The Tudor Secret Part 17

"By 'another woman,'" I said, "I a.s.sume you mean the Lady Mary."

"Of course. Any change in the succession would require the sanction of Parliament. I doubt our proud duke has gone so far as to request official approval of his treason. So, by law, and Henry the Eighth's will of succession, Lady Mary is our rightful queen."

I paused, deliberating. "But the council has agreed to uphold Jane as queen? Northumberland doesn't act alone?" I was thinking of the d.u.c.h.ess, of her threats to bring down the Dudleys. If she raised protest against this usurpation of her her rights, it could buy both princesses the time they needed. rights, it could buy both princesses the time they needed.

Again I received his unblinking stare. "What exactly do you ask, squire?"

"Nothing. I just want to clarify the situation." I watched him fold his hands at his chin. Deprived of his caresses, Urian lay down on the floor with a dejected sigh.

"The council members would agree to anything to save their skins," continued Walsingham. "The duke has badgered them into submission with threats that he has enough ammunition in the Tower to crush any revolt in Mary's name. He's also garrisoned the surrounding castles. Still, our sources indicate not a few of his so-called a.s.sociates would as quickly see him hang as give him further rein over England. He's made more enemies than is safe for any man. He may also soon face significant opposition from the Lady Mary herself."

It was the longest speech I had heard from him, and it held a few unexpected surprises.

"Significant?" I said carefully. "I understood her Catholicism and doubtful legitimacy made her anything but."

"It would be wiser not to discredit her quite yet."

"I see. What is it you want of me?"

"The duke has not yet officially announced Edward's death; however, with Jane Grey in the Tower awaiting coronation, it can't be long in coming. Mary has let it be known she's at her manor of Hoddesdon, from where she continues to issue demands for information. We suspect someone at court has warned her to stay away. She has no resources to draw upon, however, and few will risk themselves for a princess whose own father and brother declared her a b.a.s.t.a.r.d and whose faith is at odds with their own. There is the possibility she'll flee the country, but we think it more likely she'll head for the northern border and her Catholic n.o.ble strongholds."

As if it were the most ordinary circ.u.mstance between us, Walsingham withdrew an envelope from his sleeve. "We want you to deliver this."

I didn't take it. "I a.s.sume that isn't a safe conduct to Spain."

"Its contents," he replied, "are of no concern to you."

I stood. "I beg to differ. Its contents could be my death, judging from past events. I'm as loyal as the next man, but even I have my limits. I need to know what it says before I agree to anything. And if you are not authorized to tell me," I added pointedly, "I suggest you tell Cecil to come here instead."

He deliberated for a moment. "Very well." He gave me a slight incline of his head. "It's from a few select lords on the council, an explanation of their predicament, if you will. It offers Mary their support, should she choose to fight for her throne. They would prefer she not abandon England, an absent queen being even less desirable than an illegal one."

"Hedging our bets, are we? She must have become quite significant, indeed."

"Accept the job or decline. It makes no difference to me. I can hire a dozen couriers."

Cecil was behind this, naturally; he had seen the way the matter could go. I had no illusions as to whether he wanted the duke's daughter-in-law or the Catholic heir on the throne, and so I took my time, smiling and patting my knee, enticing Urian to my side.

Walsingham's black eyes turned stony.

After enough time had elapsed to establish I was no longer his for the taking, I said, "Since our last engagement, my rate has gone up."

It pleased me to note that he visibly relished the introduction of money. It put us squarely in his terrain, where everything was open to negotiation. He removed a leather pouch from his doublet. "We are willing to double your fee, half in advance. If you do not deliver the letter or if Mary is captured, you forfeit the second half. Would you like me to put it in writing?"

I took the pouch and the letter. "That won't be necessary. I can always take care of any misunderstandings when I next see Cecil." I walked to the door and paused. "Anything else?"

He stared at me. "Yes. As you may know, time is of the essence. You must get to her before the duke's men. We also don't think it's wise for you to use your real name. You are now Daniel Beecham, son of Lincolnshire gentry. The persona is real enough; Cecil patronized the family before its demise. Daniel's mother died in childbed, his father died in Scotland. The boy himself was under Cecil's care until his own death years ago. Your beard should help with the disguise, so don't shave it. Master Beecham would be two years older than you if he were alive."

