When Bernard did not answer, Jenkes merely shrugged and continued. "I will be back before first light, when I have made the arrangements. I leave you in Humphrey's care while you consider what you are going to tell me about your conversation with Thomas Allen."

"You would kill me to protect yourselves?" I asked, flailing as Humphrey lowered me with surprising gentleness to the floor and Bernard moved around to tie my ankles with another length of cord. Jenkes studied me severely.

"To protect the faith, Bruno," he answered eventually, reproach in his voice. "Everything I do is to protect and preserve our persecuted faith, therefore it is no sin in God's eyes."

"What of the sixth commandment?" My voice sounded choked and unusually high. "Thou shalt not kill?"

"I begin with the first two commandments. Thou shalt not have strange gods before me. Thou shalt not make to thyself a graven image." His eyes narrowed and he brought his face very close to mine, so that I could almost count the blackened pores on his nose. "This country-my country, Bruno, for I was born and remain an Englishman-my idolatrous country, then, has broken these commandments. The heretic bastard of the whore Anne Boleyn has set herself up as a rival to the Holy Father himself and the souls of her people are in mortal peril. To combat such heresy is holy war, not murder. But to show that I am no barbarian, Bruno, Father William will hear your confession before you die, if you choose to be reconciled to the Holy Mother Church."

"I will not confess myself to you," I said, through my teeth.

Jenkes did not seem put out. "No matter-it is between your conscience and your God," he shrugged, unwinding from around his neck a dirty linen scarf. Seizing my nose hard, he pinched it between his fingers until I was forced to open my mouth to breathe; as soon as I did so, he stuffed the scarf into my mouth until my jaw was stretched painfully wide and I was gagging on the material, unable to make any sound. For a hideous, panicked moment I thought he meant to suffocate me and began to struggle violently, but he released my nose and gave me a lingering look of distaste.

"You had better search his room in the college," he said brusquely to Bernard, who nodded. Jenkes once again rummaged inside my jerkin and found the key attached to my belt; quickly he tore it off and threw it to Bernard. It was of little consolation now, but at least I had the sheet with the copy of the cipher from Mercer's almanac tucked inside my shirt, and there was nothing in the chamber at Lincoln that could link me to Walsingham. I cursed my own stupidity in not sending word to Sidney of my plans; only Cobbett knew that I had gone out, but he would have no idea of where to look for me, or even that I was in danger, until my body was found tomorrow morning lying in an alley outside a whorehouse. I shuddered, the ache in my jaw worsening as I struggled to swallow my own saliva without choking on the scarf.

Jenkes gave me a last analytic glance, bent to check that my bonds were tight enough, then motioned to Bernard.

"I will see you soon enough, Bruno. Think carefully about what you want to tell me. This face of mine will seem the face of an angel compared to the way you'll look if I have to force it out of you. I hope that won't be necessary."

Bernard peered down at me, his lined face steely yet clouded with regret. Then he pulled the hood of his cloak around his ears and swept out of the room, leaving me alone with Humphrey Pritchard.

A tense stillness settled over the room. From somewhere downstairs there came the sound of a door closing. The candles on the altar had burned low now, tall plumes of black smoke rising from the stubs, the flames elongating and flickering, making Humphrey's shadow loom enormously on the wall behind him. He made no move to replace the candles; indeed, he seemed ill at ease with his new responsibility, lowering himself heavily to sit on the floor beneath the window, his back against the wall. Here he waited uncomfortably, watching me with a brow furrowed in mixed concern and apology. The only sound was my quick, shallow breaths through my nose, as I struggled to keep my breathing even and not to panic at the mass of cloth jamming my mouth. I saw that Humphrey carried a knife at his belt; his fingers strayed to it every few moments though I was sure that, for all his great size, the young man had a gentle nature and had only reluctantly assumed his role as Jenkes's strong-arm. I wondered if he would have the nerve to use the knife on me if I made an attempt to escape and decided he probably would; his fear of Jenkes would overcome his natural compassion.

A sharp wind rattled at the shutters; Humphrey started, whipped his head around, then laughed sheepishly at his own nerves. I implored him with my eyes, in case I might appeal to his better nature before Jenkes returned, though I had little hope he would take pity. Humphrey had better reason than anyone to know what Jenkes did to those who endangered the cause.

My shoulders had begun to ache from the unnatural position of my arms; I tried moving my wrists but the cords were bound too tightly to try wriggling free and cut badly into my flesh if I did so. I thought again of the faces I had recognised at the Mass. There was Richard Godwyn, who distributed Jenkes's clandestine books, and Rector Underhill's sharp-eyed old servant, Adam, both associated with the Catherine Wheel and with Lincoln College; either of them might have reasons for silencing the Fellows who had died, if only to protect themselves. Adam in particular, as I had thought earlier, would have no lack of opportunity to spirit away keys from the rector's lodgings-but if they faithfully attended Mass here, I could see no reason why they would want to draw attention to the Catherine Wheel group. I closed my eyes and leaned my head back against the wall. I had to concentrate on finding a way to escape; all this speculation would be worthless if I was to have my throat cut in an alley before sunrise. The thought brought a fresh convulsion of fear as the reality of my present situation began fully to sink in. I had feared for my life before, but never had I felt so helpless to fight for it.

I stretched my neck to try and ease the ache in my jaw, making the cut at the base of my throat gape and sting viciously; the pain made me catch my breath suddenly, sucking in a piece of the cloth which lodged in my throat. Half choking, I flung my head from side to side to try and dislodge it, emitting tiny strangled noises as I felt my eyes bulging alarmingly. It was only when I fell sideways with a thud and began writhing on the floor that Humphrey, realising what was happening, leaped to my side and began to claw the gag from my mouth. When finally he had extracted it altogether, I fell back limply against his shoulder, gasping for air, my eyes streaming.

"I'll leave it for now, Doctor Bruno, but you'd best not cry for help or I will be obliged to beat you," Humphrey whispered apologetically, propping me up against the wall as if I were a doll and watching me with concern.

"Does he really mean to kill me?" I asked in a croak, when eventually I could speak.

Humphrey looked at me doubtfully, his big good-natured face pained, as if caught between duty and compassion.

"He says you will bring down the Earl of Leicester and all the queen's soldiers on our heads," he whispered, his eyes growing wide, "and we shall be taken to the Tower and racked, even the women. Even Widow Kenney, and I won't let you do that," he added, suddenly determined.

"You are fond of Widow Kenney, then?" I asked softly.

Humphrey nodded emphatically. "She took me in when I first came to Oxford," he said earnestly, in his lilting voice. "Six years ago. I didn't have a penny. Now I have a home and a good job, and it is as if I have a family."