Ill Met by Moonlight

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Latin!” Wriothesley snapped, rising from his chair. “A Bible in English is an abomination.”

  On those words, to which Pasgen replied only with a low laugh, he rang for a servant who came and saw Wriothesley out. When he was sure he was alone, Pasgen opened a drawer in the table and withdrew a large book in a beautiful binding. The leather was intricately tooled into a lacelike design as a border. The face of the binding was worked into a large cross decorated with Celtic knots, which was gilded. At the ends of each of the arms was a small gold plaque bearing the symbols of the evangelists. And set into the center of the cross was what might have been a large bloodstone, almost black until it caught a gleam of light, which lit in the stone thin, crawling veins of red.

  Pasgen did not touch the stone. He had tested it on a mortal servant, who had died by his own hand a week later. The spell was designed not to work immediately—that would have raised suspicions against Wriothesley, and Pasgen still found him useful.

  It did not hold a truth spell, but it did not matter much whether Elizabeth told the truth or not, since she would not live long enough for her testimony to be used.

  Chapter 10

  Mistress Champernowne was even more grateful to Lord Denno than usual—and her normal state was complete reliance on him—when at the end of the first week in November she received a peremptory order to remove Lady Elizabeth from Hunsdon and return to Hatfield. If not for Lord Denno’s precaution and generosity they would have arrived at Hatfield virtually bereft of servants and with no way to find well-trained help.

  Instructed and funded by Lord Denno, Dunstan had been able to pay a retainer to most of the staff. Many had returned to their families and so found the small monthly fee sufficient to support them; others had found work but were willing to leave those positions for the more prestigious places in the household of the king’s daughter. A few had to be replaced, but Dunstan seemed to have no difficulty in finding an experienced laundry maid and cleaner for Lady Elizabeth’s bedchamber.

  In any event, when Secretary Wriothesley arrived late in November, the household was comfortably settled and running smoothly. Mistress Champernowne could greet Sir Thomas with composure and show him into Elizabeth’s private reception chamber, where refreshments swiftly arrived.

  Her composure was only slightly disturbed when Wriothesley began to ask questions about the time they had spent at court at the queen’s invitation. The investigation into Catherine’s promiscuity had been kept so secret that no rumor of it had reached Hatfield. Mistress Champernowne could only conclude that the queen was asking for Elizabeth to come to her again and the king’s secretary had been dispatched to be sure Elizabeth was willing and whether her time had been properly employed.

  Thus Mistress Champernowne enthusiastically reported that Elizabeth, who loved her books, had continued her studies while at court. They had been slowed, of course, by the small entertainments designed to amuse the queen and divert her from worry about her ailing husband; however Elizabeth had made progress, since her time was most occupied by the queen in the evenings when the child would not have been studying in any case.

  “And did you accompany Lady Elizabeth to the queen’s apartment in the evening?”

  Kat colored faintly. “I was not invited, Sir Thomas, but you must not think that Lady Elizabeth was not properly attended. Lady Rochefort always came to fetch her and always brought her back.” She sighed. “I could have wished that the child was sent away earlier so that she could have had a longer night’s sleep—but then, nights are very long in February, so Lady Elizabeth was not deprived of her rest.”

  Wriothesley tilted his head to the side. “Then you are not aware of the entertainment that took place within the queen’s apartment?”

  Kat considered this. Was he seeking to learn if Elizabeth had betrayed some information of a privy sort? “I was not there, but to some extent I do know, since Lady Elizabeth usually told me what they did.”

  “And that was?” Wriothesley leaned forward as if to catch every word.

  Kat could not imagine why. Queen Catherine was hardly the sort to bother her pretty head about anything that was of a serious nature. “Well, the queen is very young,” she said indulgently. “Sometimes they had musicians or a poet to read to them, but mostly I fear they played silly games with cards and marked bones. And for silly forfeits too, not money,” she added, lest Wriothesley think that the pocket money given to Elizabeth’s household had been gambled away.

  Wriothesley continued his intent regard. Kat felt uneasy. “And do you know who the ‘they’ involved were?”

  Did he think that Elizabeth had been exposed to some mean person of no rank? “The queen, of course, and Lady Rochefort and Lady Elizabeth. Francis Dereham, a cousin of the queen’s, was often with them and a young gentleman of the king’s Privy Chamber … ah … yes, Thomas Culpepper.”

  He continued to stare at her. She wished he would have done. “None of the queen’s other ladies?”

