Court of Conspiracy (2 page)

Chapter Two

Luke Ballard supposed he ought to be glad that the rain had stopped before dawn. He cursed his wet feet and hose no less than the dense summer fog. One wrong foot and he would end up in the Thames. Joss padded along at his side, her delicate feet picking their way through the long grass. Her master had been gathering medicinal plants since first light, basking in the calm dawn before the relentless barrage that would ensue the instant he raised the shutters. Mistress Tolland, the baker’s wife, would be in for more of his sleep potion and would, no doubt, return to her usual topic of why such a handsome well-set man as Luke, one with his own business, had no wife.

He usually ignored her, but she voiced the opinion of many. It seemed the local goodwives wanted nothing more than to see him in the marriage yoke and the men were anxious that he not escape the toils that had enmeshed them. Mistress Tolland, full of smiles and innuendo, would doubtless have been horrified to learn that Luke believed women to be a source of discord and that her arch smiles and insinuations only reinforced this conviction. He always heaved a sigh of relief when she left the shop, sending up prayers of support for the poor bugger who had been so half-witted as to marry her.

By the time he arrived home, the fog was thinning. He was aware of the tumult from the nearby Tiltyard. Stupid young idiots practicing already. Opponents would gallop out of the mist, giving challengers no time to react. There would be broken heads for him to tend before long. He chewed his lip. He had plenty of arnica, but he hoped his current stocks of elm and plantain would be equal to the demand.

The kitchen fire needed building up. He laid his scrip on a table that bore proof of the remains of many meals, before poking the dying embers and piling it with logs of apple wood. Leftover roast beef sat on the dresser. That, with some bread, cheese and small beer would suffice for his breakfast. First though, he must blend his potions whilst his morning harvest retained its potency. He opened the door leading into the shop.

He had almost reached the counter when he became aware of an uninvited presence. Turning his head to look at Joss, he saw she stood rigid, staring into a dark corner. Following her gaze, Luke could see nothing, but his trust in Joss was total. Greysprings were the most sensitive of the breeds.

“Who is there?” he asked, voice quiet, tone reasonable. Reaching out, he wrapped his hand round a heavy pestle from the shelf, becoming aware of his quickened breathing in the silence. Who knew what manner of thief or cutpurse lay hidden? He looked to Joss for guidance. She remained vigilant—whatever had alerted her was behind the empty gallipots, but she exhibited no signs of hostility.

“Shall I send my dog in to root you out?” he asked, tensing his muscles. It had been years since his fists had lifted in anger, although he was confident he could give a good account of himself should the need arise.

There was a commotion in the corner. The gallipots were thrust to one side and a tall dust-covered figure stood up. It was a girl. Dirty fair hair hung in rats’ tails round a pinched face mired in heaven knew what. The skirts of her wet gown were streaked with street filth. She stood as watchful as a feral dog waiting for an adversary to spring.

After his initial rush of fear, Luke decided that either the gown was not hers or she was starving. His nose told him that she had last bathed long before she had last eaten. The desperation in her eyes sent a shaft of pity through him, but it would not do to lower his guard. He knew firsthand how devious women could be.

“Thieves usually come in the night,” he said at last.

“I am no thief,” she said, her head high. “I needed shelter.” Her accent was not local, and she clenched her teeth to prevent them from chattering with cold. Humanity overcame caution. Here was a soul in need and he could not in all conscience turn her away.

“I have breakfast enough for two. You will find a pump further down near the fleshing house.” He pointed at an inner door. “When you come back I’ll be in the kitchen.”

A few minutes later, Luke noted that his intruder had made a fair job of cleaning her face and hands and tried to make her hair presentable, but the shock of cold water had intensified her shivering. He could see that the gown had once been of excellent quality and wondered what misfortune had brought her to this pass.

“Where am I?” she asked.

“Hampton Court Palace,” he said, nodding to the stool opposite his chair. “Sit down. Eat what you will. The food will warm you.” He put slices of beef in a dish on the floor and Joss ate them with the delicacy common to the greyspring, unlike his human guest who was trying to cram everything in her mouth at the same time, protecting her trencher with a curved arm.

