Read The Marlowe Papers Online
Authors: Ros Barber
Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Literary, #Biographical, #Women's Prize for Fiction - all candidates
The Marlowe Papers (14 page)
The game was simple. It was not to lose.
The game was complicated. It was this:
The game was complicated. It was this:
If he was Catholic, I was Catholic too.
If loyal Protestant, I mirrored him.
If loyal Protestant, I mirrored him.
Neither of us committed to a thing.
I let slip nothing that was not my view.
I let slip nothing that was not my view.
And yet I bathed in contradiction, sharp
to each shade of his behaviour. Faith, we were
chameleons trying to conceal ourselves
in the ever-changing colours of the other,
so standing out against the barren hues
of that bitter coastal town. And like a scene
unravelling before me on a stage,
my mind’s eye conjures up the day it changed.
to each shade of his behaviour. Faith, we were
chameleons trying to conceal ourselves
in the ever-changing colours of the other,
so standing out against the barren hues
of that bitter coastal town. And like a scene
unravelling before me on a stage,
my mind’s eye conjures up the day it changed.
Baines is as bony as a beaten hound.
And me? Cocksure, bright-eyed, ridiculous.
Our pie has just arrived.
And me? Cocksure, bright-eyed, ridiculous.
Our pie has just arrived.
And spying us,
across the tavern, munching gristled beef,
is a dead man.
is a dead man.
Gilbert Gifford.
‘4,’ I breathe,
and his jaw falls open as he reads my lips,
then fiercely resumes its chewing, eyesight dropped
to read the grain of the table.
then fiercely resumes its chewing, eyesight dropped
to read the grain of the table.
‘For? For what?’
Baines is intrigued to read the shock on me.
Six years before. My first assignment. 4
was the spy we most admired. As slick as wax,
and warming the kirtle of the Queen of Scots
as he passed her coded letters. Ordained at Rheims
the year I left Cambridge. Later caught in bed
with a whore. Jailed by his Catholic friends. And dead.
was the spy we most admired. As slick as wax,
and warming the kirtle of the Queen of Scots
as he passed her coded letters. Ordained at Rheims
the year I left Cambridge. Later caught in bed
with a whore. Jailed by his Catholic friends. And dead.
‘For pity’s sake,’ I say, ‘that meat is tough.
Look at him chewing. Do you know that man?’
(
My God
! What was he doing in a port
so full of spies, when Poley had fixed his death
in a Paris prison not three months before?)
But Baines is in the dark. ‘I’ve seen his face
these last few days but don’t possess his name.
I’ll ask.’
Look at him chewing. Do you know that man?’
(
My God
! What was he doing in a port
so full of spies, when Poley had fixed his death
in a Paris prison not three months before?)
But Baines is in the dark. ‘I’ve seen his face
these last few days but don’t possess his name.
I’ll ask.’
‘No—’
As he leaps up, deathly keen
to inflict a meeting, I forget myself.
‘He may be offended,’ I explain, ‘by me.
That I was staring.’
‘He may be offended,’ I explain, ‘by me.
That I was staring.’
‘Tush. Don’t be a mouse.’
Baines stride-hops over like a half-chewed goose
and stops at the other’s table. Though I strain
to catch their conversation, it is lost
in the songs of a dozen soldiers at the bar
comparing wives to liquor. Gifford laughs;
they both glance over.
and stops at the other’s table. Though I strain
to catch their conversation, it is lost
in the songs of a dozen soldiers at the bar
comparing wives to liquor. Gifford laughs;
they both glance over.
Then the dead man nods,
abandons his bowl of stew, picks up his beer,
and follows Baines towards me.
and follows Baines towards me.
Baines is pleased.
What odds, two former bogus Catholic priests –
one rumoured to be dead, one broken-kneed –
have come this way to sift me?
one rumoured to be dead, one broken-kneed –
have come this way to sift me?
‘Since his beef
was inhumanely tough, I said he might
share some of our rabbit pie.’ Baines stands aside
for the weathered man who once looked like a child
to introduce himself. 4 has a skill
more powerful than Ned’s. The lie is steel.
share some of our rabbit pie.’ Baines stands aside
for the weathered man who once looked like a child
to introduce himself. 4 has a skill
more powerful than Ned’s. The lie is steel.
‘It’s Gilbert. Gifford Gilbert.’ He gives his hand
as though I’d never taken from its clutch
the notes to Walsingham that laid the trail
one Queen of Scotland followed to the block.
