Ill Met by Moonlight

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Fine,” Elizabeth said. “Agree to share servants, like cooks and cleaners. You can even offer to give up that fool groom of the chamber and the footmen. Only Dunstan must be kept, and he will not mind if you give him a lesser title.”

  “True enough,” Kat sighed. “I do not know what I would do without Dunstan.”

  So the agreements were made with Sir William, but May passed and June also without any order to Elizabeth to move. Finally on July first Henry and Catherine left for the north. To save time they no longer planned a stop at Hertford. Nonetheless Elizabeth and Edward joined households shortly thereafter. Edward was thrilled to have a sister who gave him all of her attention and treated him with great respect.

  Elizabeth was as happy as she could be. She now had a living doll—and a very clever one, too—that she could hug, fuss over, and encourage. She did not mother him the way that Mary had tried to mother her; perhaps because a great deal of Mary’s “mothering” consisted of “no” to this and “no” to that, and “oh, my dear sister, you must not!” She happily oversaw his earliest lessons in recognizing letters and helped his baby hand steady his first pen to form the great E, the first letter of his name. She adored court formalities and behaved with a gravitas fitting a dame of forty when court officers or ambassadors came to meet her. And she rode out with her own four guardsmen and two grooms for exercise, returning with glowing eyes and rosy cheeks, at least twice a week.

  Through Sir Thomas Wriothesley, Pasgen had almost daily news of the king’s progress. Henry and Catherine made their way to York, where they were supposed to meet with King James of Scotland. That hope was doomed to disappointment, but otherwise the progress was very successful for Henry. As he passed through Ampthill into Lincolnshire and rode through that part of the country where the Pilgrimage of Grace had taken fastest hold, repentant subjects rushed to demonstrate their loyalty and made their submission on their knees. The clergy, too, came with professions of fervent loyalty and rich presents.

  Other pleasant news buoyed the king’s spirits. The fortifications at Hull were satisfactory, and at Pomfret at the end of August, he heard from his emissary to Edinburgh that King James was agreeable to meet him. Safe-conducts were prepared for those who would attend the Scottish king and Henry proceeded to York, arriving about mid-September.

  In York, however, the king met with disappointment. James had not yet arrived nor sent any message giving a date for his arrival. After waiting until the end of the month, Henry learned that Cardinal Beaton had discovered the scheme for the kings to meet and prevented James, who was under his thumb, from going to York.

  The return journey was considerably faster than the progress north, but the king and queen arrived at Hampton Court at the end of October in good spirits. In fact, Wriothesley reported with satisfaction, Henry intended to offer special prayers on All Saints Day “for the good life he led and trusted to lead” with his jewel of a wife.

  “The bubble is about to burst,” Pasgen said to Rhoslyn as they stood near the entry of a new Unformed land and contemplated a patch of mist that was behaving in a most peculiar manner.

  Rhoslyn watched the self-adherent thing coil around itself and directed a gentle shaft of will at it, urging an opening out, a flattening.

  “What bubble?” she asked.

  “King Henry’s bubble of happy marriage. He is about to discover that Queen Catherine was a whore before her marriage and managed to be faithful to him for perhaps a month before she went back to being a whore.” Pasgen’s voice was not full of the satisfaction that Rhoslyn would have expected.

  The mist, rather than respond to Rhoslyn’s will, had coiled up tighter and then lashed out at her. Pasgen pulled her back, raised a hand, and was about to direct a violent spell of dissolution at it.

  “No, don’t,” she said, and cast a containment around it, whereupon it seemed to go wild, battering at the invisible force that restrained it. Smiling slightly in a “there, serves you right” way, she turned back to Pasgen. “I thought you intended that the king learn what Catherine is, but you don’t seem very happy about it.”

  “Yes, it is what I intended, but it is happening too soon. I wanted Elizabeth to be summoned back to court when the king and queen returned so that she would actually be involved in the queen’s disgrace. Unfortunately, my tool is a bit like your mist there, sidling up to me to get my advice but then acting on his own.” Pasgen frowned. “One would think that after giving him ample proof of my power, he would pay more heed to it.”

