Face Down Before Rebel Hooves Part 15

Chapter 30.

The arrival of the earl of Westmorland's troops strained Boroughbridge to the breaking point. There were men billeted in every corner and more in the open countryside beyond the town. It did not take Nick long to realize that the only place no one dared make camp was in the shadow of what locals called the Devil's Arrows, four ancient monuments built to commemorate some long-forgotten pagan deity.

It seemed logical to him that Susanna Appleton would fix on this as their meeting place. He had seen her during the confusion of the earl's arrival and knew she'd spotted him, but there had been no opportunity to get close to her. At dusk, he left Toby behind and went forth alone. He'd waited close to an hour before he caught sight of a solitary female form gliding past the first standing stone.

A brief moment of joy was followed by a stab of disappointment. All delight departed when he realized it was Jennet who'd come to meet him, not Susanna. The moon was nearly at the full, but the sky was overcast. Wet snowflakes had fallen earlier in the day. Still, he had enough light to see that Jennet was not happy.

"Where have you been?" she demanded as soon as she reached his side. "I looked for you days ago."

"Where is Susanna? Why is she not with you?"

They glared at each other. Stubborn woman. Would she refuse to answer his question until he'd responded to hers? Aye, she would. Rather than waste more time, he drew her into the shadow of the monument.

"I was all set to call myself James Leastways, gentleman of Lincolnshire, and claim to have lived for the last ten years in London. The gentry flocking to the rebel cause should have accepted me and my manservant without question, but the first person I encountered in the rebel camp was Dr. Grant of York. I had the misfortune to meet him when I first arrived in that city, at the house of a fellow merchant. He knew me at once and, further, remembering that we had talked of remedies used in Muscovy and Persia, insisted upon keeping me with him. Thinking I would have a better opportunity to enter the inner circle of the earls and their countesses in his company, I agreed, but when the two earls separated their troops, Dr. Grant accompanied Westmorland. I had no choice but to go with him."

Jennet looked as if she did not believe a word of it. Nick's jaw tightened. If Susanna needed explanations and apologies, he'd make them to her. "Where is she, Jennet?"

"With the countess. It is her turn to attend Lady Northumberland."

"No one suspects she is not Lady Pendennis?"

A moment's hesitation told him Jennet was not as sure of that as she'd like to be. "It appears not, in spite of what happened here this morning." She gave the surrounding area a look of extreme distaste. "Someone shot at her with an arrow. Came near to hitting her, too."

"An arrow?" Incredulous, he gaped at her.

"Shot from behind this very stone. We stood there." She pointed to the next field.

"Did you see the archer?"

"Only a glimpse. A figure in a cloak. It could have been a man or a woman." She gave a short, ironic bark of laughter. "All the gentlewomen practice with arrows."

"Dragon water." In growing alarm, Nick listened to Jennet summarize two earlier incidents.

"I do not believe either was an accident," she said when she'd finished her account, "but Lady Appleton is not convinced."

Nick swore creatively in three languages. "We must get her out of here."

"She'll not leave, not until she has proof the queen of Scots has been hand in glove with the countess of Westmorland from the beginning."

"What proof?"

"A letter in Lady Westmorland's possession. She also feels responsible for Lady Northumberland's care. The countess has been ailing."

"Perhaps she will welcome Dr. Grant's help," Nick mused.

He took heart from one part of Jennet's report. The inspiration for many, early on, had been the countess of Northumberland. She'd ridden up and down the ranks, encouraging the soldiers. The countess of Westmorland's exhortations, on the other hand, had begun to grate on her followers. Many had become disaffected in recent days. Nick had done his best to add to the discontent, even starting a rumor about an outbreak of the sweating sickness among Northumberland's men.

"Lady Appleton wants to know if it could have been the earl of Westmorland's seal on the second order sent to Master Dartnall."

"No." Nick had a clear memory of Dartnall in his cups, muttering 'thumberland's seal. But Jennet's question provoked others. How long had pa.s.sed between the first order bearing Northumberland's seal and the second? Had the letters been in code? In the same handwriting? He'd never thought to ask any of those things.

