Armada

Robert stayed silent this time, not daring to speak again. As the news began to sink in, he smiled slightly. Hawkins noticed the change and frowned.

‘Be mindful, Varian,’ he warned. ‘I freely confirm Drake’s decision. Although this ship is mine, the Retribution remains in the service of the Queen. I will need to convince the Privy Council of the wisdom of my choice. I have Drake’s endorsement, which carries a lot of weight. He too comes from humble origins and commands the entire fleet. You have proved yourself worthy in mine and Drake’s eyes, but now you must put our decision beyond all reproach.’

‘Yes, sir,’ Robert replied solemnly. Did this mean his command remained as precarious as it was before?

Hawkins nodded, satisfied. As he departed the Retribution, Robert remained at the gunwale and watched the longboat pull away until it was lost from sight behind another galleon. The captaincy was his, bestowed by Drake and confirmed by Hawkins – but it was still there for the taking by another, until he could fully justify the faith of his commanders.

The crew was his first priority. The Retribution was in need of a master’s mate, and Robert immediately thought of Tobias Miller of the Spirit. He trusted Miller completely and would need him in the months ahead.

In building the Retribution, the shipwrights of England had created a warship that finely balanced a fearsome arsenal of cannon with the sailing abilities of a predator. Robert would need to master that balance if he was to retain his command. The Retribution was his, and he silently vowed to do whatever it would take to keep her.

Nichols cursed loudly as he fell heavily for the third time on the wet grass. He looked down at his mud covered breeches and for a brief second wondered how he would explain his appearance should he encounter anyone. He clambered to his feet and continued to run up the hill. The copse was dead ahead, only fifty yards away. He prayed he was not too late, knowing the value of the information he held.

Nichols crashed through the rain soaked undergrowth and stopped suddenly. He cocked his head to listen but his own laboured breathing and the sound of his heart filled his ears. He held his breath to still them but the effort caused him to cough violently.

‘Over here,’ he heard a voice hiss and he pushed towards it. He saw Cross a moment later standing by his horse, seemingly poised to mount. He was looking beyond Nichols into the trees behind him.

‘What news?’ he asked. ‘Has the priest come?’

‘Two days ago,’ Nichols replied.

‘And?’

‘The traitor’s name is Robert Young.’

Cross slammed a fist into his open palm in triumph. ‘Tell me everything.’

Nichols began to speak, recalling the meeting between the duke and Father Blackthorne with his usual attention to detail.

‘The son of Nathaniel Young,’ Cross breathed, putting his hand up to silence the butler. Nathaniel Young was near the top of almost every list Cross had ever seen of prominent traitors who were believed to be active on the continent. But he had never heard of his son, or even knew one existed.

‘You’re sure that is what the priest said?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Nichols replied tetchily, eager to continue his story. His next words caused Cross to interrupt again. ‘Sacred Heart of Jesus. Nathaniel Young is Clarsdale’s contact in Spain?’

Nichols made to reply but Cross indicated for him to continue. Cross barely registered the final part. All he could think of was the contact that had been exposed. Tasked with a mission as important as discovering the movements and strategy of the English navy, Nathaniel Young was surely near the centre of power in Spain. Maybe he even had the ear of Philip himself.

‘The priest did not say what position this Robert Young holds in the navy?’

‘No. And he does not go by that name. Father Blackthorne said he adopted the name of the family who took him in after his father fled into exile.’

‘And the priest did not mention their name?’

‘No,’ Nichols replied irritably. ‘If they had I would already have told you.’

Cross made to reprimand Nichols for his insubordinate tone but he thought better of it. The butler had proved valuable beyond all expectations, and he needed to keep him firmly on side.