‘Is he not the Queen’s astrologer, sir?’
‘Master Dee has been sometimes in that position, yes. But this past year he has overstepped his mark and done much to displease Her Majesty.’
Elizabeth said nothing but waited, her face cool.
‘So you do or do not know Master John Dee,’ Señor de Pero repeated, writing something on the paper in front of him. When Elizabeth still said nothing, he frowned and looked up at her. ‘I require an answer to my question, my lady.’
‘Forgive me, señor, I did not know that it was a question.’ Elizabeth lowered her gaze to the floor and pretended to muse. ‘Master John Dee . . . yes, I may have seen him once or twice about the court. Just as I have seen many others in my sister’s service about the court.’
‘But you have never met with him privately?’ he persisted.
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. ‘Must I repeat myself, sir? Has it been claimed that I have met this man privately?’
Miguel de Pero’s eyes narrowed on her face. He looked thoughtful. ‘What makes you ask that?’
‘Only that I know Master Dee to be under some kind of suspicion and now you are here, asking if I have met with him privately. For a maid to be alone with any man would be a sin, but for the Queen’s unmarried sister to meet privately with a man now accused of some conspiracy would be not only sinful but also treasonous.’ Her voice became icy. ‘I am no fool, sir. I can see a trap when it is set so clearly before me.’
Miguel de Pero’s mouth tightened with fury. He stared at her for a long while without speaking, his nostrils flared and his eyes as fierce as if another word would see the Lady Elizabeth dragged away to the stake. I guessed he had not often met with such defiance, especially from a young woman in fear for her life.
Eventually he stood and walked about the room for a few moments, his head bowed in thought, hands clasped behind his back. When he returned, he managed a strained smile as he sat down before the princess again.
‘Forgive me, my lady, I did not mean to imply that you are in the habit of meeting men privately. It is just that some papers have come to light with your name on them, in connection with this astrologer, and your sister is keen to learn what you know of this matter. Dee is indeed accused of treason, by way of calculating the Queen’s horoscope, a charge he does not deny but claims to have done in order to benefit the Queen.’
I recalled our secret meeting with John Dee at the Bull Inn in Woodstock. I myself had seen and read the Queen’s horoscope that night. My cheeks grew suddenly hot and I felt my palms dampen. Could they see the guilt in my face?
Elizabeth sounded perplexed. ‘I do not understand. Is it now a crime to cast a horoscope?’
‘When it could be used to discover secret information about Her Majesty’s health or to time an assault against her throne, yes.’ The Spaniard gave her a dry smile. ‘But you stray from the point. How did your name come to be on certain private papers belonging to the Queen’s astrologer?’
‘I do not know, señor, nor am I able to hazard a guess. Perhaps Master Dee intended to draw up my horoscope and read my secrets too, but I can assure you that I gave him no such instruction, nor asked any other person to do so on my behalf. Sir, let me make myself plain. These questions insult me and I do not wish to answer them any further.’ Elizabeth drew herself up in her seat, cold and straight-backed as though on a throne herself. With that instinctive and princely air of command, I could see why her sister continued to regard her as a threat. ‘Until you have some proof that I am more than just a name on a piece of paper to Master Dee, I bid you leave me and my ladies in peace.’
The Inquisitor stood up and glanced back at his men. Some message seemed to pass between then, then he bowed and began to pull on his gloves. It seemed indeed that he was leaving, but from de Pero’s sneer I knew his questions were far from over.
‘I fear it is not possible to take your word alone on this matter, my lady. We will return tomorrow with more questions, and perhaps overnight you could set your mind to thinking when you may have had any private contact with Master Dee or sent him any letter. Meanwhile, we shall take your ladies-in-waiting away with us and question them in a room set apart for the purpose.’
My heart juddered as I realized that he was looking directly at me, his cruel gaze on my face, enjoying his moment of power. A room set apart for the purpose. By that, he must mean a torture chamber where answers could be extracted without fear of interruption.
Seated just behind her mistress in the window alcove, Blanche Parry was looking horrified too.
