Perfect Shadows Part 13

The angry tapping sound of her heels was audible for some time before the figure of the Queen became visible in the dancing shadows of Whitehall's Privy Gallery. I slipped out of my concealment and waited for her, watching the intermittent glitter of her jeweled gown as she moved through the pools of light scattered the length of the gallery. I dropped to one knee before her, and she clouted me lightly over the ear before grasping my hair to tug me to my feet.

"I pray you be brief, my lord, since you will be secret," she snapped. "I have set the entire court to playing hide-and-go-seek, like a pack of children, and it will not be long before some b.o.o.by finds his way here. They think that my brain is going soft," she added, a sour smile quirking the corner of her mouth. She reached for my hand, dropping the ring I had sent her back into my palm. I watched my knuckles whiten as I held it tightly for a moment before returning it to my finger. She nodded occasionally as I spoke and then dismissed me with the promise that the matter would be seen to. I melted back into the shadows as muttering voices signaled the approach of others, and stifled a gasp as the Queen chose to join me in my concealment.

"It may not be too late," Percy's harsh tenor voice was unmistakable. "Her Majesty must take such an accusation seriously, even if the girl herself is missing. We must say that he has spirited her away, and killed her."

"And then if she is found? Old Bess may be fast slipping into her dotage, but her brain has not yet completely gone to mush. This is finished and I'll have no more of it; I have in mind something quite different for our night-crow," Ess.e.x retorted, and I, hoping that the movement would not be noticed, caught the enraged Elizabeth to my chest, clamping her arms to her sides and tightly covering her mouth with my own to keep her from crying out. She struggled furiously for a moment before relaxing into my kiss. When the gallery had been quiet for a few minutes I released her, dropping again to my knee as she stepped back from me, then reeling with the blow that she cracked across my face. I raised one hand to my cheek, forestalling a second blow with the other.

"Majesty, wait!" My voice was hoa.r.s.e with emotion. She glared at the hand gripping her wrist, crumpling the starched ruff into a limp ruin. I loosened my hold, and she stood over me, the unspoken question of why she should not call her guards plain on her face. "Majesty, it came to me that they could kill you then, and blame me, and who would disbelieve them?" My voice shook with the force of the vision that had overwhelmed me the moment that Elizabeth had begun to step from the arras. Her eyes flashed for a moment, then softened.

"It was my lord of Northumberland, then, that imprisoned you last summer? No, you need not reply, I see the answer plainly enough in your face. But you do wrong my lord Ess.e.x, cousin. My person, old and bent as it is, is safe with him; he will not harm me, whatever he thinks of my wits. I forgive you your rough care of me, for I see plainly that it was care, and your impertinence has already been punished. Your fears for your safety seem well grounded, cousin, and I agree that your plan is a good one. The letters you ask will be delivered to your house in Chelsey tomorrow. My lord," she continued in a tone so quiet that even I was hard put to hear, "why did you kiss me when you could have kept me still another way?"

"I wanted to," I answered, not sure if the surprise in my voice was due to the rare vulnerability she showed by her question, or to the unexpected truth of my answer.

"Go now, before I discover a reason to take you back behind the arras," she spluttered, and as she turned to go, I saw the unmistakable glint of a tear on her painted cheek.

My head full of my plans, I was unprepared for the tumult that greeted me when I reached home. Sylvie and Eden held each other, weeping, at the foot of the stairs; I could hear Richard sobbing above, and the low murmur of someone attempting to comfort him. I started up the stairs, but Sylvana called me back.

"What was done to yon child I know not, my lord, but he will not endure the presence of a young woman, not even his own sister. She went to bring him a bit of broth, and he . . . he attacked her. She's not hurt, just her feelings," Sylvana added, and looked down at her square and capable hands for a moment, clenched into fists, then raised her eyes to me again. I nodded and went wordlessly up the stairs. I recognized the soft voice before I reached the little room at the far end of the pa.s.sage. Hal sat on the edge of the bed, rocking the boy as if he were a child. He turned at the sound of my steps and sent an ironical smile over his shoulder. He gently disengaged Richard's clutching hands, and stood to face the door. I slowly crossed to the bed, holding out my hand and sitting on Richard's other side.

