With an armful of filthy sheets and accumulated mouse droppings, Tyballis looked to Elizabeth. ‘These could be washed, and I’m sure they would be serviceable again,’ she said. ‘But since you now have such nice new linen, perhaps you’d prefer me to rip these old things up for rags?’
‘Do what you like,’ said Elizabeth. ‘I don’t care, not one way nor the other. I never asked for no one to come poking and cleaning, and could have done it myself if I’d wanted. I’m not no invalid. Chuck the lot out, for all I care.’
‘You shall have a nice clean chamber to go with your new bed,’ Felicia insisted. ‘Since Mister Cobham has brought you new sheets, bolster cases, blankets and pillows, not to mention that pretty shift and the blue gown, well – it is a wonder you aren’t on your knees with gratitude.’
Elizabeth had helped very little with the cleaning and refurbishment of her chamber. Now she stood mid floor, glaring at Felicia. Her face was carved both left and right with long black puckered lines, turning every expression to a scowl. Her mouth, once full-lipped, now sneered even when she smiled. She was not smiling. ‘Reckon there’s only one thing I does on my knees, and it ain’t praying. No whore knows gratitude, for every whore’s a trollop? Is that it? A bitch on heat, not fit for nice clothes nor a decent bed. What am I, then? You’d have me stoned, perhaps?’
Felicia dropped her mop. ‘I didn’t mean …’ she mumbled, eyes teary. ‘But it is hard sometimes – to see others – and we struggle so, you see, when there is no wage and nothing for the little ones to eat. Were it not for Mister Cobham … but I do not complain about my dear husband. He does his best, you know. But the good Lord turned His back on us many years ago.’ She sniffed, looking over at Ellen. ‘My dear little girl,’ she murmured, ‘was my firstborn, eight years ago. But then, year after year five little babes were born to me, all dead either at birth or soon after from dysentery or other pestilence. Yet it was when I stopped attending church that finally I gave birth to dear little Edmund. So, you see –’
But Tyballis interrupted her. ‘Look,’ she whispered, ‘something is terribly wrong.’
From the window she watched the fog curl up the walls, soupy green tongues licking the sides of the building. Where it lay thickest, the mist covered the ground. But through it, rising like the fins of fish in water, two horses dragged, slow and tortuous as exhausted crusaders returning from war. The leading horse was ridden by a man so slumped that his face could not be seen. The second horse seemed to have no rider at all. Their hooves were muffled by fog, and no sound reached upwards, not even through the broken windowpanes.
Elizabeth and Felicia rushed to peer over Tyballis’s shoulder. Then each woman turned and ran from the room and down the staircase. Tyballis flung the front doors open to see Ralph dismount, half-falling from his horse. As she reached him and took him into her arms, he croaked, ‘Davey,’ and collapsed. The second horse stood patiently. Across its back lay a man, face down. His legs dangled, their fine brightly striped hose ripped and bloodstained. His hat was gone and the back of his scalp was bloody.
Felicia and Elizabeth took Davey down from the horse, wrapping him with their arms, cradling and carrying him. ‘Quick,’ Elizabeth said urgently, ‘onto my old bed in the hall where the fire’s bright.’
Tyballis helped Ralph to his feet. ‘Come by the fire, Ralph dear,’ she said. ‘Then we must call a doctor.’
Ralph winced. ‘Where’s Drew?’
‘Not back from Westminster yet.’ Tyballis called Ellen, who hovered, frightened, watching from the bottom of the stairs. ‘Do you know where a local doctor lives? Good. Then run quickly and get him.’
They laid Davey gingerly on the mattress in front of the fire. The flaring scarlet flames lit his wounds. He was deeply unconscious. ‘He’s breathing,’ Felicia said, stark-eyed. ‘He’s not – dead.’
Tyballis said, ‘Cushions, quick. Make up a mattress for Ralph beside the other. They must both be kept warm.’ She was already struggling with blankets and pillows, taking the excess from Elizabeth’s old bed to use for Ralph.
