In my pocket were a few gold coins from the purse given me by Henry; beyond that I had nothing. I was a man alone, without home, without estate, without family, and at this point, without friends.
What was I to do? Find Emma Delahay? Then how? She may have died, for the plague visited London often. My small fortune was gone and my gold would not last long. Should I return to writing? But I was no writer, merely a man with some facility with words. Still, I had a story of the wars, perhaps several, and so, until fortune smiled again, perhaps…
To sit idle was never my way. Somehow I must be doing.
The England of Good Queen Bess was a country on the march. Merchants and tradesmen, once despised, now often held positions of honor. Some of them were acquiring coats of arms and being ushered into the gentry. Yeomen had become nobles, and all was changing. Of the old families who had come with William from Normandy, few remained in any kind of power. A new order of men was rising, yet there was no lasting place for me in England, for sooner or later questions would be asked and my identity discovered.
Richard Field…I would seek him out. With that in mind I went to my room. At my small table I began to compose a firsthand account of the battle of Arques. To flesh it out I included a brief account of Henry of Navarre. It was no obsequious, flattering picture, but a straightforward account of the man, his character, and his capabilities.
Most of the night I worked, driving swiftly ahead, caught up by the excitement of my own narrative. It was not the picture from the long view as so many were, but from the standpoint of the soldier in the field, of hand-to-hand combat, the clash of blades, the blood, the dying, the waiting, and the occasional flashes of humor.
Next day Richard Field greeted me as an old friend, for he at least had not changed except that he was now risen in the world. His print shop was twice its former size, and he employed a dozen workmen and apprentices now where there had been but two before.
Alone in his private chamber where he conducted his business, he stood back and looked at me. “Ah, but you have changed! The boy has become the man! And that scar on your cheekbone?”
“It was single combat, at Ivry, between the armies. With a lieutenant of the Duke of Mayenne. I fought two such fights.”
“And what have you here? Another manuscript?”
“A firsthand account of Arques.”
“Good! I think we can use it. Do another on Ivry.” He glanced over the sheets of manuscript. “Hah! A picture of Henry of Navarre! That will hold much interest here!”
Seated over a glass of wine I explained that I sought Emma Delahay.
Richard Field shrugged. “Who can say where she is? London is a vast place and people come and go. She was a woman alone, and there are many murders—most of which go unpunished and the murderers unfound.
“It might be that. Or she might just have chosen to disappear. You spoke of the Good Catherine. Her master may know something that would help you.”
For hours I wandered the streets of London but saw no other familiar face. Tosti Padget, had he been here, would probably have known all, but he had disappeared. Then, at night in my chamber, I worked at telling the story of the battle of Ivry, and noting down several others, one a tale of Spanish treasure I heard while there.
When I saw him again, Field commented, “You who are forever trying foreign ventures should go to the Levant Company, lately chartered to carry on trade with Turkey, Venice, and all the eastern Mediterranean. It has the smell of a good thing, indeed.
“Besides,” he added, “it were well to be free of London now, for the plague is such that soon all feasting must cease, and the theaters may soon be closed.”
We talked on various subjects, drinking our wine the while, and he told me much that had obtained whilst I was away to the wars. Despite what I had heard heretofore he said he thought Robert Greene was dead, and that Edward Alleyn, the tragedian, had married Joan Woodward, stepdaughter to Philip Henslowe, a theater man himself.
“There was great scandal, too, about the taking of the great Spanish ship,” he continued. “A rich prize she was, and all who came aboard her made off with some thing, and none of them trifles. The Queen, they say, is furious. My lord of Cumberland is he who finally laid her aboard and deserves the most, but some others, Raleigh among them, are much discontented.”
Late it was when at last we parted, and I started back through the streets alone. Yet I had two pistols, well charged, and my blade with the silver hilt.
Emerging from the door, I saw a carriage drawn up down the street, all silent and standing, and I liked not the look of her, with two powerfully built men on her box. As I started past, the coach came forward, following me.
“You’re daft, Chantry!” I told myself.
Yet it was coming up, moving more swiftly now, and I drew warily to one side and stepped into a doorway to have my back against something. The coach drew abreast and stopped, and a woman’s gloved hand emerged from the curtained window.
“Young man!”
Holding myself ready, I replied, “Is there something you wish?”
“Are you not the gallant Captain Chantry?”
“I am Captain Chantry.” I glanced to left and right. “These are black streets, milady, and were I you I should make the best of my way home. Thieves do hunt the streets about here, and no man is safe, let alone a woman.”
“Will you not share my carriage? Come, do not be afraid. See?” She opened the door. “I am alone.”
Curious and intrigued, I moved a step from the building. Indeed, she was alone, and as for the two men on the box, I counted myself quite their equal.
“What is it you wish?”
“Come, get in, and we will drive you to your inn. Oh, yes! I know where it is. A strange place, too, by all accounts. One wonders if the handsome young captain is as guileless as he seems.”
Curious indeed, I stepped into the carriage and seated myself opposite her.
