And Less Than Kind

by Mercedes Lackey

  Aurilia shrugged indifferently. "Then when you send him back to London, you need only twist time so that he arrives only a few moments after he left."

  That was true enough, Vidal thought, his teeth set hard; his glance at Aurilia was angry. He remembered better, absorbed all the details better, when he stripped information from a mind. Aurilia, he thought, was all too fond of this human. When Mary was on the throne and power was pouring into the Unseleighe, he would truly strip Albertus. Then he would have the secret of that cloudy blue potion Aurilia loved so well, and he would have a much tighter rein on her behavior.

  "Well?" he said to Albertus.

  "What I know for fact is that the king will be dead in a few hours. What I have gathered from a word here and a word there and put together with guesses is that Northumberland has forced the Council and the Court in general to agree to set Mary aside. The reason he gave to Edward was that Mary was declared a bastard when Henry's marriage to her mother was declared invalid."

  "Then Elizabeth must die in the next few hours!" Vidal exclaimed.

  "How?" Aurilia asked, smiling with lifted brows. "Hatfield is not a great keep, but it is a strong house and Elizabeth has a large troop of defenders guarding the place. No one is allowed admittance so there can be no human assassin. A whole army would be needed to break Hatfield, which would scarcely go unnoticed. And you cannot send any from Underhill to kill her. So open a defiance of Oberon and Titania will not go without reprisal."

  "But she will be dead!" Vidal's calm had cracked and blue flickered over his fingers.

  Albertus's knees gave way and he sank down on the floor, sobbing.

  "Will she?" Aurilia asked, ignoring her henchman's terror. "Where are the mages you called to do away with Denoriel in that unformed land? One Elizabeth caved in like an eggshell and translocated to the Void; the other lost both his legs when she melded them with what he stood upon. Sufficiently aroused, Elizabeth can protect herself all too well."

  Vidal snarled and Aurilia lifted a hand.

  "No, no," Albertus whimpered; if Aurilia lost the confrontation, he would have no protection against Vidal. "Northumberland does not intend to put Elizabeth on the throne. He knows he cannot declare one daughter bastard and the other legitimate. Elizabeth is also named bastard and unfit to rule. Northumberland has another candidate for the throne and, I have heard it whispered, has forced nearly the entire Court to sign the device naming Lady Jane Grey queen."

  "Ah." Aurilia nodded. "The pale weeping girl the FarSeers see come and go in the black pool. But the image is so unstable. If she rules, it will not be for long."

  "Oh." Vidal's ill humor eased. "Well a civil war will be good for us." Then his expression darkened. "But Mary has no common sense. Unlike Elizabeth she has taken few precautions to protect herself. She has only twenty or so guardsmen, and the gentlemen of her household are not so young and were never soldiers."

  "You cannot send Underhill creatures to protect her," Aurilia exclaimed, sounding really horrified. "As it is half of England believes Catholics are allied with the devil and the pope is his vicar on earth. You cannot surround Mary with such forces or she will not be able to rule."

  "Of course not." Vidal laughed. "Albertus has hired for me a force of humans who have no connection with the devil aside from preferring the Catholic rite. They will all fight for Mary." He turned to look at Albertus who had, trembling, climbed to his feet. "That is correct, is it not?"

  "Yes, my lord." Albertus nodded eagerly. "As you bid me, I told Howard-Mowbray not to dismiss the men and I supplied him with the coin you provided to pay them. I believe that most of the men he hired are of the Catholic persuasion and will be eager to protect Lady Mary and be faithful to her."

  "That is excellent," Vidal said, calm again. "You told me that this Howard-Mowbray is able to use his head, so your orders to him will be simply to protect Mary in any and every way he can, not only fight for her but try to enlist others in her cause. Gold will be forthcoming if it is needed. But he is not to try to prevent a civil war. Let them fight, so long as Mary is safe and can rule when the fighting is over."

  Aurilia nodded. "Very clever, my lord, just what we need." She looked toward Albertus. "And to help matters along, you will go with them, Albertus. Keep a watching over this Howard-Mowbray. If he disobeys, slip away and let me or Prince Vidal know."

