Taste of Treason (24 page)

“Your Grace, you need a heartening drink to withstand the perils of the journey. Drink this.”

She looked up at him like a child who is not sure whether she can trust or not. Luke smiled and trust won. The Queen took the goblet and drained it.

“Ooh, that is lovely,” she said. “Like cherries straight from the tree.”

“Indeed it is, Your Grace,” Luke replied, watching her face closely. “Mayhap you would like a sleep before you leave.”

“Mmm,” was the only response.

When Madeleine’s eyelids began to droop, Luke glanced up at Queen Anne and on her nod, picked up the now-sleeping woman. They came to a small curtained-off area within a larger room. Luke understood instantly. This was a chamber within a chamber and the only way that Madeleine could be kept safe from detection.

Placing her gently on the bed, Luke withdrew to the outer room and waited for Queen Anne to come to him.

“Thank you, Master Ballard. Did that signify what I think it did?”

“Aye, Your Grace. The enemy knows she is here. He cannot get in and so he attempts to coax her out. We must make other arrangements.”

Chapter Thirty

“How does he know?”

“Possibly because he realizes she can be nowhere else, which is why we must change her quarters yet again. If she stays in your apartments, we run the risk of Nimrod not just realizing you are an elemancer, but moving against you, too. If we move her now, then he will not be certain and may stay his hand. We need Master Dufay.”

“I begin to understand the complexity of your task, Master Ballard.” Queen Anne sank onto her chair and rubbed tired eyes. “It has been a difficult day.”

Luke stared in amazement at the woman whose watchword had always been serenity in the face of trouble. This was the nearest she would ever come to an apology, he knew. She had weathered so many storms since the day almost thirty years ago when King Henry VIII’s gaze had first fallen on her.

It had never been in her nature to share her thoughts with any, but he could sense that might be about to change, and a glow of warmth suffused him. Who would have thought that the ragamuffin boy from Sir Thomas Heneage’s estate in Lincolnshire would one day stand in front of this most fascinating of women as the recipient of her confidence? Luke surmised that Gwenette Paige was the only person who knew the secrets of her heart and, he would wager, not nearly all of them.

“Your Grace looks tired,” he said.

“Aye. We had an unpleasantness this morning,” Queen Anne said, rearranging her cushions. “Caused by Lady Ysabel Broome.”

“She is gone, then?”

Anne sighed. “He used to keep her at Nonsuch or Whitehall, sometimes at Greenwich, but never here at Hampton Court. She has been angling for a return to the King’s bed since Madeleine’s pregnancy was announced. I went against my better judgment and spoke to him. I’m afraid the discussion became rather heated, but in the end I prevailed. A message was sent to the lady suggesting that she quit the court under pretense of indisposition. Thankfully, the strumpet has never learned to guard her tongue and she rushed into Henry’s chambers and began to rail at him. I will leave his reaction to your imagination.”

Luke grinned. He needed no imagination to know how Great Harry’s black-eyed boy would react to a shrill, discontented woman.

“So, when does she leave?” he asked.

“She already has,” the Queen Mother said shortly.

“Then that is a good thing, is it not?”

“Aye, it is, Master Ballard, but my son is out of temper with me and therefore with any suggestion I make. If you are correct and Madeleine is no longer safe here, then we must persuade him of the danger, and the only person who can do that is you.”

Luke bowed. “Time is of the essence, Your Grace. Would you send to Corbin Quayne’s house to ask Master Dufay to return? I will round up Captain Creswell and we will both see the King.”

“You think it that urgent?”

“Vital, Madam. The enemy had two girls in thrall to him. Sarah Rivers was one and escaped. He may yet attempt to use her, seeing he had to substitute Edith Brook. We must never forget he takes few chances, and plans with a long arm.”

The Queen Mother rose to her feet.

“I shall see to it that the Rivers girl is also sent home today. A parting gift should appease any family upset.”

* * *

Bertila could feel her heart thumping as she walked down the stairs and waited for Katelyn to answer the door. She was not surprised to see the hated face of Gerard Frayner. He stalked into the room as if he owned the house.

“How now, sir? Are you come to cause us further heartache? Have you not done enough evil? My father lies stricken upstairs because of you. You are not welcome here.”

“Not so fast, Mistress Witch. Do not think that the sorcery permitting you to escape your just punishment will work a second time. I am here to question you again and I warn you that if I mislike the answers, I shall have no hesitation in calling on the beadles and guards to arrest you and your father.”

