And Less Than Kind

by Mercedes Lackey

  After a little thought, Vidal picked up the note from Renard and studied it. He then checked to make sure his Otstargi disguise was perfect and set off for the Imperial residence. This once, he would need to forget he was a prince Underhill and act humble in order to catch and bind the man.

  The seal on the message from Renard gained him entry into the embassy. Vidal was even prepared to bow and say he would come again if Renard was not present, but he was fortunate. Renard was in the embassy. However, Jacques de Marnix, Sieur de Thoulouse, Renard's superior in birth if not in understanding, had Vidal brought to the embassy office to ask sharp questions.

  Alone as they were, Vidal easily solved the problem with one sharp thrust into Marnix's mind. Vidal then knew exactly what Marnix thought the situation was, and Marnix himself went off to fetch Renard. Having done so, he bowed himself out.

  Renard was no fool. He knew Marnix, knew that what Marnix had done was totally unnatural. Renard lowered his eyes to hide his thoughts and the ruby ring, glowing now like a hot coal, caught his gaze; his eyes widened and his mouth opened. Vidal struck.

  "Sit down in your usual place," Vidal said softly, and began to rummage through Renard's mind.

  He was gentle in his seeking. As time distanced him from his years of imprisonment, his natural imperiousness was coming back. However, he still remembered that force could not always get what he wanted. When he took control of Marnix, Vidal had seen Marnix's blended contempt and envy of Renard and understood that Marnix would damage Renard if he could. Thus, if Renard behaved in any way strangely or lost an iota of his sharpness, Marnix would send word of his failing to the emperor and have Renard recalled.

  Gently, then, Vidal wiped all suspicion of Otstargi from Renard's mind and replaced it with a measured respect for the sorcerer's good will and astuteness. He reached across the table, touched the ruby ring, and reinforced and altered the spell of compulsion. Now the ring would compel Renard to seek Otstargi only when Vidal wanted to talk to Renard; unless Vidal activated it with a thought it would be no more than a beautiful ruby ring.

  Now Vidal needed to decide whether he should implant the idea that Elizabeth must die into Renard's mind as a fixed, unbreakable conviction or tell him that Otstargi had foreseen many futures, in all of which by varying means and most often by doing nothing at all, Elizabeth caused Mary's reign to be overthown.

  Vidal would have preferred to fix Elizabeth's necessary death into Renard's mind, but he dared not do it. Renard needed to be able to convince Mary to have Elizabeth executed and to convince her he needed to be flexible, to argue the pros and cons of letting Elizabeth survive. Once a compulsion to cause Elizabeth's death was fixed into Renard's mind, his ability to reason on the subject would be gone. Vidal grimaced. Otstargi would need to convince Renard rather than tamper with the ambassador's mind.

  Having released his hold on Renard's mind, Vidal nodded, and as if Renard had asked why he had come, said, "I am glad you were willing to see me, Ambassador. Perhaps you do not believe in foreseeing or think it a sin, but without any asking on my part, indeed, when I was thinking about matters of trade and weather, for that is what most of my clients desire to know about, again and again I have seen . . . what I would rather not have seen."

  For a long moment Renard was quite still. Vidal felt a faint anxiety that he had damaged something in the man's mind, but then the ambassador's lips thinned and he cleared his throat.

  "You have seen something pertaining to a realm? To mine?"

  Vidal shook his head. "This one, England. For several weeks I have kept silent, but I admire Queen Mary and desire her to have a long and fruitful reign."

  "You have seen some threat to the queen? But I know you have contacts in the Court. Why did you not go to them?"

  "Because I dare not speak of this to any Englishman, most particularly any officer of the Court. What I have seen is treason to see, treason to speak of."

  Renard blinked and drew a breath. Vidal saw his mind take in the word treason, saw his thought that only foreseeing anything concerning the royal family was treason, but . . . Softly, gently, Vidal inserted a tendril to nudge Renard's half-formed thought into certainty; what the sorcerer had seen was about Elizabeth.

  "Ah," Renard said, "but if what you have seen concerns England, to speak of it would not be treason in my land. And, in this house, you are on Imperial soil."

  "Yes, my lord, that is true," Vidal agreed, forcing an expression of deep anxiety onto Otstargi's features. "But if you leave this house and mention my name when you speak of the matter, I am like to be hung, drawn, and quartered. I am afraid I am a fool for coming here, but with Queen Mary's reign so new and facing so many dangers and my great desire to make that reign sound and lasting, I have taken my life in my hands and come."

  Renard shrugged. "But if I cannot use what you tell me, what good does your coming to me do?"

  "Oh, no, my lord," Vidal said, shaking his head vigorously. "Of course you must use what I have seen in any way that will help the queen. I only beg you not to use my name, if any should ask why you advise what you advise."

  "Ah." Vidal could see Renard struggle against a smile, as if he found amusing the idea of admitting he was using information from a charlatan crystal gazer. "No," he continued when he had mastered his expression. "I can promise you sincerely, even give you my oath on my honor, never to use your name."