She laughed. “What! Is the noble captain afraid then? Will you not sit beside me, Captain?”
“If I did so I could not see your beauty half so well, milady.”
She laughed again and leaned toward me. She was masked. Her perfume was delicate and suited her. She was clad as for a ball, her white shoulders but barely covered, her hat riding upon a blond coiffure.
“Come, Captain! Do you so soon forget old friends? I have cause to remember you, who were so gallant, and such a magnificent swordsman! My! I who have seen the best was amazed! And quick to act, too! Never a second’s hesitation!”
She leaned back so that her face was half in the shadow. Suddenly her bantering tone changed. “Captain, I have long ears, for I have discovered that information is ever the price of victory, and I understand a venture upon which you depended much has failed you.”
“It is the fortune of trade, milady.”
“Indeed it is, and my informers tell me that while you ventured but little, your ventures were marked with success.”
“Small success! And the woman I trusted disappeared, taking with her what little I had.”
“But you trusted her? Some men would think you a fool to trust any woman, particularly in a business way. Was she your mistress, too?”
“She was not,” I replied stiffly.
The coach had come to a halt. Looking out, I could see that she had indeed returned me to my inn. I moved as if to depart but she put a hand on mine. “Stay, I would talk a minute.
“Look you,” she said. “Who I am or where I come from does not at this time matter. You trusted a woman and she failed you, or seems to have. I needs must trust a man and I know no other who seems so likely a risk.”
“I thank you. If there is anything—”
“There is, indeed.” From a bag beside her on the seat she took a smaller sack. “Take this. Count it well, and when
you have done so, think how it might be invested.
“In the sack you will also find a name and a place. You are not to try to discover who bears the name, nor go near the place until the venture is complete. Nor even then unless in dire emergency.
“Do you, if you should leave England, return to this same inn. I shall find you.”
“But, milady, I—”
Her hand pressed mine. “Take it. I trust you. Indeed, there is no other I can trust. Even you may fail me. But as you are alone and without family, so am I….Do for me what you can.
“This that you hold may seem much, though it is not enough for what I need. Not enough for what you need, either, although it is a step.
“Take this, and of the profits from the venture, you may keep half. That is all. Now go.”
Swinging down, I turned. I saw her face for a moment, but masked with a domino such as women sometimes wore at masquerades or when they wished not to be known. Her chin I saw, and her mouth. It was a firm little chin, and the lips were lovely. The eyes behind the mask seemed beautiful.
She waved, and then the carriage began to roll. In a moment it had whipped around a corner and was gone.
A moment I stared after it, then went into the inn and to my room. I put the sack upon the table, doffed my hat and coat, and bolted the door.
Then I drew the string on the sack and dumped the contents upon the table.
They fell in a dazzling heap, and one, rolling free of its companions, fell upon the floor.
For a moment I could only stare. Gems…rare and beautiful gems! Not less than a dozen of them.
Stooping, I recovered the one from the floor. It proved to be a ruby, and a fine one, too.
With one finger I separated them. Three rubies, all of fair size, four diamonds, an emerald, three pink pearls, and a pendant of gold set with amber and onyx.
I sat down on the bed. I was perspiring freely. For a few minutes I simply sat and stared, stunned by the enormity of it.
Nor was I mistaken. My father had owned a few fine gems and had begun teaching me about them when I was very young. These were, as nearly as I could see in the light I had, excellent stones. Several had obviously been removed from their settings, losing a part of their value, no doubt.
There were also three gold coins. They were all alike. Taking one, I examined it close to the light, but the inscription was in a language strange to me.
Again I stirred the gems with my fingers, slowly pushing them together. Ten thousand pounds? Closer to fifty. And I was to have half…of the profits!
CHAPTER 28
WHEN I HAD completed my account of the battle of Ivry and took it to Richard Field, he greeted me with the news that the Good Catherine had come up the Thames only hours before, and was even now about to discharge her cargo.
Taking my payment from him, I left at once. The Good Catherine lay but a short distance away.
The captain was a square, solid man and he watched me board. I went to him on the quarterdeck. “I am Tatton Chantry,” I explained.
“I know you. You’ve become a famous man.”
“It is not fame I seek, particularly that kind. Two things I need to know: the success of my venture and the whereabouts of Emma Delahay.”
“Your ventures,” he put emphasis on the plural, “have been successful. I am a cautious man, Captain Chantry, not a gambler as many in the trade have become. I trade in staples, in established items. I do not look for gold or gems, just profitable trade.
“I was instructed to continue to reinvest what you ventured, and have done so. Come below to my cabin and you shall see.”
We went below and he took from the grate a small pot. “Hot chocolate,” he said. “It is something learned from Mexico.”
“A habit I acquired in Spain,” I said.
He glanced at me under his thick brows. “Spain, Captain?”
“I have been a prisoner there.” Briefly, I explained the circumstances of my capture.
“Good! You are a man after my own heart. There is a time to fight, and a time to talk. You saved your crew, and you saved yourself. The ship was already lost to you.”