"I will go and see to the wench," Hal said, and slipped away. At his words Richard's tears broke out again, and he buried his face in his hands. I let him cry for a moment.

"Eden is not much harmed, Richard," I said gently. "She is frightened, and hurt that you do not want her. She does not know what they did to you. She does not know about the ceremonies that were practiced in that place." Richard raised his eyes to look at me, shame and anger mingled with fear on his face.

"That is where Eve died," he whispered. "Tied down in that-that place-as I was, like some animal. I thought that I would die there, too, and I would not have cared, only, not like that. Not like that!"

"Like what, Richard?" My voice was just sharp enough to jerk an answer out of the boy.

"He told me, about the . . . what they were to summon that night. It wanted v-v-virgins, and they had thought that Eve was. She was not and instead of-of-it devoured her, and took hours to do it, while they huddled in the darkness, waiting for it to finish, and hoping that it did not think to look for them." Richard's eyes, enormous in his thin face, glinted madly in the candlelight. "He told me, told me not to let-her-take me, because then it would be me. They gave me water, but it tasted foul, and I was having dreams, dreams that made me, my manhood-hard, hard enough to hurt. Then she came, I could smell her in the dark, fouled and filthy and I tried to beg, to beg her not to, but I was gagged, and I knew that he had told her that she would be my death, but she only laughed, and she- with her mouth, made me hard, and then she-she mounted me, and clawed at the burned places, laughing when I tried to scream, kissing me with her mouth, her vile, filthy mouth-" he broke off, racked by tearing sobs, letting me fold him into a protecting embrace.

"How did you come by those burns, Richard?" I asked.

"The earl. He questioned me. About you." I waited, and before long I had the whole tale of the accusations they had meant to make against me. It was well I was leaving, I thought. I soothed the boy, telling him not to worry, and he rested his head on my shoulder, the sobs becoming softer and more infrequent until they became no more than an occasional shudder.

I waited patiently for the weeping to subside and nodded for Jehan, waiting at the door, to bring the tray that he carried to the bed and leave it there. Richard, at my urging, tried to take a few mouthfuls of the bread sopped in broth, but the sight of it revolted him, and his hands were shaking so that he could not fill the spoon. I took the bowl from him, and, gently pushing him back to rest against the pillows, fed him, talking all the while of inconsequential things. He looked surprised to see that the bowl I returned to the tray was empty. He took the small cup offered him and managed to sip the brandy it contained without spilling it.

"My lord of Southampton was very kind," Richard muttered, fighting against the sleep that was overwhelming him. "I thought that I hated him."

"Sleep, Richard. I shall send Jehan or Rhys to sit with you. Now, sleep," I repeated, gratified to see the boy's eyelids droop, then caught the cup that fell from the slack fingers.

Hal was standing by the fire, fondling the reliquary on the mantel, just as he had been those few short weeks before, the night that he had first become my lover. He turned and smiled before kneeling to draw the poker from its resting place in the coals and plunge it into the waiting flagon. The scent of boiling wine, sweet with spice, filled the room as I settled into a chair by the fire. Hal drew the cushion from the other chair, tucking it under him as he sat leaning against my legs and staring at the fire. He poured the wine into the waiting cups and pa.s.sed one up to me.

"It is arranged, then? Where will you go?"

"The letters will arrive tomorrow, and I think that I will go first to Blackavar. I must consult with Nicolas and Geofri, then I will go . . . I don't know, somewhere obscure, until Richard is fit to travel abroad. After that, oh, Paris, probably, or Brittany. I should not be out of reach of London for a few weeks yet. I must make some arrangements about the women, though. Richard will want to be away from them for some time to come, I am afraid." I saw the question that Hal refused to ask, and told him the entire ugly story, omitting nothing.

"Do you think that Robin knew what use Harry meant to make of the boy?" Hal asked, and spat into the fire.

"I doubt it. I doubt it very much indeed. Percy can be very discreet when his skin is on the line, and Ess.e.x has no stomach for murder, so I deem. Richard said that you had been kind to him," I finished, my hand resting on the auburn curls spilled across my knee.

