‘Well,’ he said with a sigh, ‘Babington does not plan to massacre people on the streets, I am sure, but he does plan for assassins to kill the Queen and for foreign troops to invade England. No doubt he hides from himself what the consequences will be. Or perhaps he has begun to understand, at last. That is why he wants to go abroad. To run away from this great boulder he has started rolling down the hill. He is afraid of what it may crush. Or perhaps not. The letter he writes to the Scottish queen will make all clear, one way or the other. Will he stay or will he run away?’

‘You want him to stay, do you not?’

‘Yes, Kit. I do. Because these conspiracies to murder our Queen and put Mary on the throne in her place have gone on long enough. This is, at the very least, the seventh plot to kill Her Majesty since she came to the throne. It is time matters were brought to a head at last. Apart from murder and invasion and a forced return to the power of the papacy, have you ever thought what would become of this country with that woman on the throne? A woman who arranged the murder of her own husband? A woman so hated by her own people in Scotland that they cast her off the throne? Her own son wants nothing to do with her and has rejected her religion. As queen she would destroy this country.’

I leaned my elbows on my knees and put my head in my hands. I knew when I was defeated.

‘What do you want me to do?’ I said.

He got up and poured me another glass of wine.

‘Drink it,’ he said, as he sat down again. ‘In a few minutes you must go home and get some rest. I do not want you to do very much, Kit. Babington wants you to deliver his answer to the Scottish queen. First you will bring it here to be deciphered, then you will ride to Chartley and deliver it. Once you have done that, stay nearby. Thomas and Arthur Gregory will be coming after you, but not with you. Gifford is still acting as courier. We expect Mary’s response to Babington will be despatched in the usual way, in the beer barrels taken from the house to the brewer. Gifford will hand it over in Chartley, instead of bringing it to London, so you and Thomas will decipher it there, Gregory will reseal it, and Gifford will despatch it. You can then all return to London.’

‘That is all?’

‘That is all.’

Apart from that long, long ride, it did not sound so terrible now, particularly if Phelippes and Gregory would be there with me.

‘Very well,’ I said.

‘Good. Now go home, take off those dreadful clothes and rest for two days. Then we will see.’

At the door of his chamber I paused and turned back.

‘It is not that I do not understand the terrible danger to England, Sir Francis. It is that I do not think I am the right person for this work.’

‘You underrate yourself, Kit,’ he said.

Two days later I donned the clothes of ‘Simon’ the messenger boy and collected Hector from the Seething Lane stable. I was to present myself at Hernes Rents as ready to ride north at once, but would in fact return to Walsingham’s house where the letter would be opened, copied and resealed before I set out. Once again I was apprehensive, in case someone followed me, but I hoped I could weave a way through the back streets of the city and lose any pursuer.

When I reached Babington’s lodgings, however, all this careful scheming was thrown into disarray. The door was opened by a different servant, not in Babington’s livery, who shook his head when I asked for Sir Anthony.

‘He’s not here any more. He’s moved to lodgings in Fleet Street. Some tailor’s house.’ And he shut the door in my face.

My heart sank. I had not wanted this task, but having taken it on I did not want to fail in it. Babington had told me to come here. Why had he moved and left no word for me? I remembered that Phelippes had told me he was constantly moving from house to house. He had once mentioned a tailor’s house on Fleet Street, just outside Temple Bar. I could go back to Seething Lane to ask for directions, or I could try to find it myself. I decided on the latter course, thinking I could always return to Walsingham’s if I could not find it.

It proved easier than I expected, as there was only one tailor’s premises near Temple Bar, an ancient rambling house with the business premises on the ground floor, opening on to the street, and several other doors and staircases leading to wings that had been added to the original building. I enquired in the shop and one of the doors was pointed out to me. When I knocked, the serving man I had seen before opened it to me.

‘Good. You found us.’ He beckoned me inside. ‘You were given Sir Anthony’s message to come here?’

I shook my head. ‘A man just said Sir Anthony was lodging with a tailor in Fleet Street. He did not give me any message.’

The man clicked his tongue in annoyance.

‘Is the letter ready?’ I asked. ‘I should be off. It’s a long ride.’

‘Sir Anthony has changed his mind,’ he said. ‘He left for Lichfield yesterday.’

Dismay must have showed on my face, for he smiled. ‘Don’t worry. You’ll still earn your fee. He wants you to ride after him and meet him at the White Hart Inn. He will finish his letter there, and be on hand for the reply. He left this to pay for your inn at Lichfield. Better you stay at a different inn, he says, but call on him as soon as you arrive.’

He handed me a purse. Quite a heavy purse. Sir Anthony was generous with his money. He was known to be wealthy, but many wealthy men are misers. I stowed the purse in my pocket.

‘I’ll be off then.’

He showed me to the door. It was a strange, disreputable lodging for a man of Sir Anthony’s standing.

‘God go with you on your journey,’ he said.

‘Thank you. God be with you.’

As I unhitched Hector and mounted, I thought again of how courteously a poor messenger boy was treated by Sir Anthony and his servant. However, I now had a problem. I could not take the letter back to Phelippes, for I had no letter. I would, however, need to return to Seething Lane to explain the change in plans.

When I told him of Babington’s departure, Phelippes frowned at first, and then shrugged.

‘It cannot be helped. Arthur and I intend to follow you tomorrow anyway. There is a small inn in the village, Stowe-by-Chartley. We’ll take rooms there. Once you have collected the letter in Lichfield come to us in Stowe.’

He rubbed his eyes, as he often did when thinking.

‘That horse you ride is very conspicuous. Someone from the manor might notice it. You’d better conceal him somewhere outside the village and come to the inn on foot. Then when we have the letter resealed for you, you can ride up to the manor house as though you have just arrived.’

I nodded. It was a wise precaution. Hector was unmistakable.

My second journey to Lichfield was much like the first, save that I now knew the way, so that it seemed to pass more quickly. The weather was, if anything, even hotter. In the fields that we passed the cut hay lay drying and the wheat and barley stood tall and golden, but there had been little rain in recent weeks to plump the grain. After several wet summers, the farmers might be glad of the heat to dry the hay, but I found it worrying. This was the kind of weather that bred the plague. I should be in the hospital, not careering about the country.

A long ride along a known route leaves much time for thinking and I gave a good deal of thought to how I might extricate myself from Walsingham’s service. His further description of what had happened in Paris had frightened me badly, awakening memories of Portugal that I had managed to bury for the last four years. I knew I must complete this mission, which he deemed so crucial for the safety and security of both Queen and country, but when it was ended – and surely it would soon be ended? – I would tell him that I no longer wished to work for him.