Treachery

‘We’ve all had nights like that,’ Sidney says.

‘Yes, it would be an amusing story, if he had not been found dead the next morning,’ Drake remarks, his face stern. Sidney looks chastened.

‘Between us, we laid him on the bed,’ Thomas says. ‘He seemed to fall asleep right away.’

‘And no one saw or spoke to him after he returned to his cabin? No one heard anything unusual? Though I suppose it would be difficult to ask too many questions.’ I rub the nail of my thumb along my jaw and think again that I must visit a barber soon.

‘You ask a great many questions, Doctor Bruno,’ Thomas Drake mutters. ‘Anyone would think you were the coroner.’

Sir Francis regards me with shrewd eyes.

‘You perceive my problem exactly. Having given out that he died by his own hand, it becomes difficult then to press the men too closely as to what they saw or heard without arousing suspicion.’ He sighs, and pushes his glass away from him. ‘Already some are saying they want to leave while they still can, that this is now a doomed voyage. I have persuaded them to stay for now, but if it is presumed to be murder, it would be impossible to hold a crew together, each man looking at his fellows, wondering who among them is a killer. I must tread very carefully.’

‘But one of them is a killer, so you believe,’ Sidney says, a touch of impatience in his tone. ‘So you must find him, or risk him killing again.’

‘Thank you, Sir Philip,’ Drake says, with impeccable politeness, ‘but the situation is perhaps more complicated than you understand. In any case, be thankful it is not a problem that need disturb your sleep. You will have your hands full with Dom Antonio. The poor man spends his life running from assassins already – I do not want him staying in Plymouth if there is another close at hand.’

I see in Sidney’s face the effort it takes not to respond to this courteous dismissal. I half expect him to stand up and announce his intention to travel with the fleet, but perhaps I should give him more credit; even he can see that this is not the time. I frown at the table, already assembling the evidence in my mind, querying the how and the why. In part I am curiously relieved by the news of this death; surely with this shadow cast over the voyage Sidney will not be able to elbow his way aboard and I will be given an easy excuse without having to defy him. And yet there is another part of my brain that snaps to attention at the prospect of an unexplained death to be riddled out – already I am picturing the scene on deck, the last movements of the dead man as he enters his cabin, the ship dark and still. I shake my head to silence the buzzing questions in my mind. This man’s death is not my business, as Drake has made clear enough.

As if he shared my thoughts, Sidney sits forward and points down the table to me.

‘Well, perhaps we are in a position to help you, Sir Francis. You are fortunate that my friend Bruno here is better than a hunting dog for following the scent of a killer. When it comes to unexplained murders, he is your man.’

He leans back, beaming at me. At this moment, I would willingly push him overboard.

Drake arches an eyebrow. ‘Is that so? A curious talent for a theologian.’

‘I fear Sir Philip exaggerates. On one or two occasions I have happened, by chance, to be—’

‘He will not boast of it because he is too modest,’ Sidney cuts in. ‘But I could tell you some tales – Bruno has a prodigious memory and the subtlest mind of any man alive for finding a murderer and bringing him to justice. Why, only last summer—’

‘Yes, but these are nautical matters, Sir Philip, and I have no experience of such things,’ I say quickly, before Sidney can volunteer me for the task. ‘Sir Francis is right – this sad business is not our concern.’

I expect Drake to concur, but instead he studies me carefully, still pulling at the point of his beard. ‘You are a scholar, though, Sir Philip assures me? You are familiar with ancient languages?’

I bow my head in acknowledgement, recalling what Sidney had told me about Drake’s interest in me. ‘Some. It would depend which you have in mind.’

‘That is the issue. I’m not sure.’

Thomas Drake raises his hand again. ‘Francis, I don’t think—’

‘Peace, Brother.’ Drake pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He looks up and smiles at the company, with some effort. ‘Well, gentlemen. I wish you could have found us in better cheer. I am sorry to have dampened your spirits, but I thought it best you be informed. I have faith that we will resolve this matter as soon as possible. And now, you will want to get ashore, I suppose, and settle for the night.’

Sidney looks from Drake to Knollys, confused. ‘But we have a berth aboard the Leicester.’

Knollys clears his throat.

‘Philip, I must make some adjustments to my crew now we are here and will need that cabin for another officer. I had thought, once we arrived in Plymouth, you would prefer the comfort of an inn.’

‘I will have some of the men row you ashore. They are expecting you at the sign of the Star – don’t worry, it’s the best inn in Plymouth. I should know – I own the lease.’ Drake laughs. ‘I stay there myself when I am in town. Mention my name and they will do whatever they can to oblige you.’ He rises, sweeping his smile over both of us, but his gaze rests on me, as if he is debating whether to say something more.