"So, I'm finally a dead man. My enemies will be pleased."

"It's for your protection," he said humorlessly.

I smiled. "Yes, I've been told how protective you are. I heard about your ill-timed venture to the stables while I was otherwise engaged, and of your aborted intervention on the leads. I can't help but wonder about the time before, when I was trapped in the monk's cell. It was you who found my jerkin by the lake, wasn't it? You dropped it at the entrance to alert Peregrine and Barnaby. A rather pa.s.sive attempt, but I suppose I shouldn't complain." I reached for the door latch, resisting the jab in my shoulder. "Am I free to go?"

"In a minute." Walsingham's eyes flicked to Urian, who stood attentively by me. "Henry Dudley didn't fire the shot that hit you."

I didn't move.

"The steward Master Shelton held the pistol. I saw him take aim from the window. I thought you should know. He is, I believe, someone you trust?"

"Not anymore," I said, and I strode out.

In the hall, a scullery girl emptied the hearth of cinders. With a shy smile she indicated the way to the garden, which I found enclosed by walls and windswept with the scent of lavender.

Kate was doing as she said-hanging sheets on a line to dry. I crept up behind her, wrapped my arms about her waist. "Did you scrub them yourself?" I breathed in her ear. With a gasp, she let a pillowcase fly from her hand. Urian barked in delight, jumping up to seize it in midair. He trotted off with his trophy, tail held high.

Kate turned on me. "I'll have you know Holland cloth doesn't come cheap. Unless you indeed plan on getting rich, we've a household to economize for."

"I'll buy you a hundred pillowcases in Egyptian silk, if you like." I pressed the pouch in her hand. As she felt its weight, her eyes widened. She searched my face. Before she could voice the question that hung between us, I pulled her to me.

In my arms, she whispered, "When?"

I replied softly, "As soon as I can let go of you."

That night, as I finished packing my saddlebag for the trip, a knock came at my door. I suspected before I went to answer it who it was; neither Kate nor Peregrine would have requested admittance, and Walsingham would never climb stairs to see a hireling.

She stood in the pa.s.sageway, cloaked head to toe in black velvet. Kate paused on the landing of the staircase behind her, a flickering candle in hand. As she met my eyes, I nodded. She turned away, but not before I saw her troubled expression.

I stepped aside. As Elizabeth moved into the room, I felt again that magnetic lure she seemed to exude like a scent. She pulled down her hood; it crumpled in soft waves about her long throat. She wore no jewelry, her fiery hair caught in a braided net. There were, I noticed, dark circles about her expressive eyes, as if she had spent a sleepless night.

I bowed low. "Your Grace, this is an unexpected honor."

She nodded absently, looking about. "So, this is where you recovered? I trust you were well cared for." There was no hidden emphasis in her tone, no indication she had any idea of my involvement with Kate. I decided it would be better to leave it that way, at least for now. Kate would tell Elizabeth in her own time.

"Yes, very well cared for," I replied. "I believe I owe you my grat.i.tude."

"You do?" One of her thin eyebrows arched.

"Yes. This is your house, is it not?"

She flicked her hand dismissively. "That's hardly reason for grat.i.tude. It's but a house, after all. I have several, most of which stand empty." She paused. Her eyes met mine. "Rather, it is I, Master Prescott, who should be giving you thanks. What you did for me at Greenwich... I will never forget it."

"You had to know the truth. I understand that."

"Yes, apparently you do. Better than most." She smiled tremulously. It felt strange to be alone in this room with her, where I sweated out my feverish delirium, learned the terrible final fate of Mistress Alice, and discovered my love for Kate. I had forgotten how powerful a presence Elizabeth could be, how unique she was to her own environment. She did not seem to belong in this rustic room, her very essence too large for such a confined s.p.a.ce. It did not escape me that she had also put herself at considerable risk to come here.

As if she read my thoughts, she said, "Do not worry, Cecil knows I am here. I insisted, and so he sent some men to escort me. They are downstairs, waiting. They'll take me back to Hatfield tomorrow." Her lips curled in disdain. "It seems henceforth I must get used to having these men about me at all times when away from my manor at Hatfield, at least until they bring Northumberland down."

There it was-spoken out loud, at long last.

