The Fugitive Queen

by FIONA BUCKLEY

  At least I now knew where I was. I must swing my horse around and charge for the gatehouse. I gathered my reins.

  Too late. A groom had my horse’s bridle and the gate was being shut behind me. The dark-clad man was extending a hand to help me down. The torchlight showed me gentle blue eyes and a priest’s tonsure, gray with years. Helplessly, I dismounted. He bowed. He took my arm and led me to the house, up the steps and into the vestibule, brightly lit by torches in wall sconces and half a dozen branched candelabra standing about on tables.

  And there, awaiting me in the middle of the black-and-white-tiled floor, which I remembered all too well, was the hostess, whom I also remembered all too well.

  “Mistress Holme,” said the priest gravely, “may I present Her Majesty, Queen Mary of Scotland.”

  “Your Majesty,” said Mistress Adeliza Holme, stepping forward and sinking before me into a deeply respectful curtsy.

  From which lowly position, she looked up, no doubt expecting me to offer her my hand to kiss, and looked straight into my face. I saw her mouth drop open.

  My escorts were hanging back a little, allowing Mistress Holme to greet me without interference. I made one last effort. Leaning down, I took her hands and raised her and whispered: “If you value your life, keep up the pretense.”

  It was no use. She tore her hands away from me. “This isn’t Queen Mary! Tobias—Father Robinson—we’re betrayed!” It came out in a shriek and I did the only thing remaining that offered me the faintest hope, the faintest chance of rescuing Pen, or the faintest chance even of retaining any dignity myself.

  I threw back my hood, tore off my scarf, shook my dark hair loose, looked Mistress Holme in the eyes and declared: “Mary Stuart is still at Tyesdale. I am Ursula Stannard, Lady of Queen Elizabeth’s Presence Chamber and the guardian of Mistress Penelope Mason. I have come to fetch her home.”

  • • •

  There was a horrified silence. I was encircled by staring eyes. For the first time I saw my escort clearly. Judging from the soot engrained in their faces, the three I did not know were probably miners. One, the eldest, had a marked resemblance to Grimsdale and I remembered the farmer saying that he had an uncle who was a miner.

  The elderly priest—this must be the one who tutored the Holme girls—stepped away from me, his face blanching. The Holme girls retreated too, in a bunch, as though I had suddenly sprouted horns or plague spots. Tobias seized my elbow, swung me around, and stared into my eyes. “You!” he said. “You!”

  Then he hit me. I went reeling and collided with the elder Grimsdale, who grabbed my upper arms, peered into my face in turn, and shouted: “God’s teeth, it’s true! Saw thee when thee stayed at t’farm not long back! What t’hell’s thee about, playing at queens? Where’s t’Queen of Scotland? Well?” He shook me. “Well?”

  “She’s just told you. Still at Tyesdale,” said Tobias. He sounded as though he was having trouble breathing. “My God, she’s probably broken her word and put Knollys on our track! Grimsdale, go to the lookout tower and see if anyone’s coming. The moon’s still out.”

  Grimsdale let go of me and ran for the stairs. Gasping, I leaned against the nearby wall, a hand to my bruised face. “You bitch!” Tobias spat at me. The well-bred, well-mannered secretary had disappeared. His face was twisted, as much, I thought, with fear as anger. “If you’re being followed . . .”

  “I’m not!” I told him, glumly aware that this was almost certainly true, and wishing with all my heart that Sir Francis and his men were about to burst in on us. “If you’d let me explain . . .”

  “Yes, I’d like an explanation! Let’s hear what she has to say!” Adeliza was completely terrified. Her kittenish face had gone feral with fear. “We’d better hear! We’d better know what we’re dealing with before she gets us all burned as traitors, me and my daughters!”

  From the huddled group of girls at the foot of the stairs, there came an outburst of whimpers, which were echoed from above. Glancing up, I saw several servants, male and female, leaning over the upstairs banister. Tobias looked up as well.

  “Back to bed, every one of you!” His voice shook, but he was regaining command of himself. “You girls—go upstairs and get into your beds, quickly! If anyone comes here, what they’ve got to find is a normal household, fast asleep as all good folk should be at this hour. Father Robinson, you are the tutor in this household—take your charges away and try to keep everyone calm.”

