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else.’
    Tilney shrugged. ‘I meant nothing by my remark. If you inferred anything, examine your own conscience.’
    ‘Damn you, Tilney, I will not listen to this.’ Shakespeare turned away, as though nursing hurt pride.
    Anthony Babington had evidently been listening to the exchange. ‘Pay him no heed, Mr Shakespeare. The likes of Tilney are a mischief that must be endured. We need such men.’
    ‘Forgive me. I am too sensitive.’ Shakespeare changed the subject. ‘Is there word from Captain Fortescue and Mr Maude? We must hope they return soon.’
    ‘Indeed, Mr Shakespeare. They are much missed, but they are doing God’s work.’
    ‘In the north?’
    Babington raised a finger, like a schoolmaster. ‘We do not ask such questions. It is enough that they are God’s soldiers, which is a noble calling. Are you a soldier of God, Mr Shakespeare? Will you take up your sword and pistol and follow me?’
    Shakespeare was momentarily nonplussed, surprised by the openness of the invitation. At last he found a light way to reply. ‘My weapon is my mind. I fear I would make a better target than a shooter. But I will do all that is required of me. I am yours to command.’
    ‘What then, Mr Shakespeare? What will you do when God calls you?’ Babington gazed around the room at his drinking companions with a measure of scorn. ‘Will you crawl back into your hole and tell yourself that it was nothing but a brandy-fuelled game, more to do with feasting than carrying out His holy work?’ His voice lowered. ‘Or will your blade taste blood for Him?’
    ‘Do you doubt me? Perhaps you doubt the other fellows here?’
    ‘They will do well enough. But I am intrigued by you. Mr Savage says you are to be trusted, but I do not know you as well as he does. And you answer my question with questions.’
    ‘Let my actions speak while others boast.’
    ‘Then I will trust you.’ Babington’s smile did not extend to his eyes.
    Although all those present looked up to Babington as their leader, for he was their senior in wealth and swagger, Shakespeare thought of him as a boy leading boys. The test would come when they were required to be men.
    ‘And if you are as true as I must believe, then you are indeed of the first importance to us,’ Babington continued.
    Shakespeare gave a little bow of his head. ‘Indeed, Mr Babington, I do not know whether to be flattered or afraid.’
    ‘I do not flatter. If you are afraid, you must conquer it. As for these others . . .’ Babington gazed once more around the noisy room, ‘their comfortable life cannot endure much longer. The real work must begin. You, Mr Shakespeare, are the dog in the yard to warn us of impending harm. You will be the one to bring word to us if the satanic Walsingham begins to take an unhealthy interest in those gathered here.’
    Shakespeare bowed again. ‘Mr Babington, I must tell you that he already takes an interest in you. He takes an interest in everyone , both in England and across the great capitals of Europe. It is said he even has agents in Peru and the Indies.’
    ‘But us in particular?’
    ‘I have told you about the information he receives from street spies.’ Half-truths, Shakespeare thought wryly; he would not mention the spies who watched from the inside, men like Slide and Gifford and Shakespeare himself. ‘Mr Secretary knows the Pope’s White Sons as recusants of noble and gentle birth. But there are many such in London and further afield. In some counties of the Midlands and the north, there are many more Catholics among the gentry than there are Protestants. Walsingham does not like them, but nor does he take most of them seriously.’
    ‘But we are not in the shires.’
    ‘It means nothing. Why, the court itself has its share of men and women who stand firm to the true faith. Walsingham knows all their names. He watches them all, but will only move against them if they are too open in harbouring priests or engaging in sedition. And so he