‘And are you in Amsterdam for long, Dr Alvarez?’ he asked. He was far too discreet to ask what my business here was.

‘Perhaps another week or ten days,’ I said. ‘I am awaiting the return of a colleague who had business elsewhere in the United Provinces.’ I had decided that Ettore Añez seemed a trustworthy man. He was, after all, the cousin of my oldest friend. I would not tell him everything, but I could see no harm in telling him what was common knowledge.

‘We have come from Sir Francis Walsingham, carrying despatches and letters for the Earl of Leicester.’

‘You have seen the Earl?’

‘Aye, the evening we arrived. The day before yesterday.’ I paused, then thought I would venture a question. ‘When we saw the Earl, there were two men dining with him: Sir John Worthington, one of his cavalry captains, and a Dutchman, Mijnheer van Leyden. I wondered whether you knew anything about them.’

Ettore poured us each more wine while he considered.

‘I know very little about Worthington. Little more than his name, in fact. He may be a cavalry captain, but I doubt whether he has ever led a cavalry charge in battle. I understand that he is one of the Earl’s favourites, kept well away from any real fighting.’ He paused, sipping his wine, then ate a few of the tiny pastries.

‘Van Leyden, now, I do know. He is a merchant here in Amsterdam, dealing in spices from the islands of the east. Or at least he was. Last year he lost his two largest ships, one to storms in the Indian Ocean, one to the Spanish. He was ruined, forced to sell his two remaining ships and look about for other employment. That was when he took up a position with the English.’

I understood from the way he said ‘the English’ that he did not regard himself as belonging to that nation, although we had spoken entirely in English, not Portuguese and certainly not Dutch. Perhaps, like my father and me, he felt himself still a stranger in northern Europe, even though, like his cousin Sara, he had been born here and never lived in Portugal. The sense of being an outsider is not easily overcome, even after one or two generations.

‘What do you think of him?’ I asked bluntly. ‘Van Leyden?’

He gave me a thoughtful look in which I caught a sudden resemblance to Sara. ‘He is not generally liked. There was no great mourning when he went out of business last year. There had been talk of false weights, of spices adulterated with cheaper produce, or tainted with mould. I would say that he is not altogether trustworthy. Moreover he has been humiliated by his losses, and I believe that he is not a man to take that well. Such humiliation can make a man dangerous.’

‘Hmm,’ I said, digesting this. ‘So do you think van Leyden himself might be dangerous?’

‘Dangerous to whom?’

‘Well, I suppose to the Earl, as he seems to be on intimate terms with him, dining in his house. And also perhaps to the alliance between England and the United Provinces.’

‘That alliance is already on quaking ground,’ Añez said. ‘Each side blames the other for failure on the battlefield. Zutphen was a disaster. Sluys a tragedy. It has reached a point where the commanders on both sides distrust each other, while the common soldiers come to blows in the streets. This is no way to withstand the Spanish, especially with a general of Parma’s skill in command of them.’

I had not realised things were so bad. Were the fears Leicester had expressed about treason and treachery merely this general falling out between the two nations? Or was there something more particular?

‘I believe the Earl has asked the Queen repeatedly if he might return home,’ I ventured.

‘Very likely.’ He nodded. ‘One can hardly blame the man. He is not a soldier. I am no soldier myself, but even I can understand that he has no grasp of military matters. But who would replace him?’

‘Perhaps his stepson, the Earl of Essex.’ I gave a wry smile, reflecting my view of Essex. ‘Sir John Norreys would be the wiser choice.’

‘I agree. When you saw the Earl, did you gain any idea of his plans?’

‘No, we were not made privy to anything of such importance.’

Añez held up the wine flagon again, but I shook my head and put my hand over my glass.

‘There was something else,’ I said, ‘that I wanted to ask you.’

‘Certainly.’

‘It may be nothing, yet I found it disturbing.’

I gave him a brief account of my meeting with Cornelius Parker and the cryptic warning from the beggar, and explained that I had seen Parker at our inn the previous night.

‘You say he accosted you in the street, uninvited?’

‘Aye. Came up behind me and remonstrated with me for giving a small coin to the maimed soldier. I was taken aback. And even more so when he offered me “entertainments”, unspecified.’

‘And the beggar warned you that he is a bad man.’

I nodded.

He sat back in his chair, studying the fire. ‘Cornelius Parker is as slippery as an eel. I doubt you could pin any crime to him, yet, like van Leyden, rumours cluster about him. Many of his goods are what he says they are, fine fabrics imported generally through Constantinople. Yet it is whispered that his ships sometimes carry other goods – arms which he trades with the Spanish and the Musselmen – slipped in amongst the bales of cloth. He has other business interests as well, brothels here in Amsterdam, in Den Haag and even in Antwerp.’

‘I thought Spain controlled Antwerp now.’

‘It does.’

I took off my cap and ran my fingers through my hair. ‘Do you mean that Parker is in the pay of the Spanish?’

He shrugged. ‘That I cannot say. It is as certain as can be that he has dealings with them.’

Something else struck me. ‘Is he a Catholic?’

Añez shook his head. ‘That I do not know. It is not safe to admit to being a Catholic these days, here in the United Provinces. I am sure he attends the free Dutch Protestant Church, but may nevertheless be a secret Catholic.’

I thought of the Fitzgerald family, where Walsingham had sent me last year. They had taken me with them to an English Protestant service like any respectable family, yet they celebrated the Catholic mass in secret.

‘I would have supposed,’ I said slowly, ‘that for a man like Parker, his best interests are served by continuing to trade legitimately, rather than engaging in dangerous activities.’

‘That would seem to be true. But men can be swayed by many things – passion for a cause, revenge, or, for men like van Leyden or Parker, money. I think that Parker, like van Leyden, could be a dangerous man.’

‘Aye. Well, I thank you for your information, Senhor Añez.’

‘To such a friend of my cousin Sara, I am Ettore.’

I smiled. ‘My friends call me Kit.’

We shook hands on it as I stood up to leave. So absorbed had I been in our conversation that it was only now that I noticed how dark it had grown. The glint from the canal had disappeared and the very room was full of shadows.

‘There will be more snow soon, I think,’ he said.

‘Aye, I’d best be back at my inn before it starts. I am staying at the Prins Willem.’

‘The best inn here in Amsterdam, though not the most expensive. The soldiers can become noisy in the evening.’

I laughed. ‘So I have noticed.’

He walked with me down the stairs to the front door.

‘If you should need any more information, or any help,’ he said, ‘do not hesitate to come to me.’

‘I thank you.’

We bowed our farewells and parted at the top of the steps. As I headed back along Reiger Straat, which had become busy again while we talked, I pulled on my cap and flipped the hood of my cloak over it. Already it had begun to snow, just a few idle flakes drifting down to be lost in what was already lying on the ground, but the clouds were big-bellied with the weight of the unshed masses that would fall before evening. I thought there was just time to try to find the beggar once more before I sought the shelter of the inn. The way to the church where I had seen him was easier for me to find now, but there was no sign of him, nor of the woman selling pastries. Indeed the streets were emptying fast as everyone made for shelter.