"I felt that I owed him that, at least, seeing as how it was my arrogance that sent him from the house and into that coil in the first place."

I slid from the chair to join him on the floor. "And he's ruined your shirt," I said, reaching for the tear-stained silk, smiling as Hal caught my hand, and raised it to his lips.

"You can buy me another."

I nodded. "Then I must be sure to have my money's worth," I said huskily, and ripped the fine silk from his body, smiling at the desire this act kindled in his eyes.

Chapter 19.

The wind howled and tore at the thatch, catching at the chimney pots, and hurling one to shatter on the cobbles of the paved yard. The storm had come up suddenly an hour or so before, sending its biting breath through every crack and cranny of the old house. Richard and I sat side by side on the high backed settle near the kitchen fire, poring over the large book we held between us. I soon closed the volume with a snort of disgust. "It is useless, Richard," I growled. "I cannot tell one letter from another. Perhaps I never shall." Richard flinched at the depth of the anger and the despair that I could not keep from my voice. It had been just over a month since his deliverance, but he still could scarcely endure the sight of a woman. We had come to this secluded manor as soon as he was well enough to travel, he and his brother, his cousin Jehan, and me, the vampire. Richard seemed to have lost the feelings of fear and disgust I had engendered in him such a short time before. They had been spent, perhaps, as payment due for his life.

"You, my lord, are what you are, and that is all," he had said. Now he gently took the book from my trembling hands and returned it to the sideboard.

"Perhaps," he began, but broke off at the sound of hooves ringing on the cobbles of the yard. I started for the door, but it burst open, bearing Southampton in on a wave of wind-driven snow. Hal looked about him wildly for a moment, then pitched face forward onto the floor. Richard managed, with no little struggle, to wrestle the heavy door shut, then turned to help. Hal lay at full length, his head resting in my lap. There was something odd about his appearance, more than the bruises on his face, or the ravages of the weather. His hair, dark and full as ever on the right side of his head, had been raggedly shorn on the left, leaving the scalp almost bare in several places.

"Brandy, Richard, and blankets," I said tersely, and Richard scurried to obey. Quickly we stripped the wet clothing from him, and I wrapped him in the soft dry wool. There were the marks of a terrible beating upon his body. When he began to stir I held the brandy to his lips, allowing only the smallest sip. He swallowed convulsively, then opened his eyes, gazing vaguely about for a moment before focusing on my worried face.

"I thought that I would die," he murmured. "The storm came up so quickly . . . should have listened to Cade. The knave said we should wait it out, and come on the morrow, but I would not hear of it. He's all too likely dead in a ditch somewhere now, if he hadn't the sense to turn back. G.o.d knows I didn't. I had to see you, Kit," his voice sank to a whisper. He took in the startled expression on Richard's face, and the look of concern on mine, then turned away, pulling his hand from the tangle of blankets to finger the stubbly places over his ear. His earlobe was torn, dried blood streaking his neck and throat, and staining the lace of his band. The pearl earring I had given him, and that he had worn ever since Twelfth Night, was missing.

"It was at court, in the Presence Chamber, that d.a.m.ned officious Willoughby, all puffed up with being her Majesty's Squire of the Body. As if he or any other man has ever seen her body! She's not that much of a fool, whatever others may think," Hal smiled at his coa.r.s.e joke and paused, searching for his place. "Yes, anyway, we were playing cards, Ralegh and I, and the rogue was winning handily; he had taken nearly all I had. We had just dealt, and my hand was perfect: I would win back all I had lost, and more. Then Willoughby, d.a.m.n his poxy soul, swept up to the table to inform us that play must cease, as her Majesty had retired for the night. I pointed out that as we were not playing with her Majesty her absence would not inconvenience us, but Willoughby demanded that play stop, and Sir Walter, having won all evening, rose, tossed his cards onto the table, collected his winnings and walked away with a smile.

"I told Willoughby what I thought of him, jumped up little cur that he is, and he threatened me. I slapped him soundly, told him where he could meet me honorably, and walked away. I never imagined that he would . . . he was waiting for me, he and some of his hangers-on, as I pa.s.sed the tennis court on my way to the waterstairs. I had only the one groom with me, and he was quickly overpowered. I would not run, could not have escaped them if I had, and would not give that cullion the satisfaction of playing hare to his hound! I lunged at him, felling him with one good blow to the eye, and then his minions overwhelmed me.

