I do not know what they were planning,’ said Sara, ‘but I have the feeling it was some very dangerous projection, something at the highest level, involving Spain. Andrada went to the Continent on this affair, but then he disappeared. Now that Walsingham is dead, I am so afraid, Kit! If the plot is discovered, Ruy himself might be taken for a Spanish agent, without Walsingham to speak for him and explain that the plan was intended for the benefit of England.’

  She sobbed suddenly, and I put my arms around her.

  ‘He is too old for these dangerous games!’ she cried angrily. ‘Let younger men indulge in them. All I want is for our family to remain safe, but always he seems to seek out danger by choice. He is like a moth who cannot resist the candle, although it will perish in the flame.’

  The following day I left my lodgings soon after dawn, handing the key of my room to Goodwife Atkins.

  ‘Master Shakespeare will be here later today,’ I said, ‘but I shall want the room again when I return.’

  She nodded. She had inspected and approved Will as a temporary lodger during my time away. There had been some difficulty between Will and his own landlady, so he was eager to take over my lodgings as soon as possible. What the difficulty was had not been specified, but Simon believed that the lady in question was young, widowed, and somewhat over fond of Will, who did not reciprocate her feelings, though I suspected he was not averse to a little dalliance when the mood took him, as long as it did not tie him in chains. I was grateful that he would keep my room tenanted for me, and he had promised to move on when I returned. He seemed to have shifted about a good deal since coming to London.

  I shouldered my knapsack and picked up my satchel of medicines, turning away to walk slowly toward St Thomas’s, letting Rikki roam about to his heart’s content, for the next parting would be much more difficult.

  ‘Eh, lad,’ Tom Read said, when I tapped on the door of the porter’s lodge. ‘Come to keep company with Swifty and me, have you?’

  He crouched down and scratched Rikki behind his ear. Rikki, all innocent of what was happening, went happily to the cushion in the corner where he usually settled.

  ‘I’ve brought the bowls he eats from,’ I said, setting them on the table. ‘And he is supposed to sleep on this bit of old blanket, but I am afraid he usually sleeps on my bed. You will need to break him of that.’

  I tried to keep my voice steady, but the lump in my throat made it difficult. I knelt down beside Rikki and buried my face in his fur for a moment in the hope that I could take the memory of his warm familiar smell with me.

  ‘God go with you,’ I whispered. I would certainly not see him for months, even if I was able to return with this year’s fleet. If my task kept me in Muscovy beyond the end of August, I would not return for more than a year, perhaps never. Would he still know me, after so long?

  I got slowly to my feet and felt in my purse for coins.

  ‘I must leave you money for his food, Tom,’ I said.

  ‘Nay.’ He shook his head. ‘I get plenty of scraps from the hospital kitchen for Swifty, and they’ll give me enough for Rikki, too, knowing he’s your dog.’

  I could not linger, fearing I would begin to weep, so I turned briskly away, but Tom was not so easily fooled. He patted my arm.

  ‘Do not fret, Dr Alvarez. He’ll do fine with us. He’ll miss you, but he’ll be safe and well fed until you are home again.’

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  Out in the courtyard, I found Master Ailmer and Goodwife Maynard, governess of the nursing sisters.

  ‘We could not let you set off without wish
ing you God speed,’ Ailmer said, shaking my hand and bowing.

  Goodwife Maynard was tearful. ‘That’s a fearful place, they say, Dr Alvarez, that Muscovy. Full of heathens and wolves and I dunno what monsters.’ She sniffed and passed the back of her hand across her eyes.

  ‘I’m told the whole country is nothing but ice and snow, so I’ve knitted this for you, to wear over your shirt.’

  She handed me a sleeveless garment, knitted in soft natural wool, which would reach nearly to my knees. I could hardly imagine myself appearing in such a shapeless thing, but I thanked her for her kindness.

  ‘And they are not heathens, you know,’ I said. ‘They are Christians, but they belong to the Eastern Orthodox faith, like the Greeks of Constantinople.’

  She shook her head disbelievingly. ‘It amounts to the same thing.’

  I bade them farewell and strode through the gate, not allowing myself to glance behind me.

  By the time I reached the Bridge, I could hold back the tears no longer, so I made a great business of blowing my nose, as if I had a rheum. I knew I could trust Tom with Rikki, but memories of finding my dog neglected and starving in the street on my return from Portugal kept passing through my mind. Besides, how would I fare, without his loving companionship?

  Once I reached the quays that lay between the Bridge and the Tower, I was forced to think of other things. There were dozens of ocean-going ships moored at the quays or anchored a short way offshore, so that it would have been difficult to locate the vessels of the Muscovy fleet, had they not all flown the standard of the Company. There were eight of them, all large merchant vessels of considerable tonnage, but unlike many merchant vessels they also bristled with a respectable provision of cannon. I knew I was to travel on one called the Bona Esperanza (not an uncommon name for a ship), but at the moment I could not see which one she was.