The Tudor Vendetta (12 page)

The question was: How?

Turning these ruminations over in my mind like a puzzle without a key, I failed to notice the door to my room stood ajar. When I did, I slid to a precipitous halt, unsheathing my poniard. Had I failed to latch it in my haste to follow Cecil? Reaching out, I eased the door open, braced for an attack. It had happened before. I peered inside to find a well-dressed woman with her back to me, waiting.

My heart leapt in my throat, my grip on my dagger tightening convulsively. She wore a coif with a long veil, her shoulders rigid. Shelton’s voice tumbled in my head—
You cannot chase a shade
—and I found myself whispering under my breath like an incantation, “It cannot be, it cannot be,” even as I took a step forward, ready to plunge my blade into her heart.

The echo of my words or clack of my heel on the threshold caused her to turn around. I heaved relief as her hand came up, lifting her veil. It was Kate, only she wore an unfamiliar elaborate gown, its heavy fur-lined sleeves and pearled hem marking her as one of the royal attendants. Like everyone else who shared Elizabeth’s inner sanctum, she looked in dire need of rest, her gaze embedded in pockets of shadow as she said, “Brendan! You startled me.”

“As you did me.” I sheathed my blade, tasting bile. “I could have knifed you.”

“Yes, I … I did not think to warn you. I heard you were with the queen and did not want to intrude. It seemed … important.”

“It was.” I tried to keep my anger from my voice as I shut the door. I wanted to berate her for lurking in my lodgings like this, risking a blade in her back before I realized my mistake, and yet simultaneously welcomed the very sight of her. She was here. It must mean she had not intended what she said in the stables, or, if she intended it, she had found cause to regret it, which only told me she had indeed done it solely at Cecil’s behest.

Her next words were not about us, however. “She is sending you away, isn’t she, to find out what happened to Lady Parry?”

I went still. “How … how do you know? Were her ladies eavesdropping?”

She flinched. “Only me. She had me bring Urian from the kennels and wait for her in her chamber. I have served her long enough to know when she is worried about something, and Lady Parry had been absent longer than expected. It did not require much to deduce that something may have happened to her. Then, you returned to court.”

“I see.” I swallowed, softening my tone. “I cannot tell you anything, Kate. I gave her my word. Besides, I don’t know anything yet.”

“But you know enough to assume it could be dangerous.” She remained rooted to her spot. “And if so, then you mustn’t go about it alone.”

I said quietly, “I can fend for myself,” and she stepped so close that the very scent of her—of clean soap, for Elizabeth deplored cloying perfumes—overwhelmed me. I could not speak, could barely breathe, as she said, “For all your skill, you are still a fool. Like most men, you think when a woman is angry she loses her reason. This isn’t about my doubting you.
She
is the one I doubt.”

I lifted my gaze. She must have read my intent, for she drew back abruptly, as if in belated cognizance of our proximity, her skirts brushing against my legs, her breath quickening visibly, swelling her breast against her tight-laced bodice.

I said quietly, “You should not say such things about her,” and I too stepped away, the erratic beat of my heart loud in my ears. The moment between us was extinguished, like a candle guttering in its own wax.

“I do not ask you to confide in me,” she said. “Only, that you confide in someone.”

“Such as…?” I already knew what she would reply.

“Cecil. You cannot depart court without advising him. He has placed his entire trust in you. He thinks of you as his own—”

“Slave,” I cut in. “He thinks of me as his vassal, beholden to him in all things. Is that why you are here? Did he send you after me to do his bidding, like he sent you yesterday to the stables?”

To her credit, she did not try to deny it. “He did ask me to listen in on your talk with her. I have not told him anything. I came to you first because you are blind where she is concerned, though her business is always more complicated than it seems. She never tells the entire truth if she can avoid it, and what she does not tell often ends up costing someone their life. First it was her brother, Edward; then poor Peregrine—”

“Don’t.” I thrust up my hand. “Elizabeth … she had nothing to do with his death.”

“Yes, she did.” Kate’s voice was unflinching. “She may not have known what would befall him but she never told you or Cecil everything you needed to know about her dealings. He sent you to court to safeguard her, not knowing she was neck-deep in intrigue.” She searched my eyes. “How long will you continue to do whatever she asks, without paying the consequences? How long before you give your own life to save hers?”