  "Thank you!" Vidal said fervently while needing to struggle against laughter himself. "It is . . . I have seen a dozen, no more, premature ends to the queen's reign. I have seen this caused by rebellion, I have seen this caused by the queen's illness owing to anguish, I have seen this caused by assassination . . . There is no need for me to detail the causes but only . . ." Vidal took a deep breath as if he were nerving himself to continue against his fear, and blurted, "Every disaster was caused by Lady Elizabeth."

  To Vidal's great pleasure, Renard did not look shocked. He merely nodded his head. "I am not surprised," he said. "Even about the vision of assassination. And I will make you a rich man if you can tell me how she does it and how we can stop her."

  "Alas, my lord—" Vidal shook his head again, but gently this time as with resignation "—most often the lady has done nothing at all. In one vision or another she has actually conspired with rebels, but most often she does not encourage them and sometimes does not even know what they are doing. It is her very existence that is a fatal danger to Queen Mary."

  "Ah . . . so I have always thought, Master Otstargi. I cannot say that I believe in your visions, but common sense raises the same specters in my far from fantastical mind. If you wish to be truly useful, tell me what to do about this."

  Vidal leaned forward earnestly. "The queen trusts you. She trusts you far more than she trusts any of her own ministers or courtiers. Do not mince your words about the danger to her that Lady Elizabeth's existence poses. You cannot repeat what you think often enough. And if she shrinks from kin-slaying, say that it is common knowledge that Elizabeth was not Henry's daughter but the product of some illicit contact."

  Renard uttered an impatient snort. "You have nothing new."

  "New? You need only tell her it is her uncle's will, that the Emperor Charles wants her freed from her sister's contamination."

  Renard jerked back, away from Vidal. "I would not dare. The emperor of course hopes for a long reign for Mary and that she will soon marry and produce an heir, but Charles is a cautious man. Until there is an heir of the queen's body, if any ill befall Queen Mary, the emperor insists Elizabeth must inherit the throne."

  "But she is a heretic!" Vidal protested. "She will bring back the heretical religion."

  "In this case, England's faith must come second to a more important problem. The next heir after Elizabeth is Mary of Scots—she who is betrothed to the heir to the French throne. It would be a disaster for the Empire to have the King of France as consort to the Queen of England."

  Vidal was not terribly interested in mortal affairs unl
ess they pertained directly to eliminating Elizabeth. He had mentioned Elizabeth's preference for the reformist rite because in Mary's reign it would be anathema. He had not realized until that moment it might not be enough to counter the complication caused by enmities on the continent. What Renard had said meant that Emperor Charles might order Renard to protect Elizabeth.

  Vidal now knew he would need more than reason to force Renard to continue insisting on Elizabeth's death when political disaster to the Empire might come of it. No matter. Vidal cared nothing about the Empire. Elizabeth must die. He froze Renard again, reversed his decision not to tamper with Renard's mind and impressed on it the substance of Otstargi's "visions": to ensure the stability of Mary's rule, Elizabeth must be dead.

  Vidal had to strain for power to work the spell and he feared it might not be strong enough; worse, the power he used could not be restored in the mortal world. He was sick and empty by the time he had inserted into Renard's mind an end to their conversation and Renard's dismissal of Otstargi. Also Vidal was dissatisfied with the fact that he had needed to use magic on Renard. Setting a spell on the man would make it possible for Oberon or Titania to find the traces of his interference in Renard's mind.

  Still, all in all, Vidal was well enough pleased with his morning's work. The likelihood of Oberon or Titania looking for traces of his influence on Renard was minimal, and anyhow what they would find was an image of Otstargi, a mortal sorcerer. Besides, there were many good reasons based in mortal politics for Queen Mary to be rid of her embarrassing sister. However disappointed Titania was over the loss of what she thought of as a golden age, she would have no reason to suspect Vidal had a hand in Elizabeth's death.

  Vidal was even more pleased with his evening's interview with Rich. He had expected the man to demand a way to retrieve his position as Chancellor, and possibly need to use a spell to remove that desire. Fortunately Rich did not want that at all. He had been seriously ill at the end of 1550 and was content now with a lesser role. What he wanted was to be assured through Otstargi's visions that Mary would not continue her present policy of toleration. He wished to hear that the queen would restore Catholicism and that the old faith would remain the official religion.

  Vidal was delighted. He did not need to use any more magic, which was at a low ebb in him, and he was able to direct another member of the Council to urge Mary to execute Elizabeth. He told Rich that Mary would restore the old faith but that if she died or was overthrown, Elizabeth would bring back the reformed religion. Rich would need to watch Elizabeth closely, expose her misdeeds, and be prepared to urge her execution.

  Rich's enthusiastic agreement was very satisfying. After using magic on Renard, Vidal had Gated back Underhill to restore his strength, but the Gating had depleted him further and the flow of power in Caer Mordwyn was very thin. Vidal ground his teeth and swore by the Great Evil that he would be rid of Elizabeth. If she came to the throne the Dark Court would be starved, as he was now, throughout her reign.

