of independence, he was alarmed at the prospect of being left alone.
“Gone where?” Samuel asked, his tone sharp, glancing from me to his master.
“I have no other means to send a message to London,” I said, ignoring him and turning to Harry. “In any case, I will be staying here with you. I understand those were the terms on which I was released?”
“You?” Harry looked doubtful. I wondered again how close he was to Samuel and how much he might know of his servant’s deceit, but there was no time to worry about that now; I had no choice other than to confide in Harry. There was no one else. “Can you light a stove and cook a meal? Can you lay out my clothes of a morning?”
I smiled in a manner which I hope inspired confidence.
“I can try any task, if you instruct me.”
“A philosopher to make my breakfast. There’s a fine thing.” Harry turned again to Samuel and a look passed between them that I could not read. “Well, I suppose we have no choice. We are all Walsingham’s servants, and it appears your recklessness in blundering about this town with no regard for the sensitivities of position and authority has landed you in a bind that only Master Secretary can get you out of.”
I lowered my head and took his reproach without protest; there would be time enough to explain myself to Harry. For now, as I looked at my boots, I fought against a smirk of triumph at the prospect of Samuel’s imminent departure.
“I thank you both.” Raising my head, I shone the full beam of my most sincere smile at Samuel. “You may be sure Sir Francis will reward you for your trouble.”
“Oh, I shall tell him you have promised me so on his behalf,” he replied softly, his smile dripping sarcasm.
“I will return to the inn for my belongings and come back with the letter I need Samuel to take,” I said. “The dean has asked me to be present at Evensong tonight, Harry, and to accompany you to his table for supper.”
Harry grunted.
“Well, it won’t do any harm for folks to see you showing a bit of Christian piety,” he muttered. “God alone knows what they are saying about you in the town. And what they will say of me for giving you lodging.”
“My name will be cleared at the assizes,” I said.
“Maybe.” He did not sound convinced. “But mud sticks. Come back with your things, then, and make yourself comfortable. Samuel can ready his horse.”
“I hope he is a fast horse,” I said, with a meaningful look at Samuel to let him know I was in earnest.
“He’s the only horse we have, so you’ll have to make do,” Harry snapped back, and his tone warned me not to overstep the mark. I was fortunate that he was willing to part with Samuel at all.
I wolfed down the bread so quickly that I could not swallow it fast enough and it lodged like a ball in my upper chest; I had to sip at the beer to try and shift it, pain shooting into my dry throat as I doubled over. Samuel watched me with contempt for a few moments before stalking from the room in silence.
“There is much I need to say to you,” I told Harry, when I had recovered enough to speak.
“Take your time. Collect your things, and you and I shall talk,” he said. “You may as well bring your horse— there is stabling here and Samuel’s will be out. Save you paying at the inn.” This time there was a kinder note in his voice. My earlier doubts began to recede and I dared to hope that I might yet be able to confide in Harry and find him ready with some advice. My spell in the gaol and my appearance before the mayor, when I had been so relieved to see the dean and even Samuel, had served to remind me of how alone I was in Canterbury, and how vulnerable. There was no question in my mind that Langworth and Sykes between them had contrived to have me arrested to stop me asking questions. Their plan had been thwarted by Harry’s willingness to stand bail and the dean’s testimony, and I imagined they would not be pleased by the fact that I was once more abroad in the city. I would have to keep my wits about me; if the process of the law did not serve their purpose in removing me, there was every chance they might decide to bypass it. After all, I had seen what they did to William Fitch, even if I did not yet know which of them had done it.
Chapter 12
A hot wind whipped up the dust in the streets as I made my way through the Buttermarket and on towards the Cheker. Pieces of straw eddied in the air and goodwives clasped their coifs to their heads. After the heavy stillness of the past days the breeze should have been welcome, but it was a sickly wind, humid and pregnant with the promise of a storm. Clouds bore down overhead as if in a basin that threatens to spill over at any moment.
I attracted glances from passersby as I walked but I kept my head down and ignored them, my thoughts once again turning to Sophia. My whole purpose in coming here had been to save her from the taint of murder and now I was faced with the same fate myself. Though I was not yet seriously afraid—I had a quick wit and powerful patrons, which was more than most of those wretches in the gaol could claim—I was nevertheless uncomfortably aware that I was a long way from the protection of Walsingham here, and that local justice was notoriously corrupt. I had no doubt that Samuel would do his best to delay or lose my message altogether, with the aim that I might be convicted before any help could come from Walsingham. My hope lay entirely in the message I had sent to Sidney with the weavers. I knew well enough from my years as a fugitive that only a fool puts his faith in the fact of his innocence, especially if he is a foreigner.
My heart was heavy as I entered the inn yard. Sophia was just a few streets away, yet it seemed impossible for me to see her until this business was all over, my innocence proved, and the real murderers brought to justice— if such a conclusion was even possible. As an accused man facing trial in a few days, my comings and goings would be noticed around the city; I could not risk visiting the weavers’ houses and drawing the people’s attention to them by so doing. I cursed quietly under my breath; Sophia was out of reach to me until I had found the killer—or killers —and all the while, I imagined Olivier at her side in that attic room, whispering his reassurances into her ear. Even if I were able to clear her name and my own in the assizes, would she not owe him almost as great a debt of gratitude by now?
The stable hands were busy across the yard and I was able to slip into the stall where my horse stood patiently chewing at his hay, his animal smell all the sharper in the heat, but strangely welcoming and wholesome after the foul stench of human waste I had endured in the gaol. He whickered softly at my approach and I laid my head against his neck for a moment as the full weight of my exhaustion began to seep through my body. My eyes drifted closed; I could have sunk to the floor right there and slept, but I caught the scratch of a broom on the cobbles in the yard and roused myself. I felt behind the straw bale and for an awful moment my stomach lurched as I feared the purse had been taken. But more frantic searching revealed that it had only slipped farther down; perhaps the horse had shifted the bales with its movements. I almost wept with relief as I drew it out and tucked it inside my breeches.
Before I reached the door of the inn, one of the stableboys caught sight of me and rushed inside, so that Marina was already waiting for me on the stairs as I entered. She came forward with her arms outstretched as if to embrace me, but drew back at the last minute at the smell, for which I was grateful.
“I knew they would have made a mistake,” she cried, though her face was still anxious. “I was going to give it until tomorrow morning before I let your room to another.”
“That was good of you,” I said. “A whole day.”
“This isn’t an almshouse.” She folded her arms and looked me up and down. “I sent a boy with your message to Doctor Robinson—was that how they let you go?”
“It must have been.” I smiled then, with genuine gratitude. As I had guessed, the constable would have let me rot until the assizes without ever taking word to Harry. I wondered if he was in Langworth’s pay as well. On an impulse, I took her hand between mine and kissed it extravagantly. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
Marina giggled like a girl and gave me a slow, lewd wink. “I daresay we’ll think of something. You’ll be wanting to clean up, I suppose?”
“I would like that more than anything.”
She nodded. “And the rest of my guests will thank you for it, too. I’ll have some hot water fetched up to your room, and fresh towels. Bring those clothes down and I’ll give them to the laundress—with luck she can have them drying by this evening. We’ll have a storm tonight for sure.”
“Thank you. Oh, and—may I have another orange?”
