"You said that before," Harry replied, looking confused, "But I still don't understand."
"Harry, say Elizabeth be taken and someone—say, Blanche—cries that the true child was replaced by a changeling and it was the changeling that died, not the true Elizabeth. That might be believed. King Henry is tired of dead children. Other men's children live, his die. He will want to believe the child's death was not his fault nor Anne's." He waited to see if Harry understood.
Knowing his father now, FitzRoy nodded.
"So, Henry will give order that a hunt be made for the source of the changeling. What would they look for?" He paused.
"Elves," FitzRoy said flatly.
"Exactly so," Denoriel agreed. "And even if they did not find me, nor Aleneil, the danger is not over. There are human sorcerers and some are strong, like Blanche Parry. If such a one should seek, he will find Gates like mine, and breaks in the mortal world through which those of Underhill can come and go. We are strong and we have magic, but we are few. Mortals . . . thousands, even hundreds of thousands all garbed in cold iron and carrying iron weapons. . . . We would be overwhelmed."
Queen Anne was pregnant again by February of 1534, and Denoriel's predictions seemed all too likely to come true. In April Blanche reported that she thought "something" was watching Elizabeth, something she could not see but that made a sour smell in her mind. She admitted it did not come close to the child—perhaps the cross always pinned to one garment or another was the reason—but it frightened her.
Denoriel brought her several amulets of Aleneil's devising that she could invoke with a word. Invoked, the spell would cover the baby and the crib. FitzRoy increased the frequency of his visits, and the next time Blanche sensed an intruder, FitzRoy was there, dandling the eight-month-old Elizabeth in his arms.
As usual the child was reaching eagerly toward the star on FitzRoy's forehead when suddenly her mouth twisted and she began to wail; almost in the same moment, Blanche cried out and pointed. Since he could see and sense nothing, FitzRoy could only clutch Elizabeth tighter and let the baby push the hair off his forehead while he stared in the direction the maid had pointed.
In a moment Elizabeth began to laugh again; simultaneously the maid sighed and said the noxious thing—whatever it was—was gone. FitzRoy stayed a little longer to make sure it would not return and then began to pray for Denoriel to come. There was some tie between them; FitzRoy did not know how it could work, but when he was really distressed and needed the Sidhe, mostly he soon arrived—as he did early that evening on a Miralys who, for once, looked tired. Ladbroke hurried the elvensteed off to the stable and FitzRoy hurried Denoriel into the house for a glass of wine in the parlor with the doors closed to everyone else.
"What am I to do?" FitzRoy asked after he had described what had happened. "Lady Bryan is most accommodating, but I cannot believe she would allow me to live in the house and sleep in the princess's chamber. And worse than that—" tears stood in his eyes "—I cannot see it or feel it. Even Elizabeth knew it was there. She—"
"The princess knew?" Denoriel breathed.
"She burst into loud wails the moment the maid cried out and pointed, and she began to laugh when it was gone." He was beginning to feel as weary as Denno looked. "Yes, and she constantly tries to touch my forehead. I am afraid she will disarrange my hair before the wrong person."
"You should not be holding her if a wrong person is in the chamber," Denoriel said, but absently, as if his mind were elsewhere, as indeed it was, because he added, "She is Talented, like her mother and her grandfather."
"But I am not!" FitzRoy exclaimed bitterly. "How can I protect her when I cannot see what I am to fight?"
Denoriel put his wine down on the polished table that stood against the wall and came forward to embrace FitzRoy. "It is hard for you, I know, but I promise you will be able to see anything you need to fight. This thing that came into the princess's chamber could do her no physical harm. It was most likely one of the minor creatures, which has no physical reality in the mortal world. I am sure it was sent only to spy, to carry back word of the defenses we maintain."
"But I think it was the mark on my forehead that sent it away," he protested, "and I cannot be with the child every hour of the day and night."
"I will obtain more amulets," Denno said firmly. "Blanche can invoke one each night. During the day, I think there is too much going on in Elizabeth's apartment to invite any secret attempt to steal the child."