  The priest hurried up the stairs, shepherding the girls before him. They were sobbing and I heard him trying to reassure them, not very successfully, for his own voice was trembling.

  “Queen Mary lost her nerve,” I said loudly. “She has been ill. She has a pain in her side. She couldn’t face it.”

  I hoped that Tobias didn’t understand Mary well enough to realize that whatever her other weaknesses and shortcomings, she was nevertheless capable of facing almost anything that offered a chance of getting out of captivity and back into power.

  “But she told me that where she was going, she would find Penelope Mason. She knows about Penelope. I disguised myself and came in Queen Mary’s stead in order to find Penelope. I am responsible for her. I have not,” I said, determinedly lying, “revealed anything to Knollys.”

  “Happen she’d say that any road!” said the eldest miner ominously and both the younger miners said: “Aye, Dad, that’s right,” in unison. His sons, I supposed. Grimsdale cousins.

  “Sir Francis is at Tyesdale but I have told him nothing.” As a good liar should, I tried to make myself believe it. “Tomorrow I will not be there, of course, but my woman will tell him I am sick and confined to my room.”

  Grimsdale came thumping down the stairs again. “There’s no sign of owt moving. Tha can see for miles in this moonlight. Bit of ground mist drifting about to t’north, but not much of it yet, and Tyesdale’s not that way, any road. No one’s abroad.”

  “Good.” Tobias relaxed fractionally. I drew a long breath and once more said: “Where is Penelope? Queen Mary said . . .”

  “Ah well. I had to practice a small deception on Her Majesty to ease her conscience,” Tobias informed me. “Pen, of course, could not be allowed to know that her abduction—yes, I admit that it was that—had anything to do with the Queen of Scotland. If Penelope knows too much, she might later on betray my friends, the Grimsdales and Mistress Holme here. My cousin Whitely and I were going to France with the queen, but the others did not wish to leave their homes. They must not be endangered. Your ward, Mistress Stannard, is not here and never has been. She is in another hiding place, awaiting her marriage tomorrow to Andrew Thwaite. Father Robinson is to officiate. I have, as it were, hired his services from Mistress Holme—at a good price.”

  “At a price?” I didn’t understand.

  “I have five girls to settle, as you well know!” Adeliza was angry and frightened both at once. “I haven’t money enough to dower them all.” Her head came up. “I would have helped Her Majesty of Scotland for nothing, but I was glad to be paid and glad as well to be paid extra for Father Robinson’s services. Though he’s been frightened of the whole thing from the start and, my God, I think he was right! How do we know for sure you’ve not been followed?” She glared at me. “Or won’t be missed tomorrow? There’ll be a search if you are. Oh, why are you all still here?” She looked fearfully around her as though she expected Sir Francis Knollys and his men to materialize out of the wall hangings. “Tobias, go away and take this . . . this person away with you! If anyone comes here, searching, I want them to find nothing to incriminate us, nothing at all!”

  “Gently, gently. Look, Mistress Holme, we are all very weary and so are our horses. You have a hiding place, I know, because you said that Her Majesty could use it if necessary . . .”

  “It’s naught but a little room behind a panel! You can’t all crowd into it and, anyway, I won’t let you! I won’t let you stay here! I don’t care how tired you are, or your horses!” Adeliza’s voice b
ecame shrill. “Go away from here! I want no more to do with this! The queen’s not here; she isn’t coming; it’s all been for nothing and I’ll not risk my life and my daughters’ lives anymore. I don’t even care about the money now! Go away! You can still take Father Robinson if you want—and if you’ll pay for using him, I’ll call him. That much, but no more.”

  “Mistress Holme, there’s no need to be hysterical . . .”

  “Yes, there is!” Adeliza shouted.

  “What about Penelope?” Doggedly I clung to the story I had told, that I was here only to find Pen. “Where is she? I must go to her.”

  “Take the Stannard woman to her!” shouted Adeliza. “What are you waiting for? Go on! Go to her wedding! Father Robinson! Father Robinson! Come down here again! At once!” She ended with a wild laugh, which turned into a hiccup.

  The priest came hurrying down the stairs, carrying a candle. He looked old and exhausted.

