Queen's Ransom (31 page)

“Come on,” Jenkinson muttered, urging me on as earlier I had been urging him. “The watch will come back along the walkway eventually. Besides, Longman’s guarding the boats on his own.”

From the direction of the bolted street door, there came a very faint sound. It just might have been someone stealthily testing the door. Crouched beside our lanterns, we froze, heads up like startled deer. From the other direction, from the waterway, came a splash of oars. “That’s just another rowing boat,” whispered Jenkinson. “But I think we should hurry.”

We hurried, dragging out the last two sacks. Undoing the first of them, I saw the miniature turrets of the golden salt in the shape of a castle tower. I removed another fold of sacking and revealed the crested bird set in rubies. Jenkinson whistled softly, impressed. A swift look into the last sack showed us the scallop shell lid of the silver salt, slightly tarnished.

“I think it’s all here,” I said. “Oh, how I wish we could just, simply—”

“We’ll keep to our plan,” said Jenkinson. “It may be a needless precaution, but we should make certain. It isn’t far to the lodging, Ursula. We shall be back here and away again before daylight.”

“If only we knew for sure if there was going to be an attempt. And how and when!”

“If we knew all that, taking precautions would be easy,” Jenkinson pointed out. “As it is, we can only guess and hope for the best. Come on, now. Which of the small items shall we risk losing?”

I made myself be businesslike. “We’ll hazard the toilet set and two of the figurines.” I set them aside, and began to put the other items back inside their sacks. Then I noticed that Jenkinson was watching me in a curious, covert fashion. “What’s the matter, Master Jenkinson? What’s wrong?”

“Is it true—that you work for Cecil as . . . an agent?”

“Yes.” I folded sacking tenderly around a golden turret. “But please, please treat it as a secret.”

“That goes without saying. But—it’s not right. Not for someone like yourself.” Jenkinson was much in earnest. “You’re beautiful, you know.” He paused, sitting back on his heels and looking at me with frank appreciation. “Not in a voluptuous way like a tavern wench but . . . I have heard it said,” said Jenkinson, “that Queen Elizabeth has a spirit full of incantation. I had an audience with her once, and I know what was meant. I think there is incantation in you, too. Midnight hair and eyes that shift from green to dark and back again; there’s something magical about you.”

“I have no magic,” I said. “I do what I do to support myself and my child. That’s all.”

“But how many other young women in your position would do what you do? You’re so unexpected. You’re like a small, neat black cat, all softness and purrs one moment; but the next, it’s steel springs under the fur, needle claws, and glittering eyes. I was there when you hurled that pail of water over your henchman at Le Cheval d’Or, remember! And now you produce a set of lock picks! In a way, they add to your enchantment, but it is a dark enchantment. My very dear Ursula—for you have become dear to me, even though I am a married man and I have a wife I care for deeply, and have been parted from, perhaps, too long—my sweet Ursula, claws are natural to a cat, but are lock picks and fights in inn yards natural to you? So far they haven’t dimmed your beauty but one day they might. Do you realize that?”

“Yes,” I said bleakly. I thought again of the man to whom I had given yew poison. But for that, Brockley would never have thought of bringing yew poison with us to France; and if he hadn’t, then Dale would not have been arrested and I would not now be crouching in an Antwerp warehouse, wrapping up treasure and shivering with dread. “I think,” I said, “that it has already dimmed my soul.”

“Then change your way of life,” said Jenkinson. “You have a husband. Go to him. Or if you can’t do that, if you can’t live with him, then find a way to release yourself and take another husband. I am a man of the world, Mistress Blanchard—or De la Roche. My advice is worth having.”

“Brockley has said much the same things.”

“Brockley is no fool. He is probably,” said Jenkinson unexpectedly, “the type of man you should be married to.”

“Oh, really!”

“I know, he’s your manservant. But men of his stamp are to be found in other stations of life. I’ll say no more. For the moment, we’ve got to get out of here. Let’s set about it.”

Rapidly, we finished our preparations and then went out to the landing stage, each of us carrying a sack. “Longman?” Jenkinson kept his voice low, but clear. “We’ve got it. Be ready to . . .”

He stopped short. Longman was sitting in the boat. He was sitting very still indeed. This was because, on the stone jetty of the adjacent warehouse, only ten feet or so away, stood two men with crossbows, the bolts trained steadily on his heart.