However extra precautions were not necessary for long. In July Elizabeth became the sole heir to the throne again when Anne miscarried. Anne was devastated—and with good reason. The king did not take this loss well. He had accepted a daughter instead of a son because the child was strong and healthy and confirmed his belief in his virility.
That robust child, with her strong will and the voice to enforce it, with the fact that she had already survived two of the illnesses that often carried off weaker babes, ensured in the king's mind that the failures of Catherine's pregnancies were her fault. The fact that Anne conceived again so soon after Elizabeth's birth also soothed the terrible fears of inadequacy that had been aroused by the long periods between Catherine's conceptions and Catherine's inability to bear more than one child that lived.
Anne's miscarriage was a poisonous reminder of all those dead or too-early-born babies. Worse, it pointed the finger at him. That Catherine's children had not lived was as likely to be her fault as his, but when a second wife also dropped children too early . . .
Anne was not only grief-stricken but badly frightened. It took weeks for the soft-voiced Lady Alana to get through the queen's self-absorption and convince her that her safety lay in soothing the king, in convincing him it was no fault in his seed that brought the child too early, that she would conceive again . . . as soon as he was active in her bed. Henry was shaken, but Anne's magic did not fail completely. If he found it almost impossible to rouse himself to couple, he soon was finding pleasure in her company again.
Underhill, Vidal Dhu and Aurilia were again having discussions about when to move to seize Elizabeth. Although they had a plan for destroying Anne, they had been well pleased when she conceived so quickly and had done nothing at all to interfere. It was Elizabeth they wanted, not the queen of England. If Anne had a son who lived, the watch on the red-haired babe would be much reduced. It would be much easier to replace the child with a changeling. And when that changeling sickened and died, there would be some grief, but a living son would compensate.
Vidal Dhu, always impatient, felt they should take Elizabeth while Anne and the king were still grief-stricken. One more baby was dead and the king was wondering whether he would ever have a living child beside Mary—who was constantly sick and ailing. It would be no great surprise if the other baby died. No one would look for otherworld causes.
Except perhaps Oberon, Aurilia pointed out, and counseled patience. Anne would conceive again; she was so fertile that even the king's feeble seed could take hold. There was no great hurry. Elizabeth was not yet a year old, young enough to bend to their ways easily. Let Anne try again. If she was successful and bore a live and healthy boy, they could take Elizabeth as soon as the boy was well established. If this pregnancy failed, it would be very easy indeed to destroy Anne in such a way that Elizabeth would be totally cast off. No one would care whether she lived or died.
Reluctantly, because he did not enjoy waiting for something he wanted, and he wanted to start work on that child, but almost relieved, too, because he knew abducting Elizabeth was coming close to violating Oberon's orders, Vidal Dhu yielded to Aurilia's arguments. Later they quarreled over the agreement more than once, because it took almost a year before Anne conceived again. Elizabeth, with her strong will and quick mind, was getting beyond the stage when she would accept Caer Modrun as her natural home and the ways of the Unseleighe as the only right ways.
In that judgment, Vidal Dhu was correct. Elizabeth now walked and talked and knew her own min
d very well indeed. Beyond that, she often said and did things that left Lady Bryan, who had nursed Mary and not seen such precocity, amazed.
Elizabeth had called FitzRoy "da" with her very first word. Everyone had laughed heartily and FitzRoy explained that he was not her "da" but her brother. Elizabeth could not say brother; her little face drew together in her well-recognized scowl and she said "da" again . . . at the top of her voice.
From time to time FitzRoy tried other names for himself, Henry, Harry, Richmond. "Da," said Elizabeth, fixing him with eyes that had changed from a baby's unformed blue to honey-brown but could flash brilliant yellow, like a lioness's.
He was relieved to learn that Elizabeth also called King Henry "da" when he visited, and so long as she did, he put the matter out of his mind. However, when she was nearly two and very articulate, speaking in full sentences that were nearly adult so that she could easily have called him brother or Richmond, he set out to tease her by telling her once again that she was a big girl now and should give him his proper name, reserving "da" for her father.
