The Tudor Conspiracy

by C. W. Gortner

  I couldn’t take my eyes from her. She was, if possible, even more beautiful in candlelight, the flickering shadows heightening the smoky lapis of her eyes and the carmine of her lips. Her mysterious half smile was also unmistakable. I knew that look. I’d seen it before on other women’s faces—a seductive invitation.

  I rose to my feet. “I am honored by Her Majesty’s praise,” I said carefully.

  “As well you should be,” she said. “And I hear you may soon be granted a post in Ambassador Renard’s service. He, too, has been quite a favorite of the queen’s.”

  I detected an undertone in her voice, alerting me to a motive I couldn’t decipher. Was she warning me or merely making conversation? I sensed the latter possibility was unlikely. Sybilla Darrier struck me as a woman with a purpose for everything she did, and as I saw her gaze shift to where Elizabeth sat immobile on her chair, I tensed.

  She said, “Differences of faith can tear apart even those who should be closest.”

  Her words caught me off guard, as did Jane’s vehement response. “She hardly deserves our pity. Everyone knows she’s a heretic who has refused to convert, though the queen has ordered her repeatedly to submit.” She stared at Sybilla. “Were she not the queen’s sister, I daresay she’d be in the Tower by now. And you, my lady, should be more careful, given your family’s history. Surely you, of all people, would not wish to defy our sovereign.”

  I caught my breath at the malice lacing Jane’s voice. Sybilla, however, seemed unperturbed. “My dear,” she said, “you speak without thinking. Admirable as such fervor be, it ill becomes a maid, especially if one still has hopes to wed.”

  Jane’s expression faltered. At her side, Blackie started barking again. I did not betray my curiosity as I leaned over to pet the dog. The contention between Jane and Sybilla intrigued me, as did the fact that Sybilla’s time abroad could be due to a familial disgrace.

  “Ah,” said Sybilla, “and now it appears we’ve aroused Don Renard’s interest.” Following her glance to the group with the queen, I caught sight of the ambassador staring at us, his eyes smoldering as he took in Sybilla’s and my proximity. Bent over Blackie, ruffling his ears with one hand, I lifted my gaze. This time, I found covert complicity in Sybilla’s regard.

  “Audentes fortuna juvat,” she whispered, and her eyes gleamed.

  Fortune favors the bold.

  She had seen my hand shift surreptitiously from Blackie’s ears to his collar. Without looking away from her, I untied the lead. With a high-pitched bark, Blackie dashed forth. Jane came to her feet with a cry of dismay; I watched with my heart in my throat as the dog made his way directly toward Elizabeth, just as I hoped he might. Catching sight of the loose dog—something strictly forbidden at court and especially in the hall—the surrounding courtiers laughed and began stomping their feet. Frightened by the sudden pounding of their heels all around him, Blackie changed direction and swerved, his tail and ears tucked as he scampered in a full-blown panic toward the nobles idling by the hearth.

  Jane screamed. “No! Stop him! The fire!”

  Hearing her young lady-in-waiting’s outburst, Mary frowned, half-rising from her chair to peer at the creature running past her. With her compromised eyesight, the queen seemed unable to identify the reason for the commotion and let out a startled gasp—“God save us, a rat!”—for with his small size, shadowy color, and furtive speed, Blackie was indeed rodentlike.

  I started to regret having let him loose. Clearly I had overestimated Blackie’s ability to get through the crowd to the princess and thus gain me the opportunity I needed to approach her. As I saw Renard make a disgusted moue and step aside, opening a path to the hearth, I ran forward to cut Blackie off before he reached the painted screen shielding the fire and found himself trapped between the hearth and the queen’s company. He swerved again—and this time, to my relief, Elizabeth stood and called out to the dog.

  His ears perked as if he’d heard the clarions of salvation, Blackie flew to her. She scooped him up, murmuring as he went limp in her arms, his tongue lolling. I moved rapidly to her through the guffawing courtiers, knowing Jane Dormer would be right behind me. I had only seconds. As I neared, I extracted the folded note from my doublet.

  I held out my hands. Elizabeth extended the dog to me; our fingers touched. Her eyes widened slightly when she felt the note, and then she took it. Cradling the panting dog, I bowed to her and took a step back.