  "It might not be easy for me to get away if Howard-Mowbray plans to violate his trust," Albertus said weakly.

  "I will give you several amulets," Aurilia said. "When you invoke one, no one will notice you. You will not be invisible. If you touch someone they will feel it and be able to see you. But if you are clever, no one's eyes will fix on you so you will be able to escape to London, from where you can Gate here."

  By Tuesday, July 11th, Elizabeth was nearly hysterical with anxiety. Since Northumberland's letter had arrived on the 4th, her fate had been more and more in doubt. On July 6th there had been several small parties that rode by and even around the estate. Sir Edward believed they were scouting parties to examine the defenses of Hatfield. Sir Edward had suggested a retreat to Donnington, which was well fortified and safer, but Elizabeth was afraid to move and when Harry met her in Llachar Lle the night of the 7th, he advised against it. It was important, he felt, that Elizabeth seem less cautious than she and her advisors were. If Hatfield were attacked, Harry pointed out, Denno would Gate her to Donnington. Once she was gone, her household would be safe and could follow.

  In the inn in Hatfield town on the 8th, Sir Edward heard that the king was dead—the news was all over London and was freely talked of in the tap room. And Elizabeth had a letter from a lady at the Court which she read aloud, pale-faced and thin lipped, describing how, on Sunday, July 9th, Bishop Ridley had preached against both her and Mary, calling them bastards and unworthy of the throne. The same letter mentioned a meeting of the Council that very day, not in Greenwich or Whitehall but in Syon House, Northumberland's residence.

  On July 10th a hastily and ill-written letter came to the house on Bucklersbury from Cecil. It exposed the device that disinherited both Mary and Elizabeth and named Jane Grey as Edward's heir; Cecil also reported he had heard rumors an armed troop had been sent to take Mary prisoner. He was free at last to send news, he explained, because Jane had been brought into the Tower, the traditional place for a monarch to wait coronation. She had been proclaimed queen in London—which had greeted the proclamation with sullen silence.

  With considerable effort Elizabeth neither screamed nor threw anything. How would Mary react? Elizabeth could do nothing. While Mary lived—as she herself had told Northumberland when he wanted her to sign away her right to the throne—she had no right at all. She could not protest against Northumberland's attempt to wrest the throne out of the direct line. The right to act was Mary's.

  Elizabeth did not doubt Mary's courage to fight for what she wanted. She had seen her sister stand up against Henry himself, against Edward, and against the whole Council for the sake of her religion. But Elizabeth also knew Mary had never desired the throne, never wanted to rule. Poor Mary, she had desperately wanted to marry, to be her husband's comfort and helpmeet, to have children . . . most of all to have children. Would Mary fight for the throne, or would she accept a marriage to a suitable prince that would take her out of England?

  On Tuesday July 11th, Elizabeth was so waspish that all her ladies, stung once too often, found good reason to seek employment out of her sight. Seemingly annoyed, she begged Kat to sleep in her chamber instead of one of the girls. That was not Kat's duty, but Elizabeth merely said she wanted her.

  The truth was that Kat was the only one who might come in the middle of the night with tinctures or possets to calm Elizabeth, who wanted her governess in a sound bespelled sleep. With Kat asleep Elizabeth would not need to worry that Kat would get by Blanche and discover her absence. And Elizabeth intended to attend the meeting regularly held in the Inn of Kindly Laughter on mortal Tuesday nights.

>   Jaws clamped together on hasty words, Elizabeth allowed Blanche to array her in a night rail, allowed herself to be tucked into bed and kissed on the forehead by Kat, waited, hardly grinding her teeth together, for Kat to settle herself into the truckle bed . . . and then at last muttered the bod cyfgadur spell. Barely had Kat's eyes closed when Elizabeth sprang out of bed and ran into Blanche's room where she twitched, mouthed imprecations, and pulled her night rail this way and that until Denoriel appeared in the Gate.

