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last of us. When a Flemish boat put into port, our gallant men stripped it of its entire cargo of dried herrings, after beating the crew half to death.
    At last, to our great relief, the professional soldiers arrived from the Low Countries, long after they were due, and with their help Sir John Norreys rounded up such of the rioting men as could be found (some had grown tired of waiting and gone home). Once they were herded, most unwillingly, on board, we were able finally to set sail. I was still living aboard the Victory , with the rest of the Portuguese party, where I had remained all the time we were in harbour, scarcely setting foot on shore. We were relieved at last to be on our way, for we were already three weeks past our planned departure date. Yet once out of harbour and in the Channel our ships were met by head winds and could make no way against them. They blew us straight back into Plymouth Sound.
    And back at Plymouth, anchored in the harbour, we found there was more bad news. It was Dr Nuñez who told me the story. I think he had grown a little tired of the company of Ruy Lopez and the Dom, sitting in state in their fine suite of cabins, for I often found him on deck like me.
    The Queen’s favourite, the wayward Earl of Essex, had been forbidden to come on the Portuguese venture. This was common knowledge before we left London.
    ‘However,’ said Dr Nuñez, ‘the Earl of Essex has disobeyed Her Majesty and fled London. It seems he was traced to Falmouth, and there he took ship on the Swiftsure , which had been ready provisioned and armed and waiting for him. He made his escape from Falmouth, with winds more favourable than those we encountered.’
    ‘Her Majesty will be furious,’ I said. ‘And so soon after the death of the Earl of Leicester, she will not want his stepson to run into danger.’
    ‘Nay. But he is headstrong and accustomed to getting his own way. Drake and Norreys have received instructions from Her Majesty to send Essex directly back to London, but he has slipped past everyone, not only the men she sent after him but our own expedition, what with his more favourable winds. He set sail while we were kicking our heels, waiting for the troops from the Low Countries.’
    For another twelve days we continued to kick our heels at Plymouth, with the provisions and the water dwindling away, until only a few days’ supply was left. And then, at last, the head wind abated, and under a threatening storm sky, which was as ill-omened as all that had gone before, Drake’s aptly named Revenge led us out to sea, and the Victory followed. Despite all the oaths I had sworn to myself, I was returning to Portugal, but nothing could drive away the memories of my final weeks there. As the fleet passed down the Channel and Plymouth Sound disappeared behind us, fear rose like vomit in my throat.
     

Chapter Four
    Coimbra , Portugal, 1582
    T he darkness closed over me and I was blind. I groped for my mother’s hand and found it, as cold and clammy as my own. Somewhere, someone was whimpering. I could not tell if it was my mother or myself, or someone else in the blackness which stretched out ahead, where we huddled by the iron-bound door which had slammed behind us. My mother put her arms around me and we clung together, not daring yet to speak, straining for any sound which might penetrate from beyond that door.
    ‘Where are we?’ I whispered at last.
    ‘In the prison of the Inquisition.’
    ‘But where is Father?’
    ‘They will have confined him in a separate cell, so we cannot confer together about how we should answer their questions.’
    ‘Questions?’
    ‘You must be brave, Caterina. Your father and I have always known this might happen. Ever since the Spanish came two years ago, and the Cardinal-Archduke Albrecht was made both governor of Portugal and Inquisitor General. He is most zealous against New Christians.’
    ‘What shall we do? Oh, what shall we do?’ I wailed.
    She held me tighter