The Rogue's Princess (26 page)

He tore up his shirt and used it to bind his chest, moving awkwardly as there was not an inch that hadn’t been bruised.

The worst was that he could do nothing – send no word to their friends, offer no comfort to Mercy. All he could do was pray.

He went down on his knees in the filthy straw and clasped his hands. ‘Remember me, Lord?’ Not the best start to a desperate prayer, but he wagered that Mercy’s faithfulness carried a little credit over to his account. ‘I pray your pardon for not talking to you of late.’ For six years to be precise. ‘But if you would watch over her and get Mercy free of this place, I will …’ What could he use to bargain with an all-powerful God? The idea was absurd. But God had to have a special place in his heart for Mercy – He had to or there was no justice in the world. ‘I will be eternally grateful.’

Feeling foolish, but a tiny bit relieved, Kit got to his feet and resumed his pacing.

The warder was back. Oh, God; oh, God. Mercy hunched in a corner, hoping he would not stay long.

‘Come, Mistress Cherry Pie, there are some kind gentlemen here to talk to you.’

Knowing she had no choice, Mercy rose and smoothed her skirts, feeling with fingertips to make sure that her hair was decently covered.

‘You look pretty enough for their lordships. Come with me.’

With a firm hand on Mercy’s back, he propelled her along the corridor to his office. Three officials robed in black sat behind his table. The warder took his place at the door behind her.

Mercy bobbed a curtsy, not daring to speak first.

‘Mercy Hart?’

‘Aye, sir.’ Her voice was a whisper.

‘Your father is John Hart, mercer?’

Mercy nodded.

‘We need your answer, mistress, for the record.’ The man in the centre gestured to his colleague on his right hand side, the one who was making notes of the interview.

‘Yes, my lords.’

‘You have come to our attention as you have been visiting a certain prisoner – his only visitor according to the warden.’

‘I see, sir. How … how may I help you?’

‘By answering our questions. What would you say were your beliefs, mistress?’

Mercy remembered the schooling her father had given her in this against the day persecution should return to these shores and turn on the reformers. ‘I believe, I trust, as our gracious sovereign, the Queen believes.’

The men nodded, well satisfied. None could argue with that.

The man on the left gave her an avuncular smile. ‘This must all be very confusing for you, a decent Christian girl caught up in this sorry business.’

‘What business is that, sir? Forgive my ignorance, but I do not understand why you wish to speak to me.’

The warder shifted on his feet, but the man on the right
shook his head. The official in the centre looked down at a piece of paper before him.

‘You are sixteen?’

‘Aye, marry, sir, I am.’

‘Why do you come to see the prisoner, Christopher Turner?’

Mercy glanced at the more sympathetic of the three men. He was watching her closely. ‘We are betrothed, sir.’

‘You wish us to believe that you, a God-fearing maid, is like to be wed to a player?’

She looked down. ‘We do not have my father’s agreement to the match, sir.’

The notetaker snorted and muttered something under his breath.

‘And you carry no messages for him out of this prison? He has not asked you to communicate with any of his confederates?’

Mercy was relieved she could answer honestly. If the question had been differently phrased she would not have been able to be so forthright. ‘Nay, my lord, on my honour, I carry nothing out. I know of no such confederates.’

The notetaker was somewhat shrewder than his companions. ‘And what do you carry in, mistress?’

‘Mainly pies,’ she replied. ‘The warder here likes fruit, but has a taste for savoury ones on occasion.’

The three men frowned at the gaoler.

‘Good my lords, I have to test them before handing them on to the prisoner,’ the gaoler protested, ‘in case she smuggles messages or weapons to the man.’

‘And has she tried to do so?’ snapped the questioner in the middle.

‘Nay, sir. Just wholesome cooking, nothing else – or I would have told you.’

‘Hmm.’ The official stroked his fingers down the length of a quill lying on the table before him. ‘Have you ever heard your betrothed mention one Babington?’

Mercy could tell from the alertness in their bearing that they had come to the nub of the matter. ‘Nay, sir.’

‘Pilney or Gage?’

‘Nay, sir, we don’t talk much when we are together.’ She didn’t mean it to sound as it did, but perhaps her misspeaking was for the good. The three gentlemen all looked down and smiled, doubtless filling in for themselves what the two youngsters did to pass their time together. She blushed, letting them think what they liked of her if it would help Kit.

