Conspiracy (11 page)

“But yesterday he was,” Ellie pressed.

Rosa sighed and nodded unhappily. “He was so deep asleep, even hitting him didn't waken him.”

I took a sip of the double ale, which was quite strong and had a slightly musty taste—not unpleasant—probably from being brewed with herbs.

“Well, it was time for the fireworks,” Rosa went on. “I thought I'd best set them off myself, and I was just going with my fire pot to the first of the frames with the rockets on, when …” She flushed and looked down.

“What?” I asked, taking another sip.

“You won't believe me,” she said.

“We'll see,” I persisted.

“Well …” Rosa took a deep breath. “A merman, all covered with weed, rose up out of the water. He snatched my fire pot and hissed at me to keep away, and I was so frightened I ran away back to my father.”

The sun was hot on my head—I was annoyed with myself that I had not remembered to bring a hat with a brim, or a veil to keep my complexion pale. I blinked hard and took another sip. “What did the merman look like?” I asked, hiding a yawn.

“He was bedecked with weed, and his face was very frightening, all covered with scales like a fish and long hair like waterweed.”

There was something wrong with my eyes but I couldn't think what it was. The sun had made me
very thick-headed and I started to feel woozy. It was rather embarrassing. Double ale doesn't normally affect me so quickly. “And what did he do when the fireworks had finished?” I asked with an effort.

Rosa shook her head. “I didn't see him go. I just heard a splash.”

“Hm,” I said, swaying slightly. I thought Ellie looked funny, the way her face was changing shape and getting bigger and smaller. The world went round me as if I were dancing, and I slid down onto the ground. It was really too much effort to get up, never mind the problem of staying awake, so I shut my eyes and fell fast asleep.

I woke to find water being splashed on my face and half my bodice laces undone. Rosa was wringing her hands and Ellie was squatting next to me, patting my cheeks.

“You fainted,” she said. “I never seen you do that before. Are you ill?”

And suddenly a thought struck me: I had only started feeling sleepy when I drank the double ale! I sat up quickly, which made my head rock quite a lot, and I pushed Ellie away. “That ale,” I said. “Where is it?”

Ellie looked at me as if I was going bedlam, as she
puts it, and pointed at the mug I had put down just before I fell over—I had only had about three sips from it.

“Put the jar of double ale in the tent and hide it under something,” I ordered. “? wager there's laudanum in it to send someone stupid and sleepy.”

“What?” asked Rosa. “But it came from Mr. Secretary Cecil. One of his men, dressed in his livery, delivered it.”

“You might've fainted,” objected Ellie to me.

“Well, let's test it then,” I said. “What animal might like to drink ale?”

“Pigs,” said Ellie. “They get the brewer's swillings, so they're used to ale.”

So all three of us went down to the Earl's swineherd's cottage, where there was a sow with her piglets in a small sty. I found a water bowl and poured a little of the double ale into it, and Ellie hopped over the gate quickly and put it down on the ground.

Two little piglets came over and slurped it up— they were handsome red Tamworths, very lively and curious—and then they looked at each other in a puzzled way, lay down on their sides, and went to sleep. Their six brothers and sisters were busy rooting in their food trough and stayed awake.

“See?” I said. “The piglets that drank the double ale have gone straight to sleep, but the others are all wide awake.”

Rosa whistled. “Father had a couple of pints of double ale this morning when he woke up and realized what had happened. That must be why he's sleeping now.
And
why he passed out last night …”

“We need to find the liveryman of Cecil's who brought the drink,” I told Ellie. “Perchance it was he who dressed as one of the mermen last night, to come across to the island where the fireworks were and frighten Rosa.”

“In which case, he was the poor jesting soul what fired off the firework that went so near the Queen and injured Gypsy Pete,” added Ellie.

Rosa blinked at her in puzzlement. “Why are you sorry for him?”

“I feel sorry for him because of what I'll do to 'im when I catch 'im, that's all,” Ellie told her darkly.

I was thinking hard, though my head was still a bit fuzzy from the laudanum. “No, Ellie, I don't think it's just some liveryman of Cecil's playing practical jokes. This is too serious. He wouldn't have done it without orders from Mr. Secretary.”

Everyone knows that Sir William Cecil is the Queen's wisest adviser and the best administrator in
the country. But it is also well known that he and the Earl of Leicester hate each other violently. They have to work together because the Queen insists and because they both serve on the Privy Council, but you can see both of them bristling when they are near each other. So that could explain why the accidents were happening—mayhap Cecil was trying to get the Earl into trouble with the Queen.

“It means,” I continued urgently, looking at Rosa, “that you must keep that ale safe and hidden as I said, and
don't
let your father drink it. It's important evidence.”

“But we haven't got anything else for him to drink,” said Rosa. “The Earl wouldn't even pay us our expenses from London after what happened last night.”

I fished in my petticoat, found my purse, and gave her some shillings for to buy ale. “If I send for you to come, or if the Queen asks you about what you've told me, then you can explain what happened. Otherwise say nothing to anyone, especially not to Sir William Cecil's men, do you understand?”

Rosa nodded and stood looking at the shillings in her hand. “I promise,” she whispered.

Ellie had warmed towards her. She patted Rosa's
back, “You watch,” she said. “My lady will sort it all out for you, see if she don't.”

Rosa smiled back at her, and I felt quite nervous to think that she was relying on me.

