His instinct was sound. Instead of having his unwelcome visitor overpowered by his men, Sir Godfrey asked the servant to conduct him to the main hall. Nicholas walked along the corridor with its display of armour and weaponry. When he was taken in to his host, he was given a mild shock. Sir Godfrey was sitting in his high-backed chair near the fireplace as he listened to some dances being played on the virginals by Orlando Reeve. The Master of the Armoury was serene and relaxed but the musician was soon discomfited. When he glanced up and saw Nicholas enter, Reeve immediately began to hit the wrong notes on the keyboard.
‘Enough!’ said Avenell. ‘Stop that cacophony!’
Orlando Reeve obeyed and sat nervously on his stool.
Avenell looked at the newcomer. ‘So you are Nicholas Bracewell,’ he said. ‘I had the feeling that we might meet sooner or later.’ He turned to the servant. ‘Take his weapons. I will not be accosted by an armed man in my own home.’
Nicholas Bracewell held his arms out wide so that the servant could take the sword and dagger that hung in their scabbards from his belt. The man departed with the weapons and closed the door behind him. What he had not taken, however, was the knife which Thomas Brinklow had made for his sister and which Nicholas had concealed up his sleeve. The book holder anticipated that he might need a second mode of defence and was taking no chances.
Avenell stood up in front of the fireplace, framed by its marble bulk. More weapons stood on the mantelpiece and a pike rested against it like a giant poker.
‘Why have you come?’ he said calmly.
‘I needed to speak with you, Sir Godfrey,’ said Nicholas. ‘They told me you had left Greenwich Palace to return home. You have missed much activity in the night.’
‘Activity?’
‘Sir John Tarker is under lock and key for the murder of Master Chaloner and for the attempted murder of myself. With him is an armourer by the name of Karl. Their part in the killing of Thomas Brinklow will also be looked into.’
Avenell was unruffled. ‘Why should any of this concern me in the least?’
‘Sir John was a close associate of yours.’
‘That is no longer the case.’
‘He was acting on your orders.’
‘Is that what he has claimed?’
‘He will admit it under questioning.’
‘I doubt that, Nicholas Bracewell. You will find it very difficult to link anything that Sir John has done with orders that I am supposed to have given. No court in the land will arraign me. I have important friends.’
‘Not any more, Sir Godfrey.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because Lord Hunsdon has already repudiated some of the actions you made him take. The injunction has been lifted from Westfield’s Men and Edmund Hoode will have been released from the Marshalsea within the last hour.’ He saw Avenell’s jaw tighten slightly. ‘Do not look to the Lord Chamberlain this time. He does not befriend traitors.’
‘Guard your tongue, sir!’
‘That is what they are calling you in Deptford.’
‘What are you talking about, man?’
‘The Peppercorn.’
‘I have never heard that name.’
‘It is the vessel that was bearing your latest shipment of arms to the Netherlands,’ said Nicholas. ‘When it set sail from Deptford early this morning, it was intercepted. A quantity of weapons made in the Greenwich Palace workshops was found aboard. Those weapons did not tally with the items listed in the manifest.’
‘Blame that on some idle clerk and not on me.’
Nicholas admired his self-control. ‘Two people were arrested aboard The Peppercorn,’ he continued. ‘Dutchmen, who had been staying in Greenwich with you to do business. They were sailing to Flushing with those arms but they were not going to make delivery in the Netherlands. Their business was with other nations, as you well know.’
‘This is wild speculation,’ said Avenell. ‘I have yet to hear or see one scrap of proof being offered for my involvement. If any weaponry has left Greenwich illegally, I will be the first to track down the culprit and have him thrown into prison.’ He gave a defiant smile. ‘Where is your proof, Nicholas Bracewell?’
‘At the home of Master Thomas Brinklow.’
‘Brinklow was a fool!’
‘He was also a genius,’ said Nicholas. ‘He invented a new process for smelting iron ore. It produced a metal that must have dazzled your eyes. A metal that was lighter and stronger than anything your armourers can produce. Easier to work, I suspect, for I have seen the results.’ He gazed levelly at the other man. ‘You coveted that process. Because he would not hand it over, you had Master Brinklow killed.’
‘The man was an idiot. I offered him a fortune.’
‘He found out what you meant to do with his invention.’
‘That process was our key to a treasure-house.’
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas. ‘If you produced such superior weapons, you could have sold them at a much higher price to hostile nations. When Master Brinklow realised that, he broke with you and refused to let you near his invention. He knew too much about you to be allowed to live.’
‘He is not the only one, sir.’
‘Information has been laid with the authorities. They will soon be here to arrest you on a charge of high treason and bear you away to the Tower.’
Avenell smiled. ‘They will not keep me there for long, I do assure you. Everything you have alleged may be placed at the door of other people. There is no proven link with me.’
‘Sir John Tarker thinks otherwise,’ said Nicholas. ‘He said that he murdered Master Chaloner at your behest.’
‘Then it is a case of his word against mine.’ Avenell put a hand against the fireplace and leaned back. ‘You will have to do better than that, sir. Groundless accusations will get you nowhere. Search wherever you like. You will never be able to connect my name with the death of Master Chaloner.’
Nicholas Bracewell looked steadily at him, then let his gaze drift upwards. On the mantelpiece, directly above the head of Sir Godfrey Avenell, was an object which did more than connect a name with a corpse. The ball-butted German cavalry pistol, a souvenir of Chaloner’s army career, was now part of the private collection of the Master of the Armoury. Nicholas was staring up at the murder weapon itself.
Sir Godfrey Avenell’s composure vanished. When he realised what his visitor could see, he grabbed the pike from beside the fireplace and advanced on him. Thunderous knocking could be heard in the distance and voices were raised. Officers had patently arrived to effect the arrest of a presumed traitor. It all served to make Avenell more frenzied.
‘Whatever happens,’ he sneered, ‘you will not live to see it. Goodbye, sir!’
He thrust at Nicholas with the pike but the latter eluded it and backed away. Avenell followed, circling him with the weapon at full stretch. When Nicholas veered towards the dais at the end of the hall, Orlando Reeve let out a squeal of fear and jumped off his stool. He cowered in a corner as he watched them. Noises in the passageway became louder and more urgent. Help was fast approaching.
Avenell jabbed with the pike again, then swung it in a vertical plane to try to knock his quarry over. Nicholas ducked under the whirling weapon just in time but the older man quickly adjusted his attack. A second swing of the pike took Nicholas’s legs from under him and sent him sprawling on the marble. Doors were now flung open and a detachment of armed officers marched in. Avenell stopped them with a command.
‘Stay there!’ he ordered. ‘Keep out of this!’
Their arrival gave Nicholas the opportunity to get to his feet. He was glad of the presence of more witnesses. Orlando Reeve’s gibbering testimony would not have been enough. The officers could clearly see that Nicholas was at a disadvantage and that any action he took would be strictly in self-defence.