Ruled Britannia

'Would you liefer see Tom dead?' Shakespeare asked.

'I'd liefer see him playing,' Burbage said.

'Tell me he is not of the Romish persuasion, and have your wish.'

With another sigh, Burbage shook his head. 'I cannot, for he is.' He set his meaty hand on Shakespeare's shoulder. 'But hear me, Will. Hear me well.'

'I am your servant,' Shakespeare said.

'Buzz, buzz!' Burbage said scornfully. 'Go to, Will. I dance to your piping now, and well we both know't.'

'Would it were my piping, my friend, for my feet too tread its measures.'

'The which brings me back to what I'd tell you. Mark my words, now; mark 'em well. The purpose you undertake is dangerous, the friends you have uncertain, the time itself unsorted, and your whole plot too light, for the counterpoise of so great an opposition.'

'Say you so?' Shakespeare asked. 'Say you so?'

'Marry, I do.'

Shakespeare wished he could fly into a great temper. I say unto you, you are a shallow cowardly hind, and you lie, he wanted to shout. By the Lord our plot is as good a plot as ever was laid, our friends true and constant! A good plot, good friends, and full of expectation! A good plot, very good friends! What a frosty-spirited rogue are you!

He wanted to say all that, and more besides. He wanted to, but could not. 'What of't?' he said, and did not try to hide his own bitterness. 'We go forward e'en so-forward, or to the Spaniards. There's your choice, and none other.'

Burbage's eyes had the look of a fox's as the hounds closed in. 'Damn you, Will.'

'Anon,' Shakespeare said, understanding Burbage's hunted expression all too well-he'd felt hunted himself for months. 'But, for now, you'll see to Tom?'

'I'll do't,' Burbage said. Forward, Shakespeare thought

.

'Now here is an interesting bit of business.' Captain Baltasar Guzman held up a sheet of paper.

Lope de Vega hated it when his superior did that. It was always for effect; GuzmA?n never let him actually read the papers he displayed. And Lope was in a testy mood anyhow, for his visit to Sir Edmund Tilney had yielded exactly nothing useful about Geoffrey Martin and whoever had slain him. With such patience as he could muster, de Vega said, 'Please tell me more, sir.'

'Well, Senior Lieutenant, you will know better than I how the pretty boy actors in these English theatrical companies draw sodomites as a bowl of honey draws flies,' GuzmA?n said.

'Oh, yes, sir,' Lope agreed. 'It is a scandal, a shame, and a disgrace.'

Captain Guzman waved the paper. 'We now have leave to go after one of these wicked fellows, and an important one, too.'

'Ah?' de Vega said. 'Who?' If it turned out to be Christopher Marlowe, he would go after the English poet with a heavy heart. Marlowe didn't hide that he loved boys. Far from hiding it, in fact, he flaunted it.

He was so blatant about his leanings, Lope sometimes wondered if part of him wanted to be caught and punished. Whatever that part wanted, the rest of him would not care to be humiliated and then executed.

But GuzmA?n said, 'A certain Anthony Bacon. Do you know the name?'

' Madre de Dios, I should hope so!' Lope exclaimed. 'The older brother of Francis, the nephew of Lord Burghley. How did you learn that such a man favored this dreadful vice?' How is it that you can think of arresting such an important man, with such prominent connections, for sodomy? was what he really meant. The rich and the powerful often got away with what would ruin someone ordinary.

But not here?

Not here. Guzman answered, 'Oh, this Bacon's habits are not in doubt. Even as long ago as 1586, when he was an English spy in France, he debauched one of his young servants. He was lucky the French court was full of perverts'-his lip curled-'or he would have suffered more than he did.'

'We aren't arresting him for what happened in France while Elizabeth was still Queen of England, are we?' Lope asked. Even for a charge as heinous as sodomy, that might go too far.

But Baltasar GuzmA?n shook his head. 'By no means, Senior Lieutenant. He has taken up with one of the boy actors in a company, and there can be no doubt he's stuck it in as far as it would go.'

Do you know, do you have the faintest idea, what's being said of you and Enrique? Lope wondered. He shook his head. Guzman couldn't possibly. He couldn't speak with such disgusted relish about what Anthony Bacon had done if he'd done the like himself, or if he knew people thought he'd done the like. Lope had seen good acting in the Spanish theatre, and in the English, but nothing to compare to GuzmA?n's performance, if performance it were.

'A question, your Excellency?' de Vega asked. Captain GuzmA?n nodded. Lope went on, 'How is it that this falls to us and not to the English Inquisition? Bacon has committed the sin of buggery, not treason against Isabella and Albert or rebellion against his Most Catholic Majesty.'

'As it happens, Don Diego Flores de Valdas referred the matter to us,' GuzmA?n replied. 'It may yet come down to treason. Remember-not so long ago, your precious Shakespeare visited the house Anthony and Francis Bacon share. Why? We still don't know. We have no idea. But if we take Bacon and squeeze him till-'

'Squeeze him till the grease runs out of him,' Lope broke in. Captain GuzmA?n looked blank. Lope explained: ' Bacon, in English, means the same as tocino in Spanish.'

'Does it?' Guzman's smile was forced. 'Shall we stick to the business at hand? If we take Bacon and squeeze him, we may finally find out why Shakespeare was there-and from that, who knows where we might go? If it were up to me, Burghley would have lost his head with the rest of Elizabeth's chief officers.'

'King Philip ordered otherwise,' de Vega said. His superior grimaced, but that was an argument no one could oppose.

GuzmA?n said, 'We will go seize Bacon, then. We will seize him, and we will see how he fries.' He waited for Lope to laugh. Lope dutifully did, even if he'd made the joke first.

Half an hour later, the two of them rode hotspur out of London towards Westminster at the head of a troop of Spanish cavalrymen. They had passed through Ludgate and were trotting west along Fleet Street when Lope suddenly whipped his head around. 'What is it?' asked Baltasar Guzman, who missed very little.

'I thought that fellow walking back towards London, the one who scrambled off the road to get out of our way, was Shakespeare,' de Vega answered. 'Is it worth our while to stop and find out?'

GuzmA?n considered, then shook his head. 'No. Even if it was, he could have too many good reasons, reasons that have nothing to do with the Bacons' house, for being on this side of London. Walking in his own city is not evidence of anything, and neither is getting out of the way of cavalrymen.'

' Muy bien,' Lope said. 'I would have used these arguments with you, but if you hadn't been persuaded. ' He shrugged. 'You are the captain.'

'Yes. I am.' Guzman bared his teeth in a hunter's grin. 'And now I want a taste of Bacon-of tocino, eh?' Now he wouldn't leave the pun alone.

The troop of horsemen pounded up Drury Lane. Westminster seemed to Lope a different world from London: less crowded, with far bigger, far grander homes, homes that would have done credit to a Spanish nobleman. Only the abominable weather reminded him in which kingdom he dwelt.

Captain Guzman reined in. He pointed to a particularly splendid half-timbered house. 'That one,' he said. 'Senior Lieutenant de Vega, you will interpret for us.'

'I am at your service, your Excellency.' Lope dismounted.

So did Guzman and the cavalrymen. A few of the latter held horses for the rest. The others drew swords and pistols and advanced on the estate behind the two officers. 'I hope the heretics inside put up a fight and give us an excuse to sack the place,' a trooper said hungrily. 'God cover my arse with boils if you couldn't bring away a year's pay without half trying.' A couple of other men growled greedy agreement.

'By God, if they give us any trouble, we will sack them,' Captain GuzmA?n declared. 'They're only Englishmen. They have no business standing in our way. They have no