An oddly bloodless hand, and glacial look.
‘Gilbert,’ I echo, as if the name reversed
has turned him inside out. ‘I’m Morley, sir.
Called Christopher.’ So begins another game.
as though I’d never taken from its clutch
the notes to Walsingham that laid the trail
one Queen of Scotland followed to the block.
An oddly bloodless hand, and glacial look.
‘Gilbert,’ I echo, as if the name reversed
has turned him inside out. ‘I’m Morley, sir.
Called Christopher.’ So begins another game.
‘What brings you to Flushing?’
Not a hint of sly,
deception’s signature not in his voice,
no hint of recognition in his eye.
‘I come as a messenger.’
no hint of recognition in his eye.
‘I come as a messenger.’
‘Ah, Mercury.
My favourite of all the Roman gods.’
Had I imagined that some Paris brick
had knocked all memory clean from his skull,
his use of my codename clarified the rules.
‘Are you staying long?’
Had I imagined that some Paris brick
had knocked all memory clean from his skull,
his use of my codename clarified the rules.
‘Are you staying long?’
‘Not long.’
Just long enough
to ascertain Dick’s contact. And to play
another round of Who’s In Catholic Pay?
‘And on what business do
you
pass this way?’
I ask the handsome corpse.
another round of Who’s In Catholic Pay?
‘And on what business do
you
pass this way?’
I ask the handsome corpse.
‘Oh, for my trade.’
‘What is your trade?’
‘A goldsmith,’ Gifford lies,
audaciously demanding my belief.
‘I give shape to the precious. What of you?’
‘I give shape to the precious. What of you?’
‘For my sins, I’m a scholar,’ I reply.
‘I give shape to the precious also, but the gold
flees to the hands of others.’
‘I give shape to the precious also, but the gold
flees to the hands of others.’
‘And your trade?’
he asks of Baines.
‘I trade in human souls,’
Baines mutters without blinking. ‘I’m employed
to find good men wherever they may be.’
to find good men wherever they may be.’
‘Is that a trade?’
‘Recruitment? Possibly
it’s more of a vocation.’
Baines has sliced
a section of pie and hands it to our guest
on my empty trencher.
on my empty trencher.
‘Who do you work for?’
Gifford’s pretence at innocence demands
he asks such forward questions. Baines, exposed
by a twitch on his cheek, replies, ‘Whoever pays.’
he asks such forward questions. Baines, exposed
by a twitch on his cheek, replies, ‘Whoever pays.’
We laugh at the sour joke, and make a toast
to the paymasters, whoever they may be,
that feed this poet, crippled spy, and ghost.
to the paymasters, whoever they may be,
that feed this poet, crippled spy, and ghost.
So we became a threesome, thick with spells
we might cast on each other. Gifford made
some sad excuse of homelessness: some bill
for a phantom signet ring due any day –
was grateful to lodge his body in that room
where we might frisk each other’s souls, unheard.
we might cast on each other. Gifford made
some sad excuse of homelessness: some bill
for a phantom signet ring due any day –
was grateful to lodge his body in that room
where we might frisk each other’s souls, unheard.
A week went by, during which time we stuck
so closely to each other’s sides, we stank;
needing the privy all at once, like girls,
so as not to miss a whisper. What we lacked
we held in common: the coppers to pay our chits
and the knowledge that might furnish us with gold.
so closely to each other’s sides, we stank;
needing the privy all at once, like girls,
so as not to miss a whisper. What we lacked
we held in common: the coppers to pay our chits
and the knowledge that might furnish us with gold.
Grief! The pretence we made, of being friends,
began to wear in like a favourite cloak,
and I relaxed into that dangerous state
as though too deaf to understand the joke
that every one of us was counterfeit,
and more in need of truth than we’d admit.
began to wear in like a favourite cloak,
and I relaxed into that dangerous state
as though too deaf to understand the joke
that every one of us was counterfeit,
and more in need of truth than we’d admit.
Money was almost all we spoke about.
Baines wanted more.
Baines wanted more.
Unsummoned comes his voice,
edged like an axe. ‘A crown is just enough
to pass your message. A reply costs two.’
And again the past comes vividly alive:
that room, my younger self, and Richard Baines
limping this way and that to warm his bones.
to pass your message. A reply costs two.’
And again the past comes vividly alive:
that room, my younger self, and Richard Baines
limping this way and that to warm his bones.
