The Siren Queen: An Ursula Blanchard Mystery at Queen Elizabeth I's (28 page)

“I wouldn’t be so discourteous, my lord, and I know that you’re no miser. But yes, I would like Dale to have a glass of wine,” I said.

Then, when the third glass had come and we had all been served, I looked at him directly and answered the question in his
face. “I fear you may well think me discourteous—but I can only repeat that I’m here in friendship. I had better be frank and straightforward and hope you will accept that I’m doing my best. Sir William Cecil sent me here . . . ”

“Did he, now?” Leicester’s tone was acid. He crossed an ankle over a knee and his foot twitched ominously.

“But not,” I said, “
not,
as a messenger from an enemy. Far from it. My lord of Leicester, we are all three servants of the queen. I know that you have . . . have been encouraging the scheme to make a match between Mary Stuart and the Duke of Norfolk, and to return her to power in Scotland. Believe me, it’s not in the queen’s best interests. There are others who are working to encourage the plan as well, but they see it only as a first step toward a much more sinister objective.”

His face darkened, as I had known it would. Since he was so swarthy to begin with, the result was thunderous. “How do you know all this? You admit you are Cecil’s mouthpiece? I suppose he sent you in the hope that I might be too much of a gentleman to order a lady like yourself out of my house? And might even let you finish your—message?”

“Being a lady,” I said, “is a drawback, if anything. It’s more difficult to be taken seriously. I don’t want you to give me the courtesy of a hearing only because I’m a light or slight person. I’m neither.”

“Are you quoting my own words at me?”

“Yes, my lord.”

I was indeed. When his wife had died in a mysterious accident, nine or so years before, he had sent instructions for the inquest, insisting that the jury must be made up of discreet and substantial men, and no light or slight persons. Leicester’s dark eyes glinted in acknowledgment of a hit. He was a good sportsman.

“I know you well enough not to discount you, Ursula! Very well. I’ll hear the rest.” He leaned back in his settle and his foot stopped twitching. “Go on.”

I chose my words carefully. Steady and factual, that was the approach which would best succeed with Leicester. “The sinister
objective of which I spoke,” I said, “begins with establishing Mary as Elizabeth’s accredited heir. Some of those involved hope to convert her to the Anglican faith first . . . ”

“Of course. What else?” said Leicester irritably.

“. . . but there are others whose hopes are different.
They
hope that eventually, through Mary, the old faith will be brought back to England. Very likely, with the Inquisition. They are even prepared to foment a Catholic rebellion in order to bring it about.”

“How have you and Cecil learned all this?” His tone was still aggressive but the threatening thunder was a little farther away.

“Cecil has ways of keeping himself informed,” I said. “I am one of them. A man called Julius Gale was another. I was staying at Norfolk’s house when . . . ”

I began to explain. He only interrupted once, near the start of my account, remarking that he had known of the two deaths, of course—Gale and the boy. “There have been investigations, I believe, but no one has been apprehended.”

“There is every reason to believe that the murders were linked,” I said, “and also linked to the conspiracy we are discussing. The conspiracy is much bigger than it seemed at first. My lord, if you knew it all, you would never let yourself become involved in anything to do with Mary Stuart. Please let me continue.”

He fell silent and I finished my explanation. Then he said: “A rebellion, you say. There is talk of raising the Catholic north, money is being gathered for the purpose, and Philip of Spain is prepared to send help once he knows that the north is ready to rise and the money is available? I have it right?
That
is what you are saying?”

“Yes.”

“So what are you—and Cecil—asking me to do?”

“Cecil wants the whole business to dissolve before it has begun. He wants the crazy dreams of these conspirators to remain just dreams. He doesn’t want uproar and heads on blocks. Free yourself, my lord. For your own sake and the queen’s. She needs both you and Cecil. And you don’t want to find yourself in the Tower, do you?”

“I’ve been in the Tower,” said Leicester shortly. “When I was young, before Her Majesty acceded.”

I knew he had. Also, his father had been executed for treachery. My reminder had been deliberate.

“What does Cecil propose to do about Norfolk?” he inquired.

“He hopes to persuade Norfolk to back out. We trust that you will back out, too. You will know how best to do it. I wouldn’t presume to advise you on the detail.”