"Lady Westmorland blamed Lady Appleton, that is to say, Lady Pendennis, for her brother's arrest. If it is possible Sir Walter had time to send word to England of the plot, causing the duke of Norfolk's arrest, then Lady Westmorland might have heard of it in time to order Dartnall to kill Lady Pendennis for betraying them."

Nick felt his brow furrow in concentration as he searched his memory. He was good at recalling numbers and dates were numbers. "Dartnall told me he left Augsburg a week after Lady Pendennis's accident. That must mean she was killed around the middle of September. All English ports were temporarily closed on the 22nd and the militia put on alert, although I do not believe the duke was detained until the end of the month. The uprising, from what I have heard, was originally to begin on October 6th but on the 1st Norfolk ordered Westmorland to call off their plans."

"So, Lady Westmorland could not be the culprit. Lady Pendennis was already dead by the time the duke was arrested. The countess could scarce have given the order afterward to have Lady Pendennis killed." Jennet sounded discouraged.

Nick did not blame her. Eliminating one suspect did not move them ahead. There were too many remaining.

"Do you think Sir Walter could have killed his wife?"

Nick gaped at her, unable to believe he'd heard correctly.

Seeing him so taken aback, Jennet brightened. "If Lady Pendennis meant to do what Sir Walter asked Lady Appleton to pretend to do, act as a courier for the rebels, it is possible he found out about it and stopped her himself, then made up the story he told Lady Appleton."

Betray her country? Her husband? Yes, that might have provoked a man like Pendennis to murder. And if he had killed his wife, then it also made sense that he'd be certain Susanna would be safe with the rebels, as long as she was not revealed as an imposter. The more Nick thought about it, the more appealing he found the idea of his rival as cold-blooded killer. He had no doubt that Pendennis was fully capable of sending Dartnall a false, coded message, ordering him to do the deed and putting the blame on Northumberland.

"You think it possible, too." Jennet's sharp eyes had tracked his every emotion.

"It is possible," he agreed, "but if no one among the rebels ordered Lady Pendennis's death, why does someone keep trying to kill Susanna?" If Jennet's account was accurate, Susanna had come close to death three times since joining the countess's household. Much as Nick might like to blacken Pendennis's name, he could not blame those attempts on him. "The idea of two separate killers at work, both bent on killing the woman who calls herself Eleanor Pendennis, stretches the bounds of credulity."

"Sir Walter is no fool, and he knows Lady Appleton well. If he suspects she's guessed what he's done, if he did do it, then he knows she will not rest until she has brought him to justice for his crime."

Long after he and Jennet parted company, Nick was haunted by her words. If Jennet had the right of it, Susanna's good friend Sir Walter Pendennis could also be her most dangerous enemy.

Chapter 31.

Keswick November 22, 1569 "There." Fulke pointed down into a valley nestled between the hills, his lugubrious expression giving way, for an instant, to a flicker of relief. Catherine followed the direction of his finger. The sight would have been a joy to behold in another season but now everything seemed pa.s.sing damp and drear. Still, it was good to have arrived at last. She had sent Fulke ahead while she and Lionel tarried in Penrith, acquiring the clothing Sir Walter insisted she have. A great waste of time, Catherine suspected, but Sir Walter had more experience than she in this business of ferreting out information. She had decided she'd best follow his instructions. For the nonce.

From Penrith she'd also dispatched a messenger, paying him the exorbitant fee of four pounds to take her letter to her husband in London and return with Gilbert's reply.

In high summer, carriers regularly plied the road from Barnard Castle to the copper mines at Keswick. Even with the delay, Catherine had arrived within a week of leaving Sir Walter. "I am told Keswick was naught but a small, impoverished market town before the German miners came," she remarked to Fulke as they began their descent to the village.

He nodded. "I had not time to learn much, madam, except that here German is spoken as often as English. Everyone's livelihood depends upon Haug and Company."

Fulke Rowley was a good listener. That was his value. He talked more to her, Catherine knew, than to any other person on earth. When she'd been a girl, he'd been a groom of the stable at Leigh Abbey. He had taught her most of what she knew about horses.

"Did you hear any talk of the uprising?"

"Folk here are more concerned about renegade Scots than rebel earls."

The following day, Catherine put on her best n.o.blewoman airs and paid a visit to Haug and Company. She presented herself as an English-born Scot with money to invest and dropped the earl of Northumberland's name.

