Spymaster

by Margaret Weis

  King Renaud’s true love was the navy. He brightened at the interest Thomas displayed and was pleased to answer his questions. The two began to discuss naval matters, much to the ire of those awaiting their chance to speak to the king.

  Phillip did not join in the discussion, but instead stood gazing about the room. He felt a light touch on his arm and turned to find the Countess de Marjolaine smiling at him.

  “Have you seen the lake by moonlight, Your Grace?”

  “I have not, Your Ladyship,” he said.

  “Come with me to the balcony,” she said. “The view is best from there.”

  As they walked among the crowd, the countess took his arm and, leaning near, said in languid tones, “I believe you and I have a mutual acquaintance, Your Grace: Sir Henry Wallace.”

  She looked him full in the face and he saw that she knew everything. He was paralyzed with shock. If she had stabbed him in the ribs, he could not have been more surprised. He had been lulled into complacency by her beauty, her fragrance, her lustrous eyes. He had foolishly lowered his guard, she had struck to the heart, and now he had to fall back and try to recover.

  “Sir Henry and I have a passing acquaintance,” Phillip said, matching her languid tone.

  He could tell by the cool set of her lips and the slight increase in pressure of her hand upon his arm that she knew he was lying.

  “People are watching,” said the countess. “Keep smiling.”

  They continued to walk toward the balcony. She nodded and greeted guests. Phillip smiled as ordered, all the while attempting to work out what was going on. The countess had invited him to come with Thomas. Did she plan to expose him? Have him arrested?

  No on both counts, Phillip decided. His arrest would create a huge scandal, outrage the Freyan people, and quite possibly end the marriage negotiations. He considered making some excuse and leaving her, but he needed to know precisely what she knew and so he continued smiling as he walked at her side.

  They had to pass through double glass-paned doors to reach the balcony. Phillip opened the doors, then politely stepped back to allow the countess to walk in front of him. He shivered in the cool night air and realized he was sweating.

  The countess strolled over to the stone railing. He accompanied her and they both stood looking out upon the moonlit lake, feigning enjoyment of a lovely view that neither of them saw.

  “King Renaud holds Prince Thomas in high regard, as proven by the fact that His Majesty has agreed to the engagement of the prince and his beloved sister, the Princess Sophia,” said the countess.

  “His Majesty cannot hold Prince Thomas in higher regard than do I, Your Ladyship,” said Phillip.

  The countess gave a disdainful smile. Quite obviously, she did not believe him.

  “Please inform Sir Henry Wallace that King Renaud would be deeply angered to learn that anything untoward had happened to His Highness.”

  “I would be glad to deliver your message, my lady, but I am no longer in communication with Sir Henry,” said Phillip.

  “I find that hard to credit, Your Grace,” the countess said. “According to my sources, you are one of his most trusted agents. Sir Henry places a high value on you.”

  “Your sources are behind the times, Your Ladyship,” said Phillip. “Sir Henry might place a high value on my head these days. No longer upon my service.”

  The countess made a dismissive gesture with her hand, causing the jewels of her rings to sparkle in the moonlight.

  “I wonder what Prince Thomas would say if he knew the ugly truth about you.”

  “If that is a threat, my lady, it is empty,” said Phillip. “His Highness knows I was sent to spy on him. I told him. He has been gracious enough to forgive me. I can never forgive myself.”

  He tried to say the last calmly, but he could not conceal his humiliation. His voice faltered. His lips tightened. His hand, resting on the stone parapet, clenched.

  “Interesting,” said the countess, regarding him as she might regard some specimen of rare beetle. “You are ashamed.”

  He looked at her, startled and wary.

  “I heard about the dangerous work you undertook during the war. That does you credit.”

  “Then you believe me,” Phillip said.

  The quartet began to play. The faint strains of music drifted through the glass doors.

  “I withhold judgment,” said the countess. “For now, you have been warned. The dancing has started. I must return.”

  She waited for him to open the doors, then swept past him and into the ballroom. Once there, she gave him her hand in parting. As he politely brought her hand to his lips, he felt her fingers tighten painfully around his.