  "Let us go. Let us go," she urged, rushing at him. "I must hear what Rhoslyn has to say. I should have made you take me to the Inn of Kindly Laughter last Tuesday, but—"

  "It would have done no good," Denoriel said soothingly. "Last Tuesday Rhoslyn knew no more than you. Mary also had a letter from Northumberland summoning her to Edward's deathbed. Last Tuesday Mary had not yet decided whether she should go and try to save Edward's soul or take refuge."

  Elizabeth made some wordless sound of impatience and Denoriel took her hand and stepped back into the Gate. As they arrived at the Gate of Logres, Miralys appeared.

  "What would you like to wear?" Denoriel asked as he turned to the elvensteed to mount.

  "Oh, can we not go directly to the Inn of Kindly Laughter?" Elizabeth begged. "I do not care what I wear. Just anything that you can make on me. I could even stay in the night rail. No one Underhill is likely to know it is a night rail—"

  "You are absolutely right about that," Denoriel said, laughing. "But I would have a dozen offers for you every third step we take. That gown is a little revealing."

  Elizabeth looked down at herself, saw her dark rose nipples pressing forward against the nearly transparent lawn, saw the shadow of bright red curls on her mount of Venus. Color rose in her cheeks, but before she could turn beet red or speak, she was dressed in black boots over long black hosen, a white shirt, open at the neck and with wide sleeves buckled at the wrists, a light blue tunic that almost reached her knees belted in soft black leather, and a little hat with a feather. Absently Denno had made indentations in the brim of the hat for long Sidhe ears, which called attention to Elizabeth's human ears, but before Elizabeth could mention it, they were back on the Gate and at the Bazaar of the Bizarre.

  In spite of Denoriel being far taller than Elizabeth with much longer legs, she was ahead of him past the first cautionary sign: NO SPELLS, NO DRAWN WEAPONS, NO VIOLENCE . . . ON PAIN OF PERMANENT REMOVAL and then past the second, which to her read CAVEAT EMPTOR and to Denno YMOGELYD PRYNWR. He caught up with her as she stepped through the market gates and turned to look for the sign of the inn.

  He was just in time, as a long-legged creature with a head remarkably like a grasshopper and burnished golden scales reached for her arm, saying, "Whither away pretty mortal?"

  "Not for sale," Denoriel said, interposing his body before the clawed hand could fasten on Elizabeth's sleeve.

  "I assure you the mortal would be with her own kind and well treated," the creature said earnestly.

  "Not for sale because she is a free person with all rights owing to any person in the Bazaar of the Bizarre."

  "Ah. Then I must address myself to the person herself."

  "Good sir or madam," Elizabeth said with a brief curtsey, "do forgive me for being less than polite, but I am in great haste."

  "But I can offer you such delights as will make haste unnecessary forever."

  Elizabeth shivered. "I am mortal. My life is short. Haste is natural to us and gives us pleasure. Forever is difficult even to believe in. Do pardon us and let us go on our way."

  At which moment a flying creature trailing a cloth emblazoned with "Tafarn Caredig Chewerthin" came to a hover before them. Although there was no breeze, the emblazoned cloth streamed away from the flyer.

  "That is the inn we want," Denoriel said.

  "For what do you need an inn?" the golden-scaled creature asked irritably. "I can furnish—"

  But before any more words were spoken, the entrance to the inn was no more than a few steps away, down an opening in the stalls that Elizabeth had not seen before. Ordinarily she would have asked—not how the inn could appear where it had not been moments earlier, but what would happen if two different parties wished to find the place at the same time. In this case, Elizabeth was so intent on seeing Rhoslyn and learning what Mary's decision was, if Mary had come to a decision, that she simply shook her head at the golden-scaled creature and rushed in the entrance.

  There was a corridor, a feature Elizabeth did not recall but to which she paid no attention, and a faint sense of disorientation, which was common enough anywhere Underhill that it made no special impression. Then she and Denoriel were in the common room. Elizabeth looked to the left and back against the wall. Aleneil and Harry were already seated opposite each other at the table for four, which would have room for more if more arrived.

