And Less Than Kind

by Mercedes Lackey

  "I wonder if it would help if Renard had an accident," Denoriel said softly.

  Cecil shuddered. "Truthfully I do not think any 'accident' would not be put down to murder. Mary is convinced the Imperial envoys are in danger. I think the death of the Imperial ambassador by any means would convince the emperor that England was too dangerous for his only, precious son. And if Mary is deprived of Prince Philip—whose portrait she goes ten times a day to see . . . She will kill Elizabeth in revenge and to be sure that Elizabeth cannot inherit, since Mary will feel it was for Elizabeth's sake she was deprived of the possibility of having a child."

  Denoriel swallowed hard but did not need to reply because the door opened to show Perry with a tray. Both men stared silently at each other, until the tray was set on a table and wine poured into each of the two goblets. Cecil nodded at Perry and thanked him and the servant withdrew, shutting the door carefully behind him.

  "I see," Denoriel sighed as soon as he was sure Perry was gone. "I am glad to hear that Rochester is still Elizabeth's friend. That may help. But to tell the truth, I did not come to hear about Elizabeth but to discover, if you can tell me, what the Council is planning to do about Wyatt. I assume you know that most of the troops sent with Norfolk joined Wyatt instead of fighting him and that the sailors of the ships anchored at Gravesend did the same. There is now nothing to prevent Wyatt from marching straight into London."

  "I did not know about the sailors," Cecil said, shaking his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. "Not that it matters. The Council appointed Pembroke and Clinton to command the queen's forces and Lord William Howard to see to the defense of the city."

  "Clinton and Lord Howard know what they are doing," Denoriel said, "but why Pembroke? He is barely twenty years old."

  "Yes, but he is very hot to protect the queen, and will shame the others if they do not resist with all their strength." Cecil's lips twisted. "Who knows why they do anything. It is not as if one strong will drives them. They are too taken up with blaming each other for this disaster to even propose a proclamation to call the city to arms. Most blame Paget for supporting the Spanish marriage and many blame Gardiner for pressing forward with the change to the Catholic rite. There are all kinds of rumors about Lady Elizabeth also."

  Denoriel put down the glass he was holding and sat forward tensely. "Rumors? What rumors?"

  "That she is moving away from London to a great castle. That she is gathering troops to join Wyatt—"

  "That is utter nonsense!" Denoriel interrupted furiously.

  Cecil stared at him for a long moment, then said, "You have seen her. Yes. She would have no part in an open rebellion. I said to Paget that Lady Elizabeth was not such a fool, but he merely shrugged. Paget is too busy defending himself to take a chance of annoying Renard by speaking well of Elizabeth. And the treasurer insists there is proof of the gathering of troops and Elizabeth's household now eats in a week what usually lasted them a month."

  Denoriel laughed bitterly. "If Elizabeth hears of any increase in expenses, she will skin Parry alive." Then he sighed and added, "Elizabeth will be able to prove the extra cost is a lie. She insists that Parry keep very exact records of every penny spent, since the Seymour business when she discovered he was lax. She is loyal to her servants so she would not dismiss him, but she made note of his weaknesses and now reads over his accounts and initials them."

  "I fear she will need whatever proof of innocence she can get if Wyatt does not succeed."

  "I cannot believe he will," Denoriel said, wondering if he should try to gather the merchants and rouse them to defense.

  Cecil shook his head. "The Council all fear the worst and are running about like hysterical chickens. They are all urging Mary to flee London because they wish to run themselves but do not dare to leave while she stays." He shrugged. "I am packed and ready to go myself, and will follow if the queen leaves."

  Denoriel sighed again. "Let me know if you can if the queen decides to abandon the city."

  "I will do my best," Cecil replied as Denoriel rose to his feet, "and for Lady Elizabeth also. But there are hard times coming for her whatever the outcome of this rebellion."

