Connecticut Vampire in King Arthur's Court

by Hall, Ian

  November 25th, 1501

  My Love Goes With Me

  And, of course, the line proved indeed a long one, and it seems that a pecking order existed, but since Thomas Linacre seemed to be overseeing the part of the appointing of the Prince’s court, I got pulled to the front.

  “Master DeVere.” He pushed me closer to the corner of the large palace room where the Prince sat. “So glad to see you. Do you look forward to returning to Ludlow?”

  “Not really, but my priorities lie with the Prince himself.”

  “Well said, well said.”

  Once at the fore, when the last man before the Prince rose, and left, he waved me forward.

  “Master DeVere.” He looked calm, very collected, and totally at ease with himself. Considering my intercession on the pillow of his bedding night had been the last time we’d really interacted, his eyes held no animosity, only a joy in life. “I seek your presence at Ludlow, will you join me there?”

  “Yes, Your Grace, of course.”

  “Very well. We will rest at Baynard’s Castle until just before Christmas, then travel to Ludlow.” He paused, then gave a quick look to either side. “I have a favor to ask.”

  “Anything in my power, Your Grace.”

  “The rooms at Ludlow are cold and intolerant. I seek a good environment to continue my evening’s work, if you understand. I cannot allow the damp walls of Ludlow to break me again.” Again, he paused. “I now have dispensation from the King to choose my own Court, and I intend to choose well. Since you have aided me in the most, eh, intimate, of matters, I think I can trust you completely.”

  “I hope so, Your Grace.”

  Again the looks to either side. “I seek to grow a spy network, so that when I become King, I will not be relying on father’s castoffs. Your role as tutor, although never being actually literary, has been invaluable to me. I seek to appoint you as the head of such a network.”

  I swallowed. It seems Prince Arthur had indeed matured over the last few weeks, and I wondered what influence Princess Catherine had exerted. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

  “You will, of course, in addition to your new duties, continue to ‘tutor’ me, and give English lessons to my wife, the Princess Catherine.”

  I knew I had to watch my words, so chose them carefully. “Is the Princess Catherine also to be privy to our ‘other’ meetings?”

  He leant forward on his chair. “It is the Princess Catherine who suggested this plan and suggested you lead it.” He again did the side-to-side lookie thing; I determined he’d have to get out of that habit fast, he just looked so conspiratorial. “She was aghast that I did not already have such friends working for me. It seems that in Spain, this is almost second nature.”

  I felt good about that. Getting Lady Jane to Ludlow with me had just moved a step closer. “And your first orders, Your Grace?”

  He grinned, full of himself, brimming with confidence. “Go to Ludlow ahead of us, and root out father’s network, replacing them with ours.”

  I rubbed my chin. “Perhaps just seeing who they are will suffice, Your Grace. If we know their identities, we can provide the King with false information if we need to.”

  He laughed, sitting upright on his throne. He clapped his hands together. “Oh I love it! Catherine was right, you’re perfect for this.”

  I hadn’t the heart to tell him that I’d got most of my espionage experience from watching spy movies on television, but took encouragement from his obvious enthusiasm.

  As he dismissed me, and I walked past a busy Linacre, I reflected that I’d just been promoted to a position of such trust and responsibility. But I’d also been allowed into the very core of the future Queen, whichever brother she ended up being Queen with.

  And I’d already dipped my fingers in her pussy.

  Wonderful.

  I sought Princess Margaret and found her, as usual with these Catholic princesses; on her knees.

  As I entered the small chapel on the north side of the courtyard, I bowed to each of the ladies at the door, and walked confidently past. As I approached, I knelt, and crossed myself as I’d seen so many do, then drew level with the Princess, kneeling beside her.

  “Princess Margaret, I apologize, but I need an audience. It is an urgent matter concerning your brother, Prince Arthur.”

  She muttered for a moment, clutching the dark brown beads in her hands, then crossed herself. “You may speak.”

