“Oberon is not the ruler of this court!” Vidal roared.
Pasgen shrugged again. “No, but since there is no hurry about being rid of the child, why chance enraging the High King?”
“Oh?” Vidal glowered down at him dangerously. “And how do you know there is no hurry to be rid of Elizabeth? You have not been near the FarSeers’ tower.”
“The matter is clear without FarSeeing,” Pasgen retorted. “Whatever the FarSeers envision for the future, the girl is of no importance now, and as the young prince grows and thrives she becomes steadily less important. At this time she still has guards and a household, but those have been reduced greatly over the years, and it is most likely that when the prince comes to the throne and is betrothed or even wedded, she will become more of a nuisance than an asset. I thought it well worthwhile to wait until she is left unattended most of the time. Then an ‘accident’ could be easily arranged at a time when no one is likely to question being rid of an inconvenient burden.”
“Not unreasonable, my lord,” Aurelia said, shocking Pasgen as she spoke. Her hand rose uncertainly toward her temple and then dropped. “I can see no reason to call Oberon’s attention to us.”
Pasgen hid his surprise as best he could, but he would have been less surprised, and certainly less dismayed, if one of Vidal’s statues stood up and spoke the same words. So. Aurelia was back in her right mind. How long had she been feigning feeble-mindedness? What had she noticed?
Vidal snorted, but said to Pasgen, “Very well, but see that the accident is arranged in no long time.” He then turned his eyes to Rhoslyn and asked, “And what have you to tell me of your charge?”
Rhoslyn sighed, her relief obvious. “Lady Mary goes on much as before. She worships by the old rite as much as she can in secret. She has asked the Imperial ambassador, Chapuys, to obtain a secret pardon from the pope for her for having accepted her father as supreme head of the English Church and for going to worship where his rites were used. There can be no doubt that if she comes to the throne, she will restore the pope, the old rites, the opportunity for abuses such as the indulgences, and everything as it was in her mother’s lifetime, and all those who oppose this restoration of the old ways will pay for their obstinacy.”
Aurelia frowned and asked, “And the people? Will they gladly set aside the reformed religion? If they are willing and eager for the restoration of Catholicism she will have no need to call in the Inquisition.”
“She will,” Rhoslyn said firmly. “The common folk are mostly just confused, and the older people, at least, are uneasy with this change in what they have always believed, but the younger folk have taken to the new reforms with zeal. And many are very glad to be free of paying what they call ‘Peter’s pence’ and will resist its restoration. Even among the high families that may think with nostalgia of the days when the supreme head of the Church was far away rather than in their laps, most do not want to turn back again. They have profited by the dissolution of the monasteries and convents. They have all gladly taken lands that once belonged to the Church. If the old religion is restored and the monasteries and convents are reestablished, Mary might try to force those families to disgorge what they so greedily swallowed. And there are those who sincerely believe that the old religion was corrupt and that the path to salvation lies in faith rather than good works. True, there may be some who will welcome the return of the old ways, both high and low, but by no means all. No, no. There will be enough resistance.”
Vidal nodded sharply, but Aurelia frowned. “We need the power that Mary’s Inquisition will bring us. What of the boy who stands between her and the throne?”
Even Vidal shrank slightly away at those words. “No!” he exclaimed, before either Pasgen or Rhoslyn could say anything. “Beseech instead for Edward’s health, because if aught befalls that child there will be such investigations into his fate as will uncover the intrusion of a mote of dust—both from King Henry and from King Oberon. Besides, it will be well for us if Edward comes to the throne.”
“As well as if Mary rules?”
Vidal pursed his lips and his eyes slid sideways to Aurelia, but he only said, “Different, yet Edward’s reign will provide us with power. There will be much misery and no few confiscations and executions. And Mary herself will be watched, which will further embitter her, and make her more apt to the hand of the Inquisition when she comes to power.” He pointed at Rhoslyn. “You are specially commanded to take care that no harm comes to Mary. I will not interfere with the prince, since he will serve us well, but Mary is to be guarded carefully and kept in reserve.”