  “I will be watching you, Your Grace,” she said softly. “Be mindful.”

  The countess left him with a smile and vanished amid the glittering, laughing throng. Phillip sank down in a chair to recover, feeling as though he had just been released after having his bones broken on the rack.

  “Or perhaps the iron maiden,” he said with a shudder. “That would be more apt.”

  THIRTY-SIX

  The room was hot and noisy, and Phillip did not know what to do with himself. He was not in the mood for dancing. He searched the crowd for Thomas, but he could not find him among the swirling dancers.

  “I need a glass of wine,” Phillip muttered. “Or six.”

  The buffet table was crowded as gentlemen filled plates to deliver to their ladies. As he approached, the men regarded him with hauteur; he was, after all, a Freyan.

  He retreated to the far end of the table, secured a glass of champagne, and looked for someplace quiet where he could be alone. Seeing a servant disappear behind a curtain, Phillip followed. Servants were expected to materialize out of the ether when they were needed and to vanish when they were not. Thus the palace would be equipped with servants’ halls—hidden passages through which the servants could walk without offending the sensibilities of their masters. Phillip planned to slip into one of these secluded passages, hoping to find respite from the heat, the noise and the soul-piercing gaze of the countess. For although he could not see her, he could feel her watching him.

  He was in front of the curtain when a frantic call brought him to a halt. A hand drew aside the curtain. He saw an eye peering out at him.

  “Help me, sir! Please! Help!”

  Alarmed, Phillip flung open the curtain to find a young woman kneeling on the floor in the midst of large fragments of broken porcelain, her gown spattered with what he took for blood. Phillip dropped the champagne glass and fell to his knees at her side.

  “You are wounded, my lady! Where are you hurt? Who did this?”

  “Wounded?” The young woman stared at him, baffled. She followed his horrified gaze to the bodice of her gown and gave a breathless laugh.

  “I am not wounded, sir! My gown is stained with chocolate, not blood. Although this might as well be blood,” she added with a woeful expression. “For Anna will most certainly kill me.”

  Phillip could breathe again. “You asked for help, my lady. How may I assist you, since it seems you do not need me to save you from assassins.”

  “Not assassins,” said the young woman, smiling. “A Bandit.”

  She lifted the tablecloth and pointed to a spaniel who was gulping meringues with a speed that indicated the dog knew he was likely to have his meal interrupted.

  “Bandit! You naughty boy! Look what you have done!” the young woman scolded.

  Seizing hold of the dog by a jeweled collar, she dragged him away from the stolen treats, then turned her laughing gaze to Phillip.

  “You can help me with this Bandit, sir, though I must warn you that if you do, you will be complicit in our crime.”

  “I draw the line at stealing the crown jewels, but otherwise I am yours to command,” said Phillip.

  “Good! If you will hold Bandit and keep watch for the servants, I will hide the evidence.”

  Heedless of her voluminous sil
k skirt, the young woman began to crawl about on her hands and knees, hurriedly gathering up broken glass and crockery and shoving it underneath the table.

  Phillip had a firm grip on the spaniel, who, stuffed with meringues, blinked at him lazily. Tasked with keeping watch for trouble, he found he could not take his admiring gaze from the young woman. She was perhaps nineteen or twenty, with hair the color of chestnuts, large brown eyes, and a winsome, expressive face.

  “There! I think that’s all,” she said, lowering the tablecloth.

  “Shh!” Phillip whispered. “Someone’s coming!”

  The young woman ducked beneath the cloth. Reaching out, she dragged Phillip after her. He scrambled awkwardly underneath the table, accidentally pinching Bandit, who gave a little yip of protest.

  “Hush, you naughty dog!” The young woman drew close to Phillip to clamp her hand around the dog’s muzzle.

  Her eyes met his; they both smothered their laughter. He was dazed by her closeness, her warmth, and the intoxicating scents of chocolate, strawberries, whipped cream, powdered sugar, dog, and roses.