Leicester got up and moved restlessly about on the terrace and back. “I agree,” he said, “that I’ve had uneasy moments. To put so much power within reach of such a vain, sentimental weathercock as Norfolk—or that siren of a Scottish queen . . . I have thought to myself: is this wise?

“I was once offered to her as a husband; I imagine you have heard about that? I never did find out how serious the queen was when she did that. But despite all the reports I have heard of Mary’s beauty and charm, I was never in the least drawn toward her. Later on, when I heard about Kirk o’ Field, I felt very glad that I wasn’t! Norfolk was horrified by that story to start with, you know.”

He sat down again, this time without crossing ankle on knee. “When the idea was first mooted that he might be a future husband for her, he said he’d rather sleep on a safe pillow. But now, it seems that the prospect of a crown matrimonial and a few ingratiating letters from a famous charmer have turned his head.”

“You may well be right.”

“And you would say to me: Make sure you don’t lose
your
head. Is that it?”

“More or less.”

“Thank you, Ursula. I will think over all that you have told me, with the utmost care. It took courage to come to me like this.”

“You weren’t likely to do me any actual harm,” I pointed out. “At worst, you would have called the butler to show me out. But I’m glad you listened. I have your safety, and the queen’s, at heart.”

“The queen’s
safety
!” It was as though a mist had lifted from
his mind, showing him a frightful vista, hitherto concealed from him. “Yes. I see. You think that . . . ?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” I said. “Before Mary can hope to sit on the throne, Elizabeth would have to be in her grave.”

 • • • 

I had done my best. With the Brockleys, I rode back to Cecil’s house, looking forward to saying:
I have done what you asked of me, Sir William. Now, may I pack and go home?

Only one thing disturbed my mood and that was the curious sense of foreboding that was still with me, like the flicker of lightning on a dark horizon. It had not lessened.

At Cecil’s house, as usual, Brockley took the horses away and Dale accompanied me indoors. We were crossing the paneled entrance hall when Cecil and Mildred came somberly to meet us.

“Ursula, my dear, I am so sorry . . . ”

“We are both sorry,” said Cecil gravely. “This is hard for you.”

“Sorry? About what?” I stopped short. “What is it? Is it Hugh? Meg?” The sense of imminent disaster loomed over me, a storm cloud about to break. “Is one of them ill? Or . . . ?” I couldn’t say the word
dead.

“It’s nothing to do with either Hugh or Meg,” said Mildred. “It’s your woman Gladys Morgan.”

“I did protest,” said Cecil, “but there was nothing to be done. The arresting officers had a proper warrant signed by a justice of the peace. As a man of the law, I could not forbid them . . . ”

“What couldn’t you forbid them?”

“Gladys Morgan,” said Cecil, “has been arrested and taken away, on a charge of encompassing death by witchcraft.”

Gladys. It was Gladys who was in mortal danger; Gladys whose peril I had sensed without understanding it. My sense of foreboding surged anew at the sound of her name, and every protective instinct in me came alert.

“But who’s bringing the charge?” I shouted. “Whose death is Gladys supposed to have encompassed?” They had brought me into the little room where Cecil had talked to me the day before. Dale was hovering, almost clucking, at my side.

Cecil placed a steadying hand on my shoulder. “You’ll find this hard to believe, but the man she is accused of killing is Julius Gale.”

I broke away from him and threw myself onto a settle. “Am I going out of my mind? Did I hear you aright? How can it be Gale! He was attacked in the street and stabbed in the back!”

“It’s a complicated tale,” said Mildred gently. “Let William tell it, in order, as it happened. He went with Gladys and the arresting officers and he knows all the details.”

“But who . . . ?”

“It starts,” said Cecil, “with Arthur Johnson, the topiary gardener. He laid the first complaint . . . ”

I interrupted him again, unable to help it. “
Johnson?
But that’s just spite! She laughed at him when he proposed to her and she mistook his topiary swans for geese!”

“Perhaps,” said Cecil. “Johnson didn’t accuse her of murder, not at first. But he went to Ridolfi and said he’d seen Gladys picking herbs in the knot garden, and that he looked through a window that night . . . ”

“Oh,
did
he? Peeping at the maids again, I take it. I wonder he had the nerve to admit it.”