  Jane hurried up to us. “Oh, thank you! I’m so sorry! I had no idea Blackie would slip his lead. If it hadn’t been for Your Grace…” She seemed to have forgotten her prior disparagement of the princess, who regarded Jane with an impassive expression. I gave her Blackie. Jane clutched the dog, tears of relief spilling from her eyes. “Naughty dog!” she scolded softly in its ear. “You are a very naughty little dog! You scared me half to death.”

  Elizabeth did not speak. She shifted her regard to me with the impersonal courtesy she might have shown any well-intentioned stranger before she turned to her chair.

  Jane murmured to me, “I am indebted to you. If it is ever within my power to help you, I promise you need only ask.”

  “He was hardly in danger,” I said. My heart’s erratic hammer subsided. It had worked. Elizabeth had my note.

  I did not hear the queen’s approach until her voice startled me. “What is the meaning of this unseemly ruckus?” Jane and I reeled about, and I saw Mary lift her virulent stare past us to where Elizabeth stood, as if frozen, by her chair.

  “You have our leave to retire, madam,” the queen said coldly. “We’d not wish for such excitement to aggravate your already delicate constitution, nor, God forbid, induce another illness. And I suggest you think hard on what we have repeatedly asked of you. Remember, while we may be sisters, our patience is not without its limits.”

  Elizabeth’s entire face hardened. For a second, I forgot to breathe. I half-expected her to retort something inflammatory enough to truly seal her doom. Instead, she performed a curt curtsy and, with her hand closed over my note, strode without a word toward the hall doors, her slim black figure scything through the whispering courtiers.

  Beside me, Jane started to stammer out an apology.

  “Mistress Dormer,” cut in Mary, silencing her, “I’m not interested in your excuses. You are to make sure that lead is fastened henceforth. I only let you bring your dog into the hall tonight because you were so worried about leaving him alone. As both Mistress Darrier and I advised you when she gave you that dog, owning a pet is a responsibility. If you cannot care for it, then tell us now and we will find another person who can.”

  “Oh, no,” said Jane, with genuine concern in her voice, “I can care for him, Your Majesty. I promise you, it won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t.” Mary eyed her. “Now, pray return to your seat.”

  Jane clutched Blackie to her chest. With another grateful look at me, she scurried back to her stool. I only had a moment to wonder why Sybilla Darrier would have given the dog to a girl who so clearly disliked her before Mary turned the full force of her gaze to me.

  “I beg Your Majesty’s forgiveness,” I said. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

  Her face was inscrutable. “Master Prescott, you’re quick on your feet. It is an admirable quality I have come to appreciate, as it often averts disaster. But it seems to me that you need reminding of your proper station here. You are my servant. So take heed: I expect my servants to remain as far as they can from my sister. Do I make myself clear?”

  She did not wait for my reply. With a lift of her chin, she returned to her chair, as if I had ceased to exist.

  Chapter Six

  Dwarves tumbled in. The entertainment had begun, and Mary’s entire countenance lightened. She clapped her hands in delight as the dwarves, clad in spangled suits and belled caps, wrestled each other with abandon, slapping each other’s buttocks and exchanging ribald jests. I’d not have thought she’d enjoy this rambunctious d
isplay, but she seemed thoroughly pleased, shouting encouragement and tossing coins from a purse held by Lady Clarencieux even as the knot of black-clad Spaniards gathered about her frowned at such undignified behavior.

  I retreated to the cover of a shadow-drenched wall and seized a goblet from a passing wine server. I drank it down in a gulp, my hand trembling. Elizabeth had my note; now all I had to do was get through my appointment with Renard. It was clear to me that whatever was happening at court, the princess was indeed a prisoner. Mary had denied her leave to depart and treated her with a palpable disdain. I didn’t know for certain that Renard was responsible for all of it, but I’d seen him whisper in the queen’s ear moments before Elizabeth arrived. He’d alerted Mary to her sister’s absence, knowing it would infuriate her.