‘He’s a fine-looking man, some would say. Is he ambitious?’ asked the man in the centre.

‘Aye, sir.’

They looked up, interested pricked.

‘I think he wishes to take the lead in the next new play to be put on at the Theatre. And marry me, of course.’ She looked down at her red shoes peeping out from under her skirts.

‘Humph!’ the notetaker said, clearly dismissing her as empty headed and Kit for a vain fool.

The man in the centre turned to his brethren. ‘Are we finished here, my lords?’

As they were conferring, there came a pounding on the entry to the prison.

‘Open up! Open up!’ roared a man. ‘Stanton, I’ll have your guts for my garters if you don’t give me back my daughter!’

The official in the centre raised his eyebrow at that. ‘Warder, I think you had best go let the man in before he starts dismantling your defences with his bare hands.’

In a moment, the warder was back with John Hart pacing at his side. Seeing Mercy standing in the centre of the chamber, her father pushed past the gaoler and seized her in a punishing hug.

Mercy, you foolish child, what muddle have you got yourself in now?’ he asked, giving her a shake. ‘Are you well?’

Four others clustered into the room behind Hart: Alderman Belknap, Reverend Field, Silas Porter and Edwin.

‘Sirs,’ began the alderman, ‘I can vouch for Mercy being a good girl. The minister here has known her since a baby and will tell you the same. I think you have the wrong party if you suspect her of anything.’

The man in the centre tucked his papers away in a leather folder. ‘I’m happy to tell you that the young lady is not suspected of anything, but being too good a cook for the warder to turn away. We were about to let her go. Gentlemen, we are agreed?’

The two men flanking him nodded.

‘Aye, marry, let the girl go.’ The notetaker blotted his copy. ‘I fear she’ll have enough punishment for her foolishness if she marries the man.’

‘And what of Kit?’ Mercy plucked up the courage to ask. ‘Master Turner, I mean.’

Her father huffed impatiently into her hair.

The notetaker drew a letter from a leather wallet. ‘Now we’ve struck you from our enquiries, young lady, thinking you the last possibility of a connection to … er … another
matter, my lord Burghley has given us instructions to release the fellow. We are satisfied that he is no longer of interest to the Crown and, fortunately for him, being a foolish player is not a hanging offence. He is bound over to keep the peace, but otherwise free to go.’

Mercy tugged at her father’s doublet. ‘Please, Father, may we have him fetched and take him with us?’

‘It seems that I can’t stop you getting your way where that young man is concerned. Warder, will you bring him to us? Here’s for your pains.’ John Hart flipped the man a coin.

Mercy resented any more going into that beast’s pocket, but she knew better than to rock the boat at this stage, not when they were so close to getting free.

‘I’d best go with him,’ volunteered Silas, sizing up the man. ‘In case he forgets his way.’

The three officials were showing themselves out as Kit was brought into the room. Hand clasped painfully to his side, he blinked in surprise at the gathering. He made a sorry sight: one blackened eye, a swollen jaw and bruises marring his skin, but to Mercy he was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Easing away from her father, who reluctantly let her go, she flew to him.

‘Oof!’ Kit gasped as she collided with his midriff. ‘Easy, love, I’m a bit tender there. Are you well? Not hurt by him?’ He flicked a vicious look at the gaoler.

She shook her head.

‘So why’s everyone looking at us like this?’

A quick survey of the room told her that Silas and the alderman appeared amused, Edwin resigned and her father stoic. Mercy leant away to tell him the good news.

‘We’re free, Kit. Neither of us is the least bit of interest to the Crown.’ And in case he still didn’t understand, she repeated, ‘We can go.’

He whooped with joy, tried to spin her round, but unfortunately his injuries made him drop her after only half a circle. Never mind: they were leaving.

‘Then let us bid farewell to this pleasant hostelry before anyone changes their mind.’ He gathered her to his side, leaning on her shoulder for support.

John Hart didn’t agree with Kit on much, but he seconded the player in this. ‘Aye, we’ll go home and get you cleaned up a bit. Looks like you’ve got some nasty cuts there that need tending.’

Mercy raised an eyebrow at her father’s change of heart towards Kit.

