The Enterprise of England (29 page)

‘At last,’ Sir Francis announced grimly as he cast his eye over my hastily written transcriptions, ‘at
last
, our preparations against invasion have begun, but it will be a mighty scramble if we are to be ready in time for this.’ He tapped the papers with his finger.

He picked up the
Antwerp despatch and held it at arm’s length, the better to read it.

‘Thirty thousand trained soldiers.’ There was a look of near despair on his face. ‘Thirty thousand in addition to those aboard the Spanish fleet. We cannot possibly withstand such an army.’

‘The string of warning beacons is being set up?’ said Phelippes.

‘Aye. All along the south coast from
Cornwall to Kent, and on up here to London.’ Walsingham shrugged and sighed.

‘I heard,’ I was hesitant, for I did not usually put myself forward in Sir Francis’s presence, ‘that the citizen militias have been ordered to ready themselves. But have they the arms to defend us?’

Walsingham gave a snort of disgust.

‘Armed with their pitchforks and flails, their ’prentice clubs and tailors’ yards, and their stout English hearts, they stand ready to repel a professional Spanish army equipped with muskets, cross-bows and cannon! Nay, Kit, if our navy cannot prevent the Spaniards from landing, you will soon be able to speak Spanish to our new masters.’

He paced back and forth across our small room, then paused, looking out of the window over the neighbouring roof tops toward the docks and gripping the sill with his long, fine hands.

‘At any rate Drake and Howard and Hawkins are ready with our small but skilful navy, waiting at
Plymouth and the other ports along the south coast. If they cannot repel the Spanish fleet, I hold out little hope for us.’

He turned to face us. ‘What concerns me most at present is that we have had no word from
Amsterdam for several weeks. We need to know what is afoot in the Low Countries. Who do you have out there at present, Thomas?’

‘I have been concerned as well,’ Phelippes said. ‘Mark Weber went out soon after Berden and Kit returned and he was sending regular reports until about three weeks ago. He was reporting on the morale of our soldiers, which is not good. He had also traced van Leyden to a village outside
Amsterdam, apparently lying low. In addition, he said that Cornelius Parker had disappeared for a time, apparently on a buying mission to Constantinople, but had returned on one of his ships to Amsterdam. That was in his last despatch. There has been nothing since.’

‘We must send someone else to discover what is happening with our army there, and to find Weber, if possible. He is part Dutch, is he not?’

‘Aye, his father was Dutch and he speaks the language.’

‘Is Lord Willoughby not reporting regularly?’ I asked.

‘Lord Willoughby tells us what he thinks we want to hear,’ Walsingham said. ‘What I need to know is the mood amongst the men themselves. How prepared they are. Whether many are likely to desert. Whether we are now on better terms with the Hollanders, as Willoughby claims, or whether he is asserting this merely in order to claim greater success than the Earl. Most importantly, whether we are in a position to harry the Spanish army so that they cannot spare thirty thousand men to be sent across the Channel. Whether, if we recall our men, the Hollanders can hold out against Parma, or even attack him, so that he will be unable to fight on two fronts.’

We were all silent for some minutes.

‘Sir John Norreys is there,’ I said at last. ‘Can he not keep Parma’s army occupied, so that it cannot be sent to join the forces sailing up from Spain?’

Walsingham shook his head. ‘The Earl of Leicester is to command the land forces here in
England to resist the Spanish attack. As soon as I send him this latest information, which I will do today, he will want to summon Norreys back from the Low Countries. He will not confess to it, but he knows he cannot command a military campaign as Norreys can.’

Once again, there was silence. The two men looked at me, then exchanged looks.

‘Kit,’ said Phelippes, ‘I think we must send you.’

I felt as though I had been prodded with a red hot poker. I gaped at him. ‘Me? But I haven’t the skills. I speak no Dutch.’

And I thought of my father’s words. I am but a girl.

‘You conducted yourself very successfully before in
Amsterdam,’ Walsingham said.

