The Enterprise of England (22 page)

‘Hans!’ I called again. ‘It is Dr Alvarez. Do you need help?’

He would not know my name, but perhaps my profession would provide reassurance. I was growing more and more uneasy. The dog ran from me toward the back of the house, then ran forward to me again. I followed him, groping my way in the small amount of light thrown by the open door. There appeared to be just one room, though it was difficult to judge until my eyes had adjusted to the dark interior.

He was lying on the bare boards at the far end of the single room, below the closed shutters of the only window. One stool. A rough table on which stood an empty plate, scattered with breadcrumbs, and an overturned ale mug made of stained horn. The stumps of his legs protruded from under the table, but the rest of his body was hidden from view, so I crouched down beside him. His wrist when I lifted it was as cold and clammy as the ice on the streets, but I did not need the absence of any pulse to tell me he was dead. His throat had been cut almost from ear to ear. There was a great deal of blood, but so cold was it in the house that it had frozen. The dog sat down beside me and whined softly in his throat.

Because of the bitter cold in the house it was difficult to judge how long the soldier had been dead, but the frozen blood indicated that it was many hours. I sat back on my heels, my heart pounding, unsure what I should do. I was a stranger here, and I was supposed to keep in the shadows, yet I could not leave this death unreported. Unsure of what legal system operated here – did they have coroners? – I realised that the best thing to do was to go back to the church and tell the minister what I had found. As I stood up, a frightening thought struck me. Could this death have any connection with Cornelius Parker, who had seen me speak to the soldier? Cornelius Parker whom the soldier called a ‘bad man’ and whom Ettore Añez considered untrustworthy and possibly dangerous? For although I might call it a death, it was in truth a murder.

I found the minister in the church, to my relief, for I did not know where he lived or who else had authority here.

‘Dead?’ he cried in a shocked voice. ‘This bitter weather. There are always some of the poor who are taken.’

‘It was not the cold,’ I said grimly. ‘His throat was cut.’

He pressed the knuckles of his right hand against his mouth, but even so could not suppress the cry that broke from him.

‘Killed? Murdered?’

I nodded. ‘I am a stranger here, a messenger come with despatches for the Earl of Leicester. I do not know how you manage such things here in Amsterdam.’ I looked at him appealingly. ‘I will be leaving in a day or two. Can you take charge? I would not know what to do.’

‘Of course, of course.’ He patted my shoulder absentmindedly. ‘You are not much more than a boy yourself. I will see that everything is taken care of.’

‘I touched nothing,’ I said, ‘except to take his pulse, though that was futile. It was his dog led me to him.’

‘His dog, of course. Something will have to be done about his dog.’ His passed a worried hand over his face.

‘I am staying at the Prins Willem, Dominee,’ I said, ‘if you need me, but really there is no way I can help. I simply saw him once by the church steps and gave him a few small coins.’

He nodded. ‘Someone would have found him, sooner or later. I do not think you will be needed.’ He took my hand and shook it. ‘Thank you for coming to me. Many would simply have fled.’

I felt like fleeing myself, but managed to walk quietly out of the church and down the steps. The dog was sitting on the bottom step, and I stopped to caress his head.

‘Poor fellow,’ I said. ‘I wonder what will become of you now?’

It was nearly dark as I hurried back to the inn, my heart beating fast as I thought of Cornelius Parker and that terrible wound. Several times I looked over my shoulder, but no one appeared to be following me, so I reproved myself for wild imaginings. What had this murder to do with me, a stranger passing through the town?

The inn was a haven of warmth and food and comfort. The usual crowds of soldiers were sitting around their usual tables, at the moment merely cheerful with beer and the improvement in the weather. I ordered a tankard of strong beer and when Marta had poured it, asked for a chop and greens. I carried my beer to a table tucked into a dark corner but near enough to the fire to feel some warmth, for I found I was shaking, now that I was safely off the street and within the embrace of four walls.

As I ate my food and drank a second beer, the soldiers eating and drinking at the central tables became more rowdy and noisier, but for once I welcomed their racket for its contrast with that cold empty house and the defenceless man lying alone and dead. I had finished eating and was growing sleepy with the warmth and the beer, when the door opened and a group of newcomers entered. One of them was Cornelius Parker, a man unmistakable from his girth and his domineering voice. I drew back from my table into the shadows. I was trapped now, for I could not go to my room without passing them.