  "Da, have you had any news?" Elizabeth asked, rushing to the table.

  "No more than what Aleneil has already told you," Harry said, getting to his feet and embracing Elizabeth. He kissed her on the forehead and pressed her into a chair now next to his. "Jane is lodged in the Tower and Northumberland has sent out heralds and trumpeters to proclaim her queen."

  Elizabeth did not react to that. Denno had already told her how the crowds in London had stared in silence, not one person aside from the archers sent to save the heralds from being torn apart had cried "God save Queen Jane." Elizabeth was not surprised. She had a sure instinct for how the people of England would react to what those who governed them did. She knew that her sister Mary was dearly beloved, her kindness and generosity to the humble folk widely known.

  "His men have not taken Mary, have they?" Elizabeth looked up at him anxiously.

  "That I cannot answer, my love," Harry said, sitting down again. "My eyes and ears are the servants in the Court and in a number of households—including that of Northumberland. I would think they would have picked up on the excitement if Mary were taken prisoner, but—

  "No, she is still free. But I do not know for how long."

  Chapter 10

  Rhoslyn's voice was high and strained. Harry jumped to his feet and drew her to the table, where another chair had appeared.

  "You look so tired, Rhoslyn," he said, urging her wordlessly to be seated.

  "I am tired," Rhoslyn admitted with a sigh. "I have been riding with Mary since she had warning on the evening of July sixth that Robert Dudley and three hundred men were preparing to take her prisoner."

  "Who?" Elizabeth asked eagerly. "Who sent warning? We had no word and you know Cecil is usually faithful. Denno and I agree that he must have known spies were set on him to prevent him from telling me of Northumberland's plans."

  "I think Cecil was 'discouraged' from leaving the palace for his own home," Denoriel said. "I tried once to see him and sent my man by his house to other places on Canon Row. Cropper said he thought Cecil's house was watched."

  "The man who came with the warning was a goldsmith from Greenwich," Rhoslyn said, replying to Elizabeth's question. "He said he had the warning from Sir Nicholas Throckmorton and made no secret of the fact that Throckmorton and he were Catholics."

  Elizabeth shook her head. "I do not remember him from my time at Court."

  "I imagine he would stay clear of you, sweeting," Harry said. "Dear sweet Sister Temperance was not likely to look on him with favor."

  "Even Mary does not remember Sir Nicholas, but she did remember his father, Sir George, and that her father had trusted him. The men of her household, thank the Mother, were already fearful for her safety and among us we convinced her to leave her household at Hoddesdon, take the few fresh horses we could find, and steal away." Rhoslyn closed her eyes. "But we have been riding ever since."

  "And on mortal horses too."

  Pasgen's sour comment drew everyone's eyes. He had just come from the entrance to stand behind his sister's chair. He put a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Opposite her place at the table, a chair
appeared to Aleniel's left. Pasgen patted Rhoslyn's back and went by to seat himself.

  "But I will say," he continued "that Lady Mary has a far more iron will than I had ever suspected. She is not well or strong, and yet she rode with us without faltering."

  Rhoslyn sighed again. "We did over twenty miles that night, riding until we could not see at all and then resting until the moon rose and riding again. We stayed with Master John Huddleston—also of Mary's faith; they look to her to bring back the Catholic Church in its entirety and are truly devoted. He found us fresh horses and we heard Mass at first light—Huddleston has a Catholic chaplain—and rode on again."

  "But Mary is safe now?"

  Rhoslyn raised her brows as she looked at Elizabeth, who had asked the question. "You seem very concerned. I must warn you that Lady Mary is . . . is not at all certain what she feels about you."

  Elizabeth shrugged. "I know that. Mostly she dislikes me. That is nothing to do with my concern. If anything ill befalls Mary, I will be blamed, no matter that I had nothing to do with it. I am worried about my own reputation." She hesitated, then went on. "And a little for Mary. I remember that she brought me gifts of toys and clothing when she had next to nothing herself."