Ludovic remained propped by pillows, leaning back heavily. “I trust,” he said softly, “that you have checked whether we might be overheard? You speak terrible treason. Are we safe in this place? Are there spies amongst the servants?”
The earl smiled. “I am not a fool, my boy. I do not intend the arrest of the son to be echoed by that of the father.”
Ludovic, his head now calm and the pain lessened, ignored what agony remained throbbing through the misery of his joints. “But in the end,” he said, “clearly the king remembered his duty of mercy, for after all this time we are pardoned. You must have been relentless, my lord.”
The earl paused before speaking again. “Indeed. I was relentless, my son. I am not known to accept failure, nor do I permit myself retirement before I achieve my aims. I have never yet started something which I have not also finished, as I believe you are aware, Ludovic. Over these past months I have daily battered at the king’s doors and when he refused me, I sent endless messages and petitions. I presented him with gifts, with promises, with reminders of past loyalty, with legal argument, and even with veiled threats. I have employed six attorneys and two sergeants-at-law. I have spoken at such length with the Lord Chancellor, that I could count the whiskers on his foul chin.”
Ludovic closed his eyes. The chamber rested in shadow, but the huge firelight stung his eyelids. Each sound louder than a rustle, each light brighter than a pale glow, attacked his senses, sending him black pain-clouded and his head reeling. “But you succeeded,” he murmured. “Have I yet truly thanked you, sir, for saving my life? Long ago I surrendered hope. It seems still almost unbelievable that I am here, in comfort and assured of safety. Is Gerald here too?”
Once again the earl paused. “I believe Gerald is asleep,” he said at last. “And I have spoken enough. You should also sleep.”
Ludovic opened his eyes again. “I expected to sleep forever. Now I fear to dream.”
The doctors had left for the evening. Ludovic had been sleeping as they left, and their prognostications had been confided to the earl in whispers. They had not yet been able to promise their patient a full recovery and were still unsure whether the young lord would ever walk again. His bones and muscles were much damaged. Until the swellings shrank, a full examination was impossible without causing great pain. But victims of the rack were rarely fortunate in their futures and most broken bodies stripped from the arms of the Duke of Exeter’s daughter were likely to remain broken.
The earl had not informed his son of these doubts. “When you are quite recovered, my boy, we will return to Sumerford. But your body has been much abused. We will rest here for some time as is necessary. Weeks perhaps. You will soon learn to trust your dreams again.”
“I’ll sleep better once I’ve seen Gerald.” Ludovic frowned, gazing across to his father. “Tell me the truth, Father. Is he well? Was he also racked?”
The earl bent his head. “He was,” he said softly. “Several days before your own ordeal. He is, however,” the earl looked up, staring directly into Ludovic’s questioning gaze, “as well as can be expected.”
“I’m greatly relieved.” Ludovic’s face relaxed. “Gerald would be considered a more proven traitor than myself, though they can’t hold incontrovertible proof or no confession under torture would have been required.” Ludovic sighed. “Gerald’s body might have broken quicker, but not his resolve. He’d never have confessed whatever force was used against him.” Ludovic sighed again, looking into his father’s severe grey eyes. “I was ready to confess, you see, before you came and set me free.”
“Then I came in time,” said his lordship. “Had you confessed, Ludovic, the pardon would not have sufficed.”
Ludovic nodded. “Indeed, I had confessed. In my mind the words were spoken. But no one heard.” He smiled slightly. “I’m weaker than Gerald, you see. The confession mentioned inciting rebellion and secret meetings with men whose names I’d never heard before. The words have echoed many times in my mind since, remembering what I was willing to sign in order to escape the pain.”
“And yet,” said the earl very quietly, “you were involved, I believe, in some small treachery. And Gerald in more.”
“What Gerald did or did not do,” Ludovic said, “I will leave to him to explain. He is more passionate, more loyal, and an idealist, whereas I prefer pragmatism. I do not love lost causes and I’ve neither incited rebellion nor actively promoted Tudor’s overthrow. I believe Prince Richard’s claim to be utterly hopeless. But my opinions have been shared with no one else, sir, and only Gerald knew my sympathies.”
“And the person who betrayed you to the king’s spies.”
Ludovic could still not easily move his shoulders, but he shook his head slightly. “I have no idea who that might be. But I was seen attending the execution of Gerald’s squire. I saw him first in Newgate, I paid for his keep in gaol, and was on the official’s list of visitors. I believe that was the only suspicion they had against me.”
“You have been exceptionally foolhardy, my son,” the earl said. “And careless in more ways than this. But we will speak of sweeter things in the morning. Now you must sleep.”
Ludovic looked up. “Already? There seems so much to talk of. All those bitter weeks in prison were wretched for many reasons, but most of all for the silence and the solitary isolation. To speak to no one for months, not to hear the sound of any voice, to have no human contact nor even the illusion of company, is a desperate sort of loneliness which I never thought to experience. Days had no beginning and nights no end. One’s own thoughts ramble and become insane. Now your company is as sweet as any I could imagine. And I have so many questions. For instance, you’ve avoided telling me anything of the doctor’s predictions.” He stared at his father, challenging. “Before I sleep, tell me one thing. Will I walk again?”
