The Tudor Secret Part 8

"Not so fast. What else do you know? Best tell me now. I hate surprises."

"Nothing. I swear it on my mother's soul, may she rest in peace, whoever she was."

Whoever she was...

I paused. I should order him back to Whitehall, back to his life of anonymity and opportunism. It would be safer than whatever awaited here.

But I knew I wouldn't. I saw myself in him, the child I had been. He deserved a chance. I just hoped neither of us would have reason to regret it.

"I expect you to earn your keep," I said. "And to obey me in all things, no matter what."

He sketched a clumsy bow. "Say no more, master. I'll do anything you require."

I couldn't contain my smile. "And don't call me that. My name will suit fine."

Peregrine's smile was so fulsome it warmed my heart. It was certainly an odd way to go about making a friend, but a friend I had made, nevertheless.

Chapter Thirteen.

It turned out that my new friend was also extraordinarily well versed on the layout of Greenwich, having been here on several occasions and in various capacities, including as a scullion. He'd ridden transport barges with animals from London, brought the creatures to their various owners, and was thus able to answer most of my questions concerning the palace, including the fact that Greenwich, like most abodes beautified by the Tudors, had been built upon the remnants of an older medieval edifice. I asked about the Secret Lodgings and how we might access them.

"The privy gentlemen watch over those rooms," Peregrine explained as we entered an inner ward. "They're charged with guarding the gallery to the royal chamber and preventing anyone from intruding. Of course, they can be bribed, but it's risky. A privy gentleman who betrays the king's trust can lose his post, and his head, if His Majesty gets mad enough."

"Do you know any of Edward's privy gentlemen?"

"You do. Your master Lord Robert is one of them."

"I mean, one we can trust."

He considered. "There's Barnaby Fitzpatrick. He's the King's childhood friend. Sometimes he'd accompany Edward to the stables. He never said much, just stood and watched Edward like a bull. I don't know if he's here, though. I heard that most of Edward's attendants were banished after he fell ill. Something about exposing His Majesty to contagion, though he looked well enough to me until the duke got hold of him."

"Peregrine, you're a veritable mine of information." I donned my cap. "If you ever do choose to betray me, I won't stand a chance."

He gave me a sour look. "Do you want me to look for Barnaby? He might know a way to get into the Secret Lodgings, if that's what you're after."

I glanced over my shoulder. As I did, I realized scouting the vicinity was becoming second nature to me. "Keep your voice down. Yes, he might be useful. Look for him but don't tell him anything. I don't know where I'll be, but..."

"I'll find you. I've done it before. Greenwich is not that big."

I nodded. "Good luck, then. Whatever you do, please do stay out of trouble."

Clad in his stable clothes, having discarded the groom's coat, Peregrine dashed across the ward and up a staircase. With a whispered prayer for his safety, I went the opposite way, into the wing that housed the n.o.bility. I'd decided to leave my saddlebag hidden in the straw near Cinnabar, where no one could steal it without getting their guts kicked in. My horse was tolerant but hardly amenable to searches in his stall by strangers. I'd removed only my dagger, which I kept in my boot, and so I moved easily, without visible burden.

The corridors were quiet. I faced a pa.s.sage lined with identical doors, some shut, others ajar, all indistinguishable. I should have asked Robert exactly which room was his, I thought, as I began trying latches and peeking into chambers. They were similar in layout, containing a leather or faded cloth curtain separating a small front room from a much smaller bedchamber, some of which had primitive privies. As in Whitehall, the walls were uniformly whitewashed, the wood floors unadorned. What few furnishings the rooms had-a stool or bench, table, battered bed or pallet on rickety legs-were strictly utilitarian. Not luxurious by court standards, but at least they appeared free of fleas, rodents, and the ubiquitous smelly rushes.

It took a few tries before I located Robert's room at the far end, recognizable because of his saddlebags tossed beside a leather coffer brought from Whitehall. His mud-spattered riding cloak was flung across a chair, as if he'd discarded it in a hurry.

