The Tudor Vendetta (11 page)

He scowled. “That infernal gift seems to have materialized out of nowhere. I’ve had my assistants devise a new system for tracing everything that arrives for her henceforth, and to detain anyone suspicious, but in the meantime we have no clue as to who brought such an abomination into the palace.” He paused before the doors to the royal apartments, clearing his throat. “I’ve been up all night, poring over every possible route in and out of Whitehall, both official and unofficial. All doors and passages not currently guarded are now closed. I also spoke to the queen’s women at length. All swear on their honor that they know nothing; no one approached them or entrusted them with the box. It’s inconceivable that poison could have made its way into the queen’s very own hands without anyone being the wiser, but there you have it.”

Now I understood the reason behind his rigidity. Cecil was horrified. Not a month on her throne and already Elizabeth had come within inches of her death. It was an ominous start to what had been an often dangerous rise to power; she was not yet crowned and we faced an unknown opponent who would most likely strike again. Should she succumb, the crown would devolve on her cousin Mary of Scots, to the papist depredations of France abetted by our own scheming Catholics. On Elizabeth’s narrow shoulders now rested England’s entire future. Without her, this realm would be torn apart.

“Do you know why she asked to see me?” I said, tugging at the edge of my old dark wool doublet. I should not have changed, though it was so early there was no one about to witness an ordinary man in plain fustian, entering the queen’s rooms.

“I do not.” He motioned the granite-faced guards at her doors aside. “I assume she has a purpose. She also insisted on speaking to you alone.” He stared at me. He did not need to add that as soon as I learned this purpose, he expected me to report it to him.

The watching chamber was deserted. I paused, discomfited by the absence of servants. I knew Elizabeth valued her solitude; during our short time together at Hatfield, she had often taken to the gallery to read or walk on her own. All of us who lived with her had sensed how much she needed her time, that a mind such as hers, so nimble yet elusive, so keen, required privacy. Nevertheless, whenever she had asked to see me alone it had been for a reason, and I suspected that I was now about to discover why she had summoned me from Basel to attend her.

A dog’s whine turned me about. “I am here,” she said, her voice issuing as if out of thin air. Looking toward the far window, I saw her draped in shadow, Urian resting at her feet, silhouetted against the wine-dark folds of her robe. As I started to bow, she held up a hand. “There is no need for ceremony, as you can see. We are alone.”

As she stepped forth, I noted her marked pallor, her skin stretched so taut over the angular bones of her face it seemed almost translucent, a blue vein traceable in her brow. Her hair hung loose, her slim waist cinched by the jeweled clasp of her garment. Her sleeves, unstiffened and full, hung like velvet wings to her exquisite hands; other than her royal ring, she wore no jewels. She murmured to the dog and Urian bounded to me, shoving his sleek head into my hand. I ruffled his ears.

“Are you well?” she asked.

“Yes, my lady, as well as can be expected under the circumstances. And you…?”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “I am not ill with worry, if that’s what they think.”

“I do not think it,” I replied.

“No? Cecil thinks I should be, as does that brooding Moor of his, Walsingham, who cut up my spaniel. Had they their way, I’d be rushing about in a panic, ordering departure for Windsor or, better yet, the Tower, where I can lock myself behind stout walls like a prisoner and refuse to see anyone until that madman, whoever he is, is drawn and quartered.”

“Then they did not know you as I do.” I allowed myself a smile, using my hand to settle Urian at my feet. “They do not understand that you never run from a fight.”

She went still, regarding me with that intensity that could make me feel like her most intimate companion or an enemy poised on the jagged edge of her worst reprove. “No,” she said at length. “I have never run. What would be the point? In the end, they always find you. It is not a matter of when but rather how, and who shall disarm whom first.”

I remained silent, watching her walk to a small cabinet, where a decanter, goblet, and stack of papers rested. Urian whimpered again. Unease went through me, reminding me of the impression I had yesterday that she was hiding something.

At the cabinet, she placed her hand on the papers. “You said you were entirely at my disposal. Is that true?” She glanced at me. “Be very sure of your answer. If someone says they are at my disposal, I take them at their word.”

I nodded, even as my heart quickened. She selected one of the papers. “I wish for you to undertake a special assignment for me.”

