Court of Conspiracy

by April Taylor

  “Go quickly. Keep to the shadows. Never fear—I will be there. You may trust me.”

  Luke watched the boy scurry off until he was lost to sight. Then he returned to the kitchen and tidied up the evidence of his ministrations, before returning to the shop to finish making potions and think. His senses quickened a few seconds before Joss stood up, her ears pricked. A thin man, his head covered by a cap, entered the shop. It was Roland Dufay, Elemagus and head of the Guild of Elemancers. Luke held him in high respect even if his normal method of communication with his fellow man could be brusque to the point of rudeness.

  “Good morrow, Master Ballard.”

  “Master Dufay. An honor, sir. How may I help you? Would you like refreshment?”

  “No. I understand you have a housekeeper.”

  “Aye sir. Mistress Garrod.”

  “And that she has the talent.”

  Luke looked at Dufay, his mind suddenly alert. There was only one person who could have told him about Pippa.

  “It would appear so, but I have only just confirmed her element.”

  “You should have sent word. It falls to me to assess any new elemancer.”

  Luke bowed. “I would not waste the time of an Elemagus, sir. My time as a journeyman is of much less value.”

  “Pray tell me how could it be a waste of my time?”

  “Because if things are not as they appear, then she would know two elemancers, one of them the head of the Guild. I am being cautious, as you always counsel, sir.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Buying fish.”

  “When you have made your tests, be sure you bring her to me.”

  “Indeed I will.”

  At that moment, Pippa walked through from the kitchen. “There was no...” She stopped short when she saw Dufay and curtsied. “I beg pardon, sir. I had no idea that Master Ballard had a client.”

  “He does not,” Dufay said. “Your name, mistress?”

  “Philippa Garrod, sir,” Pippa curtsied again and lowered her eyes, her brows contracted in a frown.

  Dufay nodded then looked back to Luke. “I shall await your news, Master Ballard.” Without further ado, he strode from the shop and walked toward the Counting House.

  “Who is he?” Pippa asked.

  “A sometime customer,” Luke replied. “Was your fishing successful?”

  “No, all the carp was gone. You will have to make do with eel pie,” she said.

  “Very well. Incidentally, Pippa, do not forget that tonight we go to Master Quayne’s house.”

  He saw a slight smile on her face and the sulky look vanished. “I had not forgotten,” she said.

  The eel pie was just as Luke liked it and he complimented Pippa on her pastry. “At this rate, I shall be losing you to the royal kitchens,” he said.

  “They don’t have women in the kitchens.”

  “The late King’s confectioner was a woman. There’s hope for you yet.”

  “Who was that man?”

  “Which man?” Luke replied, although he knew very well whom she meant.

  “The thin one who can’t smile.”

  “His name is Roland Dufay. He comes when he needs treatment, that is all.”

  Pippa looked at Luke across the table. “I think that is not all, but have it as you wish.”

  Luke spent a large part of the next few hours wondering why Dufay was so interested in Pippa. Despite thinking through alternative theories, it was clear that Anne Boleyn had been in touch with the Elemagus. Had she visited Dufay’s house in the same way she had visited his, he wondered? If so, it was confirmation of a kind that she was under surveillance, which meant that he, too, was being watched. Had someone seen him talking to Robin Flete yesterday? If so, that might well account for the attack on the boy.

  That afternoon Mistress Paige came into the shop complaining of a headache. Luke crumbled some dried lavender heads into a mortar, crushing them before giving it to Gwenette so that she could breathe in the fragrance. As he bent over, she mumbled something he could not hear, but her tone was enough to alert him. Luke’s hand stopped dead.

  Gwenette put her hands on the bowl and spoke in a louder voice. “Thank you, Master Ballard. Do you think you could make me a pomander? I seem to be getting headaches most days,” she said looking directly into his eyes. Before he could withdraw, she lowered her voice to a murmur. “Take care. You are watched.”

  After his earlier deductions, the news was no surprise to Luke, although he wondered how Gwenette knew of it. Then he realized that, working in the inner reaches of the palace, there was much she would overhear from careless tongues that did not mark her presence.

