Kathryn Kramer (7 page)

"God's bones!" he exclaimed, the corners of his mouth tightening into a smile.  It was all going to be so incredibly easy.  All he had to do was to wait until the others were asleep and then make his move.

With the exception of the players, only a few other travelers sought the quarters of the inn and they were safely ensconced in the taproom, drinking their wine and ale.

Standing in the doorway,
Nicholas watched and waited. 

"You've got that sparkle in your eyes.  I know what you are thinking." 

Nicholas was startled as Murray came upon him.  "You know what I am contemplating?"  How could he unless the little old man could read minds?

"You are nearly as hungry as I, but I've been told the food is good here."

"Food?"  Nicholas sighed in relief.  "I'm famished." 

That was not a lie.  He was.  Following
Murray to the tables he took a seat beside him.  It would be a good idea to eat all that he could while he had the chance.  Once upon the road he might not have the opportunity for a proper meal.  So he indulged himself, taking little time for conversation.

After a hearty meal
, the members of the Lord Chamberlain's men departed one by one to their rooms,  Murray and Will being  the last to leave. Lingering behind, Nicholas watched stealthily  as the lights in their rooms were extinguished, leaving the inn in darkness.  Gathering the folds of his cloak close about him, he moved towards the door with all the furtiveness of his desperation.

Chapter Nine

Like the others in the group Alandra was bone tired, yet even so she was unable to sleep. Why hadn't she revealed to Will everything she knew?  Why hadn't she voiced aloud her suspicion that Christopher "What's His Name" may have killed a nobleman of the court?  Why hadn't she told Will that at this very minute the newcomer was being sought?  Why hadn't she shouted out a warning?

Will
had known Alandra since she was just a little girl and she had always confided in him.  He had taught her to read, had tutored her for a time as a favor to Murray who had wanted his daughter schooled.  Out of their acquaintance a deep friendship had blossomed and second only to her father, Alandra trusted Will more than any man she knew.  Why then had she kept silent?

What if Christopher Nicholas
had
killed Lord Woodcliff?  Her father had mumbled such a suggestion when first he had laid eyes upon the intruder in their wagon.  Then the scoundrel had charmed him with his tale of being an actor.  What if her father’s first suspicions were true?  What if Christopher had killed that poor old lord in cold blood just so he could run away with his wife? It made sense, did it not? Certainly it would be a good reason for him to pretend to be an actor.  The traveling players offered him a perfect way to escape.

She should turn him in!
If he were wanted by the queen, and if he were found among the players, they could all be in trouble. Will deserved to know that. It was her duty to tell him .  Why hadn't she then

Rising from her bed,
she hurried to dress and opened the door of her room.  She would go talk to Will and put the matter to him.  He would give her good advice.  Hadn't he always? Alandra did in fact feel more at ease just knowing she was going to tell Will all that she knew.  As she stepped through the doorway, however, she spotted Christopher down the hall.

What was he up to?
  So, he couldn't sleep either. Or was there more to it than that?  Was he a sleepwalker?  She doubted it.               

Hastily she stepped back, ducking b
ehind her door and peeking out so that he would not know that he had been spotted.  Why was he acting so strangely?  With his mantle pulled about him, he was glancing hurriedly from side to side as if he were afraid of being caught in some foul deed.  He was acting so secretive.  What could he be about?  Alandra decided to follow him and find out.

Nicholas whirled around, searching the shadows.  He could have sworn he heard something.  He didn't see anyone
, but he was doubly cautious as he ran down the stairs and pushed through the front door.  He ran towards the stables, which loomed before him in the moonlight, goaded on by the thought that now he'd have a precious horse and would enact his escape.  Slipping through the opening, he pulled the door shut and caught his breath while waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

It was quiet, only the nickering and pawing hooves of the horses distu
rbed the stillness.  Nicholas did not hear any human sounds.  Unlike the larger towns where a hostler cared for each horse in wistful expectation of a large tip, here each owner was responsible for his own mount's care.  The stable was deserted.  So much the better.