Her stark honesty took me aback, though it should not have. Kate knew Elizabeth’s ways; when we had first met,
she
had been the spy, ferreting out secrets for the embattled princess. She only spoke the truth as she saw it. Elizabeth indeed thrived on evasion, but never without some risk to her own person. And while I would not admit it to Kate, something ominous did hover over Lady Parry’s disappearance, though I was confident that no matter what she may have withheld, Elizabeth’s distress in this case was genuine.

“I appreciate the concern.” I turned deliberately to fling open the lid of the clothes chest. “And if I need Cecil’s help, I’ll ask for it.” I did not look up as I spoke, yanking out my belongings and strewing them on the cot, the knot in my throat threatening to choke me. It seemed impossible we could have reached this impasse: locked in confrontation after all the passionate hopes we had shared. “You must not tell him what you know, either,” I added, though it was unjust, insulting, to suggest she might. “You too swore an oath of loyalty to your queen.”

“My God. Do you think so little of me?” she said, and I heard her step to the door. “I will tell him nothing. But you are still mistaken to think he is your enemy.”

I clenched a fistful of folded hose. “How can you say that to me, after everything he has done?”

“Because no matter what he may have done, he did not do this to us.”

I went still. Paralyzing fear swept through me. Did she
know
? I made myself focus on her expression. She had gone imperturbable, as if a stony mask had slipped over her features. I could not tell if she had somehow sensed the betrayal lurking behind our estrangement, though I had not told anyone of the terrible night when, crushed by my grief, I surrendered to Sybilla’s seduction. I had buried it under a morass of guilt, distanced myself from it with the adage that it would serve nothing to confess now, that what I had done must go with me to my grave. The pain of it now made me want to roar like a caged beast that Cecil was indeed my enemy. He had put me in the position of having to forfeit any right I had to Kate’s heart, to lay claim to her and dream of an ordinary life; and he had profited by it. It suited him to see me unencumbered, to sever any ties I had outside his interests so he could tighten the tether, as he might on a falcon he had trained to kill. I had become another weapon for him to exploit.

“If you believe that,” I told her, “it is you who makes the mistake. He has only one goal: to see Elizabeth on her throne, regardless of the cost.”

“Then you’ve more in common with him than you think.” She reached for the latch. “I hope you heed my advice, if only for her sake. Yorkshire is still loyal to the old faith; many there are not happy she is queen and will not welcome a man of hers in their midst. You will be far from court and her protection, too far to send warning or request for help. Should something happen to you, who can she trust to send after you, a spy sworn to secrecy, whose mission is known only to her? You will disappear without a trace.”

She did not await my response. Opening the door, she departed, her footsteps fading away, leaving me more alone than I had ever felt.

Chapter Nine

After shoving my clothes into my saddlebag and strapping on my sword, I made my way to the stables, where I saddled Cinnabar and paid the groom more than enough to ensure at least his temporary silence. We cantered furiously out of Whitehall under a darkening sky.

Flurries of icy sleet stung my face like needles. The weather had turned foul, the morning’s clarity subsumed by an incoming storm, and as I rode, I welcomed the chill seeping into my marrow. I did not want to dwell on the implicit accusation in Kate’s words, the charge that I had once again chosen to risk my personal safety for Elizabeth.

I hated to admit that to some extent, Kate was right: To venture alone to the north on a secret assignation was reckless. If whoever had taken Lady Parry was the same person who sent the poisoned box, I could not fail in my task, as more than just Lady Parry’s safety hung in the balance. Should something befall me, whom could Elizabeth turn to?

Still, I had not fully acknowledged what I was about until I found myself riding down Tower Street to the Griffin, reining outside the door. Tethering Cinnabar to the hitching post, I stalked into the tavern. The clammy smell of spilt ale and dissipated smoke greeted me; in the dismal gloaming of the storm brewing outside, the tavern resembled what it was—a seedy establishment with warped plank flooring, daub walls stained with grease, stools stacked on the scarred tables like pitted mushrooms, as though rats had been gnawing at them with tiny teeth.

I came to a halt. The Griffin might be tawdry, a watering hole for dockhands, whores, and laborers, yet at least here was a place someone called home, while I, with my king’s sword and expensive clothes, my royal favor and enviable repute, had nowhere of my own.