"Two of the largest held me, and Willoughby and the others, three or four of them, took their turns with me. When they had finished I was only halfway conscious. I remember falling to my knees when the two that held me walked away, and I felt a hand in my hair, pulling my head up. I could hear Willoughby, that silly braying laugh of his, and then I was being held again while he pulled savagely at my hair. I was let fall once more, and was only vaguely aware of Willoughby, the clicking of his Spanish heels against the pavement, walking away, when someone leant over me and there was a red-hot pain at my ear-" he broke off, shaking with stifled rage. I caught Richard's eye.

"He may have my bed, my lord, and I'll sleep on the truckle-bed, in case he needs anything." I nodded and gathered my exhausted lover into my arms, carrying the long length of him to the bed as if he were no more burden than a child, holding him as Richard made up the truckle-bed. I then went to the kitchen to wake Rhys and Jehan, and send them out to care for the earl's horse and to look for the earl's man. They returned just before dawn to say that Cade had turned up in the village, about a mile further on, having missed the lane that led to the farm. He was none the worse for it, to judge by the conversations they had overheard. I instructed Rhys to take a message to the inn as soon as he could, to say that the earl had made it to the farm in safety, then retired wearily to my own chamber, securely locking the door behind me and drawing the thick curtains that blocked any light that might find its way through c.h.i.n.ks in the heavy shutters.

I woke the next evening still dressed and lying crossways on the large bed. A quiet, but persistent knocking came from the door, and I stumbled to my feet and worked the key around in the old lock, stepping back to let Jehan, bearing a load of firing, past me. He quickly kindled a fire on the large hearth and disappeared back through the door, muttering about a bath. I stripped off my doublet and trousers, waiting in shirt and hose for Jehan to return. Hal came in while the bath was being filled and perched himself on the edge of the bed. His hair had been neatly trimmed around, far too short to be fashionable, but the ravages were unconcealable. He seemed unable to keep from reaching up and fingering the bare places on his scalp.

"I think that I know why you sleep the days, and stir only at night," he said softly, refusing to meet my startled gaze. Jehan set the water can down and turned to face us, waiting. Hal reached out his hand and drew a slender finger up my front, from my navel to my throat, then slipped his hand around to rest against my neck, just beneath my ear. "It's to keep this skin so perfectly white. I've never seen such pale skin on a man," he still refused to meet my gaze, as Jehan, tension draining from him, resumed his task filling the bath. "Am I . . . ugly to you, now?" It was no more than a whisper, and I felt his hand tremble beneath my hair. I firmly, but tenderly, mindful of the bruises, took my lover's face and turned it to mine.

"You are beautiful to me, Hal," I told him, and reinforced it with a gentle kiss. Jehan cleared his throat, and Hal laughed.

"I will await you downstairs," he said, and slipped from the room. I let Jehan shave me, and then settled into the bath to soak and to think. That had been a bad moment, thinking that Hal had discovered my true nature, and I could not help but wonder what we would have done if he had.

Nearly a week had been spent at Blackavar, discussing the recent events with Nicolas, Geoffrey being out of the country at the moment, while Richard recovered somewhat from his ordeal. It had seemed a long journey, and we had taken turns carrying the boy, shocked and semi-conscious, on the saddlebows. Dawn had streaked the sky when we arrived, and I was myself unconscious, overtaken by trance before the doors of the great hall had opened. Nicolas had been sitting on the edge of my bed when I awoke, to greet me, and then scold me for taking chances with the sun and the day-trance while I was yet young enough to be so vulnerable. Later that evening his pleasant features grew hard and cold as he listened to the tale that I told him.

"Where are Sylvana and the others?"