He dared not light even a candle
, lest he attract unwelcome attention, thus Nicholas chose the nearest horse he came to, a dark animal that would blend with the night.  Working in total darkness, he lifted a bridle from its peg on the wall, quickly untangling the straps of the reins.  Calming the horse with soft words, he slipped the headstall over the ears, then pressed the bit against the animal's mouth.

"Be quiet, don't give me away," he crooned, adjusting the straps and buckles with a deft hand.  He was tempted to ride the animal bareback but feared if he did it might warrant undue attention.  Fumbling about for a s
addle, at last locating it, he swung it upon the horse's back.  Bending down, he fastened and tightened the saddle girth with a horseman's competent skill.

Nicholas had not had time to properly arm
himself but he had taken a dagger which had decorated a wall of the inn to use with his sword.  He had been tempted to procure a pistol, but he rarely used such a weapon.  They were cumbersome, unreliable and inaccurate at best, thus he had satisfied himself with the two shining blades.  A man on the run needed arms that he could count upon to protect him.--and money. Thank God he had taken his purse when he had gone to meet Morgana.

He would be in
constant danger, and he would have to be cautious, for there could be travelers on the road who might raise an alarm.  Hopefully, if he were seen, he would not be recognized this far from London.  Still, he wanted no keen-eyed sheriff following on his heels.

Nicholas knew
Stafford would head for Nicholas’s estates, but if fate were with him, he would arrive before that bastard found him.  Stafford had no way of knowing that he had already escaped from London, so perhaps there was a chance.  And even if there wasn't, it would be far better to go down fighting.

"Quietly now," he breathed as he led the horse from its stall and out of the open stable door.  "We have a journey to make, you and I."

It was this sight that met Alandra's eyes as she walked down the thickly foliaged path, following the trail she had seen Christopher take.  His broad shoulders and height gave him away despite the shadows. Christopher Nicholas was stealing a horse!  She would have had to be a fool not to have known what he was doing. 

"The villain!" she gasped softly.  She was stung with anger.  He was a thief!  Despite the kindness her father had displayed
, Christopher was stealing from the acting company. It was but one more crime to be added to his guilt.  A liar, a thief and most likely a murderer too.  For how could she doubt that now?

Alandra watched in outraged silence as he climbed
upon the animal's back. Two thoughts meshed in her brain, the loss of the horse and more importantly that Christopher was fleeing.  Well, she wouldn't let him go!  He wouldn't get away with this.

Without another thought Alandra hurried to the stables and mounte
d one of her father's horses.  Riding bareback, she followed  in pursuit.  Heedless of the danger to herself, she knew only that she  had to bring Christopher Nicholas back!

Chapter Ten

The great hall of Whitehall Palace echoed with the sounds of  laughter, the buzzing of voices whispering the latest gossip, and the chatter of politics, as well as grumblings of a more serious nature concerning Lord Woodcliff’s death.  And  Elizabeth was outraged.  

"Look at her, the unrepentant, adulterous slut!" The Queen's fan fluttered in an ominous tempo as she expressed her ire to
Robert Cecil the son of William Cecil who had been her white-bearded friend and councilor until a stroke a few years ago had made him her advisor in name only. Robert Cecil was slightly deformed with a hunchback, said to be the result of being dropped by his nurse as a babe. With his reddish hair, thin tawny beard and large, pathetic greenish colored eyes, he reminded her of one of the elves of stories she had read. An ingenious elf to be sure. 
Her
elf, as Elizabeth freely called him behind his back.

Robert Cecil
squinted as he looked at the subject of his monarch's dismay.  He clucked his tongue sympathetically.  "Now, now, do not be too hard on her.  She is young and......."