  Shifting my thoughts from the princess, I turned my attention to the company, focusing on Sybilla. She had glided to Lady Lennox’s side to exchange polite conversation, leaving Jane with her dog, now fully leashed and curled, exhausted, under her stool. Sybilla seemed at ease with the sour-faced Lady Lennox, whose Tudor blood made her someone of importance at court. It stood to reason Sybilla was therefore in high favor with the queen herself, as Lady Lennox seemed unlikely to squander her time on menials.

  Yet Sybilla had just helped me. Audentes fortuna juvat, she had said. Fortune favors the bold.

  My curiosity burned. She had expressed compassion for Elizabeth’s plight and somehow guessed what I was going to do, of that I was certain. She had known I needed to create a distraction so I could get close to Elizabeth, and it was why she had alerted me to Renard’s jealous scrutiny, warning me I didn’t have much time.

  Did she know something of the ambassador’s intent toward the princess?

  Was she a potential ally?

  My ruminations were interrupted by the sight of Courtenay. He had remained at the hearth, insolently leaning against the lintel, nursing a goblet, but now he was bowing low before the queen, as if requesting her leave to depart. I straightened up. I had deliberately stayed in the hall to ease any suspicions, but as the earl strode past me with a scowl plastered across his face, I realized the time had come for my next engagement.

  I beckoned Peregrine. “Go back to our rooms. I’ve some business yet to conclude.”

  He gaped at me. “Business?”

  “Yes. Now do as I say.” I had started to move past him when he suddenly grasped my arm. I stared at him. “I know what you’re going to do,” he said. “You’re going to follow Courtenay, aren’t you? Well, you shouldn’t. It’s not safe.”

  “Peregrine, let go of me—”

  “You don’t understand! While you chased after that stupid dog, I saw someone!”

  I paused, lifting my gaze to see Courtenay vanish through the same doors that Elizabeth had gone through. “Who?” I asked, returning to Peregrine. “Who did you see?”

  “There was a man watching you from that corner by the pillars. He’s wearing a black cloak and hood. He’s huge. I couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t seem friendly.”

  A shiver went through me. The shadow I’d glimpsed earlier: I was being watched. Was it someone in Renard’s pay? Had he already sent an agent of his after me?

  Had I been marked?

  “Where is he now?” I pried his fingers from my arm. “Stop acting so alarmed or everyone will notice. Pretend to look around, as if you forgot something.”

  Peregrine glanced about us. “No, I don’t see him. He’s not there. But he was!” His voice quavered. “I swear to you, he was watching you the entire time.”

  “I believe you. I do. But this can’t wait. So do as I say. Go back to our room and stay there. Don’t answer the door. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I pushed him toward the opposite entranceway. “Go. Now.”

  He left reluctantly, glancing at me over my shoulder. My night’s intake of wine turned sour in my belly. Pulling my cap lower on my head, I plunged through the hall doors and into darkened corridors that smelled of stale perfume and candle smoke. By exposing myself to reach Elizabeth, I’d taken a significant risk and heightened Renard’s suspicions even more, but I wasn’t going to let that, or any henchman of his, stop me. On the dais, the queen herself had singled Courtenay out, about to send him like a lackey to fetch Elizabeth from her rooms, but then he and Elizabeth behaved as if they’d never met. The sheer distance they’d kept from each other in the hall was enough to confirm that he was more than a mere companion she went riding with. He and Elizabeth were involved in something, and I intended to find out exactly what that something was.

  In the long gallery, bejeweled courtiers flittered past me. I feigned a drunken stagger that elicited a woman’s giggle and a man’s angry “Out of our way, sod!” As soon as the courtiers passed, I quickened my pace. Courtenay must have taken this gallery, but as I moved out of it, down a flight of stairs into a narrower passageway, I began to think I’d taken a wrong turn. Whitehall was a labyrinth I’d barely mastered, and I realized I was actually heading into the bowels of the palace, the damp rising off the stone flagstones.

  I cursed under my breath. I started to turn back and retrace my steps. I had surely lost Courtenay by now, and—

  The faint echo of voices reached me.

  I inched back toward where the passage rounded a corner. Two figures stood partially illumined by icy light coming from a poorly fitted postern door. The taller of the figures had his back to me, but I identified at once the distinctive black-and-white-draped arm at his hip, dangling silver points. The other figure was lithe, shorter by a head and swathed in a black mantle. A jolt of recognition set my blood to racing when I saw the alabaster oval of her face, framed by her fur-trimmed hood.