  “Do you know why?” His voice was as quiet as hers.

  “Something to do with the stable boy who was hanged.”

  “I see. Thank you. I shall be careful.” In a louder voice, he added, “I can make you a pomander whilst you wait, or bring it to the palace, whichever you prefer, Mistress Paige.”

  “I am still working in the Great Watching Chamber. Could you bring it there?”

  “Assuredly. Let me just put the lavender mix into a phial. Take in the vapors when you feel an attack coming on and try to get into the fresh air from time to time. Your work is delicate and the lack of light might be causing your headache. I will bring the pomander tomorrow if that suits you.”

  She took the phial from his outstretched hand. “Thank you, Master Ballard. I shall be sure to follow your advice.”

  Luke bowed. “And thank you for yours, Mistress Paige,” he said so that only she could hear.

  * * *

  Luke leaned back in his chair opposite Corbin, watching Pippa and Bertila being entertained by Geoffrey Peveril. There had been a slight altercation from the dogs when he first entered the house. Bertila’s turnspits were used to Joss and they greeted each other with initial wary tails and stalking circles. The larger problem arose when Peveril appeared with his small black-and-tan terrier. Joss ignored the newcomer, but Bertila’s dogs were not prepared to share their territory quite so easily, and it was some moments before peace was restored. Bertila’s scolding voice had both her long-bodied dogs curling in S-shapes, but this did not prevent them from being banished to the kitchen.

  “Anyone would think they had never met Merrick,” she said, her face flushed.

  Peveril bowed over her hand. “Indeed, they are merely jealous that he gets attention from you,” he said.

  Luke noticed that Pippa watched this exchange through narrowed eyes, although she was careful to keep a smile on her face. When he had introduced her to Bertila, he knew that Corbin’s daughter would be aware of the slightest reaction to her acid-scarred face, and he had mentally applauded Pippa for showing nothing other than pleasure at the meeting.

  “Master Ballard has spoken often of you,” Pippa said. “I am very happy to meet you at last.”

  “When Father came home and said that Luke had found a housekeeper, I wondered what kind of saint you must be. It has long been our joke that only a martyr could face the amount of work a housekeeper would have to do for him.”

  “At least I am not expected to clean the shop as well.” Both girls laughed and Bertila drew Pippa to the table where they began a lively conversation about clothes and the latest styles at court. Corbin’s shop was on the direct route from London to the palace and close to the bridge, so any visitors who did not take the river route came past the house, and Bertila showed an active interest in the gowns worn by court ladies.

  Luke and Corbin were content to sit on either side of the fire, discussing the latest news from their colleagues in the Grocers’ Company. It was a while later that this happy gathering was interrupted by Geoffrey Peveril, who, besides Merrick, had also brought his pet monkey.

  When all was
settled, Peveril had the little beast perform tricks. It was the center of attention. Even Corbin watched its antics, which gave Luke time to cast a long gaze on its master. There was something about Peveril that Luke instinctively distrusted and he found it difficult to admit that his apprehension intensified when Peveril addressed laughing comments to Pippa and she responded in the same vein.

  He transferred his gaze to Corbin. He also watched Peveril with wary eyes and Luke could almost feel the wave of discomfort emanating from his friend. There was no doubt that Peveril was flirting with both girls and that, in itself, was a cause for anxiety. Bertila was almost twenty now and Pippa at least seventeen. They were both at the age when the subject of marriage was expected to raise its head. Luke knew that Bertila, in particular, would be looked at with a pity verging on contempt by her peers, who would all be betrothed by now if not married with children. Even without the ravages of the acid, she would not have been considered a beauty, so why was someone as vibrant and, Luke had to admit it, handsome as Peveril paying court to his friend’s daughter? And if he was paying court to Bertila, why did Corbin not seem comfortable with it? Perhaps that was the issue. The doting father did not want to do anything that might spoil Bertila’s chances of settling down and he dared not confront Peveril with accusations of flirting in case he drove the man away. Perhaps Peveril was not ready to settle down just yet. Perhaps he was not sure of his own mind.