“You are my son,” said the earl. “You will walk, and ride, and fight again. You will return to Sumerford in full health. And I will have you know that the discomforts of travelling by horse drawn litter are so abysmal, that I recommend the saddle however weak you may still feel. You will regain your pride and your strength, Ludovic, but you will never again become involved in politics or threaten the power of kings. Do you hear me?”
Ludovic smiled. “I do, my lord. And will obey.”
“I am glad to hear it, my boy.” The earl nodded, his own smile controlled. “My manner may have weakened during these past days – softened you might say – in face of peril, of losing my sons, and of contemplating their pain. No doubt you have noticed. But the House of Sumerford retains its pride, and I still demand obedience.”
The first thorough examination of Ludovic’s legs was performed the next afternoon after dinner. He ate little, finding his stomach considerably shrunken. Following months of little food, he desired great feasts but found he could not swallow them. The Burgundy wine made him light headed and sleepy but helped to lessen the incessant pain. As the doctors manipulated his knee sockets, Ludovic gasped, drawing in his breath and clamping his jaw on a moan.
“If,” said the earl from the bedside, “you believe I desire my son to act the fool and pretend heroism, then you are greatly mistaken, Ludovic. You may howl like a wolf, my boy. I shall not be disturbed.”
“I’m obliged, my lord,” Ludovic said, teeth clamped. “But I shall endeavour not to impersonate the animals of the forest. I imagine it would be quite exhausting.”
It was several hours before the doctors decided on a verdict. They demanded Ludovic urinate in a cup, and then examined the liquid with considerable interest, dabbling with a fingertip to taste the acidity. They consulted his horoscope, and although his Sun at birth was in Scorpio, which was not at all auspicious, it caused no particular friction with the Taurean bull in the zodiac of the present month. There was therefore a harmonious balance, while Jupiter in Aquarius would pour healing waters on the suffering bones.
“I believe, my lord,” said the medik, addressing the earl while Ludov
ic gazed from one to the other, “that no permanent damage has been sustained. The muscles are much weakened but no joint is dislocated or fractured. It would seem most possible that your son will walk again in time, but only if he is exceedingly patient and makes no attempt to rise from his bed for at least two months. No strain must be put upon the legs, nor weights carried by the arms. He must not wash himself nor dress himself, and I will prescribe a special diet of milks, berries and red meat, with willow bark and poppy in a tincture of garlic and marigold. He appears to be of a sanguine nature and therefore needs to reconstitute the blood, so I do not intend to bleed him at this time. I may decide to do so over the next few days if the humours prove further undermined. I am also tempted to administer an enema in order to purge the past months of poisonous air and damp vapours, but will wait until he is a little stronger. Above all he must not take up exercise or anything strenuous. He must not copulate for at least three months, and must not strain his bowls or his lungs.”
Ludovic smiled faintly. “Some of your restrictions, sir, will be comparatively easy to follow. But is the matter so grave that I need stay in bed for quite so long?”
“Indeed, my lord. Or risk shattering both legs, which are already much weakened,” insisted the doctor. “I will continue to evaluate the situation each day. Should your recovery be quicker than expected, I shall be able to adjust my prescriptions.”
The following day Ludovic was surprised to wake early, and with little immediate pain until he moved, and winced. His father was curled asleep beside him, snoring gently and twitching in his dreams. The heavy shutters enclosed the chamber in darkness and last night’s fire was reduced to a scattering of sooty warm ashes. Ludovic could see very little, smelling only smoke and the faint floating sweetness of lilac. He heard a rustle in the roof above, and his father’s rhythmic and guttural breathing. He lay silent, staring into the shadows.
At first he expected to hear the small voice of his other companion, the only friend who had spoken to him during his long months in the Tower. But no ghostly whispers reminded him of misery and death. It was his father’s voice that came abruptly, though he had not been aware that the sounds of his guttural breathing had ceased.
“Awake, my son? How do you feel?”
“I need to see Gerald,” Ludovic said carefully into the darkness. “It occurs to me that you have been persistently at my side, sir. I supposed Gerry to be here in another chamber, but why do you not visit him? You even sleep here beside me, which you have never done before in my life.” Ludovic paused, gathering his strength for the truth. “What is wrong with Gerald, Papa?”
The earl remained quiet for some moments. He did not move, but lay quite still. Then he said, very softly, “Your brother confessed, Ludovic. On the rack, he consented to sign his confession, and then did so. His trial followed immediately. Gerald remains in the Tower. His execution will take place in five days’ time.”
Chapter Forty-Five
“If fer his lordship,” Ellis insisted, “I’ll do it. Anyfing, wotever and wherever. If this is his lordship’s lady friend and he wants her, then I’ll get her for him, if’n she bloody likes it or no.”