  Rhoslyn began to move farther into the Unformed land, gesturing at the containment spell so that it would follow her, bringing along its prisoner. Pasgen continued at her side, occasionally reaching out to swipe at a thicker patch of mist with a wide-mouthed bottle he could seal.

  “But he does want your advice?” she asked.

  “On everything. I swear he asks how often he should breathe in and out. However, he is not quite as busy as Woolsey and Cromwell were, so he often takes time to think over what I have told him and suggested to him, and about half the time he finds variations he prefers.”

  Rhoslyn turned to her brother with a frown of her own. “You should lesson him sharply or do away with him and find a more malleable tool.”

  Pasgen sighed. “Not so easy. He is co-secretary to the king, a position in which he knows everything that is taking place, and I have worked on his mind so that I can extract anything from it and know whatever he knows. It would take me half a year to create the same kind of facility with another man’s mind. Also—” Pasgen uttered a somewhat embarrassed laugh. “About half the time the variations on my suggestions that he uses produce better results than my own suggestions would have. He knows a great deal more about the politics of the court than I do.”

  “But in this case?” Rhoslyn prompted, still frowning.

  Pasgen shrugged one shoulder. “Soon after the king and queen set out on the progress, I arranged for a man called Lascelles to confess to Wriothesley that his sister had been in the household of the duchess of Norfolk, where the girl Catherine Howard had been raised. That sister, being urged to ask for a position as maid of honor since she knew the queen, replied that she knew the queen all too well and had no intention of serving her and perhaps being ruined, if she had not changed her ways.”

  “Changed what ways?”

  “Whoring,” Pasgen replied flatly. “The girl is as promiscuous as a maenad. It was not hard to find someone willing and ready to tell the truth. Lascelles not only named two gentleman who had been intimate with young Catherine—her music teacher and her cousin, Francis Dereham—but described in some detail exactly what had taken place. Naturally Wriothesley came rushing to me, crying that he would resign his position, that it was impossible for him to go to the king with such a tale.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t either.” Rhoslyn laughed. “The king really is likely to behead the messenger who brings him that piece of news. Mary is so disgusted with his fulsome praise of that ‘empty-headed little nothing’ that she has refused flatly to make any further overtures to her. I did not press the point since Catherine only sent a rather cold note the last time Elizabeth carried a letter and a gift.”

  Pasgen smiled, finally. “That use worked perfectly, since it drew Elizabeth to the queen’s attention and she called her to court and made a pet of her. I had hoped the same would happen when the queen returned from the progress and that Elizabeth would be implicated in the queen’s adultery.”

  Rhoslyn breathed in sharply and Pasgen raised a hand to stem her angry remark.

  “Elizabeth would not be punished with the queen or like the queen. Elizabeth is barely eight years old; however, she might well be considered soiled, considering that her mother was executed for adultery. It is a pity there are no convents now, for she might have been sent to one. But certainly she would have been banished to some remote manor and written out of the succession. That would solve my problem with Vidal. I think poor Elizabeth might actually lead a h
appier and fuller life if the weight of being third in the succession was removed.”

  “Possibly.” Rhoslyn smiled at him but shrugged. “However, according to Mary the child already sees herself as queen. Certainly she bears herself most imperiously! She is like Henry, writ small!”

  Pasgen turned his attentions to the pale-colored mists all about them. “That may mean stronger measures will need to be taken, but for now I am willing to wait and see. When I saw that Wriothesley was too terrified to go to the king himself, I pointed out that the queen’s behavior was certainly a sin against God and suggested that he send the man Lascelles to Archbishop Cranmer.”

  “Now that was clever,” Rhoslyn said, admiringly. “If I remember right, you told me that Wriothesley is of a conservative persuasion and favors the old rite. I know that Mary sends to him if she needs information or help. If so, Wriothesley will be delighted to get Cranmer, who is definitely of the reformed religion, into trouble with the king.”