“Yes, I agree.” There was now a slightly rough timbre to Aurelia’s voice; it was no longer as smooth and sweet and poisonous as poppy syrup. “But for how long, my lord? For how long? Mary is mortal, not Sidhe. She is already over twenty years of age and she is sickly—”
“True. True. Which is why–” Vidal turned and pinned Pasgen with his gaze “—I want Elizabeth gone.”
“Elizabeth is not the first problem,” Rhoslyn said quickly. “Nor even the second nor the third. Mary is very worried because her father is seeking a new bride, and he is seeking a bride among the nations that cleave to the reformed religion. If the king produces another son, Mary’s chance of coming to the throne could almost vanish.”
She was not certain why Pasgen was reluctant to deal with Elizabeth, but she had sensed her brother’s tension. What she suspected was that he could not bear to harm a child, and she resolved immediately to do all she could to help him. A new wife for the king was a good distraction. But Vidal merely shrugged. It was Aurelia who leaned forward with interest.
“A new wife?” She smiled slowly and for a moment she was again almost the vital, glowing creature she had been before whatever had happened to her at Hatfield. “I can take care of that! Just be sure to let me know when the lady is due to arrive and bring me something that belongs to the king.”
“You will not bespell the king,” Vidal snarled, fear greasing his pallid skin with a sheen of sweat.
“No,” Aurelia agreed. “I will cast a spell that repels the king, a spell that will make him hate whoever carries the spell, but the king himself will not be bespelled.”
“Ah.” Vidal sat back, satisfied. He waved at Rhoslyn and Pasgen. “You are both to bring me news from the mortal world, and that is to be your prime business.” He waved again, dismissal this time. “You may go, both of you. My further business does not concern you.”
For a moment Pasgen was so paralyzed with rage he just froze in place. Then Rhoslyn took his arm and tugged at it. With a harsh, indrawn breath Pasgen erupted forward toward Vidal’s throne. Vidal half raised a hand. The air tingled with leashed magic. Rhoslyn pulled urgently on her brother’s arm, meanwhile casting a silencing spell on him. He almost pulled away. Rhoslyn hissed, “Shields,” and dragged him into the aisle. By the time he had reinforced the shields and broken the silencing spell they had reached the outer door, and he no longer needed to be silenced.
He breathed out an angry puff of air and said, “I suppose that was very effective in making me seem afraid of Vidal so I should thank you.”
“Yes, you should.” Rhoslyn laughed. “You were going to destroy all our careful work for the last half year just because Vidal dismissed you publicly. And what is so funny is that you don’t want to be involved in whatever business he has with the ogres, and hags, and boggles, and bane-sidhes, do you?”
Pasgen sighed, then also laughed. “No, you are right, I don’t. But I don’t favor being virtually banished to the mortal world as a news gatherer. Rhoslyn, I have no interest at all in the mortal world any longer. I have found such wonders here, Underhill.”
“Yes, I know.” Rhoslyn sent out a mental call to the servants to bring their not-horses. “But you would have even less time, much less, if you found yourself again ruler of the Unseleighe. Give Vidal what he wants and then pretend to go traveling or something.”
Pasgen seized Torgen’s r
eins from a trembling servant who showed bloody bite marks. He struck the not-horse a tremendous blow on the forehead and mounted, pulling back on the double reins to raise a barbed wheel from the bar across the mouth to stab the upper palate if the creature lunged.
“Now that,” Pasgen said, easing the reins as Rhoslyn mounted, “is a very good idea.”
He was somewhat surprised at Rhoslyn’s easy agreement to “giving Vidal what he wants” which meant Elizabeth’s death. Part of his reluctance to harm the child was his fear that Rhoslyn would be seriously angry, would cut him off. He rather resented his need for her approval but did recognize it. In the past they had competed more than cooperated, but the shared problem of their mother had brought them closer, and when Oberon had forced him to whip the Unseleighe Court into order, he had become completely estranged from the other dark Sidhe. Now—well, he was interested only in his researches into power and did not often seek companionship, but he needed some contact with fellow beings and only Rhoslyn and his mother would respond.