  The two crouched under the table until the servants departed. Phillip peered out from beneath the tablecloth. Seeing no one, he crawled out and offered his hand to assist his companion. She regained her feet with some difficulty, for she kept stepping on the hem of her gown.

  They ducked behind the curtain and found themselves in a well-lit, narrow passageway. The two of them were, for the moment, alone. The woman looked down at her gown with dismay. The gown was made of white silk, covered in tulle decorated with red rosebuds and, now, chocolate.

  She sighed, then laughed and held out her hand. “I am Sophia, by the way. I am forever in your debt, sir. I realize we have not been formally introduced, but may I know your name, that I may properly thank you?”

  “Phillip … I think…” said Phillip, gazing at her, utterly charmed.

  He took hold of her hand as best he could while trying to hang on to Bandit. Sophia saw the admiration in his eyes, and her face flushed pink.

  Withdrawing her hand, she reached for the dog. “Thank you, Phillip, for coming to my rescue. I can take Bandit. I should go change—”

  Phillip did not want this moment to end, and he kept hold of the dog. “Since we are now criminals, my lady, you should at least tell me what happened. When questioned, we will need to get our stories straight.”

  Sophia smiled, seeming glad for the excuse to stay with him. “I shut Bandit in the closet in my room. I can’t think how he got loose, but he is very good at escaping, especially when he smells food. When my maid came to tell me he was missing, I knew where to look.”

  “Among the desserts,” said Phillip.

  “I found him standing on the table, eating the meringues!” Sophia said. “When he saw me, he started to run. I made a grab for him and missed. He knocked the platter of meringues to the floor and when I tried to catch him, I overturned a pot of chocolate.”

  She smiled into Phillip’s eyes and he smiled into hers. They unconsciously drew nearer to each other. Sophia’s blush deepened and she reached for the dog.

  “I can take him now, sir. Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

  Phillip could think of no more excuses to linger. He was about to relinquish Bandit when, fortunately for him, they were interrupted by the sound of footfalls coming down the passage.

  “This way!” Sophia ran across the hall, opened a door, and darted inside. Phillip hurried to join her. She hurriedly closed the door and they were immediately plunged into darkness. Both of them froze, not wanting to bump into anything.

  “Do you know where we are?” Phillip whispered.

  “I think we’re in someone’s bedchamber,” Sophia said softly.

  Phillip smiled in the darkness. He could only imagine what the countess would think if she heard he had been caught sneaking into bedchambers.

  “I don’t believe anyone is here,” Sophia added. “Everyone will be attending the ball.”

  “I don’t hear anything,” Phillip agreed, trying to placate Bandit, who clearly was tired of being carried, and squirmed in his arms.

  Sophia whispered a word and a soft white glow filled the room, shining from what looked like a pomander filled with tiny sparkling stars. Phillip was impressed. She had conjured the starry pomander out of nothing, or so it appeared. He started to say something, but she put her finger to her lips, cautioning silence, and the two hurried through the bedroom toward the door on the other side. She turned the handle, opened the door a crack, and looked out.

  “This leads to a dressing room. Wait here! I’m going to search for a way out,” she whispered, and she glided through the door.

  At her departure, Bandit apparently thought his mistress was abandoning him, for he raised a dismal howl. Sophia hurried back to console the dog.

  “Oh, hush, Bandit, please!” she begged. “Be quiet and I will give you a tea cake!”

  Bandit was not inclined to be pacified and kept barking. Phillip began to laugh and, after a moment, so did Sophia.

  “I think we should make a run for it, my lady,” said Phillip.

  They hurried through a suite of elegant rooms and at last escaped into what appeared to be a main hallway. Portraits of men wearing ermine robes and periwigs and women in feathers and jewels adorned the walls. Stands of armor guarded alcoves, and bouquets of flowers adorned tables in niches. Magical light spilled down from floating chandeliers. Sophia dismissed the pomander with a flick of her fingers.

  “Now I know where we are!” she said, sighing with relief. “We are not far from my chambers. I can go change my gown, hopefully before Anna catches me. And you can return to the ball. I am certain some pretty young woman is hating me for keeping you from dancing with her.”