‘Good Samaritan and all that,’ mumbled her father sheepishly.

‘And may I come home too, Father?’ she asked.

‘Aye. The past few days have fair killed me. I can’t seem to stand having you from home, no matter if you deserved it. Come back to the Bolt of Cloth, Mercy.’

‘And Grandmother will paddle you if you keep me away much longer.’

He gave a weary chuckle. ‘Aye, there is that.’

19

Word spread quickly through Southwark of the imprisonment of the youngest Hart child, bringing Rose hurrying to the bridge house to offer Faith and her mother comfort while they anxiously awaited news of Mercy. Silas went in the opposite direction, heading for the gaol to see what aid he could offer there. Ann arrived soon after, telling them that her father had gone to support John Hart in his demand for Mercy’s release.

‘I doubt they’ll keep her, not with the man most likely to be the next Lord Mayor breathing down their necks,’ Ann said confidently, revealing what Rose had long suspected: Master Belknap was destined for high office.

The women’s quiet time together was interrupted by the arrival of no less a person than the Earl of Dorset, accompanied by James and Tobias.

‘That’s all we need,’ huffed Rose as Faith stirred herself to get out the best glasses.

‘Hush, Aunt, they come to help Mercy,’ chided her niece.

For once, Rose did not resent Faith’s correction for she could see that she was right. The three noblemen looked ready to saw through the bars of the prison themselves if John’s
mission proved fruitless. And they were keeping her mother happy: she looked in heaven to have three such fine gentlemen in her presence. Any moment now, Rose predicted, they were going to be importuned for kisses.

Conversation travelled a rocky road over the next half hour; so wide a gulf separated the two families that Ann struggled to bridge the divide, and found that few congenial topics could be mustered. Everyone’s mind in any case was on what was happening at the Marshalsea. It was a relief to all when voices were heard outside. Rose could distinguish Silas’s deep bass among the lighter tones.

‘It’s them.’ She rushed to the door and flung it wide. ‘Silas, John, what news?’

She had her reply when she saw Mercy supporting a battered Kit. The pair came into the room to the cheers of the Lacey brothers.

‘Here she is – the heroine of the hour!’ Then the earl astonished the company by kneeling before Mercy’s feet and kissing her hand. ‘You have our deepest thanks, lady.’

James elbowed his elder out of the way to offer the same gesture of respect. ‘Our brother is a lucky man.’

Tobias, who now knew Mercy somewhat better after their conspiring on his brother’s behalf, risked Kit’s wrath by kissing her soundly on the cheek. ‘Ask me anything in my power to give and it is yours.’

‘Tell him to go jump in the river,’ growled Kit.

‘I understand your feelings entirely,’ said Tobias, standing shamefaced in front of the brother that had suffered for him. ‘But I want to thank you first for your steadfastness, Kit, under what looks like rough handling.’

Kit waved it away despite the very clear evidence of his mistreatment. ‘’Twas nothing, sprout.’

‘Now for my dip in the Thames.’ Tobias made as if to run to the window.

Laughing, Mercy pulled him back. ‘Nay, that won’t be necessary. This was a mad business; I’ve no doubt you have paid for your part in it with sleepless nights.’

Tobias winked at Kit. ‘She’s much kinder than you, brother.’

Kit smiled down affectionately at his love’s head. ‘Aye, much more merciful than I. There must be something in the name.’

John Hart moved to restore some sort of control over his own house. ‘My lords, as you can see, we have no need of your intervention, but I had not realized quite how closely the matter concerned you.’

The earl offered his hand to his brother and shook it warmly. ‘Welcome back, Kit. Aye, this one here is of our blood, Master Hart – a most worthy sprig of the stock from the evidence of his bearing in the last months. You must understand, sir, that he was always blameless in the business. My younger brother fell in with a bad lot for a few weeks before being rescued by Kit. Sadly, that kind act exploded in his hands like a faulty musket, suspicion falling where it was least warranted.’

James folded his arms, surveying the young couple. ‘I’ve never seen such a pair of turtle doves cooing and billing over each other, and this the brother who always swore there was no such thing as love.’

Mercy turned shocked eyes to Kit. ‘Did you in sooth?’

He tapped her nose. ‘I just hadn’t met the right maiden. I
will burn all my cynical sonnets and from henceforth write only love songs.’