'Nothing is certain. Yet I give you my word that what I plan to do will not harm England, nor the members of the diplomatic mission. It is essential that I visit the Duke of Parma's court. To do so openly would be the best cover of all. But there's more.' 'More?' echoed Cecil.
'I also need permission to travel to Lisbon. That permission will have to be openly applied for.' Visits to foreign countries by a gentleman required the issue of a Queen's passport. 'I can obtain such permission, under normal circumstances, either in my own right or through my Lord Walsingham. I would not wish it to be blocked. By anyone with influence at Court, for example.'
'Your… relationship with the Queen suggests you might gain most things that you ask for.'
'My relationship with the Queen leaves me with a head on my shoulders simply because alone of those at Court I never ask her for anything. It's not your support I need. It is your word that you will not block my request.'
Cecil looked witheringly at Gresham. 'You understand so little about the world in which I live. My father is entrusting more and more to me, certainly, but my position is by no means secure. The Queen is… uncertain of me, though not hostile. The Earl of Essex frantically seeks every advantage he can gain. I have more influence than I do authority.'
Was he asking for Gresham's sympathy? He eased himself back into his chair, though it seemed to increase rather than diminish his pain.
'I will show you-my… goodwill. There will be no need to trouble Sir Francis. I will not block your proposed trip to Lisbon. You can accompany me on the mission to Flanders simply as a member of my household. You will have the status of a servant on the papers, if your honour can bear it.' He paused. 'Yet I do so not because you threaten those I love. If I believed that lay within your power I would have you stamped on with no more compassion than the filthiest fly under a man's boot. I will do so because I have learned that sometimes a man has to work with scum, and because I believe our country is threatened. And because, despite appearances, you might be useful in averting that threat.'
'I've learned to work with scum as well,' said Gresham, smiling again at Cecil.
The two men nodded briefly to each other before Gresham left. Outside Gresham found a drunken boatman asleep in his ferry, and got himself rowed erratically downstream, flashing past the stone of London Bridge with only inches to spare. It was late now, and even back at the the inn all was silent, with only the occasional howl of a dog disturbing the night. He gave a gentle tap on the door, their signal. Mannion had got a chicken from somewhere, and was picking at the last remaining bits of flesh, a large jug of ale by his side. The girl was asleep, fully clothed. Mannion had placed the coverlet over her, a rough woollen blanket. The thin plaster daubed} between the wooden uprights of the wall was flaking off all the time, and a fine layer of white plaster dust had already settled over the girl's hair and the dark covering. It looked like an omen of death. Gresham tried to dismiss it. Mannion spoke in a whisper.
'I 'ad an 'unch. Got a boy to go and see if George Willoughby was 'ome. 'E is. What's more, 'e's sending his carriage round now. Messenger says 'e's convinced no one's watching the house.'
'George? How on earth is it that he's back?'
They found the answer after the bone-crushing ride in the cumbersome carriage kept at the Willoughbys' London house to transport George's elderly parents on their infrequent visits to town. Much as Gresham scorned this as transport for old people, it could convey all three of them out of sight, and if the clattering passage of the vehicle disturbed anyone in the small hours of the morning they made no sign.
The girl seemed dazed when woken up and bundled into, a carriage, and just as dazed when they arrived and she was hurried upstairs in the company of a hastily awoken housekeeper and two maids.
'How-' Gresham began to ask, but George held up a hand and cut him short.
'The stuffing was knocked out of me, seeing you go off in that sieve of a boat. I lost heart for the voyage, to tell you the truth, so when Drake sent a pinnace off to give the good news about the San Felipe next day I cadged a ride on it. I suppose I hoped it might catch you up, tell the truth. Drake'd have said yes to anything, he was so fired up with his capture. We had the wind behind us all the way. I got here three days ago.'
'How did El Draco respond to the girl going missing?' asked Gresham.
'Hardly noticed, to tell you the truth. Ranted and raved a bit, accused several sailors of rape and murder, then someone suggested she was madly in love with you and had smuggled herself aboard the Daisy, and then he went back to counting ducats.'
'Someone?' asked Gresham raising an eyebrow. His friend was an appalling liar, and had gone red as he had spoken.
'Well, me, actually. Guessed she might have gone with you. Didn't want to see a sailor hanged — you could see the one Drake went for loved his mother and wouldn't have harmed a flea, never mind a fly. Anyway, never mind that. Tell me about your journey…'
Gresham gave the details, with occasional guffaws, and interruptions from Mannion, and then relayed his conversation with Cecil.
'Interesting,' said George, his great brow furrowed with thought. 'Let's be logical about this. Someone's been trying to kill you. We need to find out who. So let's work through the suspects.'
Gresham stood up, and started pacing the room.
'Obvious first suspect: Cecil.'
'Obviously a suspect,' said George, 'but it's not conclusive. All we know is that he's taken an interest in you. You could be a pawn in a much bigger game. He could be a pawn in a much bigger game. No. It's not conclusive.'
‘Few things ever are in my world,' said Gresham, 'but let's move on.'
'Walsingham has to be a suspect,' said George. He revelled in this politicking, thought Gresham,
'How so?' said Gresham. The thought had occurred to him, but it seemed less blasphemous coming from someone else's mouth.
'Walsingham was Mary Queen of Scots' enemy as much as Burghley and Cecil. He's out of favour because of the execution. Perhaps he set you up as the villain to get himself off the rack of the Queen's disfavour?'
'It's possible,' said Gresham, 'but I doubt it. He's survived far worse than this, and anyway, I think he's dying. I doubt if killing me to speed up the end of the Queen's displeasure would be a priority in his present frame of mind.
'There's something you 'aven't thought of,' said Mannion. He had acquired a shoulder of lamb and a tankard from somewhere, but was sufficiently impressed by what he wanted to say to put them down, though only momentarily. 'Walsingham's been setting you up as a spy for Spain, 'asn't 'e? Getting you to go to Mass, letting you give bits of information to them as what we know works for Spain?'
'Has he?' asked George, aghast. 'I didn't know that!'
'You weren't meant to,' said Gresham, looking meaningfully at Mannion. He waved the objection away, with a hand that had magically repossessed the leg of lamb.
"S'no matter,' he said with his mouthful. 'You can trust 'im. I'll lay my life on it.'
'You lay your life where you want. Just leave me to decide where I lay mine!' said Gresham ruefully.
'Well, don't you see?' said Mannion. 'Suppose word got out that you're a spy for Spain? Nothing stays a secret for very long in London! Walsingham could always try and explain that he set you up as a double agent, but at best 'e's goin' to appear a bloody fool — one of his spies working for Spain, sent by Walsingham as a crewman on Drake's bloody expedition to Cadiz no less! At worst they might think old Walsingham was trying to ride two horses at the same time, and set 'imself up with a nice pension if Spain did invade and take over, with one of 'is men on the inside track. Easiest thing is to have you knocked off, safely out at sea, and claim the credit for giving rough justice to a bloody spy. Alright, he loses a good agent, but maybe he saves his own bacon.'