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But if Nicholas has learned only one thing since boarding the Righteous, it is that for all the uncomfortable loneliness of being out on deck, it is far, far worse below. First, there is the endless pitching and rolling, the ever-present risk of being dashed against unyielding timber. Then there is the smelclass="underline" the rich stink of damp hide and animal waste, which reminds him of the cow byre at Barnthorpe.

The Righteous does not smell because she is dirty, Nicholas has learned, but because in sixty years of seafaring she has absorbed the bodily decoction of all the men who have sailed in her, along with the beasts they have brought with them for milk and meat. No amount of diligent scrubbing can remove it.

And Captain Connell is nothing if not a man of cleanliness and order. He has made that clear from the start. His rules for the voyage have been read out to the crews of all three ships, as not one man in ten can read them for himself: there is to be no cursing on the Sabbath, nor any exchange of ribaldry or dirty tales. All customary services of Her Majesty’s religion must be observed at the appropriate hour – unless any ship be in immediate peril and the hands required to save her. Prayers, in that event, are already a given. Helmsmen and navigators are to make hourly observations of tides, current, stars, moon and sun, to be recorded accurately in each ship’s log, along with any points of land seen and any phenomena of interest. Finally – and here Connell’s voice had risen to a force that carried it clearly above the wind – no sodomy, on pain of death.

This last prohibition, Nicholas has learned, is mostly to protect the young apprentices from the attentions of one or two of their older, more covetous shipmates.

The five lads are quickly shedding their lubberly ways. After only a few days at sea they can take to the rigging as deftly as performing monkeys at the St Bartholomew Fair. When not at their physical labours, they are to be found sitting on the main-deck grating, studying the documents that Gault brought aboard, and which Nicholas assumes are instructions given to tyro seafarers.

Yet as he watches them, he cannot resolve a nagging doubt about the manner of their arrival at Lyon Quay. If they are destined for a life of commerce and discovery in the service of the Barbary Company, why were they not already aboard the Righteous when she was being prepared for sea? Why did Reynard Gault wait until the very last moment to bring them aboard?

It is almost nightfall. Rose is waiting for Timothy to return from delivering a final demand to one of the Jackdaw’s less credit-worthy customers. She would have sent Ned. He is the ideal debt-collector, with his great size, his fearsome auburn beard and his former reputation for enjoying a quarrel. But now she has seen behind the mask, she knows him to be a kindly soul. He’s far too easy a mark for a hard-luck story. He’d probably end up promising to extend the rogue’s credit. Besides, the thought of the Southwark doxies making their mooncalf eyes at him on the journey brings out a set of protective claws she never knew she had.

When Timothy puts his head around the taproom door, he looks like someone who expects an imminent beating.

‘He’s gulled you – hasn’t he?’ Rose snorts. ‘What tearful tale did he spin this time?’

Timothy holds out a handful of shillings. ‘He paid up, Mistress. All of it.’

‘Then why the look of a guilty man?’

Without a lute to strum, Timothy’s hands play an agitated minor chord against his thighs. ‘I did it out of love for him, nothing else. I didn’t want him to starve.’

‘But you have his coin, Tim. What are you jabbering about?’

Instead of giving an explanation, Timothy just looks even more wretched. ‘Promise me you and Mistress Bianca will understand. Don’t punish him. Don’t punish me. I had to do it. Because of that man Connell.’

‘No one who tells the honest truth in the Jackdaw gets punished, Tim; you know that,’ Rose says reassuringly. ‘Now calm yourself and speak out clearly. What’s amiss?’

Timothy looks around the taproom as though he expects an ambush. ‘He can’t come back, can he?’

Who can’t come back?’ Rose asks, struggling to curb her impatience.

‘That Captain Connell.’

‘Not unless he can fly. He’s far out on the ocean somewhere.’

Timothy’s reply brings her up with a start.

‘Only Farzad won’t come out of hiding unless he’s sure. He made me promise not to say a word until the coast was clear.’

The astonishment floods across Rose’s plump face like milk spilt on glass. ‘Farzad? You know where he is?’

Before Timothy can answer, she takes him by the arm and hurries him out of the taproom, mindful that Farzad is still wanted for questioning about the death of Solomon Mandel. But even before they reach the privacy of the parlour, Rose understands where the missing bread and pottage have gone.

Bianca has locked the shop when Rose and Timothy arrive on Dice Lane. It takes her a while to answer Rose’s urgent knocking.

‘Where is he, Timothy?’ she asks as comfortingly as she can manage, after Rose has explained why they’ve come. ‘No one will suffer any ill if you tell us.’

‘At the Rose theatre, Mistress. He said it was the best place to hide, what with it being shut up by the parish. I’ve been taking him victuals to keep him fed, else he would likely have starved.’

‘Why in the name of Jesu did he run away?’

Now thoroughly glad to be unburdened of his secret, Timothy becomes almost garrulous.

‘At first he wouldn’t tell me, Mistress. He said only that he had possession of a terrible knowledge, that he must hide himself away, that if he stayed at the Jackdaw it could harm us all. He said no one must know of it, especially not you, Mistress. He made me swear an oath.’

‘And it’s to do with Captain Connell?’

‘Aye.’

‘I know Connell looks like a cruel rogue, but what did Farzad have to fear from him?’

‘I asked, but he wouldn’t tell, Mistress,’ Timothy says. ‘He didn’t speak of Connell by name until today, when I took him some bread. When I convinced him the captain had sailed several days ago, he said I could break my oath and tell you where he was.’

‘How did you find him?’ Bianca asks.

‘He sought me out, two days after he went missing. I was at the river, buying eels. All of a sudden, there he was.’

‘And you’ve kept this to yourself ever since,’ Bianca says with a sympathetic smile. ‘I don’t know whether to admire you or curse you.’

‘Like I said, Mistress, he made me swear an oath.’

The thought of Farzad alone and scared, hiding in the empty playhouse like a half-starved feral cat, brings a sudden tear to Bianca’s eyes. ‘Does he know about Solomon Mandel?’ she asks.

‘Aye, Mistress. I told him.’

‘Does he also know Master Nick has sailed with Captain Connell?’

‘No, Mistress.’

‘And is he at the Rose now?’

‘Aye. But he’s still afraid to come home. He thinks you won’t abide his return.’

Bianca suddenly moves closer. Timothy flinches, thinking he’s going to have to atone for his sins by suffering a stinging backhand. But it does not come. To his astonishment, she draws him to her and kisses him on the forehead.

‘Go straight away to the playhouse,’ she whispers, ‘and fetch Farzad home. And tell him Rose will have the pottage pot warmed up by the time he gets there.’

A cold breeze spills off the river into the silent lanes of Bankside. The Jackdaw has closed its doors for the night. In the taproom, five figures sit together before the dying fire. Only one of them appears animated.