The Queen's Dwarf A Novel (31 page)

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Is it too much to ask for the accursed monkey to come to me when I enter the Freaks’ Lair? I wondered. Especially when I had whiled away many a sleepless night letting Pug off his chain. Freedom that afforded him the fiendish glee of ripping stuffing out of the life-size poppet Rattlebones had been constructing for one of his tricks. But Pug was far too busy trying to peel away the gauntlets that covered Boku’s wrists to be bothered with me. The magician did not even seem to notice Pug’s intrusion. Boku’s hooded eyes fixed upon the scene being played across the room.

Dulcinea had drawn as far away as possible from the table where Simon and Robin were gambling for mismatched stakes—a penknife with a broken point, an ivory toothpick, and three mended handkerchiefs. Sara sat atop the table, combing out one of the spaniel’s ears. Sara’s own rich locks gleamed as she and the other occupants of the table directed their attention anywhere other than the pair locked in heated conversation half a chamber away.

Dulcinea applied her needle with irritated vigor, stitching tiny silver bells onto a gossamer veil the color of lapis lazuli. Even from where I stood, I could see the veil’s quality was far finer than any she had used before, silver unicorns embroidered around the border.

I had never known Will Evans to take exception to any legendary creature, but at the moment he wore a scowl that would do credit to the fiercest Welsh dragon. I could not count the times I had heard Will Evans offering fatherly advice to whoever happened to have the good fortune to attract his notice—from Jenny, the scullery maid we had met that first night, to the queen herself. But there was none of that long-suffering patience in the giant now.

What parts of his face weren’t covered with his bushy beard were red, his fists like boulders as he flexed them. I could not hear all he was saying, his rumbling voice kept low, but Dulcinea’s retorts rang clear. I was not the only person wandering off at night, it seemed, though I had only been sneaking to the Freaks’ Lair to free Pug.

“It is not your affair where I go or when!” Dulcinea exclaimed. “You are supposed to guard the queen’s door, not mine!”

“The king will turn you away if he finds out! He’ll not allow anyone of questionable morals around his wife.”

“Then why does he favor Lady Carlisle? The duke of Buckingham?” Dulcinea tossed her head, bells on her veil jingling. “If I choose to take the risk, why should you care?”

I winced at the pain Evans attempted to hide. “Because you have no one else to guard you from the palace’s snares.” He tugged the linen collar around his barrel-thick neck. “We are family here in the menagerie, Dulcinea. We must stand together.”

“The lords and ladies do not. They snatch what they can from royal favor and hoard it for themselves. I would be happy to have just a few of the pretty things they possess. And I mean to have them. Archie says—”

“Archie?” Will blustered. “Tell me you are not heeding that old fool.”

“I have a strange way of heeding the truth! I will not have this face and this form much longer. There is a short time I can seize the fine things in life before my chance is gone.”

“Dulcinea—”

“Don’t say my name in that tone, Will Evans!”

“What tone?”

“As if you were my husband and I was making a cuckold of you! If I want a man who smells of perfumes, a man with soft hands and smooth skin, then why should I not have one? Am I not good enough for your precious noblemen?”

“You are too good for the likes of
him.
”

Him? I wondered if Dulcinea’s admirer was Buckingham, as Will feared.

“He will use you and discard you. He has done so with half the ladies at court. Virtuous ladies! Oh, I have heard of his methods. He has his fine friends lure women he desires off to see his mother. But she is not there. Once the lady he desires arrives, he debauches her while his cohorts stand guard.”

“If he treats fine ladies that way, how long do you think the maidenly protests of a rope dancer will hold back him back? A man used to seizing whatever he wanted from the time he could reach out his hand?”

It was true. I could see in Will’s expression that he knew it as well as she did. Still, he asserted stubbornly, “There are six of us in the menagerie. We can make certain that you are never alone.”

Dulcinea gave a scornful laugh. “You’ve grown daft with your fool stories of honor and chivalry, Will. What business has any of us to attempt such virtues in this life we lead? I see things as they are. What choice do I have in this affair? I can go willingly and gather a few baubles along the way or I will be forced to submit and be left with nothing but a sore cunny.”

