The Queen's Dwarf A Novel (46 page)

Will gave me an encouraging smile, then went into the privy quarters. I tried to imagine what Samuel must be suffering. He would be so scared. Was he cold? Hungry? Of all the children in my father’s cottage, he was the one most likely to get the grippe or ague. He was the one sensitive to shouting, wilting at brutality. Could there be any crueler place than prison for him?

My elbow ached from where I’d struck the ground when the brigand dragged me from my horse. I kneaded the bruise, composing what I would say to the queen as I waited for Will to return. I would fall on my knees before her. Beg.

I closed my eyes. “Please, God. You have to protect him until I can wrest him from his cell. He can’t take care of himself.”

I heard the heavy tread of Will’s boots approaching, their pace slower than usual. I turned to him. What I saw on his face made my stomach drop.

“Her Majesty will see you,” he said. “But Jeffrey, something is wrong. I’ve not seen her so distressed since the king exiled her French ladies. Maybe not even then.”

“She’s distressed. I left the palace without her permission and gave her a fright. She’ll understand why I had to take such action when I explain.” She had to. I wound through to the chamber, Samuel’s pale features filling my mind. He must be so afraid.

An usher opened the door, announced me. I stepped into the room filled with familiar things: comforts Her Majesty’s household carried with it from palace to palace, tapestries upon the walls, tables and chairs, books and chests, bright cushions and romping spaniels. Today, however, Mitte was cowering under a table.

Henrietta Maria paced the chamber, her gown of gilt satin crumpled, straggling wisps of hair sticking to her tear-reddened cheeks. Her eyes blazed with pain and something more—fury. Lady Carlisle stood at a wary distance, twisting her fingers together. Grief smudged the tender skin beneath her eyes. I was certain then that the countess knew that the duke of Buckingham was dead.

Of course the assassination was a shock. But shouldn’t the death of the queen’s greatest enemy be as much a relief to Her Majesty as it was to me? I waited, certain Henrietta Maria’s eyes would communicate what her lips could not. Why was she glaring as if she hated me? A hook twisted in my chest.

“Lucy,” the queen said with a fervent devotion that shook me to the core. “Leave us. But do not go far. I cannot be without my truest friend.”

The countess moved past me on her way out of the room. She gave me a curious look as she passed, one I couldn’t read.

“Majesty,” I said bowing deeply to the queen. “Forgive me for leaving court without your permission. Master Ware brought alarming news that my brother Samuel had been cast into Fleet Prison.”

“Perhaps I can find a dungeon to cast you into. One befitting a traitor.” Her voice hitched, bleeding heartbreak.

My blood turned to ice. “Majesty, you are the most important person in my life. The love I bear you—”

“Do not make me retch! Since the day you came into my service, you have been conspiring with my greatest enemy. You have wheedled my deepest secrets from me, rung out my heartaches, preyed upon my homesickness, all the while reporting them to the duke of Buckingham. You even wrote to His Grace of my uncertainty in the marriage bed.”

My legs started to quiver. My letters. How had she gotten hold of them just when I thought I was safe?

She flattened her hand upon her breast as if to shield her heart. “Did you and the duke laugh about my struggles, Jeffrey? Make some of your rapier-sharp jests?”

“I would never.” Images flashed through my memory—the day I had found her with the litter of puppies in the stable, so vulnerable yet brave as she confided in me.

The queen dashed curls away from her cheek. “If it were not for Lucy’s loyalty, I would still not know I had taken a snake to my bosom.”

“She is the duke’s mistress herself.”

“Women have tender hearts, which can be won by unscrupulous courtiers. But when Lucy saw these letters between you and the duke, she chose to be loyal to me. God knows how His Grace will react once he discovers what she has done.”

I almost blurted out that Buckingham would have difficulty arousing any reaction at all, since I had left him in a pool of blood, but Will’s voice sounded warning in my ear. No one must discover I had been in the vicinity.

The queen gripped her stomach and paced toward the window. “It is just as the surgeons say about such ill-formed freaks. Your spirit is as unnatural as your form. You are a monstrous creature unable to love or give loyalty even to those who have shown you kindness.”

