The autumn and winter of 1643 were happy months for Campion, shadowed only by Toby’s absence and by the unanswered mysteries surrounding the seal.

Toby was now what he had long wished to be; a soldier of King Charles. His father’s eminence had assured him an immediate captaincy, yet even so his first letters home were cheerful confessions of ignorance. He had to learn his trade, and he was determined to be worthy of the name “Cavalier.” The nickname had been given to the King’s soldiers by the Puritans and was intended to be a deadly insult. The caballeros of Spain were the notorious enemies of true Protestantism, and the English adaptation, “Cavalier,” was supposed to tarnish the Royalists with Roman Catholic foulness. Yet the Cavaliers, like the Roundheads, had enthusiastically adopted their enemy’s insult and invested it with pride. Toby would be a Cavalier.

Campion missed Toby, yet his letters, funny and affectionate, kept alive the promise of the future they had so intemperately planned in London. At the same time the Seal of St. Matthew, constantly about her neck, was a reminder of the threat to that future. Lady Margaret had been for immediate action. Sir Grenville Cony must be bearded, must be forced to divulge his secrets, but Sir George Lazender, home at last, forbade any such foolishness.

“Sir Grenville is not a man we can force! What means do we have of forcing him? Force, indeed!”

Lady Margaret frowned. “Then what do we do?”

“Nothing, of course. There’s nothing to be done.”

Inaction was like gall to Lady Margaret. “Nothing! Something must be done. What about Lopez? Why do we not make inquiries of Lopez?”

Sir George had sighed. “In the first place, my dear, we do not know which Lopez the letter refers to. Suppose we did? So what then? For all we know he’s just as unscrupulous as Cony. If Campion falls into his hands she might suffer quite as much, if not more. No. Let the waters settle and we shall see what we shall see.”

Sir George’s prudence, natural to him, was reinforced by a desire not to become deeply involved in Campion’s affairs. He had been surprised, irritated and disappointed to find, on his return, that Lady Margaret had so wholeheartedly embraced Campion.

“She’s unsuitable, Margaret. Quite unsuitable.”

“You haven’t met her, George.”

Most of his objections to her presence in the castle evaporated when she was introduced. She had curtseyed prettily and Lady Margaret had watched, amused, as her husband responded to the girl’s extraordinary beauty.

As the days passed Lady Margaret noticed Sir George enjoying Campion’s company more and more. Sir George, for his part, was happy now that she should be in his household. He accepted her as his wife’s companion, yet he still had reservations about her as a possible daughter-in-law. The seal, the strange Covenant, these were not certainties. It was best, Sir George thought, to give the girl time and see whether Toby’s passion would abate with the passing of the months.