I weigh him up. ‘I’ll pay you when it comes.
I’m clipped at the minute.’
I’m clipped at the minute.’
‘I will need it first.’
He shakes his head at the floorboards. Cold, so cold,
and I back against the warmth of a chimney breast
fed by the heat from someone’s fire below.
Baines fidgets at the window. ‘Here he comes.
Back from the docks, I see. Not looking well.
He’s ill-clad for a goldsmith, don’t you think?’
and I back against the warmth of a chimney breast
fed by the heat from someone’s fire below.
Baines fidgets at the window. ‘Here he comes.
Back from the docks, I see. Not looking well.
He’s ill-clad for a goldsmith, don’t you think?’
‘His cuffs are a little worn.’
‘Yes. And his shoes,
two seasons old at least.’
‘Your point is what?’
‘Our friend may not be all he seems to be.
Or more. You know this town is full of spies.’
His eyes on me.
Or more. You know this town is full of spies.’
His eyes on me.
‘If you suspect him so,
then why invite him to come in with us?’
I ask. He limps to the bed to relieve his bones
from the stress of standing. ‘What you do not know,
young scholar, could be stretched between the stars
and hang the world’s washing. There’s great benefit
in keeping close those folk you do not trust.
Though half a wheel keeps stiller than a whole,
only the wheel that turns is immune to rust.
Gilbert!’ he greets him. ‘What a nice surprise.’
(Leaving me to decode his homilies.)
‘I thought you would be gone two hours at least.
You have your money?’
I ask. He limps to the bed to relieve his bones
from the stress of standing. ‘What you do not know,
young scholar, could be stretched between the stars
and hang the world’s washing. There’s great benefit
in keeping close those folk you do not trust.
Though half a wheel keeps stiller than a whole,
only the wheel that turns is immune to rust.
Gilbert!’ he greets him. ‘What a nice surprise.’
(Leaving me to decode his homilies.)
‘I thought you would be gone two hours at least.
You have your money?’
‘No.’ The boyish face
that, legend has it, charmed a dozen nuns
into breaking their vows to Christ, is sour with age.
He throws his jacket off. ‘The boat has sailed.’
into breaking their vows to Christ, is sour with age.
He throws his jacket off. ‘The boat has sailed.’
Had coinage passed between us quite as freely
as talk of it, we would all three be rich.
as talk of it, we would all three be rich.
Over some broth: ‘Stanley’s in want of funds.’
Baines offers common knowledge like a gift
I should be grateful for. ‘That is well known,’
I answer.
Baines offers common knowledge like a gift
I should be grateful for. ‘That is well known,’
I answer.
Did the slight lead me astray?
Why would I add, ‘And more in want of funds
since the man who pressed his coins was put away.’
since the man who pressed his coins was put away.’
‘What man?’
‘John Poole,’ I say. ‘I met him once.
In Newgate.’ This news ignites our Richard Baines
as a spark strikes out of flint. Here is the key,
I think to myself, engaging with the lock
of Baines and turning him. ‘And did he speak?’
as a spark strikes out of flint. Here is the key,
I think to myself, engaging with the lock
of Baines and turning him. ‘And did he speak?’
The veins of his eyes are like faint trails of blood
across some week-old snow. I make him wait.
Gifford is leaning inwards, though he feigns
to pick dirt from his nails.
across some week-old snow. I make him wait.
Gifford is leaning inwards, though he feigns
to pick dirt from his nails.
‘So? Did he speak?’
‘Yes, a most prodigious speaker.’
‘That is he,’
Baines nods and sits back, coldly satisfied.
‘If words were food, he’d vomit himself skeletal.
You spent long with him, did you? Dear John Poole.
How was he?’
‘If words were food, he’d vomit himself skeletal.
You spent long with him, did you? Dear John Poole.
How was he?’
A sudden rush of chilly air.
‘Alive,’ I say. ‘Grateful to be alive.
Look smart. The drink is coming.’
Look smart. The drink is coming.’
We put coins
in the wench’s hand; Baines takes no pleasure in it;
remarks, ‘How quickly money runs away.’
remarks, ‘How quickly money runs away.’
‘Yet how many ways to make it,’ Gifford muses,
sipping a drowsy beer. ‘If we but knew.’
‘You are a goldsmith,’ Baines says, ‘surely you
could press a coin or two.’ Gifford’s awake
immediately to the danger. ‘Do you ask
could I commit a treason? No, I couldn’t.’
sipping a drowsy beer. ‘If we but knew.’
