logs and kindling in a basket to one side. The clerk brought them up a lamp and some bread, cheese and a jug of wine before bidding them a good night. They heard the door downstairs close and then the rattle of a lock.
‘That’s that, then.’ Thomas let out a sigh as he looked round the room. ‘I’ll take the bed nearest the fire.’
‘As you wish.’
Now that they were alone Thomas noticed that his companion had dropped the deference due from a squire to his knight.
‘And you can get the fire lit before we eat. We need to get warm and dry our clothes.’
Richard frowned at him but before he could speak, Thomas raised a warning finger. ‘I know what you’re thinking.’
‘Then why don’t you tell me?’
‘You were sent on a mission on behalf of Sir Robert Cecil, not to be my squire, and you’re starting to resent it.’
‘I wonder why I might do that? After all, I am an educated man. I have studied at Cambridge, I speak a number of languages, I have performed valuable services for the Secretary of State. All of which is perfect preparation for being the dogsbody of a knight long past his prime.’ He paused and gritted his teeth before saying apologetically, ‘Pardon me, I am cold and exhausted. I spoke out of turn.’ Thomas laughed and shook his head in wonder. ‘That is the most you have said to me since we left England. Truly.’
Richard shrugged, and undid the clasp of his cloak and let the sodden garment drop to the floor.
‘Well, it’s good to know a little of your background,’ Thomas continued in an amused tone. ‘And that you consider that my best years are long behind me.’
‘I apologise.’
‘No need. You are right, I am no longer the warrior of my youth. But I assure you, when I was your age my body was as well shaped as yours. Better perhaps. Even now, who knows?’
The young man had removed his leather jerkin and struggled out of his woollen shirt before he stared at Thomas with an amused expression. ‘You would try your strength against me?’
‘You think I would be afraid to?’
‘No. Not from what I know of you, Sir Thomas. But I think you would be unwise to.’
Thomas cocked an eyebrow but kept his silence as he also removed his wet garments until he was standing in his boots and breeches and his powerful torso was revealed. The knotted white flesh of old scars was clearly visible by the pale glow of the lamp and he saw Richard staring at him curiously, before he looked away in embarrassment.
‘I’ll light the fire,’ said Thomas. ‘There’s another lamp over there. Take it, and go and see if you can find some more blankets. I want to be warm tonight at least, before we continue on our way.’ Richard nodded. Using a length of straw from a tear in one of the mattresses as a taper, he lit the lamp’s wick and left the room. Alone, Thomas eased himself down on to the floor beside the fireplace. His damp skin felt colder still in the chill air and he shivered as he built up the kindling over a small bed of straw and then applied a small flame. It caught readily and Thomas leaned forward, blowing gently to encourage it. Soon there was a soft hiss and crackle as the small flames licked up around the kindling. By the time Richard returned, the room was lit by the rosy glow of the fire and shadows danced on the plaster walls of the room.
‘Here.’ Richard had some folded blankets balanced against his chest and he held one out. ‘Found them in a cupboard. Spare bolsters too if you need one.’
‘I’ll be comfortable enough without.’ Thomas nodded his thanks and took the blanket, quickly shaking it out and then draping it around his shoulders before he added some of the smaller split logs to the growing blaze.
Richard took a blanket for himself and sat on the edge of the bed that Thomas had chosen for himself, leaning forward slightly to get closer to the warmth of the fire. There was a brief silence before he spoke.
‘Those scars. Did you get them in the service of the Order?’
‘Some. Others came from my service elsewhere.’ Thomas eased himself back and round so that he could face the younger man. He touched his left shoulder. ‘An arrow cut through me there while I was in Flanders. ’Twas a flesh wound, but I bled like a stuck pig, as I recall.’ He moved his hand down to his left breast. ‘This is where a dagger cut me deeply. This other I got on an expedition in the harbour at Algiers. La Valette did not want us to be hampered by armour. There was a skirmish aboard the galleon we seized and a corsair leaped out of the shadows in front of me and struck. I’d have been cut down with his second blow if La Valette had not come between us and killed the fellow.’ Thomas looked down into the fire, his brow creasing at the memories. He tapped the inside of his left elbow. ‘The scar there was from a bum, when we attacked a corsair fort near Tripoli. The enemy were using incendiary pots. One burst on the wall beside the ladder I was climbing and the naphtha burned through the chain mail and the gambison beneath and on to my flesh.’ He winced at the memory of the terrible, intense pain that he had endured during the long night it took to capture the fort.
‘What about that one, on your forehead?’ Richard asked quietly.
‘This?’ Thomas raised his hand and traced the thin scar an inch below the hairline. He was silent for a moment as he slowly ran the finger backwards and forwards along the scar and Richard watched him expectantly, eyes glinting with reflection from the fire that was wanning the room. Thomas cleared his throat. ‘This one I got when I slipped on some ice and hit my head on the door of an inn.’
Richard’s jaw sagged and then he burst into laughter and Thomas joined in, filling the room with a hearty sound. The laughter continued for longer than it might have done now that the tension between the two men had eased for the first time since meeting. And then, as it died away, Richard became self-conscious and stood up and pulled two chairs over towards the fire and hung his clothes over them to dry, hesitating a moment before he did the same for Thomas’s cloak, jerkin and shirt. Meanwhile, Thomas took out the small knife he carried in a sheath at his back and cut the bread into hunks and sliced the cheese and offered half to Richard.
‘Thank you.’ The young man stood up and gestured to the bed. ‘Yours, I think.’
Thomas shook his head. ‘Have it.’ He thumped the sleeping mat beneath him. ‘This will serve well enough.’
Richard sat and they both began to eat. It was the first meal in weeks that Thomas had eaten that was not infused by the salty tang of the sea, nor spoiled by the nauseating roll of the galleon as it clawed its way across murky waves under a grey sky. Consequendy, simple bread and cheese as it was, the taste was unrivalled and as his stomach filled and his body was warmed Thomas felt content. Partly, he realised, because now there was a prospect of some companionship where before there had been only a frosty tolerance between himself and Richard. Thomas wanted to find out more about Cecil’s agent, partly out of a desire to learn what he could about the document and the precise nature of Richard’s orders but also out of simple curiosity and a wish to know the man better. Yet he knew that to presume too much too quickly might risk having Richard raise his guard once again. He reached for the jug of wine and poured them each a cup. He handed one across to Richard. The clothes had begun to steam and a musty aroma filled the room.
‘You were well chosen for this mission,’ said Thomas. ‘If you speak your other languages as well as you do Spanish then you will be very useful indeed.’
Richard gave a quirky smile. ‘Useful? Perhaps a man of my social station should consider that a compliment.’
Thomas was tempted to ask more but there was a touch of anger and, more, shame in the young man’s voice and he decided not to pursue the matter for the present.
‘You have played your part well enough,’ Thomas continued. ‘But we will both be called upon to perform like the best players in London if we are to convince the other members of the Order when we reach Malta. It is not enough that you behave like a squire. You must begin to think like one. You must do whatever I ask of you without hesitation and without any of the resentment you occasionally show. You will keep my armour, equipment and wardrobe clean. You will behave with due courtesy to everyone you encounter, no matter what their class. You must, at all times, deport yourself as a gentleman who aspires to become a knight. And not just any knight, but one of the Order. If you can do that then you will pass for a squire.’
Richard’s expression became bitter. ‘Then I shall pass for what I shall never become, nor ever a knight.’
‘How so?’
‘Nobility is the preserve of those with no stain on their past. It matters not what the worth of a man is if there is a blemish against his name which nothing can erase.’
