‘I see you have ale, at least. And food.’
‘Aye, the keeper was happy to provide it for a penny. He’ll bring me more, too, if I pay him.’
‘What is the charge against you?’
‘Harbouring a known felon, Mistress Katherine Giltspur.’
‘And is there any truth in this allegation?’
‘I do not think it wise for me to answer such questions under the present circumstances.’ He raised a finger and ran it across his throat. ‘My prospects for long life do not appear too healthy. I am not sure that speaking to you will improve my chances.’
‘Has she, too, been arrested?’
He shrugged, then surreptitiously shook his head.
‘I have just come from Giltspur House. I must tell you I was shocked more than I can say to hear of your arrest. The sentries would not allow me entry.’
‘Well, clearly my arrest must confirm Mistress Katherine’s guilt. That is what they will now be saying. That is what the old widow, Mistress Joan, will say. She will be spitting blood and pins.’
‘You know, Sorbus, I had always imagined you felt disdain for Kat, as though she were not good enough for your master or, indeed, for you.’
‘Folk are wont to make assumptions, usually false.’
Shakespeare went down on his haunches so that he might speak more quietly. ‘I beg you, if you know where she is, tell me.’
‘I know nothing.’
‘If you are innocent, Sorbus, I may be your only chance of life. Yours and Kat’s . . .’
The prisoner laughed bitterly. ‘You, save me? Mr Shakespeare, you are the reason I am here in these shackles. Just ask him.’ He nodded towards the cell door.
Shakespeare turned. Richard Young was standing there, hands on hips and legs akimbo. Shakespeare rose to his feet, annoyed that he had not heard the justice’s approach.
‘Well, you’re here now, Shakespeare. That’ll save me the chore of picking you up.’
‘Why have you brought his man here, Young?’
‘For harbouring a most notorious murderess and keeping her from the righteous clutches of the law, a felony for which he will hang by the neck until dead. Probably on the same scaffold as you and the bitch herself, God willing.’
‘You are talking of Katherine Giltspur. Where is she?’
‘I know where she was – Mr Sorbus’s little hiding place in Pissing Alley. We will have her soon enough.’
‘Pissing Alley? What house is that?’
Young jutted his chin at Sorbus. ‘His. And he had her there.’
‘What evidence is there?’
‘We have evidence. The evidence of the Si Quis door and a note left for her which this man took. He was followed to Pissing Alley. She wasn’t there, but there was a comb with strands of fair hair. That’s evidence enough for the court – that and the Si Quis note. And so he will pay the penalty.’
‘A friend of mine is seeking a position as a footman,’ Sorbus said quietly. ‘He cannot read, so I went there to see if I could find him a suitable position.’
‘A mere coincidence then, Mr Sorbus,’ Young sneered. ‘Tell that to the court of law. That will save your neck by and by.’
‘What court of law?’ Shakespeare demanded. ‘You do not have the woman, so you cannot have a charge; thus you have nothing.’
‘God damn you, Shakespeare, we have all we need. Did you think we would not follow you and discover your tricks? We will find her and then you will all hang. You may think yourself protected now, but you will see the truth soon enough.’ His hand went to his dagger.
Shakespeare’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword, but he did not draw it for he saw that Young was not about to enter the fray. Instead, Shakespeare addressed Sorbus. ‘Do not despair, sir. There is error here. I know you to be wholly innocent and will do all in my power to prove it.’
Then he pushed past the weakling frame of Richard Young and strode out into the warm summer air.
Chapter 38
Shakespeare had never seen Sir Francis Walsingham in such a high state of anticipation. Though no word had come down from Staffordshire, he had convinced himself that Babington’s letter must have already made its way into Chartley Hall and, even now, be in the eager, shaking palms of the Queen of Scots.
‘Her Royal Majesty awaits news with ill-concealed elation. The ambassador of France was with us this morning, and I feared for a while that she would reveal all to him. “Monsieur Châteauneuf,” she said, her eye twinkling like the Venus star, “you have much secret intelligence with the Queen of Scotland. But believe me, I know everything that is done in my kingdom”. The Baron de Châteauneuf looked full of suspicion at this.’
‘Will he act on it?’
‘He can do little now. It is too late for the French to intervene. The only thing they could do is warn the Pope’s White Sons, but all the ports are now closed. To leave the country, they will have to go by secret means. That will not be easy. One or two might escape – but we can live without them, so long as we have Babington, Ballard and Savage.’ Walsingham rubbed his hands. ‘And that is in your hands, is it not, John? Yours and Poley’s.’
‘You will probably know by now that I was not admitted to their feast last night.’
‘I heard. But it will not prevent you from observing them. You are still intimate with Savage, are you not?’
‘Perhaps. I will seek him out this day, but the fact that I was barred from their company will not have helped his own anxieties.’
‘What’s done is done. I believe Babington at last realises how high the stakes are and has begun to take precautions. Excluding you was perhaps the first sensible thing the man has done. Poley told me in great detail how Babington revealed the contents of his letter to all present, and the mixed reactions he received. The news was certainly not met with universal rejoicing.’
‘That does not surprise me.’
‘There was a measure of panic. Both Salisbury and Tichbourne seemed on the verge of storming out and riding for their home counties. It was only Robin’s clever assurances that calmed their anxieties. Doubtless some will try to go in the next few days. In the meantime, I must prepare for the move. The court goes to Richmond in the morning. You must hasten to Savage’s side.’ He nodded to Shakespeare that it was time for him to depart.
Shakespeare did not move. ‘Before I go, Sir Francis . . .’
‘I am busy, John. The council meets in ten minutes. There are arrangements to be made, correspondence to be read and written.’
‘Forgive me, it is the matter of the murder of Nicholas Giltspur.’
‘What now? I do not have time for this.’
‘I need a warrant to go into Giltspur House, and a squadron of guards to enforce it.’
If Walsingham thought his man was jesting, he did not laugh, merely stared at him with disbelief. ‘What insanity is this? Have you gone moon-mad, John?’
‘I am certain the truth about Giltspur’s death lies within the walls of that house. There are secrets there, and I need to conduct a search.’
This time Walsingham did laugh. ‘Forget it, John. It will not happen.’
‘Believe me, Mr Secretary, I do not enjoy coming to you with this matter. I would go to Judge Fleetwood, but I need more than he could provide. I need a royal guard, untainted, for this involves matters of a sensitive nature. I believe you know what I mean, sir.’
‘Do I?’ Suddenly suspicious.
‘Would you have me speak it?’
‘Yes. If you have something to tell me, then say it. I may delve into men’s souls but I cannot read the contents of their minds.’
Shakespeare had been considering this on the boat journey downriver to Greenwich Palace; could he afford to let Walsingham know that he was now privy to this great secret? Now it was being unavoidably prised out of him, for he had already said too much.
‘Speak, John.’
‘It is something I should not know, something I was reluctant to believe – and yet now I do believe it to be true.’