Court of Conspiracy

by April Taylor

  “You are embarked on a hazardous mission, Luke. I am, as you know, not a man of action. I prefer working with charts, numbers and calculations. But I will always be on hand to guide you if you need counsel. Now, tell me, despite the dangers, which are quite as real as you think them to be, are you enjoying this...I shall keep calling it a mission. When you forget your lack of confidence, does it excite you?”

  “I cannot say.” Panic stabbed at the edges of his mind.

  Dufay held his hands over Luke’s head again. “There is no need for alarm. You are safeguarded by more than you can know or understand. Imagine that your dread is a shower of rain on the feathers of a duck. Let it roll off unheeded. Good. Your visualization skills are excellent. Now, look into your deepest heart. Answer my question.”

  Luke felt as if, along with the pain, his doubts had receded to a point where they became not unimportant, but irrelevant. “Aye,” he said, weighing every word. “I feel a new purpose by helping where I begin to understand others cannot.”

  “And does the fact that it involves matters of state affect your feelings?”

  “I could not refuse. That a guilty man allowed an innocent one to hang in his place spurs me on.”

  Dufay sat down opposite Luke and motioned him to an empty chair. “I believe, Master Ballard, that you have most of the qualities needed for an Inquirer Elemancer. The parish Beadles do their best, as do the crowners, but I believe that our society needs some form of structured investigative service. Inquirers such as you could help curb increasing lawlessness. We all know the penalties for any disloyalty, overt or perceived, to the throne. It is certainly something I and the Guild must think on.

  “Now, if you are agreeable, I intend to steer your further studies towards developing your deductive faculties. If I read you correctly, we must make haste. I’m going to cast a remembrancer spell, so that what I teach you is not just planted in your mind, but you can begin applying it with speed and focus. You must still practice, of course, but it will shorten your period of learning.”

  “Is there much calculation and mixing involved?”

  “Calculation, aye, but I can help you with that, too. Mixing, no. As you go further up the grades, you will not need to mix potions for the most common spells but utilize your mind and hands more. Your visualization skills will be invaluable, and I urge you to think of them as muscles that require frequent exercise. Use them whenever you are able. I will formulate a special recipe to help you with your work in jurisprudence. It will be the one concoction you must mix fresh every morning and rub into both hands as soon as it is ready. It cannot be washed off and should hold good for any spells you cast until the following morning. You must always carry a small amount on your person, in case you find yourself in need.”

  Dufay then went on detail Luke’s studies. As he became more adept, he would be able to mask his appearance as well as his thoughts with a deflective enclosure spell. He would be able to project spells at greater distances than previously, to throw a protective barrier around people or places using gemstones to aid his magic. He handed Luke a small pouch filled with crystals and semi-precious stones, explaining the use of each. Luke stowed the bag in his sleeve.

  By the time Luke had completed his lesson for the day three hours later, he could already throw a protective aura around a chair and observe the Elemagus’s kitchen without using perfumed envisioning oil. Luke was less than pleased to see that the kitchen held Ajax, but no Pippa.

  He tried to see past the back gate, but could not.

  He was about to leave when he turned to Dufay.

  “What are we to do about Pippa?”

  Dufay frowned. “I have not had the time to teach her as much as I had hoped. She has talent, aye, but it is very untutored. She seems to think that she can use it like some hawker in a fair. I have been engaged on serious study into extending our magical abilities during the past year and will not finish it for another few months. By the end of my day, my mind is exhausted, but I should have found time to probe her thoughts. I fear I have made a grave error.”

  Luke opened his mouth to remind Dufay that he had been given fair warning of Pippa’s temperament, but shut it again. In some ways the Elemagus was not worldly wise. Perhaps he had thought he could change the girl’s character by dint of soft words and her desire to learn. And how would the Elemagus deal with Peveril? If it came to a physical encounter with him over Pippa, Luke did not believe the older man would be quick enough to counter it. Far better that she come back to the Outer Green shop where he could keep a closer eye on her.

  “That she is deep in love with Peveril I can tell,” Dufay continued. “It troubles me and I cannot fathom why. Few people can hide their deepest feelings from me, but she is one such. That is why I thought she would make an excellent elemancer, but now I am unsure.”

  He gazed at Luke, his discomfort obvious. Luke felt compelled to reclaim the problem. After all, it had been his decision to take the girl in that had caused this mess. The dilemma was his to resolve. Pippa. Nothing but trouble from the instant he had first encountered her.

  He almost blessed Alison for making him aware how devious and destructive women were. Always had been right back to Eve ruining paradise for man by self-centered stupidity. Thank God he had succeeded in keeping clear of them all these years. “I will take her home with me,” he said at last. “She is best away from here. Should Peveril show his face at my house, I will see him off and let her know this is her final chance. If she takes no heed, then she can make good where she will. We can make sure she does no mischief to us or the Guild.”

  “Very well. I confess I shall need all my powers for the work I have in hand, but we will progress your studies, never fear. Practice as much as you are able. I would like to see how well you can perform the enclosure spell by this time next week.”