"Is that what Cecil plans?" I said quietly.

She gave me a curious look. "Of course. Why else would they be sending you to my sister Mary? If she flees the country, she'll leave England wide open to the duke. Who knows what would happen to any of us, then? They'd rather a Catholic spinster took the throne than a Dudley. My poor sister." She let out a tart laugh. "Mary has always been either feared or disdained. Her lot is never easy. And now she faces the fight of her life. If the duke's henchmen get to her first..."

"They won't." I stepped to her. "I will not let them."

She regarded me in silence. Up close, I saw again the amber flecks in her irises that had so mesmerized me that first night, at the water gate of Whitehall; I recognized once more the dormant power lurking in the depths of her regard, which I now understood very few were capable of resisting. I had been ready to throw myself at her feet that night, to do almost anything to ensure her favor. I found it interesting that while I still felt the pull of her, I no longer was enslaved by it. I preferred it this way: I preferred being able to look the princess in the eye and recognize our shared humanity.

"Yes," she murmured, "I believe you will do just that. Cecil is right: You'll do anything to keep the Dudleys from winning. But, you do have a choice. You've paid your dues, as far as I am concerned. Even if you decided not to go on this errand, you'll have a place in my service."

I inclined my head with a smile, made myself take a small step back.

"What?" she said. "Does the choice not please? You did ask this of me once, at Whitehall, if I recall correctly: You said you wanted to serve me. Has Cecil made you a better offer, perhaps?"

"Not at all." I raised my gaze to her. "I am honored and grateful. But, that is not why Your Grace has come all this way. You already know I will serve you, no matter what."

She went still. Then she said, "Am I so obvious, then?"

"Only to those who care to look." I felt a hollow open inside me, as I considered everything she was, everything she stood for, and everything she might lose if she ever gave in to her own conflicted heart-that magnificent heart, which had propelled her to me tonight despite the peril to her own person.

"I... I do not want him harmed," she said, haltingly. "Robert is not to blame... He did as he was bade, and he-he did try to warn me. I've known him since we were children and there is much good in him. It's only that, like so many of us born to this world, he has never been taught the value of truth. But he is not unredeemable. Even he can atone for his sins."

I let the silence between us absorb her confession. I would not denigrate it with my own opinions nor commit it to a promise we both knew I might not be able to keep.

She bit her lower lip; her fingers, so startling in their unadorned length, plucked at her gown. Then she said abruptly, "You will take care of yourself, for Kate's sake?"

I nodded. So she did know. We shared this, too, in common.

She turned to the door, where she paused, her hand on the latch. "Be careful with Mary," she said. "I love my sister, but she is not a trusting woman. Life has made her that way. She has always believed the worst of people, never the best. Some say it is the Spaniard in her. But I say it is our father."

I met her eyes as she looked over her shoulder. "You will take Kate with you?" I said. "I want her safe, or as safe as we can be under the circ.u.mstances."

"You have my word." She pulled open the door. "Guard yourself against dragons, Brendan Prescott," she added, and I heard a hint of wry mirth in her voice, "And whatever you do, steer clear of water. It obviously is not your element."

I stood listening to her footsteps fade down the stairs. I knew I would not see her in the morning, for I must leave before dawn. But in the emptiness left by her departure, I finally understood why Robert Dudley would have betrayed his own family for her love.

Given the opportunity, Elizabeth just might do the same for him.

Chapter Twenty-three.

"When did you say she'd arrive?" said Peregrine for what had to be the hundredth time.

"I didn't." I suppressed my own impatience as I peered through the ragged opening in the bushes, where I crouched with a crick in my back and my legs numb below the knee. The star-spattered sky displayed a sickle moon. A breeze rustled the woods behind us, where we'd tethered and muzzled the horses.

"She left her manor sometime yesterday. Seeing as she didn't head to London, as she'd have been arrested by now, we can only hope she took this road. But she could be anywhere."

At my side, smothered in a heavy blue wool cloak that matched the one he'd brought me, Peregrine scowled. "Bite off my head. I was only asking. If I'd known you'd be such a grouse, I'd have gone to Hatfield with Mistress Stafford and Urian."

I forced out a chuckle. "Sorry. Camping in a trench at the side of a road isn't my idea of fun, either. I'd rather be with Kate and Urian, as well."

