I glanced back at Slythurst, who was now calling up to someone leaning from a first-floor window. Cobbett moved so that his broad back was blocking me from Slythurst's sight and motioned for me to hand over the papers.

"They must get to Sir Philip Sidney without delay," I mouthed. "No one else must see them. Men have died for these papers, Cobbett. Can you swear your messenger is trustworthy?"

"On my life," he grunted. "Now in God's name, be on your way, Bruno, and God speed you. Bring back Sophia." The sound of more footsteps rang out on the flagstones; Cobbett eased open the small door just a crack and I quickly passed him the package wrapped in Norris's shirt, which immediately disappeared inside Cobbett's capacious old coat.

"Has Master Godwyn returned?" I hissed, as I slipped across the threshold. He frowned.

"I've seen no one leave the college tonight except you. The gate has been locked all this time."

"Then he must have left by another way, the grove, perhaps." So Godwyn too might still be at large, and I had a good idea of where I might find him.

Cobbett nodded, then pushed me urgently out into the lane and I heard the lock snap swiftly shut behind me.

I HARDLY DARED look over my shoulder as I ran as hard as I could into Cheney Lane, a narrow street that bordered Jesus College, almost opposite. Fortunately, buildings were sparse, and the brick stable block was not hard to find, even in the dark, by the smell and the soft noises of horses in sleep. I banged urgently on the gate, fearing that at any moment Slythurst and a gang of men from Lincoln might arrive to apprehend me for theft, while from the other direction I was still expecting Jenkes or any of his cronies, bent on killing me. After a few moments, a tousle-haired stableboy holding a candle opened the gate a crack, his eyes sleepy but scared.

"Sir?" he murmured, but I pushed roughly past him into the stable yard.

"I need my horse, son, this very instant. The one brought in last Friday, the grey-I am Doctor Bruno, of the royal party."

The boy's eyes widened further and he bit his lip.

"I am not supposed to let anyone take the horses out when Master Clayton is not here, sir. And he is a very fine horse."

"He is. From the queen's own stables. But I swear I am not stealing him. Now, bring him, will you?"

"I will be beaten, sir," he said, pleadingly. I could not blame him for his caution; quite apart from the hour, I could not have looked less like a royal visitor with my bruised face and bleeding throat. I hated having to resort to this, but once again I lifted the knife from my belt and let him have a brief glimpse of it. The poor child looked around as if someone might come to his assistance.

"Please," I added, in a gentler tone, as if this might improve the situation.

He hesitated for a moment, then appeared to decide that the prospective beating was the better option.

"It will take a few minutes to saddle him."

"Then don't. A harness only-but hurry, please, I do not have time to lose."

I wheeled around again to the door, thinking I heard footsteps, but there was only the shifting of the horses' hooves in their stalls. But my fear had communicated to the boy; he gave a silent nod and hastened off to fit the horse's halter. I stood, hopping from foot to foot and biting my lip as I watched the gate to the yard, careless of the pains in my hand, shoulders, throat, and now my back and head after my tussle with Slythurst; all that mattered was that I should not be detained. I hoped I had done the right thing in trusting Cobbett, but knew he was right; even if I rode to Christ Church myself, I would not be able to see Sidney at this time of night and could only leave my precious package with the porter there, while Slythurst would have alerted the constable and the watchmen that a thief had escaped from Lincoln and I would never get through the city gates. I could only pray that Slythurst did not intercept the papers before Cobbett's messenger managed to despatch them.

The boy appeared, anxiously leading my horse by his elaborate velvet harness, its brass trappings jingling loudly in the still air; the horse seemed sluggish and less than pleased to have been disturbed in the dark. I led him to a mounting block in the middle of the yard, then scrambled onto his back. He did a little dance of surprise and snorted in protest, but I held the reins firmly and he submitted. The boy held the gate open, and I kicked my heels into the horse's flanks and wheeled him around, turning him to the left, in the opposite direction to Lincoln College.

At the other end, Cheney Lane opened onto the North Street, and the faint pallor gradually staining the skyline to my left guided me eastward. Now I could just see enough to make out the covered stalls of the Corn-market ahead, and I urged the horse into a trot, though he seemed reluctant to quicken his pace, the miry ground slippery under his hooves. At the Car-fax crossroads I urged him left onto the High Street and presently saw the east gate ahead, where we had entered the city amid such pomp only five days earlier, its small barbican guarding the road out to London. The light of a lantern flickered in the ramparts of the tower and I knew that everything depended on my passing the watchmen here without being detained. Slythurst would have roused the college servants by now, and whoever had been sent in pursuit of me could not be far behind.

As I pulled the horse to a standstill a man in city livery brandishing a pikestaff stepped out from the gatehouse.

"Who goes there?" he barked, levelling it at me and taking a step forward. The horse whinnied in alarm.

"Royal messenger," I panted. "I carry an urgent message from Sir Philip Sidney."

"A shilling to pass before first light."

"I do not have a shilling. My orders are to take a message to the Privy Council in London without delay." I drew myself up on the horse, hoping that an authoritative manner would distract from my appearance. "And if this message does not get through, the Earl of Leicester will have your balls nailed to this gate as a warning, I swear it."

I glanced again over my shoulder, certain I could hear noises from farther up the High Street. The watchman hesitated for a moment, then laboriously began to unbolt and heave open the solid wooden gate while I reined the horse in tightly; he could sense my impatience and tension and was growing restless.

As I crossed the city boundary there came a distinct shout from behind me of "Hie! Stop that rider!"

I kicked my heels into the horse's flanks and urged him into a canter. Though the ground was still soft beneath his hooves, the road was at least wider, this being the main highway out to London, and the darkness was thinning a little, the stars growing paler as dawn light edged the eastern horizon toward which I rode. Wind caught the horse's mane as he obligingly thundered through the ruts of cartwheels and potholes, just as it stung my own eyes and nose as I crouched low over his neck, trying to keep my grip without a saddle, occasionally glancing behind me to see if anyone was following. He was a fast horse, and soon it seemed that we had covered enough distance to make it extremely difficult for anyone to catch us. Now that I could breathe again, I found room for doubts about the sense of my plan. It had seemed obvious, when I was talking to Humphrey, that I would find the missing pieces of the puzzle at Hazeley Court, but now that I was out of the city with no real idea of how to find the place, I wondered if I had only made a wild guess that would come to nothing, while the drama played itself out to the last by another route altogether.

I had ridden for perhaps half an hour, the sky growing lighter all the time and the birdsong more insistent with it, while a damp mist rose from the hedgerows, obscuring the distant fields. The scent of wet earth rose in my nostrils. There was no sign of any settlement and I began to grow fearful that I had made a terrible mistake; not only might I fail to find Thomas and Sophia before it was too late, but now I could not turn back. If Jenkes or Slythurst had pursued me from the city and caught up with me on this forsaken road, there would be no one to come to my aid.