by April White
The braid I’d worn since my shower at home made my hair wavy. “Shouldn’t I be wearing something on my head?”
“Unmarried women may go bare-headed, and a coif is worn out of respect. I hardly think Milady would be feeling respectful on this day.”
When my hair was loose and brushed out I turned to face Courtney. She looked me over with a critical eye. “From a distance, just as with the garden, you have the right height and hair color. If you remain hooded until the end, none will notice.”
“Thank you for this. It’s actually a lovely dress. I’m a little afraid to get it dirty.”
Courtney gave me a straight-in-the-eye look. “If she wore it today, it would not be dirt stains marring the fabric. Thank you, Milady.”
She’d never called me that before, and I was conscious of the compliment.
I hadn’t told anyone else what Courtney was doing because I was afraid they’d try to stop me. At least Ringo would, and maybe even Elizabeth. But I didn’t see any way around it. Elizabeth couldn’t go out onto that green. She couldn’t put herself anywhere near the blade of that sword if we wanted to ensure the timeline, and her neck, stayed intact. There were still a million things that could go wrong and we had probably only accounted for about five of them. But if I had anything to say about it, Elizabeth Tudor’s head would not leave her shoulders today.
Mine might, but the way I’d managed to avoid thinking about that, they’d have a tough time finding where I’d buried it in the sand.
The missing piece of my outfit was a cloak. I asked Courtney to bring me Elizabeth’s finest one. It’s the thing the spectators and guards would see, and for some people, would be the only way to identify me, since most people had probably never seen their princess in person.
When I returned to Ringo’s rooms the Lady Elizabeth had a body double, and I was it. Pancho was lining up flasks of gunpowder on the table, and Elizabeth was coiling waxed twine into manageable piles by the window. When Ringo walked in with two bottles of white phosphorus I was worried he’d drop them. The look on his face told me he knew exactly what I was doing – and he didn’t like it one bit.
“Ye’re not goin’ out there.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’ve been spending too much time with Archer.”
“Maybe so. And I don’t want to have to answer the question ‘e’d ask.”
I could have gotten mad. I was inclined to. But I knew he was right. If I was going to put him in an impossible situation with Archer, he needed to be able to defend himself. Elizabeth looked ready to launch herself into the discussion too, so I included all of them in my gaze. “I’m taking Elizabeth’s place on the block because I’m the only one who can. Courtney would, but no one would believe her height, and all her other ladies are too small. I know you hate the idea, but that’s why you’re my insurance.” I turned to Elizabeth and spoke directly to her. “Believe me, if I thought there was any other way to keep the time line intact, I would do it. But you can’t die on the scaffold today. And when Wilder realizes he’s been denied your blood, he’s going to come after you himself. You’re going to have to hide someplace where he can’t find you.”
“I will not have you fight in my stead.” Her best imperious voice was on, but it was no match for mine since I’d put on her clothes.
“You will. And there’s something you should see anyway, since you’re going to be queen.”
Ringo finally nodded his agreement. “Right. That’s the first good plan I’ve heard since I walked in. And it’s time I take these to the gentlemen who’ll be ‘elpin’. Pancho, ye comin’? We’re off to see yer brother and give ‘im ‘is chance for a bit o’ payback.”
Elizabeth pulled a letter out of her skirt pocket and handed it to Ringo. “Would you see Robin gets this, please? And tell him …” The worried look was back, and Ringo’s expression softened.
“Ye’ll tell ‘im yerself, Milady. ‘E’s only droppin’ flashbangs and won’t be in the fray. And neither will ye be. When this is all over there’ll be time to tell ‘im anythin’ ye like.”
He bowed to her, tucked the glowing yellow glass bottles under his arms, and headed for the door.
“Be careful with those, Ringo. I need all your fingers intact if you’re going to hold that sword.”
The Sword
It was late when Ringo and Pancho returned. Pancho’s eyes were red from crying, but we all pretended not to notice. Ringo bowed over Elizabeth’s hand and kissed the back of it carefully. “From his lordship, Milady. He bids you strength and grace in the face of yer enemies, and stands with ye against all who seek harm.”
