Time stretched out with maddening slowness. I longed for my bed but was somehow sure that I should not draw attention to myself by getting up and crossing the room to the door. At the same time, there seemed nothing sinister in the men’s behaviour. If Cornelius Parker had any connection with the death of Hans Viederman, he gave no indication of it. At last there was a stirring amongst the men and I sighed with relief. They were standing up, shaking hands, bowing, taking leave of one another. Two of the men donned their cloaks, waved a final farewell, and left. The other two sat down again, heads together. Parker and van Leyden.

Now that initial sense that something was afoot overcame me again. The men were talking in lowered voices, quite unlike their earlier loud bonhomie. They looked furtive. Parker glanced over his shoulder in my direction, but I was sure he could not see me, half hidden by one of the great oak posts supporting the ceiling. It was merely an instinctive gesture, checking to see whether they were observed. The soldiers by now were thoroughly absorbed in their card game, those who were not already asleep and snoring on some of the benches.

Parker’s obvious nervousness drew my attention even more sharply towards them. I saw him take out a purse of coin and pass it over the table to van Leyden. Then he glanced around again. Reassured that no one was watching, he drew something out of his pocket and set it on the table. It was a small glass phial. Van Leyden was saying something urgent. Parker shook his head and put out his hand to the phial. His nervousness showed itself in the way his hand shook and he knocked the phial over, although he righted it at once and pushed it toward van Leyden. The other man wrapped a handkerchief around the phial and slipped it into his own pocket. The purse had already disappeared. With very little further talk, the two men stood up and Parker poured a handful of coins into the innkeeper’s hand. Then they were gone. I heard the outer door of the inn slam shut and at once I was on my feet.

As casually as I could, I made my way past the table where the men had been sitting. There was a small puddle of some liquid lying on the surface, which must have leaked from the phial when Parker knocked it over. Blocking the view of the table with my body, I dropped my handkerchief over it, wiped it up and pocketed my handkerchief again, then calling a goodnight to Niels and Marta I made my way to the stairs and my chamber.

Half frightened and half excited, I ran up the stairs, all tiredness forgotten. Once inside my chamber, I lit my candle, using a spill from the fire which, as usual, one of the maids had laid for me. Not knowing quite what to expect, I sat down on the edge of my bed and drew out my handkerchief. The liquid had made a stain, faintly grey in colour. Raising it to my nose, I smelled the damp patch. Then to be quite certain, I touched it lightly with the tip of my tongue. It had a bite like a bee sting, tempered by a cloying sweetness.

Now I knew what was in the phial. Belladonna. Deadly poison.

Chapter Ten

I realised that my hand, holding the stained handkerchief, was shaking. I got to my feet and walked over to the fire. Even as I raised my hand to throw the handkerchief on to the flames, I stopped. Cornelius Parker had given van Leyden money. Then he had given him a phial of belladonna. Van Leyden had seemed to be arguing with him. I closed my eyes and tried to picture them again, tried to read their intentions from their gestures and expressions. The more I concentrated on it, the more it seemed that van Leyden was not refusing the task, he was asking for more money.

So Parker, or someone he worked for, was paying van Leyden to poison someone. Van Leyden was willing, but wanted to be paid more. Parker had dealings with the Spanish. Van Leyden had the ear of the Earl of Leicester. My father had often told me that, when diagnosing illness, the simplest explanation of the symptoms was often the right one. The simplest explanation of these symptoms was that the Spanish wanted Leicester poisoned and van Leyden would be the instrument.

The poison could be meant for someone else. I was ignorant of all the by-ways and subtleties of the factions and enmities in Amsterdam, but I did know, from my own observations and general rumour – but above all from what Ettore Añez had told me – that there were divisions between the Dutch and the English over the war with Spain. I knew from what I had heard from Phelippes before leaving London that the Queen considered that she had already spent enough money and sacrificed enough English lives on behalf of the Dutch. Phelippes also believed that at the slightest excuse, Elizabeth would try to treat with Philip of Spain if she thought it would avert the threatened invasion.

What would poisoning Leicester achieve? It would remove the present commander of the English forces in the Low Countries. Leicester might be a poor commander, but if he were suddenly murdered chaos was bound to ensue. Parma could take advantage of that and sweep over the ill defended Low Countries. Or alternatively, if England believed the Dutch had poisoned the Earl as a result of their mistrust of him, English troops could, or would, be sent to attack the Dutch, which, in the end, would achieve Parma’s purpose without his having to risk the life of a single Spanish soldier.

Whichever way one looked at it, the consequences would be terrible.

As physicians we sometimes use belladonna to physic a weak heart or relieve pain or relax knotted muscles. It is then employed in tiny quantities and only in the hands of a skilled practitioner. Beyond that, even in quite small doses, it is fatal. I looked down at the handkerchief in my hand. No, I must not burn it. I must keep it safe as proof, if proof were needed, of what had passed between Cornelius Parker and van Leyden. I folded the handkerchief carefully, with the stained portion on the inside, and tucked it into the pocket of my shirt, inside my doublet.

The easiest way to administer belladonna would be in some very strong-tasting food or wine. I believed that a man of the Earl’s sophistication would detect it at once in his wine. That left food. When Berden and I had dined at the Earl’s house, the food had been brought up, ready prepared, from the kitchen. We had eaten roast beef with a very rich accompanying sauce. It would be possible to conceal the taste of belladonna in such a sauce, at least until it was too late and the victim had already consumed a fatal dose.

I suddenly remembered a recent case when it was discovered that a man sent by the treacherous English exiles in France was found to be working in the royal kitchens, planted there as an assassin. Fortunately he had been discovered before he could act, but the case had caused repercussions and fear, leading to increased vigilance around the Queen. If there was a cook or a scullion working in Leicester’s kitchen who was part of a conspiracy, it would be a simple matter for him to stir the contents of that phial into some thick, rich sauce. The result might be to poison others as well as the Earl, but I had no illusions that traitors cared about such things.

The poison might not be intended for the Earl, but for some personal enemy of Parker or van Leyden, but I could not take that risk. I must warn Leicester of the possibility. Conscious that I had heard a church clock strike midnight some time ago, I realised I could not call on the Earl tonight, but I must go as early as possible in the morning, to forestall any action by van Leyden. He would probably not wait long once the poison was in his possession.