“You have no authority over any in this house. I also might call the beadles and guards, to deal with a persecutor who hides behind a false veil of religion.”

Frayner sat down at the table. His voice was at its silkiest and, she knew, most dangerous.

“Do you say that religion is false?”

Bertila leaned across the table, almost hissing directly in his face.

“No, sir. I say you are false.”

“You would do well to guard your tongue. It may end up being cut out of your poisonous mouth, Madam. Where is your malcontent father?”

“My father lies abed. Your work. He suffered a seizure. He cannot move and can barely talk.”

“Aye, I am aware that his familiar visited him and dropped the pretense of illness on him to facilitate his escape from justice. However, I am not discouraged. I know you for what you are. You and your father, both. I will have you dangling before I am finished, never fear. No witch escapes Gerard Frayner. Indeed, I was lauded in my last calling for my zeal in bringing them to the rope.”

Bertila twisted her face into a sneer. “What? There were people left in your parish after your mania had run its course? You did not condemn all who crossed your path? Mayhap that was why you were moved, so that they could repopulate a parish cursed by your presence in it.”

Frayner surged to his feet and reaching out, curled his hand into the top of her bodice. She could feel the cold of his fingers against the warmth of her breasts and cried out in fear. A sudden flurry of footsteps running down the stairs revealed Roland Dufay.

“Let the lady loose.” His voice was calm, but brooked no argument.

Frayner removed his hand and swung round to face the newcomer.

“And who are you? Another sorcerer for me to harvest?”

“I am Roland Dufay. What I am is no concern of yours, sirrah. How dare you come into this house and terrorize a defenseless woman? Your name?”

Frayner drew himself up to his full height. “I am Gerard Frayner, priest at Hampton.”

“Then you have no dominion in this house. Leave. Now.”

Bertila was full of admiration. Master Dufay seemed in no way intimidated by the blustering priest and his voice never moved away from its usual pleasant tone.

Frayner began to swagger and smile. “Or you will do what? I can crush you just as easily as I will crush this witch and her father. And that whoreson apothecary in the Outer Green. Did you know he flaunted his bawd until he realized I saw through him? Now he has her hidden in some stew where he can visit unseen, but I will discover it and expose him.”

Dufay stared at him until the priest began to fidget in discomfort. Bertila had dropped into a chair, one hand at her throat. Dufay glanced at her.

“Mistress Bertila, there is nothing to fear.” He glared at Frayner. “This house and all in it are under my protection, Master Frayner.”

“And what power do you have?”

“I am known to the Queen Mother.”

Frayner flinched, but in the short silence that followed Dufay’s statement, a smirk spread across his face.

“And how is the Great...Lady?” he asked, making an insult of the final word.

“You tread a fine line, priest. Beware.”

“I have no fear of you. God is my only judge. I shall bring all of you to justice.”

At that moment, a loud knocking resounded through the room. The three occupants stood frozen as they heard Katelyn open the door and a gruff voice ask for Master Dufay. The next moment, one of the palace yeomen guards came into the room. His eyes passed over the priest and disregarded Bertila. He bowed to Dufay.

“Master Dufay. Her Grace, the Queen Mother requests your immediate attendance at the palace. I am charged with commanding you to return with me.”

Bertila gazed at Frayner. That his confidence ebbed was clear from the way his glance flicked around the room.

Dufay nodded. “I will accompany you as soon as I have finished my discussion with Father Frayner. Please wait a moment.” He turned to the priest. “As I have already said, all in this house are under my protection. Mark that well and cease your persecution. You may leave now.”

Bertila jumped up, seizing Dufay’s sleeve. “What is to stop him retracing his steps when he thinks you are safely gone, sir?”

Dufay patted her hand and smiled down into her worried face. Then he walked up to Frayner and held the priest’s gaze. “Because, Mistress Bertila, although the priest is arrogant and overbearing, he is not a simpleton. I trust I have made my point?”

Frayner, his mouth a flat thin line, swung round and stalked out.

Dufay bowed to Bertila. “I do not think he will trouble you again, but send for me at need. I will return.”

After bending swiftly to kiss her hand, he nodded to the yeoman. “Let us go.”

Bertila sat at the table, the back of her hand to her cheek.

* * *

“The King will see us this afternoon, Luke. Am I with you as a friend or colleague?”

