by Mez Blume
I felt too sick, both in my stomach and in my heart, to fight. My eyes were still adjusting to the little bit of candlelight. Even if I could escape the big man who had me by the arm, I wouldn't get far, blind and lost as I was. So I scuttled along as he dragged me to keep up with Nurse Joan’s clopping gait.
After we’d walked up more stairs and down more corridors than I could keep up with, Nurse Joan came to a halt in front of a set of carved double doors. “I have had it from the steward that there is to be a hanging today.” I wasn’t sure whether she spoke to me or my guard. “The Baron, I am certain, will want to be rid of all you vermin in one go.” And with that she straightened up and knocked on the door.
A steward with the royal crest embroidered on his chest opened it. Only then did I understand that we were in the Royal Chambers.
Nurse Joan made a curt curtsey. “I wish to speak to the Baron immediately. ’Tis a matter of grave importance … of treason.” She looked just like an old vulture with her eyes bulging out.
The steward looked skeptically at the big man gripping my shoulder and then down at me. “I’m afraid the Baron and His Majesty the King rode out early this morning and will not return until following the Baron’s wedding.”
“What? Out riding now? On the morning of his wedding?” Nurse Joan sounded bitterly disappointed.
The steward took a tiny step away from the raging woman before explaining, “They have undertaken a gentleman’s hunt in hopes of catching the white stag and incurring good fortune on the Baron’s marriage.”
As the steward’s words sunk in, a huge wave of relief filled me with miraculous energy. “You mean Sophia’s not … the wedding hasn’t … Where is Sophia now?”
“Silence!” Nurse Joan hissed. “Mistress Sophia is being dressed for her wedding, but that is no concern of yours.”
I smiled right back at Nurse Joan. She could shout at me all she liked. All that mattered was that it wasn’t too late! So much relief poured over me, like warm water thawing ice. I could have laughed or cried, or both.
The corners of Nurse Joan’s tight mouth turned down in serious displeasure. I thought she might punch the steward.
He must’ve thought he was in danger too, because he very quickly piped up, “The Baron cannot receive you; however, Her Majesty the Queen is taking audience this morning until such time as she must depart to escort her niece to her wedding. She will see you about this urgent matter.”
Nurse Joan’s puckered mouth turned upward again as the steward pushed open the double doors and led us into a very large, square room with tall, decorated ceilings and a red carpet running down the middle of the floor to a dais. On the dais were two thrones, and in the smaller one sat the Queen in a gold and burgundy brocade gown, dripping in pearls. Her red hair was piled high like a hive on top of her head. But what I noticed most was her face — powdered and unsmiling though it was, she had a kindly, motherly face with clever eyes that reminded me a little of Sophia. That gave me hope.
The steward led us right down to the carpet just in front of the dais, then stopped and bowed low. The man holding my arm copied, forcing me to bend over at the same time.
“What is this, Walter?” the Queen asked in her Danish accent.
“Your Majesty, this woman wishes to bring an urgent matter of treason before you.”
“Oh? And is this delicate creature the traitor?” Her ruby lips pressed together as she looked at me, as if she were trying not to smile. I could see she thought Nurse Joan’s charge of treason against me, a skinny little girl, was a joke.
“Your Majesty,” — Nurse Joan croaked. She sounded much less confident before the grandeur of the Queen and her watching courtiers — “I do suspect … nay, know beyond a doubt that this girl has some evil power and has applied it in the murder of my Master and the affliction of my Mistress.”
The Queen was unmoved except for one raised eyebrow. “Is that so? You suppose this little kitchen maid to be a witch? On what grounds, madam?”
“Why, your Highness …” Nurse Joan looked around as if hoping for someone to volunteer an answer. “She … she speaks and behaves so strangely. And her hair is …” she checked herself just in time.
“What about her hair?” The Queen sounded indignant.
“I was going to say short. Her hair is too short, Majesty.”
“Of course.” The Queen was obviously not convinced. “Carry on.”
