Court of Conspiracy

by April Taylor

  He stood before the table and bowed to Norfolk, who ignored him, continuing to study some parchments. Luke waited with his hands in front of him, looking at the floor. Joss edged closer to him and he could feel the warmth of her against his leg. He looked down into her eyes. The message he saw there cleared his mind of everything except the need to concentrate on what his interrogator asked. He must make sure that his brain was free from all other considerations save ensuring that he answered only as much as was needed without embroidery. Finally Norfolk looked up.

  “Why were you at the kitchens today?”

  “I wanted to see John Corbet, my lord. He works there.”

  “You almost disrupted the entire apparatus for the hall’s main meal.”

  “I crave pardon, my lord. I had no such intention.”

  “Why did you want to see Corbet?”

  This was where Luke needed to phrase his answer with care so that it was true without putting John or his mother in danger. “I had just been speaking to his mother, my lord. She told what sounded like a wild tale about the death of Goodwife Pitt.”

  “Pitt?”

  “Aye, my lord, the traitor who was hanged two weeks ago.”

  Norfolk turned to Sir Nigel. “Pitt?”

  “Aye, my lord. The blackguard who put the thorns under the King’s saddle.”

  Norfolk turned back to Luke. “And what was your business asking after this traitor’s mother?”

  “She had been in great distress of mind, my lord. I thought she might need a calming infusion.”

  “And where does the kitchen boy come into this?”

  “His mother told me that Goodwife Pitt had died in the church, my lord. Her tale sounded strange and I thought her wits also must be in some disorder, so I wanted to ask John Corbet what had actually happened.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I felt sorry for the woman, my lord.”

  “You felt sorry for the mother of a traitor?”

  “His mother was not a traitor, and who of us can choose our families or what actions our relatives take?” Luke knew from Norfolk’s face that his last sentence had touched a nerve and wondered for one panic-stricken moment if he had gone too far. More than one of Norfolk’s relations had seen the inside of the Tower in the previous reign.

  “But if you knew she was dead, why did you need to investigate further?”

  Luke could feel Joss’s nose nudging his leg. He moderated his tone, trying to sound embarrassed. “Curiosity, my lord. There was talk that Goodwife Pitt had a strange expression on her face. I am as human as the next man. I thought mayhap she had had a holy vision before she was taken up.”

  Norfolk sighed. “And how would you know if she had? Really, Master Ballard. The woman died from a seizure, doubtless brought on by the knowledge that she had spawned a traitor. That is all you need to know.”

  Luke bowed. “As your lordship pleases.”

  “And while we are on the subject, Sir Nigel tells me that you have leave to come and go within the palace.”

  “That is so, my lord. It was given me by his late majesty.”

  Norfolk stared at him but even he did not dare to question any action of Henry VIII. “Very well, but do not seek to take trade away from the court apothecaries. Sir Nigel has told me of your presumption with regard to one of the sewing women. Be warned.”

  “I had no such intention, my lord. I have known Mistress Paige for some time and helped her before. I am familiar with her humor, so neither of us thought it improper when she asked for my help.”

  “She has been spoken to. You may go.”

  Luke bowed again and turned. As he opened the door and Joss slipped out, Norfolk’s voice stayed him.

  “Just because His Majesty asked for your help with a minor injury, do not get ideas above your station, Master Apothecary. Unless you have business within the palace confines, keep out and do not let that long nose of yours butt into things that do not concern you.”

  “Aye, my lord,” Luke bowed again and shut the door quietly behind him. He hurried back to the shop.

  Pippa, looking very flustered, almost hugged him. “Thank God. I thought you were taken.”

  “I could do with some wine. Do not fret. I am safe. Get on with your duties.”

  As soon as Pippa had returned to the kitchen, Luke mopped sweat from his brow and, taking a cloth soaked in wine from his goblet, he dabbed the oil residue from Joss’s fur. No need to let the girl know everything. He swung round as the shop door opened behind him. Roland Dufay stood in the doorway.

  “I understood you had been taken for questioning.”

  “Aye,” Luke replied.

  “For what?”

  “For asking after a poor dead woman who had been in great distress of mind and who I was trying to help,” Luke said, his temper beginning to slip after the strain of Norfolk’s interrogation. He wondered, not for the first time, how bad news traveled like wildfire. Now that Norfolk was aware of him he must take great pains to be careful and the last thing he needed was for the head of his guild to begin hostile questioning. Luke kicked one of the support legs of the counter, out of sight of the Elemagus.

  “No need to be like that, Master Ballard. I merely asked.”

  “I know, sir, but I seem to be beset on all sides at the moment. Who told you?”

  “These things get around. Now, to business. Have you done anything more about your housekeeper’s talent?”

  “I have not had time.”

  Dufay sprang to his feet. “In situations like this, time is of the essence—you know that. I think the girl had better come to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She had better come to me for instruction.”

  “Would it not be safer for me to conduct tests before you reveal yourself, Master Dufay?”

  The man’s eyes flickered and something Luke could not read fluttered across them. “Aye, you are right. What is her element of affinity?”

  “Water.”