"Young and with the morals as a dockside whore, I would warrant!" 
Elizabeth snorted indignantly, more than a bit miffed that Robert Cecil too had been taken in by the "Widow" Woodcliff's charms.  "It is upon her head that my poor dear Lord Woodcliff's death should be placed, no matter who wielded the sword."

"Upon her head?" 
Robert Cecil started to say something but thought better of it.  There were times when silence ruled the day.

"I want
you to keep an eye on her, Robert!  I do not trust her.  I would have to be a dim-witted knave not to know she is up to something."

"Yes, your Majesty!" 
he said humbly.

Robert
Cecil quickly moved towards the object of her ire.

Although the widow Morgana Woodcliff
wore black,she displayed anything but an attitude of mourning.  Instead she coyly positioned herself at the center of a throng of crooning, attentive men, basking in the glow of their affection as she artfully made use of her supposed grief.  Her admirers quickly scattered, however, as a frowning Elizabeth swept into their midst.

"Get you gone!" she commanded, shooing them away like
chickens.  "I would speak with this.....this woman alone."

In confusion
Robert Cecil started to leave too, but the Queen grabbed his sleeve.

"Not you, Robert
.  You can hear what I have to say."  Elizabeth's eyes closed to slits as she assessed her rival, as radiant as ever even dressed in the dark somber hue.  The black velvet made her hair look all the more golden, her eyes a more pristine shade of blue and brought out the fairness of her skin. 

"You wish to talk with me, your Majesty?"  Morgana Woodcliff's demeanor was
demure as she dutifully bowed her head.

"Where is he?" 
Elizabeth snapped.  Lord Stafford had told her that Sir Nicholas Leighton had vanished and she suspected Morgana was to blame.  It angered the queen that Nicholas hadn't sought her out to throw himself on her mercy.

"Where is who?"  The blue eyes widened with innocence.

"Your lover.  Sir Nicholas!"  Elizabeth's gaze was unwavering as she waited for any facial expression that the young woman knew her handsome courtier's whereabouts, but the face was as stony as a statue.

"I have not laid eyes on him since that wretche
d masque!"  Morgana said, adding quickly, "and he is
not
my lover."

Elizabeth
smiled slightly.  "If that is true, then I can at least credit him with some good sense."  Quickly she became stern again.  "I warn you, Madame.  If you are hiding him or shielding him in any way you will rue it."

"I tell you I have not seen him!"  Morgana Woodcliff clenched her hands tightly together.  Did the queen know that she was at the Black Unicorn that night?  Was she toying with her?  Had
Stafford babbled that information about?  She couldn't be certain.

Slowly
Elizabeth circled the object of her irritation.  "Haven't seen him you say," she said softly.   Oh but the little baggage was good at lying.

"And won't, your Majesty," Morgana declared, looking straight at
Robert Cecil in an obvious attempt to win him to her side.  Certainly  she was peeved at Nicholas for refusing to run away with her and for so thoroughly disappearing without even one word to her as to where he was going.   

Elizabeth
folded her fan,  touching the tip of Morgana's nose with it as she said, "but what a pity.  Then you will not be able to warn him that right at this very moment Lord Stafford is laying a trap for him."

Morgana's icy
hauteur faltered for just a moment.  "A trap?"

Robert
Cecil put his finger to his lips to gesture silence, but Elizabeth blurted it out.

"A cleverly worked out scheme that will bring our wayward ram back into the fold where he can be questioned about your husband's murder and exactly what happened that night.  Exactly what happened!"  
Elizabeth laughed softly.  "Surely you want to see justice done."

"Of course,"  Morgana answered quickly. 

Inside Morgana was seething.  How she hated the interfering old witch!  And feared her as well.  Anxiously she waited, relaxing only when  the queen walked away.   She watched as Elizabeth and her hunchbacked councilor moved across the room.  At last when their attention was diverted by a handsome courtier, Morgana made her move.

Quickly and furtively
, she sought out a man to do her bidding. "Find Nicholas.  Move heaven and earth if you have to, but find him or all is lost."