Marbeck and the Privateers by John Pilkington Page B

been close to the man, only the day before. Absently, he held out the coin. Fitch snatched it, then scuttled past him to the doorway.
    â€˜We’re finished!’ he said angrily. ‘Now get you gone, before I call for a friend who’ll break both your legs!’
    But Marbeck barely heard him. Without looking back he went to the door and stepped outside.
    Two hours later however, after he had made his way back into the city, and walked most of the length of Thames Street and back again, his mood had changed. For it took only a few casual enquiries on the quays to learn of the vessel the Amity .
    She was a fast merchantman of a hundred tons, he was told, with a crew of about fifty men. She carried ten guns, and often sailed the Channel – and further, to the Bay of Biscay and beyond; she rarely came to London. In the days of licensed sea-plunder she had made many voyages under her master: a man of bad reputation, who went by the name of Reuben Beck. But it was one last piece of news that struck Marbeck most forcibly, and sent him hurrying to the nearest stairs to hail a boat.
    The Amity , he discovered, had sailed that very morning from Gravesend bound for her home port: Weymouth.

SEVEN
    B ack in his cluttered chamber at Salisbury House, Marbeck made up his pack. A restlessness was upon him: a desire to follow a trail, and hang the consequences. And though it was based on little more than instinct, and the testimony of a toothless man in a Limehouse tavern, he meant to pursue it. Let Oxenham hunt for Solomon Tye, and others watch Somerset House: Marbeck had found a reason to leave Cecil’s mansion, with its oppressive atmosphere. He was about ready to depart when the door opened, and there stood Langton the steward wearing a look that would sour fresh milk.
    â€˜I sought you earlier, Blunt, but you seem to be everywhere except at your duties,’ he droned, with a glance at the untouched piles of papers. ‘It’s come to my attention that you’ve been using Miller for private purposes – purposes of pleasure, I might say.’
    â€˜Might you, master steward?’ Marbeck buckled the straps on his pack and straightened up. ‘I thought your place was to see that I was well bestowed, then leave me to my own devices.’
    The other frowned. ‘My place?’ he echoed. ‘You wouldn’t dare presume to tell me that.’
    â€˜I presume nothing,’ Marbeck said. ‘And I have to leave again, on business for the Lord Secretary.’
    â€˜That’s odd,’ Langton sniffed. ‘In fact my lord exchanged a few words with me about you this morning, before he left for Somerset House.’ Seeing that he had Marbeck’s attention, he added: ‘You’ll be aware that he’s now in residence here, in his private rooms. But he has issued orders he’s not to be disturbed at this crucial time, while the talks are in process with the Spanish delegation – not for any reason. He was particular about including you in that instruction – almost as if he thought you might try to seek an audience with him. Though that would be highly presumptuous, in any case.’
    â€˜It would,’ Marbeck agreed, with relief. He had no intention of asking to see Cecil; in fact just now he preferred to avoid him. He was summoning some words to get rid of the steward, when another thought occurred. ‘By the way: I stumbled across that fellow I saw by the stairs two days ago,’ he said brightly. ‘The one you claimed had never been here – name of Jewkes.’
    Langton stiffened.
    â€˜He gets about a good deal, I gather,’ Marbeck persisted, enjoying the other’s discomfort. ‘Yet I confess it has troubled me, your denying all knowledge of him. Then, you’re a man who obeys orders to the letter, I see. Loyal to the last.’
    â€˜In that you are correct,’ the steward said after a moment. But he spoke low, the phrase