“Of course, anything your Grace requires.”

“Be careful with what you promise; times past, your labors on my behalf have often led you into danger.”

“Is this one of those times?” I asked warily.

“I sincerely hope not. But of all those who serve me, you are the only one I can trust with it.” She returned to me with the paper—a torn section of a letter, I thought—in her hand. “I need you to travel to Withernsea in Yorkshire as soon as possible.”

For a moment, I did not know how to react. “But that is—”

“About four days from London,” she said, “if you ride a fast horse.”

“Is there any indication the man we seek is there?”

She gave an impatient shake of her head. “This is a private matter.”

“Your Grace,” I said carefully, “I fear I do not understand. Yorkshire is far away and Cecil expects me to investigate the recent attempt against your person, as I witnessed the event and have in the past protected you from those who would do you harm.”

“He may expect it of you, but this is more important—to me.” Her voice trembled. She always kept close hold of herself but whatever was written in that fragment in her hand had perturbed her. “Are you aware that my Lady Parry went to visit her cousin at his manor?”

“Yes, I heard you mention it. I trust it’s not too serious?”

“It wasn’t at the time.” She paused. “I did not care to explain to Cecil and all those others who watch me like hawks that Blanche had received word that her nephew’s wife, Lady Vaughan, had taken with fever. Blanche requested leave to travel to Vaughan Hall near the village of Withernsea; the family has two young children, one of whom had also taken ill. Blanche was worried, so I told her of course she must go. At the time, my sister Mary’s health was failing, but we had no confirmation that her illness would be fatal. I did not want to refuse Blanche leave, given the circumstances.”

It sounded reasonable, if unorthodox, for one of Elizabeth’s favored attendants to have left her side because of a family ailment, but if so, then why the secrecy?

“Blanche must have arrived safely,” Elizabeth went on. “But then…” She went silent again, struggling to contain her emotion, the mysterious paper still clutched in her fingers. After a long moment, she said, “I did not hear from her after she left. I should have inquired; I know that now. But Mary’s health took a turn for the worse and at Hatfield, we were on tenterhooks waiting for her demise. It seemed as if the entire court had abandoned Whitehall to set up camp on my doorstep. When the news finally came of her death—you can imagine the furor: Cecil and his minions at me day and night, with mounds of papers to sign; Mary’s funeral to attend to; the new Council to oversee—it overwhelmed me. It was only after I’d contended with all of it that I belatedly sent word to Blanche that I needed her back at court as soon as possible.”

“Did she respond?” I asked.

“No. I sent my missive with an escort, so she could travel here by litter. I reasoned she must be weary after tending to a sick family and would prefer to be without the burden of riding on horseback. When my escort arrived, Lord Vaughan told them she had left four days prior, accompanied by the children’s tutor, who had some business in London. As soon as Lord Vaughan realized something must have happened, they went in search of her. They eventually discovered her horse, still saddled and wandering the road, but Lady Parry was nowhere to be found. No body; no sign of any struggle. She had vanished.”

Dread crept through me. “What about the tutor?”

“He had disappeared, as well; not even his horse was found. Lord Vaughan assured my escort that he had engaged the man from London to educate their children. He must have been trustworthy, if Blanche went with him. Then, this note was found under her saddle.”

With a visible quiver of her hand, she finally extended the paper to me. It was rain-streaked, its ink smeared, but the boldly written words were clear:

You must pay for the sin.

I looked up. “Do you know what it means?”

“No, but it must be a threat.” She could not hide her fear anymore—a faltering of her self-control that I had rarely seen her display, not even when her dying spaniel thrashed at her feet. She reached abruptly for my hand, another rarity for her. Her fingers were icy. “You must find her. Blanche is my most cherished companion. She has been far more than my chief gentlewoman these past years, for she attended my birth and cared for me when I was but a child, the daughter of a queen everyone wanted to forget. If she had not been there to fight for me, to defend me even against the will of my father, I might not have lived to see this day. She is like the mother I never knew. I cannot abandon her to whatever fate has befallen her.”

I went quiet, restraining my rush of questions.

“Will you help?” she asked.