Once she'd convinced the company's representative, Master Loner, that she was a vapid, uneducated Englishwoman with more money than she needed and too much time on her hands, he willingly displayed entries in various journals and account books. Anxious to make a good impression, he a.s.sumed she would not understand what she saw. He was right. Most of the records were written in a beautiful, legible hand . . . in German. Fortunately numbers did not need translation, and proper names were easy to pick out.

Catherine found little of interest on the double-page sheets marked Rechnung Weyhennachten, the Christmas term's reckoning to date. Likewise, much of a summary of the previous months dealt with supplies purchased and ore mined. Loner called her attention to expenses for the building of a men's bath above the smelthouse and the purchase of a watchdog, collar, and chain.

Dealings with a number of prominent Englishmen and women had also been recorded. There were rents paid to a Lady Radcliffe-kin to the earl of Suss.e.x? she wondered. There were notations concerning Cuthbert Musgrave, last year's sheriff, and Simon Musgrave, who had just taken over the post. She also saw that, since the beginning of the year, the earl of Northumberland had been paid for 1,200 seam of charcoal. The purchase appeared to be legitimate, even though only 444 seam had so far been delivered. Another entry revealed that Northumberland's forester had felled 360 oaks in the Vorwold and a number of birches in the Bradelaw to fulfill part of the bargain.

This was not sufficient income to fund an uprising. If it had been Dartnall's plan to funnel money to the earl through the copper mines, he'd apparently failed to put the scheme into effect. Or else he had devised some means to hide the transaction. A list of travel expenses on a separate page caught Catherine's eye. The dates were very recent, and the stops for the night followed a route from London to Keswick-St. Albans, Northampton, Derby, Buxton, Haslingden, Lancaster, Furness Abbey.

"A messenger?" she asked.

"Our messengers travel faster than that," Loner protested. Then he flushed, realizing he'd revealed more than he'd intended.

Catherine smiled and delayed asking the question she most wanted answered. "Do you use more than one regular courier?"

"We use two men, John Grave and Robin Fletcher."

"English?"

He nodded.

"Haug and Company is most forward-looking to employ native Englishmen. My dear friend the earl speaks of another, a Master Dartnall, most warmly."

"Master Dartnall was here in Keswick not long ago." Apparently deciding Catherine was harmless, Loner chuckled and flipped over the page she'd been looking at. "See. Here is the proof of it." Entered in a concise and readable hand were entries for the first part of his journey, indicating it had cost him two pounds one and six for his pa.s.sage from Antwerp to Calais and as much again to reach Dover. Then he'd had to pay customs sixteen shillings and another sixteen had gone to rent a horse for the trip from Dover to Gravesend, where he'd boarded a tilt boat for the rest of the journey into London.

"Where is Master Dartnall now?" she asked. "I would like to talk to him before I make the final decision about investing in Haug and Company's mines."

"I do not have a precise itinerary, but his intent was to visit investors here in the North."

"He chose a poor time if he meant to go into Yorkshire." Her heart beat faster as her concern for Susanna increased. Walter had a.s.sured her his men would catch Dartnall before he could get near the rebels, but Walter was not infallible and neither were his agents.

"He went to Westmorland."

Catherine graced the German with her most charming smile. "Do you, perhaps, recall a name?"

"Cholmeley! Sir Roger Cholmeley! But there were others he meant to visit, too, and I do not know when he will be back, nor what route he followed. It would be futile to go after him."

"Perhaps Master Dartnall will return before I must leave Keswick," Catherine suggested. Would Walter want her to wait for him or go on to Gillingham Place? "I wonder," she mused aloud, "if you know whether Master Dartnall meant to visit a Lady Gillingham?"

Loner beamed. "He intends to go there after his trip to Westmorland, Lady Glenelg. I remember now. But he will come here again first."

With no more ado, Catherine made her decision. She would remain in Keswick until Lucius Dartnall returned. What she did after that would depend upon him.

Chapter 32.

Lady Northumberland's desire to keep one of her gentlewomen safe cost Susanna much of her freedom. For four days after the incident at Boroughbridge, she insisted Susanna ride at her side and sleep in her chamber, reasoning that no one would make another attempt when she was close at hand. Lady Northumberland did not, however, make any effort to discover who had shot that arrow and soon she was distracted by her own troubles. The rebels were plagued by delays, desertions, and disappointments. The support they'd expected from abroad had not materialized at Hartlepool.