  I pulled out of sight, my heart pounding.

  It was Elizabeth, alone with Courtenay.

  “We must be careful,” I heard her say, the passage’s low vaulted roof amplifying her voice. “This game has become far too perilous.”

  “Game?” Courtenay gave a brusque laugh. “It’s gone far beyond that. We’re in a fight for our lives, now that your harridan sister means to set the Spaniard over us.”

  “You forget that my sister has not announced anything yet,” she countered. “It may be that this betrothal to Philip of Spain will never come to pass. Such affairs take time. There are a hundred complications that could interfere and—”

  “The only consideration is whether she’ll take your head before or after the wedding,” he cut in, with a callousness that chilled me. “Didn’t you hear how she spoke to you in the hall? She warned you before her entire bloody court! Elizabeth, you cannot play both sides anymore. Mary will move against you. She’ll see you to the scaffold even if she has to execute every Protestant from here to Dover to achieve it.”

  “Careful, cousin.” Elizabeth’s voice turned hard. “You speak of my sister. Besides, she has not done anything to me yet. I am still in the succession by our father’s will.”

  Courtenay laughed. “Henry also named your aunts and their children after you. Mary will see you dead or disinherited, and put that sour bitch Lennox in your place, until she gets with child by Philip. You know it and so do I. Are you going to submit? Will you sacrifice your very right to be queen to Mary’s unholy Hapsburg alliance?”

  “God’s teeth, I’ve heard enough!” Elizabeth exclaimed. She paused, lowering her voice to a hiss. “What would you have me do, eh? I’m watched day and night by her spies, by the ladies she’s set in my chambers, by the very laundress who washes my linens! Since I came to court, I’ve been on the edge of an abyss. I do not intend to submit. But neither do I mean to lose my head over it. If it comes to it, I’ll do what I must to survive.”

  “Meaning what? You’ll kiss the pope’s arse, and Philip of Spain’s, too?”

  His tone was so taunting, I had to brave another look. I saw him reach for her, as if to take her hands, and she recoiled. “You would have me build my own scaffold.”

  “I do not force you to anything,” he repl
ied. “But you heard your sister: The time for prevarication is over. Trust in Dudley and me, if nothing else. Only we can see you safe.”

  My entire being froze. Dudley: He spoke of Robert Dudley, my former master, Northumberland’s favored son and Elizabeth’s childhood friend, whom Mary had confined in the Tower with his brothers—Robert Dudley, who stood condemned of treason.

  Elizabeth had gone utterly still. The moments passed like years, weighted with her unspoken reflection. Then she said quietly, “Here it is.” She parted her cloak. From within its pocket, she retrieved a small package and handed it to him. Drawing her cloak back about her figure, she gestured to the postern door. “Now call for your man to accompany me to my rooms. I feel a headache coming on. I need to rest.”

  My mind keeled as Courtenay avidly thrust the package into his own cloak. I stood as if paralyzed, trying to make sense of what I’d just seen, barely registering the figure that came through the postern door. It stepped forth purposefully, a gloved hand held up, detaining Elizabeth. Then it pointed that same hand to where I lurked. The princess turned to Courtenay, frowning. In that instant, I recalled what Peregrine had told me. He’s wearing a black cloak and hood. He’s huge. I couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t seem friendly.

  I took one look at the man’s bulk, at the shapeless cloak and cowl that concealed him from head to foot, and realized I had been mistaken. Renard hadn’t set a man to trail me. The shadow watching me in the hall, the figure standing there now, pointing at me, was a hireling of Courtenay’s. As I heard Courtenay curse and Elizabeth gasp, I spun around to race back the way I’d come, my footsteps like thunderclaps in my ears.

  The long gallery was dark, a lone cresset sputtering oily flame high on a far wall, throwing more shadow than light. I was gasping for air, had to make myself breathe through my nose as I pitched myself headfirst into the nearest recessed window bay.

  Moments later, Courtenay appeared, Elizabeth close behind him, her hood drawn up over her head. “Are you sure?” she asked anxiously.