  "She is as earnest as I in wishing it had never happened," Denoriel said, as Cecil accompanied him to the door.

  "I am certain of it."

  Lord Denno stepped through the opened door of William Cecil's house, but Charles Paget, after a slight pause with a hand against the door jamb to steady himself, went down the stairs to untie Miralys's rein and to mount. It was already growing dark. Days were short in February.

  Although he did not expect to be seen, Charles Paget rode a little way along Watling Street, then turned his chestnut mount into a quiet alley. After a little while Lord Denno on a black horse rode out of the alley and proceeded sedately to his warehouse near the river.

  Joseph was glad to see him. He had news from the east. Wyatt was moving toward London along the south shore of the Thames, nearing Deptford. Lord Denno gathered the men and told them he had news from a newly arrived fellow merchant. Over the narrow sea there is great surprise over the foolishness of the English. No Imperial army is moving anywhere. No ships are being gathered in any port. The Spanish are not planning on an invasion of England.

  The men seemed somewhat disappointed rather than relieved, but they all had a very high opinion of Lord Denno and readily agreed not to join any force that claimed to be against the Spaniards but would probably be used to raid the rich shops and houses of London.

  Later, privately, he said to Joseph, "Indeed, why should the Spaniards invade England? Once Queen Mary is married to Prince Philip they will have more influence than a conquering army would. The last thing Emperor Charles desires is any unrest in England."

  They left the warehouse with only its normal night guards and returned to Bucklersbury where he and Joseph ate dinner, after which Joseph went out to visit his betrothed and give her family the latest news. Denoriel read for a while, but soon after Joseph returned he went up to his bedchamber, slipped behind the cheval mirror that replaced the one Pasgen had shattered, and Gated to Ashridge.

  "Where have you been?" Elizabeth whispered, holding out her arms as he stepped into her chamber from Blanche's. "I am so frightened I can hardly breathe."

  "I am sorry, my love," Denoriel replied, his cheek against her hair. "Miralys took me Underhill after I went to Maidstone and Rochester for news of the rebellion. I—" he hesitated and then spoke the truth "—I was . . . tired."

  For a moment longer Elizabeth held him tight, then she shivered slightly, released him, and said, "Tell me the news."

  Rhoslyn was as exhausted as Denoriel. Usually it was safe for her to retreat Underhill to restore herself almost every night, but not since Gardiner brought word to the queen of Courtenay's confession. The chancellor had followed his news of the planned rebellion with an urgent request that he be allowed to arrest Lady Elizabeth and place her in the Tower for safekeeping. He did not mention eventual execution, but Rhoslyn read it in his mind and sent a sharp reminder of disaster to Mary.

  As she always did when urged to deal with Elizabeth, Mary hesitated, raising a hand to her temple. The she shook her head at Gardiner and said he could not expect her to make so momentous a decision without serious thought. Gardiner's mouth opened and his face flushed, but he bit back whatever angry words he had been about to say. Mary looked after him, a faint frown wrinkling her brow.

  When Gardiner was gone, Rhoslyn eased the thrust that made Mary touch her temple. More gently she renewed in Mary's mind all the fears she had set there about doing harm to Elizabeth. She knew the mental doubts were no longer enough, however. The real threat of rebellion was making the imagined fears pale. But before she could spare any mental effort to influence one of Mary's ladies, she was supported by Jane Dormer, who asked with wide eyes what Elizabeth had done to deserve arrest.

  "That will be determined when she is held safe," Mary said.

  Rhoslyn drew a shock
ed breath. Mary sounded as if she were breaking free of the instilled fears, but she did not give an order to recall Gardiner. She was looking at Susan Clarencieux, who was frowning and shaking her head.

  Without any pressure from Rhoslyn, Susan said slowly, "I do not like Lady Elizabeth. I think her insincere both in her profession of the Catholic faith and in her affection for you, Your Majesty. Nonetheless I must protest against Bishop Gardiner's advice."

