‘I cannot stay there for long myself, as I am supposed to dine the same night at my lodgings with a friend who has promised to bring Ballard with him. This may be our chance to arrest Ballard, so I must be there, even if I need to pose as another victim of justice. You may have to arrest me as well.’

Mylles was relieved to have definite news of Babington and the fact that many of the conspirators would be gathered together at the Castle Inn on Thursday meant that it might be possible to arrest them there. But Ballard must also be secured. He sat down to write a swift report to Sir Francis.

‘Kit, will you call Cassie? I need him to take this to Sir Francis at once.’

With this letter on its way, Mylles relaxed a little. At least Sir Francis would now be able to advise on what action to take.

By Thursday the twenty-eighth, we knew that Phelippes was on his way back to London and would be with Walsingham the following day to discuss what should be done next. We were all now in a state of sleepless anxiety. Babington’s dinner would go ahead that evening, and Mylles had instructed me to accompany Berden and Cassie and several others to keep watch on the inn. No one was sure whether Ballard would come to the Castle Inn, or would be brought to Berden’s lodgings by his friend, or whether he had already fled the country. For the moment, Sir Francis had told us to make no arrests but to keep the conspirators under surveillance, so that they should not slip through our fingers and succeed in carrying out their plans at the last minute.

Six of the men at that dinner would be those pledged to assassinate the Queen. If we failed, the Queen herself might die.

In the early evening, Berden, Cassie and I found ourselves a table in the window of a small ale-house in Cornhill opposite the main door to the Castle. Berden had already stationed one of his men in a room next to the one Babington had hired for his dinner. There he would sit in the dark with the door ajar and take note who arrived for the meal, since we could not be sure that everyone would enter the inn from the door we were watching. As we sat sipping our watered ale and picking at some dry and mouldy cheese not fit for a mousetrap, we watched provisions for a lavish banquet being carried in across the road.

‘That’s making my mouth water,’ Cassie said with a rueful laugh, as two men staggered into the Castle bearing a game pie almost as large as a washtub.

Berden merely grunted. He was clearly in a state of indecision as to whether he should stay with us or return to his lodgings. Then one of his servants arrived with a message. Berden’s friend (whose name he had not revealed) had sent over a capon and two rabbits to the landlady to prepare for their dinner.

‘Clearly he plans to bring someone else with him,’ Berden said, ‘else he would not have sent so much.’

That was enough to decide him.

‘Landlord!’ he called to the greasy fellow who had served us. ‘I need paper and ink.’

A scrap of paper as greasy as the landlord and a crusted inkwell were eventually produced after much searching. Berden cursed as he tried to salvage enough ink to write a note to Mylles, which he told me to carry across London to Mylles’s house near the Tower as quickly as I could run.

‘I have asked him to come to the Exchange by eight o’clock, and to disguise himself somewhat. We do not want these fellows recognising him. He will need to take charge here while I go to my lodgings in the hope that Ballard comes.’

As I tucked the note into my doublet, he ran his hand worriedly through his hair. ‘Even if Ballard does come, there is little I can do. I have no arrest warrant.’

‘Have you asked Mylles for one?’ Cassie said.

‘Aye. But he will need to go to Sir Francis. He’ll not get it tonight.’

‘Will you follow Ballard?’ I said. ‘To see where he lodges?’

‘Aye. Now be off with you. It’s past six. We are running out of time.’

We set off together, Berden hurrying to his lodgings and I running across London, dodging in and out of the crowds, nearly tripped up and sent flying when a cur ran between my feet.

I was nearly there and had been forced to slow to a walk and catch my breath, when I was grabbed by the arm. I jerked myself away, ready to run again.

‘Kit! What ails you?’ It was Simon.

‘B’yer Lady, Simon, you frightened me!’

‘What is the matter? What are you afraid of?’

‘I’m not afraid. I’m carrying an urgent message. I must go, Simon.’

‘I’ll come with you. Where are you going?’

‘Tower Hill.’ I began to walk rapidly on and he matched my pace.

‘I had hoped to see you when you returned from the north.’ I thought he sounded somewhat annoyed.

‘My time had not been my own since then, nor will be for some while yet.’

‘More of these secret affairs?’

‘Aye. Truly, I cannot speak of them.’

‘Walsingham, no doubt.’ He was certainly frowning now.

I touched his arm lightly. ‘I would tell you if I could. But before long it will be the talk of the London streets and I will be free to return to my normal life.’

‘You are not in danger, are you?’ His voice had softened.

It warmed my heart to hear him say this and I stopped for a moment.

‘No. I . . . I don’t think so.’ I realised suddenly that I might be.

‘Well, be careful. I have not so many good companions that I can afford to lose one.’ With that he clasped me in a sudden, unexpected hug. ‘Come to the Theatre once you are free.’

‘I will.’

I watched him turn and walk away with a strange churning of emotions. I had never felt his body close against mine until that hug and part of me wanted to cry after him that I was not what I seemed, that I loved him. But in the same moment I knew I could not tell him, for fear that I might lose him for ever. No, to keep Simon’s friendship I must remain a boy. I began to run on towards Mylles’s house, stupidly brushing away my tears.

Mylles acted quickly once he had read Berden’s note. He donned a hooded cloak, which was a poor disguise, but might suffice in the crowds round the Exchange, once it was getting dark. That would depend on how long the dinner lasted. He shouted to one of his servants to see that two horses were saddled for us. It was already past seven o’clock when I reached his house. We could only be sure of arriving at the Castle by eight if we went on horseback.

We went first to Cassie at the ale-house, who told us that all the company seemed to have arrived, including Babington, but there was no sign of Ballard. Then I accompanied Mylles around to the alley leading from other door, where we skulked amongst the crowds until the dinner guests had dispersed. The alley itself, like every other alley in London, was clogged with rubbish and stank of cat, and worse. Berden’s man who had been keeping watch inside the inn emerged when the dinner was over and confirmed that Ballard had not been present.

I rode back with Mylles to his house to await word from Berden. It was past two of the morning when he arrived.

‘No Ballard,’ he said grimly, throwing himself down in a chair. His eyes were bleared with exhaustion. ‘Or “Black Fortescue” as he is now calling himself.’ He gave a snort of disgust.

‘Does he think himself a pirate?’ I asked.

‘He is like a player, acting out his fantasies,’ Berden said. ‘I could laugh at him, did I not know he is so dangerous. What has he done with Gifford? I fear the worst.’

‘So your evening, like ours, was wasted,’ Mylles said.

‘Not quite. My guest assured me that Black Fortescue is in Sussex at the moment, but will be back in London soon. We must have an arrest warrant ready. At the moment we are like children playing games, running about after them while they flaunt their conspiracy under our very noses in the centre of London.’

‘I will write to Sir Francis at once, explaining how urgent it is that we have a warrant to arrest Ballard,’ said Mylles, and sat down to do it.