  “Your Grace, I have been given the responsibility to travel ahead to Ludlow and organize suitable living quarters for your brother and Princess Catherine.”

  I heard her sigh. “Has the King no sense?” she chided. “The castle is so damp in winter.”

  “Your help would be appreciated.” I nodded. “I don’t know the castle that well, perhaps you have a suggestion?”

  “Hmm.” In deep thought, she paused for a moment. “When do you travel?”

  “I will leave tomorrow morning,” I said without thinking. “I have a lot to achieve in a short time.”

  “I will have one of my ladies attend you this evening.” I’m certain I detected a smile crossing her lips.

  “Ah, well that brings another subject to mind.”

  “You wish me to release your Lady Jane Winterbrooke from my court.”

  Well, damn if she hadn’t taken the words out of my mouth. I looked at the child kneeling next to me, and again wondered if King James knew what he had betrothed himself to.

  “Technically, yes.”

  “I cannot.”

  Having thought my mission over, I baulked at the idea of failure. “But, Your Grace…”

  She raised her hand, and by now I knew that meant I should shut up.

  “I cannot release her. She would lose stature in the court appointees. You must find her a suitable position before I can be seen to let her go.”

  “And your recommendation?”

  “Why, the Princess Royal, of course.” She grinned. “Richard, as a conspirator, you are unflappable. As a spy you will be tremendous.” She raised her hand again. “Arthur sought my advice before going ahead with his plan. But as a man in love, you are such a fool. Find Catherine, just ask her permission, and she will grant it. But we have to keep to protocol here. I cannot sanction the downward plunge of one of my ladies, you understand?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  It seems that all of the royal family had grown in confidence for their stay in London.

  The Princess of Wales proved considerably harder to approach than the others. The heavens had opened, dropping sheets of rain on the courtyard, and even narrowing her position down to a single building proved difficult. Ultimately I found her in her own apartments, surrounded by merchants, who held bundles of cloth, lace and embroidered material.

  I stood by the doorway, hoping I’d catch her eye, but first, of course, I found the attention of Isabella, the Princess’s dour matron.

  The two women huddled in Spanish, then the old lady approached me. “Ze main chapel, Saint Augustine’s, after dinner.”

  I bowed, thanked her, and left. Boy, did every piece of Tudor subterfuge get carried out in church?

  I skipped the meal and examined every inch of the chapel. I looked under every pew, and examined every crack of stone, but could see nothing untoward. Then, as I walked back along the aisle, looking up at the high beams, a protruding corner caught my eye.

  I moved to get a better viewpoint.

  A small doorway right next to the large timber ceiling beam. I looked around, crossed to the wall below the beam, then began to climb.

  It doesn’t take much purchase to let a vampire climb, and the wall’s ornate woodwork allowed me easy access to the timber that crossed the chapel, forty feet up.

  A small door, visible only because it had been left ajar, lay at one end of the beam. I crossed to the door and looked inside. Steps led downward, into a dark windowless staircase. I descended until I felt a stone floor beneath me. One step forward led me
to a closed door, a small handle about waist height. I pressed my ear against the door and heard voices in the room beyond.

  “Do you think them capable of such a slight?” I thought I detected the timbre of Norfolk’s thick tones.

  “I think not, my friend. They would not disgrace their Princess.” I recognized the Archbishop’s voice.

  “But only one hundred thousand pieces?”

  “It may be the first payment, we will have to wait on further developments.”

  “But to renege on a dowry, that sounds cheap.”

  “And since we talk of the Spaniard, how does she fare?”

  “She meets someone tonight, my source did not see the man, but it will be in the chapel of Saint Augustine. I will find his identity then. The King will know tonight, and we will act accordingly.”

  “She meets in secret?” The Archbishop sounded very interested. “Only a fortnight after her wedding? Do you know if he’s another Spaniard?”

  “My man only heard the instruction, and saw the man from behind. The man did not answer.”