  A burst of laughter from the women brought Luke back from his musings. The monkey had hold of two white roses. On a signal from its master, it bowed to Bertila and presented her with one of the flowers and then repeated the exercise with Pippa. Bertila’s skin flushed a dusky pink, which only made her disfigurement more prominent. Pippa also blushed and lowered her eyes but then, Luke noted, looked up at Peveril through her lowered lashes. She threw a sidelong glance at Luke. He glared at her and she flushed scarlet.

  “Look, Master Ballard, a rose,” she said twirling it round to show him and then wincing with pain as her fingers were skewered by the long thorns. Everyone froze as they watched Pippa’s blood drip onto the table.

  Chapter Twelve

  Luke forced a yawn and made as if to stifle it. An uncomfortable silence had fallen whilst Bertila tended to Pippa’s injuries. Peveril had played with the monkey. Luke waited until everyone seemed to be concentrating on something else and casually reached out a hand for the rose that had injured Pippa. Before he could take hold of it, Corbin scooped up both roses and threw them on the fire.

  “Sorry, Master Peveril, but they’ve caused enough hurt.” He called through to Bertila, “How about providing our guests with victuals, girl?”

  Luke’s eyes met Peveril’s. Was the knave mocking him? The atmosphere was lightened by Pippa helping carry in the food. Bertila had made wafers decorated with marchpane and gingerbread as well as venison pasties and a minced beef pie. Luke could not help wondering if this was a display designed to persuade Peveril of her skills as a housewife. He would have given much to know if Corbin had suggested it or whether Bertila had made the decision alone.

  Normal conversation resumed over the meal, but Luke was anxious to get away, making the excuse that he had been up before dawn. It was clear from Pippa’s face that she did not want to leave, which made Luke all the more determined. He thanked Bertila, shook Corbin by the hand and nodded to a still-seated Peveril.

  The sun, low in the western sky, made it dusk enough for them to need a few minutes to get used to the gloom. Luke strode off and Pippa had to run to keep up, but that did not stop her from venting her anger.

  “Why did we have to leave so early? I could see that Bertila was disappointed.”

  “I think the only thing that disappointed Bertila was you making sheep’s eyes at Peveril.”

  “For the first time since I came here, I had an opportunity to laugh and enjoy myself. I like Bertila, but you hardly gave us time to become acquainted. Indeed the way you upped and made your farewells almost before you had finished chewing the last mouthful was discourteous.”

  “Seeing that you shouldn’t have been there in the first place, think yourself fortunate.”

  “I was invited.”

  “Aye, after you behaved like a common harlot in front of Peveril and the brainless coxcomb decided you were easy meat.”

  Pippa grabbed his arm. He could not see her face, but he heard the tears in her voice. “I have never behaved like a harlot, Luke Ballard. You take those words back.”

  Luke wrenched his arm away. “I will not. You stood there like a whore from the stews parading her wares, and don’t think that I have forgotten you find Peveril to be the most handsome man you have ever met.” For the last few words, he assumed a high-pitched parody of her voice.

  “You are jealous.”

  Luke gave a shout of laughter. “Jealous of what? That a chit of a girl who does not know her place thinks she is wife material for the first knave who looks at her? Think on, you are housekeeper to an apothecary, not the daughter of the head of the apothecaries in the Grocers’ Company. You are as far below Mistress Quayne as I am below the King.”

  “Who goes there?” A gruff voice challenged them.

  Luke cursed under his breath. They had walked right up to the palace gates, oblivious to the danger. He raised his voice. “It is Master Ballard, the apothecary, together with his housekeeper.”

  “And what,” asked another voice, “were you saying about the King?”

  Luke recognized the gruff tones of Byram Creswell, who had been searching for Robin that morning, and cursed again. “I beg pardon. I was merely saying that the King is as far above me as my friend’s daughter is above my housekeeper.”

