He alluded—patently enough to Raleigh’s perceptives, for the deed had been notorious—to the great Captain’s formal execution, in the course of his famous expedition of three years earlier, of Thomas Doughty, his lieutenant and once-admired comrade.
Raleigh, lolling back, protested, with a little amused chuckle: ‘Not murdered.’
‘A scholar and a gentleman,’ cried the young man, ‘and he had loved Drake like a brother.’
‘As Jacob loved Esau—and schemed to out-wit him.’ He sat up with a laugh. ‘Where is thy dithyrambic patriot—thy dear fantastic glib-gabbit?’
‘Clerivault?’
‘Ay, that was his name. Lives and declaims he still?’
‘He’s there, Master Walter. Seest him not—talking with thy servant Nic Wright?’
‘Whistle him over. I would fain hear his verdict on the deed.’
Brion called to Clerivault, who attended on his summons, and came and stood before the two.
‘Master Clerivault,’ said the visitor, ‘was that Doughty you wot of well served by his Captain or ill?’