I felt monstrous, my acts of betrayal seeming to boil up like pustules of some pox. I averted my gaze. “You have been the most generous of mistresses.”

“I am your queen!” she shrieked. “You owed me fealty unto death!”

Would she demand my life as forfeit? Would I blame her if she did? I had been ready to sacrifice everything when I had ridden out to kill Buckingham, my only object that she and Samuel would be safe. Buckingham could no longer hurt Henrietta Maria. He could no longer sign the order that would spur the guard to kill my brother.

Yet, if Samuel remained in Fleet Prison, he might die a slower, more torturous death. The kind that made a quick blade to the throat seem a gift from God. Only through the queen’s influence with the king could I hope to free my brother. I groped for the right words to plead my case, more afraid than I had ever been in my life.

“Majesty, I owe you more than I can ever repay. But there is one I owed loyalty even before I met you: my brother, whom I love as you love your brother Gaston.”

The queen drew herself up, seeming far taller than her small stature allowed. “Loyalty to king and country must be stronger than family ties. Did I not come to England because of what I owed France? Did I not marry a man I had never met? Did I not lose everyone I loved when Buckingham convinced the king to rid me of my childhood attendants?”

A sudden awareness spread across her face. “That ripping away was your doing as well, was it not, Jeffrey?
You
were the one who gave me the medallion from an execution, who spoke of Tyburn.
You
convinced me that making a pilgrimage was the best way to show English recusants that I was their ally.”

“You spoke of going to Tyburn first. I did not come up with the idea out of thin air.”

“But I did not understand how the English people would react to such a pilgrimage on my part. I did not stop to think how heinous honoring those executed for the Gunpowder Plot would be to my husband. You understood all that, and more.”

I tried to swallow. “There are things powerful men can do to coerce people into doing what they would never do willingly. Buckingham threatened harm to my brother and made good on it when he had Samuel arrested. Samuel is barely fifteen, and he has never hurt anyone.” My voice cracked, hopelessness welling up as I looked into her face. “Ware says Samuel’s tutor is a Jesuit. Majesty, Samuel is true to the old religion in his heart, but he is loyal to the Crown.”

“A trait you do not share.”

Please, God, I prayed. Give me words to convince her to aid Samuel. “I would die for you, Your Majesty. But I could not sacrifice my brother, let him suffer. I deserve whatever punishment you deem worthy of my trespass. But Samuel should not have to pay for my sins. Intercede on Samuel’s behalf with the king.” I sank down onto my knees. “I beg you, Your Majesty.”

“You want me to alienate my English subjects further? Champion outlawed Jesuits in direct defiance against the king and laws of the land? That would give the Puritans fodder for their handbills.”

“You would be saving an innocent lad from unjust punishment. If you honor your faith, surely you must—”

“Don’t you dare fling my faith at me! As if a creature like you knows anything about God or—or piety or honor!”

I could see her nostrils flare, her breath coming quick and sharp.

“Do you know that I cannot even banish you from my household?” the queen raged. “I would have to explain my actions to the king. What could I say? That I gabbled on to you about our marital relations? Told you what happened when my husband and I went to bed? Could I tell the king that I was fool enough to let you lead me into making the biggest mistake of my life? I had not the wit to understand you were manipulating me into making my English subjects hate me—all to the duke’s benefit, of course? What kind of fool would my husband think me? How worthy a consort? No. I must suffer having your betrayal paraded before my face every day.”

Was it possible that she would not have me brought up on charges? I knotted my hands together. “Majesty, I will leave court of my own accord. Just release my brother and I will make up some excuse—ill health or responsibilities at home or some immoral act. Tell the king anything you wish.” I thought of how Will had attempted to save Dulcinea from being banished from court. “Tell the king I defiled a serving girl and refused to wed her. Just make some name up. It will hurt no one.”

“You think the king would believe a woman would have anything to do with a freak like you?” Something seemed to crack in the queen. Horror at what she had said bleached her face, and I thought she might be sick. Yet she refused to take the words back. Why should she? Most would say her statement was true.

“Majesty, throw me to whatever lions you wish. I will confess to any crime—for Samuel’s sake and to spare you the sight of me.”