  The captain grabbed a torch from the stanchion and illuminated their faces. He looked at Pippa and laughed. “I would say most women were above this yard of pump water.”

  Out of the range of the light from the torch, Luke kicked Pippa’s ankle and prayed that she would not respond. “I wager you would be right, sir. Now, I have an early start to look for herbs, so pray you, may we pass?”

  The captain glanced at his subordinate and nodded. Luke and Pippa walked to the back of the house and into the yard in silence. It was not until he had lit a candle that he saw she had tears streaming down her face. His anger vanished in an instant and his voice became gentle.

  “You are lucky, Pippa. In our anger we both forgot where we were. His insult is a small price to pay for our continued freedom. Now, it is late and I am tired. I will bid you goodnight.”

  Without another word, Luke climbed the stairs. Earlier in the evening when Pippa had been fetching water to wash in, he had secreted half a loaf, cheese, apples and some small beer in his room. He now put these into a bag. He thought that Pippa might have trouble getting to sleep. The night had been a mix of emotions for her and he knew her feelings had been wounded by Creswell’s comment. He visualized a slumber covering and sent it down the stairs to cover her pallet.

  Opening the door a short time later, he stood listening. All was silent, but there was no point in risking a journey through the kitchen. He went back into his chamber and wrapped Joss around his body in her sling. It was not the first time they had climbed out of the window into the depths of the chestnut tree that grew in the yard. Sliding inch by inch down the trunk and straining his ears to catch the slightest sound he gained the ground at last and stopped again to listen. Nothing. He undid the sling and Joss landed at his feet, shaking herself a little, tongue lolling, tail wagging as if it was all a huge joke.

  Moving from shadow to shadow, he finally reached the apple store in the orchard and eased the door open. There was a slight movement above his head.

  “Robin.” His voice was hardly more than a whisper.

  “Master Ballard.”

  “I bring food. Stay hidden. I have an idea to get you away, but it may take
some days to accomplish.”

  “I had thought of swimming the river and taking my chance.”

  “No, don’t. If you are caught you will certainly go the same way as Gethin Pitt. Give me three days.”

  “Time hangs heavy. I am used to being busy, Master Ballard.”

  Luke stifled the inclination to throw up his hands in frustration. Why were the young so resistant to taking instruction? “Then you must decide if staying quiet and close for three days is better than a traitor’s death,” he said in a matter-of-factly.

  “I am no traitor.”

  “Aye, I am certain that Gethin told them the same thing, and look what happened to him. Do as you are told, boy. Stay here and do not move. Find a nook that conceals you and do not stray far from it. If they are searching for you, this may be one of the places they look. Be ready. I will come again tomorrow night. I must go. Keep in good heart.”

  Robin seized the bag, upended the stone jar and slaked his thirst before crawling back into the corner. When he had seen the boy back out of sight, Luke concentrated on Robin’s hiding place. He put his hand in his scrip, pulled out a wrap of paper and shook the handful of the dust he used for Joss’s shimmer spells into his palm. There were times when he needed to take his greyspring into places where dogs were not permitted. He had complete confidence in the spell and his ability to judge its strength, so he had no qualms about using it on a person. The problem he now faced was to make an impenetrable cloak to cover Robin’s hiding place. He had added grains of silver for extra stability before leaving the house and now he warmed the dust, held his hands aloft and concentrated on forming the cloak. It shimmered in the darkness of the loft and Luke threw it over the corner. It was the best he could do in the time he had, but it should be enough to deflect a cursory search.

  He could hear the tread of the guard walking down the lane outside his back gate as he gained the shelter of the tree. It was some minutes before he dared to climb back into his chamber. He had to keep Robin Flete hidden until he had questioned him. And the most difficult thing about doing that would be ensuring that nobody saw him go to the apple loft, something that would be difficult if he were being watched. Tomorrow, also, he must make some form of peace with Pippa, but she was going to have to learn that sharp-tongued women soon fell foul of the authorities and to keep her counsel. With a sigh that was only partly fatigue, Luke fell into bed, feeling the comfort of Joss’s weight on his feet.