Free Raleigh's Page by Alan Armstrong Page B

boy finished, his teacher shook his head slowly.
    “I knew when you went up to London you’d come back with something for me—but this? A plot for two West Country folk to sneak to France and steal a merchant’s papers? And what’s he ever done to us? And what if we’re caught?”
    He made his eyes wide and formed his hands in the gesture of hanging.
    “Yes! I’m in!” he said with a broad smile.
    They agreed to meet a few days later at Durham House.
    On his way back up to London, Andrew stopped at Stillwell.
    It was noon. The dogs’ greeting made him smile. His folks were just sitting down to dinner. “Andrew!” they yelled as one when he came in. For a moment he couldn’t speak. If there were tears in the rush of hugs, no one noticed.
    “Give us news!” his mother called as she bustled to set a place for him. “We have suet pudding—your favorite!”
    He told what he could as he ate fast. Then he pushed his chair back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “I was ordered to hurry,” he said.
    “Yes!” they cried as he stood up. “Godspeed! Goodbye!”
    He stopped at Rebecca’s. She wore the red ribbon she’d bought with Doctor Dee’s halfpenny. She laughed when he gave her the silk his silver toothpick had come wrapped in. It was the only thing on his person that had any connection with Mr. Raleigh. He’d ordered the boy to travel so spare that, even if he were stripped naked and everything about him were studied, there would be no link to Durham House.

16
    P REPARATIONS FOR F RANCE
    Andrew sat with Mr. Raleigh, Mr. Harriot, and Pena in the turret, waiting for Tremayne. The boy was jumpy. Despite the heat, his hands were cold when James knocked at the door.
    “Yes!” called Mr. Raleigh. With him that word was never a question, always a statement.
    “It’s the one what’s come for that one,” said James, winking and pointing at Andrew as he pushed open the door.
    As Tremayne stepped in, Andrew saw his teacher through Mr. Raleigh’s eyes—a wiry brown-haired man, dusty and sweat-streaked, in plain clothes. He didn’t look like a gentleman.
    Mr. Harriot stood up to make him welcome. Tremayne was as squat and plain as Mr. Harriot was tall and elegant.
    “I’ve heard about your time at Cambridge,” Mr. Raleigh said after a long stare. “There is report that one Sunday a certain clergyman there preached against your teacher’s politics. A few days later, a donkey was led up the stairs to the clergyman’s rooms and given strong medicine. The beast was found in its mess with a sign around its neck: ‘An ass purged of its foolishness.’
    “Did you have anything to do with that?”
    “Perhaps,” said Tremayne. His face gave nothing away.
    Andrew was anxious for his friend, but Tremayne was cool and easy.
    “Your teacher—Mr. Eden—is reported to have a great interest in Spanish discoveries. Perhaps he has Catholic sympathies as well. Do you share them?”
    “Perhaps.” Again, not a flicker.
    “So perhaps your interest in America is to see a Catholic colony there?”
    “Perhaps.”
    Mr. Raleigh smiled. “Then perhaps you will do for us.”
    They proceeded to talk over small cakes and cups of Mr. Raleigh’s cacao drink as Andrew sat silent beside them.
    At dusk James announced, “Mr. Hakluyt.”
    Andrew was startled. He knew that name! Mr. Hakluyt’s book was his bible.
    A tall, gaunt man stooped through the doorway. His face was long and narrow, with overhanging brows. There was high color in his cheeks.
    “Mr. Hakluyt is chaplain to our ambassador at Paris,” Mr. Raleigh said, introducing him. “It was he who sent us news of the Frenchman’s map. It must be one of the few he has not seen.
    “Mr. Harriot you know,” he told Mr. Hakluyt. “The gentleman next to him is our wine merchant in training, Mr. Tremayne.”
    Tremayne smiled and bowed.
    “I know your book, sir,” Tremayne said. “
Divers Voyages Touching the Discoverie of America
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