  “And Cranmer, who really believes in the reformed faith, has been afraid that the queen’s orthodox opinions would lead the king back to Catholicism.”

  Pasgen actually smiled; if there was one thing that made getting involved with the mortals worthwhile, it was being able to sow mischief among them. Had it not been for his ferreting out of information, his bribes, and his well-placed hints, Catherine Howard’s amours might have gone on for years undiscovered. And it would not only be Catherine’s neck that would feel the edge of a blade when everything had shaken out.

  “So,” Pasgen continued, “although Cranmer was also afraid, he brought the news to those members of the council that were in London. They launched an investigation and found so much evidence of the queen’s promiscuity that they did not dare try to bury the evidence. Wriothesley believes that Cranmer will somehow make sure the king learns of his wife’s adultery very soon.”

  Rhoslyn stood up a little straighter, and briefly lost interest in her captive mist. “When? I would like to be with Mary when the news breaks.”

  “Within the week.”

  Rhoslyn nodded and temporarily dismissed the mortal world from her mind as she gathered together the roiling mist of the Unformed land to create from it two more servants for Pasgen. One of his constructs had simply disintegrated; that happened from time to time when too much demand had been made on the contained power. The other had been eaten by the red mist he insisted on playing with—the thought made Roslyn look back at her spell of containment and the oddly behaving patch of stuff she had imprisoned. Pasgen was looking at it too.

  She would give it to him, she thought. He had been ready to destroy it for threatening her, but once she had contained it, he had become curious. She smiled faintly as two large billows of the swirling mist first separated from the generalized fog and then began to thicken and swirl together as fingers of her power worked them like a woman spinning thread. Two at once was not easy, but she was very familiar with the pattern Pasgen desired and they were forming well. As soon as she had sealed the new servants to Pasgen’s will, she would send a mortal servant to request permission to pay her respects to Lady Mary. There was this about the mortal world that was very exciting: things happened quickly there.

  Lady Mary was delighted to grant permission to her dear Rosamund Scot to attend her, especially as Mistress Rosamund not only supported herself but often gave her lady welcome presents. Like Elizabeth’s, Mary’s household was often caught short. She told Mistress Rosamund to make her curtsey at Hampton Court because she intended to be there to welcome her father home. Rhoslyn hastened to agree and she with Mary and the ladies who attended her were present when the king gave thanks for the good life he led with his wife.

  Mary sighed that at least Catherine was a good Catholic, but the very next day she told Rosamund Scot that the king was in a terrible rage. Accusations had been made against his wife that he could not believe.

  Rosamund Scot proceeded to tell Lady Mary what the accusations were, and to give her enough details to make her sure that the accusations were true. Horrified, Mary retreated to one of her own castles. Wisely, she put as much distance between herself and scandal as possible.

  The next installment came to Pasgen from Wriothesley. To clear the queen’s name of such dreadful calumny, Henry had ordered his ministers to investigate in the deepest secrecy. Pasgen warned Wriothesley not to allow himself to hope she was innocent or he would be lost himself.

  One minister rushed off to London to examine Cranmer’s informant, but Lascelles did not falter and said that there were more people than only his sister who would testify to Catherine’s ill behavior while she was a ward of the duchess of Norfolk.

  Mannock, Catherine’s music master, and Dereham were arrested and privately examined by Wriothesley. His trust and dependence on Master Otstargi was only confirmed. Wriothesley himself would have preferred if the gentlemen claimed Lascelles to be a liar and denied their guilt, but knowing how indiscreet they had been, they confessed readily. They pointed out that their association with Catherine had been long before she became queen and was thus not treason. To hope for escape was foolish; when the king learned the truth, he would take his revenge upon every possible target.

  Wriothesley felt that Dereham, who was Catherine’s cousin, was hiding something, but he did not press the man. Remembering Otstargi’s advice, he did not release him from prison either.

