The 48

by Donna Hosie

  Alice. Where was she? Had she been here waiting for me? I started to see amorphous black shapes across my line of sight. My fingertips were cold but soaked with sweat as I fumbled at the wood paneling to keep my balance.

  The crimson trail led from my room to my brother’s, but there were small lumps in the blood, like skin, on the floor too. Whatever had happened had taken place in this room. I could barely breathe as I reached the connecting door between the rooms.

  The blankets and sheets had been dragged onto the floor, but I couldn’t see the bed because curtains had been pulled around it.

  “Alex?” My voice cracked. “Alice?”

  There was no movement from the bed. Blood had soaked through the under-sheets and was dripping onto the floor.

  “Alex?”

  I dragged back one of the drapes and gagged at the sight in front of me. A large, bloody mass of muscle and flesh was lying in the center of Alex’s bed. The throat had been cut and a deep black gorge opened up in the flayed skin of the body. Both eyes had been removed from the sockets and placed on the blood-smeared pillows.

  I gagged again. My eyes watered and my throat burned as I fell back into a large wooden cabinet. The door splintered from its hinges as I fell to the floor. Blood oozed through the gaps between my fingers. My boots were sliding in it.

  “Charlie!”

  Alice was there then—grabbing my arms and pulling and sliding my body across the floor. Once I had managed to stand, I threw off the cloak I had been wearing. The metallic stench of blood and guts was overpowering. We both vomited into a copper container filled with kindling.

  “What the…what the hell is that?” cried Alice, covering her mouth with her hand. “Oh, Charlie…who would…why…”

  The animal carcass was impossible to identify, although I wasn’t looking too carefully. It had four legs and was the size of a large wolfhound. Every last bit of fur had been skinned from the body. From the amount of blood over the two rooms, it was clear the blood had been drained from its body—probably from the slash across the throat.

  “It’s a warning,” I gasped. “We need to clean this up before someone sees it. I—I don’t even know where to start—”

  “Charlie, what if this was done by the same person who tried to poison you?”

  “It doesn’t matter! I’m hanging on by a thread here, Alice. I’m trying to stay on track with this assignment, trying to keep a psychotic king happy, I’m worried sick about my brother, and on top of that, I’ve got to deal with a river of blood in my lodgings.”

  I sank to my knees as the room started to sway. I couldn’t lose it. I was better than this. I had been trained for this.

  “Charlie, control your breathing,” whispered Alice. “Don’t freak out. If you freak out, then I’ll freak out. And if I freak out—then I’ll really freak out!”

  I laughed, sounding hysterical. “Why is this happening to us?” I whispered. “You being dragged here, me being poisoned, this—”

  “I don’t know. But we’ll make them pay when we find them.”

  “How?”

  “Forget time writing. We’ve been trained to be time assassins, Charlie,” replied Alice flatly. “We can use time for our own devices. Someone is after us. So we get to them first. That’s how we make them pay. For everything.”

  Alice left for a short time and then reappeared with scrub brushes, a pile of old rags, and a bucket full of steaming water. “I’ll bring fresh linens after I get this cleaned up.”

  “What? You’re not doing this alone.”

  “No, I’m not. There are a couple of chambermaids who I bet will help me. They’ve been friendly, and I think they’re used to drama. A son of Cleves shouldn’t be caught near a mess like this, so you need to leave.”

  “Friendly doesn’t equal trustworthy, Alice. And there’s no way I’m leaving you alone in this room.” I got on my knees and started scrubbing. It actually helped calm the maelstrom churning in my head.

  Somebody was after us. I should never have let Alex go away alone with Edward Seymour.

  We should have stayed together.

  * * *

  —

  The bed was stripped. The carcass was removed. The scene had been enough to put me off meat for life. Which reminded me…

  “Cromwell has asked me to take supper in his rooms with him,” I said to Alice.

  “You can’t, not looking like that. You’re covered in blood.”

  My voice caught in my throat. I didn’t want to cry, but I could feel the end of my nose prickling.

  “It reminds me of growing up, Alice. The blood. I have so many memories of training growing up, and nearly all of them are triggered by the smell of puke and blood.”

  “It’s pretty screwed up, isn’t it?”

  I pulled Alice into me. I just held her. I thought the smell of her shampoo would remind me of something nice, something I wanted, but Alice was just as contaminated by death as I was.

  “Isn’t there anything else?” I whispered. “Anything that’s normal in our memories?”

  “The smell of honeysuckle is normal,” she replied, slipping her warm hands around my waist. Bare skin on bare skin. I wanted to touch her back. I wanted to move my fingers down the nape of her neck, which was soft with babylike hair.

  “Your turn, Charlie.”

  “I can’t remember…”

  “Try,” said Alice, gazing into my eyes. “Think of something—anything.”

  “Skinny-dipping in the lake.”

  “Finding blackberries and gorging on them until we were sick,” she said, nodding enthusiastically. “Give me another normal.”

  “Watching the sun set and being glad you’re alive.”

  “Yes,” whispered Alice. “And being loved.”

