insolence. ‘Mr Wren, I wish to see and hear everything about this place. If there is a stone loose in the wall, you will tell me about it. If a bluecoat has lifted a scullion’s skirts, then you will pass me the knowledge of it.’
‘Thy will be done, almighty sir. And there will be unicorn pie for supper . . .’
Shakespeare looked at Boltfoot, who shook his head slowly. Shakespeare turned back to the sergeant, held his gaze and frowned. ‘Speak to me in that manner again, Mr Wren, and I will have you removed from your post, and worse.’
‘You have the power to do that, do you, sir?’
‘I have the power to do it and I will do it. I am here on Queen’s business and I will tolerate neither slackness nor impudence.’
At the mention of the Queen, the sergeant’s demeanour changed as swiftly as the weather. ‘Forgive me, sir. I intended no disrespect.’
‘How long have you been at the castle?’
‘Since the Scots Queen first arrived here in November fifteen seventy. I was promoted sergeant of guards in seventy-four.’
Like his master, Shrewsbury, he had probably been in the job a great deal too long, Shakespeare thought. The danger in a man holding such an office over many years was the carelessness that came with familiarity and too much confidence. But one thing was certain: Wren would know the castle and grounds better than any other.
‘Good, then you will be my escort, Sergeant. Within and without the castle walls. I wish to hear everything you know about the Scots Queen and those who attend upon her. I wish, too, to know everything you have heard from the goodwives and gossips and in the taverns hereabouts. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A room has been set aside for me by the hall. Have the steward send me a courier within the half-hour. Not just anyone – your fastest, most trustworthy rider.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You will come to me at one o’clock.’
The sergeant snapped his heels together and bowed obediently.
‘What is the watchword this day?’
Wren’s mouth opened, then closed. A look of desperate bewilderment crossed his brow. ‘I – I am not permitted to say, master.’
‘Would you cross me?’
‘No, sir. I would happily tell you, but I cannot.’
‘You speak well, for had you revealed the word I would have had you dismissed on the spot. Now go about your business.’
The guard clicked his heels again and saluted. Shakespeare touched Boltfoot’s arm and they walked back towards the hall.
‘I have work for you, Boltfoot.’
‘Yes, master.’
‘You will go from here and examine the castle walls from the outside. And when darkness falls, you will break in . . .’
Chapter Seven
S HAKESPEARE DESPATCHED THE courier with his letter to Walsingham at Oatlands. It told of Leloup’s visit and subsequent disappearance, that was all. He would reveal his doubts about the Earl of Shrewsbury to Walsingham in person; such opinions were not to be consigned to paper.
He wondered for a moment whether Shrewsbury might intercept the letter, for he would guess it was not flattering to him. But Shrewsbury would know, too, that the information the letter contained could not be held back for long. Walsingham would learn of Leloup’s visit to Mary eventually. One way or another.
After the courier had gone, Shakespeare walked out into the bailey and ascended a flight of stone steps to the battlements. He was stopped at every turn by guards. Was this a special display for his benefit, or were they always so thorough?
From the ramparts, he looked out over Sheffield. It was a fair-sized market town, renowned for making steel cutlery. He gazed all around for ten minutes, trying to work out the lie of the land. Below him was one of the rivers that formed a moat most of the way around the castle. Not far off, he saw the Cutler’s Rest, and thought briefly of Miss Whetstone. He would take a chamber there rather than here in this grim castle.
He turned away and looked to
‘Thy will be done, almighty sir. And there will be unicorn pie for supper . . .’
Shakespeare looked at Boltfoot, who shook his head slowly. Shakespeare turned back to the sergeant, held his gaze and frowned. ‘Speak to me in that manner again, Mr Wren, and I will have you removed from your post, and worse.’
‘You have the power to do that, do you, sir?’
‘I have the power to do it and I will do it. I am here on Queen’s business and I will tolerate neither slackness nor impudence.’
At the mention of the Queen, the sergeant’s demeanour changed as swiftly as the weather. ‘Forgive me, sir. I intended no disrespect.’
‘How long have you been at the castle?’
‘Since the Scots Queen first arrived here in November fifteen seventy. I was promoted sergeant of guards in seventy-four.’
Like his master, Shrewsbury, he had probably been in the job a great deal too long, Shakespeare thought. The danger in a man holding such an office over many years was the carelessness that came with familiarity and too much confidence. But one thing was certain: Wren would know the castle and grounds better than any other.
‘Good, then you will be my escort, Sergeant. Within and without the castle walls. I wish to hear everything you know about the Scots Queen and those who attend upon her. I wish, too, to know everything you have heard from the goodwives and gossips and in the taverns hereabouts. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘A room has been set aside for me by the hall. Have the steward send me a courier within the half-hour. Not just anyone – your fastest, most trustworthy rider.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You will come to me at one o’clock.’
The sergeant snapped his heels together and bowed obediently.
‘What is the watchword this day?’
Wren’s mouth opened, then closed. A look of desperate bewilderment crossed his brow. ‘I – I am not permitted to say, master.’
‘Would you cross me?’
‘No, sir. I would happily tell you, but I cannot.’
‘You speak well, for had you revealed the word I would have had you dismissed on the spot. Now go about your business.’
The guard clicked his heels again and saluted. Shakespeare touched Boltfoot’s arm and they walked back towards the hall.
‘I have work for you, Boltfoot.’
‘Yes, master.’
‘You will go from here and examine the castle walls from the outside. And when darkness falls, you will break in . . .’
Chapter Seven
S HAKESPEARE DESPATCHED THE courier with his letter to Walsingham at Oatlands. It told of Leloup’s visit and subsequent disappearance, that was all. He would reveal his doubts about the Earl of Shrewsbury to Walsingham in person; such opinions were not to be consigned to paper.
He wondered for a moment whether Shrewsbury might intercept the letter, for he would guess it was not flattering to him. But Shrewsbury would know, too, that the information the letter contained could not be held back for long. Walsingham would learn of Leloup’s visit to Mary eventually. One way or another.
After the courier had gone, Shakespeare walked out into the bailey and ascended a flight of stone steps to the battlements. He was stopped at every turn by guards. Was this a special display for his benefit, or were they always so thorough?
From the ramparts, he looked out over Sheffield. It was a fair-sized market town, renowned for making steel cutlery. He gazed all around for ten minutes, trying to work out the lie of the land. Below him was one of the rivers that formed a moat most of the way around the castle. Not far off, he saw the Cutler’s Rest, and thought briefly of Miss Whetstone. He would take a chamber there rather than here in this grim castle.
He turned away and looked to
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