Will’s breath hissed through his teeth at the ugly word and the uglier truth. “Dulcinea, I beg you, do not hold yourself so cheaply.” Pain contorted Will’s face. I hoped Dulcinea did not see it for what it was—the jealousy of a man who fancied himself in love with her, an ugly man who knew he could never hope to win the kisses of one as beautiful as the rope dancer. I could not bear his vulnerability, and rushed to deflect everyone’s attention from him as best I could.

“Look at the lot of you—dawdling about when the queen is fairly drowning in misery.” Six pairs of startled eyes turned to me. “I won’t have it, I tell you. We’ve only two hours before Her Majesty dines to come up with a way to make her laugh.”

Rattlebones grimaced. “What do you think we’ve been trying to do for weeks now? I’ve run out of tricks.”

“Design new ones.” I would have to do the same, especially if I were to find a way to outwit Buckingham.

I turned to Boku. “Surely you must have some way to dazzle the queen? Teach the king’s lion to dance or ride the elephant His Majesty keeps in the St. James’s Menagerie?”

“He will need bigger chains to keep a lion under control,” Rattlebones jested, pointing to the slender gold thread about the monkey’s neck.

“It is not a lion’s destiny to be tamed,” Boku said. “Your God would call it a sin.”

“A lion is an animal. Just another animal.”

Captive in a menagerie,
Boku’s voice whispered in my ear, though his lips did not move.
Like we are.

*   *   *

My head ached by the time I trudged up to my chamber. The last thing I expected to see when I opened the door was Clemmy’s wide grin.

“Surprised you, did I?” He capered, jerky as a puppet on strings. “Thought about hiding and jumping out at you like a bogey, the way I used to do when I went back to see my mam and da, but couldn’t hold still long enough. I was that excited to see you! The duchess o’ Buckingham said I must bring you such good news myself. Isn’t your Samuel as fine a lad as I’ve ever seen?”

My heart leaped. “You saw Samuel?”

“Right there at his lessons at the Ball and Claw, didn’t I? Bright as a new penny is your brother, from what his tutor says. Didn’t Master Quintin send a letter with me reporting to Her Grace about Samuel’s progress? Did not expect such a fine lady—a duchess, no less!—to set such store by a lad like your brother, but she does. Should have seen her face shine while she read what the tutor had to say.”

“Is Samuel well? He always looked too thin and pale.”

“Learning must agree with the lad. He’s plumping right up. Eyes looked a little red—too much studying by firelight, I’d imagine. When I walked in the room, he closed up the book so quick, he nearly dropped it! Master Quintin said he’d had to teach the boy to do so as a matter of manners when guests dropped by. It was the only way the lad could show me the attention I deserved. The tutor told me that if it was up to Samuel, he’d not stop even to sleep. Latin, if you can believe it! A boy from the shambles of Oakham learning Latin.”

“What I would not give to see it!” I turned away so Clemmy would not see my eyes fill with tears. For the first time since I had made my bargain with Buckingham, I felt real joy—a moment only—then Samuel’s earnest features shifted in my imagination to the sorrowful countenance of the queen.

“Here is the best news of all! Her Grace is so pleased with Samuel’s progress—and, I do believe, is so much your friend, Jeffrey—that she is having Master Quintin come to London to buy whatever books your brother might need. As a kindness to you, she has commanded Samuel to accompany him!”

“Samuel? In London?” My heart nearly leapt out of my chest at the prospect. “When?”

“Two months. Maybe three, by the time the arrangements can be made.”

I swiped my hand across my eyes and scowled. “Accursed fleas,” I said by way of explanation. “I must’ve gotten them from the infernal monkey.”

“You needn’t make excuses to me, Jeffrey,” Clemmy said. “When I heard the treat in store for you, my eyes got leaky, too.”

August 1627

Strange how long it took me to thank the duchess of Buckingham in the weeks the anticipation of Samuel’s impending visit rooted and grew in my heart. I quieted my unease regarding Ware’s connection with the queen as much as I could. What were a few gaming debts to Her Majesty? There was no real danger. Her husband had the wealth of the royal treasury at his disposal. What if Buckingham intended to use this monetary connection to the queen somehow? Between my deceit and the countess of Carlisle’s increasing intimacy with Henrietta Maria, how much more damage could this new plot do to the queen? As for Ware’s claim that he was my friend—that was something I objected to. But I could not think it would do any good to confront him.