  “What is all this about a wedding?” I demanded. “The agreement was that Pen would be married by force only if I betrayed you and I haven’t. I want to take her home!”

  “Ah. Well.” Tobias managed a smile, which did nothing to reassure me. “Whitely and I practiced a small deception on you, too, I’m afraid, Mistress Stannard. There was never any question of Penelope returning home. You threw my cousin out of his employment without a character, after all. The Thwaites are his very good friends and are willing to pay commissions to him and to me if we can bring about a match between Andrew and Penelope. Pen, with the help of good Mistress Holme’s chaplain and tutor, will marry Andrew Thwaite tomorrow—no, let me correct myself. It’s this morning now, is it not? That was always intended, whether Mary Stuart escaped from her imprisonment or not.”

  “Revenge,” I said bitterly. I had said that to Sir Francis. I had been right.

  “Will you all just go!” wailed Adeliza.

  “The Thwaites didn’t want one of your girls, so it’s no loss to you if Pen is married to Andrew,” I said to her, “and I suppose that to you, Pen is a rival that you want out of the way. Poor, poor Pen. Father Robinson . . .”

  “Will do as he is told,” Adeliza informed me. “I feed, house, and clothe him. If he wishes that to continue, he will undertake this simple errand, which falls well within his natural duties as a priest. Father Robinson! Master Littleton and his companions are leaving to see to the marriage. You’re to go with them and do their bidding. Get your horse. Master Tobias, the queen’s cause is lost and I do not expect you to pay me for it, but with respect to Father Robinson . . .”

  “I’m an honest man,” said Tobias outrageously. He undid his belt pouch and took out a handful of coins. I watched him count ten sovereigns into Adeliza’s outstretched palm. “I am sure that Magnus will want the marriage to proceed, so there you are—payment for the priest’s services and something more, for being willing at least to help Her Majesty of Scotland. It’ll add something worthwhile to your fund for the girls’ dowries.”

  “Thirty pieces of silver would have been even more appropriate,” I remarked. Tobias laughed and Father Robinson looked at me sadly.

  “I’m too old to go out into a world where priests of my kind are treated as criminals. I’m past the age for seeking lodgings door-to-door and sleeping under a hedge if the doors are slammed in my face,” he said. He went out of the front door, shoulders bowed, and I heard his feet drag their way down the steps.

  I looked at Tobias with hatred, and in return, he smiled unpleasantly. “I do seem to be making a career of deception,” he said. He sounded quite debonair. “Penelope, you, and even Queen Mary. It’s the way of the world, alas.”

  “If this marriage takes place, I’ll see it’s broken!” I said with fury.

  Tobias’s smile did not change. Swallowing my rage, I tried to speak reasonably. “Tobias, you have no quarrel with Pen. She thought you loved her. Surely you couldn’t have pretended that so well if you hadn’t at least liked her a little! She doesn’t want to marry Andrew Thwaite. Why must you force her? Please let her go. You say she knows nothing of the plot concerning Queen Mary, so . . .”

  “I offered Mistress Adeliza a good price to help me,” said Tobias, “but I’m still in profit. The Thwaites are paying both Magnus and me rather well. More than they can afford, I suspect. However, that isn’t our problem. I fancy we shall still be going to France now, even without Queen Mary—though of course it depends on what Magnus says when I rejoin him. If we do go, we’ll be glad of the money.”

  “But why? Why are the Thwaites so mad to marry Pen? Tyesdale isn’t that much of a dowry! We thought it was, before we came here, but when we saw it . . .”

  “It’s strange, isn’t it? I think the answer,” said Tobias, “is that Andrew has fallen in love.” The three miners burst out laughing and I was inclined to agree with them. I did not think that Andrew Thwaite was capable of any such thing.

  Adeliza, who had been listening to us with mounting exasperation, now interrupted. “Will you stop talking and go. Go!”

  “We are upsetting Mistress Holme,” said Tobias reprovingly to me. “We’ll be on our way at once. Come, Mistress Stannard!”

  23

  The Rattle of Chains

  “Where are we going?” I asked as I was hustled out the door.

  “You wanted to see Mistress Penelope, didn’t you?” said Tobias. “Well, so you shall. We’re going to her now. Magnus is with her.”

  “But where is she?”