We could see all this quite easily, because the crossbowmen were not alone. Beside them, holding up a blazing flambeau, stood a bulky and authoritative figure. The light threw all the planes of his fleshy face into relief. Dr. Ignatius Wilkins. Of course.

“Ah. Mistress de la Roche and Master Jenkinson.” Wilkins’s thick voice greeted us as sociably as though we had met at a reception. “Yes, I thought you would use the water entrance, though I do have a man watching the street door. Let me present my companions. They are retainers of the Abbey of St. Marc, graciously lent to me by the abbess to assist the cause of the true faith. They will be joining the Catholic army as soon as this little assignment is over.”

The flambeau gave us a good view of the crossbowmen’s faces. I recognized them at once. So did Jenkinson. “Ah. The abbey riffraff we met at St. Marc’s. They looted the homes of some murdered citizens, Dr. Wilkins. Did you know?”

“The fate of heretics, or their goods, is no concern of mine,” said Wilkins. “I have no complaint of my retainers.”

I recalled that the abbess of St. Marc’s had said she intended to get rid of her deadwood. Wilkins, presumably, had given her the opportunity and she had taken it.

I was too afraid to speak, but Jenkinson, still cool, said: “What is all this about? What do you want with us?”

“The treasure you have come to collect, of course,” said Wilkins. “I have no intention of allowing that wicked woman, Frances Dale, to be ransomed. The treasure will go straight to the Catholic cause, and the woman Dale will burn. I have just heard you announce that you’ve found it—and those bags you have there are part of it, presumably. Thank you for retrieving it for me.”

His voice was thickly pleased. We said nothing. Wilkins ordered Longman to get up to the landing stage and join us, and then spoke to one of the crossbowmen, who handed his weapon to Wilkins and then, unexpectedly, whistled a little tune. This must have been a signal, for a third man appeared from an alley between the two warehouses.

“He’s the fellow who was keeping watch in the street,” Jenkinson said in my ear. “We heard him trying the street door.”

“Attend to me!” Wilkins’s voice was pitched low but it was menacing. “Put those sacks down and step back from them. Then stand still, all three of you. The crossbows are now trained on you, Mistress de la Roche, but I hope we won’t have to shoot you. Even though you are disporting yourself in men’s clothes, which is deplorable. I suppose it is what one might expect of such a one as yourself.”

We did as he bade us, and then stood there, facing the crossbows. Jenkinson spoke for the first time. “Don’t concern yourself, Dr. Wilkins. We shall give you no trouble. Frankly, the treasure’s not all that we hoped for.”

“Indeed?” said Wilkins. He sounded faintly disconcerted. There was a question in his voice, which we didn’t choose to answer. “Well,” he said grimly,“we shall see.”

The man who had whistled and the man he had summoned came around by the bank to our landing stage, collected our sacks, and loaded them into one of our boats. Then they went into the warehouse and emerged with the remaining sacks. They leered triumphantly at us as they passed us. “There’s a nice gold figurine at the top of this bag here!” one of them called to Wilkins. “The treasure’s not so poor as all that!”

“I thought it might not be,” Wilkins said. “Well, get on with it. We’ve no time to waste.”

“I’d like to kill that man Wilkins,” I muttered. “I’d like to see him lying dead at my feet, in a pool of blood.”

“Don’t be so vindictive,” said Jenkinson. “They’d better hurry. They certainly don’t have time to waste. The watchman will be back very soon.”

They did hurry. In a very few minutes, the last sack had been loaded. Then, while we watched in silent outrage, Wilkins’s men took both our boats and rowed them out to the middle of the canal, while Wilkins and the crossbowman beside him, taking turns to cover us, went down into a boat that was moored by their own landing stage. As Wilkins passed his flambeau to the other man, it lit up the name of their craft. The
Anna.

“When we return to France,” I said in a choked voice, directing my words across the few yards of water between the two jetties, “I shall report this to Queen Catherine.”

“I shall do so myself,” said Wilkins. “I shall donate the treasure to the Catholic cause, without strings. I doubt if Queen Catherine will raise any objection. It is a cause dear to her heart, whereas the death of a heretic servant is of no great moment to her. I do not fear you, which is why I am happy to let you live—to see the fate of Frances Dale—or perhaps I should call her Mistress Brockley. You will have to walk home, I fear.” He pointed back along the walkway. In the distance, we could see a bobbing light. “The watchman is coming back. He has taken his time. But I believe he sometimes stops at a house in Hoekstraat for a tankard of mulled ale. There’s a lady who makes him welcome, even in the middle of the night. Since Eve tempted Adam, woman has been a temptation and a peril unto men. I do not pity you, or your servant. Good night to you all.”