“It was only after she mysteriously arrived at this house that all the ill fell upon it. And what’s more, yesterday she disappeared during her duties and I caught her just last night sneaking about the household corridors. No doubt she was putting hexes on the family.”
I watched the Queen’s face throughout Nurse Joan’s absurd accusations. Her expression never changed; she didn’t appear to believe any of it. But I couldn’t be sure. As superstitious as King James was, his wife might be of a similar paranoid way of thinking. And if she was, I might easily wind up in the jail cell beside Digby and Bessy within minutes. Or worse …
When Nurse Joan finished, the Queen scrutinised me from her throne, then asked, “What have you to say for yourself against these accusations, little wench? Do you deny them?”
I decided right then to risk everything. I had no choice; there were no other tricks up my sleeve. I cleared my throat and spoke up as confidently as I imagined Sophia would do in my place. “Your Majesty, before the Baron sent me to the kitchens, I was your niece Sophia’s personal companion and closest friend. I was at the banquet the night the Earl was murdered, and I know how it happened. It wasn’t Frederick. It was the Baron himself.”
The Queen’s expression shifted for the first time at that. Her mouth opened in a gasp, but I pushed on. “The reason I was sneaking around the house was to gather the evidence to prove the truth to the King before it’s too late and innocent people die … not to mention Sophia’s life will be ruined because she’ll be married to the man who murdered her guardian and her brother.” I stopped, expecting the Queen to say something, but she only looked at me with interest, waiting to hear more. “Your Majesty, please. If you could just speak to the King and ask him to stop the wedding and the executions until he has seen this evidence …”
“What you tell me is … dare I say … what I’ve suspected. My nephew Frederick could not be the murderer. He had nothing to gain from it, while the Baron had many reasons to remove his brother and his heir.”
I couldn’t believe it. This was better than I could’ve hoped for! “So you will speak to the King?”
The sad look on the Queen’s face deflated my happiness. “I have no influence over my husband in this matter,” she said bitterly. “You must understand, I have already tried to defend Frederick’s innocence and begged the King to look more carefully into the matter. But Frederick is my sister’s son, which the King believes has made me a blind judge, unable to accept the boy’s true nature.”
“But it’s the King who’s a blind judge to the Baron’s true nature!” I blurted. There was a gasp from every servant and courtier in the room, but I couldn’t care less. He wasn’t my king anyhow. I pressed forward. “There’s so much evidence of the truth, Your Majesty. If the King would only listen …”
“You have my sympathy, my dear. But the Baron speaks out with a strong voice against witchcraft and treason, the two subjects my husband finds most odious. The King believes he has found a close ally in the Baron. But I wonder, what manner of evidence is this of which you speak?”
I threw back my cloak and slung my backpack around in what felt like one very dramatic movement. “Irrefutable evidence,” I answered. The Queen listened carefully while I recounted every step of my journey to discovering Master Van Hoebeek as the true murderer, and then his true identity as the Baron in disguise. And as I explained, I produced my evidence, one piece at a time. “This is the disguise he wore when he stood before the King and accused Frederick, the very night before Master Van Hoebeek supposedly rushed off to Holland an
d the Baron just happened to turn up the next day.”
The Queen’s face grew more and more horrified, just as I’d hoped. It egged me on to the next piece of evidence. “I’m not positive, but I think this bottle is the very poison the Baron dropped into the Earl’s goblet that night, and I have it on good grounds that he’s been poisoning the Countess as well, keeping her alive just long enough so that her death doesn’t look too suspicious.”
The Queen looked aghast. “Can this be true?”
“Ask Nurse Joan for the medicinal draught she’s been giving the Countess under the Baron’s orders. I’m sure you’ll find it’s poison.”
She turned sharply towards Nurse Joan with raised eyebrows. “Nurse Joan, the draught, if you please. I will have my own apothecaries inspect it.”
Nurse Joan had gone ghostly white, her hawk eyes now more like bug eyes and full of bewilderment. “Your Majesty, I never had the slightest notion of it being poison, I … I swear it by the Almighty.”
