Heresy (47 page)

“Pius Bishop, servant of the servants of God, in lasting memory of the matter: Regnans in excelsis,”
it began, and I almost dropped it, my hands had begun to shake so hard. I knew immediately what I held. This was perhaps the most damning paper an Englishman could possess: a copy of the papal bull issued by Pope Pius V some thirteen years ago, declaring Queen Elizabeth of England a heretic and containing her sentence of excommunication from the Catholic church. It ended by forbidding the queen’s subjects from recognising or obeying her as monarch; in those words, Pius had all but called for her to be overthrown. This was the papal bull that some of the more extreme Catholics in the European seminaries regarded as a licence to assassinate the queen in God’s name; even to bring a copy into this country was high treason and would earn the one who carried it a traitor’s death. I exhaled slowly, then froze as I thought I heard a scuffling sound outside the window. Had I walked directly into another trap? Whoever had ransacked this room had undoubtedly been looking for these papers, just as he had been searching for them in Mercer’s room, yet he had not found the chest’s secret compartment. Perhaps he was still watching the room and had seen
my candle. I held my breath and caught another distinct movement outside; then a high, unearthly scream rent the air, followed by another, a sound like nothing so much the shriek of an infant in pain, and I sank back to the floor, trembling and laughing at my own skittishness; it was only a pair of foxes fighting in the lane.

But the disturbance had brought me to my senses and reminded me that there was no time to waste. I tied the package of letters in one of the linen shirts from the chest, where I also found a travelling cloak that I hastily fastened around my shoulders, my own having been left at the Catherine Wheel. After some scrabbling I located an inkwell under the detritus on Norris’s desk and scribbled a hasty note to Sidney explaining where the items had been found and where I was going. This done, I reached inside my shirt and pulled out the sheet of paper with the copy of the code from Mercer’s almanac; this I folded inside the note to Sidney and sealed it as best I could with the sealing wax I had found in the drawer, though I had no ring to imprint on it. Then I grabbed the package, blew out the guttering candle, lifted the latch of the door to the stairwell and found it locked fast. Whoever had turned over the room in Norris’s and Allen’s absence must have let himself out afterward with his own key, unless he too had climbed in the window. Cursing again, I wrestled open the window above the desk that gave onto the courtyard, struggled onto the sill, encumbered now by my bandaged hand and the package I was trying to hold secure under the other arm, and eased myself through, unfortunately catching the cloak on the window latch at the last minute and falling through sideways with a thud and a muffled cry.

I lay quietly for a moment in the hope that my movements had gone unheard, looking up at the marbled sky above the roofs, already turning from velvet black to a dark indigo behind the streaks of cloud. If the sky was growing lighter, I needed to get this business done and hurry out of the city before dawn. It was too dark to make out the hands of the clock; the quadrangle remained blanketed in the stillness of the dead hours. Nothing stirred. Somewhere distant the fox cried again, and I was about to pick myself up
when I saw the lantern. It approached me at a quick pace from the buildings opposite, held up by a hooded figure who stopped, looming over me, and lowered the light to the level of my face.

“Well, well, Doctor Bruno. Helping yourself again? This is becoming quite a habit. What will your explanation be this time, I wonder? I can hardly wait to find out.”

I could not see Walter Slythurst’s face, but his malevolent smirk was apparent in every icy word.

S
lythurst tried to pull me up roughly by the arm, but I twisted away from him, curling my body around the package lest he try to wrench it from me.

“You will explain yourself this time, Bruno,” he said, anger replacing his usual cold sarcasm as I struggled against his grip and he tried to reach for the package. It was too much of a coincidence that he should be awake and dressed at this hour of the night; he must have been watching Norris’s room. “What is it you have taken from that room? I must see it. I demand you hand it over to me.” There was a hectic urgency in his voice and I saw genuine alarm in his eyes as he looked at the bundle in my hand. Could it be that he knew the importance of what I carried?