  Kat shook her head. How was she to know all this? “Very likely they came and went but did not join the games, which is why Lady Elizabeth did not mention them, but Lady Elizabeth and the others played in the queen’s inner rooms, right next to her bedchamber because they did not wish any noise they made to disturb the king.”

  “They did not wish to disturb the king?” Wriothesley’s tone was a trifle strange, and Kat looked at him questioningly, but he only cleared his throat.

  “The king had been ill and was recovering only slowly,” Kat said. “He needed his rest. I think the queen feared that hearing them laugh and cry out over the cards might make him restless and sad—feeling left out because of his weakness, you know.”

  “Ah,” Wriothesley said and then, “If you please, would you ask Lady Elizabeth if she would join me here … and in private.”

  The request for privacy made Kat more uneasy, but Lord Thomas Wriothesley was the king’s own secretary and surely would do the king’s daughter no harm. Kat sighed a little as she went to fetch the girl, for Elizabeth was almost too clever. Thus all she said was that Sir Thomas wished to know whether Elizabeth had enjoyed her stay at court and the company of the queen.

  While Elizabeth made small adjustments to her clothing and examined her hair and headdress to be sure she was neat, Wriothesley removed the Bible from the saddlebag in which he had carried it and laid it on the small table that stood between two chairs facing the hearth in which a generous fire burned.

  Kat’s explanation, coming so soon after Henry and Catherine had returned to Hampton Court, aroused in Elizabeth the same misapprehension as that of her governess. She came into the reception room smiling demurely. Sir Thomas rose at once and bowed; Elizabeth made a small curtsey to Sir Thomas, came forward to the chairs, and prepared to seat herself.

  “One moment, please, my lady,” Sir Thomas said. “I know this will seem silly to you and likely it is silly, but as the secretary to the king, I must be able to write a report in which I attest that what is said is true. Thus, if you would just swear on this Holy Book to tell the truth … ?”

  He stepped back so that Elizabeth could see the gilded and bejeweled book on the table. A wave of revulsion made her hesitate, but the firelight was awakening strands and bursts of gleaming red in the black stone at the center of the cross and Elizabeth found herself fascinated. She took another step forward.

  “It is only a formality, my lady,” Wriothesley urged.

  Revulsion still made an uneasy quiver in Elizabeth’s middle, but she told herself that such a peculiar feeling was ridiculous. The book was beautiful. There was nothing about it to turn her stomach. She took another step closer. The red threads in the stone seemed to dance, to beckon her.

  “It is a Bible, is it not?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Indeed it is, my lady. Please feel free to examine the book any way you want.” Sir Thomas laughed lightly. “It would not do me much good to have you swear on a collection of verse, now would it?”

/>   Feeling very foolish, Elizabeth flipped open the volume. The familiar words leapt out at her, and she was immediately more at ease. She read a phrase, a sentence, turned more pages. It was indeed a beautiful book, carefully printed and with colored capitals and some key words overdone by hand in gold. Just the Bible, from beginning to end, because driven by caution she did look at the last few pages as well as riffling through to make sure nothing was concealed.

  She smiled up apologetically at Sir Thomas. “It is so very beautiful,” she said, “I could not resist looking through it,” and closed the book.

  The breath caught in her throat and she stepped back, only to tread on Sir Thomas’s foot. He was right behind her.

  “Just put your hand on the cross and swear to tell the truth,” he said sharply. “You do not want to have me need to say to your father that you were unwilling to swear on the Bible to tell the truth.”

  “Of course I will tell the truth,” Elizabeth said, so outraged that she laid her hand on the book at once. A sharp tingle ran from her palm, which had touched the strange stone, down to her fingers, and unconsciously she arched her hand upward. “Indeed, Sir Thomas, I cannot imagine what you think I have to lie about.”

  Sir Thomas laughed loudly and shook his head. “Nothing, my lady. I know from your governess that you are a good girl and did not even allow your stay in court to seriously interrupt your studies.” He bowed again. “Do be seated, my lady, if you please.”

  She boosted herself up into the closest chair. The tingling was gone from her fingers but she still held her hand out toward the fire as if the heat would cleanse it.

  “Oh, well,” she said, “it was the middle of the winter, you know, and too cold to do much out of doors. And I had little to do most of the day, so it was no great burden to go on with my lessons. Anyway, I like reading Caesar. His memoir of the wars in France is quite exciting.”