  “You’ll see when we get there. You’re to ride behind me. Come along, quickly. Mistress Holme doesn’t want us here.”

  I did as I was told. I was beyond arguing by now, for a terrible longing for sleep had swept over me. It overcame almost everything else. In the courtyard, Father Robinson was already getting into his saddle and other horses were being led in. As I was pushed toward them, I noticed that there was a pillion behind the priest and also on two of the other horses. One was Tobias’s animal, and I was now made to mount behind him. I wondered vaguely who the other two pillions were for but couldn’t concentrate. My brain wasn’t working properly.

  The mist, which earlier in the night had been absent, was now swirling over the moor, and the moon, sinking westward, was a hazy circle in the sky. I wondered when, if ever, I would have a chance to sleep. How far away was this unknown place where Pen was being held? And what would happen when we got there?

  I would die, I thought as we set off. Or fall asleep in the saddle and simply slip off into the heather. The thought of lying curled up even in the damp heather was positively enticing. To lie down, to close my eyes, to let my consciousness go . . .

  “Mistress Stannard?” said Tobias.

  I roused myself, assisted by anger. “Yes? What is it?” I said coldly.

  He glanced at me over his shoulder. “You think I am a heartless monster, do you not?” Tobias said.

  I saw no point in denying it. “Yes. Heartless and a deceiver. What has Pen ever done to you that you should use her like this—and after professing to love her!”

  “Love? Believe me,” said Tobias, “I am a man who loves strongly, with passion. I will do anything, anything at all, for those I love. But there are degrees of it. Pen is attractive to me; I like her intelligence. In other circumstances I might well have fallen deeply for her, but as things are, others stand in her way. Magnus, George Mason, and myself were all at school together. George was much the youngest, but we were all good friends and we shared a common devotion to Mary Stuart, whose claim to the English throne has been so roughly put aside. We always told each other that one day we would stand shoulder to shoulder and fight for her. Also, to me, Magnus was more like a brother than a cousin. I did not like to see him flung out of his employment at Tyesdale.”

  “He’d been cheating his employer,” I said icily.

  “Who took no interest in him and left him to run the estate without instructions. No, I understand Magnus’s desire for revenge, and as for Pen, she is not being as badly treated
as you think. What’s wrong with the Thwaites? They’re as good as anyone. If she’s a sensible girl and looks after Andrew as a wife should, it’ll work as well as any other marriage.”

  I was too exhausted to embark on the reasons why Andrew Thwaite was a quite unsuitable match for any respectable young woman. “She doesn’t like him! He repels her!”

  “Female megrims. She’ll soon get over those.”

  “Which would rather seem to undermine Magnus’s revenge!”

  “The revenge is against you, mistress. You don’t want this marriage. Now you must stomach it.”

  I was silent.

  “But above all,” said Tobias, “by using Pen and helping Magnus, I could also help Queen Mary and I love her far more, truth to tell, than I could ever love Pen or any other girl. Mistress Stannard, you have seen her—you know her! You have seen for yourself her grief at being abused and accused, at being cast out of her country and deprived of her power and dignity! She was once a princess in the gracious French court. She did not understand how to live among such rough men as the Scottish nobles mostly are. No wonder she lost her way! Will no one understand? Will no one pity her? Or help her?”

  “I do pity her,” I said. “And I do understand. But I cannot accept what she did. Or what she wants to do here in England. She believes that the crown of England should be hers. I do not, and I would fight, personally, knife in hand, to keep it from her.”

  “Poor Mary. She has been ill-used all the way, from the time she came to Scotland, from the moment she married that cretin Henry Darnley . . .”

  “Who is actually related to Andrew Thwaite,” I remarked. “Andrew resembles him quite markedly. I wonder if he will make the same kind of husband?”

  “Why should he? It’s not a close relationship. I know about it,” said Tobias dismissively. “Magnus told me—the Thwaites told him long ago. Mistress Stannard, if I were not so far below her that I know I must not think of such a thing, I would wed Mary Stuart tomorrow. As it is, I can only kneel at her feet and serve her in any way that I can find. She has enthralled me, like a sorceress in a castle, deep in a forest, spinning a spell on an enchanted wheel, to draw men into the shadows of the wood and through it to her fastness and her arms.”