‘Jump,’ he said, ‘I’ll break your fall.’ And he jumped down to the ground below the wall.
I dared not risk it. Painfully I began to feel my way down, until I felt him grip me around the waist.
‘Now,’ he breathed.
I slithered down the last few feet and managed to land with my weight on my left foot.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered, disengaging myself and hoping he had not felt the shape of my body too clearly in those few moments. ‘This way.’
‘I know where we are now. This isn’t far from an alley that runs through to my street.’
I let him lead the way, limping along behind. When we reached the street of tailors’ shops, he stopped.
‘There are some things it would be wiser not to leave behind,’ he said. ‘I’m going into my house for a few minutes. You can go on ahead.’
I shook my head. ‘If you can give me something for a bandage, I’ll strap my ankle before we go any further.’
‘Some shirt cloth?’
‘Aye.’
We both laughed. It was relief at having escaped from the citadel, but there was still a long way to go, down through the dark and dangerous streets of the town. When we reached it, we found that Titus’s house had been broken into and stripped of every crumb of food. I realised I was suddenly hungry, for I had eaten nothing since leaving the ship before dawn. He was able to find me some cloth for a bandage and while I strapped my ankle tightly he went upstairs, where I could hear him apparently moving furniture. When he reappeared, he was tucking a small book into the breast of his doublet.
‘My codes,’ he explained. ‘I had them hidden under the floorboards, but once it was noticed I was gone, someone might have come looking.’
I nodded. He had lit a candle so that I could see what I was doing and I now had my first good look at him. He was older than I had realised, well into his late thirties, with some grey just beginning to show in his hair. But he was slender and wiry, and, as I had seen, quite able to climb difficult obstacles.
‘So you’re the young code-breaker,’ he said. ‘I’ve heard of you. Portuguese? That’s how you managed to pass yourself off as Spanish. I’m glad to get out of there. They didn’t only want me to sew uniforms for them. Some awkward questions have been asked, and if they hadn’t been so occupied defending the citadel I was facing interrogation under torture.’
He shuddered.
‘I was watched all the time. I’m not sure I could have got away tonight if it hadn’t been for that fresh attack. Luis was set to keep me under guard.’
‘I thought the attack was by chance,’ I said, ‘but Norreys knew I was coming. Perhaps he intended it as a diversion.’
‘Whether or not, it was timely. I’m sorry I can give you nothing to eat.’
‘Let’s go. The sooner we reach the ships, the better.’
I got up from the stool where I had been sitting to strap my ankle. Testing it gently with my weight, I found the strapping eased it a little. Titus turned and blew out the candle.
‘Why do you think they were suspicious?’ I asked, as we left the house.
He shook his head. ‘I’m not sure. I’ve been wondering if I might have been betrayed. Not here. I am the only agent in this part of Spain. No one knows me here. Could there have been careless talk at Seething Lane?’
I gave him a startled look. ‘I don’t know. But let us discuss this later, once we’re back with the fleet.’
I knew I would be slow, but Titus had found me a tailor’s yard to use as a stick and we began our descent of the streets. I was glad to see that as well as his code book he had equipped himself with a sword. Somehow the lower town seemed less deserted than it did by day. We heard furtive footsteps. Shadowy forms slipped into alleyways as we passed. Once a group of three men barred our way, but I spoke placatingly in Spanish and slowly they drew back, letting us pass, though they remained watching us, so that the hairs of my arms stood up, and I had to force myself not to look back.
At last we reached the harbour. I was sweating with pain, but would not give in to it, not until I could stretch out in my own cabin. It took a long while to rouse a boatman from the cluster of skiffs tied up beside the quay, but at the cost of some grumbling he rowed us out to the Victory.
Someone was waiting on deck as we climbed aboard, awkward for me with my strained ankle. The downwash from the riding-light showed a weary Dr Nuñez seated on the bench which Dom Antonio normally occupied when he took the air.
‘Ah, Kit,’ he said, ‘so you are safely come back.’ That was all, but I could read the relief on his face.
‘This is Titus Allanby,’ I said, ‘and if you want perpetual reward for your good deeds in the hereafter, you will persuade one of the cooks to wake up and find us some food.’
I sank down on the bench as the two men bowed and shook hands.
‘Kit has sprained his ankle,’ Titus said, ‘but he has managed to spring me before the trap closed.’
I remember little after that. Some food was found and I suppose I must have eaten it, but at last I was in my cubbyhole, stretched out on my cot, with my painful ankle propped up.
That night I dreamt of fire and darkness and wounded men crying out in English and in Spanish.
Chapter Nine
As the fruitless siege continued unchecked, I grew restless with impatience. I would never be able to carry out my plan, my own private reason for coming on the expedition. I even thought of going ashore here at Coruña and riding south through Spain, but it was much too far. Besides, I needed to wait until my ankle healed. It was not a bad sprain, but I had not improved it by all the climbing and walking I had done that same night, as Titus Allanby and I escaped from the citadel.
Whatever it cost, I would have to wait until we reached Portugal. At night, I fretted sleepless in my cramped quarters, kept awake by worry and by the pain in my ankle and in my burned shoulder, which grew fiercer at night. The kind of cupboard, leading from his cabin, that Dr Nuñez had arranged for me to occupy was airless and dark, and increasingly hot as we drew nearer to summer, but I was thankful that I had not been forced to lodge with the men, for it would have been near impossible to maintain my disguise. At first I worried about living in such close proximity to Dr Nuñez, but I managed to keep to my cupboard, using the pisspot in privacy. He never troubled me there.
Intermittently, I slept during those nights moored off Coruña, a sleep troubled by dreams that remained with me by day only as dark and troubling shadows, in which I seemed to be hunting through the squalid alleys of London for someone . . . Was it Simon? I thought I caught glimpses of him, always turning a corner far ahead, always out of reach. I could not understand why I should be haunted by such a persistent yet meaningless dream.
Titus Allanby was accommodated aboard the Victory, sharing a cabin with two of the junior officers. He was accepted by all on board as an Englishman trapped in Coruña and anxious to go home. No mention was made of his assumed occupation as a tailor, nor of his true position as an agent of Walsingham’s secret service. Instead he let it be understood that he was a merchant, and I backed up this impression whenever I had the opportunity. For the most part no one was interested, having more important matters on their minds. Dr Nuñez, of course, realised Titus’s real identity, but he would not reveal the truth. Norreys knew as well. The day after Titus came aboard, Norreys sent for him to be rowed over to the Nonpareil, where he questioned him closely about the dispositions of the garrison in the citadel, the strength of their troops, and the supply of arms.