  “That is good. Tonight you must perform the initiation ceremony. If all goes well, send word tomorrow. But I repeat that it would be better if she came to me. You can get another housekeeper. If you have come to the attention of the Duke of Norfolk, it will be safer to have her out of your house.”

  “Sir, why do you want Pippa to come and work for you?” The question he really longed to ask was what did Dufay know about Pippa that Luke did not.

  Dufay looked round the shop, his eyes missing nothing. For the first time, Luke was aware that perhaps it did look a good deal more shabby than it ought, but then, the poor needed healing and medicine, not fine furniture and surroundings. Did Dufay know that Pippa came from a wealthy family? Was that it?

  “For the reason I have given,” Dufay said. “It is better this way. Please do as I instruct. Implement the initiation tonight and send word tomorrow. I will make the necessary arrangements.”

  “I must warn you, Master Dufay, that she has a sharp temper and an even sharper tongue. I have no issue with her becoming your housekeeper, but perhaps it should be something she is allowed to decide for herself.”

  “Do you have a fancy for this girl?”

  “No, sir, but I am mindful that if I did not warn you, I would be in error.”

  “Very well. Talk to her.”

  Dufay turned and marched out of the shop without a backward glance. Pippa came in so quickly after the Elemagus left that Luke was certain she had been listening.

  “Was it that man back again?”

  “You know that it was.”

  “Aye, but I couldn’t hear what he said.”

  “Never mind—you go back to the kitchen. I will come through in a moment.”

  Luke automatically began to tidy up the shards of broken
glass and clean down his counter, his mind ranging over the problems he faced. Perhaps it would be better if Pippa went to work for Dufay. He could then bring Robin into the house and the boy could run errands, although he would need regular perception spells cast on him.

  Luke knew he would have to keep his own head down for a few days at least. If he was still being watched, as Gwenette averred, then it would be a sound idea to keep to his usual pattern of gathering herbs and working. He thought about the events of the afternoon. That he had somehow antagonized Sir Nigel Kerr was obvious; the reason for the man’s hostility toward him, less so.

  One sentence of Norfolk’s came back to him. As far as anybody was concerned, Goodwife Pitt had died and was buried. Buried with some haste and secrecy, in Luke’s view. She had not been anybody of note, and the meanest, most lowly of persons would count the mother of a traitor as inferior to them. So, it begged a few questions. Why was it of concern to someone of Norfolk’s standing that a mere woman, mother to a traitor to boot, had died? Why was it unwelcome that Luke had been asking about her? And perhaps the most interesting question of all, why had Norfolk informed Luke that the woman had died of a seizure? Why had he taken the trouble to emphasize that as her cause of death? Unless, of course, it was not a seizure at all.

  Luke remembered his trance. Once more he saw the great black hound towering over the praying woman. It had to be powerful magic that could deflect the pure atmosphere of heartfelt prayers said in consecrated surroundings. There was only one answer for that. Black magic. They were up against sunderers, that was certain, but was the Duke of Norfolk one of them, or an innocent soul being used for black purposes? And if the latter, by whom?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Despite his initial fear, Luke could not help feeling a thrill of excitement. He had encountered sunderers only a few times in the years since his first master had recognized the elemancer in him. Luke remembered those days when his life changed so completely. It had been deep winter; even the Thames had frozen over. His master, Silas Parsloe, had been trying to light the fire and failing because the wood was green and damp. The resulting smoke caught their throats and eyes, making them cough and causing tears to stream down their cheeks. Luke had taken hold of the twigs and within a few minutes, flames were licking along the twigs. The wood spat and crackled, sending sparks shooting up the chimney. He had thought nothing of the long, assessing stare Silas had given him.

  Two weeks later, an urchin had limped into the shop, shivering under his thin tunic, his bare feet, hands and face blue with cold. He was on the verge of collapsing, but Luke caught him, his heart giving a great wrench as he saw the boy was little more than skin and bone. He had poured ale into a beaker, adding honey, cloves and nutmeg. The poor mite’s hands were so cold, he could not hold it, so Luke sat the child on his knee, holding the cup to the boy’s pinched lips. His own contracted in anger that innocents like this one could be so neglected. Within seconds, steam had begun to rise from the ale as the boy sipped, bringing color to his cheeks and making him splutter. Luke found some old clothes, too big but warmer than the rags the lad had been wearing.

  Silas had given the boy a bowl of pottage and sent him on his way. Then the old man had pulled the shutter down and taken Luke to his elemancer sister. Two weeks later, the young apothecary’s initiation had taken place before the previous Elemagus, Kolby Verrall, and Luke had become a member of the Guild of Elemancers.

  The Guild did not recognize women elemancers. They were initiated, but never permitted to attend meetings or be publicly acknowledged. Pippa would be unrecognized just as Silas’s sister had been. In Luke’s opinion, this was very shortsighted. The Grocers’ Company accepted women apothecaries, both as assistants and in their own right, even if the latter were usually widows.

  Be that as it may, he needed to prepare Pippa’s initiation and then consider the matter of her move to Dufay’s house. Dufay’s reasoning was sound. It would be safer for her, so Luke had to move quickly. Now, in fact.

