'But few who will say it so clearly,' said Gresham with immense cheerfulness. 'How strange, yet how admirable, that from dislike can come honesty. Now we know each other.'
'You will never know me,' said Cecil. *Nor you me,' said Gresham, 'but we can both know enough to get by.'
'Why did you come here tonight?'
'To see if it was you who tried to have me killed.'
'And have you?'
'Our meeting has prompted interesting thoughts,' said Gresham, smiling, relaxed now. 'And there is something you could do as a gesture of goodwill.'
Cecil shifted uneasily in his seat. Was it physical pain, or mental uncertainty?
Tou talk of goodwill after making bizarre threats against me?'
'It was rumoured before I left that there was to be a diplomatic mission to the Duke of Parma, to see if peace could be negotiated between Spain and England. Has it happened?' Gresham asked.
‘You are well informed,' said Cecil. It was actually George who had been well informed, but Gresham saw no reason for Cecil to know that. 'No, the mission has not yet taken place. It will not do so for some while.'
'The rumour also had it that you were to be a member of this mission. I need to accompany it. Your influence in allowing that to happen would be helpful.'
‘I would have thought Sir Francis Walsingham's influence was sufficient to ensure you your passport? Why not approach him?'
'I may well do so. Yet his influence is not necessarily so massive as to resist an objection from, say, Lord Burghley. That same man who might seek to oppose my presence on this mission in the face of, say, an objection from his son.'
'I repeat, you have just threatened to kill or maim my fiancee,' said Cecil, a vicious anger still in his voice, 'and now you are asking for my help. Do you not recognise a certain irony in your request?'
'I prefer to think of it as pragmatism,' said Gresham. 'You would happily kill me without a moment's thought if I stood in your way. I reciprocate the gesture. The pragmatism comes in because all your climbing of the greasy pole at Court comes to nothing if our country collapses to an invasion and Spain rules in London. My presence on the diplomatic mission might help avert that.'
'And how can I be certain that you work for England, and not Spain? How can I be certain that letter you say was forged was not genuine?'
'You can't. But if I was a spy you would have an excellent chance to catch me out in the close company we would be forced to keep on such an expedition.'
'And what would you do on such a mission? I do not relish one of our members being caught spying when we are in effect in enemy country. I care not if you lose your life, but it would be a sadness if in losing your own life you threatened the lives of the others on the mission.'
'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.