  So a secret listening hole existed in the Princess’s apartments? I would investigate that later.

  The two voices diminished quickly, and I pushed at the handle.

  The door turned out to be a piece of hinged paneling, and the room looked like an office of some sort. I ran to the door and looked outside, just in time to see Norfolk and the Archbishop turn the corner of the corridor beyond.

  Closing both doors behind me, I followed them, but they separated quickly, leaving me needing to stop the Princess getting to the chapel.

  I waited near the door to the dining room, then flashed past her, full vampire speed. “No chapel,” I said twice very clearly. I watched her stop, look around, then she went into the main palace buildings. I didn’t follow, but walked very deliberately across the darkening, rain-swept courtyard. If anyone were to follow me, I’d lead them away from the Princess before doubling back.

  With no chance that human eyes could have seen me, I raced round the outside of the palace, and entered by another gate.

  Princess Catherine stood by a window, watching the rain sweep onto the glass, her two Spanish maids in close attendance.

  I raced by them all. “Bedding room.” I saw her head turn, looking for a trace of the sound.

  Once inside the second room, kneeling behind the headboard, looking through the peephole, I waited for Catherine’s arrival. Minutes later, a draught of fresh air hit my eye as the door opened.

  “Ire solo,” she said to someone in the corridor, probably Isabella, then she closed the door and walked into the room. She looked at the bed and smiled warmly. “You are here, yes?”

  I unbolted the headboard, and lifted it up. “I’m here.”

  She approached the bed, and sat on the side. “You plan well.”

  “We were watched when we planned to meet at the church.”

  She looked at me as she processed the words. “Who?”

  “Word got to the Duke of Norfolk, and the Archbishop of Canterbury.”

  “High indeed.” She looked at the bed, and smoothed a wrinkle on the pillow. “You touch me, here.”

  I felt my face go red. “It was a difficult time, Your Grace. I only did it for the good of you and Prince Arthur.”

  Then her steely dark brown eyes met mine. “You touch me here.” She put her hand on her left breast, the one I’d indeed fondled. “In my words; violación.”

  I remembered the touch of it well. “Your Grace…” but she held up her hand, stymying me, a gesture used far too often as of late.

  She placed her hand in her lap. “You touch me here. Arthur now touch me here, same way you touch.”

  I knelt in silence, wanting to run away from this difficult, awkward conversation.

  “You touch me here.” She placed her fingers as near to between her legs as her large dress would allow. “Again, violación, but still you touch me.”

  I had no idea where she was going, but for now it didn’t bode well for me.

  “You touch me here.” And she pushed her hand hard against her dress, pushing it into her crotch. “The same way Arthur now touch me here.”

  I nodded in shame.

  “Now Arthur needs spies, he has none. You are perfect man for spies. If you can touch Princess, here, you can do anything.”

  Whew. I felt like I’d dodged a firing squad.

  “I now feel you in my belly each night.” She looked at me like a lion at a felled gazelle. “One day I have the master lie with me, not the boy.”

  Oh crap.

  Then, instantly, the expression changed, the lion had gone. “Now, what so importanté?”

  Oh, yes, the original reason for meeting. “Your Grace, I would ask a favor.” I realize the gall, but had to do it anyway.

  “Name it.”

  “I would ask that the Lady Jane Winterbrooke be added to your ladies in waiting.”

  She considered it for just a second. “Done. I will arrange it.”

  I bowed as much as my cramped position would allow. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “One more favor for me to bring back to you.” She did the lion look again. “One day I enjoy more than your finger.”

  And leaving me dumbstruck, my head poking across the pillow, she got up, walked briskly across the room, and left.

  November 28th, 1501

  Back to Ludlow

  Lying on my bed, reeling from my meeting with Princess Catherine and the glimpse of the hard woman beyond the mask of the child, I heard a knock at my door, then it quickly opened.

