Court of Conspiracy

by April Taylor

  Without being asked, Pippa busied herself with ale. She left Luke and Dufay chatting at the table and moved about tidying and collecting the ale barm from the barrel. “I see you have no bread, sir. Would you like me to make some?”

  “I would prefer you to sit for a few moments.” Dufay waited until she seated herself next to Luke on the bench opposite the Elemagus. “I am more than a little worried by both of you,” he continued.

  “Why?” asked Luke.

  “Have either of you been into the palace in the last day or so?”

  “Aye, both of us.”

  Dufay’s face cleared. “That accounts for it, then. You both reek of diablerie, and there are enough black thoughts and actions going on in the royal court to deflower St Agnes.”

  He stood up. “I will need to cleanse you both before we do another thing. You’d best go and wash. I’ll find some clean smocks.”

  Luke, ready first, took only a few moments to purify, but Pippa appeared to be more of a struggle. She stood quietly enough whilst Dufay cleansed Luke, but when both men turned round, she was swaying with her eyes half-closed, shaking her head in a negative. Was that the aftermath of her upset over Ajax, Luke wondered, or something much more unsettling, such as the influence of Geoffrey Peveril? He could see a question in Dufay’s eyes, too.

  “What about using the garnet?” he suggested.

  “It will not be strong enough. I need to use the veritas spell.” Dufay’s shoulders sagged.

  “Veritas spell? I have not heard of that.”

  “No,” Dufay said. “It is seldom performed because it is extremely complicated and leaves the elemancer so fatigued as to be open to attack. I have only used it once.”

  “Am I permitted to ask?” Luke said.

  Dufay sighed. “It was many years ago when I had only just achieved Dominus status. Usually it is only an Elemagus who performs this spell, such is its power. I was asked by...no, that is a confidence too far. You will shortly be a Dominus, Luke, and will have to know the basics of it.”

  “It must have been a serious matter for you to attempt it, sir.”

  “I cannot tell you directly what happened, but let us say that when his late majesty was pursuing the annulment of his marriage with Queen Katherine he needed to know, for the sake of a quiet conscience, the truth regarding her first wedding night with his brother.”

  “And that was when you used the spell before?”

  “Aye.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “If you did the late King such a signal service, why are you not lauded at court and living in luxury?”

  “It was offered. But I am not a man of action, performing daring deeds and glorying in popularity. I prefer the quiet life, my books and my work. I feel more comfortable and effective pursuing my studies of numerology and astronomy. It is the balance, Luke. Physical action on one side and delving deeper into theories on the other. Both serve to check the enemy.” Dufay looked at Pippa. “Now I must prepare. I will put her into a sleep until I return. Wait here.”

  It was almost an hour before he came back in, dressed in the brilliant gold-and-green robes of an Elemagus. With him he carried a small flask. “Before we begin, have you noticed a proliferation of crows just lately?”

  “No.”

  “Keep a look out for them.”

  “Why?”

  “I do not want to commit myself just yet, but please tell me if you see two or three accompanying you.”

  Luke nodded and watched Dufay guide the still-sleeping Pippa to a chair opposite them. He took the top from the flask and held his palm down over the open neck. Slowly his hand appeared to be coated with a bright blue film. Bunching his hand, he opened his fingers and made a throwing motion into the girl’s face. Pippa, eyes still closed, took a deep breath. The blue sparkles of light entered her open mouth, her nose and her ears.

  Dufay watched her for a few moments, then nodded. He was about to begin his questioning when Luke tapped his arm.

  “Ask her what her name is.”

  After a fleeting look at the apothecary, Dufay turned back to Pippa. “What is your name?”

  “Philippa Gardiner.”

  Dufay glanced again at Luke, who was biting his bottom lip and staring at the girl. Collecting his thoughts Dufay turned once more to Pippa. “Why did you tell everyone your name was Garrod?”

  “I did not want to be found.”

  “By whom?”

  “My aunt and uncle.”

  “Why?”

  “They were hateful. I ran away.”

  Luke could keep silent no longer. “Where are your parents?”

  “Dead.”

  Dufay took a breath, but Luke raised his hand and the Elemagus frowned and then nodded.

  “Where do your aunt and uncle live?”

  “In Suffolk.”

  “Why did you tell me you lived in Norfolk?”

  “I did until my parents died.”

  “Where?”

  “At Blickling.”

  Under the power of this spell, Pippa had no option but to tell the truth. He had to continue the questioning just to make sure, but he berated himself for assuming the worst about her because of her preoccupation with Peveril and his concern for Bertila. He had jumped to conclusions based on prejudice. If he could make so basic an error, what others had he made? Had he been on the wrong track all along? The only thing to do now was continue.

  “Why would your parents send you to people who ill-treated you?”

  “There was nobody else. The Reeve said I had to go even though he knew my aunt and my father were estranged.”

  “Why were they estranged?”

  “My parents loved Queen Anne. My aunt and uncle hate her. They love the Lady Mary and hate the King.”

  “And your cousin?”

  “Cecily loves only Cecily. And power.”