"I should think so. I saw how you looked at her. You love her, don't you?"

The discordant blend of envy and longing in his voice gave me pause. He had been nothing if not resourceful, not to mention tenacious.

I now knew that while we'd crept into Edward's chamber, Peregrine had slunk past several manned guards in order to reach the stables, where he then avoided the night watch to saddle, bridle, and lead three somnambulant horses, and a dog, out to the gate. There he had waited, feeding the beasts tidbits of those crabapples he seemed to grow in his pockets, keeping them quiet until Elizabeth, Kate, and Barnaby arrived. According to Kate, when they heard the pistol and saw the duke's retainers racing out, Barnaby had to haul Peregrine onto Cinnabar. As soon as they reached the house, the boy demanded they turn back to search for me. He would have gone then and there, were it not for fear the duke had sent troops after them. As it was, Peregrine did not stop pacing the room where they hid. When Mistress Ashley and the men sent by Cecil arrived to spirit the princess away, he had exclaimed with relief that now he could go find me.

This same unwavering devotion had prompted his refusal to let me undertake my latest mission without him. He'd cited, not unreasonably, that as I had a penchant for tripping into disaster, it would be best if I had a friend. I had made the mistake, however, of treating him as he wanted me to, forgetting he was still a lad. Now, as I saw the trepidation in his eyes, I said, "Yes, I love her. But you will always have a place with us. I promise you."

Peregrine kneaded his cloak. "You do?"

"I do." I reached over to rustle his hair when I heard the rumble coming toward us.

We froze. I unsheathed my new dagger, having entrusted the sword to Kate rather than risk losing it again. Peregrine pulled out his knife.

The clangor of iron-shod hooves striking the road turned to muted thunder. I whispered, "Remember, we don't show ourselves until we know for certain it's her. The duke could have sent out a hundred decoys to flush out her supporters."

His eyes were wide. It sounded as if an infantry were upon us, yet when I looked out, I saw only a small company of hors.e.m.e.n, their lathered mounts flinging up clumps of dirt. Dark cloaks billowed about the riders. They had no torches, but as they galloped past, the leader glanced at the bushes where we lurked. Under his unadorned black cap, I recognized him.

My heart leapt into my throat. I half expected him to yell a halt and turn on us. When the contingent continued down the road, I sagged onto my haunches. "That was Lord Robert."

Peregrine stared. "The Lord Robert?" Lord Robert?"

"The same." I sprang to my feet. "Come!"

We raced to the woods. Cinnabar and Peregrine's mount (which had the odd name of Deacon) snorted as we leapt onto the saddles and yanked them about. "We'll ride parallel with the road," I said. "Hopefully we can find a quicker route."

The night was lifting. Though still a few hours away, dawn approached. Cantering at the forest edge, using the trees as camouflage, evading or jumping fallen trunks that could snap a horse's leg, I was grateful for the scarce moon. I couldn't see very far ahead, which was unfortunate, but it also meant Lord Robert and his men might not see us. I knew that if we were spotted we'd be hard pressed to make an escape.

How had Robert caught the scent so fast? We had expected the duke to send him after Mary, but her manor was miles from here. Somehow Robert had discovered she was on her way north and had determined to run her to ground, employing the same ruthless purpose he'd shown in pursuit of Elizabeth. Only this time he carried a warrant, not a ring.

Peregrine broke into my thoughts. "They're stopping."

I slowed Cinnabar, straining my eyes to a fork in the road. "Go farther," I said, "and wait there. If something should happen, don't be a hero. Ride back to Hatfield. I mean it."

I picked my way toward the group. Cinnabar had a light step, but even that couldn't stop the occasional crack of twigs underfoot or jiggle of harness. At every sound, no matter how subtle, I cringed. I'd hunted with the Dudleys in our youth, before the cruelty of the sport turned my stomach. I had seen the delight Robert took in tracking prey. How much more would he enjoy hunting the squire who had betrayed his trust?

But no one heard me, probably because they were too engrossed in their own vociferous debate. Sliding from my saddle, I continued on foot, drawing close enough to overhear but not so close that I wouldn't have a fighting chance if I were seen.

I counted nine; among the clash of voices Robert's was the loudest.