I stepped forward. “She’s telling the truth, Your Majesty. I don’t believe Nurse Joan ever meant to hurt her Mistress. She was only following bad orders.”
The wiry old housemaid looked as though someone had slapped her. She lowered her eyes to the floor, and I could see her jaw clenching as she backed slowly against the wall.
“We shall see,” the Queen answered. “Now, have you anything else in that most unusual satchel?”
I pulled out the stack of letters and offered them to the steward who in turn delivered them into the Queen’s hand. “They’re the Baron’s letters. I found them with the other items, but I can’t quite make out the handwriting.”
In a very business-like manner, the Queen untied the red ribbon and unfolded the first letter. As she read, her eyes widened and darted faster and faster over the page. The strings of pearls on her chest rose and fell with her quickening breath. “Bring me the bottle at once.” She held out her open hand while the steward took the bottle from me and delivered it to the Queen. She uncorked it, closed her eyes and held it to her nose. Although the Queen’s face was powdered white, I almost fancied she became a shade whiter. “’Tis Inheritance Powder,” she muttered as if she’d just seen a ghost. She handed the bottle back to the steward and returned her face to its usual composed, statue-like expression. “My dear, do you have any idea what this is?” She waved the letter.
“It looks like some sort of recipe?” I asked, afraid of sounding childish.
“Not just any recipe. It is the recipe for a witch’s potion concocted especially for the purpose of killing off one’s relatives in order to claim their inheritance for one’s self. What is more, it is addressed to the Baron and signed by what appears to be a most … particular friend of his, Mistress Liddy Thompson.”
I didn’t know what to say. The Queen promptly folded the letter up and tucked the whole lot into a fold in her gown. “Walter, I would speak with … what is your name, child?”
I cleared my throat. “Watson, Your Majesty. Katherine Watson.”
She bowed her head. “I would speak with Mistress Katherine Watson alone. Clear the hall, if you please.”
Walter made the announcement. It was followed by a general murmur, a rustle of skirts, then finally, as Walter pushed the doors shut with only himself, the Queen and me inside, silence.
“Come closer, my dear. Yes, sit here on the stair, just beside me.”
I did as I was told, feeling suddenly conscious of being in the presence of a Queen while smelling of a meat locker; and I didn’t even want to know what state my hair was in.
The Queen leaned forward in her chair, and I knew from the intense look in her eyes, she was about to say something important. She spoke in a low voice, enunciating each word to be sure I understood. “Katherine, I believe all that you have just revealed to me. And I believe there is yet time to persuade the King before it is too late. But it will be a delicate matter. Can I count upon you?”
I nodded wholeheartedly. “Yes, Your Majesty. What shall I do?”
“In a mere hour’s time, I will escort Sophia to the church in my carriage. The King and the Baron will be awaiting us, and the wedding will begin promptly at midday. That is the time to reveal the Baron’s schemes, when he is away from home and cornered between this evidence and God’s altar. Be certain the King sees all that you have shown me. Especially these.” She handed me back the letters. “But you must not tell anyone of this conversation. If the King knew that I advised you in any way, he may presume that I have contrived the whole thing and not give ear to what you have to say. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“It is a dangerous undertaking, Katherine. I am sorry to ask it of you. Are you prepared?”
“It’s not nearly as bad as the risk of not doing it,” I replied.
The Queen smiled her first truly warm smile. “You are courageous of heart, my child. But I do wish there were someone who might stand beside you.”
“But there is. Oh, Your Majesty, I almost forgot to tell you! It’s not Frederick in the jail.”
She looked utterly bewildered, but once I’d explained how the two boys had swapped places and Frederick was safely hidden with Tom, the Queen put her hand over her heart and looked as though she might cry for joy. “Then he is safe. Now, you must go to them at once! We have not a minute to lose. God be with you, Katherine Watson, until we meet again.” She held out her hand to me. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it, so I took it and gave it a gentle shake. She pressed her red lips together again like she was holding in a laugh. I guessed I was probably meant to kiss her hand instead of shaking it. But I didn’t have the chance to correct my mistake. The Queen called to Walter and asked him to personally escort me to the gatehouse and see that nobody delayed my journey. He bowed and waited for me to walk out first.