“Idiot brat,” seethed the captain. “It ain’t no abduction I’m planning. The lady is willing, at least, I reckon she must be. Knowing his lordship, wouldn’t any plain Miss be ready and right proper willing?”
Ellis shook his head. He distrusted women and their capricious decisions. “Far as I see it, she’s done run away. But I shall get her back fer ‘is lordship.”
Kenelm leaned his elbows on the table and glared over his ale cup. “And the thing is – it’s Clovis gone and disappeared too. His mother’s right bloody worried, and I’m getting the blame.”
Ellis had already finished his ale and was hoping for another. The innkeeper was busy with other customers but Ellis kept him in sight. “That little bugger Clovis,” he said, “were always well past the yardarm. You reckon he’s the cock’s spurs just ‘cos he’s yer nevvy. Shouldn’t never have taken him on, you should’n. I should’ve bin the Rouncie’s cabin boy from the start.”
“Less o’ yer jealousy,” objected Kenelm. “This is a serious situation, and we’ve got to sort it quick. There’s his lordship real sick after just bin pardoned, and wants his lady friend to hear the good news right away. But with her disappeared and Clovis gone too, things look mighty odd.”
“Mayhap they’ve run off together,” suggested Ellis. “Never trusted Clovis I didn’t. An’ don’t trust no females neither.”
Captain Kenelm regarded his cabin boy with measured dislike. “Is you a moon looned pillicoot, boy? My nevvy has fair on eleven years to his name. The lady in question, not that I’ve met her, but I reckon she’s nigh on eighteen or more from wot Lord Ludo says. Have you taken leave o’ yer senses, lad? Wot lady is gonna choose Clovis over his lordship?”
“Fair enuff. Pr’aps she told him no. So Clovis done her in,” concluded Ellis.
“I am going to see the countess,” Kenelm said with dignity and a scathing disregard for Ellis’s suspicions. “I’ve proper authority and we ain’t talking smuggling here. I’ve news o’ his lordship and have a right to see her ladyship. You wait here. I’ll be back some time. At least, I hopes I will.”
“His lordship and t’other lordship done saved my life,” said Ellis, standing at once. “I’m coming wiv you.”
Kenelm sighed. “One look at you, they’ll have the steward chuck us both out. Do like I says for once in yer miserable life, and stay here. If I don’t come back tonight, you go for the sheriff.” He smiled faintly at Ellis’s look of thunderstruck incredulity. “Yes, yes, I know,” he continued. “’Tis against the natural morals of an honest seafaring man, but we’re talking real law-abiding folk here, with titles and castles and everything. If I can’t do naught, then it’s the sheriff we needs.” He stood, and then relented, throwing two silver pennies onto the table. “Go on. Fill yersell with beer while yer wait for me like a good boy.”
The castle page, having answered the door to a stocky and ill-dressed ruffian, and having been unable to persuade the ruffian to remove his foot and take himself off, informed Hamnet. At first inclined to dismiss both the man and his story, the steward finally condescended to question the interloper in person. He stood on the doorstep and surveyed the creature before him. “Beggars and vagrants,” he said, in his loftiest voice and with calculated insult, “must go around to the kitchens for begging, where their lordship’s remainders from the high table will be allotted to the needy.”
Kenelm adjusted his stance, setting his shoulders into a belligerent width, and glared. “I’ll have you know,” he said loudly, “I’m a respectable ship’s captain, and the Lord Ludovic Sumerford’s legal partner. I has papers to prove it wot’s more, though not on me o’course. Him an’ me is owners of a grand little cob together, and a trading business wot I runs for him.”
“If you have recent news of Lord Ludovic,” Hamnet said at once, “then you must speak to her ladyship, the young lord’s mother. I shall enquire whether she will consent to see you. What name shall I give?”
“Captain Kenelm,” he announced with pride. “But I’ve a couple o’ questions meself to ast first. Like the whereabouts o’ the Missus Alysson Welles wot was staying here. And the young page Clovis, wot his lordship sent to look after her.”
Hamnet shook his head. “Such matters are none of your business, my man,” he said with careful hauteur. “Nor do I concern myself with the female staff, nor the hire of the castle pages. If this is all you have to say, you must leave. I shall not allow you to pester her ladyship with such demeaning business.”
“You let me worry ‘bout that,” said Kenelm with an unwise wink. “Meantime, I’ve had word from the master, Lord Ludovic that is, and want to see the countess.”
The captain was eventually shown into the great hall where the Countess of Sumerford sat beside the cold and empty hearth, discussing her tapestry stitches with her female
companion. She did not ask Kenelm to sit. “Speak up, man,” said her ladyship, peering through the gloom. “What news?”
Kenelm bowed low. “If I might introduce myself, yer ladyship.” He bowed a second time, hands behind his back. “Captain Kenelm at yer service, and have news o’ my business partner Lord Ludovic, straight from Westminster. His pardon were signed by the king hisself on St. George’s Day, an’ is now a free man in his earlship’s care.”
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