“For which reason, of course, ‘tis a crime to give aid or shelter to a priest,” said Shakespeare.

“Precisely. Well, Brother Andrew was one such agent, and he traveled often between England and Spain, though secretly, of course, for ‘twould have meant his death if his true identity were known. He knew Alastair and Allison quite well, because when he was younger, he had been their tutor. Alastair, raised in the strong traditions of the Catholic Church, had wanted to be a priest himself, but Brother Andrew found a better use for him when he learned, apparently quite by accident, that Alastair and Allison had a twin, or perhaps I should say a triplet brother back in England.”

“So then he turned them against their own family?” said Shakespeare.

“And quite successfully, it seems. He played upon their sense of loss and fanned it into hatred. He made them believe their father had abandoned them, together with their mother, and that he and Anthony were now living a life of privileged position, having turned their backs on God along with the rest of heretic England, save for those loyal Catholic souls who still maintained the true faith in secret, at risk to their very lives. And he convinced Alastair and his sister that they both could best serve the Church by coming back to England, taking their rightful place, and working in secret for the cause. And thus the plan was hatched.

“As Andrew Drummond, he managed to secure a position as a servant to Sir Anthony. With his manners and his education, ‘twas probably not difficult at all for him to do. Then, once he was secure in his position, he proceeded with his incredible plan to substitute Alastair for Anthony. But there were two obstacles in his way. One was Mistress Darcie, who had been betrothed to Anthony. Well, you have already surmised what they must have planned for her.” Elizabeth shivered in her cloak and her father clenched his fists upon the table. “The other impediment to their plan,” Sir William continued, “was a spy who appeared to be very effective at exposing Papist agents who were being sent to England. The identity of this spy was not known to Brother Andrew, but he had managed to discover ‘twas a poet, a gifted poet who had achieved considerable acclaim among the players.”

“Marlowe!” Smythe said.

“Aye, Marlowe,” said Sir William, nodding. “Only they did not know his name.” He glanced at Shakespeare. “Alastair was posing as his brother Anthony, by then already slain, when Burbage, anxious to secure some patronage, rather bombastically introduced you to him as a man about to make his mark as England’s greatest poet, so Alastair thought you were the one. And there are some other similarities between you and Marlowe. You are both roughly the same age, both poets, both involved with companies of players… Well, Alastair at once went to meet with his sister and report what he had discovered. And they hired those men to kill you.”

“They very nearly did,” said Shakespeare.

“Indeed. ‘Twas fortunate that Tuck, here, became involved and followed them, or else they might well have succeeded.”

“But what puzzles me is what you were doing there, Sir William,” Smythe said.

“I was following you,” Sir William said.

“Me?” Smythe was astonished. “You followed me? But why?”

“Because, I am sorry to say, I had suspected you of being the one sent to dispose of Marlowe.”

“You thought that I was a hired killer?” Smythe said, scarcely able to believe it.

“Well, to borrow your theatrical terms, if I were to cast the role of an assassin, you would fill it admirably,” explained Sir William. “A stranger come to town with no connections, young, very fit, powerfully strong, and you at once sought employment with a company of players. Black Billy the brigand is an agent of mine who often enables me to keep track of who is coming to the city at certain times, when information reaches me through other sources that a spy or provocateur may be en route to London. If soldiers were to stop every coach and wagon coming into London along certain routes, there would be repercussions, and a spy might be prepared for that sort of thing. On the other hand, if a highwayman accosts them…”

“Then no one thinks twice about it,” Shakespeare said, realizing that Sir William had bent the truth a bit because of the Darcies’ presence. “And it does not alert anyone that coaches and wagons en route to London are being checked. Very clever, milord. Very clever, indeed.”

“But… you mean to say that you suspected all along that I might be an agent sent to murder Marlowe?” Smythe asked, incredulously.

“Or at the very least to discover who he truly was,” Sir William replied. “And then, perhaps, either dispose of him yourself or else oversee the task.”

“But you told me about Marlowe yourself!” said Smythe. “And you revealed…” he caught himself just in time. “You revealed certain other things to me, besides! Why do those things if you suspected me?”

“Because by then I had begun to have my doubts,” Sir William said. “I had begun to have them even before I had you investigated, Tuck, and I found out about your uncle, and about your childhood, and your father’s difficulties, and your burning desire to become a player. None of that seemed to fit the portrait of a hired Papist assassin. Most especially, you had never been abroad to Spain or France. And I also had another suspect. You see, Black Billy had robbed Sir Anthony’s coach shortly after he encountered you. And when his report reached me, I thought ‘twas quite a curious thing to find Sir Anthony on the road to London, when just the previous day, I had seen him at court. Of course, ‘twas not Sir Anthony at all, but Drummond bringing Alastair to London, probably from Bristol, where he had arrived by ship. So I surmised that Gresham had a double, perhaps a twin, but I still needed to be certain about you. And so I took a risk, and dangled Marlowe before you as bait to see if you would rise to it.”

“Was that not taking a dreadful chance with Marlowe’s life, milord?” asked Shakespeare.

“Aye, indeed,” Sir William said, “but when you play this sort of game, and for these sort of stakes, then you cannot afford to have much in the way of caution or scruples. And the truth of the matter is that Marlowe is as much of a liability as he is an asset. The things he says and does make it difficult to overlook his indiscretions. Especially since he brings so much attention to himself. He is a clever young man, and quite resourceful, but he is also very difficult, if not nearly impossible to manage. The Papists came to him while he was pursuing his studies at university and recruited him into their cause. He, in turn, came straight to us and offered to work against the efforts of the Counter-Reformation.”

“Us?” said Smythe.

“Her Majesty’s Secret Service,” said Sir William, “under Sir Francis Walsingham. And now, you realize, you are privy to knowledge that would cost you your heads if you were ever to reveal it.”

Elizabeth gasped and her father nodded gravely, to indicate that he understood the severity of this responsibility. “Neither my daughter nor I shall ever tell a soul!” he said, somberly.

“Nor I,” said Smythe, uneasily. Shakespeare swallowed nervously and nodded in agreement.

“Had I any doubts upon that score, then I should not have told you any of this,” Sir William said. “Besides, I have a feeling that you may all prove useful, should it ever come to pass that Her Majesty has need of you.”

“Angels and ministers of grace defend us!” Shakespeare said. “I would make a dreadful spy, milord! I fear I have not the mettle nor the constitution for it!”

Sir William smiled. “Then we shall try neither your mettle nor your constitution, Master Shakespeare. But we shall assay your constancy, methinks. There are many ways that one may serve.”