Luke frowned. “When His Majesty hears what I have to say, I think you will wish to be neither, Byram.”

“How so?”

“Queen Anne maneuvered him into a corner about Lady Ysabel Broome.”

“That wanton?”

“Aye. The Queen Mother persuaded him to banish the lady, whereupon she burst into floods of tears and railed at him. Now I have to tell him that we think the Queen is still in danger and we need to move her to yet another set of apartments.”

Byram leaned on Luke’s counter and grinned. “So what you are saying is that he is having trouble with all the women in his life.”

“Aye, that’s about the size of it. Still want to be my friend?”

“Well, I’d best be on hand in case he orders me to arrest you.” Byram’s tone was light, but both men knew that if he was sufficiently exasperated, Henry was likely to descend on the first person that drove him past his limit of tolerance. “Let us pray that he enjoyed his meat and minstrels today.”

“I am preparing myself. This potion should calm any anger the King might be feeling. So long as I take out the cork before we enter the room, we will be shielded.”

They heard the King’s furious voice before they were halfway down the Watching Chamber. A dark-complexioned man, his face made more so by its high color, bowed his way out of the royal presence. Jamming his velvet cap complete with peacock feather on his head, he spun on his heels and marched past them. Luke could feel waves of anger rolling from him and looked back.

“Fuentes,” Byram breathed. “Spanish ambassador. Not popular.”

By this time, they had reached the doorway of the King’s Presence Chamber. As they passed the guards, Luke began to work the cork out of the neck of the vial. However, they were not a man’s length inside the room before Henry, howling with rage, stopped them both in their tracks.

“That sheep-baiting ratsbane,” he shouted, throwing a paper to the floor and pacing up and down like a frustrated stallion. “Telling us how to rule our kingdom. We have had our fill of minnows thinking they hold sway in our court. We will not be dictated to or counseled or sweet-talked by any man or woman. We are the monarch and we will make our own decisions. Rascally French. Do they think that because our Queen has French blood in her they dictate our actions? Order us to declare war at their behest. We think not.”

His voice rose to a crescendo as he flung the paper into the fire. Luke swallowed, remembering from whom this man had inherited his temper and what Great Harry had been capable of when crossed. His knees began to shake and his thumb slipped on the cork, leaving it firmly fixed in the vial. Henry’s glittering black gaze fastened on the two men standing near the door and his scowl deepened.

“And what good news do you bring me, apothecary?”

Chapter Thirty-One

Rob sat with his elbows on the kitchen table and his face cradled between his hands. An untouched plate of cheese and mutton sat in front of him. Fear and grief lodged in his stomach like a stone.

Alys. He had only just found her. They had only just found each other when that fleeting thread of happiness had been snatched from them. She must be dead, although a small persistent voice muttered that his heart would know if she had perished.

Now he knew how Luke had felt the previous summer when the kaygin sunderer had caused such mayhem. There again, the melancholy he sometimes sensed in his kinsman might have originated from an earlier lost love. Occasionally, after a difficult day, Luke would sit with a faraway look in his eye as if remembering happier times. On the few occasions Rob had questioned him, Luke had merely shaken his head and not replied. If he had lost someone he loved then Rob could only marvel he managed to function at all. They said time healed all wounds, but the grief currently ripping at his soul would never be assuaged. From this day, though, he would look on Luke with greater understanding.

His kinsman had assured him Alys still lived. Rob took a sip of small beer. In all the time he had been working with and for the apothecary, he had never known Luke to tell a lie. Ah, but he probably hoped to spare him the horror of knowing that Alys was gone. Then he shook his head. Luke was not the person to buoy anyone up with false hopes, which meant that he must believe Alys to be alive.

In some ways, that was worse. She would be alone and frightened, no doubt. Rob’s gut twisted again as he thought of her suffering and his not being there to comfort and protect her. There had to be something he could do.

He grabbed at the paper Luke had left on the table with his notes about the investigation. His eyes lit on the word
priest
. Frayner. Surely he could do something on that front to help the enquiry, try to neuter the seemingly endless power of the man. If so, Luke would have more time to concentrate on finding Alys. Deep in thought, Rob chewed his fingernails. What could he do?

His mind went back to his confrontation with the priest. Frayner took it for granted that Rob was so poorly treated he would not think twice about betraying his master. Could he use that blind arrogance to lay a trap?