  Princess Margaret, alone, holding her finger to her lips as she moved quickly to me, then leant down on the bed.

  I shivered. I couldn’t take another Princess promising to fuck me one day.

  She only stopped when her cheek touched mine. “We are being listened to,” she whispered in the lowest of tones, nuzzling me close. “I have a solution to the problem at Ludlow.”

  “Yes, Your Grace?”

  “The gatehouse building is just the right size for a royal household, has bright, open windows, and large fireplaces. It should be used while the Prince rebuilds the inside of the palace to his specification.”

  The implication was clear. The Prince’s new retinue would stay at the gatehouse indefinitely, with a ruse of making the castle more presentable.

  I remembered the gatehouse, on the outside of the tall castle wall. “What about security?”

  “That’s what guards are for. Besides, it’s just for a few months while renovations are completed.”

  “I can organize that, I think.”

  She moved slightly, then, lingering near me, kissed my cheek. “Goodbye, sweet man.”

  The realization dawned that she thought this would be our last meeting.

  Then she rose from her crouched position, gave the slightest of curtseys, and left.

  Five minutes later, the door went again, this time an excited Lady Jane rushed in, spouting thank-yous and congratulations all around the room. For once, it felt good not to think of intrigue, of knife-and-dagger politics.

  We made love and forgot our worldly cares for a while.

  The next morning, I made my way out of London, but not directly for Ludlow. It would be expected that a single man on horseback could make the trip comfortably in three days. I set off to the south and west, heading for the village where I’d met the ‘wisewoman’.

  With no Strogoi allies in 1501, and having only met one, I wanted to persuade her to move to Ludlow, not for my personal lust, but to strengthen my position and my security in the town.

  But of course, I had no idea of the village’s name, so had to retrace my route of a month ago, looking for the wayside inn which I’d hardly slept in. I took a horse, intending it only for the first day, but, of course, it rained, and soaked me through by the time I’d even gotten outside London. And the countryside, now totally devoid of leaves, looked vastly different.

  By noon, I felt glad of
the company, even if it was just a warm back to sit on.

  Only when the sky began to darken did I find the village, then the wisewoman’s door. The lack of answer to my knocking made me want to try and enter, but something held me back; a feeling of darkness and disgust, and spiders and snakes.

  I recoiled from the handle, and tried the house next door. “I seek the wisewoman.”

  “Abigail,” the toothless woman nodded and smiled. At least now I knew her name. “She’ll be up at the abbey right now.”

  “And where is that?” I asked.

  “Up on the hill.” She looked at me like I’d just asked the stupidest question.

  “A direction?”

  “Over there!” and she pointed to the north, I think.

  I thanked her profusely, slipped a coin into her unbelieving hand, and left, riding ‘up the hill’ and eventually to a small walled monastery.

  The monk who answered the bell at the gate admitted me without emotion, saying that the Mistress Abigail would be in the kitchen.

  I found her alone, standing over a workbench, crushing something in a big crucible with a large stone implement. Even under her considerably bunched clothing, her figure shone through.

  “I found you,” I said into the silence of her work, but she never flinched.

  “And I heard your horse in the courtyard.” She looked up from her grinding work, but did not stop. “If you ride him much more today, he’ll go lame.”

  “And if you’re such a smartass all the time, you’ll get a good spanking.” The words were out my mouth before I knew, man did this filly get me going.

  “And when will he be born, this man who will perform such a task?” Her expression remained impassive, but she had stopped grinding in the large stone vessel.

  “What do you do here?” I changed the subject.

  “Hah!” She resumed her stirring. “I dry and crush herbs for the friars. They pretty much leave me alone. Sometimes I get them praying over me, but that’s about the extent of their attentions.”

  “I’m quite certain you’d be able to stop them if they tried anything.”

  “All very nice, Master of the Prince.” She gently blew over her crushed herbs, wafting stalks away. “But still no closer to the reason why you’re here. Or do you just want to plough me again?”