The Alchemist of Souls (Night's Masque, #1)(89)

"If my lord secretary is not at his house or will not see you, ask for a man named Baines. Do not say who the note is from; Walsingham is not the only one with informants everywhere."

She tucked the letter into her doublet and left, assuring him of her discretion. If there was one thing she knew, it was how to keep a secret.

CHAPTER XXIII

Coby delivered the letter as promised then set off for the theatre, her thoughts in turmoil. Master Catlyn an intelligencer? She smiled bitterly at the irony of being set to spy on him.

Dunfell's account of his master's suspicions came back to her. This fellow Catlyn, who has been appointed as the ambassador's bodyguard, may owe his position to the scheming of the ambassador's own enemies. Did that mean Walsingham was one of those enemies? Master Catlyn himself must surely be innocent; why else would they be using his brother against him? Unless it was a threat to ensure his cooperation, as they had done with Ned. That made more sense than trying to pass a madman off as the ambassador's bodyguard.

By the time she reached the theatre, Suffolk's Men were packing up for the day and heading for their suppers. To her surprise Master Parrish was there, though he was uncharacteristically silent amongst the laughing, chattering actors.

"Well, how did it go?" Master Naismith asked in a low rumble that was scarcely audible over the hubbub. He turned away for a moment and slapped Master Eaton on the back. "Good work today, Rafe. If that does not win us the contest, I shall eat my boots with gravy."

Eaton laughed. "It is many a year since we had so mean a supper. Do not wish those days back again, sir!"

The actor-manager turned back to Coby. "So?"

"Ah, um, it went well enough," Coby replied, trying to remember what she had said earlier. "Sir, did you really eat your boots, in the old days?"

"Aye, and count myself fortunate for even that. At least I did not set out barefoot." He laughed. "But enough of reminiscences. What did Catlyn want you for, anyway?"

"He, uh, wanted to learn how to play Five Beans with the ambassador's guards, since he has nothing to do this evening. He needed me to translate the skraylings' explanations of the rules."

She grinned, congratulating herself on her quick thinking.

"Did you warn him how seriously the skraylings take the game? I've heard of men sold into bondage after making an over-ambitious wager."

"Of course, sir. I did my best to discourage him from playing." She decided it was best to change the subject, before her tongue ran away with her. "Do you really think we can win, sir?"

"Think it? I know it," he replied loudly, then added in a lower tone, "though if you can put in a good word for us tomorrow with the ambassador, it can do no harm, eh?"

"No, sir."

"Lock up here, will you? We're off to the Bull's Head to find out how the Admiral's Men got on. Are you expected back at the Tower this evening?"

"I don't think so, sir."

"Well, then, join us for a drink. I've promised the lads a day off tomorrow, to rest their spinning heads before the performance on Thursday."

Whether he meant the spinning of a hangover or the exhaustion of a full day's rehearsals, Coby was not sure. Probably both.

"You too, of course," he added. "I need you fresh and ready to look after these miscreants on the big day."

"Of course, sir."

She glanced at Master Parrish. The actor looked pale and withdrawn, and in no better humour for carousing than herself. He gave her a wan smile in return.

"Would you help me tidy up, sir?" she asked him, with a meaningful look. "You know almost better than I where everything belongs."

He nodded acquiescence, and began picking up discarded garments, though he seemed unable to remember what to do with them after that. The other actors appeared not to notice, however; intent on their evening's enjoyment, they filed out into the rosy evening light. Soon the tiring room was empty but for the two of them.

Parrish went to the door and watched until everyone was out of earshot.

"Did you speak to Catlyn?" he asked, turning back to her.

"I told him everything Ned told us."

"And? Will he protect Ned?"

She had no answer for him. Master Catlyn had been very angry, and rightly so. No doubt he would do anything to get his brother back.

Master Parrish enveloped her in an embrace, catching her off-guard.

"Ned gave himself up this afternoon," he mumbled against her hair.

She patted his back awkwardly.

"You should go home," she said, pulling away.

He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Thank you for trying to help," he said at last. "Men like us must stick together, eh?"

"I was simply doing my Christian duty," she replied. "Now, I really must lock up and meet Master Naismith at the Bull, or he'll be wondering what kept me."

After Master Parrish had gone she locked the back door of the theatre and crossed the field to Gravel Lane, but she did not go to the tavern as promised. She was in no mood for the actors' chatter this evening. Perhaps she ought to go back to the Tower after all: Master Catlyn was not going anywhere tonight, and she had not had a chance to tell him about the attacks on the theatre. They might be nothing to do with the plot against the ambassador, but what did she know of conspiracies? Older and wiser heads might see a connection where she could not.