  “On the contrary, my lady, I know only one person in the ballroom and he will not miss my company in the slightest,” said Phillip. “I would much rather stay with you. I can watch Bandit while you change. So he doesn’t escape again.”

  “Do you mind very much … Phillip?” Sophia said his name shyly.

  “I will not ‘dessert’ you, my lady,” said Phillip, grinning.

  Sophia laughed. “You are quite dreadful. Very well, to punish you for that pun, you will carry Bandit.”

  The hallway was quiet, cool, and airy. Thick carpets damped the noise; sounds of music and laughter soon faded behind them. Phillip had no idea where they were, except that they were on one of the upper levels of the palace. Whenever they passed one of the floor-to-ceiling windows, he could see the lights of Evreux glittering in the distance.

  They were about halfway down the hall when Sophia suddenly stopped, seized his arm, and dragged him to halt.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Two people are standing in the doorway!” she whispered.

  Now that she had pointed them out, Phillip could see a man and a woman locked in a passionate embrace outside a door.

  “Give them a minute to leave, then we can proceed,” Sophia whispered.

  She was standing close to him. Phillip, enjoying her nearness and the touch of her hand on his arm, was happy to give the couple days if they wanted it. At that moment, however, Bandit began to gag and heave, making the unmistakable sounds of a dog about to lose his ill-gotten gains.

  “Oh, no!” Sophia said, distraught. “Put him down before he ruins your clothes!”

  At the odd sound, the man and woman who had been kissing sprang apart.

  “Is someone there?” the man called, looking down the hall.

  The statue of a general someone-or-other stood in a curtained alcove. Phillip deposited the heaving dog behind the statue just as the gentleman came walking toward them. Phillip caught a glimpse of the hem of a gown and lacy petticoats whisking off down the hall.

  “Oh, Rodrigo!” Sophia gasped. “Thank God it is you! You won’t tell my brother, will you?”

  “My dearest girl, you should be at the ball,” the man said in a tone of fond aff
ection. He made a graceful leg, then, rising, cast a perplexed look at her dress. “What have you been doing?”

  Phillip stared in wonder, for the gentleman was a wondrous sight. He was dressed in a coat of gold brocade with a gold and black waistcoat, lace cuffs trimmed in gilt thread, shimmering golden stockings, golden breeches and shoes with golden buckles, and a starched white frilly ruff around his neck in place of a cravat. So far as Phillip remembered, ruffs had gone out of fashion during the time of James I.

  The gentleman drew out his handkerchief from his coat to hold it over his nose. “Is that the sound of a dog vomiting?”

  “Oh, Rodrigo, this has been such a dreadful night!” Sophia tried to explain. “Bandit got loose and there were meringues and chocolate all over the floor and now my gown is ruined and everything was awful until this kind gentleman came to my rescue.”

  “Very gallant,” said Rodrigo. Removing the handkerchief, he tucked it into his sleeve. “I should like to make the hero’s acquaintance. Will you introduce us, Your Highness?”

  “May I present Sir Rodrigo de Villeneuve.” Sophia glanced at Phillip and flushed in embarrassment. “Oh, dear, I do not seem to know your full name, sir.”

  “Allow me,” said Rodrigo, bowing. “I believe we have the pleasure of addressing His Grace, Duke of Upper and Lower Milton, Phillip Masterson.”

  “Have you two met?” asked Sophia, looking from one to the other.

  “I have not had the pleasure, Your Highness,” said Rodrigo. “His Grace is obviously Freyan by his dress—quite drab, I fear. I am aware of only two Freyans currently in court: His Grace and His Highness Prince Thomas. I have met His Highness, ergo, he must be His Grace.”

  Phillip only half heard what Rodrigo was saying. The words “Your Highness” combined with the name “Sophia” were dinning in his ears.

  “You are Princess Sophia!” said Phillip.

  “You are the prince’s best friend,” Sophia gasped.

  “And you are going to marry my best friend,” said Phillip.