There were three other men with him, clearly from their clothes and speech also Hollanders. They had their backs to me as they shed cloaks and scarves, hanging them on pegs inside the door and listening while Parker held forth in Dutch. For the first time I was frustrated that Dutch was a language I had never thought to learn. The men sat down round a table at the far side of the room from me, waving to Niels to bring them beer. Then as one of the men turned to address Parker I realised it was van Leyden.

All that Ettore Añez had told me about the failed merchant flashed through my mind and I recalled how I had last seen him, very much at ease, having dined with the Earl of Leicester and then enjoying his company in his private rooms. The back of my neck began to prick and I felt a trickle of sweat run down my spine. Cornelius Parker and van Leyden together. It seemed an ominous combination. I tried to convince myself that, as they were both members of the merchant community here in Amsterdam, they were bound to be acquainted, for this was a much smaller town than London, and even in London the merchants know one another, just as the members of the medical community do. All four men looked relaxed and unconcerned as they ordered food and more drink, looking fair set to spend the rest of the evening at the inn.

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.

I went back downstairs and found Marta Penders clearing away dirty beer mugs and plates in the parlour, which was now empty of any customers.

‘Mevrouw,’ I said, when she looked up, startled, to see me come in the door, ‘will you have me called early tomorrow? Before dawn? I have some early business I must attend to.’

‘Certainly, Me’
heer,’ she said with a smile. ‘I will call you myself.’

‘I thank you.’ I managed a smile for her, and took myself off to my chamber.

For the first time since I had bathed, I went to bed in my day clothes, only removing my boots and doublet, since I wanted to leave quickly in the morning. Try as I might, I could not sleep. My body ached for rest, but my mind teemed with speculation. And over and over I saw Hans Viederman lying cold on the beaten earth of his floor in a pool of frozen blood, with his dog whining beside him. Could his death, his murder, be connected to the two men who had whispered together over a purse of coin and a tiny bottle of poison? Perhaps Hans knew something, or had seen something. Perhaps he had overheard the two men speaking together. An impotent beggar, seated on his wheeled platform far below their line of sight, a nobody, an unregarded object familiar in the street – he might, unobserved, have discovered something. No one would ever know now. And probably his murderer would never be caught.

I must have slept at last, for I was woken by Marta Penders knocking on my door while it was still dark. I called out my thanks and crawled reluctantly from beneath the warmth of my feather bed. Once I had donned my boots and doublet I caught up my cloak and ran downstairs. The Penders family, who never seemed to rest, were breaking their own fast in the parlour.

‘Come, Dr Alvarez,’ Niels said, ‘will you join us? There is plenty.’

I hesitated. I realised that it was still far too early to call on the Earl, so I thanked him and sat down to the usual Dutch breakfast of cold meats and several kinds of cheese, washed down, today, with hot spiced ale.

‘To keep out the cold,’ Marta explained, as she poured a generous measure for me. ‘The frost is harder than ever this morning. What will it be like in January?’

‘What indeed,’ I said. ‘Master Berden and I should be returning to
England soon, but I fear we will have a cold journey of it.’

‘Indeed you will. I am glad I do not have to travel.’

I looked round at their friendly, uncomplicated faces. Things might go badly for them if serious hostilities were to break out between the two nations. I wanted to ask them what they knew of Parker and van Leyden, but such questions would be indiscreet, perhaps even dangerous.

Once outside I could see the first faint glimmer of light in the sky away to the east, and the darkness of night had thinned enough for me to find my way to the Earl’s house. The surface of the snow had frozen hard again, so that I had to watch my step. Several times I slipped and only saved myself from falling by catching hold of a tree or a wall. Once I did fall, sprawling full length in the snow and striking my shoulder hard against the projecting step of a house. It took a moment or two for me to get to my feet, for all the breath had been knocked out of me. My shoulder hurt and was probably bruised.

I reached the Earl’s house at last, feeling somewhat battered from my fall. As I had hoped, his servants were already astir. A maid was sweeping the front steps free of snow and through the archway at the side of the house I could hear activity in the stables. I perched on a bollard, used for mooring the canal boats, about twenty yards from the house, glad of the chance to sit down. From here I could see who came and went, and could judge, from the activity about the house, how soon it might be possible to call on the Earl. If I saw van Leyden arrive, I would go in at once, otherwise I would wait.

Time crawled by. There was no sign of van Leyden. Perhaps I had misunderstood what I had witnessed last night. Perhaps van Leyden was intending to poison someone, but not the Earl. When I saw that all the shutters of the house had been opened and a boy in military dress had been admitted, clearly carrying a satchel of despatches, I decided to approach and ask if I might see the Earl. By now the sun was up and the people of
Amsterdam were busy about their affairs in the streets.