“Thank you, Your Majesty. God bless you!” I said, and nearly skipped my way down the red carpet with poor Walter trying to keep pace with me. But my heart was too full of the hope of a second chance to slow down. The rescue mission was back on!
27
Ride to the Rescue
“Tom, Frederick! I’ve got it! I’ve got the evidence! There’s STILL TIME!” I skidded into the forest glade and stopped in front of the shepherd’s wagon. I had run so fast, my heart felt like it might explode.
Vagabond whinnied a greeting, but no other response came. Perhaps Tom and Frederick were keeping cover in the wagon. My hand was on the door, ready to slide it back, when it opened and Frederick stuck out his dishevelled head. My eyes went straight away to the sword hanging at his waist. His hand rested on its hilt.
“Good God, Katie! We were certain you were captured.”
“I was,” I panted. “Nurse Joan locked me in the meat cellar all night, but then I spoke to the Queen, and she believes us … about everything!”
“The Queen believes us?” He looked confused, as though he hadn’t quite heard me right. “How …”
“I showed her the evidence. That was all it took, and she thinks when the King sees it, he’ll believe it too. But Frederick, there’s no time to explain the rest now. Where’s Tom?”
“When you didn’t return, he disguised himself again and went back to the Manor. He hoped Jack Hornsby would help him find out what had become of you.”
“Oh no …” I groaned. “There’s no time! Frederick, the Baron lied to Sophia. He doesn’t mean to release the prisoners after the wedding at all. I heard two guards talking. Digby and Bessy are going to be hanged as soon as the church bells toll after the wedding.”
Frederick pushed past me and leapt down the step ladder, drawing his sword like he was in the middle of a battle. “No longer will I hide like a craven while a good man dies in my place. I am Lord of this house, and I shall not sit idly by while such a crime is committed.” He looked fearsome, but all the fight quickly deflated out of him. He looked around as if lost, his sword hanging limp. “But Sophia. I must save Sophia, though saving her may cost th
e lives of Digby and Bessy. What am I to do?”
I jumped down from the step ladder and marched over to him. “I’ll go and rescue Sophia. You find Tom.” He looked as though he wanted to object, but he let me finish. “Hopefully the two of you plus Jack and anyone else who will help can hold off the execution until the King returns. Your servants hate the Baron. I’ve heard them complaining about him in the kitchens. They’ll listen to you!”
Frederick’s chest rose up proudly once again. “You’re right. It’s time I took my place as their Earl. But Katie, it’s barely half an hour to midday now. How will you stop the wedding in time?”
I gritted my teeth and looked frantically around for an answer. It came to me from behind, in the form of a snort. “I’ll ride.”
He looked at me like I was loony. “What, Vagabond? Nobody’s been able to mount that horse. He’s thrown off the entire King’s guard. Katie, you cannot …”
I didn’t wait for him to finish. I marched over to the hitching post and untied Vagabond’s tether. I nestled against his muscular shoulder and reached my hand up to stroke his neck. “I need you, Vagabond. Please,” I whispered. He lowered his head as if truly listening. “Let’s do this together.” I stepped back and took one enormous breath. “Will you help me up?” I asked Frederick.
“Are you sure, Katie? He could kill you.”
“He won’t kill me.” I hoped I was right. “And yes, I’m sure.”
Frederick shook his head, but he came. He cupped his hands together and held them out. I gave Vagabond one last look in the eye and nodded. Breathing deeply, steadily, I raised one trembling hand up and got a handful of his mane, stepped my foot into Frederick’s cupped hands and pushed off, swinging my leg over the horse and coming to sit squarely on his broad back. For an uncertain moment, Vagabond pranced backward and forward as if he didn’t know what to make of things. I knew just how he felt. I leant over and stroked his neck. “It’s ok, Vagabond. We’ve got this.” I looked at Frederick and nodded. “Good luck.”