  I dropped my arms and took a step back. “Love isn’t normal. Not for us. Love makes you hurt.”

  “It is normal. Tell me you didn’t love me, Charlie. I dare you to say what we had wasn’t love.”

  “I can’t love you.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking. And not loving and not being able to love aren’t the same.”

  “We’re different from other people, Alice.”

  “Why? Because we’ve been told to be different?”

  “We are different. Look at us. We’re talking about love and we’re covered in blood. Our lives, our existences, are not normal.”

  I wasn’t prepared for Alice to kiss me. Her warm mouth parting against my cold lips, her soft skin sliding against my five-day stubble, her breath mixing with mine and not knowing who was inhaling and who was exhaling…it caught me off guard. But I didn’t stop her.

  I want to love you, I thought. I wanted this to be normal.

  But it wasn’t. And Alice knew it.

  She knew everything.

  * * *

  —

  I could still taste her kiss long after she had run from the room. Long after I’d bathed and dressed in presentable clothes and made my way through the maze of corridors. Right up till the moment I knocked on the door of Thomas Cromwell’s apartments.

  When a servant opened the door, I saw that the interior beyond was large and dark. There was a single lead-latticed window behind his cluttered desk, but it let in little light. My eyes started to ache within seconds of being shown in. I rubbed them but quickly withdrew my hand. Despite my bath, dark traces of animal blood were still trapped under my nails and caught between my ragged cuticles. Would Cromwell be able to smell it, or was I just being paranoid? My stomach was churning. I didn’t know whether I was ill, hungry, or just tired.

  “Sit, Cleves,” instructed Cromwell. His tone wasn’t unkind or rude, just perfunctory.

  He was sitting in a large wooden chair with a high square back. It didn’t look comfortable. I was offered a smaller chair with a padded tap
estry seat. Cromwell’s office space was filled with books and scrolls. I could see the melted wax from his seal glistening red in the light from a large sconce filled with candles. The seal had been recently used.

  “How are you finding life in the court?” asked Cromwell, passing me a plate filled with bread and cheese. “Different from Cleves, no doubt.”

  “Yes. Life here is…different.”

  Cromwell chuckled. It was the first time I had heard him truly laugh. It was disarming.

  “Your father was playing either an interesting game or a foolish one, introducing his two sons to the court now,” said Cromwell.

  I didn’t reply. Putting a big chunk of cheese in my mouth helped. I had decided my churning stomach was hungry.

  “What do you think of Seymour?” he asked.

  “Which one?”

  “Lady Jane Seymour.”

  “She is very pleasant.”

  “It has been noted that she and Lady Margaret are spending an increasing amount of time with you and your brother,” said Cromwell.

  “Courts are sociable places.”

  “Lady Jane was overheard singing your particular praises,” said Cromwell. “What would you make of that?”

  “Perhaps she was complimenting my brother,” I replied. “People often mistake us for each other, but if one of us is receiving a kind word from people, it’s usually Alexander.”

  “And yet your brother is no longer here. So perhaps your father’s game is neither interesting nor foolish. Perhaps it is wise…and cruel.”

  “Cruel?”

  “What sort of man leaves one son to the whims of Edward Seymour, and the other alone at court in such uncertain times?”

  “My brother will be returning to the court soon,” I replied.

  “By which time we will be at Windsor, and then on to Greenwich.”

  “I go wherever I’m asked—so will my brother.”

  “Then you should fare well. Especially if you are in the service of my office. For I reward loyalty, Charles of Cleves,” said Cromwell, nonchalantly spreading lumpy gray paste onto a thin slice of toast.

  “Don’t we all serve the king?”

  “We do—but there are ways of serving the common people as well as the great amongst us,” replied Cromwell. He hadn’t once looked me in the eye during the exchange. Instead, he was concentrating on the plates of bread, cheese, and fruit. Liars usually maintain eye contact, because they incorrectly believe it’s what truth-tellers do.

  I didn’t mark Cromwell down as a liar, but he was as strategic as a commander going into battle.

  “If I were to serve your office, what would you wish me to do for you?” I asked.

  “Three simple things. Watch, listen, and report only to me.”

  “You want me to spy for you?”

  Cromwell exhaled through his nose. It was almost disdainful.

  “Spy is a crude word,” he said, throwing me an apple. I caught it with one hand. The chief minister nodded to show his respect, looking directly at me for the first time. “And your mother tongue makes all words sounds cruel, Charles of Cleves. The Rhinelands have such harsh languages. No, my boy, I do not wish you to spy. I only want you to tell me what the queen is doing. Let’s say I am looking out for her welfare.”

  “You are referring to Anne?”

  “Is there any other queen?” asked Cromwell sarcastically.

  Working for Cromwell was exactly the sort of liaising Aramis wanted me to do. But I didn’t have time to run around after Anne Boleyn. That was what Alice was doing….

  Alice. Of course. Fate was finally working in my favor. Brilliant, resourceful Alice was already my link in the queen’s chambers. I wouldn’t have to spend time finding out information for Cromwell at all because Alice would already have it. Between her and Lady Margaret, I would have all bases covered.

