S J PARRIS Treachery Table of Contents Title Page Map Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Epilogue About the Author Also by S J Parris Copyright About the Publisher From aboard Her Majesty’s good ship the Elizabeth Bonaventure, Plymouth, this Sunday the twenty-second of August 1585 Right Honourable Sir Francis Walsingham After my heartiest commendations to you, Master Secretary, it is with a heavy heart that I pick up my pen to write these words You have no doubt expected fair news of the fleet’s departure by now It grieves me to tell you that we remain for the present at anchor here in Plymouth Sound, delayed at first by routine matters of supplies and provisioning, and awaiting still the arrival of the Galleon Leicester to complete our number, which we expect any day (and with it your son-in-law) Naturally, in a voyage of this size such minor setbacks are to be expected But it is a far graver matter that weighs upon me now and which I feel I must convey to Your Honour, though I ask that for the present you not reveal these sad circumstances to Her Majesty, for I hope to have the business resolved before too long without causing her unnecessary distress Your Honour perhaps knows, at least by reputation, Master Robert Dunne, a gentleman of Devon, sometime seen at court, who proved a most worthy officer and companion when I made my voyage around the world seven years since, and was duly rewarded for his part in that venture I had invited Dunne to join my crew for this our present voyage to Spain and the New World, though there were those among my closest advisers who counselled against it, given the man’s personal troubles and what is said of him, which I need not elaborate here Even so, I will not judge a man on hearsay but on his deeds, and I was determined to give Dunne a chance to recover his honour in the service of his country Perhaps I would have done well to listen, though that is all one now From the outset Dunne’s manner was curious; he seemed much withdrawn into himself, and furtive, as if he were afraid of someone at his shoulder, not at all the man I remembered This I attributed to nervous anticipation of the voyage to come; to leave home and family for the far side of the world is not a venture to be undertaken lightly, and Dunne knew all too well what he might face Last evening, he had been ashore with some of the other gentlemen While we remain here in harbour I consider it wise to allow them the natural pursuits of young men and such diversions as Plymouth affords the sailor – there is time enough for them to be confined together below decks and subject to the harsh discipline of a ship’s company once we haul anchor, though I make clear to the men under my command – as my fellow captains – that they are expected to conduct themselves in such a way as will not bring the fleet into disrepute Dunne was brought back to the ship last night very much the worse for drink, which was also out of character; God knows the man had his vices, but I had confidence that drink was not among them, or I would not have appointed him to serve with me on Her Majesty’s flagship He was in the company of our parson, Padre Pettifer, who had found Dunne wandering in the streets in a high degree of drunkenness and thought best to bring him direct to the ship – a decision I would not have made in his position, for I am told they had the Devil’s own work to help Dunne into the rowboat and up the ladder to the deck of the Elizabeth There they were met by my brother Thomas, who had taken his supper with me aboard and was on his way back to his own command Knowing I was in my quarters, at work on my charts with young Gilbert, and thinking this matter not fit to trouble me with, my brother and the parson helped Dunne back to his cabin to recover, though Thomas later said Dunne appeared very wild, lashing out as if he could see enemies invisible to the rest, and addressing people who were not there, as if he had taken something more than wine But, according to Padre Pettifer, almost the moment he lay down upon his bunk, he fell into a stupor from which he could not be woken, and so they left him to sleep off his excesses and repent of it in the morning What happened between that time and the following dawn is known only to God and, it grieves me to say, one other The weather was foul, with rain and high winds; most of the men were below decks, save the two who kept the watch At first light, my Spanish navigator, Jonas, came knocking at my door, in a fearful haste He had tried to take Robert Dunne a draught of something that would restore him after the night’s excesses, but the cabin was locked and Dunne would not be roused I understood his concern – we have all seen men in drink choke on their own vomit unattended and so I went with him to see – I have a spare key to the private cabins and together we unlocked Dunne’s door But I was not prepared for what we found He was facing away from us at first, though as the ship rolled on the swell, he swung slowly around, and it was then that I noticed – but I run ahead of my story Dunne was hanging by the neck from the lantern hook, a noose tight around his throat Jonas cried out, and spilled some of the philtre he was carrying I quickly hushed him, not wishing to alarm the men With the door shut behind us, Jonas and I lifted Dunne down and laid him on the bunk The body was stiff already; he must have been dead some hours I stayed with him and sent Jonas to fetch my brother from his own ship The death of a man by his own hand must be accounted in any circumstances not only a great sorrow but a great sin against God and nature I confess that a brief anger flared in my breast that Dunne should have chosen this moment, for you know well that sailors are as devout and as superstitious as any men in Christendom, and this would be taken as an omen, a shadow over our voyage I did not doubt that some would desert when they learned of such a death aboard, saying God had turned His face from us Then I reprimanded myself for thinking foremost of the voyage when a man had been driven to such extremes of despair in our midst But as I waited for my brother to arrive, my anger gave way to a greater fear, for I looked more closely at the corpse and at once I realised what was wrong, and a great dread took hold of me I had no need of a physician to tell me this death was not as it first appeared And so you will understand why I confide this to Your Honour, for I must keep my suspicions to myself until I know more If a ship should be considered cursed to count a suicide on board, how much the worse to harbour one guilty of an even greater sin? For this reason, I ask you for the present to keep your counsel Be assured I will inform you of progress, but I wanted Your Honour to have this news from my own hand – rumour will find its way out of every crack, often distorted in some vital particular, and as I know you have eyes and ears here I would not wish you to be misinformed It has been given out among the crew that it was self-slaughter, but there must be a coroner’s inquest You see that I cannot, with due care for my men and the investment of so many great nobles, including Your Honour and our Sovereign Queen herself, embark upon a voyage such as this believing I carry a killer among my crew If Her Majesty should hear we are delayed, I pray you allay any fears for the success of the expedition and assure her we will set sail as soon as Providence allows I send this by fast rider and await your good counsel I remain Your Honour’s most ready to be commanded, Francis Drake ONE ‘There! Is that not a sight to stir the blood, Bruno Does she not make you glad to be alive?’ Sir Philip Sidney half stands as he gestures with pride to the river ahead, so that the small wherry lurches to the left with a great splash and the boatman curses aloud, raising an oar to keep us steady I grab at the bench and peer through the thin mist to the object of Sidney’s fervour The galleon looms up like the side of a house, three tall masts rising against the dawn sky, trailing a cat’s cradle of ropes and rigging that cross-hatch the pale backdrop of the clouds into geometric shapes ‘It is impressive,’ I concede ‘Don’t say “it”, you show your ignorance.’ Sidney sits back down with a thud and the boat rocks alarmingly again ‘“She” for a ship Do you want Francis Drake thinking we have no more seafaring knowledge than a couple of girls? You can drop us here at the steps,’ he adds, to the boatman ‘Bring up the baggage and leave it on the wharf, near as you can to the ship Good fellow.’ He clinks his purse to show that the man’s efforts will be rewarded As we draw closer and Woolwich dock emerges through the mist I see a bustle of activity surrounding the large vessel: men rolling barrels and hefting great bundles tied in oil cloth, coiling ropes, hauling carts and barking orders that echo across the Thames with the shouts of gulls wheeling around the tops of the masts ‘I am quite happy for Sir Francis Drake to know that I cannot tell one end of a boat from the other,’ I say, bracing myself as the wherry bumps against the dockside steps ‘The mark of a wise man is that he will admit how much he does not know Besides, what does it matter? He is hardly expecting us to crew the boat for him, is he?’ Sidney tears his gaze away from the ship and glares at me ‘Ship, not a boat And little you know, Bruno Drake is famed for making his gentlemen officers share the labour with his mariners No man too grand that he cannot coil a rope or swab a deck alongside his fellows, EPILOGUE ‘Burn it.’ Sir Francis Walsingham pushes the bundle of papers across the table towards me They have been rolled together and bound with a black ribbon I reach out and lay a protective hand on them ‘But, the Queen—’ He shakes his head ‘She wants no knowledge of it, Bruno Without the original, this is no more than an extremely dangerous fiction.’ He regards me with a grave expression ‘But surely, if the Vatican are trying to conceal a text of this significance from all of Christendom, that is a matter to concern her?’ Sidney lays his palms flat on the table and leans forward, giving his father-in-law a defiant look Walsingham remains silent, his attention fixed on his clasped hands in front of him The candles have burned low in the wall sconces and in the silver candlesticks on the dining table, gilding the edges of our wine glasses and casting leaping shadows along the linenfold panelling Dusk falls earlier, now that September is almost out, and the evening air is sharp with the chill of autumn The soft light catches the lines on Walsingham’s face: the shadows under his eyes from all the nights when England’s business keeps him from sleep; the furrows in his high forehead from frowning over encoded dispatches from all over the realm and the rest of Europe; the sombre downturn of his mouth beneath the fine moustaches You not often see Walsingham laugh; his is not a job that allows much room for frivolity He is over fifty now, and though he appears to have the stamina of a man half his age, the strain of defending England and her queen is beginning to show ‘The Vatican may have all manner of heretical writings locked away in its archives,’ he says, raising his head ‘They have spent centuries trying to suppress the Gnostic sects.’ ‘Perhaps because they were afraid,’ I say quietly ‘Perhaps they needed to protect their own advantage, because they feared one of those Gnostic gospels contained the truth?’ ‘That is not Queen Elizabeth’s fight, Bruno,’ Walsingham says He sounds tired ‘Look how Christendom is tearing itself apart over differences in interpreting the scriptures we already have And you bring her a book that is not concerned with the finer details of the composition of bread and wine, but one which purports to overturn the entire doctrine of salvation and denies the resurrection.’ He spreads his hands wide to illustrate the enormity of my folly ‘No possible advantage could come to her from making public such a book as this, and every possible harm As soon as she understood its contents, she wanted no part of it And she advised me that if anyone printed or distributed copies of it, they would be punished as heretics.’ ‘But what if it should be true?’ I persist ‘Do you think it is true?’ he asks, after a pause I look at him, finding no clue in his unfathomable dark eyes as to how I should weigh my answer Walsingham is unswervingly devout in his Protestant faith, and conservative with it; for all his seeming mildness, he will have men racked or disembowelled sooner than see it threatened Do I believe the Gospel of Judas? It is not a straightforward question, as he well knows For all their errors, I believe the Gnostics were groping their way towards the truth We humans are more than flawed clay, born stained by sin, worthless without redemption, as it has suited the Church to tell us all these hundreds of years That spark of divinity the Gnostics recognised, that potential to create, to invent, to comprehend the universe and, in doing so, to become god-like – that lies dormant in all of us We deserve better than an eternity spent struggling out of Purgatory, or consigned to Hell by some arbitrary predestined salvation, depending on your preferred doctrine Or so I believe I am not sure this is what Walsingham wishes to hear ‘There are elements that I find plausible,’ I say carefully He allows a small smile ‘A diplomat as ever, Bruno It is certainly an intriguing document But still, best destroyed For all our sakes.’ I draw the papers towards me and nod, lowering my eyes with appropriate deference But I not make him a promise ‘And Her Majesty?’ I ask, hardly daring to voice the rest of the question Walsingham does not reply immediately, but when I look up and meet his steady gaze, I already know his answer and my hopes plummet like an anchor ‘I have spoken to the Queen about your situation, Bruno, but …’ He purses his lips and shakes his head ‘There is little she can Your ideas are too controversial She finds your books thought-provoking, she told me so, but she cannot be seen to endorse them publicly It would be impossible for her to give you any kind of official role at court, especially after she was forced to banish John Dee.’ I nod, though I feel numb John Dee was the nearest Queen Elizabeth ever came to appointing a court philosopher, but his knowledge of astrology and his alchemical experiments made him a figure of suspicion to the more extreme Puritans among her advisers, who began to attack him subtly with rumours of black magic and all kinds of immorality, even to cast sly aspersions on the Queen herself for listening to his counsel Eventually, to spare his reputation and hers, she paid him to travel in Europe, furthering his studies, though Dee and all his friends knew this amounted to banishment He has been gone two years now, with no prospect of being recalled So there was little chance that she would willingly become the patron of another philosopher whose knowledge of occult sciences made him just as dangerous, and who was not even a native Englishman But still, I had dared to hope ‘I understand.’ ‘After all Bruno has done for her, you’d think she could find something,’ Sidney bursts out, rising to his feet ‘If it were not for Bruno, she might be a prisoner of the Queen of Scots and her French allies by now We all might.’ He looks aggrieved ‘Why, if he hadn’t come to Plymouth with me, Drake might never have found out his clerk was selling advance notice of his route to the Spanish – she would have lost her entire investment, not to mention hundreds of English lives, and been humiliated at the hands of King Philip If that is not worth a reward, I don’t know what is.’ Walsingham inclines his head ‘Her Majesty knows well what efforts Bruno has made in her service Though you may be interested to learn, it turned out young Master Crosse was not lying.’ ‘Really?’ Sidney frowns ‘But I thought he confessed to the murders?’ ‘The murders, yes But we had the letter decoded and all the details he had sent to the Spanish Ambassador were incorrect I forwarded it to Drake just before he set sail and he sent back confirmation If all Gilbert’s communications followed that pattern, the fleet would not have been in any more danger than it was already, in Drake’s view.’ ‘He is still a killer,’ Sidney says, in case this should undermine our achievements ‘And he will die for it,’ Walsingham says mildly ‘That is the law The one concession, since it appears that his treason was only partial, is that he will be hanged until dead before he is put to the knife I gave him my word.’ We sit in silence, each of us picturing a traitor’s end ‘Her Majesty will reward you, she promised,’ he adds, turning to me ‘As will Drake, and Dom Antonio, who cannot sing your praises highly enough, it seems You will be well provided for, Bruno For a while, at least.’ ‘That is very gracious of them,’ I say, trying to sound as if I mean it A gift of money is never unwelcome, but it would buy me only a few months’ grace I not need a purse so much as I need a job – some official position that will allow me to stay in England and write my books, and confer some status on them when they are published A teaching post at one of the universities would have been useful, a position at court even better Now it looks as though there is no place for me at either I was never truly a part of this court circle, though they opened their door to me for a time But I could not belong among men like Sidney and his uncle the Earl of Leicester, or even Walsingham, all of them bound together by blood, marriage and politics over the best part of three decades My face, my voice, my ideas mark me as different Perhaps, as I have often feared, a man like me belongs everywhere and nowhere I try to harden my expression, so that my face will not betray the disappointment I am battling Instead, I reach for the jug and pour another glass of wine ‘Her Majesty was pleased to support you while she could so covertly,’ Walsingham continues, his tone gentle, ‘and after some discussion we feel there is a way she could so again.’ He notes the light in my eyes and holds up a hand, as if warning me not to let my hopes race ahead of his words ‘Intelligence from Paris suggests that Mary Stuart’s supporters there are still fomenting their conspiracies against the Queen, and that their plots grow more ambitious by the day If we had a man in Paris able to watch them and report on their movements, that would be worth a good deal to Her Majesty, and of course to me.’ He gives me a long look ‘But Your Honour, my earnest desire is to stay in London,’ I say, trying not sound as if I am begging I not need to spell out to him the dangers that would wait for me at the French court ‘I know that, Bruno.’ He exhales and shakes his head ‘And it grieves me that I cannot give you what you want But I am offering you a chance to Her Majesty further service Who knows – perhaps in a couple of years things might be different.’ He holds out his hands, palms up, to show that this is the best he can ‘Thank you, Master Secretary,’ I say, forcing a smile, though my heart feels dragged down by its own weight ‘I will think on it.’ In a couple of years, King Henri of France might be pushed off his throne by the Catholic League, who would tear me to pieces quicker than you could say a novena In a couple of years, Spain might invade England These are volatile times: in a couple of years, we might none of us be where we are now Besides, we all know it is an empty promise, held out only to soften the blow If Queen Elizabeth can find no place for me now, while my service to her is fresh in her mind, she is unlikely to be any better disposed towards me two years hence ‘You might catch up with Rowland Jenkes in Paris, Bruno,’ Sidney says, leaning back, his hands behind his head ‘Have a little word with him about his manners in Plymouth You might even get to track down the original of that book.’ He nods to the papers on the table Walsingham frowns ‘I have seen enough of Jenkes for several lifetimes,’ I say The thought of him at large in Paris only adds to my reluctance There is a timid knock at the door Walsingham calls to enter, and it opens wide enough to admit the hesitant figure of Sidney’s wife Frances She slips in and stands behind her husband’s chair; Sidney turns and rests a hand on the mound of her belly Walsingham’s face visibly softens ‘What is it, daughter?’ he asks ‘A messenger has arrived from Lord Burghley, Father,’ she says, with as near to a curtsey as her advanced pregnancy will allow ‘He has come by river from Whitehall and says it is urgent.’ ‘Very well Would you excuse me, gentlemen?’ We all stand as Walsingham pushes back his chair He seems relieved at the interruption When the door closes behind him, Sidney puts his arm around his wife and pulls the fabric of her dress tight over her belly ‘What you think, Bruno – does this not look like a strapping son in there? To judge by the bloody size of it.’ ‘I think Lady Sidney looks in fine health, and I’m sure the child is too,’ I say, seeing how the poor girl blushes She raises her eyes and gives me a grateful smile She is only nineteen, pale and pretty, though she looks exhausted After a few days of living with Sidney, I can appreciate why – and I am not even with child ‘He is a fighter too,’ Sidney says, prodding her abdomen ‘Kicking and pummelling his way out, is he not, my dear? Going to be a soldier like his father,’ he adds, expanding his chest with pride Frances gives a weak smile and bites her lip ‘Not if I can help it,’ she murmurs ‘Get along, then – you should be resting, not running errands for your father,’ he says, patting her absently ‘Bruno and I have business to discuss.’ I bow as she leaves, though I note how she lingers at the door, her gaze resting briefly on her husband I can only guess what she must be feeling ‘So you are really going?’ I ask, when the door is closed behind her ‘I am Thanks be to God, the Queen relented I had an audience with her at the end of last week, and she confirmed my posting.’ His face is alight with excitement He looks like a man in love, I reflect, except that the object of his desire is the command of a garrison in Flushing ‘So she has forgiven you for attempting to run away to the New World?’ ‘It seems so At least, I had the impression she feels a small degree of guilt in driving me to such desperate measures The governorship of Flushing is her way of making amends She has even offered to stand god-mother to the child But he has not forgiven me,’ he adds, darkly, jabbing his thumb towards the door where Walsingham left ‘Firstly for trying to join Drake’s voyage without telling him, and now for going to war just as the child is about to be born.’ ‘I can see his point of view.’ ‘It’s not as if I’m its wet-nurse.’ ‘What does Lady Sidney feel?’ I hardly need ask this; her thoughts were plain enough on her face ‘Oh, she is furious Won’t let me near her bed since I told her the news But you know how wives are,’ he says, making a face ‘No, I don’t.’ He straightens his chair and sits up, his expression apologetic ‘No – forgive me Thoughtless.’ He pauses, weighing his next words ‘It must have been hard, saying goodbye to Lady Arden.’ I shrug the question away ‘It was what it was A dalliance, nothing more It’s not as if either of us was deceived about that.’ ‘Even so,’ he says ‘I think she was growing fond of you.’ He does not ask directly whether I felt anything for her Perhaps he thinks that would be overstepping the bounds of friendship ‘Perhaps.’ During those few days at Drake’s country estate, the sun had made a last, brave attempt at summer, and we had spent evenings walking the long sloping lawns in golden light while swallows looped and skittered overhead It was a brief, happy interlude, made all the sweeter by the knowledge that it could not last ‘Still, I don’t doubt there will be a great many beauties at the French court delighted to see you return,’ he says, catching my faraway look ‘They will be far outnumbered by the Catholic Leaguers who are horrified to see me,’ I say, my spirits sinking again at the thought of Paris ‘Besides, I have no interest in French courtesans.’ ‘No I know you too well You still hold out hopes of catching up with Sophia, am I not right? It is the only thing that makes the prospect of France bearable to you.’ I look away to the window I did not realise I was so easy to read ‘You need to forget her, Bruno,’ he says, gently ‘Find someone else.’ ‘The way you have forgotten Penelope Devereux?’ I turn back to him, raising an eyebrow ‘At least I have not written her a hundred sonnets.’ ‘A hundred and eight, actually,’ he corrects We look at each other and burst out laughing ‘I wish you were not going,’ he says, when the laughter subsides ‘What difference will it make to you where I am? You will be busy defending Flushing.’ I stop abruptly; I had not intended to sound quite so piqued Deep down, a part of me still feels that he and Walsingham could have tried harder to find a way for me to stay Sidney looks surprised ‘But you would have been here when I came back,’ he says, his face suddenly sincere I look at him How young he looks in the candlelight, his eyes bright with anticipation of his great adventure But you cannot guarantee that you will come back, I think, though I not say it I am seized by a sudden urge to plead with him not to go to war, to spell out the odds of a victory against the Spanish, but he is a grown man, and he wants his chance to prove it He pours more wine for us both ‘On reflection, I’m quite glad we’re not halfway across the Atlantic, you know I don’t think I could have suffered Drake ordering me to swab out latrines for months on end And think of the damp.’ ‘And the piss-drinking and weevils.’ I laugh ‘I did tell you.’ ‘Besides, I would have missed the chance to go to Flushing.’ ‘Quite right Because a military camp, by contrast, will be just like Whitehall Palace Turkish carpets and feather beds all round – no lice or scurvy there.’ ‘Shut up, Bruno,’ he says, with affection ‘You will not deter me, whatever you say It’s all I’ve wanted, to be a military commander And when I come home, it will be to a hero’s welcome Let them call me a lapdog then.’ He grins as he stands, raising his glass It glows a deep crimson in the candlelight, rich and warm as blood ‘To us, Bruno To our futures To freedom and glory and poetry And to seeing you again very soon, with great tales to tell.’ I stand and chime my glass with his ‘To all those things,’ I say ‘Especially the last.’ But as I drink, I feel a shiver pass through me, as if a cloud has crossed the sun As if someone has walked over my grave, my mother would have said I not believe in premonitions, I tell myself The candles have almost burned down to ashes To our futures, I murmur again, as if, with enough conviction, I can will it to be true ABOUT THE AUTHOR S.J Parris is the pseudonym of the author and journalist Stephanie Merritt It was as a student at Cambridge researching a paper on the period that Stephanie first became fascinated by the rich history of Tudor England and Renaissance Europe Since then, her interest has grown and led her to create this series of historical thrillers featuring Giordano Bruno Stephanie has worked as a critic and feature writer for a variety of newspapers and magazines, as well as radio and television She currently writes for the Observer and the Guardian, and lives in Surrey with her son Treachery is her seventh book www.sjparris.com @thestephmerritt ALSO BY S J PARRIS Heresy Prophecy Sacrilege Copyright Harper An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 77–85 Fulham Palace Road Hammersmith, London W6 8JB www.harpercollins.co.uk First published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2014 Copyright © Stephanie Merritt 2014 Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2014 Cover illustration © Daren Newman Cover images © Shutterstock.com (background textures) Stephanie Merritt asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work Map © Nicolette Caven A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This is entirely a work of fiction Any references to real people, living or dead, real events, businesses, organizations and localities are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity All names, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Source ISBN: 9780007481194 Ebook Edition © FEBRUARY 2014 ISBN: 9780007481217 Version: 2014-02-05 About the Publisher Australia HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty Ltd Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia http://www.harpercollins.com.au/ebooks Canada HarperCollins Canada Bloor Street East – 20th Floor Toronto, ON, M4W, 1A8, Canada http://www.harpercollins.ca New Zealand HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited P.O Box Auckland, New Zealand http://www.harpercollins.co.nz United Kingdom HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 77-85 Fulham Palace Road London, W6 8JB, UK http://www.harpercollins.co.uk United States HarperCollins Publishers Inc 10 East 53rd Street New York, NY 10022 http://www.harpercollins.com Table of Contents Title Page Map Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Chapter Ten Chapter Eleven Chapter Twelve Chapter Thirteen Chapter Fourteen Chapter Fifteen Chapter Sixteen Chapter Seventeen Chapter Eighteen Chapter Nineteen Chapter Twenty Chapter Twenty-One Chapter Twenty-Two Chapter Twenty-Three Chapter Twenty-Four Chapter Twenty-Five Chapter Twenty-Six Chapter Twenty-Seven Chapter Twenty-Eight Chapter Twenty-Nine Chapter Thirty Epilogue About the Author Also by S J Parris Copyright About the Publisher ... supper in my quarters.’ Knollys bows his head ‘Thank you There is much to discuss.’ ‘Ah, Captain Knollys.’ Francis Drake rubs his beard and his smile disappears ‘More than you know.’ There is a... possibly misunderstood the nature of marriage, but I refrain; I am hardly qualified to advise him about women Besides, there is no profit in making him more irritable His anger, I see now, is not at... the word ‘poets’, and nor did Sidney; I mind less, but I would rather not disgrace myself too far in front of this aristocratic sailor Puking in a bucket is clearly, in his eyes, the surest way