  "Why?" Rhoslyn asked, playing devil's advocate to get Susan to state her reasons aloud.

  "To arrest Lady Elizabeth without proven cause would, I fear, precipitate rebellion," Susan said. "Remember how Elizabeth names herself 'mere English' as if your Spanish blood was some stain. If Lady Elizabeth is involved with the rebels, would they not cry aloud that in imprisoning her you are a tool of the Spanish, that you wish to sacrifice England to them? The whole country might rise against you."

  "Oh, they might indeed," Rhoslyn agreed, pressing the hatred of the Spanish as the cause of the rebellion on Mary's mind to the exclusion of Elizabeth.

  To Mary, who was certain that nothing better could happen to England than to be guided by Spanish orthodoxy into fervent Catholicism, fear and hatred of the Spanish was incomprehensible. Resistance to her plans to marry Philip thus seemed more and more reformist resistance to the true faith and became in Mary's mind inextricably connected to heresy, treachery, and now, rebellion.

  Nor could Rhoslyn relax her vigilance over the following weeks as the rebellion developed. Gardiner tried several times to get Mary to agree to arrest Elizabeth and Mary's growing anxiety was making the notion of Elizabeth in prison attractive. Only the fact that no one could accuse Elizabeth of anything—and the rebels' constant harping on the Spanish threat permitted Rhoslyn's instilled fears to balance Mary's dislike of her sister.

  The anti-Spanish rhetoric added to the fact that not once did anyone use her as a figurehead was Elizabeth's protection. Even when Carew escaped from those coming to seize him, when the duke of Norfolk's army defected to the rebels as did the seamen from the ships at Gravesend, when Wyatt started to move his army south, not once was there any mention of Elizabeth as a rival to Mary. Whenever any of the rebels spoke to a crowd or nailed up a proclamation, it was to warn against Spanish oppression and swear their intention was to protect the queen.

  Fortunately Renard did not add his conviction about the danger of leaving Elizabeth free to Gardiner's. He was so concerned with the immediate threat that Wyatt posed to himself and his fellow ambassadors, that a distant threat like Elizabeth shrank to insignificance. All Renard's attention and that of the Council during Wyatt's march was on whether Mary should flee London or stay.

  Renard's mind had been muddled by Vidal on the subject of Elizabeth, but he was clear enough on political events aside from trying to be rid of her. He knew that if Mary fled and the rebels took London, England would be in a state of civil war and no use to the Empire for many years to come if it were ever of use. Renard was frightened, but he was a brave man; he stayed in London and advised the shaken queen, who distrusted all her English advisors and her dithering Council, to do the same.

  He advised another useful tactic—that Mary try to convince the rebels she would listen to their objections to a union with Spain. Mary was transparently honest and protested that to listen to the rebels' objections was ridiculous. They were wrong in their fears. Spain was no threat to England.

  Rhoslyn and Mary's other ladies assured her that although they knew Spain was no threat, it would also be true that she would listen to what the rebels had to say rather than fight them. She did not need to follow their advice, but the time spent in conferences with the rebel leaders might well end the rebellion. The common soldiers would likely lose their enthusiasm as time passed and no Spanish threat appeared; they would slip away. Wyatt would have no army and the rebellion would be over.

  So Mary agreed to offer a truce to Wyatt, who had reached Blackheath. To show the queen was serious and respected her opponent, no mere herald, but two gentlemen of her household, Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallis, carried a carefully noncommittal message: If Wyatt and his friends were in arms only against strangers and in fear of the Spanish marriage, the queen would appoint persons to confer with him.

  In this case Renard's advice did not have the anticipated effect. The message seemed only to make Wyatt feel he was already victorious. He sent back with Hastings and Cornwallis an answer that aroused the normally gentle Mary to rage. He would rather be trusted than trust, Wyatt's message read, and for that trust the surety he desired was the dismissal of four councilors to be replaced by others whom he would name and custody of the Tower of London, and Her Grace the queen in the Tower.