  Luke could see that Dufay was becoming impatient and knew that he had to move on.

  “You took your vows as Philippa Garrod,” he said next.

  Pippa’s voice stumbled. “Aye, sir.”

  “Luke.” There was a warning in Dufay’s voice.

  “I beg pardon, sir. I know which questions to ask. With respect, you did not.”

  “Mayhap. However, you do not know how to sort through this tangle. I do. No wonder I’ve had such trouble with her.”

  “What will you do?” Luke asked.

  “Leave her with me. I’ll have to initiate her all over again, but I’ll make sure she was sincere about not continuing her affair with Peveril.”

  Luke put out a hand. “You felt the diablerie on Pippa after she had been in her cousin’s company. Cecily is in the Lady Mary’s entourage, so it must be she who is our secret foe in this matter,” he said.

  Dufay looked at him, frowning. “You are a good elemancer, Luke. You will have no problems attaining the level of Dominus, but you must pay more attention to wider implications than you do. You have a tendency to make instant deductions based on little evidence and do not look for confirmation of them. Life, in any sphere, is made up of questioning everything and not acting like a blind man accepting alms.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You need to heighten your political awareness if you are to gain true success in your career as well as improve your magic. It is all very well having a few rich clients and saying they are enough to enable you to give free help to the poor. Laudable though that be, you must look at the world from a wider perspective and see its potential. With more rich clients, you could offer more effective remedies to the poor because you would have enough money to buy the expensive ingredients some medicines need.”

  “What is that to do with the trai
torous actions of the Lady Mary?”

  “Are you certain it is the Lady Mary?”

  “Who else could it be?”

  “Think, Luke. You are accepting as truth what you have been told. You mention the Lady Mary as if she is the only threat to King Henry, but sit and think clearly with no favor for one faction or another. There are many who would like to see the end of the King, not just his Catholic half sister.”

  “Who else?”

  “Do not forget the terms of the late King’s will. You have not taken into account that this could all be part of a plot against the Lady Mary herself.”

  “Now I am confused,” Luke said, running his fingers through his hair.

  “Then think on this. Should the King die and the Lady Mary be found guilty of his murder, who is next in line to the throne?”

  “The Princess Elizabeth.” Luke said slowly.

  “Aye,” Dufay said, turning back to Pippa. “And do not forget that she is married to Robert Dudley, son of the Duke of Northumberland and grandson of Henry VII’s most rapacious minister. The Dudleys are an ambitious family. It would not surprise me if this is all part of a Dudley plot to put Elizabeth on the throne with Robert Dudley as King.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  As he left Dufay’s house, Luke pondered the Elemagus’s words. The last thing he needed was another complication to this already tangled plot. It was a wonder King Henry IX managed to climb out of bed each morning. Not only did the Catholics want him dead, it was also possible that the Merchant Adventurers had decided a new, sympathetic monarch would be in their interests. Now it looked equally feasible that Robert Dudley and the Puritan faction might have ambitions to put Princess Elizabeth on the throne. Then again, it could be anybody settling a score against the regime.

  It was beyond argument that Henry VIII had made plenty of enemies by the time he died. Participants in the Pilgrimage of Grace were mostly dead too, but sons might feel beholden to revenge themselves on Great Harry’s whelp. To mount the series of attacks on the King took money and resources. The quality of Bell’s gloves was evidence of that. If their adversary was willing to pay Bell so handsomely, how much was he paying the other conspirators, especially those with close access to Henry? It was only by the mercy of God that the King was still alive.

  Thinking about God, Luke bent his footsteps to the church at Hampton where Goodwife Pitt had been found. He had what he needed in his scrip to test his theory of diablerie. His thoughts, though, were concentrated on Pippa. She had never said her aunt and uncle lived in Norfolk, only that her parents did. It was Luke himself who had made the error. Her reasons for giving a false name rang true, as indeed they must under the influence of the veritas spell. It was only when he came close to the church that he felt a great weight had fallen from his mind. Pippa was not a liar or a spy. She had simply fallen in love with a dissembling wretch, but had seen sense and put an end to the relationship. Peveril was out of their lives. Luke’s shoulders sagged in relief.

  With a lighter heart, he laughed and patted Joss before lifting the keeper on the gate. As he entered the churchyard, he became aware that all here was silent. He knew, immersed as he had been in his thoughts on his walk from the Elemagus’s house, he had passed many people going about their business. Some had been carting loads of chopped wood to be stacked up ready for the winter; others had been carrying empty baskets on their way to market or full ones on their way back.

  But here, just inside the churchyard gate, all was still. He swung round and looked back toward the distant palace. There were people in evidence, but none were close by. As he turned back to the church, he noticed that no insects buzzed or birds sang here, something that disturbed him more than the lack of people. He examined nearby trees, but not only was no birdsong audible, there were no birds visible, crows included.

  He walked with Joss at his heels once around the church. The only thing to draw his eyes was the bare heaped patch of soil, the last resting place for Gethin’s mother. After some moments, he knelt at the side of the grave and said prayers for the repose of her soul. He added heartfelt prayers for the repose of Gethin’s soul, but believed the boy, being innocent and so foully murdered, already rested in paradise.