Shaking aside my contemptible self-pity, I called out. From behind the hutch, young Tom stumbled into view, his mop of hair askew, grimy hands rubbing at his sleep-swollen eyes. He gasped. “Your … your lordship—”

“No lordship today, lad. Just me. Where is your master?”

“Upstairs, still abed.” Tom looked anxiously to the door. “Was it unlocked?”

“Well, I am no ghost,” I replied dryly, and he let out a moan. “I forgot! Mistress Nan told me last night to bolt it but I forgot. Please, my lord”—he clasped hands before him in supplication—“don’t tell her. She’ll kick me out and I have nowhere else to go.”

His plea cracked the hardening shell inside me. Looking at his thin, disheveled person, oversized breeches hitched about his skinny waist with a bit of twine, revealing dirty ankles above ill-fitting shoes he must have stolen from some corpse, I saw my lost squire again. Peregrine had also been obliged to fend for himself until I hired him, an anonymous piece of gristle for the court to devour. Bowing my head, I said with a catch in my voice, “Do not worry, boy, I won’t tell.” I looked toward Shelton’s empty chair. “Where’s his ugly dog?”

“Crum?” Tom shrugged. “Upstairs, too; he follows the master everywhere.”

“So much for guarding the establishment,” I muttered. I could not look into his eyes for too long. Memories of Peregrine threatened to engulf me as I rummaged in my purse, tossing out a coin. “See that my horse isn’t stolen,” I told him.

He eagerly scurried out, heaving the tavern door shut. Its closure echoed in the empty room; as I stood there, uncertain, thinking I had made an error in coming here and should just make for the North Road before the storm struck, I heard the dull thud of footsteps. Moments later, a heavy clamber down the staircase preceded Shelton in a rumpled shirt, his thick, veined legs bare and limping under the hem, one visibly deformed and shorter than the other. He brandished a cudgel as he peered suspiciously at me with his one good eye. At his side, Crum growled, baring discolored stumps of teeth.

I yanked off my cap.

“Lad.” Shelton lowered the cudgel. “Rather soon for another visit. Missed us that much, did you?”

Nan sidled around him, clutching a shawl to her throat. Silver-threaded hair escaped her flattened hood. Despite her evident anxiety that an intruder had broken into the tavern, the telltale blush in her cheeks made me grin.

“Do I disturb you?” I said.

“Not at all,” she declared, more loudly than required, betraying that I had. “We were just waking. The hour … it got away with us.” She scowled. “Good thing you returned when you did. That slattern Alice was supposed to be here by now, to scrub the hearths. And where is good-for-nothing Tom? I told him to—”

“I sent him outside to mind my horse. He opened the door for me.” I met Shelton’s eye as I spoke; his expression shifted, indicating he had read my unvoiced purpose.

“Hungry?” he asked. I nodded, sending Nan straight to the kitchen. Shelton set the cudgel aside. “I’ll be a moment. You wait here and break your fast.” He trudged back up the stairs, leaving Crum to stare balefully at me. “Don’t mind him,” Shelton called out. “He won’t attack unless I tell him to.”

I was hardly reassured. Though the dog’s teeth looked fit only for gnawing boiled meat, fending him off would still be an unpleasant experience. Easing a stool down from the nearest table, I sat cautiously. With a snort, Crum lowered himself onto the staircase landing and broke wind.

Nan returned with a tray. She winced. “God save us, he feeds that cur too much.” She set the tray before me: a tankard of small-beer, carter’s bread, and a bowl of porridge. “I haven’t been to the market yet, and they ate us out of everything last night. The winds: No one could do much work on the docks, so every lazybones ended up here. Not that there’s much to choose from at the market these days,” she added, “what with the whole country in the poorhouse: The harvests have been terrible and we’re lucky to find decent turnips, let alone much else. But, I have my sources.”

“This is fine, thank you.” As I reached for the food, she planted her hands on her hips and glared. “I assume this isn’t a friendly waking call? Not that we’re not delighted to see you, but you were just here.” She paused, waiting. When I did not answer, she harrumphed. “Just as I thought. You’ve come to drag him off into more mischief.”