“Take your time, girl. Nobody will steal it, and your stomach won’t thank you for dumping that lot into it half-chewed. I shall be dosing you. What is your name?”

“Philippa Garrod,” she said through a mouthful of bread and honey. “But the old cook used to call me Pippa. Who are you, sir?”

“Luke Ballard, apothecary.”

Her eyes widened. “Do you physick the King?”

Luke burst out laughing. “God’s wounds, no. The royal apothecaries do that, and very thankful I am about it. I do not treat the court, just the poor and the workers. That said, being nearest to the Tiltyard, I do get the occasional noble head to mend.”

“But you know the King?”

“Few know the King and I am no exception, but His Majesty is aware of the existence of those who work within the confines of his palaces, and I expect I am no exception to that, either. Where do you hail from, Mistress Garrod?”

She sat quite still, her eyes wide as if in shock. It took Luke a few moments to realize that she saw nothing of the outward world. He walked toward her, stopping only when Joss moved to stand between them, gazing at him, her head on one side. Then he understood. This girl was in an elemental trance, which meant only one thing. That, like him, she was an elemancer. No dog accompanied her, so it was almost certain her talent was unrecognized.

Luke remembered when his gift had been confirmed by the old Elemagus, Kolby Verrall. His reaction to the news had been mixed. He had been excited and elated that he could perform elemental magic. That had been outweighed by relief that his visions, and the occasional spontaneous combustion of rushlights or his ale becoming hot when he was agitated, was to be expected, his element of affinity being fire.

He frowned, considering the repercussions that might ensue from this girl’s intrusion into his world. Had she been guided to his house by her talent? Had another elemancer sent her here, and if so, why? Would he be expected to train her and hone her skills? He hoped not. He had no desire to change his way of life, being settled and respected by his neighbors. His frown deepened as he pondered the subject of her trance. Logic dictated that a higher power had directed her steps to him, but was that a power for good or evil? Time would tell.

Leaving the connecting door open, Luke tiptoed into his shop, from where he could hear the clash of arms from the Tiltyard only too clearly. Joss would come and tell him when the girl was back from wherever the trance had taken her. He began stripping the leaves from the hemlock and henbane stems, his hands shaking a little. He knew that undiscovered, untrained elemancers existed, but he had never encountered any. And now one had suddenly appeared in his shop. His hand stopped as he considered this further. Surely had she been sent by someone from the
malus nocte
he would have sensed it?

“It must be God’s work,” he said aloud. “I am in need and He has sent me a helpmeet, even if she is a woman. I must give thanks and not question His ways.” He dropped to his knees on the earth floor by the counter and muttered a prayer of heartfelt gratitude.

Luke added oils to the mortar, wondering what the girl’s element of affinity was. He tiptoed back into the kitchen, his eyes flicking around it. She was nowhere near the fire, so it was not that. She was also covered with enough earth to rule that out, too. His eyes dropped to the bucket of water by the stone sink just behind where she sat. Should he move it? He transferred his gaze to her. How old was she? Seventeen? Why was she not married? Or mayhap it was a husband she had deserted. Was she a wraith that had sprung from out of the mist—or something altogether more ominous? His initial reaction, that she had been sent by God, wavered. Few were safe from the strictures of life under the Tudors. Anything not understood or accepted by the authorities rendered the victim liable to a horrible death. Had someone outside the Guild of Elemancers become aware of his talent and sent this girl as a spy to entrap him? He must tread carefully.

Joss padded through to him, wagging her tail. Perhaps his unwanted guest was waking up. He followed the greyspring back into the kitchen and approached the table. Joss made no move to stop him as she would have done had the girl still been entranced. A few seconds later, Pippa’s eyes opened.

“Where am I?”

“Don’t you know?

She sprang up, nearly falling over the bucket, her eyes still befuddled with the remnants of the trance.

“Have no fear, girl. You’re quite safe.”

“My aunt said they would burn me as a witch. She threatened to tell the authorities. That’s why I ran.”

“When you fall asleep like that, what do you see?”

Pippa stared at him, her fingers to her lips, fear and distrust clouding her eyes.