He was gone, presumably to report to his father. I debated what to do next. Perhaps I could take advantage of this spare time to search his saddlebags for clues.

I froze in my tracks. There were footsteps coming. Bolting past the curtain into the bedchamber, with my breath lodged in my chest, I crouched down and put my eye to a frayed moth hole in the worn fabric.

I waited. A cloaked figure appeared in the doorway. For a paralyzing second I feared my shadow had found me. I forced myself to look, relief overwhelming me when I realized that despite the hooded cloak and scuffed boots, this person was shorter than me, smaller in build. Unless Peregrine had made a mistake, it couldn't be our mystery man.

The figure glanced about the room. Then it withdrew a folded parchment from within its cloak and set it on the table, shifting the pewter candlesticks so as to make it plain to whomever entered. It didn't linger after that, leaving as quickly as it had appeared.

I counted to ten under my breath before I slipped forth. The parchment was fine, of an obvious expensive grain. But it was the seal which captured my attention: That filigreed wax E encircled by vine tendrils could belong to no one else. I had to stop myself from tearing it open. There could be something in it I needed to know, something that would affect the course of my mission. But I couldn't just break the seal on a letter from the princess intended for Robert. Not unless...

I scratched the edge of the seal with my fingernail. It was still tacky, easily lifted. With my heart hammering in my ears, I unfolded the parchment. Two brief lines were inscribed there in an aristocratic hand, followed by an unmistakable initial.

My lord, it seems there is a matter of some urgency we must discuss. If it suits your discretion, pray reply in kind by the established route, and we shall meet tonight, after the stroke of twelve, in the pavilion. E I stood, breathless. I almost failed to hear the staccato footsteps marching down the pa.s.sage outside, until they were suddenly at the door, sending me diving once more into hiding.

This time, Robert strode in, still in his riding gear, his features contorted. "Why must I always be the one to do his dirty work?" He yanked off his gauntlets, flung them aside.

Behind him, poised and immaculate, was his mother, Lady Dudley.

My throat tightened, even as my fingers quickly resealed the note. She clicked the door shut. "Robert, stop this. You're not a boy anymore. I'll not countenance a tantrum. Your father can request obedience, but I demand it."

"You have it! You've always had it. I even wed that stupid Robsart wench because you and Father thought it best. Everything you've ever asked of me, I've done."

"No one said you weren't an exemplary son."

He laughed harshly. "Excuse me if I beg to differ. In my experience, exemplary sons aren't sent off on fool's errands."

"It is not a fool's errand." There was something eerie about the bland inflection in her tone. "On the contrary, what we ask implies significant trust in your abilities."

"What ability? To ride off at a moment's notice to arrest some old maid, which any idiot with half an escort could do? It's not as if she'll put up a fight. I'll wager she has no more than a dozen retainers with her, if that."

"Indeed." I was relieved to hear Lady Dudley's voice revert to its familiar cold severity. "And yet that same old maid could be our undoing." Her eyes fixed on him. "Mary has demanded a full accounting of her brother the king's condition. Otherwise, she threatens to take matters into her own hands. I need not tell you that this can only mean she's receiving information from someone here at court."

"No doubt. She's not stupid. And there are still enough papists about to wish her well."

"Yes," she replied, "and the last thing we need is for one of those papists to help her flee the country so she can throw herself on her cousin the emperor's mercy. Mary must be captured and silenced, and you're the only one we dare send. None of your brothers has your training. You've ridden in battle; you know how to command men to your will. The soldiers will not question your orders when it comes time to take her."

I clenched my teeth. They were talking about Princess Mary, the king's older sister. I recalled what Cecil had said about her, about her staunch Catholicism and how she threatened the duke. I leaned closer to the curtain, slipping the missive into my jerkin. It did not escape me that I was, at this very moment, indulging in the very rite of pa.s.sage of the court Cecil had mentioned, for the second time. Only if I were caught, I could forget getting out of here alive.