“Demand all you like,” I gasped, lashing out with my bandaged hand, “but I cannot give this to you.”

“I am a senior Fellow of this college,” Slythurst spluttered, trying to
keep his dignity, “and you must acknowledge my authority here. If you have taken something of value from a student’s room, it must be shown to the rector.” His tone was shrill with panic. Again he tried to snatch it; again I jerked away from him. I saw that he was determined to have it, and knew that it must not fall into the hands of the rector; both Slythurst and Underhill, I thought, were quite capable of destroying any evidence they thought might make things difficult for the college, and my discovery in Norris’s room would be the end of Underhill if it was made public. Slythurst studied me for a moment, his mouth set in a grim line, then he put his lantern on the ground and rushed at me with both hands free. He was surprisingly strong for a thin man and almost knocked me over as he lunged for the package, but I kicked backward while covering the bundle with both arms, my foot landing hard in his stomach. Winded, he doubled over, and before he could gather himself for his next assault, I threw a punch with my bandaged right hand, catching him on the chin and sending a bolt of pain up my arm. He stumbled back, then unexpectedly rallied and threw himself forward at my legs, knocking me to the ground. I heard my back crunch as I hit the flagstones and I tried to wrestle the package beneath me but he had the advantage of weight and quickly straddled me, pinning me to the ground. His face was almost in mine as he grasped the papers; I feared he would tear them as he tried to prise them from my grip and a sudden surge of anger redoubled my efforts to protect them.

“Hand those to me, Bruno—you are meddling in matters you do not understand,” he hissed through his teeth; I could smell his sour breath in my nostrils.

“You do not even know what I have here,” I spat back, clutching the papers to my chest.

“Whatever you have removed from a student’s room is the property of the college in that student’s absence,” he whispered, still pompous even as he scrabbled at my hands.

“Why do you want it so urgently?” I hissed back. “Because you didn’t
manage to find it when you turned the room upside down yourself? Do you always help yourself to keys while Cobbett is sleeping?”

“The question, Bruno,” he said, his nostrils flaring, “is how
you
knew what to look for and where to find it? It can only be that you are part of the papist conspiracy. But who would expect otherwise of an Italian? The rector is a gullible fool but I always saw through you.”

“It is you who is out of your depth,” I grunted back, bucking my back to try and throw him off balance, “but I am no papist and those who matter know that.”

“You
will
give me those papers, Bruno,” he panted, shifting his weight so that he was bending right over me, his nose almost touching mine, “or I will rouse the whole college. With three of our number newly dead, you will be locked up in the Castle prison before you have a chance to fashion your latest implausible tale.”

So Slythurst was
against
the papists, I thought, as his knee dug into my chest. Then why was he so keen to cover up evidence of the murders? What did he want with the papers I was now fighting to keep out of his grasp, that he had ransacked first Mercer’s and now Norris’s room in search of them? Whatever his purpose, I knew no one must have those papers but Walsingham, and that I must deliver them to Sidney by my own hand. As I felt the package begin to slide from my damaged hand, I mustered all the reserves of strength I had left. Clenching my jaw, I sat up as far as I could, my face so near to Slythurst’s that it might have seemed I was about to kiss him, then drew my head back slightly and jerked it sharply up, so that my forehead hit him squarely in the nose with a smart crack. He let out a howl, clutching both hands to his nose, and I took the opportunity to throw him off balance and roll away. A dull pain swam across my head and my vision blurred, but it seemed he had come off the worse; when he took his hand away I saw his nose was bleeding copiously. Above my head another light approached, swaying, accompanied by a slow shuffle of footsteps.

“What in God’s name—?” Cobbett began, lifting his lantern and stopping with a frown of amazement to see me and Slythurst brawling like drunkards in the middle of the quadrangle. I noticed that in his other hand he carried a sturdy stick. “Doctor Bruno? Lord, you look a right state. How did you get in?”

“Long story, Cobbett,” I said, hobbling to my feet. “I need your help.”

