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there was a slight tremor in her voice as if she had become unstrung by her own image.
    ‘Anyway, Sir Toby has always stuck to the old religion. Too old to change his ways. Not that his faith is all that great. He judges all priests canting hypocrites, whatever their belief. He liked them better when he couldn’t understand their words, that’s what he says, and he’d rather pay the fines than go to church. That was as far as it went, until a few years ago when Sir Andrew turned up, keen to patch up the quarrel they’d had. I’ve never seen such a change in a man. He used to scoff at churchgoers, him and Toby both. Now he sees it as his mission to return England to the old religion. He came to Sir Toby saying one of his nephews was a Jesuit, expected from France, and could Sir Toby hide him? I counselled against it, not on the grounds of faith, but on the grounds of madness. Sir Toby wouldn’t listen. Helping a friend, he said, although I daresay money changed hands. Sir Andrew never lacked a penny. Sir Toby’s come to the aid of a fair few nephews , hiding them in the cellars, helping with their passage by way of the smugglers’ tunnels that stretch down to the river.’
    ‘Is that what he wanted today? For Sir Toby to help him hide somebody?’
    ‘No,’ Maria shook her head. ‘Toby’s long past helping anybody. He wanted to know if we’d heard any news of you and Feste.’
    ‘What are we to him?’
    ‘I don’t know, but that’s not the only thing.’ Maria twisted her hands in her lap. ‘He brought greetings. From one Malvolio.’
    ‘Oh.’ Violetta’s heart gave an uncomfortable lurch.
    ‘My lady’s old steward. I hadn’t heard that name in a long while. Not until you came here. His fortunes have changed too, so you tell me. Why do the wicked prosper, while my poor Toby . . .’ Maria shook her head. ‘It’s a mystery to me. Sir Andrew got no sense out of him – you’ve seen how he is – but that just enraged him. He fell to threatening, refusing to find a priest to shrive him. Toby is this far from death –’ her fingers measured less than an inch – ‘and he wants a priest to hear his confession. In this town they are as rare as hen’s teeth. Sir Andrew is his only hope of finding one in time. He knows he holds power over us, and he enjoys it.’
    ‘He threatened you too?’ Violetta was stricken. Maria had troubles enough. She did not want to bring more to the poor woman’s door. ‘How does he know we are here?’
    ‘I don’t think he does for certain.’ Maria frowned. ‘Not from what he said, but how many Illyrians are there in London? And you are kin to Sir Toby. Sir Andrew was never known for his brains, but even he could reason that you are likely to fetch up here.’
    ‘Perhaps we should leave.’ Violetta looked at Maria. ‘Then you would not have to lie to him, and Sir Andrew will find a priest for Sir Toby when . . . when the time comes for that.’
    ‘What will you do?’ Maria took Violetta’s hands in hers. ‘Where will you go? No. I have offered you my hospitality. I wish it were better, but my home is your home for as long as you stay here. We’ll make shift when it comes to it.’ She laughed, but there was little mirth in it. ‘There’s always Sir Topas. I worry for you .’ Her grip tightened. ‘Not for us. Did you see Master Shakespeare? Did you speak to him?’
    ‘We met him,’ Violetta said.
    ‘And? Did you tell him your story?’
    ‘Part of it,’ Violetta answered. ‘But there was another man in the inn, overhearing, and then Master Shakespeare had to leave.’
    ‘Will he help you, do you think?’
    ‘We didn’t get as far as asking.’ Violetta looked away from the hope and enquiry in Maria’s face. Sometimes her plan seemed barren, even to her. ‘But what if he denies me? What will I do?’
    ‘We’ll just have to convince him.’ Maria squeezed Violetta’s hands, trying to comfort her and allay her fears, just as she used to do all