I soon had my saddlebags packed and Hector saddled. I made sure I had one of the cook’s small apples in my pocket in case he needed tempting to board the ship, for I knew his weakness for apples. When I was ready I led him out into the courtyard, followed by Berden. Just outside the stable door the snow was churned up with hoof prints, so a scouting party must already have ridden out. The mounting block which stood to one side had been cleared of snow, and I was able to mount easily, but I was conscious of Berden’s earlier criticism, that I should not ride a horse I could not mount without assistance.

We rode out of the castle gatehouse and headed downhill towards the port, picking our way carefully, for the road was icy. A few times the horses slipped on the cobbles. The harbour was worse. All the surfaces were glassed over with a sheen of ice, forcing us to dismount and lead the horses slowly and carefully to where we could see that one of the larger pinnaces had been moored close in to the harbour wall. Her name, Silver Swan, was carved on her stern, amid a riot of leaves and roses. A ramp led from the quay to the ship and mercifully someone had had the foresight to strew it with straw.

Berden stopped by the near end of the ramp and fixed the leather blinkers to his horse’s head. Redknoll threw up his head at first, but quickly accepted them. I did not know whether Hector had ever worn blinkers, but here, on an icy harbour quay, with a ramp that rippled up and down with the movement of the ship, did not seem the place to experiment. Berden stepped on to the ramp and clicked his tongue for his horse to follow. The horse planted his feet firmly and leaned back against the reins. For several moments there was a battle of wills between man and horse, but at last Redknoll placed a hesitant hoof on the ramp, then another, until at last Berden had managed to lead him on to the deck of the ship. The horse stood there trembling, as much from fear, I guessed, as from the cold.

Now it was my turn. Praying that I would not make a fool of myself, I took the apple out of my pocket and held it up so Hector could see it. He snorted and reached forward. I backed away a few steps to the edge of the ramp, until the reins tightened between us.

‘Come on then, my lad,’ I said, in as quiet and normal a voice as I could manage, for I was afraid myself. Afraid of boarding that ship for the rough crossing, afraid of what lay ahead. Afraid, even, that if Hector should panic, he might knock me into the sea. With its fringe of ice around the edges, the harbour would not allow anyone who fell in to live for long. I must not let Hector sense my fear, for any horse can tell when you are afraid and Hector and I were closer than many a rider and horse.

Hector eyed me, eyed the apple, and rolled a nervous eye towards Berden’s horse, standing shivering on the ship’s deck. If anything, the movement of the water in the harbour had increased. It was well sheltered from the open sea, but even within the stony embrace of the harbour wall the insidious surge of the open Channel could be felt. Not only that but the strength of the wind was increasing, whipping up waves which chopped back and forth between the ships. The pinnace heaved and the ramp slid fractionally to one side.

I dared not hesitate any longer. I turned my back on Hector and stepped on to the ramp with as nonchalant an air as I could muster. For a moment I was caught between the rippling of the planks beneath my feet and the taut resistance of the reins in my hands. Then I felt the tension on the reins grow slack. I heard the dull thud as Hector stepped on to the ramp behind me, setting it wavering still more. A few steps. A few more. Hector and I stumbled off the end of the ramp and on to the deck together.

It felt as though I had held my breath all the way across, but now I turned and palmed the apple to Hector, who took it neatly from my hand.

‘That’s a grand fellow,’ I said, patting his neck and leaning for a moment against his shoulder as I felt my knees growing weak beneath me.

Berden smiled at me as he lifted the blinkers off his horse.

‘Well, he did it without blinkers, then.’

‘Aye,’ I said. ‘I think a horse, like a man, is happiest when he knows what lies before and around him.’ I did not have to say where I stood on such matters.

‘True enough,’ Berden said soberly, ‘but some men, like my horse here, must needs have the truth partially hidden from them, or they have not the courage to go steadily forward.’

We began to lead the horses into a rough canvas shelter the sailors had erected toward the front of the deck before the mast, to serve as a temporary stable.

‘And which would you rather be, Nicholas?’ I asked. ‘The man who sees clearly both ahead and to the sides? Or one who prefers only to see so much and no more?’

‘Oh, I find that in our profession, the wisest course is to see both ahead and to both sides, if you wish to survive.’

‘And perhaps also behind as well?’

‘Aye.’ He looked at me gravely. ‘That as well.’

Now that we were aboard, the ship’s crew began to make ready to leave. While we tethered the horses as best we could to keep them steady when the ship began to toss, and removed their tack, we could hear the sound of running bare feet slapping on the deck and occasional shouted orders, though it was clear these men knew their tasks with few directions from their officers. There were some bales of straw in the makeshift stable that we arranged around the horses to give them some protection, should they be thrown about once we were on the open sea. By the time we were finished and ducked out under the flap of canvas that closed the end of the stable, the ramp had been pulled aboard, the mooring ropes cast off, and the pinnace was being rowed out of the harbour.

The Silver Swan could be propelled either by a single bank of oars or by sails, but here in the harbour it was easier to manoeuvre while rowing. Our pinnace was neither one of the very small ones which are used as tenders for the great warships and for carrying messages between them within a fleet, nor was it one of the largest which are in truth small warships themselves, armed with anything up to a dozen cannon. It carried six small cannon and must be deemed large enough to cross the Channel unaccompanied. Recalling the fishing boat which had smuggled the two conspirators ashore last year near Rye, I realised that this ship was almost twice as long.

Once we were clear of the harbour, the ship’s captain gave the order to hoist sail. The mainmast carried a quadrangular spritsail, with a triangular staysail before it. There was rigging from the bowsprit to the mast for a foresail, but the crew did not at first hoist this. Although the wind had abated somewhat from its fiercest at the height of the storm, it was still blowing hard enough to whip the hood of my cloak from my head. I reckoned the captain would not risk full canvas while the wind was this high.

‘Master Berden and Master Alvarez?’ The captain had come over to where we stood on the rear deck, trying to stay out of the way of the sailors as they went about their business.

‘Aye,’ said Berden, extending his hand.

‘Captain Thoms,’ he said, shaking our hands in turn. He looked at me curiously. ‘You are Spanish?’

‘Certainly not,’ I replied, somewhat curtly. It was not the first time I had been taken for Spanish. ‘I am Portuguese and no friend of Spain.’

‘Ah.’ He nodded in comprehension. ‘Well, I am instructed by Sir Edward to take you all the way up to Amsterdam. I am afraid it will be a rough crossing.’

Even as he spoke we reached the open Channel, out of the lea of the land, and the ship kicked like a wayward horse. I grabbed hold of one of the shrouds to steady myself, and so did Berden, though Thoms rode the tossing deck as though it were flat calm.