I was awoken before dawn by a banging on the door of my bedchamber.

‘Mr Pepys? Mr Pepys?’ It took me a moment to recognise the voice, which seemed to be coming from a dream.

‘Mary? What is it?’

‘You must come, sir. Men are here for you.’

I rose and wrapped myself in the fine new indienne I had bought from Unthank’s on the Strand at Christmas. Elisabeth began to stir.

‘What is it?’

‘Business, I think.’ I tried to look out of the window but the panes were too frozen for me to see anything. ‘By Christ, it is cold.’

‘Mr Pepys…’

‘God’s breath Mary, I am coming.’

Elisabeth yawned and closed her eyes again. ‘You had better see what she wants.’

I pulled on my slippers and opened the door. The ashen look on her face stopped me dead. She was terrified.

‘Who is it?’

‘King’s men, sir.’

My expression changed. ‘Oh God.’

In near darkness, we hurried down the stairs, Mary doing her best not to snuff the candle that was our only light. Two men, dressed in the king’s livery, were standing in the open doorway.

They were rigid and unsmiling.

‘Samuel Pepys?’ said the larger of the two guards, who wore the uniform of a captain.

I stood tall. ‘Yes. What business have you here?’

‘You are to come with us.’

I hesitated uneasily. Was this to do with Inigo Wrath? Was I suspected of something?

Be calm. Their swords are sheathed.

‘Am I under arrest?’

The man frowned. ‘No sir.’

‘Then you will permit me to dress.’

‘Our orders are to bring you now, sir.’

‘Whose orders? The king’s?’

The second man spoke. ‘If you do not come now, we are under instruction to make you.’

My throat was dry. I turned to Mary.

‘Girl, fetch me a pair of boots. Quickly.’ The captain began to object but I found my voice. ‘Would you have me freeze my toes as well as my balls?’

Mary returned with a pair of stout leather boots and helped me to put them on. I was heartened to see that she had also thought

to bring me a cloak.

‘Sir?’ Mary was on the verge of tears.

‘Be not afeared, child. When she wakes, tell Elisabeth—’

I did not have time to finish my sentence. The shorter of the two men grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me outside. The frozen air enveloped me like a cloud, forcing the breath from my lungs. Before I had recovered myself, I was already being marched up Seething Lane.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

‘You’ll find out,’ replied the captain.

The first fingers of dawn were beginning to appear over the houses. The great spire of St. Olave’s, alive with birdsong, was outlined against a cobalt sky. When my eyes adjusted to the light I could see that two pikemen were stationed outside the door of the abandoned house opposite.

The house I had witnessed the two strange gentlemen enter the night before last.

The captain nodded a greeting to his comrades as we approached, marching straight through the open door and into the shadows within. Fresh candles had been lit in the rusting wall sconces, revealing by their dim light a hallway strewn with dust and debris. Plaster was falling away from the wall and the whole place stank of rat piss. I covered my mouth and coughed.

The captain whispered in my ear and, to my surprise, a note of sympathy had entered his voice. ‘You think it’s bad up here, Mr Pepys, wait ‘til you get downstairs.’

We went through to a deserted parlour, where I saw a pile of blankets in one corner – evidence, perhaps, that someone had been camping here. Then we entered the kitchen, at the far end of which was another pikeman. He held up a lantern for the captain to take, and as he did so, I could see that he was standing guard at the top of a staircase.

The cellar.

I stopped, staring with apprehension into the shadowy opening that led into the bowels of this unquiet place.

‘Come on,’ said the captain, taking a deep breath. It was then that I realised there was something afoot here that had shaken even his military bearing.

‘What’s down there?’ I asked.

His voice was grim. ‘You’ll see.’

The captain took my arm and guided me onto the steps. He walked behind me, the click of his heavy boots echoing in the silence. Flames danced against the walls, casting long shadows like spectres in the night.

‘Ah, Pepys. You’re here.’

I recognised the Yorkshireman’s voice at once, and felt something like relief.

‘Mr Marshall?’

Secretary Marshall stepped out of the shadows as we reached the bottom of the steps. He held a lantern in one hand and a walking stick in the other.

‘Thank you, Tanner,’ he told the captain, then turned to me. His business-like manner felt reassuring for a moment, as if all that were happening was that we had met to discuss his monthly accounts. ‘I am sorry to rouse you from your bed at such an hour, but I am afraid I have need of your help.’

‘What has happened?’

Marshall’s tongue snaked around his tight mouth. ‘I think you must see for yourself.’

I swallowed hard. ‘Lead the way.’

He held my gaze for a moment, the flame from his lantern reflected in his grey eyes. Then, with a slight incline of his head, he indicated that we should proceed further into the cellar.

I followed him into the darkness…