"I know the king is my father," she said, her eyes dark and quiet, "but you, you will always be 'da.' "
CHAPTER 31
It did not seem as if Princess Elizabeth would have any need for a special "da" during the remainder of that year. Her second birthday was celebrated very happily, although her father and mother could not be present because they were together in Hampshire enjoying a particularly pleasant progress. It mattered little to Elizabeth who had around her all those to whom she was accustomed and held dear.
Lady Bryan who was sensitive to her charge's willful ways and was curbing them with gentle firmness had, as a reward for dutiful and unargumentative behavior over the previous week, invited a select party to celebrate with the household. Not only was FitzRoy (who would have come invited or not) summoned but Lord Denno and Lady Alana, too.
Lord Denno had become quite a favorite with Lady Bryan. She now knew his supposed background and understood his special relationship with the duke of Richmond. Considering his wealth and his discretion, she was willing to encourage his interest in Elizabeth, too.
Lady Alana was invited because Lady Bryan wanted her. She was the queen's lady who most frequently came with messages, gifts, and garments of all kinds, and she was not on duty during the summer progress. And, if Lady Bryan had information or a question she wanted addressed to the queen, Lady Alana was always successful in carrying the message.
Lady Bryan also liked Lady Alana for herself; she was particularly gentle and soft-spoken—but would stand no nonsense, as would the two besotted men, from a naughty two-year-old. Moreover Lady Alana was no court beauty; one could hardly remember her face from one visit to another. Her gowns, however, were utter perfection, not only in fabric and design but in suitability, and she was generous with her suggestions on how anyone else's gown could be improved.
Elizabeth's health remained good, and Lady Bryan should have been perfectly satisfied; however, in the autumn and beginning of winter there were incidents that alarmed her. Twice Elizabeth woke screaming from a dream of something horrible looming over her. The diaper-changer Blanche Parry had been kept on as general nursemaid because she had the queen's favor and Elizabeth was attached to her; she was the one who slept in Elizabeth's room and she woke and calmed the child.
Lady Bryan was sure it was nothing but a nightmare; still she had the room searched both times. There was nothing untoward in it. The guard suggested changing the position of the night candle, which might have cast a shadow where the child could see it. By the time that was done, Elizabeth was asleep again. But one afternoon she had another screaming fit and began to gag, holding her nose and weeping over the terrible, terrible odor.
Lady Bryan smelled nothing and was open-mouthed with surprise and fear that the child was sickening, but Blanche, who had been in the bedchamber, came running and shouted at Elizabeth to take out and hold up her cross. In a moment the child had calmed, saying the bad smell was gone.
Lady Bryan felt Elizabeth's head, asked nervously about her appetite, and then tried to forget the incident. However, she approved of Blanche's remedy. The cross was an excellent notion, she said; it was the right thing for Elizabeth to trust. In fact, she sent for the local priest and had him bless the cross.
She could have wished that Elizabeth had not chattered about her fright, but there was really no way to stop her. And, anyhow, she herself was not sorry that the tale brought FitzRoy to the house more often than ever.
But Lord Denno, came too, and that troubled her a little. FitzRoy was Elizabeth's brother and entitled to play with her and spoil her, but Lady Bryan was beginning to be concerned about Elizabeth's great affection for Lord Denno.
The child had wonderful times whenever Lord Denno visited. Her favorite game was playing pick-a-back—he was incredibly strong and would carry her about at considerable speed far longer than any other man. Another game made Lady Bryan so nervous that she had to put a stop to it. When Elizabeth rode Denno's shoulders, she would insist on clutching at the air over Denno's head. Lady Bryan was sure the child would be shaken loose and fall even though she insisted she was holding tight to Lord Denno's ears. That was ridiculous; there were no ears to be seen.
Another matter troubled Lady Bryan somewhat. She felt that neither man was as glad about Queen Anne's new pregnancy as he should have been. She could not help wondering if their passion for the princess would make them less loyal to a prince, should he be born.