"I understand all that." As Robert raked a hand through his tangled hair, he resembled an uncertain youth, caught between his own compulsive desires and the iron will of his parents. "I know how much we stand to lose. But Father and I had agreed that for now Mary posed no immediate threat. She has no army, no n.o.bles willing to support her, and no money. She might suspect but she's not in a position to do anything about it. Elizabeth, on the other hand, is here, in Greenwich. She's a survivor, above all else. I know she'll recognize the advantages of our proposition. Once we have her agreement, there'll be more than enough time to hunt down her meddlesome sister."

I did not move a muscle. I barely drew breath as I awaited Lady Dudley's response.

"My son," she said, and there was a subtle waver in her voice, as if she sought to repress an emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. "Your father doesn't confide in me these days. But I know he faces tremendous odds. He has overseen this realm since Lord Protector Seymour went to the scaffold and hasn't gained in popularity because of it. If he was seen as the Lord Protector's right hand before, now he's seen as the hand that struck his master's head off. Though I agree that your proposal is sound, we still must contend with both the Suffolks and the council. They are only asking questions, for now. But soon they will demand answers."

"Once we have Elizabeth, we can answer them. That's what I tried to tell Father, but he wouldn't listen. She is the key to everything. She'll get us whatever we require."

"You're impatient," she rebuked. "Without council approval, you cannot hope to have your marriage to Amy Robsart annulled. And until you're free of her, you cannot hope for anything more than a friendship with Elizabeth Tudor."

Robert's face drained of color. "Father promised," he said in a fierce whisper. "He promised me that neither the Suffolks nor the council would stand in our way. He said the annulment wouldn't be an issue, that he'd force them to sign it at sword point if need be."

"Circ.u.mstances change." She sighed. "Your father can't force further concessions at this juncture. There's too much at stake. Elizabeth should never have come to London. By doing so, she's put our feet to the flames. If she takes it into her head to pet.i.tion the council to see her brother, or, G.o.d forbid, demand it of us in public..." She paused, the unspoken consequences of this calamitous possibility hovering between them.

Then she said, "Your father needs time, Robert. If he's decided it's best to not approach her yet, you must trust in his judgment. He never does anything without a purpose."

As she spoke, I saw her eyes lift a fraction, past Robert to the curtain. My blood froze in my veins when I spied the coiled malice in her gaze. It made me think of how she'd looked when she'd brought me before the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk, and I knew in that instant she was lying, right through her teeth. She misled her own son.

"He hasn't forsaken you," she continued, softly now. "He simply thinks it wiser to attend to Mary first. After all, who can predict what she'll do? You say she has no money or support, but someone at court is obviously feeding her information, and the Spanish amba.s.sador has money, if she needs it. The situation is too precarious. She must be disposed of, before she does us some irreparable damage."

My belly knotted. Why was she mixing lies with truth? Why would she want Robert sent away from here, from Elizabeth? What could she possibly hope to gain from having her most capable son, the one with an intimate link to the princess, gone at a time of peril for the family?

Robert was staring at his mother as if he'd never seen her before. It was clear that he too sensed the betrayal but was at a loss as to how to decipher it. His hesitation cut like a blade between them before he let out a derisive chuckle.

"The only damage Mary can do is to make an a.s.s of herself. She should have been married off years ago-to a Lutheran who'd beat some sense into that obstinate Catholic head of hers."

"Be that as it may," countered Lady Dudley, "you must admit she does represent a hindrance. She's free to roam the countryside and rouse sympathy. The rabble loves a lost cause. I for one would sleep easier knowing she's in the Tower. A day or two of hard riding, a few hours of unpleasantness, and it will be done. Then you can return to court and Elizabeth. Surely, she won't spoil in the meantime."