Sidney’s face is taut with the effort not to protest. ‘That is gracious of you,’ he says, in a clipped tone. ‘I wondered, Sir Francis, if we might speak privately before we leave?’

Thomas Drake looks set to step in; it seems that he has appointed himself his brother’s counsellor, monitoring what he says and to whom. Drake, who does not appear to require such careful protection, waves him back.

‘Of course. Perhaps we may take the air? I feel the need of it.’ He nods us towards the door. ‘Wait for me on the quarterdeck – I will join you shortly.’

Sidney hesitates, then bows in acceptance. Thomas Drake opens the door for us. True to their orders, the guards are standing a little way off, close enough to keep an eye on the captain’s quarters but not, you would suppose, near enough to follow the conversation within. I wonder if they have been in these positions throughout the meal. If it were me, I would have had my ear stuck to the door as soon as it was closed. I say as much to Sidney once Thomas is back inside.

‘Of course you would,’ he says, laughing. ‘The surest way to get Bruno to do anything is to tell him he must not, in case he learns something forbidden.’

‘Whereas you are the very model of obedience, as Her Majesty will soon discover.’

He hisses at me to keep quiet. We emerge on to the upper deck at the stern of the ship, the part reserved for officers. Below us, the men sit in groups, some playing at dice, some whittling away at pieces of wood with pocket knives, others leaning over the rail and staring out across the Sound at the other ships.

‘It must be hard to keep discipline among the men while the ships stand idle here,’ I remark.

Sidney pounces on me, his eyes lit up again with a new scheme – one I can guess at before he even speaks.

‘Exactly! And Drake will be bleeding money keeping the crews fed so they don’t desert. This is why we must resolve this situation for him so that the fleet can leave as soon as possible. Then he will be in our debt.’

‘No.’ I take a step back. ‘You will not appoint me to find this killer, Philip. You have already persuaded me to join the voyage against my better judgement – though I see no sign of an invitation from Drake yet. Quite the opposite, in fact.’

He flaps a sleeve in my direction. ‘That is what I mean to discuss with him. Besides – what better way to demonstrate how indispensable we are?’ He squints into the low evening sun. ‘Listen – the fleet cannot sail until Drake determines who was responsible for the death of Robert Dunne. A good many persons of high standing have put up their own money for this venture, at my behest, including my uncle Leicester and Lord Burghley, not to mention the Queen herself. If the ships are stuck here in Plymouth, they lose the best part of their investment. But if we were to find this killer, Bruno, we would save the voyage.’ He gives my arm a little shake to press the point.

‘You overpraise my abilities,’ I say, pulling away. ‘Once or twice, I grant you, I have been fortunate in finding out a murderer, but it is not work I seek out for the love of it. Mostly I find myself in these situations with no choice.’

‘What about Canterbury? You went there willingly to seek out a killer, for the sake of a woman. But you will not do it for a friend, is that it?’

I look away. There is nothing to be said on the subject of Canterbury. He tries another tack.

‘You may not wish it, Bruno, but this is something you have a talent for, just as some men have a gift for making money or singing. If God has given this to you, He intends you to use it. I see that sceptical look. But remember the parable of the talents.’

‘I am only wondering when you became my spiritual adviser.’ I shake my head. ‘This is not our business. You heard what Drake said – the man had debts. No doubt one of his creditors grew tired of waiting. Or it is some quarrel between sailors – you think if anyone among the crew knows something, he would confide in a foreigner who has never sailed further than Calais to Tilbury? Let Drake take care of it according to his own judgement, as he said.’

Sidney nudges me to be silent; the Captain-General’s head appears at the top of the stair ladder.

‘Gentlemen! Thank you for waiting. It is more pleasant out here, is it not?’

He sweeps an arm round to encompass the view. The evening is still light, with charcoal streaks of cloud smudged across the deepening blue of the sky. White gulls circle around the topmast, loudly complaining; to either side the green slopes rise from the water and smoke curls from the chimneys of scattered cottages. Before us, out to sea, the other ships of the fleet rock gently at anchor, sails furled; behind us, the small town of Plymouth huddles into the bay. A thin breeze lifts my hair from my face and flutters the lace at Sidney’s collar.

Drake joins us by the rail. He turns and considers me again, as if weighing me up, then returns his gaze to the horizon. ‘What is it you wish to discuss, Sir Philip?’ Something in his tone suggests to me he already knows full well.

Sidney knots his fingers together, giving them his close attention. When he eventually speaks, he lifts his head and looks across the harbour, not at Drake.

‘Sir Francis, you recall in London, when you came to me to discuss the ordnance? We spoke of another matter then too, concerning my involvement with this voyage.’

He is careful with Drake’s title now that he wants his favour. Drake frowns, then turns to Sidney with an expression of confusion or amusement, or perhaps both.