Susanna's plans to search Lady Westmorland's possessions were likewise thwarted. Equally frustrating was her inability to speak privately with Nick, even though she saw him every day. Nick and his friend the doctor were welcomed by Lady Northumberland, who still suffered from periodic headaches, but Susanna had no chance to talk to him about anything other than herbs and cures.

By the time they entered Tadcaster, the rebel army had begun to shrink. When Susanna looked back, she still saw men streaming out behind them like the tail of a comet, but where once eighty gentlemen of substance had ridden there, commanding at the least 7000 soldiers, 1200 of them mounted, now there were no more than a few hundred followers.

First the earl of Suss.e.x had promised a free pardon to everyone who returned to his home and stayed there. Then rumors had spread that 12,000 of the queen's men were on their way north. Word that Alnwick, Warkworth, and Newcastle had fallen to those loyal to Elizabeth had further sapped morale.

The rebels' last hope of success faded when an advance troop, which had crossed the Ouse and gone as far as Selby, brought word back to Tadcaster that Queen Mary's jailers had removed her to a more secure prison farther south.

Early the next morning, Susanna and Jennet hurried through the predawn darkness toward the meeting she'd at last been able to arrange with Nick. Overnight, the weather had deteriorated. During the march south they had been blessed, for the most part, by bright sun and clear, moonlit nights. Now a damp chill penetrated her cloak and shards of snow stung her face.

Just as they pa.s.sed the stable, Margaret Heron emerged from its shadowed interior. She was leading a horse and all her possessions were bundled up behind the saddle. She exchanged a startled look with Susanna but did not speak. They both continued on.

Tadcaster's bridge was a fine one, with eight stone arches. Nick and Toby sheltered beneath it holding four horses. Susanna checked as she recognized Turmeric. "Do you mean to abduct me?" she asked.

"I have missed you, mitgeselle."

"And I have missed you, Nick. But I cannot go with you. Not now."

"The rebellion is collapsing. Come away with me. Let me keep you safe."

"I still have reason to stay." Although Lady Westmorland's behavior had been increasingly erratic and volatile, Susanna did not think she'd destroyed any letters. Not yet. She reached out with gloved fingers to touch the side of Nick's face. "My honor demands I see this through, both Walter's a.s.signment and the matter of murder."

For a moment, Nick looked as if he might clout her on the chin and carry her off unconscious. He kissed her instead. "How can I help?"

"Go to Walter. Take word that he must go at once to Wressel, southeast of York. Northumberland's daughters are there. The rebels will march north, but they mean to make that one detour first. They'll be vulnerable there."

A part of her writhed at betraying the countess. Lady Northumberland had, after her own fashion, been good to Susanna. But the only alternative was to let traitors escape. If the earls were not stopped, they would regroup abroad to plot more treason. There would be no peace in England until they had been captured and imprisoned, and their wives with them.

"Go, Nick," she whispered. In spite of the swirling snow, the day grew brighter with every pa.s.sing moment. "I will be safe enough here. I have Jennet." She managed a brave smile.

He did not accept her decision without argument, but in the end she prevailed. "I have other information the queen's men should have," he admitted. "And if I leave now, I can return the sooner."

He turned over Turmeric's reins and mounted his own horse. For a moment, Susanna was reminded of all the old stories she'd heard in which the fair lady offered her departing knight a stirrup cup. She shook her head to dispel the image.

"It is best this way," she murmured as the two men rode across the bridge. "I could not live with myself if he were taken for a rebel and killed."

Jennet snorted. "'Twould have been best to go with him, but there's naught to be done about it now."

They took Turmeric and the horse Nick had brought for Jennet back to the stable, then returned to Lady Northumberland's chamber. They found her engaged in a bitter quarrel with the countess of Westmorland.

"I have four children of my own," Lady Westmorland declared, "but I'd not forfeit our last chance of success just to fetch them. Your daughters are safe enough where they are. Send for them anon."

"I'll not risk their safety, not now when all turn against us. If the duke of Alba failed us, how can we count on anyone?"