Phelippes leaned forward, his hands on his knees. ‘The latest word is that Navarre’s forces were defeated in the most recent encounter and have retreated south and west, away from the Catholic League and the centre of its support in Paris. They will be somewhere near Orleans now.’ He pointed to the edge of the map. ‘Just beyond here. The forces of the Guise faction seem to be in the ascendant, as far as we can tell. At least for the moment.’

Sir Francis clicked his tongue in annoyance. ‘If Guise succeeds in overthrowing the French king, which has been his object for years, he will form an alliance with Spain and allow them access to Boulogne and Calais. Perhaps Dieppe as well – that wasps’ nest of Catholic traitors. That will mean a whole string of ports in enemy hands, facing us across the Channel. While the French continue to fight among themselves, they will not reinforce the Spanish forces in the Netherlands, but God knows Parma and his Spaniards are strong enough without the assistance of Guise. The most the Earl of Leicester can do is hold on to what he has in the Low Countries. There is little chance of making an advance.’

Berden set his glass down on the floor and studied the map, his chin in his hand. ‘You want Kit and me to go directly to Amsterdam? Or should we spy out the area to the south and west first? Nearer to Parma’s forces?’

He said it quite calmly, but my stomach lurched. It would be dangerous enough spying amongst our own troops. I had no desire to go any closer to the Spaniards. Surely it was a mad scheme? But then, I thought, this is what Berden and the other agents do all the time. I knew there was one agent called Hunter who was held in prison in Lisbon, suspected by the Spanish of spying for England. Yet even in prison he was smuggling out reports to Sir Francis about Spanish troop movements and preparations for the invasion. These men must savour the excitement, even enjoy the risk. I could not. I was more convinced than ever that I would make a poor agent.

‘That is well thought on, Nicholas,’ Sir Francis said, setting down his own wine glass and studying the map more closely. I felt a trickle of sweat down my backbone. He was going to agree.

‘If we put you ashore somewhere here.’ He pointed to the map. ‘Just north of Flushing. . . Since taking Sluys, Parma has given all his attention to fortifying the area round the port of Flushing. It is clear that his orders from Philip are to concentrate on the Enterprise of England and to leave the destruction of the Protestant Netherlanders for another day.’

‘By your leave, Sir Francis?’ Phelippes said.

‘Aye, Thomas?’

‘As Nicholas and Kit will be carrying secret despatches and letters for the Earl, surely it is essential to ensure that they reach him without falling into the hands of the enemy? It were better they should go first to Amsterdam and deliver the papers. Then, if it seems wise, they may move down towards Flushing. The Earl himself, or his scouts, will be able to tell them the best route, to avoid outliers of the enemy forces. They will have fresher intelligence than we can possibly have.’

I looked at Phelippes gratefully. It would not eliminate the danger, but it would lessen it somewhat.

He did not notice my look, but went on. ‘By then we may also know more about the situation in France. It would be wise if we could provide more help for Navarre. Protestant supremacy in France would be immensely to our advantage.’

He said it without much conviction and I knew what the answer would be, even before Sir Francis spoke.

‘Indeed it would, but we cannot fight on too many fronts at once. Our gold is limited and our troops even more so. We cannot commit any more resources to Navarre for the present.’

‘So,’ Berden said, bringing them back to the matter in hand, ‘we go first to Amsterdam, deliver the despatches to the Earl and seek out any information there which might bear out his suspicions of treachery amongst our own or the Dutch forces. Afterwards, we head south.’

Sir Francis nodded. ‘That seems the best plan. After you have seen the Earl, you and Kit should separate and work independently, then at an agreed time meet together and travel down to near the Spanish lines.’

All this time I had said nothing. Now I ventured to speak. ‘I am the novice here. What kind of information should we be listening for? Surely if there are traitors, they will not talk openly of their plans?’

Berden sat back and picked up his glass again.

‘It is surprising how much men will talk when they are in their cups. But you should look out for small things as well. One man passing a note to another. A group of men huddled together in a corner, talking seriously and quietly, not wanting to be overheard. Any remark, however casual, that seems favourable to Spain or critical of the Queen. Any praise of the Pope, no matter how small, how brief. It will be a straw in the wind. Any man behaving suspiciously – concealing a weapon, going into a house in the town which is neither ale house not whore house, but perhaps a meeting place for the disaffected. Follow if possible, but keep out of sight. The Earl will instruct us as to the person we should report to. Do not attempt to challenge anyone or attack them. It is information we require, not heroics.’

‘No fear!’ I said, and they all laughed.

‘I think you should leave as soon as possible,’ said Sir Francis. ‘Thomas will prepare passports for you, and orders for you to be conveyed to Amsterdam by one of the military ships crossing from Dover.’

‘Do we take our own horses, or hire over there?’ Berden said.

‘Best take them, to save time and ensure that you have a reliable means to move about quickly from the start.’

I looked across at Phelippes and for once he smiled. ‘You will be wanting that piebald, Horace, I suppose.’

‘Hector,’ I said. I looked at Sir Francis. ‘If I may.’

‘Aye. I know he served you well before. Nicholas, you have your own mount, have you not?’

‘Aye, Sir Francis. He’s in your stables now.’

‘Let us say the day after tomorrow, then. That will give us time to prepare the papers.’ He turned to me. ‘I have already spoken to the governors of the hospital, Kit.’

I nodded. ‘I thank you, Sir Francis.’ He had probably done so before I had even agreed to go.

Before I left Seething Lane, Phelippes called me into his office, where we arranged the ciphers I should use in any reports I sent back to him.

‘Anything you report to the Earl,’ he said, ‘you should copy to me.’

‘Will the Earl not forward them to you?’ I asked, not altogether innocently. Since the affair of Sluys, my opinion of Leicester was not high.

Phelippes turned and walked to the window.

‘It is not that I do not trust the Earl, Kit.’ He hesitated, then glanced over his shoulder at me. ‘The Earl does not always realise what is important and what is not. And he is easily distracted from the matter in hand. His mind . . . it is somewhat akin to a butterfly, fitting from flower to flower, tasting now here, now there. He wrote to the Queen of his fears of treachery and treason. He may still fear them, but it may be that he will have forgotten his fears by the time you arrive and be thinking of some grand scheme to attack Parma. Or he may be seeking a way to persuade Her Majesty to allow him to come home and pass the command to that stepson of his, the Earl of Essex.’

I had never heard Phelippes criticise one of the great courtiers before, certainly not the Queen’s favourite, Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. For a moment I was speechless, then I said, ‘I have heard that where Leicester is . . . cautious’ (I dared not say cowardly) ‘ . . . then Essex is rash, even . . . foolhardy.’

‘You are correct in what you have heard, Kit, but you will not, of course, repeat it anywhere that it might cause you unpleasantness.’