He smiled a little wickedly. “And I can’t give ye the other thing Dudley sent, ‘cause then ‘e’d ‘ave to hunt me down and kill me.”
Elizabeth laughed a soft and lovely laugh I’d never heard before. It transformed her face from striking and interesting to delicate and beautiful. No wonder she was able to navigate her early reign so effectively. Men would probably fall all over themselves to get a laugh like that from her.
It definitely went into the ‘note to self’ category as I figured out who I was going to grow up to be.
I gave Ringo a searching look. “Packages delivered?”
“And received with great enthusiasm by both parties.”
“Wyatt and Dudley know their signal to drop the phosphorus?”
Pancho’s voice broke the first time he tried to use it, so he tried again. “I shall set off an explosion under the Beauchamp tower that they can see, so they do not confuse the cannon fire for the signal.”
“And then get the hell out of the way.”
Pancho looked at me. “Yes, ma’am. No one will be the wiser.”
“Good.” I looked back at Ringo. “We should take Elizabeth downstairs now. It’s almost time.” Ringo and I had told Elizabeth about the crypt under St. John’s Chapel, but we wanted to surprise her with the crown.
Ringo went into the hall to speak to the old Yeoman Warder. He was back a few moments later. “Yeoman Warder William has assured me that Milady’s rooms are always very quiet, so any lack of noise ‘ere will go unnoticed by ‘im.”
I stared at him. “How do you do that?”
Ringo grinned. “I met William when I arrived at the Tower. ‘E told me I should bow to Milady in this direction if I was so inclined.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Then I should do well to remember William when I am queen.”
“’E’d appreciate it, Milady.”
I indicated the door to the interconnected rooms. “Lady Elizabeth?”
Courtney marched forward. “I’m coming too.”
“I’m going to set a ward. You’ll feel the cold.”
She pulled a fur off Ringo’s bed and draped it around her shoulders, leveling a fierce gaze on me. “I’ll not be leaving my Lady alone.”
Clearly.
We were not a particularly stealthy group as we made our way down to the tunnel entrance. Pancho had taken a fuse and the book of matches, which I’d shown him how to light. He went out to hide himself under Beauchamp tower, but the rest of us traveled to the sub-crypt of St. John’s chapel. I had left a long note for Archer outlining the steps of the plan and explaining what he and Tom should do when he woke. I signed it, ‘I love you, -S’, but I hoped he would be able to feel what was underneath the words.
The way to the sub-crypt was deserted, and Elizabeth was surprised to learn such a chamber existed under the White Tower.
“This is the part we wanted you to see, though.” Ringo dug the brick patch out of the wall and pulled the carved wooden case out of its hideaway. Elizabeth’s hands shook as she held the crown in her hands. It was a simple circle with four gold arches meeting in the middle where a hammered cross rose up to top it. A few roughly cut gemstones were embedded in the metal, but it wasn’t quite the elaborate beauty I remembered from paintings.
“That this lies here gives truth to the turmoil of my country. There are those who mistrust my sister
not to give it away to Spain, and so they have hidden it away.”
“Don’t let them hide this crown from you.” I knew I was preaching to the choir the way Elizabeth’s eyes flashed.
“It is a symbol of England’s trust in its monarch. If I survive this night, I shall endeavor to be worthy of its proud display.”
“I’ve seen your coronation portrait, remember? You may want to add a few more jewels though. And maybe some pearls.” I kept my tone light on purpose.
Elizabeth smiled. “I love pearls.”
“I know. And someday, when you buy your cousin’s six-strand black pearls, you should probably hide them somewhere. Because in 1661 the crown jewels get broken up and melted down.”
Elizabeth gasped in horror. “They dare!”
I grinned. “You’re going to be a great queen.”
Suddenly, above us came the sound of cannon fire. Ringo and I looked at each other in a panic. “They’re early!”
