Cicely's Sovereign Secret
Page 15
There had still not been any sign of Tal when Lord Welles escorted his lady to her apartments. Jon was required to return to Henry, and could not stay. Not that he would have done anyway, because he was angry with her for everything; too angry to embark upon a confrontation just yet. He had conducted a careful and very discreet search of the palace, even calling Tal a few times, when it was safe to do so, but there had not been any response. Maybe the fool had sobered, and removed himself from his own madness. But then again, maybe he had not. Jon made his feelings clear to Cicely, and also made it plain he would not spend the night with her. She felt wretched, because he had every right to feel that way. She was sometimes a great trial to him. And a very dangerous one.
She entered her rooms unhappily, for she hated to be at odds with Jon. Mary waited, but there was no sign of Jack, for which she did not know whether to be relieved or not. The very last thing needed now was Jon to change his mind, and come back to find her with the lover who was not only believed to be dead, but was second to Richard in her heart.
Mary explained that Jack had slipped away to Master Pasmer’s lodgings, where he intended to sleep in the secret place behind the fire. Cicely knew it was for the best, but being with him again, even for so short a time and under such extenuating circumstances, had left her more in love with him than ever. Plague upon Tal for endangering not only his own hide, but Jack’s as well, to say nothing of Master Pasmer, who clearly had no hand in anything, but had been drawn into it, just as she and Jon had.
Jon did not return to her, and she lay alone in the bed, worrying. But it was warm, lying there in the firelit room, and in spite of everything, she fell asleep.
A disturbing dream awoke her later that night. The dream fled as she opened her eyes, but its influence remained. Her heart was beating swiftly, her mouth was dry, and there was perspiration on her forehead. She sat up, pushing her hair back from her face. For a moment she could not think where she was, but then remembered. Esher.
Her mind cleared as she realized there was shouting in the courtyard. What was happening? She slipped from the bed and pulled on her robe to look down from the window. An alarm had been raised, and torches flickered and bobbed as guards ran in all directions. Henry’s apartments were bright with lights. The gatehouse entrance was being barred and strongly defended on the inside, and more guards were making for the chapel, as well as the lodgings, which were clearly being thoroughly searched. Tal? Or perhaps Jack! Oh, please God, not Jack!
Her heart began to thunder. ‘Mary?’
The maid was already awake and hurried to her. ‘My lady? What is it?’
‘I do not know, but something serious seems to have happened. I fear what it may be.’
Filled with trepidation, she hurried to the door to the passage, with Mary right at her heels. Her apartment was on its own in this part of the first floor, and there did not seem to be anyone occupying the few others. Men’s urgent voices carried up the staircase. Whoever they were, they held torches that sent smoke and monstrous shadows twisting in the stairwell. It was a trick of these moving shadows that allowed Cicely to glimpse someone draw swiftly into a deep window embrasure. A glimpse, maybe, but enough to tell her it could well be either Jack or Tal.
She looked at Mary and put a finger to her lips, before moving towards the embrasure.
‘Jack? Tal?’ she ventured softly, knowing the risk she took if it was not either of them, but some other, more dangerous fugitive.
‘Sweetheart?’ Jack emerged, with Tal, clearly in pain, leaning heavily on his arm.
‘Dear God, why come here, to me, when there is a danger that Jon—’ She broke off, trying to regain her equilibrium. ‘Why not go to Master Pasmer’s and be in true hiding?’ she asked then.
‘I would rather answer you in your rooms,’ Jack said, glancing back as more voices were heard below, including Jon’s.
She went to the top of the staircase. ‘Jon?’ she called. ‘What is happening?’
He came halfway up the steps. His hair was tousled and he had dressed in a hurry. ‘Are you all right? I was just about to come up to you. Have you heard anyone up there?’
‘All I have heard is the general alarm out in the courtyard. What is going on?’
‘Please go back to your bed and bolt your door.’ He was able to hold her gaze in the flickering light, and his resentment was very clearly conveyed indeed. It was only too possible that she was hiding someone—Tal alone, he believed—and he knew the imminent danger that might descend upon her. And him.
