And Less Than Kind

by Mercedes Lackey

  But Vidal's voice had drifted away. His brows were knitted in thought, not rage. Aurilia held her tongue. Then Vidal spoke again, slowly. "London is full of newborn babes. I will give that lazy fool one more chance. He is one of Mary's physicians and can come to her without needing elaborate arrangements. Why should not a babe seem to be born from the queen's body?"

  "What?" Aurilia said. "How can that be done?"

  Vidal laughed. "Easily enough. You want to keep your little pet who brews you potions? Then help him deliver a babe from Mary."

  Aurilia's mouth opened, but nothing came out for a moment. Then she said,"The queen is attended by many people. Do you think anyone will believe Albertus if he says he delivered the queen alone and no one else in the room noticed. Not to mention how he would bring the child in or that it would not look like one just taken from between a woman's legs."

  "You and your Albertus will arrange all that." Vidal waved a negligent hand. "You have done nothing but suck in power and preen since Mary came to the throne. It is time to use that power to ensure our future."

  "The future is ensured," Aurilia snapped. "Mary is growing madder and madder in her desire to make Logres Catholic."

  "Stupid grimalkin," Vidal said silkily, "you think like a cat, intent on this moment and your own body and nothing else. Mary is mortal and frail. This swelling of her body, like as not it is a disease. She will not live long. She needs an heir or Elizabeth will come to the throne and we will starve for power."

  Aurilia's fair skin flushed and blue light played along her fingers at the insult. Vidal sneered and laughed. She did not loose the bolt of power that had formed although retaining it seemed to burn her insides; it was clear enough to her that Vidal was shielded and confident that she could not hurt him.

  Part of her raged worse and part cringed in recognition of his strength. She could leave him, she thought, but atop that came second thoughts, that she would need to make a domain and care for it or find another who would provide for her. And no one else was so strong. No one. He had gained more than any other from the flow of power to the Dark Court.

  "So what do you want me to do?" She tried to keep her fury and resentment out of her tone.

  Vidal nodded, smiling again with satisfaction. "First bid your Albertus catch a woman about to bear and hold her. When she begins her labor, you can gather a few of Mary's women and some of the Council. All you need do then is to bend the minds of those attending the queen to believe they witnessed her bearing the child and fix in the minds of those waiting word of her bedding that a healthy child was born."

  "And how will Albertus bring the newborn into the palace?"

  "In the bag in which he carries his instruments and medicines," Vidal said sweetly. "He always carries that, I am sure, and no guard would bother to look into it."

  "And what will you be doing while Albertus and I perform this miracle?"

  The sly taunting disappeared from Vidal's expression. He looked wary and determined. "I will be convincing the Evil that It must bind Itself into the newborn and wait some time to come to full power. It will not be easy." He stood up, contemptuous now, and waved a dismissive hand at her. "Go fetch your pet. He must have arrived already. I have serious work to do. It is time that I went to speak to that Evil and to Dakari."

  On the words, Vidal disappeared. Aurilia shrieked a curse into the empty room, started forward to break or besmirch something and came up hard against a force field that shielded every part of the chamber except a narrow path to and from the door. She stood a moment, trembling and gasping for breath, thinking of ways to revenge herself.

  Her first thought was of foiling his plans for the false birth. But enraged as she was, she realized that would be stupid. She would benefit more than Vidal if Mary bore an Evil child. When power was thin, Vidal always got the greatest share. Only when power was plentiful did she get filled to repletion. So her frustration grew. She would do it, but someone would suffer for it.

  Because the imp Vidal sent could not actually drag Albertus Underhill, he had to use the token Aurilia had given him to operate the Gate in Otstargi's house. Thus Albertus arrived in Aurilia's apartment rather than Vidal's. She was not there so he knew it was truly Vidal who had sent for him. He clutched his medical bag to his chest and tried to breathe.

  Albertus had not believed he could be more afraid, but when Aurilia told him what Vidal had demanded she and he do to repair Mary's barrenness, he very nearly fainted. Despite his terror he whimpered, "Impossible. Impossible. There are doctors and midwives and all sorts of nurses and attendants. How are they to be convinced they saw the queen delivered?"

  "I will attend to that," Aurilia said.

  It occurred to her as she spoke the words that likely Albertus was more right than she. It would be impossible to gather up all those who would attend the birth, impossible to convince everyone that the queen had actually given birth to the baby. But then she realized that was all to the good. Aurilia's eyes brightened as she thought of the charges and countercharges, of the rumors that the child was not the true heir. Like as not there would be more rebellion, battles in which men would suffer and die. More rich fare for the Dark Court.

  "My lady, my lady, there are so many who should be present. How will you reach them all? How can I bring in a child? And the guards on the queen's rooms . . ."

  At which point Aurilia said, "Then you would rather go and explain why this is impossible to Prince Vidal?"

  All Albertus's original terror returned. The thought of facing Vidal with a refusal to accomplish what he ordered jolted Albertus's brain out of its paralysis. "Very well," he said, "but I cannot be in two places at once. Either I can take you to those who are to attend the queen so you can bespell them, or I can carry the child into the palace. Which do you want me to do?"