  Henry was overwhelmed by the evidence presented and dispatched several ministers together with Archbishop Cranmer to question the queen. Wriothesley, wiping sweat from his brow although Otstargi’s parlor was not particularly warm, thanked God that he had not been required to accompany them. The queen had had hysterics, but when quieted by Cranmer’s promise of forgiveness, confessed to her premarital guilt. Likely the king would divorce her, Wriothesley said.

  Pasgen shook his head. “You must not hope for so easy a solution. The queen is guilty of worse, and she has involved others in her crime.”

  “Others?”

  “Certainly Lady Rochefort, very possibly the Lady Elizabeth.”

  “That is not possible! Lady Elizabeth is a child, only just turned eight years old.”

  Pasgen shrugged. “My glass shows her as witness of the queen’s friendship with certain gentlemen. The queen may well have thought that having the king’s daughter with her would be a protection—as proof that she would not misbehave before a child. You know there will be conflicting testimony from the queen’s women. Yet things may have passed that a child would see and speak of without understanding, things you and the examiners of the queen’s ladies can use.”

  Wriothesley looked uncomfortable, but Pasgen knew that when his own hide was at stake, he would not hesitate to implicate, much less question, a child. “You say you know Queen Catherine guilty and that there is no hope her guilt will not be proven?”

  Pasgen nodded gravely. “That is what I read when I look at her future.”

  Wriothesley sighed deeply. “I would have saved her if I could. The king’s mood—except for that time when he was sick—has been so mild since they married. And this queen was no wild-eyed reformer pressing him to strip more and more from the Church. But it would not do for me to close my eyes to what is plain to all others.”

  “No, it would not.” Pasgen leaned forward to underscore his words, gazing at Wriothesley intently. “And if, for example, during those ‘innocent’ games played with the Lady Elizabeth in attendance, the queen sent the child away before the gentlemen left, and no one thought to ask that question … It is my advice that you mention to the king the fact that the Lady Elizabeth may have been used by the queen before someone else speaks of it. Offer to question the child gently so that she will not suspect the reason or suspect what use may be made of her tales.”

  Wriothesley was silent, biting his lips gently for a moment. Then he said, “I have had occasion to speak with Lady Elizabeth in the past. She may be only eight, but she is very clever. I am not at all sure she will not gue
ss my purpose and be silent or even lie. She loves the queen.”

  “Oh, I can assure you she will tell you the truth and all the truth.” Pasgen smiled.

  “You can?” Wriothesley looked skeptical.

  Interesting, Pasgen thought. The child must be remarkable indeed, if a grown man did not think he could have the truth out of her. “You will ask her to swear on the Bible, will you not?” Pasgen asked.

  Wriothesley nodded. “Yes, of course. But—”

  Pasgen interrupted. “You will bring with you a Bible with a tooled and bejeweled binding. One of those jewels will be an amulet that will force the truth from the child.”

  “I had no idea you could prepare such a device!” Wriothesley’s eyes gleamed with interest.

  Pasgen shook his head. “With good reason,” he said giving his lips a wry twist. “Because I cannot. I was not idle in the years I traveled. Some new things I learned, but I was also able to purchase artifacts from magicians with skills other than mine. This amulet was one of the things I found, but its use is limited. The truth spell can be used only once. Then its force will be expended, so keep it covered until you ask Elizabeth to swear to tell the truth.”

  “I will be careful,” Wriothesley said fervently, his expression a mix of disappointment that the amulet had only one use, and relief that there was such a thing that could have the truth out of someone. “But how can the amulet be set into the cover of the Bible if it cannot be touched by anyone?”

  Pasgen shrugged. “There are many ways. The wearing of gloves when setting it into the cover is the simplest. But I will deal with that. When you are ready to leave London to question the Lady Elizabeth, I will give you the book and cover all prepared.”

  “The book must be a Bible,” Wriothesley warned. “Lady Elizabeth is very likely to open it and look through for some verse she thinks will help.”

  “Oh, yes,” Pasgen assured him. “Should it be in Latin or English?”