He descended the steps again, and she heard him reassure his companions. ‘It is clear up there. Whoever it is we seek, he is not here.’
Cicely heard them leave, and then the door was locked on the outside and the key taken out. Maybe it was safe inside, but short of breaking and climbing out of a winter-sealed window, they could not leave, either. She stood there for a moment. How was she going to make amends to Jon after this? She had let him down in ways of which he knew … and in others of which he did not. Yet.
Turning, she went back to Jack and Tal, and tried to sound brave. ‘No one will come up here to search now,’ she whispered. ‘Come, I will try to hide you both.
She put her arm around Tal’s waist, to be of what assistance she could to Jack, but Tal was a big man and now almost a dead weight. Between them, they managed to get him to safety, and bolted the door firmly. Candles were lit, and Mary was already setting out her casket in her room. When they removed Tal’s cloak, they saw a bloodstained slash across the chest of his rich lavender satin doublet, which he wore with wine-red hose. Such garments were so very different from his usual plain taste that Cicely was quite taken aback.
But, as Jack had said, Tal was different in all ways, from his dark hair and bristleless chin, to bright clothes that could have been favoured by a much younger man. He could carry off such garments because his body was still firm and muscular. His abdomen was flat and taut, and with his height and good-looking, rather noble features, he was a very attractive man, Cicely thought, imagining he must take after his mother, because everyone knew that his father, the first Earl of Shrewsbury—known as Old Talbot—had been a very dark-haired, dark-eyed man.
Tonight, someone had got close enough to him with a blade to deal him a gash to the chest, as was revealed as Jack undressed him carefully to the waist. Blood oozed as he was made to lie on Mary’s bed, so that she could set to work. The maid declined assistance, so Jack and Cicely left her to proceed as she chose.
Jack was contrite. ‘Forgive me for bringing him here, my love, but I did not know what else to do. The courtyard is crawling with Henry’s men, and we were almost caught. There was no opportunity to get to Pasmer.’
‘What has happened? Has he … killed Henry?’
‘No, truth to tell, Henry seems to have come closer to killing him. Tal is a damned fool, with his obsessive family conscience. Oh, I do not blame him for wanting revenge, but I do blame him when that desire leads him to take idiotic chances. If he should be caught—if any of us should be caught—Henry’s methods will soon extract vital information.’
She looked at him. ‘So, you do not think that lying in wait at Knole was an “idiot chance”?’ she enquired lightly.
Jack smiled reluctantly. ‘Ah, there you have me.’
‘I have been so worried about you tonight. And about Tal, but especially you.’
He took her hand and pulled her close to kiss her, and then rested his cheek against her tousled hair.
‘I had to seek help to save Tal from himself. I was close enough to hear Henry screaming for his guards, and then Tal’s fleeing footsteps. I grabbed him as he passed, and managed to get him down a back staircase and then outside, where there was already mayhem. How I supported him past the great hall, from buttress to arch to buttress again, without being seen, I do not know.’
‘But he actually got close enough to Henry to—’
‘Yes, but Henry is that replete cat, always with an ear
open and, apparently, a dagger beneath his pillow. Some-thing alerted him and he leapt up, slashed wildly at Tal, and then ran, stark naked, calling for guards. Tal escaped, and I got to him.’
She went to pour some wine, and pressed a cup into his hand. ‘When I eavesdropped upon Tal and Henry, Tal’s unhappy marriage was mentioned. Is it that unhappy?’
‘Yes. I did not know a great deal, until he decided to tell me the night before last. I only knew that at one time he and Jane were happy together. She is a Champernoune, an old West Country family. He took the lease of Kingston l’Isle in Berkshire, from his de l’Isle niece and her husband, and all seemed well, but then Jane changed.’
He related what he knew, and Cicely was shocked by the thought of paganism. ‘There is such a thing at Kingston?’