The same liveried servant admitted me and, recognising me, agreed at once to ask if the Earl would see me. He led me up the stairs as before and asked me to wait outside the door to the Earl’s private parlour while he went in. After a few moments he bowed me through. The Earl was seated at the dining table, facing me, while another man sat opposite him, his back toward me.

The Earl smiled politely. ‘Dr Alvarez, come in. Are you returning to England so soon? I thought it was to be at least another ten days before you leave us.’

I remembered that we had promised to call and see whether the Earl had any papers he wished us to carry. He must think that was why I was here.

‘My lord,’ I said, bowing, ‘Master Berden has not yet returned to Amsterdam, for I expect he has been delayed by the bad weather. We are not yet ready to leave. I wished to see you about another matter.’

I advanced further into the room and as I did so, the other man turned to look at me. It was van Leyden.

I was so shocked that I froze where I was. How could van Leyden be here? I had watched the house from before dawn. He had certainly not entered the house while I had been watching. Then the truth hit me with the physical force of a blow. Van Leyden must be living here. I knew that he acted as a go-between for the English and Dutch armies. What more natural than that he should be quartered in the Earl’s accommodation in Amsterdam? He must have come straight back here last night after he left the Prins Willem.

As I stood there, speechless, I felt the blood drain from my face, then flood back again. From my own medical knowledge I recognised it as a sign of shock. But I must not lose my nerve. I bowed to van Leyden, who returned my bow. There was nothing in his manner to suggest that he suspected me of any knowledge of his affairs.

‘My lord,’ I said again, ‘I would beg the opportunity to speak to you about a private matter.’ I tried not to catch van Leyden’s eye as I said it.

Leicester
looked annoyed. It was clear that I had interrupted their meal and he had little time for importunate visitors at this early hour of the morning.

‘Can it not wait?’ He gestured brusquely at the table with its half consumed dishes. I wondered whether I was already too late.

‘I will take up only a few moments of your time, my lord.’ I bowed again, hoping my respectful and humble tone would assuage his annoyance.

He sighed deeply, wiped his mouth on his napkin and threw it down. ‘Very well. Van Leyden, you can fetch those papers you translated for me and we will discuss them when I have finished with Dr Alvarez.’

Van Leyden rose and bowed to Leicester. With his back to the Earl he gave me a venomous look, which I hoped sprang only from his interrupted meal and not the realisation of why I was here. As soon as he had left the room and I heard his footsteps ascending the stairs to the next floor, I stepped hurriedly nearer to Leicester and lowered my voice.

‘My lord, I believe I have stumbled upon a plot to poison you.’

At that Leicester sat up sharply, no longer looking irritated and bored. I recalled that there had been several attempts on his life before, so he was probably not surprised.

The words tumbled out in my haste to explain before van Leyden returned.

‘I have been warned about two men in Amsterdam who might be dangerous, then yesterday evening they were sitting in the inn where I am staying, the Prins Willem. They had their heads close together, not wanting to be overheard.’

‘Did you hear them?’ He snapped the words out.

‘They were speaking Dutch, my lord.’

‘Go on.’

‘One man passed a purse of coin to the other, then a small phial of liquid. In his haste he knocked it over and a little spilled on the table. They left soon after, but I wiped up the spill with my handkerchief.’ I took out my handkerchief and handed it to him. ‘It is belladonna. Deadly poison.’

‘What made you think it was intended for me?’ He took the handkerchief and looked at the stain, but did not smell or touch it.

‘The first man was Cornelius Parker, who has dealings with the Spanish and is not trusted by the merchant community here.’ I paused. ‘My lord, you may have realised that Master Berden and I were sent here because of your suspicions of treachery. I believe this is what I have discovered.’

‘You have not said why you think I was to be the victim.’

I looked at the half eaten dishes. ‘You do not feel any ill effects this morning?’

‘Of course not.’ He was becoming angry.

‘My lord, the second man, the man who took the money and the poison, was the man who was here just now, van Leyden.’

His reaction was quite unexpected. He threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘You are much mistaken, Dr Alvarez. Van Leyden is a loyal friend and servant. I would trust him with my life. I do trust him with my life. Here, take your handkerchief and your tale of poisoning. I think you have been misled by the enthusiasm of youth and your master Walsingham’s belief in traitors hiding behind every wall hanging. Young men must have their adventures to make themselves important.’