I observed the conflicting emotions on Robert's face as his mother spoke and wasn't surprised when at length he nodded, albeit in poor humor, and muttered, "Of course not. She's stubborn as a mule, that one, just like her sister. She'll stay put until all her questions are satisfied. I suppose that if I must see Mary to prison in order to get that idiot council to heed reason, then I will. I'll bring her in chains to London."

Lady Dudley inclined her head. "I am relieved to hear it. I will go tell your father. He's deliberating with Lord Arundel. They'll want to send trustworthy men with you, naturally. Once the preparations are done, you'll be informed. Why not rest till then? You look tired." The hand she set on his cheek should have invoked tenderness. It did not.

"You are our most gifted child," she murmured. "Patience. Your time will come."

Then she turned and, with a swish of skirts, departed the room.

As soon as the door shut Robert grabbed one of the candlesticks and flung it against the wall. Plaster sprayed. In the ensuing silence, his panting was like a cornered beast's.

Fighting back the sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, I pa.s.sed a hand quickly through my hair, ruffling it, undid my jerkin laces, and emerged blinking from behind the curtain. He whirled about. "You! You were here? You... you heard?"

"Given the situation," I said, "I thought it best if I remained out of sight, my lord."

His eyes narrowed. "f.u.c.k you, you eavesdropping dog."

I dropped my gaze. "Forgive me but I was so tired. All that free wine last night, the ride here... I fell asleep on my lord's bed. I beg your forgiveness. It won't happen again."

He eyed me. Then he strode to me and struck me hard, across the face. I rocked back on my heels. He stared at me for a long moment. Then he said tersely, "Asleep, were you? You'd best learn to hold your wine then. Or drink less." He paused again.

I held my breath, my face smarting. It was a plausible excuse, if not a very convincing one, but it did save him embarra.s.sment, and he might just be arrogant enough to a.s.sume I'd barely understood what had been said. After all, he'd never rated my intelligence highly, and I'd never expressed an ambition beyond serving his family. But there was the possibility that if he decided I posed a liability, he would kill me. I could only pray he actually saw me as a dog that would never turn on the hand that fed it.

To my relief, Robert kicked the candlestick aside and stalked to the table. "To the devil with my father. Just when I had matters in hand. I'm beginning to think he deliberately wants to thwart me. First he sends me off to the Tower on some stupid errand while he invites her to court, and now, once again, he's found a reason to delay his promise."

I made a sympathetic sound, trying to piece together what I'd learned.

First of all, the much-vaunted Dudley familial unity appeared to be crumbling. Lady Dudley had said her husband no longer confided in her, though she'd always been his mainstay, the iron behind his silk. Whatever plans the duke had in store for Elizabeth now excluded Robert, despite the repeated mention of a promise made to him. I could hazard a guess as to what this promise had entailed.

Moreover, Lady Dudley had mentioned the Suffolks, the new in-laws to the Dudleys. Could it be they, as royal kin, were opposed to this royal union for Guilford? Jane Grey was a grandniece of Henry the Eighth's: She had Tudor blood in her veins through her mother, the daughter of King Henry's younger sister. That might explain why the duke had elected to send Robert after Mary. Putting the heir to the throne in the Tower would prove a persuasive counter to the Suffolks' objections. Or was there an even more sinister motive to these machinations?

I wanted to delve deeper, particularly where the Suffolks were concerned. They had an important role here. The d.u.c.h.ess, in particular, was someone whose intentions I needed to discover. Elizabeth's safety, and my own, could depend on it. But a servant who hadn't overheard anything shouldn't ask clarifying questions.

I finally ventured to say, "Initiative like my lord's should be appreciated."

It was a tepid attempt, but like most people with a hurt to avenge, Robert seized on it. "Yes, you'd think it should. But my father apparently thinks otherwise. And my mother-G.o.d's teeth, I know well the only one she's ever cared about is Guilford. She'd see the rest of us dead in an instant if it came to his life or ours."