  Luke found Pippa sitting on the ground outside the back door, and she did not argue when he told her to gather her things together. Luke made no attempt to talk to her, so she was very quiet on their journey, only expressing her surprise at finding Robin at the house.

  “Are you not still being sought by the guards?”

  Robin glanced at Luke, who answered for him. “Aye, which is why his hair is now permanently dark and much shorter.” He looked at Pippa. “And do not entertain any notions of giving him up, or you will suffer for it. Do I make myself clear?”

  “I had no such intent,” she answered, a flush suffusing her cheeks.

  “How heartening to know you have some finer feelings,” said Luke. “Now, do you think you can drag your mind away from Master Geoffrey Peveril to cooking a meal? I will be back soon.”

  Luke felt he must visit Corbin Quayne, that he needed to know the true situation between Peveril and Pippa, even if he did not tell Bertila. The quickest route was straight through the palace courtyards and out into the park. From there it was a short walk to Hampton Wick.

  He was halfway across the Base Court when a voice hailed him and turning, he saw Will Quayne waving from a window. He waited for Will to come out.

  “I was just about to go and see your father.”

  “And I was about to come and see you in your shop. I have news.”

  “Of what?”

  “I think you should be delighted that your housekeeper has gone to another post and is no longer with you, Luke.”

  Luke stiffened. His fears of the previous night returned in full force and he felt a sweat of panic trickling down his back under his tunic. Pippa knew most of the details about the plot against the King. Will’s face told him that he bore no good tidings. Had Luke unwittingly given himself away to the enemy? It would avail him nothing to say that he had been commanded by the Queen to tell her. He turned a wary face to Will. “News?”

  “Aye. She has told you a pack of lies. Her name is not Garrod. It is Gardiner.”
r />   “Is that all?” Luke felt his muscles begin to relax.

  Will put his hand on his friend’s shoulder and shook it. “Gardiner,” he repeated. Then, in response to Luke’s blank look, “Gardiner as in Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester.”

  “Are you sure?” Luke’s legs did not seem to want to support him.

  “Aye. She is a distant cousin of our not-so-revered Bishop who currently resides in the Tower. The Catholic Bishop,” Will said, emphasizing every word. “The Catholic Bishop who is so close to the Lady Mary. The same Lady Mary who spends much of her time at Framlingham, near to where your housekeeper lived until she came to you.”

  Luke took a deep breath. “Damn her to Hades. Will, she did not suit her employer so, as of this morning, she is back under my roof. God’s Teeth, this is a development I did not need. I must think.” He was aware as he strode into the Fountain Court that Will stared after him.

  So, Pippa had lied about her name. Was that because of some nefarious purpose to do with Catholic Mary? Or was it, perhaps, to try and make sure that the Catholic faction amongst whom she had been living could not trace her when she ran away? But whilst these thoughts ran through his head, he knew they were merely a cover for the thing that worried and frightened him most.

  Pippa had taken her elemancer vows using an assumed name. He remembered her momentary hesitation when she said her name at the beginning of the articles. The fact that her whole induction had been based on a lie would render her studies dangerous to herself, because any spells she cast could easily rebound on their creator. It would also make her vulnerable to the malus nocte. Her very soul could be in peril.

  Luke came to a halt. Had not Dufay said he was unable to read her deepest thoughts? Perhaps she was already under a malign sway. Perhaps she always had been.

  If she was truly working for the enemy, and the timeliness of her first appearance in his workshop gave that credence, then his adversaries not only knew every detail of the investigation, they knew him, where he lived, his habits, everything about him. She would have told them. Why had he not heeded that instinctive feeling that she should be kept at arm’s length? He had known she was dangerous. She had brought strife into the calm of his life, turned his world into disorder and chaos, filled his mind with worry and anxiety. Aye, his life. A life that was, in reality, not worth an hour’s purchase.

  Luke once more saw in his mind’s eye Pippa’s flushed, ardent face as she looked up at Geoffrey Peveril under the birch tree in Dufay’s garden, whilst Ajax was shut away in the kitchen.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The woman paced her chamber, fists clenched in rage and frustration. King Henry IX still sat secure on his throne rather than being a torn and bloody mess under a block of fallen stone. This would not do. She must pray harder. He could only be under the protection of the Boleyn witch. She must find a way of besting the great whore who had thwarted all her plans.

  Unable to stay still, she rose from the table. Walking to the window, she leaned on the sill and looked out over the gardens to the river, concentrating on calming her breathing. She must not allow anyone to see this rage. A rage tinged with fear. The longer the campaign, the more likely it was to be discovered or betrayed. Even the most trusted servants could be turned, and she was under no illusions. The Tudors’ spies were everywhere. She did not think, however, that she was suspected. It was with a slight shock that she found blood on the stone of the window from her nails digging into her palms.

  She turned away from the sunlit gardens and sparkling water, back to the table and sat staring into the middle distance. That God would help the enterprise was beyond doubt. Her cause was true and surely He would understand that the glorious prize she worked for justified whatever means she used to gain it. And gain it, she would. Slipping into the chapel, she dropped to her knees.