‘I’m not going anywhere with those odd-looking Spaniards,’ she began loudly, but Elizabeth silenced her with a click of her fingers and Blanche lapsed into a kind of indignant muttering.
Elizabeth’s face was white with fear, but I could tell that she was angry too. More angry than I had ever seen her before. Threats against herself I had known her receive with impossible calm, but threats against her own servants seemed to have loosened her grip on that famous self-control.
‘Sir, this is unacceptable,’ she told him. ‘You have no authority to take my women away from me. If it is my name on Dee’s papers, what have my servants to do with this business?’
Miguel de Pero spread his hands wide. ‘Perhaps nothing, my lady. We have arrested John Dee and intend to ask him the same question as soon as the Queen’s councillors have finished their interrogation. But if you are innocent, you can have no qualms about allowing us to question your servants.’ His smile was terrifying. ‘In my experience, a servant will often talk where the accused refuses to do so. So I like to begin with the servants and . . . erm . . . work my way upwards.’
‘And how am I supposed to live without my women?’ Elizabeth demanded furiously, and I could see how desperately she was searching for reasons why he should not take us. ‘I am a princess at a royal court. Am I now expected to fetch my own meals and dress myself as best I can without my ladies-in-waiting?’
‘Perhaps one of the Queen’s ladies would consent to wait on you until your own servants have been restored to you?’
The princess interrupted him, her eyes flashing. ‘Sir, I refuse to countenance such an outrage. My royal sister awaits the birth of her child and cannot spare her gentlewomen to wait on me. If you will not see sense, señor, then I pray you send for the King. I shall speak to His Majesty myself on this matter, since my sister is indisposed.’
Having stood silently by all this time, betraying nothing of his feelings, Alejandro suddenly stepped forward. He bowed, then spoke aside in Spanish with the Inquisitors, his voice low and seemingly unemotional.
Miguel de Pero nodded, though once again he looked at me with hostile eyes. ‘Gracias, Alejandro.’ He turned to the princess. ‘On this young man’s advice, I shall leave your maidservant to see to your needs, and take Mistress Parry for questioning first. She will be returned to you once we are satisfied with her answers.’
Blanche struggled as the two men in black robes took hold of her arms and began to drag her from the room. ‘No, I shall not go with you! I must take care of the Lady Elizabeth.’
Ashen-faced, Elizabeth stared first at me, and then at Alejandro. ‘Will you do nothing to help my servant, sir?’
‘Forgive me, my lady, but this is for the best,’ Alejandro said tersely, stepping between the Lady Elizabeth and the Inquisition as though to protect her. ‘They will not leave empty-handed, and at least this way you can have Meg to serve you until Mistress Parry’s return.’
I had no skill for reading thoughts, but I could see that he was afraid for me – not for himself, nor the princess, nor even the unfortunate Blanche. It was my neck that was most at risk here, or so Alejandro seemed to believe. That was why he had protected me and thrown Mistress Parry to the wolves instead. Because he already knew that Miguel de Pero considered me an enemy.
His face averted from me, Alejandro strode towards the door as if he intended to follow the priests and Mistress Parry, but Señor de
Pero stopped him in the doorway.
‘We shall not require your services any further today, Alejandro.’ The Inquisitor’s voice was cool. ‘You have been most helpful and I thank you for it. But we can question this woman ourselves. You had best tend your old master before he falls off his seat; Father Vasco appears to have fallen asleep.’
With that, the dark-robed priest bowed to the princess and strolled in an unhurried fashion after his men.
We listened in horrified silence as Blanche’s shrieks and sobs echoed along the palace stairs and corridors, then abruptly stopped as a door slammed.
I closed my eyes briefly, trying to understand what had just happened. I had watched them drag her away to be questioned – perhaps even hurt and badly frightened – and had done nothing, had used no magick art to confuse their minds or play one man against another. Although Blanche and I had never been friends, she served Elizabeth as I did and for that she deserved my loyalty. Yet like a coward, I had said nothing and thought only of my own safety. Even now I could feel myself trembling like a mouse in a cornfield, hardly daring to breathe in case the Inquisition changed their minds and came back for me too.