Phelippes nodded. ‘Your lack of Dutch is no impediment. Most of the Hollanders speak some English. And you have your connection with Ettore Añez, who is eminent in the
Amsterdam merchant community, as well as being the nephew of the Queen’s Purveyor of Spices.’

‘But before, I went with Nicholas Berden,’ I said. ‘One of your most senior agents. He understood what you wished us to do. He speaks some Dutch.’

‘We do not normally send out our agents in pairs, Kit,’ Phelippes said. ‘And were you not saying, only the other day, that you wished you could do something more active in the Queen’s cause? Now is your chance.’

Caught in my own trap, I thought. In future, I should watch my tongue.

‘What would I have to do?’ I asked reluctantly.

‘Find out all the things Sir Francis has just mentioned,’ Phelippes said. ‘And above all, discover what has happened to Mark Weber. That is most important, for he will possess the information we need. It may simply be that his reports have gone astray, or it may be that something has happened to him.’

‘He told you he had located Cornelius Parker,’ I said. ‘The last person I know of who crossed Cornelius Parker had his throat cut.’

‘Aye, but he was a man who had lost his legs. He would not have stood much chance against an assassin. Mark is a competent swordsman.’

‘I am not,’ I said flatly. ‘I have never even held a sword. My training has all been directed to saving life, not taking it.’

They looked at each other again.

‘You will need to leave as soon as possible.’ Phelippes said. ‘We cannot tell how many days’ grace we have before the Spanish fleet arrives, that will depend on the weather and the state of the winds. At the moment, they would seem to be holding the fleet back, loading supplies, perhaps. Or practising naval manoeuvres. You will need to bring word to us before Parma can embark his forces. Their plan must be to take the fleet into one of the Spanish controlled ports, or more than one of them, once it reaches the Channel. Then the soldiers will be embarked on these barges the message speaks of, to be escorted across the Channel by the war fleet. They will not attempt to move the army from the Low Countries until they have the protection of the Spanish warships. To move sooner would be suicide, for our ships would pick them off in the barges.’

‘Perhaps Kit needs some weapons training before leaving,’ Walsingham said. ‘I can summon a weapons master from the Tower tomorrow.’

He looked at me critically. I am tall for a girl, but slender, a fact which has made it easier for me to maintain my disguise as a boy, but no one would judge me muscular, with a soldier’s build.

As if he read my thoughts, Walsingham said, ‘Skill and speed are more important in the use of a sword than great strength. That and a good eye for judging your opponent’s next move. As a physician you must spend much of your time judging men’s characters. That will stand you in good stead.’

He turned to Phelippes. ‘Make sure Kit is provided with a sword. Something light and lethal. I will arrange for training tomorrow. Best to go to the Tower, not fetch a master here. You can have one day to learn the basic skills, Kit. You must leave the next day.’

One day to learn to use a sword? It was madness!

‘Should I ride Hector this time?’ I asked, hoping he would agree.

He shook his head. ‘I need you to travel fast. Thomas can prepare permits for you to use post horses. And a ship from
Dover will be able to take you right into Amsterdam at this time of year. The crossing should be quick too. Be sure you ask for their fastest pinnace, Thomas.’

With that he left us. I looked at Phelippes and shrugged, spreading out my arms in a helpless gesture.

‘You wanted an active role,’ he said with a grim smile. ‘Now you have it.’

The following day I reported to Seething Lane early and was told to go at once to the Tower and enquire for Master Scannard. I had never been inside those grim walls before, though I knew some Londoners came for entertainment to see the wild beasts kept there, many of them gifts to the Queen from foreign rulers. A guard in the gatehouse directed me to Master Scannard’s quarters, located amongst the many buildings surrounding one of the Tower’s courtyards.

He was a small, wiry man, not the powerful soldier I had expected, but I remembered Sir Francis’s words, that skill and speed were more important in a swordsman than great strength. When I had introduced myself, he merely nodded and without warning threw a sword at me.

