They shuffled down the stone quay as the queue shortened, and Sir George looked to his left at the sunlight on the houses of London Bridge. It was a pity, he thought, that the houses burned at the city end of the bridge had never been rebuilt, it gave the great structure a lopsided look, but the bridge, with its houses, shops, palace, and chapel built above the wide river, was still one of the glories of Europe. Sir George felt the sadness of loss. He would miss the sun glinting on the Thames, the water thronged with boats, the skyline below the bridge thicketed with masts.

“Where to, genn’l’men?” a cheerful voice shouted at them and the Earl handed Sir George into the boat.

“Privy Stairs!” The Earl of Fleet managed to sound as if their business was of vast importance.

The watermen spun their boat, leaned into the oars, and the small craft surged into the stream. Sir George looked at his son-in-law. “You wanted to talk, John?”

“It’s Toby, Sir George.”

“Ah!” Sir George had been worried that the Earl might have guessed his wavering loyalty, but instead he wished to speak about Sir George’s other concern: his son. “What’s he done now?”

“You don’t know?”

Sir George tipped his plain hat back so that the sun could warm his forehead. To his right the wall of London ended at Baynard’s Castle, beyond which was the old Blackfriar’s Theater. Sir George decided innocence was his best defense against the Earl. “Toby? He’s at Gray’s Inn, you know that. I think he should know something of the law, John, enough to steer well clear of it later. Mind you, I think he’s bored. Yes, very bored. It makes him boisterous, but I was boisterous once.” He looked at his son-in-law. “Young men should be boisterous, John.”

The Earl of Fleet frowned. He had never been boisterous. “You will forgive me, Sir George, but it is not that he is boisterous.” Water splashed on his coat and he ineffectually flapped at the black cloth. “I fear you will not be happy, father-in-law.” The Earl was obviously distressed at being the bearer of bad news.

Sir George spoke gently, “I’m rather in suspense at this moment.”

“Quite so, quite so.” Fleet nodded vigorously, then took the plunge. “Your son, Sir George, is actively striving for our enemies. He pretends otherwise, but it is so.” The Earl spoke ponderously, poking his finger into his knee as if to emphasize his words. “If his activities reach the ear of the competent authorities then he will be arrested, tried, and doubtless imprisoned.”

“Yes,” Sir George still spoke softly. He looked away from his companion at the crowd waiting for boats at the Temple Stairs. Sir George knew of Toby’s activities, because his son had told him of them, but how on earth had the Earl of Fleet discovered them? “I hope you’re sure of this, John.”

“Quite sure.” The Earl of Fleet was genuinely upset at being the bearer of bad news. “It is, I fear, quite certain.”