I let the moment pa.s.s. "I've heard it said mothers love their children equally, regardless."

"Did yours," he retorted, "when she left you to die in that cottage by our castle?"

The question was rhetorical; it didn't require an answer. I stood silent as he went on.

"She doesn't give a fig about me. Guilford's always been her favorite because he's the one she can control. She pushed to see him wed to Jane Grey. Father said she even went up against Jane's mother when the d.u.c.h.ess refused to consider it, citing that her daughter had the blood of kings in her veins, while we were upstarts with only the king's favor to commend us. Somehow, she got the d.u.c.h.ess to change her mind. Knowing my mother, she probably put a knife to that old c.u.n.t's throat."

His words jolted me to my sinews. A knife at the d.u.c.h.ess's throat: Suddenly I felt as if I were snared in a dark tangled web, where I had no chance of escape.

Robert undid his doublet, threw it onto the bench. "Well, foul on her! Foul on all of them, I say. I've my own plans now, and I'm not about to give them up just because she says I must. Let her go after Mary herself if she thinks that papist is a threat. I'm not some lackey to be ordered about at will." He scoured the room. "Is there nothing to drink in this G.o.dforsaken hole?"

"I'll fetch wine, my lord." I went immediately to the door. I had no idea where to find it, but at least I could take some time to compose my reeling thoughts.

Robert stopped me. "No, forget the wine. Help me undress. No use muddling my wits. I'm going to find a way to see Elizabeth, whether my father approves or not. I'll see her and get her consent, and once I do, he'll have to agree. He can do nothing else."

I divested Robert of his breeches, chemise, and boots. From his saddlebag, I extracted a cloth and dried the sweat from his torso.

"They'll have no idea of what hit them," he expounded. "Guilford and my mother, especially: I can't wait to see the looks on their faces when I tell them the news." He guffawed, spread his legs as I untied his points and peeled off his hose. "What? Have you nothing to say?"

Folding his undergarments and setting them on the coffer, I said, "I'm content to serve as my lord deems best."

He laughed. "Brash courage, Prescott-that's what it takes to survive this cesspit we call life. Not that you would know." He turned naked to the bedchamber. "Do as you like this afternoon. Just make sure you're back in time to dress me for tonight. And don't you get lost this time. I'll need to look my best."

"My lord." On sudden impulse, I reached to my jerkin. The die was cast. It would not do to have her messenger return to inquire why Lord Robert had failed to reply. "I found this on the table when I first came in." I extended the paper. "Forgive me. I forgot I had it."

Robert s.n.a.t.c.hed it from my fingers. "Clever boy. It wouldn't do for my mother to have seen this. It's a good thing you took a nap when you did." He tore the letter open. Triumph flooded his face. "What did I tell you? She can't resist me! She says she'll see me tonight, in the old pavilion, no less. She has a macabre sense of humor, our Bess. It's said her mother spent her last night of freedom in that pavilion, waiting in vain for Henry to come to her."

"Then, it is good news?" There was a vile taste in my mouth.

"Good news? It's the best b.l.o.o.d.y news I've had yet. Don't stand there like a simpleton. Fetch the ink and paper from my bag. I must send an answer before she changes her mind."

He scrawled his reply, sanding it and sealing the paper with his signet. "Deliver this to her. She arrived hours ago, demanding apartments overlooking the garden. Take the corridor to the ward, cross to the stairs, and climb them to the gallery. You won't see her in person. She has a penchant for afternoon naps. Her women should be about, though, including that morsel Kate Stafford, who has her trust." He guffawed. "Whatever you do, don't give it to the dragon Ashley. She hates me as if I were Lucifer himself."

I slid the paper into my jerkin. "I'll do my best, my lord."

He gave me a cruel smile. "See that you do. For if all goes as planned, you could soon be squire to the next king of England."

Chapter Fourteen.