“So you will go back to whatever dirty hovel Buckingham dragged you out of, willing to sacrifice yourself for your brother?”

“I would.”

“Once you were back in such a lowly setting, how long would you keep silent about the happenings at court? You have come to live for an audience. How long before you would go to the public house, drink too much ale, and start telling the inn patrons that the queen of England could not satisfy her husband, the king, in bed?”

“I swear upon my soul I would never do such a thing.”

“I intend to make certain of it. You will not leave my service. You will be within my reach every moment, where the slightest whisper of scandal can be stamped out at once.”

“But Samuel—you must at least let me go to see him. Even if it is only to make arrangements with the jailer, pay to provide food for my brother, a blanket to ward off the cold.”

“I
must
? How dare you! A queen does not take orders from her subjects. A queen gives her subjects commands. I command you not to leave the menagerie’s lodgings, or you will join your brother, and you both may starve.”

Desperation clawed at me.

“I do not want to see your face. Do you understand?” the queen demanded. “You are forbidden to take part in the masques, the court feasts. I wish to God I never had to see you again.”

“What of Samuel?” I dared ask one last time.

“Pray to God to save him and his Jesuit master,” the queen said. “After the discord you caused at Tyburn, I cannot.”

A commotion sounded outside the door. The countess of Carlisle burst in, allowing the flood of tears finally to break free.

“Majesty—a rider has just come with ill news from Portsmouth!”

“Please, God, tell me the king is all right!” Henrietta Maria exclaimed.

“His Majesty is well. But the duke of Buckingham is dead.”

The queen braced her hand against the nearest table. “Dead?” she echoed. “Was there an accident in the shipyard?”

“The duke was stabbed by an assassin at the Greyhound Inn.”

I could see the queen’s instinctive horror, the echo of her father’s death. She wheeled away from us. I could tell she was crossing herself.

She was shaking. She must be feeling relief, I thought. Buckingham can harm her no more. But when she turned back to us, her face creased with concern. “This will be devastating to my husband. Lucy, have the household packed up at once. I must go offer His Majesty what comfort I can.” She all but trod on me as she hastened away.

Will was waiting for me when I walked out the door. He gave me a grin he meant to be bracing. “How soon will Samuel be free? Is the queen writing to the king even now?”

“No. She believes it is too dangerous to interfere in an arrest involving an accused Jesuit.”

“She’s been doing battle over religious matters since the moment she set foot on England’s shore. Why would she not help an innocent lad—your brother, no less—be freed when he’s been imprisoned unjustly?”

“She no longer trusts me. She will not risk displeasing the king.”

“You were willing to do murder to keep her safe!”

“Oh, and can you not hear the laughter if I were ever so foolhardy as to tell her that? Look at me, Will. A dwarf riding off to slay the most powerful nobleman in England? It would make me look ridiculous.”

“But she holds you in affection more than anyone else in the menagerie.”

“Not anymore.”

“Jeffrey, I don’t believe that. What could have changed things between you so abruptly?”

“Look at the friendship you and I shared. The right force applied snapped it.”

“Our friendship mended, given time.”

“Has it?” I looked at him, feeling a trifle hopeful.

“You know it has.” Will patted me on the back. “The queen’s affection for you will heal in time. Wait and see.”

I looked out the window, imagining the confines of Fleet Prison, the darkness, the stench, the fevers that raged through the cells. The queen had rendered me helpless to send Samuel aid. “Time,” I said, listening to the clock chime in the distance. “Time may be the one thing my brother does not have.”

“We will work for Samuel’s relief as much as we can, Jeff. You are not alone in this, my friend.”

I pictured Will’s face if he should ever see the letters I had written to the duke. Honorable Will’s horror, the loathing that would envelop his homely face.

I covered my eyes with my hand, exhausted beyond imagining, feeling smaller than I ever had in my life.

T
WENTY-
E
IGHT

Never had the queen’s household flung itself into packing with more haste, Her Majesty determined to rush to her husband’s side. I wondered if she longed for comfort herself after my betrayal. She, too, had lost her oldest friend in England.