Had Rhoslyn known how Pasgen interpreted her remark, she would have been horrified. She had not been thinking about Elizabeth at all when she said Pasgen should satisfy Vidal. It seemed to her that it was Vidal’s order to bring news from the mortal world that had infuriated Pasgen and on their way to the Gate, she pointed out that she could easily take over much of the information-gathering. Also he had already established a persona that would permit him to learn what was necessary with very little effort on his part.
To Pasgen it seemed as if she had simply dismissed Elizabeth from her mind and gone on to a subject she considered more important. He was aware, if not entirely approving, of Rhoslyn’s fascination with the mortal world.
“You are quite right,” he said. “I was thinking myself that it was time to bring Fagildo Otstargi back from his foreign sojourns and reinsinuate him into court life.”
Unfortunately it was already past time. A treaty for the marriage of King Henry and Anne of Cleves was engineered by Thomas Cromwell in October, and the bride arrived in England on New Year’s Day 1540.
Pasgen had delayed his “return” to avoid involvement in whatever Aurelia did, but Rhoslyn, who actually introduced Aurelia into Lady Mary’s entourage told him that her act was so smooth and innocent no suspicion could possibly have attached to her.
Most of the crowd of ladies who greeted Anne presented her with some small gift of welcome. Aurelia’s was a tiny, exquisite scent bottle to be worn on a belt or a bracelet or a necklace. Several of the other ladies handled it and admired it, and Anne attached it to her belt at once. Rhoslyn herself was only minimally aware of a faint aura of distaste, but the king’s face changed drastically from willing expectation to dire disappointment as soon as he approached his bride. It could be seen by all that he hated her on sight.
Likely Aurelia’s mischief was only the final catastrophe among Cromwell’s failures, although once Pasgen began to study current politics in England he realized there were many causes for the minister’s fall. All in all he was glad he had not “arrived” yet. Cromwell might have appealed to his old advisor for help, and there would have been nothing Pasgen could do to help him. Pasgen might have arranged for Henry’s distaste for Anne to fade, but that would not have saved Cromwell and would have infuriated Aurelia.
Despite FitzRoy’s suggestion, Denoriel made no attempt to approach the duke of Norfolk for several months. In that time he assured himself that there were no Unseleighe influences near Elizabeth. He managed to get into every room in Hatfield—using the Don’t-see-me spell—to investigate the portions of the palace that were closed off, and he also made excuses and efforts to speak to every person of her household, even the lowest of the servants.
None had the taint of the Unseleighe and he found no lingering echoes of imps or other unsavory creatures either inside the palace or in the grounds; he had been particularly careful in the garden. Finally he had Aleneil bind one of the air spirits to remain near Elizabeth and watch for any shadow of the Dark Court. The one place where Denoriel detected a faint Unseleighe presence was his own house in London, where a strong whiff of imp hit him one day when he opened his clothes press.
He no longer wore any of the clothes. It was far easier for him to create the garments on his body Underhill than to go to the trouble of actually putting on small clothes, hose, slops, shirt, doublet, sleeves, gown, and all the other oddments required. While he had guarded Harry, he had had friends who came to visit him and it was often necessary for him to change his clothing in their presence if they were going to some dinner or other entertainment. At present he had no such visitors and only kept the garments in the wardrobe for verisimilitude.