"I sent them to Ralegh, they will be safe at Durham House, and will return here once I have found a place to take the boy. Eden will try to see him if she is near, she cannot help it, and he cannot bear it." Nicolas nodded his approval and suggested a place, Blackthorne Farm, that was currently untenanted. It was a solid house, and much care had been lavished on its reconstruction, glazing all the windows and rebuilding the chimneys. But it was lonely, tucked away amid a tangled ma.s.s of elm, elder and the sloes that gave it its name. Local superst.i.tion named it an unchancy place, so that tenants were few and seldom stayed long, which suited its current use admirably. We would stay another few weeks, then join Geoffrey in Paris. I shook off my reverie and dressed quickly, joining Hal and Richard before the comfortable fire. The storm had blown itself out during the day, but the night was freezing cold.

"We had begun to think that you had drowned," Hal teased, keeping his head turned to hide his ragged hair. He and Richard had disposed of a platter of beef, most of a small cheese and two loaves of bread between them, and were working manfully on the second or possibly the third flagon of wine. Supplies were brought in daily from the village, no one at the farm having the least skill with cooking. The gold that paid for these services was much appreciated in the village, and did much to a.s.suage the local fears about the foreigners, as anyone from as far away as the next county was called, while the size of the two serving-men and the occasional sight of large wolfish dogs discouraged any thought among the less honest of taking all the gold at once. We pa.s.sed a pleasant evening, playing primero for pins, and talking until late. I sent Richard off to his bed, reminding him that he was still convalescent.

"It was kind of you, to let him win," I said, smiling when he had gone.

"I find that I like that child," Hal answered, "and the more so since I found that he is no rival to me in your bed. He is a child," he added defensively, goaded by my expression.

"He is not much younger than were you, when you first loved a man, and a good deal older than I," I retorted, then laughed. "In years, at any rate. Yes, though, he is still much more a child than I was. Or, I suspect, than were you. Now, you should seek your own bed."

"I would far rather seek yours!"

I drew a finger lightly across Hal's bruised cheek. "Would you? Come along, then."

There were no clean rushes available for the floor, so it had been strewn with sweet smelling straw that rustled faintly as we crossed to the bed. A fire burned brightly on the hearth, and the bed linen was scented with lavender. Shivering slightly in his shirt and hose, Hal slipped into the bed beside me. Later he sat up and stretched, turning his face away as he spoke.

"I am thinking of joining you in Paris, Kit, if I may, and if your brother would not object. There's nothing at court for me now." His tone was bleak, and I reached my hand to cup his chin and turn that sad proud face to my own. Hal resisted a moment, then gave in.

"I can think of nothing that would please me more, Hal. Weather permitting, we leave for Dover next week."

Chapter 20.

Hal settled into his own bed, in the room where Richard slept on the truckle, sinking at once into a pleasant dream, only to be jerked awake by a heart-wrenching cry.

"No, no! Please, NO-"

It was Richard, he realized, and reached for him. It was not long after dawn, by the look of the pale light through the c.h.i.n.ks in the shutters. Hal fell to his knees on the truckle, scooping the boy up, shaking him awake then holding him while he cried. Richard pushed himself violently away from the earl before he had regained his senses enough to realize who held him, then mumbled an apology.

"You were dreaming, d.i.c.kon," Hal said softly, the fond name coming easily to him. "I purposed nothing but comforting your fear. You are a very pretty boy, but I do not seduce children!" He rose from the truckle and crossed shivering to the door, calling for Jehan, who appeared almost at once and began helping the earl into his clothing.

"My lord, I-I am sorry, I was still caught in the dream," he shuddered, sickened at the memory, but stirred by the earl's touch. "I am not a child, my lord," he gulped, but Hal, dressed now, merely nodded and left the room. When Richard came down later he found him folding a note and addressing it.

"You must see that your master gets this when he wakes tonight, Richard," Hal said coolly, holding it out to him.

"My lord, I shall have to read it to him," Richard said, dismayed. Could the man know so little about one with whom he was so intimate? Hal stared at him for a second, then crumpled the paper into a hard ball and threw it into the fire.

"I had thought that only another one of Robin's calumnies," he muttered, adding aloud "I have seen him at his books."

"It sorely vexes him, and he must make himself believe that one day he shall read again, and so he tries. He cannot, as yet."

"Then you must tell him that I returned to London and will join him in Paris as soon as I may. Will you do that for me, Richard?" The boy nodded dumbly, and the earl gathered his riding cloak and strode from the room. Richard, from his position by the window, watched the man mount and ride towards the village, before turning his hand to the tasks he had set himself that day.

