Devorax put his head back in laughter. Ebenezer smiled. Two guards clamped gloved hands on Toby’s shoulders, forcing him back into the chair.

Devorax waited until Toby was quiet. He glanced at Ebenezer. “What shall we do with them, Mr. Slythe?”

Ebenezer shrugged. “Kill them.”

Devorax pretended surprise. “But Sir Grenville was good to you! You won’t plead for his life?”

Sir Grenville looked with hatred at Ebenezer. Ebenezer smiled slowly at his erstwhile patron. With Sir Grenville dead he would inherit his wealth. “Kill him.”

“And your sister?” Devorax was pretending innocent inquiry. “Would you not save your sister’s life?”

Ebenezer looked at her. “She’s not my sister. She’s the daughter of Aretine and his whore.”

Devorax smiled. “You want her to die?”

Ebenezer nodded.

Devorax smiled at Toby. “And doubtless you’d like to be buried at your wife’s side, puppy?”

“Go to hell.”

“In my own time, puppy, in my own time.” Devorax smiled about the table. “What a pleasant evening. A rising tide, a waiting ship, three seals, and friends. Mr. Slythe and I to share the Covenant, and the rest of you to die.” He let the word hang in the cold stone barn. The wind rose in the broken rafters, died again. The waves were closer, the sound insistent.

Campion looked at the tall soldier and kept her voice as calm as she could make it. “Toby has done nothing. He didn’t ask for this. Let him go.”

“Campion!”

“No! No! Quiet!” Devorax was smiling. “Is this love?”

Campion raised her chin. “I love him.”

“Oh! This is touching! How much do you love him, girl?” He leaned toward her. “How much?”

“I love him.”

“Enough to sign away the Covenant?” Devorax grinned. “Will you put a price on it? I’ll make an agreement with you. The puppy can live if you sign away all your wealth.”

He had stolen it anyway, but Campion nodded.

It was a ploy. She realized, as he opened the square, leather travelling case, that Devorax had planned this; that he had known she would plead and that he could ask his price. He brought from the case a piece of paper, an inkpot, a quill, and a bar of sealing wax. He put the paper, pen, and ink in front of her. “Sign it, girl, and the puppy lives.”

The paper was brief. It renounced her ownership of the Covenant at twenty-five, ordering the Bank of Amsterdam to ignore the instructions that she was to receive the seals. She dipped the quill in the ink, the point scratched, and Devorax smiled at her. “Now it’s legal. Sir Grenville will tell you that it’s better to have these things done legally. Isn’t that right, Sir Grenville?”

Sir Grenville said nothing. He was watching Devorax who had stood, taken the paper, and now dripped hot wax at its bottom. Devorax picked up the seals. “St. Matthew, St. Mark, St. Luke. There!” He held the paper up. The three wax seals shone like new blood in the candlelight. “The Covenant is changed for the first time. Lady Campion Lazender is a pauper. You, Sir Toby, will live.”