and whirled around. Grumbling and muttering, his men started to move away to the left, in the gap between the theatre and the ranks of Gresham's men.
The Gresham crowd burst out cheering, rushed forward and clapped the boat crew on the shoulders. The ten soldiers, still grim-faced, walked in and faced outwards, guarding against a surprise attack.
'Silence!' shouted Gresham, and there was a sudden hush. 'For God's sake, uncock those blunderbusses before we blow down the Globe or our own backsides off!' There was a ribald cheer. 'But keep them on half cock. We've got to get home.'
'Tom,' said Gresham to the man he had sent for the reinforcements. 'Well done. Any troubles?'
'Nearly fuckin' messed it up, sir, beggin' your pardon. First time I've 'ad unlimited money to get a ferry across, and the first bloody time there's not been a boat in sight. Got one in the end, though. Thank God. And 'e 'ardly charged. 'Ere's your money, sir.'
'Keep it,' said Gresham.
They marched rather than walked to the jetty. Gresham was half expecting to see his boat and the others that had brought the extra men from The House holed and smashed, half sunk in the mud, but to his surprise they were in one piece.
'What do you think that proves?' he asked Mannion.
'They were wild. Up for anything,' said Mannion. 'It's Sunday tomorrow. Apprentice boys ain't at work, free to cause any trouble they wants. Nothin' on at Court tomorrow. Lots o' the good and grand gone 'ome for the weekend. Fine time for a rebellion, if you asks me. That play. It's got to be a signal, ain't it?'
'Great strategist, my friend the Earl,' said Gresham. 'Don't just mount a rebellion; tell everyone you're doing it beforehand.'
'Hang on,' said Mannion. 'It ain't that stupid. Town's full o' stories of wild Welshmen comin' in at every gate, sleeping in alleys and in attics. Not easy to get the word to that lot. But if you makes your signal Richard the Second on at the Globe — well, London only ever knows two things for sure: if the Queen's in town, and what's on at the Globe. And the other theatres, o' course.'
Jane had been silent until now. She was wrapped in a vast cloak, and had seemed wrapped in her own thoughts.
'There's been talk of a thousand men at Essex's command, for months now. In St Paul's, that is.'
Gresham looked at her, and for a moment his astonishment defeated his self-control.
'You've known about this rumour? Why didn't you tell me?'
'Because I assumed if a stupid girl hanging round the bookstalls heard it, you, who've made it your job to pick up these rumours, were bound to have heard it too. And I didn't want to look a fool.'
'What else have you heard?' There was real urgency in his tone. 'This could be really important. This isn't a time for dignity, yours or mine. London's going to blow up any minute, and we're on the edge of civil war. I do know about the rumours. But what else had you heard?'
She was frightened by the intensity in his voice, the tension in his body.
'Only that people keep mentioning a man called Smith. A sheriff', someone meant to be very friendly with Essex. Is it militia he's meant to control? Something like that?'
'Sheriff Smith,' said Gresham. 'In theory he can call out a thousand militia men, though it's doubtful if the real figure he can call on is more than five hundred. And, yes, he's been seen visiting Essex House by night, and so people assume secretly. Though how anyone can think anything taking place in that house is a secret is beyond me.'
'And Essex will make him call out these men?'
'I think Essex will think he can call out these men. It's not quite the same thing.'
'This makes my head ache,' said Jane rather pathetically. 'Is nothing as it seems in your world? Is nothing ever what it seems to be on the surface? Is there always a double or a treble meaning?'
'It's usually not that simple,' said Gresham, looking at her fondly. Welcome to the real world, he thought. A world where after a time you may well yearn for the safety, security and above all the predictability of making preserves that need to be stored for winter and the supply of sheets and linen.
'So why won't you tell us?' They were within sight of the private jetty at The House. One of the other boats would go in first to land men to act as a guard if The House had been infiltrated or taken over.
'Because I believe Essex is about to be forced into a rebellion. And I believe he thinks he may have an extra thousand men to call on. But I don't believe, never have believed it's as simple as that. Yet what I believe is so fantastical, so much in the face of any evidence, so much my own invention based simply on a feeling I have… Do you know,' he said in the tone of a man facing a sudden revelation, 'I think I can't tell you for the same reason you didn't tell me about the thousand men. For fear of being laughed at. For fear of being proven wrong. Now isn't that strange?'
'I'd call it normal,' muttered Mannion.' 'Bout the only normal thing there is with you, I 'ave to say. Ever considered bein' normal? Might make a change for all of us.'
'So,' said Jane, snuggling down rather fearfully into the depths of her cloak, like a mouse burrowing down in cut straw and hoping the hawk had not seen her, 'civil war's about to be unleashed from a house a few yards along our street. We're facing pandemonium, chaos, a collapse of all civil order, bloodshed on the streets and probably rape, loot and pillage for those stupid enough to be caught out in it, and some of those trying to hide from it. What are you going to do about it?'
'I'm going to get captured by Essex, probably,' said Gresham.
'No you fuckin' ain't — beggin' your pardon, miss!' exploded Mannion.
'Essex is like a lit fuse. I can't stop that. I've just got this sense that he's finally going to blow. If that fuse reaches the powder, the country could be blown apart. And if my theory is correct, some-thing even more shameful may happen. And it'll mean I'll have broken my word. I have to see Essex! Even if I can't stop him, I have to try and limit the damage. To him, and to everyone.'
'You can't do that!' said Jane aghast. 'They'll kill you before you get to Essex! You saw them tonight. They'd have cheerfully ripped the flesh from our bones and eaten it as talk to us if you hadn't out-thought them!'
'She's right,' said Mannion. 'Least they'll do is rough you up, mebbe bad. Might get to Essex and find you ain't got a mouth or a tongue to speak to him with.', 'I know,' said Gresham. 'But sometimes you don't get choices.'
Chapter 13
February, 1601 London
Gresham had chosen to wear a nondescript cloak, and ride on a nag that was like countless hundreds of others in London. His hat was pulled low down over his brow.
Essex House was lit up like the Court on Twelfth Night, and among the noise and turmoil emanating from it there was the occasional ominous clang of metal on metal. The front entrance was heavily guarded, the back one as well and the river gate sealed.
On a whim, Gresham made Mannion ride with him west up the Strand. The Queen was at Whitehall, the proximity of the Palace as much a feature in the popularity of the Strand as London's prevailing wind direction.
'Nothing,' said Gresham. There were no extra guards, no sign in the far distance of any extra activity in the Palace. As they were turning round, there was a clatter of hooves behind them. The rider was in a hurry, four men in the Queen's livery with him. He had lost his hat, and his face was covered in mud.
'John! John Herbert!' Gresham called into the darkness. The man reined in, peering through the gloom. Secretary John Herbert was a prime administrator for the Privy Council. A decent man, he was typical of the hundreds who slaved away quietly and without much evident ambition to service the workings of government. Why was Secretary Herbert riding out at this time of night, when all decent men were tucked up in bed? It must be approaching midnight.
'Sir Henry!' Herbert was nervous, and his escort drew round him. 'What business have you riding in town on this of all nights?'
'I might ask the same of you,' said Gresham, 'except to say that I serve the Queen to whom I remain loyal. And you have nothing to fear from me.'