  Within an hour of that response, Mary had sent a notice to the mayor, the aldermen, and other important merchants that she would speak to them in the Guildhall. She stood before them under a cloth of estate surrounded by her chancellor, her dithering Council, and her trembling but determined ladies. Small but indomitable, she spoke to them in her deep, resonant voice and told them of Wyatt's progress and answer to her offer.

  Standing with others of his Company, Denoriel found it within himself to admire Mary's dogged courage. In plain terms, the queen accused Wyatt of threatening a Spanish invasion as a false pretense to cover his opposition to her Catholicism. She reminded them that they knew the conditions of the marriage and that the marriage would give the Spanish no power in English government. And, she added, rather untruthfully, she was not a slave to her lust and her own pleasure; if the nobility, the commons, and the Parliament should deem the marriage not advisable, Mary said, "I will abstain from marriage while I live."

  The queen spoke simply and with great sincerity. Rhoslyn, standing with the other women, knew that Mary lied although, perhaps, Mary did not permit herself to know she was lying. What was important was that she had come in her own person and, so to speak, thrown herself on the mercy of her subjects—she asked if they would defend her against these rebels. "For if you do," she said, "I am minded to live and die with you."

  The hall erupted in cheering and when Mary had withdrawn to drink a cup of wine with the lord mayor and then take her barge to return to Westminster, the men in the hall, Denoriel included, went to arm themselves and to gather and arm their dependents.

  The next day the streets of London were full of armed men, oddly enough going calmly about their daily tasks. On Miralys, Denoriel was able to visit every part of the city and every part was making ready to defend their queen who sat stubbornly in the palace of Westminster, defying the advice of her fearful Council.

  In the afternoon, the guns of the Tower bellowed a warning. The guards there had seen flags moving on the Southwark shore; no long delay proved them to be Wyatt's flags. Joseph came back from the warehouse to tell Lord Denno that word along the Thames was that Lord William Howard had ordered the drawbridge cut loose so the bridge could not be used to enter the city and sent riders along the river to order that all bridges within fifteen miles be broken down. The next order was for the gates of the city to be shut.

  Denoriel went up to his bedchamber and Gated to Llachar Lle where he drew from its chest the silver armor he wore when he rode first in Koronos's Wild Hunt. A gesture darkened the silver to look like iron, another put a simple doublet and cloak over the armor. Thus garbed, he stepped back through the Gate and emerged from behind the cheval glass.

  When he came down from his bedchamber, Denoriel found Joseph also armored and with his sword belted on. He nodded approval and asked if there were jacks enough for the men they employed. Assured that all their employees would be properly armored, Denoriel told Joseph that he did not believe it necessary to join any other troop in the city unless they were asked for help.

  "Remain in the vicinity of the warehouse and watch the river. With the drawbridge down and no other nearby bridges available, Wyatt may try to get his men across in small boats."

  "That would be mad," Joseph
said and then snorted. "But this whole venture has been mad and here Wyatt is, besieging London. Very well, we will guard our section of the river and I will talk to our neighbors so they set watches on their wharfs also. And you, my lord?"

  "I think I will go make my bow to Lord Clinton, who knows me. His first wife was Harry FitzRoy's mother. She learned, perhaps from Norfolk, that I saw the boy often and she invited me to her home to ask about him. Clinton was then very young himself, hardly more than a boy. He knew that the marriage was made to advance him with Henry VIII and was interested in Harry. We met occasionally thereafter and he is aware of my connection with Elizabeth. That I am willing to fight for Mary can only help. Clinton, I believe, has charge of the horse. It is possible he can use my sword."

  However, when Denoriel was received by Clinton, he found he had come to the wrong man. Pembroke, young and full of confidence in his personal prowess, was the leader of the mounted defense of the city. Clinton looked at Denoriel's white hair and lined face.