S. Parris - Treachery

‘In what way?’

‘Like a man in the grip of fever. He kept saying they were at his heels, and pointing out into the night.’

‘Who was at his heels?’ Sidney says, leaning forward. Thomas glances at him with disdain.

‘Well, if he’d said, we might have a better idea of who to look for.’ He jabs a forefinger into the air. ‘He just kept pointing like a madman, like so, and saying “Do you not see him, Thomas Drake?” When I asked who, he opened his eyes very wide and said, “The Devil himself.”’

‘Did you notice anything about his eyes?’ I ask.

‘His eyes? It was dark, man,’ Thomas says. Then he seems to relent. ‘Though in that light they appeared very bloodshot, and the pupils dilated. The eyes of a drunken man, as you’d expect.’ He sucks in his cheeks. ‘It is strange. Dunne had his faults, but the bottle was not one of them. It had clearly gone to his head — he even started addressing me as his wife-’

‘God help her, if you are easily mistaken in looks,’ Sidney says. Thomas glares him into silence.

‘I helped him to his cabin. Told him to sleep it off. Just before we reached the door, he pointed ahead and said, “Martha, why have you brought that horse aboard this ship?” Then he vomited copiously all over the deck and his legs went from under him.’

‘We’ve all had nights like that,’ Sidney says.

‘Yes, it would be an amusing story, if he had not been found dead the next morning,’ Drake remarks, his face stern. Sidney looks chastened.

‘Between us, we laid him on the bed,’ Thomas says. ‘He seemed to fall asleep right away.’

‘And no one saw or spoke to him after he returned to his cabin? No one heard anything unusual? Though I suppose it would be difficult to ask too many questions.’ I rub the nail of my thumb along my jaw and think again that I must visit a barber soon.

‘ You ask a great many questions, Doctor Bruno,’ Thomas Drake mutters. ‘Anyone would think you were the coroner.’

Sir Francis regards me with shrewd eyes.

‘You perceive my problem exactly. Having given out that he died by his own hand, it becomes difficult then to press the men too closely as to what they saw or heard without arousing suspicion.’ He sighs, and pushes his glass away from him. ‘Already some are saying they want to leave while they still can, that this is now a doomed voyage. I have persuaded them to stay for now, but if it is presumed to be murder, it would be impossible to hold a crew together, each man looking at his fellows, wondering who among them is a killer. I must tread very carefully.’

‘But one of them is a killer, so you believe,’ Sidney says, a touch of impatience in his tone. ‘So you must find him, or risk him killing again.’

‘Thank you, Sir Philip,’ Drake says, with impeccable politeness, ‘but the situation is perhaps more complicated than you understand. In any case, be thankful it is not a problem that need disturb your sleep. You will have your hands full with Dom Antonio. The poor man spends his life running from assassins already — I do not want him staying in Plymouth if there is another close at hand.’

I see in Sidney’s face the effort it takes not to respond to this courteous dismissal. I half expect him to stand up and announce his intention to travel with the fleet, but perhaps I should give him more credit; even he can see that this is not the time. I frown at the table, already assembling the evidence in my mind, querying the how and the why. In part I am curiously relieved by the news of this death; surely with this shadow cast over the voyage Sidney will not be able to elbow his way aboard and I will be given an easy excuse without having to defy him. And yet there is another part of my brain that snaps to attention at the prospect of an unexplained death to be riddled out — already I am picturing the scene on deck, the last movements of the dead man as he enters his cabin, the ship dark and still. I shake my head to silence the buzzing questions in my mind. This man’s death is not my business, as Drake has made clear enough.

As if he shared my thoughts, Sidney sits forward and points down the table to me.

‘Well, perhaps we are in a position to help you, Sir Francis. You are fortunate that my friend Bruno here is better than a hunting dog for following the scent of a killer. When it comes to unexplained murders, he is your man.’

He leans back, beaming at me. At this moment, I would willingly push him overboard.

Drake arches an eyebrow. ‘Is that so? A curious talent for a theologian.’

‘I fear Sir Philip exaggerates. On one or two occasions I have happened, by chance, to be-’

‘He will not boast of it because he is too modest,’ Sidney cuts in. ‘But I could tell you some tales — Bruno has a prodigious memory and the subtlest mind of any man alive for finding a murderer and bringing him to justice. Why, only last summer-’

‘Yes, but these are nautical matters, Sir Philip, and I have no experience of such things,’ I say quickly, before Sidney can volunteer me for the task. ‘Sir Francis is right — this sad business is not our concern.’

I expect Drake to concur, but instead he studies me carefully, still pulling at the point of his beard. ‘You are a scholar, though, Sir Philip assures me? You are familiar with ancient languages?’

I bow my head in acknowledgement, recalling what Sidney had told me about Drake’s interest in me. ‘Some. It would depend which you have in mind.’

‘That is the issue. I’m not sure.’

Thomas Drake raises his hand again. ‘Francis, I don’t think-’

‘Peace, Brother.’ Drake pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He looks up and smiles at the company, with some effort. ‘Well, gentlemen. I wish you could have found us in better cheer. I am sorry to have dampened your spirits, but I thought it best you be informed. I have faith that we will resolve this matter as soon as possible. And now, you will want to get ashore, I suppose, and settle for the night.’

Sidney looks from Drake to Knollys, confused. ‘But we have a berth aboard the Leicester .’

Knollys clears his throat.

‘Philip, I must make some adjustments to my crew now we are here and will need that cabin for another officer. I had thought, once we arrived in Plymouth, you would prefer the comfort of an inn.’

‘I will have some of the men row you ashore. They are expecting you at the sign of the Star — don’t worry, it’s the best inn in Plymouth. I should know — I own the lease.’ Drake laughs. ‘I stay there myself when I am in town. Mention my name and they will do whatever they can to oblige you.’ He rises, sweeping his smile over both of us, but his gaze rests on me, as if he is debating whether to say something more.

Sidney’s face is taut with the effort not to protest. ‘That is gracious of you,’ he says, in a clipped tone. ‘I wondered, Sir Francis, if we might speak privately before we leave?’

Thomas Drake looks set to step in; it seems that he has appointed himself his brother’s counsellor, monitoring what he says and to whom. Drake, who does not appear to require such careful protection, waves him back.

‘Of course. Perhaps we may take the air? I feel the need of it.’ He nods us towards the door. ‘Wait for me on the quarterdeck — I will join you shortly.’

Sidney hesitates, then bows in acceptance. Thomas Drake opens the door for us. True to their orders, the guards are standing a little way off, close enough to keep an eye on the captain’s quarters but not, you would suppose, near enough to follow the conversation within. I wonder if they have been in these positions throughout the meal. If it were me, I would have had my ear stuck to the door as soon as it was closed. I say as much to Sidney once Thomas is back inside.