“Now if you do it randomly, of course, you have to make sure everyone you write to has the key. That’s dangerous as well-you could lose it or your enemies could capture it. A good codebreaker can break that one as well if you’ve written enough or been careless.”
Dodd looked at the uncommunicative numbers. Surely Carey couldn’t do something like that?
“I know some of the common patterns used so when I have the time I can try a few out on it. And we can try and find a code book. Do you think you could go back and search Tregian’s room again?”
“Nay sir, I dinna think so. It’s likely got a new man in it.”
“Hm. It might be worth going and charming mine host for it. Failing a code book I’m just going to have to try and break the bloody thing.” Carey puffed a sigh out. “God, I wish I’d paid more attention to my lessons with Mr. Phelippes instead of chasing Scottish ladies.”
Dodd grunted. That was no surprise.
Dodd looked again at the numbers and at the letters at the start. “A,” he said. “Is that the codebook?”
“Could be. And of course the really interesting point is what is a ciphered letter in invisible ink which comes from either Topcliffe or Heneage-or perhaps is intended for them-doing in Richard Tregian’s chamber? Especially if he’s going to end up being executed by them.”
Carey blinked at the copies and yawned cavernously. “We’ll have a try at possibilities tomorrow,” he said, “I’m going to bed.”
Thursday 14th September 1592, dawn
Dodd was woken by a hammering on the door. He woke up fully to find himself at the door in his shirt with his sword drawn and raised to strike whoever it was had just ruined a very fine dream about Janet. Carey’s voice rang out.
“Come on, Sergeant Dodd, get your arse out of bed, the sun’s nearly up…”
From the sound of it Carey too was in a temper and as usual full of energy and enterprise at a time when more decent folk were still asleep. The London sky had barely started to pale. Dodd lowered his sword regretfully, unbolted the door, put the sword on the bed and started assembling the daft confection of cloth he had to wear in this Godforsaken hell hole. He refused to let a man help him with it which was why it always took him so long, especially with it happening in the morning and all. He looked longingly at his nice comfy homespun suit Janet had woven for him and that he had been so proud of when he first came to London. At least he had to admit that he was the target of a lot fewer London coney-catchers when he wasn’t wearing it.
There was another bang of fist on panelling. Shrugging the braces over his shoulders and bending to pull his boots on, he called, “It’s no’ locked,” and Carey burst through the door looking furious.
“That bloody lawyer’s bolted,” he snarled at Dodd, who just sighed.
“Ay, o’course.”
“Why of course?”
“Anybody could see he wis hiding something.”
“Course he was, he’s a lawyer, but why’d he bolt?” Dodd said nothing and Carey started to pace up and down after finding that the wine flagon was empty. “Steward says he went to his bedchamber last night and this morning there’s no sign of him at all.”
Dodd was struggling into his doublet. “Nae doot of it, he’s out of London and heading for his ain country,” he said wistfully because it was what he would have done.
“May I remind you, Sergeant, that we have to appear in Court this morning in order to swear out a bill against Heneage in his absence. For that we need a lawyer and Enys’ the only one we’ve got.”
Dodd sighed again, fumbling with his multiple buttons. Carey came over impatiently and twitched it into place on Dodd’s shoulders, then briskly started rebuttoning. He was, inevitably, immaculate in black velvet and brocade, though his breath was as bad as a dog’s.
“So let’s get over to the Temple and see if we can find the blasted man before he leaves.”
“He’d go back there first would he?” Dodd said, wondering if even a lawyer could be so stupid.
“Course he would, you could see how upset he was about it being ransacked. Probably got a little treasure trove of fees and bribes there.”
“Ay sir, but I wouldnae…”
“He’s an idiot. That’s where he’ll be,” said Carey looking distinctly furtive as he stepped into the corridor.“Come on, hurry up before my lady mother wakes and insists on coming too.”
Despite not having had any breakfast or small beer to wake him up, Dodd’s mouth turned down with the effort of not laughing at Carey’s tone of voice when speaking of his mother. Dodd rather liked the old lady, but he could see how she was a terrible trial to her sons.
The steward had orders that Carey was not to stir without a bodyguard-no doubt by order of Lady Hunsdon, and equally doubtless to keep him from leaping into trouble as well as protecting him in case trouble should come to find him.
After considerable argument they went out with two Berwickmen in buff coats and Shakespeare. According to him Marlowe wasn’t up yet which was perfectly normal. Or had he shinned out of the window too, Dodd wondered.
“His window overlooks the courtyard and his door is locked,” Shakespeare said primly in answer to Carey’s suspicious look. “I have seen to it that he has paper, pens and ink, food, booze, and tobacco any time he cares to call for them. He’ll be no trouble, trust me. He will know that Topcliffe will wait until he shows his nose and then arrest him for thwarting the ambush in the Mermaid at Sir Robert’s urging.”
Which Marlowe himself had set up by sending the potboy to Topcliffe and paying the roaring boys earlier to make their feint attack on Fleet Street. What a fool the poet was, Dodd thought. Heneage must have ordered him to do it as soon as the clerk of the court warned him to avoid Carey’s arrest. Mind, it must have been fun to watch him, he would have been enraged. Perhaps that was why Marlowe had gone along with it.
They found Enys’ chambers by asking around. It was at the very top of a tottering building facing a dilapidated courtyard that had apparently just been bought by the Earl of Essex. They left Shakespeare and the Berwickmen in the courtyard and went up. At the top of the rickety stairs was a door that had plainly been broken into and then set back carefully in place later. Carey started by knocking politely. After a long wait there was a sound from inside. Carey hammered on the wall next to it.
“Mr. Enys,” he bellowed. “Enys, God damn your eyes, open up!”
“One moment,” came the cry. They waited. Dodd went to the small window on the landing and peered out at the Berwickmen who were standing around looking bored. Shakespeare was sitting on a mounting block scribbling in his notebook. At last there was the sound of furniture being scraped back and a broken panel was pulled away. A woman peered through the gap. In the dim light they could see there was something wrong with her face as well as her eyes being swollen with tears.
“Is Mr. Enys within, mistress?” asked Carey, moderating his tone a little.
The woman sniffled and shook her head. “He was away from home last night and he came back in a hurry very early this morning and then was away again, he said, to see that Mr. Heneage’s bill was fouled in his absence as quickly as possible.”
Carey looked taken aback. “Oh. Westminster?”
“So he said.”
“Well, Mrs. Enys…”
“No sir, Mr. Enys is my brother. My name is Mrs. Morgan.”
Carey paused. “Ah? Really? My mother’s family name is Morgan…I wonder if there’s a connection.”
“I don’t know, sir. My husband’s cousin Henry Morgan was a well-known…er…sea trader.”
“Can we come in?”
For answer the woman started removing a piece of door. Dodd and Carey helped her and entered Enys’ chambers.