  * * *

  Nearing Hampton Wick, Luke spotted the figure of a woman walking ahead of him. For a fleeting moment he thought it was Pippa and hurried to admonish her for being out when she had been told to remain inside. As he came closer, however, he recognized Mistress Gwenette Paige. With the sight of her came the blurred memory of the movement of the unknown woman swishing out of the light from the torches the previous night. Was it the way the figure had moved? She had been the right height for Gwenette, certainly. Had he seen a glint of jewels on her bodice as she turned away?

  Whoever those skirts had belonged to had come from the palace. On reflection, though, was that true? He had taken a circuitous route that morning through the orchard to make it appear as if he had come from elsewhere, so why should someone else not do the same?

  Focusing his thoughts on possible explanations kept at bay the torment nibbling at the fringes of his mind. The shimmering vision of a noose around his neck accompanied by the smell of his entrails burning under his living nose. The deeper he became entangled in this web, the more solid that image became.

  Could the woman last night have been Gwenette Paige? But he trusted Gwenette. Had it been the Queen then? Not likely. Pippa? Bertila? Pippa’s cousin, Cecily? Conjecture was useless. He must follow the instinct that told him it was Gwenette. He had no other choice, but it meant he might have one more person against whom he must be on his guard, however unwilling he was to think it was his friend.

  Fortunately, Gwenette headed in the opposite direction when they came to the village. Still suspicious, Luke watched her out of sight before turning toward Corbin’s house. He had an unpleasant duty to perform, a hundred times worse than telling Giles about Alison. His only desire was to get it over with, lessen the burden of guilt he felt as a physical weight on his heart.

  Corbin greeted him with a smile and an invitation to take food and drink, but Luke knew his expression would betray the anxiety he felt. Corbin was far too astute not to notice it.

  “Master Ballard. Are you ailing?”

  “No, sir, but I would speak with you alone.”

  Corbin stared at him as if trying to read the problem, but after a few seconds he pulled the door wider and beckoned Luke in. Bertila was sitting at the table and it was obvious that Corbin was in the middle of his meal.

  “I pray pardon, sir. I did not know that you were at table. I will wait outside until you are finished.”

  “You will do no such thing, Luke Ballard,” Bertila said, putting out another plate and spoon. “There is plenty of chicken and bread if you have not already eaten.”

  The tantalizing aroma of chicken and herbs reminded Luke that he had not yet broken his fast today. This realization was quickly followed by gnawing pain from his stomach as if it had finally been given the opportunity to remind its owner that food was a regular necessity. Or mayhap it was the comparison between the food on Corbin’s table and the meager fare in his own house that made his knees buckle. Corbin caught his arm and tried to steer him to a chair at the table, but Luke shook his head.

  “I haven’t eaten today yet, true,” he said to his former master. “But, until I have spoken, I would feel like a traitor taking salt with you.”

  Corbin and Bertila exchanged glances. “I will keep the food warm, Father. Take Luke into the dispensary.”

  As if trying to stave off the moment of confrontation, Luke looked around at Corbin’s shelves, crammed with many more remedies than he could afford. He touched a jar of gold next to another of emeralds, ingredients that most of his own clients would never see.

  “Come on, lad. Out with it. What have you done?”

  “On my honor, sir, I have done nothing and that, perhaps, is where my fault lies.”

  “You were always like this, Luke. Stop going round the Tiltyard and start the joust.”

  Luke twisted his cap in his hands. “I fear, sir, that Master Peveril has formed an attachment to my housekeeper.” He looked up at Corbin, who stared back at him openmouthed.

&n
bsp; “You are sure? I thought she was in another place. Bertila told me so.”

  “And how did Bertila know?”

  “She said she met Pippa in the market and invited her back for refreshment.”

  So that was it. The little snake. He wished he had cut his hand off before holding it out to help her. “A ruse, sir. She needed Peveril to know where she was living. I expect Bertila told Peveril all about her new friend’s change of circumstances and where to find her. I knew that there was an attraction between them, but I warned Pippa to leave the man alone.”

  “Did you indeed?” Corbin’s voice was low, a sign that he was almost too angry to speak.

  Luke lifted his chin. “It appeared to me that Bertila’s heart was given and I wanted no impediment to stand in her way of happiness.”

  Corbin’s mouth twisted in a grimace of suppressed emotion. He walked with a heavy tread to the settle near the counter.

  “You are right. Would it were not so. Her heart is given and to Peveril, but, to my knowledge, he has not been here for almost a week. Oh, she says nothing to me, but I can see that her cheek is pale, her eyes pink and that she eats almost nothing. Now, it would seem I know why.”

  He sat for a moment in silence before striking his knee with a clenched fist. “Why did I not heed the signs the first time Peveril met Mistress Garrod? I should have realized the strength of that spark between them and acted accordingly to protect my girl. But all I could think was that she would be another friend for Bertila—and she has precious few of those.”

  “It is also my fault, sir. I should have reprimanded her for her forwardness that day and forbidden her to accompany me. I was too worried about you to think straight.”

  Corbin looked up in surprise. “Me? Wherefore?”

  “Because Will told me that you were not yourself, and when you came to visit me in the shop, I saw that you carried a burden you felt unable to share.”