  Which meant I could continue steering Henry away from Jane, while also having direct access to the king’s chief minister. The setup was perfect.

  “When do you wish me to speak with you? Daily?”

  Cromwell smiled to himself. He saw me as a pawn in a bigger game, I knew that, but chess was a game for two players, and I had been training for it just as long as he had.

  “I will send for you,” he replied. “Do not let anyone else know that you’re now my man, not even your brother—should he return. Or your father.”

  “My brother will return,” I said. “Seymour has only taken him for a visit to know him better outside of court. But Seymour won’t be away from court a moment longer than necessary.”

  “You are learning, Cleves,” said Cromwell. “And what about your father, the duke? Will he return?”

  Two candles on Cromwell’s desk had burned down to nothing; his face was bathed in darkness.

  “If the king sends for the Duke of Cleves, then the Duke of Cleves will attend,” I replied. “But otherwise, I do not believe my father has plans to return to the court.”

  “And yet he remains in England.”

  A sudden prickle on my neck made me shudder. “N-no, my father is departed for Cleves.”

  “I have eyes at every port,” said Cromwell, leaning forward slightly. “The Duke of Cleves did not board a ship. If he did not board a ship, then he remains in England.”

  My mouth was running dry. I desperately wanted some water, but all Cromwell had was wine.

  “They who profess to be your eyes must be seeing in a dim light,” I said. “Much like the light in here.”

  At that, Cromwell leaned back and a young boy in a dark green doublet and knee-length breeches scurried in. He started clearing Cromwell’s desk of plates. The casket of wine was left. I took the cleanup as a hint and rose from my chair.

  “You’re my man now, Cleves. Don’t forget that.”

  Cromwell didn’t say another word. I nodded and made my way to the door.

  Outside, the night sky was littered with stars. I rubbed the back of my neck, where Cromwell’s words about Aramis had made me shiver, and looked down at the countdown in my wrist.

  37 19:01:38

  I wanted Alex back. We had never been separated before. Even in The 48 we took Imperatives together. Being apart from him felt wrong, like part of my DNA had been extracted without permission. And after everything that had happened today, being apart from him felt dangerous.

  We didn’t talk about it, but my brother and I had a bond.

  Alice would call our bond love.

  Grinch and Asix would call it weakness.

  Piermont would simply exterminate it, given the chance.

  I looked up at the night sky again and found the biggest star. It had a pinkish tinge.

  “Bring my brother back to me,” I whispered. I stared at it for so long that the imprint of the star was burned into my retinas.

  * * *

  —

  The star was the last thing I saw from my window as I fell asleep.

  But Alex didn’t return the next day.

  Or the day after that, when I received the king’s invitation to join the court at Windsor Castle.

  * * *

  —

  A week later, there was still no sign of my brother as the court moved from Hampton Palace to Windsor Castle. Windsor was a cold, drafty, lifeless palace that had none of Hampton Court’s warmth or color. But I noticed immediately that it did have Edward Seymour.

  I pounced on him the second I spotted him alone.

  “Edward, you’ve returned!” I tried to make my voice jovial. “How was your visit to Wulfhall?”

  “Your brother has not already told you, Charles of Cleves?” he asked testily.

  “He has not. Indeed, I was hoping you could tell me of his whereabouts. I’ve not seen him since he left with you.”

  “Pity,” said Edward. “He ha
d a message to give you concerning my sister.”

  “Which is…?”

  “Only that I expect you to keep your distance from her.”

  “I see. And why has my brother not delivered the message himself?”

  “You cannot expect me to know that. I am not your brother’s manservant. We returned to Hampton Court together, but I departed for Windsor before he did.”

  My heart sank. I nodded and walked away as fast as I could.

  “Charles of Cleves!” Edward called to my back. “Do not forget what I said.”

  I was too preoccupied to turn and acknowledge his tacit warning.

  Alex was missing. The queen’s court had not yet arrived, so Alice and I were separated. Speaking to Lady Jane was going to be difficult. She had traveled with the king’s court, but as Edward had just made plain, she was now under his watchful eye once more.

  Where was my brother?

  * * *

  —

  Days passed. Without the queen to report on for Cromwell, I mostly spent my time walking with the king and filling his head with thoughts of ladies of the court. He was openly flirting with a number of women in the court, including Jane Seymour, while the aura of the absent queen hung like a toxic cloud over everything.

  After what seemed a lifetime, half of the queen’s court, some of her ladies-in-waiting, and, more importantly, Alice, arrived at Windsor. On the eighth day, the queen herself arrived with her remaining entourage, having made a detour to the house of one Lord Robert of Bray, presumably to try to drum up support for her position as the king’s wife.

  I tried to engage the king with the suggestion of a tennis match that day, but he was in such a foul mood over the queen’s presence that I was glad he sent me—and everyone else—from the court. There was a rumor, whispered behind hands, that the king had taken a woman to his bed and had been unable to perform.

  * * *

  —

  “Not as homey as Hampton Court, is it?” said Alice. She was walking around my new lodgings with her hands behind her back.