Hal paced nervously before Robin's fire, stopping now and again to fill his cup from the flagon of wine on the hearth. Willoughby had put the story all over court the next day that Southampton had attacked him and been soundly beaten, and that he had pulled out some of the earl's hair. It was said that her Majesty laughed, and said it was good, as she never liked the pretty earl, and liked even less his influence on Ess.e.x. Influence Robin! As well try to influence a wild horse, and she herself called him that. "G.o.d's Light, Hal," came a chuckle from the doorway. "You look like a felon!" Robin, still laughing, came in and settled himself by the fire, picking up the wine, and setting it down again when he found that only the dregs remained. "Just call for Dido to bring more wine, as you've seen fit to swill all this. Now, what did truly happen that night? You were a fool to a.s.sault Willoughby in that secret fashion, after publicly insulting him," Robin said in a voice purring with satisfaction. He had waited for some time to turn this epithet on Hal. "A fool," he repeated, savoring the word. Hal snorted.

"So I would have been, had I done so. I challenged him fairly, Rob, and he attacked me in the dark. I had but one man with me to his dozen. But I did not come here to cry my tale to you; I am going to Paris for a time, and I wished to say good-bye."

"Does Diabolus know?"

"I imagine he does: he has asked me to meet with him this afternoon. He would have to know, sooner or later, in any case, if I am to have any sort of position at all, and, of course, I shall need a pa.s.sport. Goodbye, Robin," Hal said, and strode to the door. He stopped to glance at Robin for a second over his shoulder, then crossed again to the fire when his friend petulantly called him back.

"You will desert me then. You will be of no use to me in Paris, Hal. I need you here." His eyes narrowed and his mobile lips curled into a sneer. "Oh, of course, I did hear that your precious black princeling is leaving the country, and I see that he needs must bring his little lap-dog with him," he spat, and stood, turning his back. Hal caught his shoulder and whirled him around.

"You dare to address me so? I have my spies at court as well, Rob, and I know just what you said, and how you joined in and laughed when Willoughby told his lies, and presented my hair as a trophy to the Queen. Look at me, Rob! Do I look as if he pulled my hair out in a brawl? Does my face look as if we were evenly matched? I grant you that I may be rash upon occasion, but have you ever known me to be that stupid? A laughingstock is of no use to you at court, and that is what I have become," he snarled, "a b.u.t.t for all to fire their barbs and jests against, without a single friend there to defend me." Ess.e.x stirred guiltily at that, but Hal raised his hand in a gesture of finality. "I must go, Robin, and I will."

"Yes, I know you must," Robin agreed, shamed by his friend's words. He pulled a folded bit of paper from his sleeve, pushing it into Hal's hands. "From Libby," he said, and turned his face away. Hal tucked it into his own sleeve, and stumbled from the house, giddy with the wine. He had all but forgotten Libby. d.a.m.n it all! He smoothed the paper against the wall as he waited for the groom to bring his horse. A fine rain was falling, and the letters faded into an inky blur before his eyes, but not before the message was read. She would wait for him in the Privy Gallery every afternoon until he came to her. It was dated five days ago, the day after his misadventure. He crumpled it into a sodden ball, and tossed it onto the midden as he pa.s.sed.

Cecil's rooms were austerely furnished, holding only his great worktable, one chair, two bookcases overflowing with books and bundled letters, a locking cabinet, and two stools, upon one of which Hal sat, although his rank should ent.i.tle him to the chair. Robert Cecil, Diabolus, as he was scornfully called behind his hunched back, sat and gazed at him across the table, his dark eyes as inexpressive as the wet paving stones outside the window. The door opened quietly behind him, and Hal fought the impulse to look and see who had entered. One of the aides came in and whispered to his master, waiting while Cecil considered the message. A smile flitted across that stern face, causing Hal, unexplainably, to shudder. "Have him join us," Cecil instructed the aide, who slipped from the room like a shadow.

