Ebenezer, his eyes dark as sin, stared at them. His mind was far ahead in the glory of power.

Sir Grenville, eyes pale and prominent, stared at them. He was thinking desperately, knowing nothing was lost as long as chairs were around a table and men talked instead of killed.

Campion stared at them. She thought of all the sadness and death they had caused, of the terror they had given her. She reached for Toby’s hand and it was warm to her fingers.

Vavasour Devorax looked at the faces about the table, faces lit by the tall candles, and on his own face was an expression of satisfaction. “Perhaps we should say a silent prayer of thanks to an absent friend. St. John.”

Campion’s voice was scornful. “Shouldn’t you thank your absent friend, Mordecai Lopez?”

Vavasour Devorax chuckled, a deep rumbling sound of infinite amusement. “The girl wants me to feel guilty. My ‘friend’ Lopez.” He looked at her with insolent humor. “My friend Lopez is a Jew who has paid me wages for too long. He thinks a pat on the head will be sufficient for me. It isn’t. I want more from life than a leather coat and a sword, girl. It’s time I had some riches too!” He was becoming animated, close to the anger which Campion thought normal with this man. He leaned forward and scooped the three seals into his hand. “This is my reward for long service, girl, this!” He shook them so that the chains rattled together.

Sir Grenville spoke for the first time. “If you are Lopez’s enemy, Devorax, then you’re my friend.”

Devorax laughed. He put the seals down so that their chains trailed over the damascened barrel of Ebenezer’s pistol. “The word friend is suddenly very prominent this evening. I become rich and everyone is my friend. I don’t need friends!”

“Then what do you need?” Sir Grenville was frowning, uncertainly.

Devorax stared at him for a few seconds. “I need a certain whorehouse in Padua, Sir Grenville. It will keep me in my old age in a manner to which I have become accustomed.”

Sir Grenville had at least started a dialogue with the soldier. He nodded with a smile at the three golden seals. “You can make a whorehouse out of half Europe with that money, Devorax.” Sir Grenville spoke patiently, equably, one reasonable man to another. “And without friends you will have small protection against the enemies you’re about to make.”

“Enemies?” Devorax said the word with a sneer. “What enemies? You, Sir Grenville? Your corpse will be dung in this marsh tonight.” He watched the fear show in the bulging, glaucous eyes. “Lopez? The Jew is an old man, and he knows what my sword can do. He will not seek revenge.”

Campion gripped Toby’s hand. She would not show fear. “My father.”

“Your father?” The bearded face turned to her. “Kit Aretine abandoned you, girl, so what makes you think he’d come running now even if he could? And if he did, what makes you think he’d prefer a daughter he’d never seen to the riches of a Padua whorehouse?” Devorax laughed. “You forget I knew your father. I knew his tastes.” He watched her face. “Of course, if you want to save your life you could come and work for me.”