I managed to catch it by the hilt, more by luck than anything else.

He nodded. ‘Good.’

From then on it was clear he was a man of few words. All morning he demonstrated moves, then made me repeat them again and again. And when he crossed swords with me, again and again he sent my sword flying. As it drew near midday, I was beginning to hold my own for a little longer, but by the time we stopped briefly for bread and ale, my whole body was drenched in sweat and my right wrist felt as though it was on fire. When I tried to pick up my mug of ale, my hand was shaking so much that the rim of the mug clattered against my teeth.

‘You’ll need strapping on that,’ was all he said.

He bound my wrist tightly, which gave me some ease during our afternoon training, but I knew that when I reached home that night I would need to rub my wrist and my whole arm with a muscle embrocation. By the time he released me in the late afternoon I was more physically exhausted than I had ever been in my life and dreaded the thought that the next morning I must set out at once for the Low Countries again.

Master Stannard handed me a scabbard and sword belt. ‘Master Phelippes has provided these for you, and the sword you have been using today. You are beginning to show some aptitude, but I have little hope for you against a skilled swordsman.’

With that he turned away and marched back to his quarters. It was the longest speech he had made all day. I was not sure whether I should be pleased or mortified by his assessment. Before returning home I called in at Seething Lane for Phelippes’s final instructions.

‘There is little more to say than what we discussed yesterday,’ he said, handing me a bundle of papers for Lord Willoughby. ‘I suggest you stay at the same inn as before. They are known as honest people and Mark Weber stayed there for a time, though he may have moved on. Find out if they know anything. You should also call on Master Añez. See what facts he can give you. Get what honest information about the army that you can from Lord Willoughby, but make your own enquiries – discreetly – amongst the soldiers.’

‘If things have not changed much since I was last there,’ I said, ‘the soldiers will be very angry at not being paid. Do you know whether funds for the army have been sent?’

‘Some funds, certainly. Possibly not sufficient. And possibly the money has not found its way down to the common soldiers.’

‘You mean corruption? The army command has been skimming it off?’

He shrugged. ‘It is the way of the world, Kit. Do not tell me you are too innocent to realise that.’

When I reached home, Rikki greeted me rapturously. I had been forced to leave him with my father, for I was sure he would not be welcomed at the Tower. I would have to leave him again while I went on this new mission, though I hoped it would soon be over. My father was resigned to my leaving again, though I knew very well that he did not like it.

During the evening I washed thoroughly, feeling dirty after my day of sword practice, then I packed my satchel, replenishing the medical supplies in the wallet, including some embrocation for my aching muscles which were now causing me some pain. I left behind my clerk’s equipment, all but a sheet or two of paper, the sealing wax, one quill and the ink pot. I had not needed them before, but I might on this journey. This left room in the top of my satchel for a spare shirt, stockings and shift. I planned to carry only my satchel and travel light. I added the passes Phelippes had provided and the purse of Dutch coins that Sir Francis had given me, and my preparations were complete.

Although I was tired, I found it difficult to sleep. My whole body ached and my mind was troubled by thoughts of what I would find in Amsterdam. Making general enquiries would not be difficult, but tracking down the missing agent Mark Weber could well lead me into danger. I did not like the knowledge that his last despatch had reported the return of Cornelius Parker.

I left early the following morning, entrusting Rikki to my father, and setting off to collect the first post horse at the stable near the north end of the Bridge. I felt awkward wearing the sword belt, the sword swinging against my side. How anyone could move normally so encumbered, I could not imagine. My small dagger lay easily against my right hip, but with every step I took the sword seemed ready to tangle itself in my legs, making me feel foolish.

Phelippes’s pass procured me one of the best government post horses, a long rangy beast who had a good turn of speed but who seemed indifferent to me. It must be an unpleasant life for a horse, constantly changing riders, valued for nothing but the speed at which they can gallop from post to post. I changed horses about every fifteen miles and reached Dover that evening, exhausted and very saddle sore.