‘I believe there are groups everywhere, Cicely. The one at Kingston follows Woden in particular, and Jane became influenced by its leader, who takes care to be anonymous. Tal has his suspicions about him, but did not divulge a name.’
‘Why not?’ she asked.
Jack shrugged. ‘I have no idea. I asked him direct, but he would not say. Anyway, when he realized what was happening to Jane, he intervened, but it was not until later that he learned she had in her possession a Saxon chalice of great importance that had been kept openly at Kingston church as a Christian relic. Christian it is not. She had taken it secretly, together with a white dagger that was also used in diabolical rites up at Wayland Smith. Tal hid them. Now Jane is under the influence of his very Christian sister, the Duchess Elizabeth, at Kenninghall, and is restored to the Church. But she behaves as if Tal is the Devil incarnate.’
‘Poor Tal.’
‘Well, he no longer loves her. He mentioned a married lady to whom he became utterly devoted. It was entirely one-sided. He was over twenty years her senior, and says he should have known better.’
‘He has mentioned her to me. She loved her husband, I think.’
‘In a manner of speaking. It was her first husband she really loved, not so much the one she was with when Tal met her. She has passed away now.’ Jack avoided her eyes.
Cicely gazed at him, beginning to have an inkling of the lady’s identity. The woman had loved her first husband more than her second? The woman who was dead now? How very familiar that sounded. Might it be Richard’s queen, Anne Neville?
‘You no doubt think the same as me, sweetheart, but Tal did not identify her to me either, and leaping to conclusions would not be helpful. Nothing came of it. The inappropriate emotion was solely his.’
There was a sudden knock at the outer door. Jack returned to Mary’s room, and Cicely discovered one of Henry’s pages waiting. ‘His Majesty requires Viscountess Welles’s presence immediately.’
Her fear rose sharply, but she did not let the boy see. ‘Please inform His Majesty that she will attend as swiftly as possible.’
He hurried away, and soon Mary had brought a dove-grey gown, and within minutes Cicely’s hair had been dressed beneath a headdress and she was ready to face Henry. Well, as ready as she was able, under the circumstances.
Jack smiled to see her looking so lovely. ‘I wish you were not taking your beauty to Tudor, sweetheart. I am a much more deserving cause.’
‘You are indeed.’
‘Henry probably needs you. That is all. He cannot possibly know Tal and I are here, or we would have been arrested long since.’
‘I know you are right, but with Henry … well, you understand, I think.’
He came to embrace her. ‘You will be safe enough, my darling, because he has sent for you. That is not the act of an angry, betrayed man. If he suspected you, he would have you arrested.’
The door opened without ceremony, and they leapt apart as if stung. It was Jon, and he knew they had been in an embrace, but at first he was too amazed and shaken to see Jack. He closed the door quietly, and shoved the bolt across pointedly.
Cicely closed her eyes. She had forgotten when the page left.
‘So, yet again you are in the realm of the living after all, Jack,’ Jon said, ‘and sniffing around my wife again.’ He turned upon Cicely as she protested. ‘Do not try to make even more of a fool of me than you already have. Tal is here as well, I suppose? Fortunately, Henry did not recognize him.’
‘Yes, he is here,’ Jack confirmed, ‘but do not blame Cicely, please. I put her in a dangerous position. She helps us. That is all.’
Jon met his eyes. ‘Of course. How ridiculous of me to think you and she could be more to each other than cousins. You were not embracing when I came in.’
Cicely closed her eyes in shame.
Jack was angered. ‘She wanted to tell you, but I forbade her, in the belief it would burden you with more to keep from Henry. You should blame me, not her.’
Tal appeared in the doorway to Mary’s room, leaning weakly against the jamb. ‘Ultimately, it is all my fault. I drank myself into rage and came here with the sole purpose of killing Henry.’
‘And bungled it abysmally,’ Jon said coldly. ‘You never learn, do you, Tal? You are sensible and level, and then one day you sink into lunacy. And almost always on this particular day. Oh, yes, I remember the date.’
Tal did not answer.
Cicely was anxious. ‘Jon, does Henry think I know something of all this?’