I wondered if we would ever again see Blanche alive.
THREE
The Conjuror’s Cell
Elizabeth shuddered and covered her face in her hands. ‘Poor foolish Blanche! What will they do to her?’
With a cautious glance at Father Vasco, still asleep on the settle behind us, Alejandro shook his head. ‘Whatever powers the Inquisition may have been given here, my lady, you are still the Queen’s sister. They would not dare harm one of your women.’
I looked at Alejandro. His reassurance was well-meant, but I knew his words to be empty. The Inquisition were cruel and barbaric in their methods; they were capable of any evil in pursuit of their prey, even torturing innocent women and children to make the men they were shielding came forward. Besides, if they would not harm Elizabeth or her servants, why had he looked at me with such fear?
Rising to her feet, Elizabeth clutched at her full skirts and stumbled towards her bedchamber. ‘I am unwell. I must . . . lie down.’
Alejandro hurried to her side, muttering something in Spanish. Elizabeth managed an unsteady laugh and replied in the same language, then gripped his shoulder to stay on her feet.
He supported her into her chamber while I readied her bed, plumping the bolsters for her head and tidying the covers where she had thrown them aside that morning on waking.
Discreetly, Alejandro bowed and left the chamber, though the look he shot me was grim.
I undressed the princess as quickly as I could. My fingers fumbled with the difficult fastenings of her gown. Elizabeth looked sicker every minute, her face becoming deathly white, her body trembling as she waited for me to finish. It was almost as though she had fallen under a spell, the fit had come upon her so rapidly. It had to be her old illness, the one she had suffered so often at Woodstock and which had kept her confined to her bed for weeks on end. Blanche had claimed there was no cure for it but bed rest, though the discomfort could be lessened with herbal remedies and the application of cool scented cloths to the forehead, wrists and ankles.
No doubt the shock of seeing Blanche dragged away by the Inquisition had been enough to bring on another bout of her illness . . .
I tried to remove Elizabeth’s rings, but her fingers had swollen so much it was impossible. I draped a robe about her shoulders, then guided her into bed.
‘My lady, let me call for one of the Queen’s doctors,’ I murmured, and drew the covers up to her chin.
Elizabeth lay there shivering, her eyes closed. She shook her head. ‘My sister needs their assistance more than I,’ she whispered. ‘What if her baby comes and they are not on hand to help her?’
‘It will not take long. The birthing room is only a few minutes away. You are not well and should be examined by a doctor.’
She turned her head aside, choking, and I was just in time with a bowl to catch her vomit. I found a cloth and wiped her face clean afterwards, smoothing back her red hair on the pillows.
Elizabeth became more peaceful after that, no longer clutching at the covers with her long swollen fingers, though her body still trembled as though with an ague. I could find no fever in her, but I was not skilled in the treatment of the sick and did not know what signs I should be looking for.
‘Try to sleep, my lady,’ I whispered, though I sensed she was already too far gone to hear me. ‘I will find a woman to sit with you while I fetch a physician to examine you.’
Alejandro had waited for me to finish attending the princess. He was leaning by the window, one fist clenched against the stone, staring down at the broad rolling River Thames below. I could see from the way he held himself that something was eating away at him inside, and when he turned to me, his face spoke of the same frustration.
‘It is my fault,’ he muttered. ‘I should have done more to prevent this calamity. I knew they were coming to question the princess this morning, yet I did nothing. I thought that by agreeing to accompany Father Vasco, I could somehow protect you. But in the end . . .’
‘You did protect me. They took Blanche instead of me.’
‘Si.’ He closed his eyes briefly, as though on a wave of pain. ‘And God knows what Mistress Parry will suffer at their hands.’
‘You did your best, Alejandro.’