Davey had not moved. His lips were white. Now beside him, Ralph closed his eyes. ‘Just to … sleep,’ he muttered. ‘For pity’s sake … to rest … just a moment.’
Elizabeth knelt, a bowl of water and clean rags on her lap. ‘Tell me, my sweet love, where the hurt is. Then I’ll nurse you as you sleep. Like you did for me, now I’ll do for you.’
When Andrew returned, the doctor was still there. Ralph was conscious and talking but Davey was not. The rain once more drizzled, a silver mist splitting the thick sludge of fog into floating fingers. Ralph looked up as the great doors were flung open and Drew marched in, the rain spangled like stars across the swirling velvet of his surcoat. He stopped immediately, staring at the group by the fire.
Ralph groaned, ‘We were betrayed.’
‘What in damnation?’ Andrew strode over and knelt at once by the straggling pillows and Ralph’s bandaged face. The fire to his back, he threw off his coat. ‘Tell me everything,’ he said. ‘Is this the doctor?’
With an eye to Mister Cobham’s grand clothes and bearing, the doctor bowed. ‘I am, my lord.’
Tyballis said quickly, ‘I called him. And paid him.’
The doctor nodded. ‘My lord, as you see, I have done what I can. This patient has been gravely wounded, but I believe he will recover. But the other gentleman … sadly that is another matter. I fear the worst, sir.’
‘Fear is both unproductive and irrelevant. I expect a worthy result for a worthy fee, medic.’ Andrew lifted Davey’s head, gently turning it side to side. ‘Is this the most serious injury, the damage to the skull?’
‘It is, my lord. I have been debating whether to bleed the patient, but I fear that might kill as likely as cure him.’
‘You’ll take no unnecessary risk,’ Andrew said. ‘You will treat the wounds, attend both these men to the best of your ability, ask no questions and keep me informed.’ He paused, then stood, went to the table and poured himself wine from the jug. He then sat heavily on the floor, his velvets in the soot and drifting ashes. ‘Now,’ he addressed Ralph, ‘remembering the presence of the good doctor, you will tell me all you have the strength to explain.’ Ralph had little voice and less energy but he spoke at some length. The others clustered around. Every one of Cobham Hall’s lodgers was present, even Luke, who sat now at the far table looking grave. Casper kept Andrew’s cup filled, and Andrew passed his cup to Ralph, holding it for him. ‘Drink if you can,’ he said. ‘It may give you strength.’
Ralph sipped, shook his head and groaned. ‘Not much to tell. We collected Throckmorton, borrowed his horses and took him to where the ship dropped anchor, just as you’d told us. There was no hitch. We saw the bugger sail off. But as soon as we turned for home, we were ambushed. Four well-armed bastards, they were, not thieves in the night nor passing braggarts taking advantage. I know thieves, and I know coincidence. These devils were prepared, with chain mail under their doublets. And they knew where to find us, and swore worse sacrilege than you’d hear in a brothel once they realised they’d missed Throckmorton. But they wanted us, too. And took us.’
‘There was not a soul knew where you’d be but us, nor what ship Throckmorton was taking.’
‘Throckmorton himself, then. A fool gabbles. Said goodbye to his mistress perhaps, or some other bugger who betrayed him.’
‘He has neither friend nor mistress,’ Andrew mused. ‘Nor did he know which ship he’d be sailing, nor where it planned to drop anchor. That was known only to me. And then to you. And finally to those in this room.’
Nat had come to sit beside them, taking his brother’s hand. ‘This time of year there’s no easy road out of England. The ship as brought the arsenic’s not leaving St Katherine’s till next week. So, what other? Only the one, I reckon. Rivers’ spies must be well trained, and will know whatever you know. They’d find what ship’s sailing, as you did. So, just luck, maybe – bad luck. Not betrayal.’