Andrew, although it was now three days since he had slept, stayed up a good deal longer. It was the early hours of the Wednesday morning when he finally agreed to rest for the remainder of the night. He intended to sleep for four or five hours, this being sufficient, he decided, to restore his energies. In case of bodily disobedience, he instructed Ralph to awaken him at the appropriate time later that morning.
While Tyballis slept fitfully, constantly awakened by fear and distrust, her dreams interrupted by night terrors, Andrew immediately entered a state reminiscent of coma and remained deeply unconscious, uninterrupted by any of the careful noises around him. When he finally opened his eyes, he saw Ralph’s face gazing earnestly down upon him. Andrew blinked away the last shreds of sleep. He smiled faintly and said, ‘Is it that time already, my friend?’
Ralph cleared his throat, and shook his head with apologetic sympathy. ‘Well, Mister Cobham, in a manner of speaking it is. The time being whatever it is, or whenever it is, as you might say.’
Andrew wedged himself up on both elbows. ‘Instead I might say you’re being purposefully obscure. Where’s the boy?’ he demanded. ‘You haven’t let him go?’
Ralph shook his head again. ‘No, nor the brat hasn’t got nowhere to go. Lived under the kitchen bench at that other house, and has neither parents nor guardian to take him in. Harry, he’s called. Harry Ringer. Begging your pardon, he’s having his supper in your kitchens.’
‘Supper?’ queried Andrew, one eyebrow raised. ‘Have I not slept at all, then?’
Ralph looked contrite. ‘Indeed, you slept long and deep, sir, and I hadn’t the heart to wake you. I did try to call at the hour you asked, give or take, that is, since I’d no clock But you never roused nor even blinked, sir, and so I let you be.’
Andrew sat up in a hurry. ‘Damnation, Ralph. It was important. What time is it now by your reckoning?’
‘Nine of the clock, Mister Cobham, for I heard the curfew bell not a minute past.’ Ralph had moved back to the doorway, as if expecting retaliation.
‘Nine at night?’ demanded Andrew.
Ralph nodded sorrowfully. ‘It is. You slept all day, but I’ve not wasted those hours. The boy talked a great deal, is full of gossip and ready to admit to everything. Feed the brat, and he’ll chatter on till you clout him to shut up. And he’s promised to talk to the duke, too, sir, if that’s where you intend taking him now.’
Andrew abruptly swung his legs from the bed and began to dress. ‘Yes, I shall go immediately to Crosby’s. But what of Tyballis, Mister Tate? What if I’ve slept while she suffered?’
‘Tybbs is alive, sir.’ Ralph helped Andrew with his doublet and coat. ‘The boy knows she was there, and saw her, too. And he says she’s in no danger, for she promised to turncoat, and spy for Dorset. She’s to be set free and come back to you, sir, collecting information to relate back to them.’
Andrew paused. ‘A great relief, I admit, should it be true,’ he said eventually. ‘So, we act now. I must be off to Baynard’s, and I’ll take the boy with me.’
Tyballis was still slumped miserably on the bed when the old woman entered, bringing a bowl of gruel and a cup of ale which she placed on the floor beside her. ‘Well then,’ she said, wrinkling her whiskered nose. ‘Ain’t got no thanks? No common manners? This is good food, it is, miss, and all I got in the house. Be grateful, or you’ll get naught tomorrow.’
‘I am starving,’ Tyballis frowned, ‘and half-dead of thirst.’
The woman indicated the bowl with a well-knuckled finger. ‘Lucky, you are, to get it. His lordship says as how you’re no more than a dirty whore and so to let you starve. My Christian good nature has took pity on you, that’s all.’
Tyballis drank the ale before speaking. ‘Who are you?’ she asked, spooning the gruel.
The woman shook her head. Grey hair streaked in white escaped from her cap. ‘I’m to answer no questions, his lordship said,’ she mumbled, backing hurriedly. ‘Don’t talk to the whore, he says. So, I won’t. Nor can you make me, for I’m a loyal servant, and always have been. I was little Esmund’s nurse, and looked after him afore he was neither man nor baron, after his mamma died young, and his papa went off fighting for the king.’
Tyballis finished the gruel. ‘It was an excellent meal,’ she lied, ‘and thank you indeed. You are most kind. And although you must not answer my questions, perhaps you could tell me where the baron is now?’
‘Can’t tell,’ the woman shook her head and further dislodged her cap. ‘Won’t tell. Nor won’t tell when his lordship is due back, nor that he’s likely gone home to his own grand house, I reckon, coming back here maybe tomorrow. There’s happenings to sort at the Tower for the new little king, and orders from the mighty Marquess of Dorset. For he’s an important gentleman, is my little Esmund, and will surely see to all them things first afore he comes back to deal with you.’
‘An important man indeed,’ gulped Tyballis. ‘And, being such a beautiful house and such a nice bed, I imagine perhaps – is this your house, mistress?’
‘That it is,’ said the woman, snatching up the empty cup and bowl. ‘Bought it for me hisself, my dear lord did, out of kindness and noble righteousness. And it’s my bed you’re in, while I sleeps on the pallet downstairs, for his lordship wants you locked up safe. Keep the wench hungry, and say naught to her, my Esmund says. Which is what I’ll be doing, just like he told me. So, I’ll answer no questions, and will not tattle neither. You get to sleep now, and cause no trouble.’
Tyballis smiled, which was an effort. ‘May I at least know your name, mistress? And anything the Lord Esmund mentioned of his intentions towards me?’
The woman looked suspicious and sniffed. ‘Manners, it is, to give my name, I reckon. So, it’s Mary – Mary Notgrin, and a respectable spinster I am. As for his lordship, I’m not to tell. But you’ll not be leaving here in a hurry, that’s for sure. And he’ll be teaching you a lesson, his lordship will, and punish you good and proper for your wicked ways.’
Andrew crossed southwards through the city’s darkened lanes and approached the evening lights of Baynard’s Castle. Harry marched at his side, Andrew’s hand heavy on his shoulder. Once inside, Andrew reported to the steward, requesting a private audience with the Lord Protector, using the word of code with which he was already familiar. He remained in brisk discussion with the duke for only minutes, then again crossed the city, still firmly leading Harry north to the annexe at Crosby’s where Ralph was waiting. Drew passed the young spit-boy into Ralph’s care with instructions to return to the rented property in Stinking Lane for the night, then to check again on the St Giles house once the city gates were opened on the following morning before finally returning home to Portsoken. Once Ralph and the boy had left, Andrew set out directly for the river.
With the Bridge closed for the night, he crossed the river by boat and took the Long Southwark road to the apartment above the tavern where William Colyngbourne lodged. The tavern was closed, and the upper chamber deserted, so after hammering on the door over the stables, Mister Cobham extracted the information he required from the ostler, who had staggered out in his undershirt and rubbing his eyes.
‘He’s secretive, is Mister Colyngbourne,’ the ostler shook his head. ‘Takes a riverboat regular, he does, and goes to the city, or further west up to St Giles. Has a few grand friends, as I reckon you knows, being a lord yourself, sir, like as not.’