“Seize him, Cobbett!” Slythurst cried, the words muffled by the hand still clamped to his broken nose. “He has stolen property—as a Fellow of this college, I order you to apprehend him!”

Cobbett looked from Slythurst to me with some concern. I grabbed his sleeve and wheeled him away, out of Slythurst’s earshot.

“You must believe me, Cobbett—this is a matter of utmost urgency. I think I know where to find the killer, and others may die tonight if I don’t act.” Seeing that he still looked uncertain, I added, in a whisper, “Sophia is in danger. I have to go this moment—tell me, where will I find my horse? He is in the rector’s stable, I understand.”

“Cobbett, do not open the gate! This man must not leave the college buildings with that package, do you understand?” Slythurst sounded desperate now; lurching to his feet, he lunged unsteadily again at me, and though I was still dizzy from the impact of the last blow, I hurled myself at him, my teeth bared.

“
Ne vuoi di piu? Fatti sotto,”
I snarled, pulling out the kitchen knife I had removed from Humphrey Pritchard and thrusting it before me. “Come on then, if you want some more.”

Slythurst may not have understood my words but he could not mistake the meaning of the knife; he took a step back, stared at me defiantly for the briefest moment, then raised his head and screamed out “Murder!” with all the force of his lungs. On two sides of the quadrangle a number of windows creaked open and shadowy figures leaned out, alarmed by the disturbance.

“I must go this instant,” I whispered to Cobbett, still holding the knife out toward Slythurst, who had clearly decided his best hope was to wake the whole college and set them to apprehend me.

“He will have the watch on you,” Cobbett muttered, as Slythurst raised his cry of “Murder!” again. “You will need to ride fast if you hope to leave the city. The rector’s stable is almost directly opposite, on Cheney Lane. Come.” And the old porter ushered me toward the main gate, moving at a pace I had never seen from him before.

“I must get these papers to Christ Church,” I hissed, as he unlocked the gate. Slythurst watched us but made no move toward us this time; he seemed to have decided to wait for reinforcements. “Which is the best way?”

Cobbett shook his head. “If you ride to Christ Church now, they will apprehend you before you can leave the city,” he whispered, barely audible. “Give the papers to me—I will send a messenger I trust.”

I glanced back at Slythurst, who was now calling up to someone leaning from a first-floor window. Cobbett moved so that his broad back was blocking me from Slythurst’s sight and motioned for me to hand over the papers.

“They must get to Sir Philip Sidney without delay,” I mouthed. “No one else must see them. Men have died for these papers, Cobbett. Can you swear your messenger is trustworthy?”

“On my life,” he grunted. “Now in God’s name, be on your way, Bruno, and God speed you. Bring back Sophia.” The sound of more footsteps rang out on the flagstones; Cobbett eased open the small door just a crack and I quickly passed him the package wrapped in Norris’s shirt, which immediately disappeared inside Cobbett’s capacious old coat.

“Has Master Godwyn returned?” I hissed, as I slipped across the threshold. He frowned.

“I’ve seen no one leave the college tonight except you. The gate has been locked all this time.”

“Then he must have left by another way, the grove, perhaps.” So Godwyn
too might still be at large, and I had a good idea of where I might find him.

Cobbett nodded, then pushed me urgently out into the lane and I heard the lock snap swiftly shut behind me.

I HARDLY DARED
look over my shoulder as I ran as hard as I could into Cheney Lane, a narrow street that bordered Jesus College, almost opposite. Fortunately, buildings were sparse, and the brick stable block was not hard to find, even in the dark, by the smell and the soft noises of horses in sleep. I banged urgently on the gate, fearing that at any moment Slythurst and a gang of men from Lincoln might arrive to apprehend me for theft, while from the other direction I was still expecting Jenkes or any of his cronies, bent on killing me. After a few moments, a tousle-haired stableboy holding a candle opened the gate a crack, his eyes sleepy but scared.