Ellie and I went back up to the castle, where we could hear the
thuddity-thud
of horses' hooves and the ringing crash of lances breaking. We slipped in at the side of the benches where everyone was watching the jousting. It had only just started—there must have been an amazing amount of speechifying between the Earl of Leicester, as the Champion of May, and his friend Henry Carey, the Queen's cousin, as the Black Knight of Melancholy, before the jousting proper began.

Ellie went down to the standing areas behind the barriers to watch with the other servants, and I came here to sit with the other Maids of Honour.

Mary very kindly brought my embroidery bag out for me—she finds jousting boring and is still knitting away at the baby's jacket. But I've been sitting scribbling in my daybooke to record all my discoveries before I forget anything. As soon as the Queen withdraws, I will go to her and explain that perhaps Sir William Cecil is connected to all the accidents which have occurred.

I have bolted down supper as quick as I could to write this—now we are sitting in the Hall to watch a play by Terence in Latin. The Queen is laughing at the jokes and so are some of the courtiers, but I don't know enough Latin to understand.

It was a wonderful afternoon's joust. The Swedish Prince did very well—he not only beat the Black Knight of Melancholy; he beat the Earl himself as well, by two lances broken to the Earl's one. And so he got the prize, which was a very rich horse's harness and caparison. The Earl was furious and Henry Carey wasn't too pleased, either. Now the English gentlemen are sulking and the Swedish gentlemen are crowing.

After the joust, the Queen withdrew to her chamber to rest and deal with more papers of State. I followed her, and Ellie came along as well. The guard at her door waved me away when I tried to go in, and so I said loudly, “But the Queen bade me speak only to her in this matter.”

I heard Her Majesty's voice then. “Let her enter,” she ordered.

I left Ellie at the door and went in. I found the
Queen sitting with her feet up on a footstool, and her stays unlaced, poring over a legal document.

After I'd curtsied, I told her exactly what Rosa had said and what I'd found out about the double ale, and who had brought it.

The Queen frowned when she heard it was one of Sir William Cecil's men. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Where is the firework master's daughter?”

“I can send for her at once, if Your Majesty pleases,” I said, thinking I could ask Ellie to fetch her.

“Please do,” the Queen replied. “And then wait in the anteroom until I send for you both.”

As I left to find Ellie, the Queen called the gentleman who was guarding her door and ordered him to fetch Sir William. Then she waited, tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair, her face cold and angry.

I went into the little anteroom where servants wait, and found Ellie there petting the Queen's dogs.

“Please go and fetch Rosa for me,” I said. “The Queen has just sent for Sir William Cecil.”

Looking very serious and excited, Ellie nodded and then ran out the door.

I waited and waited, putting my ear to the door of the Queen's chamber every so often. Mrs.
Champernowne says eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves—but sometimes you just
have
to know what's happening.

At last I heard Sir William Cecil's voice. “I am very glad you sent for me, Your Majesty, as I have just had another dispatch—”

“That can wait, Mr. Secretary,” the Queen interrupted frostily. “I would first desire to hear what you know of the accidents of yesterday.”

“Terrible carelessness,” said Cecil. “I understand the groom that neglected your saddle when preparing for the hunt has been demoted by my Lord of Leicester, and—”

“Someone had cut the stitching with a sharp knife,” the Queen interrupted again.

“Good heavens!” Cecil exclaimed.

“And the statue, Cecil,” the Queen went on, “had been tampered with. And as for the firework that went off course—someone brought the firework master drugged ale to drink. While he was asleep, the miscreant came in the guise of a merman, and lit the fuses so that one of the rockets nearly hit me and did in fact injure one of the tumblers. And so he was well-nigh a murderer—in that he was reckless of the consequences of his actions—as well as a traitor.”

“I am horrified …,” Cecil gasped.

“Cecil, do you know who sent that ale?” the Queen demanded abruptly.

“No, Ybur Majesty,” Cecil replied.

“I find that strange, since it came from you and was brought by one of your liverymen.” The Queen's tone was as sharp as a sword blade. It was terrifying.

“What? I never sent ale to a firework master! Wh-why should I do so? I—I am n-not—” Cecil was stammering.

“Silence!” roared the Queen. “I do not believe you have been directly endangering me. But it is possible you have been engineering accidents to discredit my dear Robin, the Earl of Leicester.”

I was fascinated. I peered through the crack in the door and saw Cecil as white as a sheet. “I would never—” he began.

“Have you been trying to make me doubt the Earl, and believe he is becoming careless of my safety, so that I would turn my eyes to the Swedish Prince and like him the better for saving me? It would make sense, would it not, Cecil?”

There was silence. Then I heard the thud of Cecil's knees on the floor.

“Your Majesty”—his voice sounded choked, genuinely devastated—“I would never … I have never—”

“The ale for the firework master was delivered by a lad who wore your livery,” rapped out the Queen.

“But it was not sent by me or
from
me,” said Cecil, his voice strengthening. “I utterly deny this accusation, “Your Majesty. I know not who has been speaking against me—”

“Not against you, no, for she barely knows the significance of what she tells me,” said the Queen.

“
She?
Hmph. Some foolish hysteria no doubt—”

“Enough!” the Queen snapped.

Ellie panted into the antechamber with Rosa behind her—her face washed and her white cap tied on tightly. She looked terrified, as well she might.