confusion along the entire length of the harbour.
Men ran with buckets of water as they feebly attempted to put out the conflagration at the far end of the row of buildings lining the edge of the harbour nearest to the town. Foot soldiers raced to oversee the Puental and to keep guard at the end of the harbour in case the Tempest sent landing parties. Lining the shore, watchmen peered into the dark in case more galleons were on their way. Across the length of the harbour, merchants bellowed their con tern in a babble of conflicting tongues-French, Dutch, Spanish, and a variety of dialects from the North African coast just across the straits.
'Look at it-it is madness,' Mayhew said approvingly.
'We asked Captain Courtenay for cover to mask our arrival in Cadiz. I think he served us proud,' Will agreed. He scanned the hectic mass of bodies. 'Now, where is our man?'
In the shadows of one of the many alleys linking the town's large plazas stood a man wearing a wide- brimmed hat pulled low over his face. The glare of the fire revealed the lower half to be clean-shaven, and that he carried a walking stick with a handle carved into the shape of a swan.
'There,' Will said. 'Stay here. I will make the introductions in case there is a problem.' Edging around the sacks, he waited for the fast flow of townsfolk to pass before darting into the alleyway.
'De Groot?' Will asked.
Eyeing Will's sodden clothes, the man nodded. 'You found the rope easily?' He spoke English with a strong Dutch inflection.
'You did well.'
'I ran here as soon as I heard the trumpet signal.' He glanced back up the alley. 'This way, I think. We must move away from the harbour. There are men of many nations here, but wet Englishmen will soon draw attention.'
More gunfire from the Tempest crashed against the far end of the harbour followed by a futile return of fire from the battery. In the confusion that followed, Will summoned his men. But as they sprinted towards the alley, a cry rang out from one of the watchmen, who had by chance been looking back towards the fort.
'Quickly,' de Groot urged from the depths of the alley. 'I cannot be seen or my use here will be over.' He ran off into the dark.
Cursing, Will saw four foot soldiers give pursuit as Carpenter, Mayhew, and Launceston darted into the alley. The route was steep and wound round so tightly it was impossible to see more than ten feet ahead or behind. As they moved away from the harbour, the sound of gunfire became muffled, replaced by the crack of their boots on the cobbles and the intermittent tolling of the fort bell signalling the alarm.
As they ran, Will made a chopping motion with his hand, and the others melted quickly into doorways on either side. Will ducked behind a water barrel and waited until the foot soldiers neared. As the first passed him, he lunged up with his knife and thrust it straight into the soldier's throat. A gout of blood gushed onto the cobbles.
The other soldiers cried out in alarm as the first pitched forwards, gurgling and clutching at his throat. Will instantly engaged the second with his sword, while Mayhew and Carpenter took on the third soldier and Launceston slit the throat of the final one with a silent, fluid movement. The soldiers were poorly trained and overweight. Will ran his opponent through in an instant. By the time he had cleaned his blade, all the soldiers were dead.
De Groot emerged from the dark further up the alley and beckoned them on. Within five minutes they were in de Groot's rented house on the Plaza de San Francisco overlooking the San Francisco Church and Convent, the white walls glowing in the light of lanterns strung along the eaves of the red-tiled roof, and in the branches of the sprawling orchard beside it.
De Groot, a merchant who plied his trade between Flanders and Spain, was a dour man who had been recruited by Walsingham three years before. His heavy-lidded eyes and hollow cheeks gave him a cadaverous air, but he was friendly enough. He provided Will and the others with clean clothes that would allow them to blend in, and then brought them hot food and drink.
'There is jubilation across all Spain at the moment,' he told them. 'Word has spread far and wide of the size of the Armada and the martial power it wields. The common man believes England already defeated.'
'They may be correct,' Mayhew muttered before Carpenter fixed him with a contemptuous glare.
'Our job here is to make sure the Spanish are thwarted,' Will said. 'We can do nothing about the Armada, but we may still upset their wider plans.'
'And what are those wider plans?' de Groot asked, as he rapidly refilled Mayhew's goblet. He caught Will's eye and nodded. 'Questions for another time.'
After Reidheid's betrayal in Edinburgh, Will was not about to trust any other spy quickly. Shifting allegiances were, it seemed, as common to the fraternity as an early death.
'We seek information on a ship that would have dropped anchor within the last few days,' Will said. 'Among its passengers would be a Spanish nobleman, lion Alanzo de las Posadas.'
'Yes, yes, I know the ship.' De Groot nodded enthusiastically. 'There was talk of it in the taverns along the harbour. It dropped anchor in the morning, but a boat containing several passengers was not sent ashore until the dark had fallen. One of them was indeed lion Alanzo. He spent a while trying to procure several carriages to take him to Seville.'
'Then that is our destination,' Will said.
'One other thing that may or may not be of importance,' de Groot continued. 'He was insistent that before he left he should call at both the San Francisco Convent and at the cathedral.'
Carpenter snorted. 'Saying his prayers to clear the stain upon his soul.'
'The cathedral perhaps, but at a convent?' At the window, Will peered through the jumble of buildings falling down the slope towards the harbour, where he could make out the Tempest in the light of the burning debris in the water. Now they were safely ashore, Captain Courtenay had ended his barrage and was sailing back out to open water. He tried not to think of Grace and what she might be enduring, but the unbidden thoughts fell across him like a shadow.
'We do not let small things pass us by, for greater things may lie behind them,' he said. 'But even if there is nothing more to it, a man's religion in this world may well be a weakness we can exploit to our own use.'
CHAPTER 33
ill crept along the top of the whitewashed wall like a cat, stalking the woman who hummed a lilting melody as she took her constitutional in the orchard. Dappled by the sunlight through the leaves, her head was bowed in reflection, her white cloak caught by the cooling breeze. A glance back to the convent revealed they were alone.
Dropping silently to the grass, Will darted through the trees, keeping enough cover between him and the nun in case she looked back. It was a bright, glassy morning, shortly after dawn, already warm, and likely to get a great deal hotter.
De Groot had worked wonders in the hours of darkness. The spy admitted openly that he worked for gold and nothing more, not love of England, nor hatred of Spain. Walsingham paid him an annual stipend to pass on all the information he gained along the trade routes, and every year he threatened to go over to the Spanish, only to be bought back to the cause. It was a game that all sides understood. Will promised him a significant one-off payment, and in the early hours he had sent the local girl who cleaned his house to the convent under the pretence of arranging a donation from de Groot. After the nuns had finished their morning prayers just before first light, the girl spent an hour casually chatting until she had gathered the information Will required.
The nun never heard him until his hand was clamped across her mouth and another pinned her arms to her sides as he bundled her to the rear wall of the orchard. She struggled and tried to cry out, but he was too strong.