"My lord, I understand your reasons for wishing to leave England for a time, indeed I am most anxious to accommodate you. But then you must, in return, accommodate me. I will expect reports from you upon the movements of the princes Geofri and Krytof, among other things." He glanced up as the door creaked open again, motioning the arrival to take the other stool. "My lord, this is my servant, Thomas Deacon; Thomas, my lord the Earl of Southampton." Deacon was in his late twenties, a few years older than the Earl, heavyset, but with long and beautiful hands. His face was unlined, showing a singular sweetness of expression in the regular features that made him seem far better looking than he was in fact. His light-brown hair was cropped shorter than Hal's own, and his clothing, though of fine cloth, was most sober and severe. He looked at Hal, at the ravaged hair, and his fingers twitched, as though he wished to stroke it. Hal shifted uncomfortably away from the newcomer. "Thomas does courier service between London and Paris for me, albeit he is currently serving me by serving as an a.s.sistant, an apprentice if you will, of Master Topcliffe, though perhaps, given his progress, journeyman would be amore fitting term." Deacon smiled innocently as Hal paled at the mention of the torturer. "Now my lord, back to our business. I think we understand each other. I shall look forward to your correspondence, which you may entrust to Deacon when you see him in Paris. That is all."

Hal rose numbly from the stool, his face flushed by the outrage boiling in him. He was an earl, not some common lout to be made a spy and a minion of! d.a.m.n Cecil's twisted soul, and d.a.m.n Robin too! There was an overt threat in Cecil's insistence on Deacon's presence, and the knowledge that he was employing his own torturer, but whether it was aimed at Prince Krytof, or at himself, or both, Hal was not certain. It was intolerable! The sooner he left the pesthole of court, the better off he would be, and bed.a.m.ned to them.

He settled the hood of the cloak closer about his face, making his way through the dusk to the gallery where Libby had said she would await him. His attendants left him at the gallery doors, and he slipped in, almost blind in the dimness. The curtains had been drawn, and the candles not yet lit. A lighter blob of shadow detached itself from the wall and hurled itself at him. He caught her in his arms, crushing her against him.

"Oh, Hal, I thought that you had done with me! And I love you so! I wanted to die," Libby sobbed into his chest. Her searching fingers found his rough cropped hair, and she pulled him to the window, thrusting the heavy curtain aside, to view him in the fading daylight. "Oh, Hal!" He turned his head, to hide the worst places from her, then kissed her, fiercely, urgently. His l.u.s.t, quiescent with her for weeks now, flooded him, and he shoved her to the floor, tearing at her skirts and at his own clothing, stifling her protests with his lips, plunging his tongue into her mouth as he plunged his body into hers, grimly, again and again, without respite, until he finally collapsed on top of her, pinning her to the floor beneath him. He could feel her shivering under him, taste the tears on her lips. He started to pull away from her, wondering what had possessed him, how he could explain to her what he could not explain to himself, but she caught him, pulling him close again. "No, Hal, no." He tried to find the words, and she hushed him, laying her slender fingers across his lips. "I know, my love. I know."

"I love you, Libby," he said. "Whatever I say or do, I do love you, and someday, G.o.d willing, I shall prove it."

Jehan and Rhys appeared at the quay promptly at dawn, supporting Krytof 's slumping body between them. He reeked of brandy and of wine, and Richard looked on in disgust. The seamen nudged each other and smirked as they made their way on board. The first mate stepped forward with a grin.

"Well, where d'you want him?" Jehan growled. He found this pretense distasteful, an affront to the dignity of his master, and thus to his own, but the ruse was tried and true, giving the vampire a perfect excuse for staying below decks. No one expected a man in a drunken stupor to be up and roaming about. "Gentry! Drinkin' and whorin' all night, and most likely puking all day," he grumbled, as the first mate showed them to the tiny cabin they would occupy on the crossing.

"Aye, drunk as a lord! Well, and wouldn't we all be if we had the c.h.i.n.ks," the mate laughed, and left them.

"It's not you who'll be cleanin' up after him!" Jehan snapped, and watched the retreating man's back shake with laughter. They cast off not long after. Jehan, denied his wolf 's shape for the voyage, and no kind of a sailor in either form, gritted his teeth and settled in to wait out the journey.

Chapter 21.