“Does this happen often?” He saw the answer in her face. “Aye? Good.” Luke could not prevent excitement coursing through him.

“What’s good about it?” she asked. “All it’s ever done is get me into trouble.”

“Have you noticed that certain conditions set it off?”

She shook her head.

“When did it last happen?” he asked.

“Yesterday evening when I crossed the river. Why? What is it?”

Luke opened his mouth to explain, but closed it again. He needed to know much more about her before he uttered the word
elemancer
. Mayhap he had already said too much. “Will your family be searching for you?”

“They’re probably on their knees saying masses and prayers to St. Jude and the Sacred Heart of Jesus, grateful that I have gone.”

“Catholics?” asked Luke, his voice sharper.

“Aye. The old religion shines bright for them.”

“And you?”

“They delighted in telling me I would burn in hell for being the daughter of a heretic, if I didn’t burn as a witch.”

“’Tis them will burn, not you. I thank God that King Henry IX follows his mother’s religion.”

The girl brightened. “My mother was a serving maid at Hever when Her Grace met the late King. Aunt Margaret said that Hever was where Mother was corrupted. They call Queen Anne the Great Whore even now.”

“You should report this for your own safety.”

Pippa shrugged. “Who would believe my word against theirs? You seem to know a lot about my...dreams. How?”

“Joss told me you were in a trance. She’s a greyspring. A greyhound mated with a springing spaniel. They have the sight ability of the greyhound and the scent ability of the spaniel.” He clicked his fingers and Joss nuzzled his hand. “She was protecting you.”

“From what?”

Luke cursed himself for a fool. Unused to company, he had allowed his tongue to carry him away. His excitement had betrayed him, and he sensed the girl would keep probing. Joss trusted her, though, and Luke trusted his greyspring implicitly. He also kept in mind that his busy season was almost upon him. When the days grew hot, his shop would be thronged by those whose physical work caused the body to overheat, leading to many minor ailments. The days when the constant drain on his stocks and his energies left him almost unable to string two words together by nightfall. The days when he longed for someone to assist in the shop.

The girl folded her arms. “You may as well tell me.”

He had only moments to make a decision. Was she an ally or his enemy? If the latter, then who had sent her, and how had he been betrayed? If the former, she was indeed an answer to his prayers. His heart beat so fast and loud, he was surprised she could not hear it. He took a deep breath, deciding to trust his instinct and his dog.

“You are an elemancer. We go into trances, see the future, or something that is taking place elsewhere. Anything that disturbs the cosmic balance. Intense emotion or violent action can trigger a vision.” He swallowed as he looked at her disbelieving face. “We have magic skills and use the elements to perform our spells,” he said. “We work through the grace of God for the good of all. Greysprings are the only breed responsive enough to help us. They protect us from harm until we awake. Trances come when they will, and the time is not always propitious.”

“You mean, you’re one as well?”

If she was not a spy, now was the time to frighten her into silence. “Aye, but, mark this. We do not noise it abroad. Elemancers are little known and even less understood. People who can perform magic are regarded with fear and thus at risk. Speak to no one of this. We could end up dead, or worse. Tell me what you saw in your trance.”

The girl was staring at him, her face showing confusion and distrust. Luke read her as easily as he would a leaf of parchment. She thought he was a madman, but he could discern no deception in her. He wondered if her talent had led her to his house. More likely dark magic, his mind insisted. Who was to say she was not a sunderer, come to lure him to destruction? They were the deadliest enemies of elemancers, always seeking to destroy what they had once been before they turned to the dark path, the
malus nocte.
He stayed silent waiting for her to speak and betray herself.

“Same as I have for the last three days. I saw a tall black-eyed man lying in mud.”

“Anything else?”

“No.”

“How was he dressed?”

“I couldn’t see that.” She looked round. “This is a big house for an apothecary, is it not? You’ve even got glass in the windows.”

“God blessed me. I came to my master as an apprentice when he had just lost his wife in childbed. He came from a good family, but none were living when he died. He left me this house.” Luke paused. Part of him still urged caution, but he was more inclined to trust Joss’s reaction to the girl. “I find I cannot manage shop and house by myself. Are you seeking work?”