The Enterprise of England (26 page)

‘No need to apologise,’ he said, ‘I like dogs and have two myself at home. How did you come by him, and why is he bandaged?’

I recounted a brief version of the dog’s history, saying only that his master was dead – not that he had been murdered – and that he had defended me when I was attacked.

The captain stroked the dog, running his ears through his fingers. ‘It seems he is worth keeping then. Ah, that reminds me.’ He got up and went to one of the cupboards set into the wall, which I saw was filled with papers and writing materials.

‘This came for you by messenger this morning from Amsterdam.’

I was surprised. Few people would have known that I would be taking ship here. It was a letter, merely inscribed ‘Dr Alvarez’, and closed by red wax which bore no imprint of a seal. Unconsciously I felt for the seal ring that I still wore around my neck but had had no occasion to use.
Because of the blizzard and our trip to the south, there had been no opportunity to send word to Phelippes.
I slid my thumbnail under the wax to lift it and unfolded the letter.

It was an unfamiliar hand. I looked down at the signature. ‘Hurst’.

The gentleman we both serve is in good health, thanks to the measures you recommended. He wishes me to convey his thanks and gratitude. The other person you know of has departed without leave, we know not where. The gentleman returns home shortly. I wish you a safe journey.

Hurst.

I beamed at Berden. ‘
Hurst has been successful. And it seems the Earl no longer thinks me a fool.’ I decided to say no more for the present.

The captain was still on his feet, bringing out a flagon of his good wine and three heavy-bottomed glasses.

‘Good news, then?’

‘Aye, good news.’ I folded the letter up again and slipped it inside my doublet. I was surprised at the pleasure it gave me. I was vindicated, and my actions had almost certainly saved the Earl from poison. He might not have died, but his health had not looked good to me, so even prompt medical attention might not have saved him if he had taken the belladonna.

We moved to our seats round the captain’s table and he poured out the wine. ‘We should reach Dover sometime tomorrow, depending on the weather.’

‘Good,’ I said. ‘I have had enough of the
Low Countries.’

They both laughed.

‘And what is the dog called?’ the captain asked.

In all this time the dog had remained nameless. The only person who might have known his name, the minister Dirck de Veen, had never mentioned it.

‘I will have to find him a name,’ I said. ‘I think it should be a Dutch name. Pieter?’

‘Jan?’ said Berden. ‘Lars?’

The dog ignored us.

‘I knew a captain called Rikki,’ said Thoms. ‘It’s usually a child’s nickname, but he was a big man, very brave.’

‘Rikki?’ I said. The dog looked up and thumped his tail. ‘He seems happy with that.’

‘It is short for Richard,’ said Thoms, ‘and that means “valiant”. From what you tell me, it is appropriate.’

I leaned down and caressed the dog’s head. ‘Rikki it shall be.’

Our return journey, compared with our outward one, was uneventful. Although it remained bitterly cold, there was no further snow but a steady following wind that carried us down the coast of the Low Countries until we came too near the Spanish-controlled ports and Thoms turned the ship toward England. The only concern was when we drew near the shifting shoals of the Goodwin Sands just as the early winter dark began to close down on the following day. In order to avoid any danger, Thoms steered the ship in a wide westward arc and the lookout perched at the top of the main mast sang out that he could see a Spanish ship in the distance, perhaps off Dunkerque. For a while there was an atmosphere of tension aboard, but by the time we had cleared the shoals the ship was lost to sight and we headed in toward Dover.

It was too late to start for
London, so we would stay one night in the castle, relieved to be back on English soil and among friends. Before we left the ship, Captain Thoms had presented us each with a pot of his sister’s honey. In return, I drew out the two lemons I had carried with me all the way and never used, for I had sent back no despatches, secret or otherwise. Despite their rough journeys, the lemons were unharmed, and I gave them to Thoms.

‘Two lemons for you,’ I said, ‘against the scurvy.’

He smiled. ‘I am grateful to you, Doctor. And see, I have also laid in a supply of dried scurvy grass.’ He opened the cupboard where he kept his wine and showed me a bundle of the dried herb.

‘Excellent,’ I said. ‘That will serve your men well in the winter, steeped in hot ale. In the summer you will be able to buy fresh.’

We bade him and his men farewell and led the horses over the ramp on to Dover quay. Whether they knew they were back in England, I could not tell, but they seemed pleased to leave the ship. Rikki trotted at my heels, already beginning to look stronger after a few days of good food.

Up at the castle we left the horses and the dog in the stable and reported to Sir Anthony Torrington, who told us, rather ungraciously, that we could be accommodated for one night. He was one of those men who like to give the impression that they are busier than they really are, so spent his time moving papers about on his desk and barely glancing up at us. One of the soldiers showed us to a room, where we would be obliged to share with two others this time, but both were on night guard duty, so after exchanging a few words of greeting we did not see them again.

I saw nothing of Andrew until we joined the soldiers for a meal and then we had little time to talk, for he too was about to go on duty.

‘It was successful, your time in the
Low Countries?’ he asked.

‘Successful, aye,’ I said. ‘And also eventful. I have come back with a dog and Berden with a knife injury, but we achieved what we were sent to do.’

‘Good. I may not see you again before you leave, but if I am in London, I will visit you at St Bartholomew’s.’

‘I did not think you would want to cross that threshold again,’ I said with a smile, ‘for it must hold bad memories.’

‘No, you are wrong. What I remember is being made well again.’

With that, he was off.

Before retiring for the night I called in at the stables and asked one of the grooms whether Rikki could stay with them until the morning.

‘I think he might not be welcomed in the soldiers’ quarters,’ I said.

‘He’ll do fine with us, Doctor. I fetched him a bone from the kitchen.’