‘You are a goldsmith,’ Baines says, ‘surely you
could press a coin or two.’ Gifford’s awake
immediately to the danger. ‘Do you ask
could I commit a treason? No, I couldn’t.’
But Baines’s smile is serpentine. ‘Not tried?
Even for fun? To see if you’ve the skill
to make a coin that’s passable.’
Even for fun? To see if you’ve the skill
to make a coin that’s passable.’
‘I’ve not,’
Gifford says firmly, his conviction melded
with the fact he’s never handled molten metal.
An opportunity to whip away
my former contact’s cover; bond with Baines
in his unmasking. And in doing so,
remove his complication. Sorry, 4.
with the fact he’s never handled molten metal.
An opportunity to whip away
my former contact’s cover; bond with Baines
in his unmasking. And in doing so,
remove his complication. Sorry, 4.
‘Why, Gilbert,’ I say, ‘what treason could there be
in testing a goldsmith’s talents?’
in testing a goldsmith’s talents?’
Baines concurs.
‘Should anyone find out – and how would they?
we’d vouch for you. That it was just a game,
and not in earnest. Why, we’d not strike coins
in any quantity. And not in gold.’
we’d vouch for you. That it was just a game,
and not in earnest. Why, we’d not strike coins
in any quantity. And not in gold.’
‘But pressing coins? That is a specialist skill.
My talents lie in crafting jewellery.’
Yet mutinous pearls of sweat had broken out
across his temples. Me: ‘It isn’t hard
from what I understand. John Poole described
the process in some detail.’
My talents lie in crafting jewellery.’
Yet mutinous pearls of sweat had broken out
across his temples. Me: ‘It isn’t hard
from what I understand. John Poole described
the process in some detail.’
Richard Baines
picks up the thread. ‘I’d truly like to see
how easy – or hard – it is to press a coin
that is persuasive. If Marlowe would tell us more.’
how easy – or hard – it is to press a coin
that is persuasive. If Marlowe would tell us more.’
‘Morley,’ I say.
‘Of course. What did I say?’
‘Another name.’
Gifford objecting then,
‘I have no metals. Until my bill is paid.’
‘We
do
have metals. Why, this pewter spoon
would make five shillings.’
do
have metals. Why, this pewter spoon
would make five shillings.’
‘Poor ones.’
‘All the same.’
How did I miss that Baines knew both my names?
We needed wax, and clay, and crucible.
Inn candles were purloined for wax; the clay
brought from the shoreline by an eager Baines.
Inn candles were purloined for wax; the clay
brought from the shoreline by an eager Baines.
‘I don’t believe I have a crucible,’
said Gifford, and moments afterwards,
said Gifford, and moments afterwards,
‘What’s this?’
Baines lifted the unused prop from Gifford’s things.
‘Is this not a crucible?’
‘Is this not a crucible?’
Defeated, ‘Yes.’
The fire in the room was lit and fed.
Enthusiastic, Baines laid out the tools
while Gifford stood and contemplated flames.
Enthusiastic, Baines laid out the tools
while Gifford stood and contemplated flames.
‘Now, what shall we copy? Who has got a coin?’
We’d nothing between us higher than a shilling,
and Dutch at that.
and Dutch at that.
‘You don’t have something English?’
Baines asked. His eyes most pointedly on me.
I part supposed – misreading his intent –
he meant whatever coinage we produced
might go to Stanley’s English regiment.
And sewn inside the lining of my coat:
a dozen English coins. But something said,
Just shake your head. They’re for emergencies.
he meant whatever coinage we produced
might go to Stanley’s English regiment.
And sewn inside the lining of my coat:
a dozen English coins. But something said,
Just shake your head. They’re for emergencies.
‘No matter,’ said Baines, ‘press on.’
The mould was made.
My mouth gave out instructions, word for word
almost as Poole had given them, my mind
well used to memorising sentences.
Gifford was rattling in his skin. His hand
shook like a beggar’s cup. More ale, more ale
to still it. I drank too. Baines stayed as dry
as a heath in summer, cracking tiny smiles
whenever I looked to him.
almost as Poole had given them, my mind
well used to memorising sentences.
Gifford was rattling in his skin. His hand
shook like a beggar’s cup. More ale, more ale
to still it. I drank too. Baines stayed as dry
as a heath in summer, cracking tiny smiles
whenever I looked to him.
