It was hard to believe. The sea and the sky merged together in a blurring of snow and grey cloud, which seemed no more than a few miles away.

‘I think it is snowing even harder over in France,’ I said.

‘It could be. I hope you will not have too hard a time of it over in the Low Countries.’

‘I have been well forewarned. We should be back in England before Christmas.’

‘Do you . . .’ he hesitated, looking embarrassed, ‘do you celebrate Christmas, Kit?’

‘You mean, because I am a Marrano? I am a baptised Christian, Andrew.’

‘I’m sorry. I do not altogether understand these matters.’

‘I am not certain I even understand myself who and what I am. My family is part Jewish by descent, but also part Christian. My grandfather is one of the ancient Christian Portuguese nobility. And although my family attended the synagogue in Coimbra, we also attended church, as my father and I do here in England. I take communion.’

‘I did not mean to pry into your private affairs.’

‘It does not matter. But it is confusing, when you are a child, and even now . . . But after all, it must have been the same, for people here. Your parents and grandparents. Thirty years ago, everyone in England was supposed to be Catholic. Before that, Protestant. Again before that Catholic. And now Protestant again.’

‘You are right. Too complicated for a simple soldier like me!’ He laughed. ‘I am happy to be a Protestant and a loyal subject of the Queen.’

‘As I am,’ I said, not specifying which I meant. ‘And I will indeed be celebrating Christmas. Last year I had a high time with the players in James Burbage’s company.’

I might have said more, but it was growing very cold. Before we turned back to the warmth of the keep, Andrew pointed down to the port which lay almost at our feet, sheltered by a massive harbour wall.

‘There you can see our Dover squadron of ships assembling,’ he said, ‘ready for the invasion. You will be crossing in one of the pinnaces. Over there, do you see?’

Through the thin curtain of snow I saw half a dozen small ships at anchor on one side of the harbour. They were slim and elegant, but they looked overly fragile to me, to confront the dark grey and angry waters of the Channel which lay beyond the harbour wall.

We made our way back to the keep, for it was growing dark as well as cold by now. Coming in to the hall I was momentarily dazzled by the light, for the sconces on the walls had already been lit and a fire was blazing in the enormous fireplace. There were even candles in standing candelabra placed here and there about the floor. Someone (not Torrington, I was sure) had decided that the barracks needed to fend off the winter dark. Andrew and I shook the snow from our cloaks and stamped our boots, as the men gathered near the fire looked up in astonishment at anyone so mad as to venture outside unnecessarily.

That evening we dined as before with the soldiers and before retiring for the night I opened one of the shutters of the window in the corridor outside our room. The snow had almost stopped falling and although a strong wind rushed in through the opening, I thought it was perhaps a little less than it had been at the height of the storm. I hastened to close the shutter before the cold air brought protests from anyone. I was glad to wrap myself up in my blankets and have one more night of rest.

The next morning a silvery winter sun lay slantwise across the mounded snow. During the night all the outdoor surfaces had been sprinkled with frost, as if a prodigal hand had broadcast diamonds like barley seed across the face of the world. So intense was the sparkle reflected off the snow that I had to screw up my eyes and look away.

When we had eaten, Berden and I made our way once again to Sir Edward Walgrave’s office. It was clear that he was not only expecting us but knew what Berden would say as soon as he was through the door.

‘Aye,’ Walgrave said, before Berden could open his mouth. ‘The storm is much slackened. I have sent word for one of the pinnaces to be prepared, the Silver Swan. It will be ready for you in an hour, and you can leave on the ebb tide.’

‘I thank you, sir,’ Berden said. ‘We will make ready, then take the horses down to the port.’

Walgrave nodded. ‘If you need blinkers, one of the grooms can provide them. I will arrange for the ship to return for you in exactly three weeks’ time. It will come to Amsterdam, as we agreed, unless the canal is frozen, in which case it will anchor near the mouth of the canal. If your plans change, try to send a message to me, though I fear few ships will be carrying letters if the weather continues bad.’

We thanked him again and made our way back to our chamber to collect our belongings. The other soldier was there, asleep. I never saw him awake. So we prepared in silence. I changed into my heavy boots and donned my woollen waistcoat under my doublet. Berden also had a knitted garment, a sort of sleeveless tunic, which he added under his doublet. Neither of us had any illusions about how cold it would be at sea.

As we descended the stairs, I said, ‘I will see whether the cooks will give us some food to carry with us. I expect there will be something to eat on board ship, but once we are put ashore, it may not be so easy to get a meal.’

‘Sound thinking, Kit,’ he said. ‘Though Sir Francis did provide a purse of Dutch guilders, in case our English coin will not buy us food and shelter. I’d best give you some of them, in case we should be separated.’

At a turn in the stair he stopped and reached into his purse. Counting out a handful of the unfamiliar coins, guilders, schellings and Dutch pennies, he passed them to me and I slipped them into my own purse. I had no idea how much any one of them would buy and resolved to ask Berden to instruct me in Dutch money and prices while we were at sea. This was yet another way in which I felt unprepared for this mission. To Berden, who had spent many years travelling all over the nations of Europe, it had probably never occurred that it might be a problem for me.

‘While you plead with the cooks,’ he said, ‘I’ll report to Sir Anthony Torrington and tell him we are leaving.’

I nodded, glad to avoid the pompous garrison commander. ‘I will meet you in the stables,’ I said.

It seemed the army cooks were accustomed to requests for food to be carried on journeys, for the man I spoke to, once I had found the kitchens, made me up a bundle without demur, firmly tied in a large pudding cloth. There were two meat pasties and two raised pies, a loaf almost as long as my forearm, a couple of handfuls of dried raisins in a screw of paper, and half a dozen small apples. To this he added a leather jack of ale. To my thanks he responded with a cuff to my shoulder.

‘Can’t have you young lads starving!’ he said. From the girth of him, he would have made three of me, always a sure sign of a good cook.

At the last minute he cut an enormous chunk off a great wheel of cheese and had to untie the cloth to add it. We were not likely to starve for a day or two at least.

The courtyard had begun to be marked with passing feet, crossing between the keep and the various outbuildings. Even so, the snow was still deep enough to soak my hose above my boots as far as my knees. Already I began to shiver. Berden was in the stable when I arrived, clearly his meeting with Torrington had been brief. He was saddling his horse and looked over the partition as I went into Hector’s stall.

I held up the bundle of food for him to see.

‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Do you want blinkers for your horse, in case he mislikes boarding a ship?’

‘No, I think not. Hector is generally calm as long as he can see about him. I expect blinkers would frighten him more than the ship.’

‘Very well. I shall take some for Redknoll. He’s travelled by ship before, but he doesn’t care for it.’