Scenting imp, he summoned his servants—Low Court Sidhe who were supposed to have come with him from Hungary and hardly spoke English—and bade them remove and examine every garment for malign spells or substances. Nothing was found. Puzzled, Denoriel cleansed the wardrobe and bade his servants destroy everything in it and order new clothing from his tailor, who had his measurements. He bid one dryad to choose colors and fabrics for three suits, a satyr to make three other choices, a nymph to select sleeves and adornments. :Tell the tailor,: he said to them, :that the clothes I had left here were out of fashion because I had been gone so long.:
He then Gated hastily to Hatfield, which he entered cloaked in the Don’t-see-me spell, and rushed through the rooms and out into the garden. He could find no trace of any Unseleighe intrusion, and grew more puzzled by the moment. What could an imp want in his clothes press? Nothing occurred to him, and he could only assume that the imp had been foiled in whatever it intended by an intrusion by one of his servants.
Having satisfied himself that Elizabeth was safe, he knew he should simply go away. However, since he was already at Hatfield, he yielded to temptation, mounting Miralys just out of sight of Hatfield and riding in for a visit. He received the punishment he deserved in the tepid welcome proffered. Elizabeth and Blanche walked to the garden with him but hardly tried to mask their conviction that he was only finding an excuse when he asked if they had been disturbed by any uncanny presence, while the air spirit was offended by the idea it had been lax in its attention.
Even Kat Champernowne was somewhat less welcoming than usual, commenting that he was a rather more frequent visitor than she expected. Beside that, Elizabeth irritated him further, after he had said farewell, by stopping him from leaving to demand, in a low but angry voice, the response to her letter to Harry.
“I cannot make the ship sail faster,” Denoriel snapped. “And if it founders, it will be some months before I know and can send Harry a message to write again.”
“Liar,” she breathed, so low he almost could not hear. “He is dead.”
“What would it profit me to lie to you?” Denoriel grated between his teeth. “I could have said in the beginning that I did not know where he was.”
“But that would have gained you less credit with me.”
“Credit with you?” Denoriel almost howled, at the last moment bringing his voice down to an outraged whisper so it would not echo past the garden and into the audience chamber. “Why should I want to have credit with you, you noxious brat?”
She laughed aloud at his exasperation, but her eyes were sharp and so bright that Denoriel blinked. “No one else would dare call me a noxious brat,” she said. “I am the king’s daughter.”
“And I called the Duke of Richmond ‘Harry’ even though he was the king’s son, although I admit I never called him a noxious brat—but that was because he did not deserve it.”
However, this time Elizabeth did not, as she so often did after driving him into a temper, smile and beg him to come again soon. Her eyes darkened and she looked down.
“True enough, my Da was too sweet-tempered to be a noxious brat … but I am not, and I do not want to see you again until you have his letter. You said months—months have passed. I have enquired how long a voyage to the Indies takes. Yours is ove
rlong.” Whereupon she turned on her heel and walked through the gate toward the door of the palace.
Denoriel fought down a strong desire to run after her, although whether to wring her neck or to take her in his arms and comfort her, he did not know. He told himself that if he did not return for several weeks, it would serve her right. She was safe enough with the air spirit and Blanche to watch for Unseleighe intrusion and her guardsmen (who Denoriel had determined had taken her to their hearts as they had taken Harry), to watch for human dangers.
He swore as he walked toward the stable where Miralys waited that he would not be coerced into giving her Harry’s letter, which had been waiting in his London house for some weeks, but he sighed as he swore, fearing he would not keep the vow. Ridiculous as it was, because most of the time they were together they only quarreled, he missed her terribly if more than a few days passed between visits.
Elizabeth was so clever, so acute, that she was drawing him into a real interest in political events in England. She said the most outrageous things, betraying a political cynicism that should have been far beyond a child of eight. But few things were beyond her; she was frighteningly precocious. Then again, she had to be. If she were not, she would have been in far more danger.
Nor was Elizabeth only clever in English politics. She was making him into a student of classical times. There, of course, he had a strong advantage because he could learn from Aleneil’s fellow FarSeer Rhonwen, who had lived in the glory of Greece and Rome, what had happened and how close they had come to living what they wrote. Thus, the discussions he and Elizabeth had about Greek philosophy and Roman virtue were quite exciting, as he tried to communicate Rhonwen’s revelations without exposing how he obtained the information.
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