  Part of him knew he was only putting off the moment when he had to go inside the church. He must see for himself just where the poor woman had met her end and try to reconcile what he had seen in his trance with Bertila’s account.

  He stood up, set his shoulders and walked back round to the huge west door. Signaling to Joss that she should stay outside, he prepared to meet whatever was waiting for him. Luke opened the door and stepped into the gloom of the church.

  * * *

  Pippa tried so very hard not to cry. Had Master Dufay shouted and railed at her, she would have felt enough indignation to keep the tears at bay. As it was, he seemed to be looking into her very soul, and she could see from the expression on his face that he was troubled more than angry.

  “I am sorry for what I did,” she said at last. “I had no idea that using a different name could put me in harm’s way.”

  “Surely,” Dufay answered in a gentle tone, “it was obvious that the vows you took would be so much less because you took them in a name not your own. Did you not understand that?”

  “In truth, no. From the moment I ran away from the Messingham’s, I was no longer Pippa Gardiner, but Pippa Garrod. I cannot understand why it should make such a difference. I had chosen a new name.”

  “But you were presented to God at your baptism as Philippa Gardiner. Had you married, your name would have been changed before God. And yet you took your elemancer vows before Him, using a name not acknowledged by God. You are fortunate we discovered this—otherwise, had you proceeded further in your studies, your soul would have been forfeit. As it is, you have been open to the malus nocte. I can smell that you have been in contact with it. Luke is of the opinion that your cousin may be using dark powers to gain influence or worse.”

  “Nothing Cecily or my aunt and uncle did would surprise me, sir. What should I do now?”

  “I have vestments here. We must initiate you again in your true name. Let us do that without delay. I have much work on hand and cannot afford to leave my studies, but this is urgent and I must make time. We will need Hera and Ajax to reinforce your new vows and eradicate all trace of the false ones.” He fell silent for a moment, his head up like a fox sniffing the air, his eyes closed as if he had just detected a thought and needed to pin it down. “I will finish up my current research whilst you prepare yourself with prayers and clean clothes. Be ready in an hour,” he said, turning toward his room.

  “And afterwards?”

  “You may stay with me as my housekeeper or return to Master Ballard.”

  Pippa looked round the room. She was still in awe of the Elemagus, but his house was so much more comfortable than the cramped quarters Luke occupied. She curtsied. “I thank you for your generosity and help, sir. If it please you, I shall stay here.”

  Dufay nodded and hurried through the door.

  * * *

  When his eyes had accustomed themselves to the dim light, Luke stepped down onto the floor. His first thought as his feet hit the stone slabs was a grim realization that the interior was identical to that he had seen in his trance when he was questioning Goodwife Corbet. All senses alert, he walked up the aisle toward the altar. Halfway he stopped as if he had hit an invisible wall. He had seen horses shy at certain obstacles, but this was the first time he knew how they felt. It was not so much that he had physically collided with something, so much as his feet refusing to take another step forward.

  He took a few steps backward, studying the building. It was as if some invisible force had put up a barrier. He put his arm out in front of him and found that his hand felt as if he had thrust it into a pail of ice. Yet when he pulled
his arm back and examined his hand, it seemed much as usual, apart from the receding cold.

  He tried walking forward again and once more found that his feet would not obey his command. Anger combined with fear. He could feel it surging up around the back of his head, almost as if it were going to shoot out from his hair like a stream of arrows in the midst of battle. Through the discomfort, he could hear Roland Dufay’s voice urging him to use the power of his intent to punch a hole in the invisible wall and walk through it. Just as he was going to attempt it, the voice cautioned him to be calm and steadfast when he performed the spell, not angry and fearful. “It will turn your anger against you, otherwise,” the voice warned.

  Without pausing, Luke swung round and walked out into the churchyard. He needed germander to sweat the anger and fear from him and lavender to calm his mind and concentrate his thoughts. Joss reared to her feet when he appeared. The fur on her back rose as she looked at him. He motioned to her to stay and turned to survey the churchyard.

  Searching among the graves he knew he would find lavender easily enough, but it took him a while to spot the germander in a corner. He was halfway to it when his eyes registered a plant, very nearly dead, that looked as if it had tried to seed itself and failed. But this was no seedling. He knew those dull purple flowers tinged with green and the berries, although the two should not appear at the same time. Belladonna. Deadly nightshade. Luke frowned. It liked chalky soils and shade. It would not grow here. So, it must have been dropped here.

  Making sure that he touched neither flowers nor berries, Luke bent down and picked it up, his face grim. In an instant, the entire plant powdered into dust and a sudden breeze scattered it to the four winds. He was left looking down at the ground in confusion, unable to stop the thrill of fear that ran through him. This could be nothing else but a manifestation of the malus nocte. The enemy had killed Gethin using judicial means. No such crime could be brought home to his mother, so black sorcery had been invoked to deal with her. The proof had been in his hands until a few seconds ago. The belladonna flowers bloomed correctly for July but the berries that were so toxic to humans did not appear until September.