The three of us watched him go, part of a small fleet that included our two boats. We would have to compensate Klara now, and the yard that had hired us the second craft.

“Well, well. He’ll look so sweet with those tortoiseshell combs in his tonsure,” said Jenkinson cheerfully. He added: “There are plenty of small craft moored along the waterside. When the watch has gone past again, I’ll see if we can borrow a couple. But for the moment, we had better get out of sight. Come on. Back into the warehouse.”

He led us in. For the second time that night, we waited silently in the dark, shielding our lanterns with our bodies. I think one of the dogs scented us, for as the watchman’s footsteps reached our landing stage, we heard a low growl, and there was a snuffling and scrabbling at the door. But we had once more bolted it on the inside. The watchman tried it, found it secure, and hauled the dog away. We heard him accusing it of trying to run riot after rats.

When we were sure that the watch was sufficiently far away, we crept out to search for vulnerable boats. We found what we wanted quite quickly, and rowed them softly back to the warehouse.

“Well, they took the bait. I’m glad the attack came at once. It would have been unpleasant, waiting for it and wondering. Let’s make haste,” Jenkinson said.

I yawned, suddenly conscious that I was very tired. He shook his head at me.

“Brace up, Mistress Blanchard. You can’t go to sleep yet. The night’s not over!”

Dawn Catch

It was nearly dawn when we reached the lodging again. When we dragged our burdens in at the back door, we found the kitchen full of candlelight, and the entire household, except for Klara, waiting anxiously for us and more or less fully dressed, although Helene and Jeanne were in slippers and shawls.

Everyone gathered around us, exclaiming, as we piled the sacks on the table. Even the distant William Harvey looked quite thrilled, while Clarkson and Arnold actually jostled each other in their eagerness to look. At Jenkinson’s request, Sweetapple helped me bring in a second load, while Jenkinson and Longman slipped back to the boats, untied them, and pushed off. Blanchard felt the hard and knobbly outlines of one of the sacks, picked it up, raised his eyebrows at the weight, and would have peered inside, except that I put my hand out and stopped him. He looked at me in surprise. “What’s the matter? And where, may I ask, have Jenkinson and his man gone to?”

“They’ll soon be back,” I said grimly. I wasn’t looking forward to what lay ahead. But Jenkinson and I had talked as we rowed back and arrived at a decision. It was not pleasant but it was necessary. “It’s best that the treasure remains in its sacks until we’re all here.”

Helene exclaimed with disappointment, which was echoed by murmurs from the others. My father-in-law said crossly: “But why? You were the one who brought us all to Antwerp to fetch it. You want it to ransom Dale. Why must Jenkinson be here before we can inspect it? And where is he?”

“He and Longman are returning a couple of borrowed boats,” I said. “Our own boats met with—an accident, shall we say?”

Horrified exclamations broke out. “But, mistress, were you hurt? Was anyone?” Mark Sweetapple sounded appalled.

“Mistress Blanchard isn’t wet. She’s not been in the river.” Harvey sounded almost regretful. Unlike the others, he had never mellowed toward me.

“No,” I agreed, “I didn’t have to swim for my life. It wasn’t that sort of accident.”

“Then what kind was it?” My father-in-law, if anything, was indignant. “What is all this? Why so mysterious, Ursula? I don’t like mysteries.”

The memory of his imitation illness at the inn rose up in my mind and before I could stop myself, I had said acidly: “No. Neither do I.” He heard the edge in my voice and stared at me in surprise. I think he was going to ask what I meant by it but Helene broke in first, pleading to look into the sacks. “Why can’t we look? Where is the harm?”

“Please humor me,” I said. “We shall have full explanations soon, but I want to wait for the others. It’s cold. I’ll mull some wine.”

“Mull some wine?” Harvey stared at me. “Well, I’ll be . . . !” For once, it seemed, I had impressed him. “Hot drinks because the air’s chilly? Now?” He pointed at the sacks on the table and then threw himself into the basket chair and for the first time since I had known him abandoned himself to laughter.