  Aurilia grimaced. "You will have to gather together those who are to be bespelled. You know who they are."

  "My lady," Albertus went down on his knees. "I am the least of the queen's physicians. The others will not listen to me if I bid them come with me. And if the woman has not come to term, someone must cut the child out of her."

  Aurilia grimaced again, and reminded herself that it did not really matter if some of the queen's attendants or high Court officials were not included in the mind bending. They would accuse those who had been bespelled of complicity in a deception. Doubt would be cast on the legitimacy of the child, which would provide meat for conflict for many years.

  "Very well. You are stupid beyond belief. I will tell you in the simplest words I can find what you must do. On the last day of the mortal month of April, you will take the Sidhe you will meet here to the palace. He will assume the appearance of one of the queen's servants and you will tell him who to summon and where to take them. They will be bespelled to wait where he sets them until I come."

  "Otstargi's house is some way from the palace. Should I have ready a chair to carry you from Otstargi's house to the palace? My lady, what will I tell the chairmen? How will I bring you in past the guards?"

  Aurilia was growing more and more annoyed with Albertus. He should know without being told that she could bespell the guards and the chairmen. He was only trying to find more sources for doubt and alarm. Maybe he was not really devoted to her, not worth more than the pungent flow of power that could be wrung from his death.

  "No chair. No guards," she snarled. "This is too important for your silly doubts." And she told him what Vidal was planning to do with the baby Mary would seem to bear.

  Albertus stared with starting eyes. Even more annoyed with the horror she saw in his face—was he not hers? Should not his first joy be what pleased her? And to loose a horror on England did please her. With a gesture Aurilia cast a little spell at Albertus, who gasped with a wrenching pain in his gut and began to weep.

  The ooze of pain and fear that came from him soothed her and cleared her mind. She knew she needed a Gate direct into the palace and she muttered a curse on Pasgen for having
disappeared. A moment later her scowl smoothed away. There was another who could build Gates, a Sidhe whose power, aside from bare life, blossomed only from death. He had come not long since from the Bright Court . . . ah. Cretchar.

  "There is a Sidhe who can build Gates," she said to Albertus, who tried to straighten up lest she do worse to him. Aurilia made a short impatient gesture and he succeeded. "You will leave a token in the room to which you bring the queen's attendants. I will give Cretchar someone to kill and he will build a Gate for me."

  Aurilia then gave orders on the details of how to get the baby to Mary and how to collect all the necessary people. Albertus knew many were ridiculous but buried that knowledge under thoughts that she had given him a real hope the plan might work. He was finally released and he left with several amulets for emergencies, all of which looked innocently like brass keys on a chain.

  He kept her plan in the forefront of his mind until he passed the Gate and was free of Underhill. Then he stood in Otstargi's bedchamber and ground his teeth in helpless hate and rage. Horror grew in him. Vidal intended to set a Devil on the throne. A real Devil, not some churchman's fancy.

  Albertus would never have thought of himself a patriot or said that he loved England, but he knew he hated Vidal. And when he turned away from the Gate to go to his own room, his muscles shrieked in protest . . . and he hated Aurilia too. She hurt him not to punish him but for her own pleasure. But what could he do?

  He sat in glum thought in his own room, planning, because he dared not disobey, how to abduct a woman heavy with child. It must be a woman whom no one would miss, was his first thought. And almost as soon as that thought became clear, a slow smile twisted his lips. He need only pick a whore out of the gutter, too poor even to pay to rid herself of the babe. She would be unlikely to survive the bearing, and the child would be half dead already. Softly, Albertus began to chuckle.

  If the babe did not live, perhaps the Devil would die with it. In any case It would not rule England.

  Invigorated by his determination to foil Vidal's plans, Albertus picked up the amulet that disguised him as John Smith. Since the disappearance of Francis Howard, no one would know that face. Possibly no one would recognize him as Albertus, the queen's physician, in the worst slums in London, but he did not want to take even that small chance. Nor did he want to take the chance that the groom in the stable where he hired a horse would connect him with the doctor who lived in Otstargi's house.

  He was successful at his third destination. The first two places had no pregnant women. In the third street, which housed three low taverns, he found a woman with a protruding belly that looked huge in comparison with her starved body; she was quite literally lying in a gutter. Albertus dismounted, cast a quick glance around the street and saw only a staggering drunk. He threw his cloak over the filthy form and hoisted her over the saddle.

  There was no need to keep anything he did secret from the near-mindless servant. If Vidal looked into the poor creature's mind he would see Albertus following the plan Aurilia had devised. Thus, he instructed the servant to carry the woman up and lay her on the floor of the guest room. There he cut away her filthy, tattered clothing and told the servant to burn it, then bring food. He washed her, noticing with satisfaction that the stretched skin of her belly showed movement. The child inside her lived.

  Aurilia had set the last day of April for the false delivery. Albertus was sure the babe would not be born before then. On the thirtieth he would cut out the child. The woman would die, but that did not matter.