He and Luke had agreed that the best way to nullify Frayner would be to make him a laughingstock. For that to have the necessary effect, the final confrontation must be in church before his flock. For someone of Frayner’s self-importance, to have his congregation ridiculing him instead of cowering with fear would be more than he could stomach.

This needed careful thought and even more careful preparation. He must soon visit the priest with his decision, but when he went, what should he say?

He would begin by asking the priest for a token of defense to save him from Luke’s wrath. Rob’s mouth twisted into a grin wondering if he dare mention toads again. It would further infuriate the man if he pretended that he still did not believe that anyone could be safeguarded from the black sorcery of such a great witch as the apothecary. Better to tread with care.

If he managed to get some emblem of protection from the man, Rob could only hope that it would not be in the form of prayers. That would ruin everything. It would show the priest in a holy light when those with eyes to see knew only too well that the only being Frayner worshipped was Frayner. No, he had to think of something that could turn the screw more tightly on the priest’s obsession with trapping Luke.

Once he had Frayner’s symbol, he could stand up in church in front of the worshippers and ask in a troubled voice why the priest had given him this trinket and had not had enough faith to rely on prayers.

Until he or Luke could come up with something more solid, it must suffice. Rob took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and set off.

* * *

Luke stayed on his knees, his head bowed. This was much worse than he had anticipated, and he was heartened by the sight of Byram kneeling next to him. In Luke’s experience, when one approached an encounter with apprehension, the reality was not as bad as the visualization. This, however, was more terrifying than anything he could have conceived. Under the cover of his reverential bow, Luke at last managed to flick the cork out of the vial.

“Speak.” King Henry’s voice became a little calmer, although Luke could still hear a dangerous edge of anger to it. He felt Joss’s nose nudging him forward and decided to gamble on his monarch’s innate sense of justice.

“Your Majesty. I do not bring good news, ’tis true. We had hoped to keep the Queen hidden from danger within your lady mother’s apartment. Events have convinced us that, although none can touch her, the source of the threat knows where she is.”

“And you are no nearer to identifying the miscreant.” Henry stated this as a fact, not a question and pounced as Luke hesitated. “Tell us we are mistaken.”

“If I said that I knew who it was but not who it was, Your Majesty, you would think I had lost my wits.”

“Another riddle? This is not the time for them, apothecary, nor are you our court jester.”

“No, Sire.”

A longer pause and then the king burst into huge guffaws of laughter.

“We think we understand. You know who it is, but he is wearing some kind of disguise and you do not know who is under that disguise.”

“Your Majesty is as wise as you are generous.”

“Speak to me in plain words.”

“May we come closer, Sire? What we have to say is for your ears alone.”

Henry nodded. Byram and Luke rose to their feet, the latter making sure that the open neck of the vial pointed towards the chair of state. Once standing in front of the king, Luke spoke softly.

“Sire, we need your permission to place the Queen in other quarters.”

Henry’s voice dropped to match Luke’s. “And if you do, how will you ensure her safety?”

“There are ways and means, Sire, and the Queen Mother is anxious to play her part.”

Henry’s eyes narrowed. “Have a care, Master Ballard. We would not like the two fairest roses of our realm to be put at risk.”

“I can assure Your Majesty by everything that I hold precious, the well-being of these two ladies is my first and only concern.”

“And catching the man who threatens them?”

“Once I am assured of their safety, Sire, I can concentrate my efforts into identifying and capturing him. Or her.”

The nip of Joss’s teeth on his calf reminded him that he needed to watch his words. Thank God for his greyspring. His tongue had already loosened further than it ought. He glanced up to see the King’s reaction.

Henry’s eyebrows had risen until they almost disappeared into his hairline. “Her?”

Luke could feel himself getting deeper and deeper into a situation where he would be forced to tell his King more than was wise. Henry was as superstitious as any of his subjects. If he knew that his Privy Inquirer had mystic skills, then the life of that Inquirer would be measured in hours.

No use telling his monarch that there was good magic as well as evil or to assay an explanation on the theory of balance in the universe. Much good that would do him on the rack. For that was where he would go, in an attempt to make him betray his colleagues. Luke felt that at a lick over six feet, he was quite tall enough.

Henry’s attention turned to Byram. “Captain Creswell, you possess a cool head under pressure. What say you on this matter?”

“Sire, I think we are up against a foe the like of which we have never before encountered. I would trust Master Ballard with my life and with him, pledge to safeguard the two royal ladies and your heir.”