Elizabeth’s expression had turned to fear. “They fire cannons for executions too. They have signaled it is time.”
“But it’s not time yet!” My voice was tinged with hysteria and Elizabeth took my hands in hers.
“Saira, I owe you my life and the future of my people. My words are not nearly big or meaningful enough to convey the depth of my gratitude.” She leaned in to kiss my cheek. “Thank you.”
I took a deep breath. “Just make it worth it.” The look on her face told me she would. “Okay, Ringo, I’ll meet you in the tunnel.” I turned to Elizabeth. “I’ve never warded a room before, but I know it can be done. So, I’m going to try for something I can leave behind to keep you both safe from anyone who wants to hurt you. But if you see Wilder or Lurch, you have to run. Or if you can’t run, hide. Clear?”
They both nodded and Ringo stepped out of the room. I pulled a ward up and consciously pushed it out past the barriers of my skin. I kept pushing as I concentrated on filling the room with the magical barricade. I was shivering when I’d finished, and Courtney looked a little scared of me. “You feel that, right?” My eyes were on her and she nodded. “Okay. Wow.” I was exhausted and more than a little shaken. But I didn’t have time to be anything other than strong, so I found Elizabeth’s eyes and felt her determination give me back a little strength.
She smiled at me. “You are the strongest person I know.”
That, coming from Elizabeth Tudor, was the best compliment I could imagine.
William was still outside the queen’s apartments, but had his back to the corridor as we slipped in through the connecting room. Ringo quickly helped me with the deep hood of my cloak, and I sat by the window with Elizabeth’s other ladies arrayed around me. I hadn’t bothered to learn their names since they all seemed afraid of us, but now I was relying on them for my life. If any one of them revealed I wasn’t Elizabeth … I couldn’t even think about it.
Ringo kneeled in front of me and looked in, past the hood, to the grim expression on my face. “The plan is a good one.”
I ticked off my fingers. “We’re going to use explosives we haven’t tested. We’re relying on prisoners, a maid, and a kid to create diversions. And that’s not even counting the executioner you’re going to try to take down. Seriously? What’s the worst that could happen?”
Ringo smirked at me. “From what you’ve told me, it’s a game you play often.”
Panic and laughter battled for dominance. Uncharacteristically, panic won. “But even if everything goes perfectly, what then? We don’t have a plan for after.” I whispered so the ladies couldn’t hear, but the desperation still carried in my words.
“We don’t need one. We’ll have Archer then.”
He had total confidence in a man he’d only known a few months. I felt like the Grinch whose heart grew three sizes with the love I felt for both guys.
He lifted my hand quickly and kissed the back of it before striding from the room. I picked up Elizabeth’s prayer book from a table where she’d left it and absently flipped through the pages, just to stop my heart from choking me. There were notes in the margins, in Elizabeth’s tight handwriting, and I turned back to the cover to examine it more closely. It was bound in red tapestry and had red fabric ties to hold it closed. Inside, the inscription was to Elizabeth from Katherine Parr, and I realized I held a book in my hands that would one day belong to my mother.
“May I borrow a bowl?” I asked the lady sitting closest to me, a pretty brunette whose name I thought was Hannah.
“Of course, Milady.” She brought me a small painted dish and sat near me pretending to sew like the other ladies.
I pulled the cloth roll out of my dress and unwrapped it, then dug out the Murano glass pen and paints I’d swiped from Doran’s studio. Dumping a little cobalt and a little gold paint into the dish, I used the pen like a very fine paintbrush on the inside of the back cover. I was conscious of the time and figured the guards would be coming for me any minute, but I still lost myself in the swirls and spirals of the design. When it was finished, Hannah leaned over to look more closely.
“The ‘E’ is beautifully wrought and Milady will think it very fine indeed. But what of the ‘C’? What meaning does that have?”
