‘I have no wish to inconvenience you, sir,’ I said, darting a glance at Paget. ‘I will gladly be on my way, if—’ I did not manage to finish the sentence; tiredness, or perhaps hunger or the effects of the blow to my head brought on a wave of dizziness that caused my legs to buckle, so that I stumbled back and almost lost my footing. Paget dived forward and thrust a stool under me.
‘I think Doctor Bruno needs food and rest, Ambassador,’ Paget said smoothly, as if he were accustomed to taking charge.
‘Of course,’ the ambassador said, with a hint of impatience. ‘No inconvenience at all. Geoffrey!’ He turned to the servant standing discreetly in the doorway. ‘Light a fire in the blue chamber. Warm some wine and stew for our guest and have the girl heat some water. Doctor Bruno—’ he stepped forward and held out a hand, then thought better of touching me, withdrew it and offered an awkward smile instead. ‘I am Sir Edward Stafford. It has long been my hope that I would one day welcome you to Her Majesty’s embassy as my guest, though I confess I had pictured more orthodox circumstances. I am truly sorry you should have been subjected to such an ordeal tonight. But – well, these are unruly times. I pray you take your ease for now and when you are rested we will speak further. Do not hesitate to ask my steward, Geoffrey, if you have need of anything. I bid you good night.’ He paused in the doorway. ‘I mean no offence, but I would prefer if you did not come any further into the house until you have washed and removed your clothes. They may carry some pestilence from the gaol. Geoffrey – fetch Doctor Bruno a robe and take his things outside.’
‘I can dispose of them on my way out,’ Paget offered, ever helpful. I wrapped my arms tighter around my chest and felt the crackle of the papers inside my doublet. Was that why everyone was so solicitous to relieve me of my clothes – so that they could search me?
‘I think I can manage to undress myself. I thank you, gentlemen,’ I added, to soften the reproach.
Paget exchanged a glance with Stafford. ‘As you wish. You will have the opportunity to thank me tomorrow, Bruno. Give you good night.’ He gave a cursory bow to the room in general and turned as if to leave.
‘Paget. A word, before you go.’ Stafford nodded towards the door into the house. ‘Wait in my study, would you?’
I noticed Paget’s face twitch at this peremptory tone, but he merely inclined his head and did as he was asked, closing the door behind him. Stafford rubbed the back of his hand across his forehead. He seemed relieved that Paget had gone. I had heard a little about the English ambassador from Walsingham, but he was younger than I had expected, no more than mid-thirties, though his worn expression and fussy mannerisms lent him the look of a middle-aged academic. He peered at me now as if I were yet another problem to be solved.
‘I have letters for you,’ he said, lowering his voice.
My heart leapt. ‘From London?’
He answered with a curt nod. ‘They will keep until tomorrow. We will discuss it all then. Give you good night, Doctor Bruno.’
‘Thank you, sir. For everything.’ I was so tired now I could barely raise my head, but I knew I could not afford to let my guard slip. ‘And do not fear – I will reimburse you as soon as I can.’
He frowned. ‘For what?’
‘What you paid in bail.’
He shook his head. ‘That was none of my doing. If money was paid out, you must take that up with Paget.’
Now it was my turn to look confused. ‘But why would—’
He held up a hand to stop me. ‘All I know is that a fortnight ago, when these letters arrived, I asked him to find you and deliver the instruction to call on me, at Walsingham’s behest. I did not ask him to bring you to my house in the middle of the night smelling like a plague pit.’
‘I apologise for that. It would not have been my choice to arrive like this either.’
Stafford looked uncertain; he seemed about to speak further, when he glanced at the door and his jaw tightened. ‘If you will excuse me.’
I knew I had only a moment alone before the steward returned and demanded my clothes. I reached inside my doublet, drew out the pages I had taken from Frère Joseph’s cell and smoothed them flat on the floor as best I could. They were badly creased, and damp with sweat in places, but still legible. I pulled off my boots, rolled the papers together and stuffed them inside. I had just placed the boots by the hearth when the steward, Geoffrey, entered with a dark red woollen robe draped over his arm; in one hand he carried a large sack and in the other a silver tankard, steam rising from its surface. A young maidservant followed carrying a pail of water, her face drooping with fatigue. Geoffrey handed me the drink; I breathed in the scent of spiced wine, took a sip and felt its welcome warmth spread through me.
‘You may bathe in the scullery when the water is heated,’ he said, his tone civil but detached. ‘If you would put your clothes in the sack, I can take them out to the yard.’
‘They are good wool, made by English tailors,’ I said, unbuttoning my doublet one-handed. ‘Take them outside if you must, but do not destroy them. I will take them away with me tomorrow and have them laundered.’
‘I fear, sir, you will not be rid of that smell easily.’
‘Well, it is worth a try. And my boots I will keep with me.’
He looked doubtful. ‘I fear they may have
