“Yes.”

“So where, girl, do you think Marta sleeps?” He picked up the bottle again. “Not with me, girl, I assure you. She hates me.” He grinned. “And you tell me it’s not with you, and I tell you that Marta Renselinck doesn’t sleep in the kitchen.” He laughed at her. “They’ve been together for twelve years now. She won’t become a Jew, and he won’t become a Lutheran, so they just happily adulterate each other. Are you shocked, girl?”

She hated the way he called her “girl.” She shook her head. “No.”

“Oh, but you are! The gallant old Jew who came to your rescue turns out to be human after all.” He seemed, suddenly, angry. He gestured at the panorama of wharves, bridge, Tower, cathedral and ships. “Look at it all! Full of Puritans, churchmen, lawyers, all of them fat, self-important bastards who tell the rest of us how to live, but I’ll tell you something.” His voice was gravelly, harsh on her ears. “They’ve all got their secret, girl, all of them! And do you know where to find it?”

The ravaged face was hostile. She shook her head and he gave his humorless laugh. “In their bedrooms, girl, in their bedrooms. So don’t be shocked that Mordecai warms his bed without benefit of clergy. He’s a more decent man than any of them.” He drank his brandy-wine.

She tried hard not to be rebuffed by his anger, his swearing or his seeming dislike of her. “Have you known him long?”

“All my life it seems.” Devorax laughed.

“Did you know my father?”

The gray eyes turned to her. “Aretine? Yes.”

“What was he like?”

Devorax laughed. “Pretty boy, Aretine. He was a lucky bastard, especially with the women.” He shrugged. “I liked him. He was too clever for his own good, though. Doesn’t do to be clever, girl. Just gets you into trouble.”

“When did you know him?”

“In the wars. I fought for Sweden.” He touched the scar on his face. “I got that at Lützen. Some little bastard with a sword. Still,” he smiled grimly, “I killed him.” He poured more drink for himself. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow!” She was surprised. She knew that the search for her still continued in London; that travellers leaving the city were stopped and their coaches or wagons searched.

Devorax nodded. “Tomorrow.” He gave her his grim smile. “I have a travelling companion for you, someone who’ll keep you safe.” He found this funny, but would not tell her more.

That night Mordecai Lopez gave her a special dinner, a farewell dinner, and Campion tried to hide the pleasure she felt at the thought of returning to Lady Margaret and Toby. Lopez saw the pleasure anyway. “I think your Sir Toby is a lucky man.”

“I think I’m lucky.”

“You’ll write to me?”

She nodded. “Of course.”

He raised a glass of wine to her. “I leave you in good hands, Campion.” He smiled. “Vavasour will collect your seals. It will take time, so don’t be impatient. In the meantime you are to have this.”