“He says he was clearing a blocked drain.”

“If this situation weren’t so serious,” I said furiously, “that would make me laugh. Clearing a drain, indeed!”

“Whatever he was doing,” Cecil said, “he claims that through a window, he saw Gladys put something in the nightcap which George Hillman was going to drink.”

“She did, at my orders, as I told you. Why didn’t Johnson mention it at the time?”

“He didn’t think it was important—that she was just topping it up. Gladys says she was adding spices; that she’d met Hillman coming to the kitchen to ask for them and said she’d fetch them. She’s being loyal to you, I think. She also says that Madame Ridolfi gave her permission to pick herbs for headache medicine for you. Madame Ridolfi confirms this, but Johnson said that once Gladys was free to take herbs at all, she could have taken whichever ones she wanted. He said that the morning after he saw Gladys put something in Hillman’s drink, Hillman complained of having had wild dreams. Johnson heard about it—servants’ talk—and thought it over . . . ”

“She had made him angry, so he decided that here was a chance to get his revenge! But where does Gale come into it?”

“It seems that when Johnson took his complaint to Ridolfi, Norfolk and his secretary Edmund Dean were in the house, as they often are, and they were within hearing. Dean joined in and declared that Gladys had cursed people at Howard House and that those she cursed had fallen ill . . . ”

“They had bad chicken in a stew,” I said wearily.

“Dean said that one of the victims, Julius Gale, after apparently recovering from the illness, then died mysteriously in the street. He said that he saw the body and that the wound which was supposed to be the cause of death was just a tiny slit and
maybe wasn’t a stab wound at all. It could have been a simple cut, accidentally come by and not fatal . . . ”

“That’s complete nonsense!”

“Oh, I agree with you,” said Cecil. “So does Walsingham. But nonetheless, with the consent of Ridolfi and Norfolk, off went Dean and Johnson to lay information against Gladys, and now she is charged with procuring Gale’s death, and also of attempting to kill Hillman. The accusation there has crystalized, as it were. She is being accused of using poisonous herbs backed up by black arts. On those two counts, she has been arrested.”

“Oh my God,” I said. I was shaking now.

“If she is found guilty on either count,” said Cecil, “she’ll hang.”

Concernedly, Mildred said: “Ursula, we will help Gladys if we can. But meanwhile, however frightened and angry you are, your own health must be considered. We are about to dine . . . ”

“I can’t eat!”

“Perhaps not in the dining chamber, but would you take something if it’s served in your room? Meg’s there. She and Gladys were there together when the arresting officers came and Meg just stayed in the room. She’s very upset but she didn’t want anyone to sit with her. She said she’d wait for you. She ought to have some food, as well.”

I knew she was right. “Very well,” I said tremulously. “Meg and I will both eat in my chamber. And so will Dale and Brockley, if you would be so kind. Dale, fetch Brockley. I’ll go up now.”

Aware that the Cecils’ anxious gaze was following me, I went up to my chamber, where I found Meg lying on my bed, crying.

“Mother, they took Gladys away. She was so frightened. I know she says foolish things sometimes, but she’s just old and gets muddled, and she was
terrified
 . . . !”

“I know, darling.”

“But what are we going to
do
? Even Sir William couldn’t stop them from taking her! He went with her and tried to argue for her but they wouldn’t let her go! I saw him come back, looking so sad!”

“We’ll eat first,” I said. I was fighting back tears of my own. “They’re bringing us something here. While we eat, I’ll think.”

The Brockleys joined us. Dale had told Brockley what had happened and the first thing he said was: “If there’s anything we can do, just tell us.” The food arrived and although it tasted to me like sawdust, I made myself take a few mouthfuls and coaxed Meg to swallow something too. The Brockleys ate quietly, saying little but watching me with worried eyes.

My mind was working furiously. When we had all finished, I said to Meg: “I’m going to do what I can for Gladys but meanwhile, you’re not to stay here all alone crying your eyes out. Come. We’ll find Lady Cecil and ask if you can sit with her.”

I saw Meg settled with Lady Mildred and then went back to the Brockleys. We’re going out. The tide’s right. We’re going to hire a boat and go in search of Edmund Dean. I want to talk to him.”