  He spent a few hours in the morning making sure the woman would neither die nor waken and then set out for the palace. When he came to make his bow to the queen, to his surprise he saw among her women Rosamund Scot, who had been on leave since the queen's wedding. He knew Mistress Rosamund was actually Sidhe and assumed that Vidal or Aurilia had sent her to spy on him.

  At first he suffered a moment of panic, but he did not believe that Rhoslyn could read his mind as Vidal did, and outwardly he was doing exactly what he had been ordered to do. Having made his bow to the queen, been recognized and graciously dismissed, he went to speak to the cluster of physicians and midwives, who were as usual discussing whether there were any signs yet of the queen being brought to bed.

  Mostly heads were shaken; Albertus noticed that the chief midwife looked very unhappy and one of the physicians cleared his throat uneasily. Having looked over his shoulder to be sure they were well away from the royal party, he muttered softly that the queen's belly was less raised than it had been.

  "Is that not common near term?" Albertus put in quickly. He could not afford to have substance added to the uneasy rumor that Mary looked less and less pregnant and the midwives in particular were having doubts about the likelihood of a baby being born. "It has been my experience that when the child drops before birthing the belly looks flatter."

  Two of the doctors agreed with him, citing this and that case with which they were familiar. Albertus bowed acknowledgement, turning as he did so, which permitted him to exclaim as if he had just seen Rhoslyn.

  "If you will excuse me, gentlemen and ladies. I have just seen Mistress Rosamund among the queen's ladies and I wish to greet her. She has been most helpful to me in calming the queen in the weeks before Philip's arrival."

  He did not wait to respond to any of the questions about Rhoslyn, everyone being most eager to meet a lady who could calm the queen, but sidled away. Coming up behind her, he touched her gently on the shoulder.

  "Mistress Rosamund," he murmured. "Let me welcome you back to Court. I am very glad to see you, and I would be grateful if you could spare me a few moments of your time."

  Rhoslyn was startled. She knew Albertus, of course, for he had often given her calming potions for the queen and she had already realized that Mary was no longer in her fool's paradise. Whether she knew but would not acknowledge what was whispered among the women—that she was not pregnant—or whether she was upset because she could not convince her husband to remain in England more than a few weeks longer, Rhoslyn was not sure. But if Albertus had something of importance to tell her, she needed to hear it.

  With a soft murmur of excuse, Rhoslyn closed her book, laid it on her stool, and slipped out of the half-circle of women. Albertus had already left the room. She followed him out and was not surprised to have him touch her arm just a few steps from the door. She walked with him until he opened the door of a small, empty chamber and stepped inside.

  "If Lady Aurilia sent you, I am very grateful," he said. "I realized after I left her that I will need help."

  He had already put one hand up to his throat, the fingers under the gold chain. It tightened at the use of Aurilia's name but not enough to choke him . . . yet.

  "I will be glad to help," Rhoslyn said, "but the lady was in a hurry for me to take up my duties with the queen and did not tell me exactly what you plan to do."

  "Give Mary the child she desires, of course," Albertus said.

  For a moment Rhoslyn simply stared at him, utterly blank. "But—" she began. Stared again and when he grinned from ear to ear, said "But—" again without any idea of how to go on.

  "But there is no baby in her belly?" Albertus murmured in her ear. "What matter? There are babes in plenty born every day in London."

  Rhoslyn simply gaped, wide eyed, and Albertus explained the plan to her, except about the Evil, chortling now and again with good humor. He was so taken up with his cleverness and with relief that he would have help in dealing with Mary's attendants and the palace guards, he did not notice how Rhoslyn paled and shuddered.

  Later she drew back so he no longer touched her and asked, "When?"

  He shrugged. "On the last day of April. That is the date Aurilia set, and I dare not argue with Aurilia."

  "You will kill the woman?" Rhoslyn breathed.

  Albertus shrugged. "Yes, I must. We do not need any tales of missing newborns on the day the heir to the throne is born."

  "I see," Rh
oslyn said calmly, trying to swallow the sickness rising in her. "Be sure to tell me what I must do and when. Tell me in good time and clearly. I do not want to make any mistake."

  Chapter 35

  When Elizabeth arrived at Hampton Court on April twenty-fourth there was still eager expectation of an heir, although that covered some doubts disguised as a tense anxiety about the coming lying in. Elizabeth's heart fell somewhat when she was taken secretly to a back entrance to the palace, but her spirits rose again when she was led to the prince of Wales's lodging. The rooms had been built for Edward when he was heir. Elizabeth sighed as she looked about, recalling those happy days when she and Edward and poor Jane Grey had all been schooled together under Catherine Parr's kindly eye. She was the only one still alive.

  The thought sent a nasty chill down her spine, and though she pushed away immediate fear, she found herself grieving again for those she had loved and lost.

  The mood did not last long. On April twenty-fifth she was given something else to think about. She received a curt message from Mary bidding her wear her very best clothes on the next day because Philip would visit her. Elizabeth stared at the messenger, none other than Mary's favorite lady and long-time confidant, Susan Clarencieux; she curtsied deeply.