Even if I had wanted to, I could not refuse. I had sworn to serve her, though I had the disquieting impression there was more here, a tangled skein buried under the surface. Here was another message, albeit not in cipher, coupled with the unexplained disappearance of a woman Elizabeth valued above all others. I had to broach the obvious, and she knew it.

“Do you think the poison attempt is related to Lady Parry?”

“I don’t know. I do not care to contemplate it, but yes, I suppose it is entirely possible.”

I considered. “Cecil will not like it,” I said at length. “You do not wish this matter made public but how can I explain my leaving to him in a way that will not rouse his suspicions?”

“You can leave the explanations to me.” She withdrew her hand, her features hardening into that inscrutable royal guise. “I will tell Cecil I decided to send you elsewhere and he must abide by it, for I shall not be questioned. Besides”—she managed a tremulous smile—“I assume he can manage without you. He has Walsingham now, who seems to me quite determined.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Like a hound after the fox, I can assure you of that.”

“Then we must place our trust in him. Robert took that message yesterday to Dr. Dee’s home in Mortlake; if anyone can decipher it, Dee will. You must leave at once. You will need a map, my letter of introduction, and funds.” She turned back to her cabinet and yanked open a drawer to pull out a small leather folder, rolled into a cylinder and fastened with a cord, as well as a pouch. She was prepared; she had been biding her time, but this was indeed the reason she had called for me. “Here is the map. The funds in the pouch should be sufficient. However, should you need more, you must send to Thomas Parry, who manages my personal accounts. Write by courier to Hatfield; Ashcat is there, tending to the manor. Whatever you do, do not write to me at court. As matters have shown, anything here can be tampered with, so whatever I wish kept private must go through other means.”

“Is that why Mistress Ashley is still at Hatfield? I had wondered at her absence.”

“She knows where I am best served” was Elizabeth’s reply. “Like Blanche Parry, like you and Kate, she obeys my command.” She thrust the purse into my hand. “Go now, before my women arrive. I don’t want them to know you were here.”

Tucking the pouch and folder into my doublet, where it made a noticeable bulk, I met her gaze. Implicit understanding passed between us. I had no idea what perils awaited me on this new errand, but her trust in me cemented my resolve. We had been through worse, and I had found a way through it. I would find a way now. Urian came to his feet. Elizabeth patted her thigh, bringing him back to her side.

“You must take care while I am gone,” I told her. “Promise me. If anything else should occur, if there is even the hint of another threat, you must heed Cecil and depart London at once. The kingdom cannot survive if you are not here to rule it.”

She nodded, impatient. “Yes, yes. I promise. Now,
go.
”

As I stepped to the door, she suddenly said, “Brendan,” and I stopped. “I never thought I would come to rely on you as much as I have, but I need you now more than ever. You must find Blanche before it is too late. Bring her home to me and I shall grant anything you ask. No recompense will be too great for her safe return.”

I inclined my head. “I will do all I can.”

As I turned away, it did not escape me that she had failed to mention what my punishment might be if I failed.

*   *   *

I hurried back to my room, avoiding the courtiers already gathering in the gallery for their daily vigil outside Elizabeth’s doors. Cecil’s grim words came back to me; Elizabeth had become the focus of incessant scrutiny. I wondered how she would contend with it, after having spent most of her life in country manors, left to her own devices save for the occasional foray to court. Already I had sampled a taste of what her new life entailed, the lengths she must go to preserve her privacy. It would not be easy, that much I knew. Much as Elizabeth reveled in attention—she was a Tudor, above all else—she always relished her freedom to seek refuge. She had escaped countless dangers simply because she knew when to retreat.

Now, she had no retreat. There were only sets of doors between her and the exigencies of the world—doors and the service of those trusted few on whom she could rely, which included Blanche Parry. I had witnessed how much Elizabeth depended on Lady Parry during our ill-fated sojourn at Queen Mary’s court and knew Lady Parry for a sensible, middle-aged woman whose devotion to her mistress was unquestioned. She would not have willingly abandoned her duty. Whatever had befallen her had happened against her will, and Elizabeth was no doubt correct in assuming it was she, not Lady Parry, who was the ultimate target. Indeed, the more I dwelled on it, the more it seemed the poisoning incident and Lady Parry’s disappearance must be linked.