  After dealing with Rich, Vidal lingered in London long enough to witness the meeting of the sisters. He hoped that Elizabeth's coming accompanied by near two thousand armed horsemen, all decked out in Tudor colors of green and white, might elicit a preemptive strike from Mary to deal with the bold, threatening chit. However, Elizabeth dismissed more than half of her following when she heard that Mary was only accompanied by about eight hundred. "Clever," Vidal snarled when he heard. She must die.

  Worse, when Mary and Elizabeth finally met, Vidal's hopes were further dashed. In her joy, in her firm belief that her ascension to the throne was the work of God, Mary feared nothing and loved the whole world. She embraced Elizabeth with tearful tenderness. What was more, she held her sister by the hand in all the processions and ceremonies, keeping Elizabeth beside her and marking Elizabeth's preeminence as heir. The crowd was enchanted. All along the route of the procession, over and over the people roared "God save Queen Mary."

  One of Mary's first acts when she entered London was to free the political prisoners who had been held in the Tower by Northumberland. The duke of Norfolk, who had escaped beheading only because Henry VIII died before he could sign the order of execution and because neither Somerset nor Northumberland wanted to deal with the problem he raised, was scarcely surprised by another miracle. Mary, not only seemed to forgive him for sitting on the court that declared her mother's marriage incestuous, but favored his petition to Parliament to reverse his attainder. The petition was granted and he was restored as duke of Norfolk on August third.

  He was also named to the Council, which was not surprising since few of Mary's household had any experience of national or foreign affairs. Norfolk was very willing to serve the new Queen but was disturbed by the large, unwieldy Council. Mary had not dismissed or even weeded out Edward's Council; most had been retained and she had added to them the members of her own household who had served her so long and so faithfully.

  That was reasonable enough but instead of learning from the experienced members, Mary's faithful suspected those newly sworn to abhor Northumberland's plots and to have been Catholic in their hearts. Norfolk did not blame Mary's household members; he himself knew that most of Northumberland's men did not care a pin for the queen's policies or religion. Their main purpose was to retain their power and escape punishment, but many were experienced and efficient officials.

  The confusion and growing animosity between the two parties wore on Norfolk. He was no longer young and had lived a hard life. Moreover, Norfolk's own temper was not mild and his preeminence owing to his "martyrdom" aroused envy. Often, having done what he could in the Court, he retired to his own house to find a little peace and quiet. That was why, about the middle of September, when Lord Denno called at Norfolk House only intending to leave notice of his good wishes with one of the duke's servants, he was told to wait while the servant determined whether Norfolk wished to see him.

  Before Denoriel could decide on which chair in the entry hall to seat himself, the servant was back with an invitation to present his good wishes in person. Eyes a little widened with surprise, he followed the man up a set of stairs and into a chamber that was certainly a private parlor. Norfolk, seated in a cushioned chair near a hearth filled with handsome ferns rather than a fire at this season, spoke at once. First he told the servant to bring wine and cakes and then he addressed Denoriel directly.

  "You will pardon me for not rising to greet you, Lord Denno. I am always tired these days."

  Denoriel bowed and smiled. "Of course, Your Grace. You have been given a heavy burden by the queen, a wise act for there are few better able to help steer the ship of state. But I must say that, new burden or not, I am happy to see you looking so much better than the last time we met."

  The last time they had met Norfolk had still been a prisoner in the Tower under sentence of death. An odd expression, one Denoriel would have said was guilt—except that he had never seen much beside temper and pride on the face before—drew Norfolk's brows together and his lips down.

  "I should have written at once when I was released to thank you for your many kindnesses to me when I was a prisoner," he said. "I hope now I will be able to do something to show my gratitude."

  Denoriel was astonished. Apparently the years Norfolk had spent with the threat of the axe hanging over him had had an effect. Even as a prisoner, Norfolk had seemed to take any offer of service as his due, requiring no gratitude or thanks on his part. Now Denoriel realized that had only been the old man's pride, all he had to uphold him. Denoriel could not speak of that, however; he could do no more than bow and shake his head. Then his surprise increased because Norfolk gestured toward a chair opposite his own and bade him sit. And when the servant came in, he bade him pour wine for them both and give a goblet to Denoriel.

  "I thank Your Grace from the bottom of my heart," Denoriel said, "but I have as little interest in politics now as I ever had. I did not expect to speak to Your Grace, only to leave a message of good wishes."
He bowed his head in thanks as he took a sip of wine. Then he laughed, "And, of course, to remind Your Grace that I am still seeking your custom and that of any friend you wish to recommend—" Suddenly he stopped speaking and drew a sharp breath. "Your Grace, I have just bethought me that there might be something you can do, not necessarily for me but for the merchants of England in general—if you think it wise and proper, of course."

  "Yes?"

  Now Norfolk sounded as if he regretted admitting he owed Lord Denno a favor. Denoriel looked into his face, holding his eyes. "The queen is Catholic. That is her choice and her right and no one questions it, but there has been some feeling among the men of the Hanse that she is avoiding buying from them. I do not know if this is true, but they say she favors only Spanish merchants. You know, Your Grace, that it would be a mistake to offend the Hanse. I would guess that they will make up any insult they feel or profits they lose to the Spaniards by raising the price of what is essential and cannot be purchased from Catholic merchants—like salt."