Treachery

‘This bookseller …’ Doubt prickles at the back of my neck. ‘Do you remember his name?’

Drake frowns. ‘I’m not sure I ever knew it. Dunne took me to meet him in Paul’s Churchyard – if we were formally introduced, I have forgotten the name he gave. I will tell you one striking thing about him, though.’

‘Yes?’ I raise my eyebrows, though I am almost certain I know what he is going to say.

‘He had no ears.’

Sidney and I look at one another.

‘It was another reason not to trust him,’ Drake continues, though he has not missed the glance. ‘You don’t lose both ears by accident. He’d clearly been punished as a common criminal at some point, though for what I don’t know.’

‘Sedition,’ I say, almost without thinking. Drake stares at me.

‘You know this man?’

‘Possibly.’ My fingertips stray to my throat as my memory flashes back to my time in Oxford.

‘How many book dealers have had both ears cut off?’ Sidney says, turning to me. ‘It must be him.’

‘It’s a good thing you didn’t sell it to him,’ I say. ‘Though that won’t stop him trying to obtain it by any means, if we are talking of the same man.’

‘Then it is valuable?’ Drake leans forward, a gleam in his eyes.

‘For the love of Christ, Bruno – tell us what it is,’ Sidney says, exasperated.

I take a deep breath, trying to keep my voice even.

‘If it is genuine, this is a book the Holy Office swore did not exist. Bishop Irenaeus of Lyon mentioned it in the second century, in his treatise against the Gnostic heresies, but to the best of my knowledge, that is the only surviving reference. The Vatican library has always denied its existence, though that has not stopped scholars pursuing the scent of it—’

‘Spare us the lecture, man, cut to the point,’ Thomas Drake says, from his post by the door. ‘Tell us what it is.’

I look at him until he looks away, then I begin to read, keeping my voice as low as I can:

‘“The secret account of the revelation that Jesus spoke in conversation with Judas Iscariot three days before he celebrated Passover.”’

Thomas Drake just blinks, and shrugs. Sir Francis peers at the manuscript, his brow creased, as if he is trying to puzzle out the meaning. Only Sidney regards me with a glimmer of understanding.

‘The testimony of Judas Iscariot.’ He hesitates. ‘But it must be a fiction, surely?’

I rub the parchment gently between my finger and thumb. ‘Not necessarily.’

‘I am still none the wiser, gentlemen,’ Drake says. ‘Would you care to enlighten us poor sailors?’

I look at him, considering where to begin.

‘The holy scriptures contain four accounts of the life and death of Jesus Christ, those we call the gospels of the four evangelists, that were accepted by the Church Fathers as true and divinely inspired and which more or less corroborate each other. This we all know.’ I tap the book on my lap. ‘But there were many other accounts circulating in the early years of the Church, alternative gospels that fell outside orthodox doctrine and so were suppressed, destroyed, forbidden. Among them was rumoured to be a Gospel of Judas.’

Drake looks from me to the book and back. ‘Written by his own hand?’

‘Some think so. Legends have grown around its substance. The Gnostics believed it vindicated Judas Iscariot, unravelled the whole story of salvation and would overturn the foundations of the Christian faith.’ My hands are trembling on the page as I speak. If this manuscript should be genuine, if it should prove that the story of mankind’s salvation has been based on false accounts, if there were another version of the story … what then?

‘What should be done with it?’ Drake says. His expression suggests he is struggling to take this in.

‘Best to keep it under lock and key, for now. And on no account sell it to that book dealer with no ears.’

‘Why, what does he want with it?’ Thomas Drake demands.

‘I don’t know yet.’ I look down at the manuscript; there is no way of assessing its significance without reading it in its entirety. ‘He may want to sell it to the highest bidder. Or he may have other plans.’

‘Oh, no, no, no. If there is a high price to be had for this book, I shall be the one doing the selling.’ Sir Francis sets his jaw and fixes me with a defiant eye.

‘The Jesuit already paid a high price for it. He worked for the library of the Vatican, you say?’

‘According to Jonas,’ Drake says. ‘Why?’

‘Then it would seem reasonable to assume that he found the book there. So why was he taking it away, to the other side of the world? With the knowledge of his superiors, or without? Either way, someone must have noticed it missing and followed its trail. It would not surprise me to learn that the Holy Office has agents out looking for this book, even now.’ Voicing this aloud causes a chill to run through me. If there is one quality the Roman Inquisition can never be accused of lacking, it is tenacity. And are they still looking for me, I wonder? I lower my eyes and take a deep breath. I am a free man, in a Protestant country; it is nine years since I ran from my monastery in Naples, rather than face the Inquisition. Surely they have forgotten me by now? But I already know the answer: the Inquisition never forgets. ‘This book could tear the Church apart,’ I add, looking up and meeting Drake’s frank gaze. ‘It could plunge Europe into war, if its contents are made known. You may be sure the Vatican wants it back, at any price.’

‘Europe is already tearing itself apart over the interpretation of the scriptures,’ Sidney says, as if the whole business bores him. ‘Bread, wine, flesh, blood. Purgatory, Pope, predestination. How much difference can one more gospel make?’

I look at him with reproach. ‘You can say that because your country has never had the Inquisition.’

‘We had Bloody Mary,’ he retorts. ‘Plenty still alive remember what she did in the name of pure faith.’

Drake watches us, his chin resting on his fist. ‘Perhaps the best thing would be to hand it over to Her Majesty. She can have her scholars examine it and dispose of it as she thinks fit. I would not for all the world give it back into the hands of the Pope.’

‘Perhaps. But someone should read it first,’ I say quickly. ‘And make a copy, in case anything should happen to this one.’

‘By someone, I suppose you mean you?’ Thomas Drake says, with that sardonic tone he saves for me and Sidney.

‘Unless you can read Coptic script, Thomas Drake, I see no one else for the job,’ Sidney fires back, in my defence.

Thomas narrows his eyes at him. ‘So your friend is proposing we hand the book to him. What guarantee do we have that we will ever see it again? He seems to know this book dealer well, and have a shrewd idea of its value. And – saving your presence, master – he is Italian.’

‘You have my word of honour, which should suffice among gentlemen,’ Sidney says as he stands, his right hand straying instinctively to his sword. Thomas Drake takes a step forward, chest out. He has not missed Sidney’s emphasis, and its implication.

‘Peace, both of you,’ Drake says, with a warning glance. Chastened, Sidney sits and Thomas retreats to his position by the door post. ‘Of course Bruno must be the one to read it. But you will have to do it in my cabin on board the Elizabeth. A wise man told me not to let it out of my sight.’ He smiles, to draw the sting from any offence.

‘But what has any of this to do with Robert Dunne’s death?’ Thomas says, though with less bluster than before.

Drake shakes his head.

‘Has anyone looked through Dunne’s personal effects?’ I ask.

‘No,’ Drake says. ‘I had thought to gather them up for the family when they arrive, but I have not had time. The cabin has been kept locked since the body was taken out.’

‘Good. He had been seen about the town in the days before he died, meeting two strangers. It would be worth seeing whether he kept any correspondence, or anything that might identify them. Though I suppose we have an idea now.’ I grimace at Sidney. ‘We must see if we can find out who brought that Judas letter to the Star to be delivered to you. And I would like to talk to your Spanish translator about the young Jesuit.’ My mind is already moving ahead, outpacing my own objections.

‘I told you – Bruno will find this killer in no time,’ Sidney says, rubbing his hands together with satisfaction.