‘If he did, he would be right, would he not? But I think he trusts you. As I did. More fool us both.’
‘Please do not say such things, Jon. Please.’
‘You have gone a little too far, madam. I have always been deemed a fool and a gull to love my wife, and now it seems I really am. Well, no more.’
Jack was appalled. ‘For pity’s sake, Jon, this is neither the time, nor the place … nor does your lady deserve your censure.’
‘No? Can you meet my eyes and say you and she are not in love?’
Cicely spared Jack. ‘I do love Jack, Jon, you know that, but if you think it diminishes my love for you—’
‘Enough! I do not want to hear any more of this false mewling. My eyes have been fully opened, Cicely, and they will stay so. An attempt has been made to murder Henry in his bed, a Yorkist plot, in which you, my dear lady, are involved to your slender little neck.’ He held up a hand as both Jack and Tal protested. ‘Be quiet, both of you. I think you need my help to get out of here intact, so please have the courtesy to let me express my opinion.’
Tal straightened. ‘If you imagine you are free of any blame in any way, Jon Welles, you are mistaken. You had a hand in what happened in 1483, and if you think I am about to stand by and allow you to—’
Jon’s eyes narrowed. ‘So, you will hold that knife to my throat?’
‘If I have to,’ Tal replied quietly.
Cicely looked from one to the other. 1483? When Richard became king? She glanced at Jack, but it was plain he did not know what they referred to.
Jon turned to her. ‘Your royal lover awaits, my lady. Perhaps Tal has enjoyed your favours as well? Who knows? Or cares?’
She looked at him through tears. ‘Please, Jon,’ she whispered.
‘Get to the king. I need to talk with your Yorkist stallions. And you, Mary Kymbe, can get yourself to the servants’ hall, and stay there.’ He raised his voice for the maid to hear in her room.
Jack assisted both women into their cloaks, and Jon did not even look at Cicely as she left. From somewhere she found the spirit not to glance back, or allow her tears to fall. She knew the depth of his bitterness, and felt as if a sword had sliced the air between them.
She paused partway along the passage, and put a warning finger to her lips. ‘Mary, I want you to hide where the men did earlier. My husband will of a certainty check in a moment to see no one is listening. I will go straight to the king now, but you are to eavesdrop if you possibly can. You may hear something. I need to know what is said.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘I will take the blame should you be caught.’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘Well, what a fucking pain in the balls you two are.’
The maid slipped from hiding to press her ear to the door, and began to listen to the ensuing conversation.
Chapter Fourteen
When Henry was told Cicely had come, he dismissed the many attendants and guards who clustered around him. His apartments were chaotic, with everyone talking at once and speculation running rife as to who would have had the audacity to try to kill the king when he was so well protected.
The silence when everyone had gone was very welcome, and Henry came to the doorway of the room where she waited.
The fact that the night’s events had shaken him was evident. His long hair had not been combed, his movements were swift and nervous, and his crimson robe drained his face, which had been pale enough earlier. The shadows beneath his eyes seemed almost black and he had an air of … something, she still could not say, except to know that his dishevelled appearance and manner were not solely due to the attempt on his life.
‘Cariad?’
The word was uttered softly, and with such relief just to see her again, that she could only go to hold him close, although whether to shut out the guilt or hold in the pain, she did not know.
He hid his face in her hair. ‘R’wyn dy angen di,’ he breathed, and then in English, ‘I need you.’ He not only returned her embrace, he drew upon it. For strength. Tonight he made no secret of his utter dependence. His loneliness took physical form, as once had Richard’s. Two kings had needed her like this, and she had held them both. And now she had held Jack again, because he too was in need of her comfort and strength. Three strong, powerful men, all of them reliant upon her … and, maybe, she was reliant upon them.
At last he spoke, but only in a whisper. ‘I know that I wrong my uncle, and maybe embarrass you, but if I do not have you close now …’
‘Oh, Henry, forget whatever you think you cannot, because of course you can. You are the king.’