S. Parris - Treachery

‘Oh, God,’ I say, staring at Drake.

‘What is it, Bruno?’ He catches the alarm in my tone.

‘The other night — Dom Antonio recognised Gilbert. He knew they had met before. Gilbert denied it, quite fiercely — said Dom Antonio must be confused by all his travels. In the end Dom Antonio couldn’t be certain and conceded he must be mistaken.’

‘I remember that,’ Drake says, anxiety flaring in his eyes.

‘What if Dom Antonio was right? Why would Gilbert deny it, unless they had met somewhere that would give away details he didn’t want people to know?’

Drake’s brow creases. ‘Gilbert has worked and studied in Europe, I know that much. He was clerk to the English Ambassador in Paris for a time last year — perhaps they met there.’

‘Wherever it was, there’s a reason Gilbert denied it. And he has already silenced two other people who could have exposed his secret.’

‘God’s blood. You think Dom Antonio is in danger?’ Drake’s face freezes. ‘But he has my own armed men with him.’

‘You said he wanted to look at the maps. If Gilbert has a key to your cabin, he might argue that they should leave the guards outside, for privacy. They could be alone there together. Gilbert would have his opportunity.’

Drake pauses while the possible scenarios play out behind his eyes. Then he gathers himself, breathes out — one short, sharp breath — and assumes the stance of a commander.

‘We must get back to the ship with all haste. Sir Philip — since Gilbert’s original plan was to go to church this evening, it may be that he had a meeting arranged. Take your armed men and hurry there — see if you can find anyone who might be a courier, expecting to meet him. Bring him for questioning if you do. Bruno — you and I will leave immediately.’

Lady Drake is just coming down the stairs as we hurtle along the passageway towards the front door.

‘Doctor Bruno! Marvellous news,’ she calls down, clapping her hands together. ‘Lady Arden is much recovered and is longing to see you.’

‘Not now, Elizabeth,’ Drake shouts, flinging the door open. ‘Stay here until we return.’

‘Excellent — give her my good wishes,’ I call back, without stopping, but it comes out as a croak. My throat is dry with fear; I can only hope we are not too late.

‘I do not want to believe it, Bruno, and yet it seems I must.’ The rowboat crests another wave and drops, flinging spray into our faces. Drake turns to the man at the oars. ‘Damn it, man, can you not go any faster?’

‘I’m sorry, Sir Francis, I’m doing my best — the wind’s against us this evening.’

‘Forgive me — I know.’ Drake leans forward over the prow of the boat, as if this might help him arrive sooner. ‘It’s just that I must reach my ship urgently. Keep at it — I will see you rewarded.’

The man grunts and lowers his head, his muscled shoulders straining into each stroke of the blades.

‘I know I have been wrong with the others, sir,’ I say, ‘but everything adds up now. I only pray that we reach the ship in time.’

He beckons me closer and I shift up on the seat to hear him better as he lowers his voice so the boatman cannot hear.

‘But Gilbert could not kill Dom Antonio in my cabin and make it look like anything but murder, and himself the killer?’ he asks. ‘He has been so careful to try and disguise the other deaths. Surely he would not risk giving himself away now.’

‘It depends how desperate he is,’ I say. The wind whips my words away and Drake has to lean in to hear me, so close that I feel his hair brush my forehead. ‘And where they met — if he fears Dom Antonio could incriminate him, he may grow reckless, especially if he thinks this is his one chance to be alone with him, away from the guards. As for the means …’ I pause to push my hair out of my eyes, though the wind snaps it straight back. ‘I don’t suppose he intends to cut Dom Antonio’s throat in your cabin. But something in a glass of wine — some slow-acting poison, that would take effect later? That could easily be done. Dom Antonio would not suspect a thing.’

‘Where would Gilbert get any such poison at short notice?’

I shrug. ‘No one has cleared out Jonas’s quarters, I imagine? There is a whole trunk of potential poisons on board. Gilbert is an educated man — I would not put it past him to have read up on physick.’

Drake nods, taking it in.

‘And you gave him a key to your cabin?’ I ask.

‘He had one already, so that he can work there if I am occupied elsewhere. He can only open the main door and the chest where my papers and charts are kept — everything else of value is locked away. I saw no harm in it.’ He rubs his knuckles into the hollow between his eyes. ‘I trusted him, God damn it!’ He lifts his head and looks at me. ‘My brother berates me for investing my faith too quickly in my men. He begs me to remember the price on my head. But I pride myself on being a good judge of character. Pride that comes before a fall, it seems.’ He presses his lips together. ‘Dom Antonio and I fought together, some years ago. I led a force that was supposed to help him recapture the Portuguese throne. Philip of Spain was too strong — all we managed to take were the Azores. That poor man has been running from Spanish assassins for as long as I have — if anything should happen to him aboard my ship, at the hands of my own clerk, Her Majesty would-’ He breaks off; perhaps he cannot even imagine how the Queen would respond. ‘Gilbert came to me from Walsingham, you know. I thought I could trust him.’ He turns to me, his expression somewhere between pleading and outrage. It is not clear if he means Gilbert or Walsingham.

‘Walsingham has been wrong before,’ I say, quietly, tucking my chin down into my collar. I will not forget my own experience at the hands of a man Walsingham had also trusted, mistakenly.

Drake shakes his head and sinks into silence. I count every wave, every slice of the blades through the water, every breath, every heartbeat. The boatman is clearly working at the limit of his strength, and still the journey seems to take half a lifetime. By the time we bump up against the hull of the Elizabeth and Drake shouts for a ladder, I begin to dread every buffet of the waves, every moment’s delay.

Captain Fenner hurries across the main deck as soon as he sees Drake climbing aboard.

‘Captain-General — we did not expect you back so soon. Is everything all right?’

‘Where is Dom Antonio?’ Once again, I admire Drake’s ability not to let his fear show in his demeanour. His voice is brusque, but you would never suspect him of panicking.

‘In your cabin, with young Gilbert,’ Fenner says. ‘I showed him all the munitions when he arrived, then he said he wanted to look at the charts. They went off together and I went back to my duties. Shall I fetch-’

‘Thank you, Fenner.’ Drake places a hand on the captain’s arm. ‘Come, Bruno. You too, Fenner — we may have need of you.’

A suspicion of alarm crosses Fenner’s grizzled face, but he merely nods.

I follow Drake up the stairs to the captain’s cabin. Two armed guards flank the door. Drake greets them quietly.

‘Is the Portuguese inside?’

One of the guards nods. ‘With your clerk, sir. They told us to keep watch out here.’

Drake turns to me, dropping his voice. ‘We must proceed carefully. We do not want to startle him — he may do something rash if he thinks he is cornered.’

‘Does Gilbert carry a weapon?’ I ask.

‘Not to my knowledge.’ Drake grimaces. ‘But then it appears he does a great many things outside my knowledge, so that is no guarantee.’