  He put his head around the kitchen door. “I am going out. I shall not be long.”

  He snatched up his scrip and was out of the shop, slamming the door behind him, before she had a chance to reply. At least the walk would give him time to think. If the Gethin Pitt affair and his known unease about it had brought official attention upon him, he must ensure that nothing threatened the safety of the Guild. He would explain to Pippa, make her understand. In any case she would be farther away from the palace at Dufay’s house and therefore farther from Cecily. That thought might make her more amenable. He decided to broach the subject over their evening meal.

  * * *

  Pippa was dimly aware of Luke saying something and the next thing she heard was the bang of the shop door. She walked through, but all was dark and quiet. The meal was almost ready and her lord and master had decided to go out without any explanation. She knew it was not her place to complain, simply to accept, but that did not stop her stamping her foot in frustration. She went back to the fire, sighing a little.

  Cecily had looked very fine in her court clothes. God only knew what mischief she would instigate if she caught sight of Pippa, although Luke was probably right when he said Cecily would not recognize her cousin in servant’s garb. Pippa sighed again. Then a smile curved into her cheek as she remembered Geoffrey Peveril and the secret glances they had enjoyed. Glances beyond those that Bertila and the others had witnessed.

  Her heart had skipped a beat and then raced with surprise and joy when Geoffrey slipped into the shop a few minutes after Luke had been taken for questioning. His pretense of coming to see Luke had been just that and they both knew it. He followed her into the kitchen and sat at the bench. They had talked, but of what, Pippa could not now remember. All she recalled was the warm admiration in his eyes. Her skin still burned from where he had taken her hand in his, caressing it with his thumb. Indeed, Pippa was sure Geoffrey had been on the point of kissing her when they heard the shop door. Faster than she would have thought possible, he slipped out to the yard just as Luke had come into the kitchen.

  Pippa began to dream about being Geoffrey’s wife, but first she would enjoy being his sweetheart. Unheeded, the mutton roasting in the pot began to char. Her nose finally alerted her to the disaster in progress. She gazed in astonishment at the black smoke seeping from under the lid. Where had that come from? Seizing a pothook, she whisked the pan from the flames, wincing at the heat of the handle before cutting off the burned edges and preparing broad beans.

  * * *

  “You must begin your formal training, Pippa,” Luke said during the meal. “We will perform your initiation ceremony and discuss your future.”

  He could see from her face that she was trying hard to control the excitement that must be flooding through her and permitted himself a smile. It would deflect her mind from thoughts of that knave, Geoffrey Peveril. Since Luke’s return from questioning, she had been unnaturally quiet and he wondered if his unexpected proximity to danger had given her cause for reflection. If so, she was learning. Good.

  “What must I do?” she asked.

  “First, sweep the floor and spread fresh rushes. Then clean all surfaces. Next, you must wash and put on the clean clothes I will give you. One of the first tenets of good magic is that all should be clean and fresh. Dirt attracts the malus nocte.”

  “All part of the balance?”

  “Aye,” he replied, pleased that she understood. “Few people believe that there can be no light without dark. By the same token, they are amazed when stung by nettles to find the leaves of the dock growing nearby. As the sun goes down, the moon rises. Most of my work as an apothecary is balancing my patients’ humors. Balance is all. If you understand that and remember it, you will have the makings of a fine elemancer.”

  She blushed at his praise, lowering her eyes. Luke went upstairs and came down with a bundle of clo
thes wrapped in a sheet.

  “I collected your ceremonial attire this afternoon. You must keep it clean and out of harm’s way, once you are initiated. I shall warm water for us both and wash in the shop. Call me when you are finished. Here is the tunic you must wear for the ceremony. You may dress in the kitchen.”

  Luke stripped off his clothes and washed before donning a floor-length white tunic. Joss he wiped down with a warmed wet cloth, scented with lavender. He took a fine red-and-gold embroidered leather collar from the sheet wrapping and fastened it around her neck. A matching red tabard, also embroidered with gold, he slipped over his head. Then he took down the oils, herbs and powders he had prepared earlier, put them on a tray and stood with his hands clasped waiting for Pippa. He offered up humble prayers asking for help in his task to initiate a new force for good into the world. When Pippa opened the door, he had to suppress a smile at the look of apprehension on her face.

  “Do not be afraid. All will be well.” Luke carried in the tray and put it on the dresser. “Come and stand in front of me.”

  He took a clean cloth from the sheet and laid it on the table, then placed a small glass sphere on the cloth. From the tray he took powders in the prescribed order, mixed them in a wooden bowl and, saying a few words over them, poured them on the orb. It at once began to glow with a clear white light. The fragrance of rosemary, citrus and juniper filled the air.

  Luke pressed his palms together. “Pick up the orb. No, not like that—cradle it so that it sits in both hands. Answer my questions truthfully and without fear. What is your name?”

  “Philippa Gar...Garrod.”

  “What is your natal day?”

  “25th July 1533.”

  Luke stood still for a moment. She shared the King’s date of birth. Then he chided himself. Now was no time to ponder the significance of such things. “Do you come to offer yourself as an acolyte elemancer with all your heart?”