From a drawer he took a small book. On the cover was pasted a small square of paper. Accounts of Captain Tatton Chantry.
Opening it, he showed me in neat columns of figures the sum and total of my investments and how each bit had been invested. I glanced at the total, then I had to look again from surprise. He noticed it and smiled complacently. “That is it, Captain, nine thousand four hundred and sixty-two pounds.
“I might add that having your money with which to work has made it easier for me. There is no need to seek more adventurers to include their bits. I hope you will not see fit to withdraw all you have here.”
“On the contrary. I wish to draw one hundred pounds now, and a bit more later. However,” here I paused for a moment, “I think you will have no need to look for other venturers. I have lately been asked to invest quite a large sum, more than enough to supply trade goods for several ventures.”
“You wish to venture my entire cargo?” He shook his head. “I would not advise it, Captain. You know the old saying about putting all one’s eggs in one basket. Much as I appreciate your confidence, I would suggest you place your investment in several ships. I can recommend—”
“I was coming to that. I wish at least four other good, substantial men, such as yourself. And,” I hesitated a moment, “although you may not approve, I would like one other, one who is daring, one who is shrewd, but one willing to take risks if they offer a substantial profit.”
Before him I placed the largest of the rubies. “Do you know gems, Captain?”
He picked up the stone and took it to the stern light, turning it slowly in his fingers. Coming back, he placed it on the table between us. “I know something of gems. My estimate would be around five thousand pounds.”
I sat back in my chair. “Several such stones were entrusted to me, Captain, and I am to invest them as I see fit. The lady who entrusted me professes to know nothing of ventures or the like.”
“But something of men,” the captain commented dryly. “You have known her long?”
“I do not know her at all.”
He shrugged. “I have been at sea all my life, Captain Chantry, and have been in many ports and foreign places. I am surprised at nothing.”
He got to his feet. “Very well. I shall make a list of the cargo I have in mind and will bring it to you. In the meanwhile I will think of other ships’ masters who might be the sort of whom you speak.”
We walked out on the deck, and at the rail he said, “These other ventures? Must they be to the New World?”
“Not at all. In fact, I have heard of the Levant Company, who will trade to the eastern Mediterranean, largely in raisins, currants, and such.”
“I had something of the kind in mind. This other man, the gambler. He has been wishing to chance a voyage around the cape to India. He has the vessel, he has the crew, and he is an excellent seaman. I will arrange a meeting.”
After a moment, he said, “This woman? Would she prefer you not to gamble?”
I shrugged. “With you and the others whom you will find the chances are much in our favor. I think she would be willing to take a flyer…she certainly took a chance on me.”
“Not so much of a chance, Captain Chantry. She was a good judge of men.”
I wondered afresh. Who could she be? I knew so few women, but obviously at least one knew me.
Could she have been Emma Delahay? This woman seemed much younger, and more slender. Moreover, Emma Delahay could make her own ventures.
“Captain,” I said, “who do you think she can be? I mean what kind of woman?”
He stared at the crowds along the river front. “I have been thinking on that. She may be a noble woman who wishe
s to be wealthier, or one who fears the future. She may be a mistress of some great man who has been given gems and is wise enough to know that beauty fades but gold does not. Or she may be a thief using this method of turning her stolen jewels into cash. She may also be some fashionable bawd who realizes that youth fades and with it her stock-in-trade.”
He paused a moment. “Or it may simply be someone who wishes to establish a tie with you. And there is another thought. It may be that some enemy of yours has deliberately given you stolen goods, planning to have you caught in their possession.”
He turned and looked right at me. “Chantry, to be caught with stolen goods could mean hanging!”
Suddenly, and with awful clarity, I saw it all. It was a trick! Not by Rafe Leckenbie, who seemed to have vanished, but his mysterious supporter, the man with the white hair and the cold eyes!
The rest of the gems were hidden in my room! Even now the villains might have come seeking them, and me!
“I do not think that is the case,” I said, “but for safety’s sake, I think I will accompany my venture to the New World with you.”
“I’d be pleased, but do you not return to the inn without looking about.”
Indeed I would not.
Two more rubies and three diamonds were in my sash, sewn into the material only that morning. The emerald, three pink pearls, and the pendant were in my room, but well hidden.
One day, years ago, I had been leaning out the window watching what went on below when a gust of wind slammed the window at me and I jerked back quickly, my fingers clutching the edge of the shelf on which I had been leaning.
My fingers had given a sharp tug at the bit of board that trimmed the window ledge and it had swung out, revealing a cunningly hidden compartment beneath it. From the dust I gathered nobody had opened it in years, and may not have even known of its existence. Possibly some mechanical-minded guest had contrived it himself for the purpose of hiding something.
Into that compartment I had put the remaining gems, closing it carefully and scattering dust along the edge. The window was rarely opened, I knew. The chances were that nobody now alive knew of the place. I had planned to leave the gems there but a short time. Now I knew it might be long before they were removed, for I had decided to remain aboard the ship, and said so to the captain.
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