Unfortunately the question was never to arise. The new year began with grief—at least for Lady Bryan. Catherine of Aragon died on the seventh of January. Having heard of how the king had celebrated in yellow garments of rejoicing and loud denunciations, Lady Bryan kept her few tears for private moments. She had learned to love Queen Catherine when she served as nurse to the Princess Mary.
The memory of Mary distracted Lady Bryan from grief for a moment. She smiled and sighed. Mary had been a sweet child. She sighed again and then laughed; Mary was nothing like the red-headed hellion she had to manage now. Mary had wanted to be good—and she had been, although it made her a little dull too—unlike Elizabeth who wanted first to be right, and then to have her way, and then to be good as a very poor third choice.
The sorrow over Queen Catherine had been private. But January continued with one disaster after another. On the evening of the twenty-fourth, a rider on a near-foundered horse came to give Lady Bryan the news that King Henry had had a terrible fall from a horse while jousting and lay unconscious, possibly near death.
Lady Bryan sat by Elizabeth's cradle herself all that night, swallowing and swallowing and wringing her hands. If the king died, by his decree and Parliament's vote, Elizabeth would be the next queen . . . if Mary's supporters did not begin a civil war or rush the indefensible house at Hatfield and kill the child.
By late morning the next day she was not alone. Richmond had arrived as soon as the news came to him. He was a skilled swordsman and he brought six more men armed and in armor. By the second night—after a somewhat less exhausted messenger arrived with the news that the king had regained consciousness but was still in great pain—Lord Denno arrived too.
How he could possibly have come so fast Lady Bryan did not know, but that was a thought that passed through her mind long after the event. At the time, she had been so glad to see him that she did not wonder. Later she was surprised also at the feeling of confidence he gave her. Then she was only glad that the constriction in her chest, the pounding of her heart in her throat was gone. She was so relieved, in fact, that she agreed to go to bed soon after he kissed her hand and assured her all would be well. She slept soundly, too.
"What now?" FitzRoy asked when Lady Bryan was gone, staring down at a sleeping Elizabeth and clenching and unclenching his hands.
"Now we wait," Denoriel said, flatly. He was at least as nervous as FitzRoy, but he had no intention of showing it.
"How long? Should I hire more men?
" FitzRoy looked a little wild-eyed. "We cannot remain on guard forever. I am willing, but I am mortal and must sleep."
Denoriel embraced FitzRoy's shoulders and gave him a rough hug. "No more men, they would be useless. Your guards and Dunstan and Ladbroke are all warded against spells, specially those of sleep. The new men would be defenseless."
"Shall I set watches so the men can take some rest?" he persisted.
"I think what will happen will happen soon . . . tonight, I expect." Denoriel had had plenty of time to think out his plans as he sped to Hatfield. "Those who want Elizabeth know that they have only a short time to act, this night and possibly tomorrow, but I doubt they will act by daylight."
FitzRoy blinked. "Why?"
"Think, Harry," Denoriel urged. "If the king should die, royal guards will be sent to protect the new queen, dozens of them, all in steel and armed with steel. Even if Henry lingers but is like to die, the guards will come. And once the king is recovered, if he is recovered, Oberon's order again protects the king's heir."
FitzRoy nodded. "Very well. First we rid ourselves of any servant not quartered in the house, then we lock and bar each door. The shutters are already all closed to keep out the cold."
Denoriel glanced down into the cradle and smiled despite his anxiety. "Elizabeth is asleep and covered with a warding spell. I hope it will keep out the sense of evil that frightens her."
"I hope so too." FitzRoy smiled. "Although she yells so loud that she might frighten them off." He sobered very quickly and continued, "I think I will order that Ladbroke, Dunstan, Nyle, and Shaylor stay by the princess. They are armored in steel and armed with it. They will have Blanche to guard against magic and call for help if needed. Gerrit and Dickson can patrol the house. You and I—" FitzRoy patted his sword hilt and touched the strange metal gun, which for once he wore openly on his belt "—will hold the front door."
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