Rikki looked up from the bone and scrambled to his feet, ready to follow me, but I shook my head and pointed down to the floor. ‘Wait there,’ I said. The dog could not be expected to understand the command or even my English words, but he seemed to understand the gesture. He returned to his bone and did not try to follow me when I left.

The next morning we set out for London. The snow was as heavy here as it had been in the Low Countries, so it was not until early afternoon on the third day that we reached Seething Lane. I hoped that Sir Francis would be here and not at his home in Barn Elms, for I had no wish to cross the river again and go riding about the Surrey countryside.

We went first to Phelippes’s office, which held a welcome warmth after our long cold ride from
Dover. I unwound the scarf from my head and hung my cloak on the back of my chair. Phelippes looked up from his papers.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he said, quite as if we had merely stepped out of the room and not been away for nearly a month.

‘Is Sir Francis in?’ Berden asked, easing off his cloak. His left arm was still somewhat stiff, though the injury was beginning to heal cleanly.

‘He is. I will take you to him.’

Arthur Gregory put his head round the door of his room and smiled at us, but said nothing. Then Phelippes led us along the hallway to Sir Francis’s office.

We spent the rest of the afternoon with Sir Francis, delivering
Leicester’s despatches and going over in detail exactly what we had done every day we had been away. He even questioned us about the situation at Dover Castle, the strength and morale of the garrison, what ships had been in the harbour, our general impression of military preparations. Berden was much better at answering his questions than I was, and I realised just how observant he had been.

When it came to
Amsterdam, however, everyone’s attention was focused on me. Sir Francis took me through my account twice, obliging me to recall every detail about Cornelius Parker, van Leyden, and the murder of Hans Viederman. He was also very attentive to the information given me by Ettore Añez.

‘We know of Parker, of course,’ he said, almost to himself.

I explained how I had gone to Leicester with my fears about a poison plot, and how he had laughed at me and thrown me out.

‘Luckily,’ I said, ‘Robert Hurst was in service with him there.’

Sir Francis nodded. As I had suspected, he already knew this. Had probably placed Hurst there himself. I told him how I had alerted Hurst and given him the evidence of the handkerchief.

‘When we reached our ship,’ I said, ‘a letter had just been sent to me there.’

I took out Hurst’s letter and handed it to Sir Francis, who read it quickly, then beamed at me.

‘Excellent, Kit. You have done just as you should. It seems His Lordship has now realised that what you suspected was true. He will be grateful to you.’

‘But van Leyden seems to have escaped, sir.’ To me this seemed more urgent.

‘For the moment, perhaps.’

‘And the murderer of Hans Viederman, will he ever be brought to justice?’

‘I doubt it, Kit. What is most important is that you have averted a plot to kill
England’s foremost Earl.’

I thought Hans’s death was important too, but realised I should not say so.

‘And this other man, Cornelius Parker?’ I said. ‘He is implicated. He deals with the Spanish.’

‘I will have him watched. If he proves dangerous, we will take measures against him.’

When at last Walsingham dismissed us, I bade Berden farewell, unsure whether I would see him again, which seemed strange after being in his company for most of the last month. I went down the backstairs and round to the stable yard, to collect Rikki and my belongings and to say my other farewells, to Hector. Many would think me foolish, but I always felt Hector could read my thoughts and knew that we were parting again. I closed my eyes and pressed my forehead against his neck, my hand buried in the thick hair of his mane. Stupid tears filled my eyes and I blotted them against his silky, ugly coat. I had come to love this horse, but I could not allow any of the grooms to see me crying over him. Neither Walsingham nor Phelippes had said anything to me about further code-breaking work, so I would have no excuse to see Hector again, though I would try to slip in here from time to time and give him an apple. With a final pat, I turned my back on him and fetched my satchel and knapsack from the tack room, where Rikki had stayed with the grooms.

‘It is good to see you again. Dr Alvarez,’ the head groom said as he handed me my belongings. ‘Was the snow as bad as this in the
Low Countries?’

It was no surprise to me that my destination was known to him. The last people Walsingham would be able to keep secrets from were his own servants.

‘Aye, it was,’ I said. ‘Worse, even. The canals were frozen, with people skating on them.’

‘I’ve heard of that. We used to skate on the pools in the
Kent marshes when I was a lad. Made our own skates out of mutton bones. Then when I first come to London – the winter of ’64 it was – the Thames froze and we sported on the river. Skating, dancing, tumblers, bear baiting. Even the Queen came and joined the fun. I wonder whether the river will ever freeze again.’

‘I’m in no hurry,’ I said. ‘This is cold enough for me.’

He laughed and patted the dog. ‘Been in the wars, has he?’

‘Aye. Took a sword slash meant for me.’

‘Did he!’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s a good dog to have by you.’

‘He is that. Come, Rikki.’

The dog scrambled to his feet at once. One thing I had learned in Amsterdam was that their word for ‘come’ sounded just like ours, so Rikki had no difficulty understanding me.

We set off across
London, which was as snowbound as Amsterdam, but here the snow was dirtier. London is a busier city and the horse traffic is heavier, so the snow, which must have last fallen some days ago, was badly stained. Somehow you do not notice the horse dung in the normal way of things, but when it lies on the pure white of snow it seems more offensive. As we walked across London, Rikki was distracted from time to time by irresistible smells, and also stopped several times to make the acquaintance of other dogs. I had never noticed before quite how many dogs roamed the streets, with or without owners.

When I reached Eastcheap I decided to stop at Jake Winterly’s leather shop. Bess greeted me with her usual delight and urged me to come upstairs for a meal, it being nearly supper time.

I shook my head. ‘I must go home to my father, Bess. I am just back from abroad, but you can see that I have acquired a dog.’