‘No!’ Alejandro slammed his fist down onto his sword hilt. His fierce eyes flashed open, glaring at me. ‘I did my duty to my master King Philip and to Spain, yes, but what of my duty to you? You are my betrothed. What of my oath to protect the Lady Elizabeth? I failed both of you, and because of this failure, Mistress Parry has been taken by the Inquisition, and the Lady Elizabeth has fallen sick.’
‘Her ladyship needs rest, that is all.’
‘You know this for sure? You have seen this in your . . . your scrying bowl?’
I heard the anger and self-recrimination in his voice and tried not to get angry myself. ‘No,’ I said curtly. ‘But her illness is a nervous disposition, and comes and goes with her moods. It is not likely to be mortal.’
There was an odd snorting noise behind us, then a muffled crash. I turned. Father Vasco was lying on the floor beside the settle, his priestly cap tumbled off and his robes awry.
Alejandro drew a deep breath, then went to help the old priest to his feet. He spoke to him in Spanish, his voice soothing and conciliatory. But the irascible old man brushed him aside.
‘Donde esta la princesa?’ he demanded hoarsely, peering about the empty apartment, then his watery eyes lighted on me and narrowed. An old memory seemed to click into place as the priest stared at me. His voice was slurred, yet still coherent enough to condemn me thrice over. ‘Wait,’ he continued in stilted English, ‘I remember you. You are the little witch from Woodstock.’
‘No, Father,’ Alejandro said hurriedly, ‘your illness has made you forget. The accusation of witchcraft was false, do you remember? This girl is innocent.’
Alejandro tried to lead him back to the door, but it was too late. The priest had my guilt locked into his head now.
‘No, I remember truly. This one is a witch.’ Father Vasco pointed a bony finger in my direction, his large emerald ring gleaming in the sunlight. ‘We burn witches in Spain.’
‘We burn priests in England,’ I countered, thinking of all the Protestants condemned to a hellish death since the arrival of the Spanish Inquisition.
But I was afraid. For the first time since a kitchen maid had accused me at Woodstock Palace, I knew how it felt to be exposed as a witch – only this time my accuser was no young girl, but an elderly priest revered by the Order of Santiago.
I lifted my own finger and pointed back at the old Catholic priest.
‘Forget,’ I commanded him, wiping the slate of the old priest’s mind. My voice shook, for I knew how vital it was to get this spell right. His word alone could see me brought before the Inquisition as a sus
pected witch. ‘Let no memory bind, let the past be blind, drive thought from your mind . . . and leave us!’
The priest had a weak mind, easily brought under enchantment. Caught up in my improvised spell, Father Vasco’s face emptied of all his cruelty and hatred. His hand dropped to his side. The old man turned and weaved unsteadily towards the door, leaving the princess’s apartments without another word or a backward glance.
‘You’d better go with him,’ I told Alejandro, ‘in case Father Vasco tumbles down the stairs without your guiding hand.’
But Alejandro did not move. He was looking at me. ‘Why did you do that?’
‘What did you expect me to do? Your master would have gone straight to the Inquisition. A witch in the princess’s service? What more reason would they need to confine the Lady Elizabeth to the Tower again, and drag me out to the gallows? I did what needed to be done, that is all.’
‘You had no “need” to use magick against Father Vasco. He is an old man, his memory is not what it was. You were never in any danger. I would only have had to explain to the Inquisition that the whole thing was a misunderstanding, and that would have been an end to the matter.’
I raised my eyebrows at the simplicity of his thinking. ‘And the Spanish would have believed you without question?’
‘You forget that I am Spanish too. Just because we are foreigners does not make us stupid.’
Too late, I saw how angry he was. He was still training to be a priest, after all, and to see me using magick on his own master must have hurt him deeply.
‘Forgive me,’ I stammered, catching at his arm as he turned to follow Father Vasco. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I was only trying to protect the princess.’
‘You were trying to protect yourself, Meg,’ he corrected me, pulling away from my hand. He bowed as he left, but did not meet my eyes. ‘As you said, I must make sure Father Vasco reaches his room without accident, just as you had better tend your mistress in her sickness.’
I stared after him, my heart burning with grief.
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