“Master Ballard, where do you propose to hide the ladies?”

Luke grinned. “In the one place our enemy will not think of looking, Sire. May we proceed?”

Henry grunted and waved them away.

“Right,” Luke said as they left the King’s presence. “Now to divide the enemy’s scrutiny.”

In full view, they strode into the Fountain Court and up to the Great Hall discussing their plans in an undertone.

“We will sit at meat on the fringe of the room,” Byram said. “Once everyone is occupied with their trencher, we will slip out through the Horn Room and make our way to the chapel.”

“You do that,” Luke replied. “I shall leave as if I am going home and then swing through the Privy Orchard and come into the chapel via one of the east doors. If he has to concentrate on two of us, his focus will be so much the less.”

Without further conversation, the two friends parted. Luke slipped back down the stone stairs, keeping close to the wall. He sent out intermittent tendrils to see if he could sense any attention surrounding him, not daring to make it a constant surveillance lest Nimrod detect him. He felt none of the personal discomfort that usually signaled someone was watching. Instead, he felt a brooding presence, like a coverlet laid over the whole palace. Trying to chase it down to its source would only alert the foe. He looked at Joss, but she seemed undisturbed if a little more watchful than usual.

Luke pondered the strengths of each side on this battle for the greater good. Not only good, he decided, but the future of England. Ah, again that set off a spark of remembrance he was unable to pin down. The future of England. It depended on the safe delivery of the heir. The nagging thought sparkled and tantalized from the depths of his memory, but still he could not identify it. Best think on other things and let it float up from the abyss in its own time.

What he must do now was consolidate the forces at his disposal and safeguard the Queen. For the idea he had in mind that meant Dufay, Anne Boleyn and himself working together. His notion of the palace being overseen by a coverlet of evil had jogged his memory. One of the first things he had learned when studying for Dominus level was how to enshroud himself. He was sure that, somewhere in his studies, he had come across mention of a similar spell for concealing things rather than people. Luke racked his brains trying to remember where he had read the information. Something to do with heat and cold, he thought. That was it, the Gossamer Veil. He would ask Dufay about it, but first, he must reach his destination undetected.

* * *

It took the best part of an hour, but when Luke finally slid into the chapel, he found Byram already there.

“I have been thinking,” the captain said. “We must leave guards on duty wherever we put the Queen. How do we ensure their silence regarding the situation? If we house them elsewhere, it will cause comment.”

Had he not been inside the house of God, Luke would have cursed. Thank heavens for Byram’s practical brain. So intent had Luke been on hiding the Queen he had given no thought to those who would, of necessity, surround her. These would include gossips and servants as well as guards.

He sat down next to Byram and closed his eyes. This entire enterprise would need several spells running simultaneously, which, apart from the energy required to maintain them, was bound to alert Nimrod. Unless...

“I think I may be able to do that, too, Byram, but I shall need four of your best and most trusted men. Men who will do as you order without question. Tell them they have the future of the realm in their hands, but that they must tell their fellows they are being sent to another palace because rumor has it that the Queen is being taken in secret to Greenwich. Will you go and arrange that and order them to wait in the Queen’s old apartments? I shall be with the Queen Mother.”

“You mean to take her back to the place where you faced that creature? Surely that is the last place Her Grace should be.”

“On the contrary, Byram, it is the last place our enemy will look because he will think as you do.”

Byram nodded slowly and smiled. “I applaud your reasoning. The Queen will be in familiar rooms and that will put her at her ease. Moreover, the apartments are easy to guard. But how will you reconcile the Queen into going back into her original chambers?”

“I’ve thought of that, too, my friend, and you have no need to worry on any score,” Luke said, but forbore to explain.

As he watched Byram stride out of the chapel, Luke wondered if he could risk the enshrouding spell and walk across Fountain Court. As long as Joss stayed close on his heels and he moved slowly, all should be well. He could, of course, leave the way he had come, walk to the Mews and come back into the palace via the secret tunnel.

That would take time he did not have. He muttered a prayer for protection, followed by the enshrouding incantation and ambled across the courtyard towards the Queen Mother’s apartments. He had almost reached the door when, without warning, Joss leapt upon his back. He felt the blow intended for him as it coursed through her body and stood motionless with horror as she fell to the ground, her paws moving feebly and her eyes a mask of pain.