‘Please, can you help?’
Gifford addressed me. Steadier of hand,
I poured the liquid metal into moulds.
We waited and drank some more.
I poured the liquid metal into moulds.
We waited and drank some more.
And, ‘There. It’s done!’
One coin is uttered; an imperfect fake,
and yet the birth of it, miraculous.
and yet the birth of it, miraculous.
‘Bravo!’ I say. Gifford hides his surprise
in a slow, professional nod. He’s passed the test.
in a slow, professional nod. He’s passed the test.
‘The method seems sound,’ says Baines. ‘Though I’ve seen Poole’s
and they were sharper.’
and they were sharper.’
‘With a little practice,’
says Gifford, ‘I would do better.’
‘Would you, now?’
Baines rubs his chin. He contemplates the shilling
by the hungry fire.
by the hungry fire.
‘Except I would not coin,’
Gifford says, hastily. ‘Not as a rule.’
‘Because?’ says Baines.
‘Because?’ says Baines.
‘It is a capital crime!’
He starts to pack away the crucible,
the evidence.
the evidence.
‘Well, let us celebrate
your show of skill in any case.’ Baines pulls
from his trunk a bottle of liquor.
from his trunk a bottle of liquor.
‘From the monks
at a certain bolthole in the heart of France.’
Two logs on the fire. By the time they have collapsed
into their embers, breathing dragon bones,
Gifford is snoring heavily in a chair.
The liquor’s warming. Baines is tight and quiet,
turning the shilling over in his palm.
into their embers, breathing dragon bones,
Gifford is snoring heavily in a chair.
The liquor’s warming. Baines is tight and quiet,
turning the shilling over in his palm.
‘More of this would be useful.’
I agree.
‘And do you figure this act is treasonous?’
I couch my answer in philosophy.
‘All men are equal under God,’ I say.
‘Beneath God’s gaze, I’ve as much right to coin
as the Queen of England.’
‘All men are equal under God,’ I say.
‘Beneath God’s gaze, I’ve as much right to coin
as the Queen of England.’
Something slips apart
in the fire; provokes a brief, unruly flame.
‘Sir William Stanley, whom you wish to meet,
would like to have this knowledge you possess.
Poole’s knowledge. And he’d pay the goldsmith, too,
past his objections. I could take you there.’
‘Sir William Stanley, whom you wish to meet,
would like to have this knowledge you possess.
Poole’s knowledge. And he’d pay the goldsmith, too,
past his objections. I could take you there.’
I said I would be happy to be taken.
His hand slid to my knee.
His hand slid to my knee.
I took a breath
and told him it was time I went to bed.
The liquor knocked me out, but how long for
I couldn’t tell. What woke me was the cold
of Baines’s bony body in my bed,
rubbing against me. I pretended sleep
and lay as unresponsive as the Fates
as he wheezed and grunted. Praying silent prayers
that all my duties for the Queen would not
include forced penetration. By the dawn
he’d satisfied himself, or given up.
And more than once I’ve wondered, had I let
the bugger in, if I would be here now.
I couldn’t tell. What woke me was the cold
of Baines’s bony body in my bed,
rubbing against me. I pretended sleep
and lay as unresponsive as the Fates
as he wheezed and grunted. Praying silent prayers
that all my duties for the Queen would not
include forced penetration. By the dawn
he’d satisfied himself, or given up.
And more than once I’ve wondered, had I let
the bugger in, if I would be here now.
Baines, in the morning, like a change of sheets,
betrayed no inkling of the night before.
As if his memory were wiped by drink,
he gave out nothing, even in his eyes.
betrayed no inkling of the night before.
As if his memory were wiped by drink,
he gave out nothing, even in his eyes.
‘Stanley is outside Flushing. You will need
your passports.’
your passports.’
‘Mine is on me,’ Gifford said.
‘You’re sure he will pay me just to see this coin?’
Baines was packing clothes for travelling.
‘For your trouble, yes. And confirming how it’s done.’
‘My passport’s with Governor Sidney,’ I replied.
Baines tied his bag up smartly. ‘Yes, of course.
You came in by the port. To the governor’s, then.
We’ll call in on the way.’
Baines was packing clothes for travelling.
‘For your trouble, yes. And confirming how it’s done.’
‘My passport’s with Governor Sidney,’ I replied.
Baines tied his bag up smartly. ‘Yes, of course.
You came in by the port. To the governor’s, then.
We’ll call in on the way.’
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