Better to turn my mind to delights to come. Samuel. What would my quiet brother think of the cacophony of London? The crush of people, buildings piled atop one another, their upper stories thrusting out across the narrow streets, blotting out the sky. There were so many wonders to show a lad who had never stepped beyond the borders of his home county.

I thought of the store of coins I had collected, tribute tossed to me by courtiers I had amused more than the rest of the crowd. Coins earned by my own wit, less tainted by Buckingham. What delights could my money buy for Samuel? A new suit of clothes made out of whatever color of cloth he chose. A doublet boasting real buttons to fasten down the front instead of the pins village folk used. I could show him through the palace, where we could crawl into the bed the queen gave me as we once shared the tiny cot in the loft back home. But this time, we could talk all night if we wanted to and no one could stop us.

I could take him riding upon my horse in St. James’s Park. We could wander through St. Paul’s Cathedral and the Exchange, where a man could buy almost anything he imagined. I would treat Samuel to the theater and feed him his first taste of an orange. I grinned like the fool I was, imagining my brother’s too-solemn face puckering at the sourness, then savoring the sweetness, juice running down his chin. Samuel had always been wary of trying new things, waiting and watching until John or Ann or I did so first, fearful of making the slightest mistake.

But that would change. A whole new world would unfold to Samuel because of the lessons he was learning. Because of me. Was I merely groping for a way to make what I had done less reprehensible? I could not be sure. But I stitched hopes and expectations along the length of Samuel’s upcoming visit the way Dulcinea sewed bells on her costume—adding more and more until the gauze threatened to tear beneath their weight.

Wait and see how perfect his visit is, I told the part of me that could not escape guilt and shame. Seeing Samuel happy would make my tribulations under Buckingham seem worth the price. Samuel would be so proud when he saw how I moved among the greatest nobles in the land, ambassadors from foreign countries greeting me by name. I would show Samuel the coins they slipped into my pocket, a fee for helping people get past Will Evans’s vigilant guard so the statesmen could make petitions to the queen in person.

At some point during Samuel’s stay in the city, I would even take him to the menagerie’s lodgings. What might Samuel think of the “curiosities”? Our tricks would astonish him—the members of the menagerie were brilliant at fascinating people when they wished to. I would make certain my fellow performers wished to please Samuel when the time came. But not yet. For now, Samuel’s visit was a delicious secret. Mine alone.

I found myself setting up extra japes before those courtiers disposed to be generous. With the dissension in Parliament, more people were seeking royal audiences than ever before. I began to ask about the finest entertainments to be found in the city. But I was wary of showing too much interest in securing private conversation with the duchess of Buckingham, for fear it might raise questions of my loyalty to the queen.

One sunny day in August when I was on my way to join some of Her Majesty’s household on the bowling green, I stumbled upon the duchess sitting alone.

She was perched on a bench beneath a willow in the garden of St. James’s Palace, where court had moved three weeks past. The waterfall of leaves all but concealed her.

Far ahead, the queen and Lady Carlisle were gliding down the garden path, Mitte and her puppies a yapping, scampering train of delight following after.

I swerved out of my way and went to the ring of willow fronds that cloistered the duchess from the world of court. I cleared my throat to warn her of my presence. When the duchess looked up from the letter in her hand, I spoke.

“Your Grace, I do not wish to intrude on your solitude, but I wanted to thank you for your kindness to my brother.” I could not guess how much of her husband’s schemes the duchess was privy to. Did she know Buckingham at all? “I owe you a great debt.” My throat felt tight. “The chance to see my brother is more than I had hoped for.”

She turned her face more fully into the light filtering through the leaves, and I saw that the duchess was weeping.

“I pray there is no bad news from France?”

“My husband has taken Ile de Ré. He must still lay siege to the citadel there—but with the blockade he has set up, it is only a matter of time before it falls. Once His Grace forces those loyal to the French king to surrender, the Huguenots at La Rochelle will see how much support England is ready to give their rebellion. They will rise against the French government and join my husband. Buckingham will have a port for English ships on French soil, and from there, God alone knows how far he might go. It will be such a triumph, people will forget what happened at Cádiz.”