“A personal one. I don’t think Lady Elizabeth will mind.” I wiped the paint from the glass tip of the pen. The sound of men’s voices carried from the hall and suddenly the quiet tension in the room had shifted to agitation. I tucked a candle stub in my pocket and then quickly hid the cloth roll back in my dress. I had removed the antibiotics, which I left with the prayer book under Hannah’s sewing. “Make sure Milady gets this. There are medicines in the brown bottle that will help fight illness.”
I tugged the hood of the cloak further down, pulled some hair over my shoulder so it showed down the front of the cloak, and counted on expectation to mask me. The door swung open and three men entered the room. William was first, looking dignified and solid, followed by Lurch. He wasn’t looking too hot, and I wondered idly how much cyanide it would take to kill a demon. But the third man walked in and the dead-rat stench of Lurch was overpowered by waves of ick rolling off Wilder.
I clasped my hands in front of me to hide their trembling, and kept my head bowed as if I was praying. I might have been. Praying. Throwing a general shout out to whatever gods might be listening. I couldn’t hear the words though, because tsunamis of nausea pounded on the rocks of my courage.
“Lady Elizabeth. Despite the efforts of the criminals you call friends, I have with me a warrant for your execution. You will come with me now and meet your fate.”
He held his hand out to help me up but I ignored it, afraid that if he touched any part of me he’d know the truth. I said nothing, and Elizabeth’s ladies parted around me. But when I passed Wilder he leaned in and whispered into my ear, “And when your body lies dead, I shall make my own fate by stealing yours from your blood.”
I shuddered violently and nearly vomited. He must have sensed it because he stepped back from me and took up the forward position as our little group left the queen’s apartment.
The visions I’d seen through Elizabeth’s and Archer’s eyes and the reality of the moment had blended in a way to make the edges too sharp and the colors too bright. It was like looking at a 3D screen without the glasses, and the shaking in my hands was getting worse. Wilder stepped away to the side before we got out to the green, and I sensed that his whole focus was now on the wait for my headless body. Well, too bad. He couldn’t have it.
The people lining the walk to the scaffold were all Tower folk – men and women I’d seen working and living in the Tower complex. It wasn’t a public execution; that would have been done on Tower Hill, but it was public enough. The people were mostly quiet, with some murmurings as William and Lurch escorted “the princess,” which I heard muttered, to the scaffold. This wasn’t a popular execution, and I knew Mary wasn’t a popular queen.
My face was hidden in the hood of my cloak, but the waves of long gold hair just visibl
e down the front, and the fine cloak and dress were enough to show the people what they expected to see: Elizabeth Tudor walking to her death. It was dusk, but the overcast sky that had made Wilder’s rise possible would hopefully also give Archer a head start on the night. I wondered though, since everything seemed earlier than it had happened the first time. We finally reached the scaffold after what felt like a thousand steps. The executioner was a small man, and I didn’t recognize the eyes glittering at me from beneath his hood. I hoped Ringo was here, because this man looked like a professional who wouldn’t hesitate to complete the downward swing once his sword had been raised above my neck.
I climbed the steps to the scaffold on shaky legs, and Lurch pushed me to my knees in front of the block. I resisted the urge to punch him, but only because malice rolled off him in waves. It was a relief when he stepped back from me.
The executioner readied his stance and I bowed my head. A priest in a long robe stepped onto the scaffold with a prayer book in his hands. He began reciting something in Latin and I smiled for the first time. My Shakespeare-reading, bible-knowing, video-gaming friend had learned some Latin, too.
Ringo finished his recitation and stepped back to the edge of the scaffold. From the corner of my eye I saw him kick something off the side and suddenly there was a flash of light.
BOOM!
People screamed. Yeoman Warders poured out of the Lord Lieutenant’s Lodgings, and five of them went down on the rabbit-snare trip wire. The executioner ripped back the hood of my cloak just as Ringo pushed him off the scaffold and dove after him.
BOOM!
Another explosion ripped through the courtyard, and the crowd swarmed like cockroaches scurrying away from the light and noise. More Yeoman Warders emerged, stepping over their struggling comrades. I pulled my candle end from under the cloak and began drawing on the scaffold floor.