  “I found them so myself, my lady. But Mistress Champernowne says that you were quite gay in the evenings. Not that there is anything amiss in that. A pleasant relief after working hard all day is surely a reward for virtue.”

  “I did enjoy being with the queen, Sir Thomas,” she said, politely, wondering why he was staring at her so. “And I was greatly honored by her attention. I know she was worried about my father, the king’s majesty, and we did what we could to relieve her anxiety.”

  “All her ladies, you mean?” Wriothesley asked sharply, hoping Elizabeth would say yes. Her evidence could not save Catherine, but it might not blacken her further.

  “No,” Elizabeth amended, “The queen thought that if we were a large crowd we would make too much noise. And she is not too fond of needlework, so she set the ladies at that and withdrew with me and Lady Rochefort and Thomas Culpepper.”

  “And Francis Dereham?” He watched her so closely that Elizabeth began to feel concerned.

  “Oh, yes,” she said carefully, “He was there most of the time, but he was very quiet. It was Master Culpepper who made the queen laugh the most.”

  “And did he make you laugh also?” The look had not changed, so whatever he was waiting to hear, she had not yet said it.

  “Sometimes,” Elizabeth said with a little hesitation, “but I was attending closely to my cards, which was why I won so many forfeits.”

  “Do you remember what made the queen laugh the most?”

  What could possibly be wrong about making the queen laugh? Did he expect her to have heard something treasonous? “Not really,” she told him, pretending indifference. “Something I remember about balls and bowls but I admit I did not see anything specially funny about it. Perhaps I did not understand.”

  “Did they ever speak of the king’s majesty?”

  Ah. Elizabeth was on firmer ground now and she was sure of what to say. “Oh, often.” She smiled brightly. “The queen heartily wished him well again and deplored his continued weakness. She … she was looking forward to the progress they would make.”

  Wriothesley detected the hesitation and frowned. “You promised to tell all the truth,” he urged.

  Elizabeth sighed. “She was bored, Sir Thomas. She wished there was more diversion.”

  Elizabeth knew it was the queen’s duty to be satisfied and happy just to be in the king’s presence. She felt guilty about admitting that Catherine did not find Henry alone enough, that she longed for the feasts and the masques and the music and dancing that had enlivened the court when she and Henry were first married. To be confined to Hampton Court when most of the nobles had fled was trying Catherine’s patience.

  Noting the child’s unwillingness to admit any fault in the queen, and finding the fault she admitted so innocent made Wriothesley much happier. Otstargi’s amulet was certainly working, since Lady Elizabeth had given evidence she did not want to give, and the evidence would do the queen no harm.

  “Queen Catherine is very young,” Wriothesley said. “It is not surprising that she should find Hampton Court dull during the dreary winter.”

  This tacit pardon of Catherine’s imperfection gave Elizabeth so much relief that she babbled happily about the games and the forfeits and, eventually, about Lady Rochefort taking her off to bed while the gentlemen—sometimes both sometimes only one, Culpepper—remained in the queen’s chamber.

  Sir Thomas questioned her more particularly about leaving the queen with the gentlemen, and she did her best to satisfy him, but, as she pointed out somewhat impatiently, she was gone from the chamber by then. How could she tell anything about what more was done and said within? No, she did not think they continued to play at cards as more than two hands were needed for the game. Possibly Francis Dereham who was musical played for them or read poetry.

  All the while the strange stone, sometimes sparking with red lights as the fire leapt, attracted her at the same time that she wished to cover it up and push it away. Several times she reached toward it and twice actually touched it with the tip of a finger. Sir Thomas smiled at her each time, and certainly did not forbid her. Nonetheless, each time she found the touch vaguely unpleasant, and yet the stone was smooth and dry; how could there be anything unpleasant about a pretty stone?

  Eventually Sir Thomas could find no more questions to ask. He thanked Elizabeth for her time and patience and took his leave, wrapping up and taking the Bible with him. Just before he covered it, Elizabeth, watching the crawling streaks and bursts of red in the dark stone, almost asked him to leave the book with her. When he covered it, however, she heaved a big sigh of relief and barely returned his bow with a nod of her head.

  Later when Kat wondered why Sir Thomas had needed to question her so minutely but spoke hopefully of their being summoned to court by the queen, Elizabeth felt briefly uneasy. The anxiety passed, however, and she went about her daily life with a pleasant feeling of anticipation. Neither she nor Kat told Denoriel about Wriothesley’s visit or what they believed to be its purpose. Both knew that Lord Denno was not happy about their sojourns at court and wished to put off as long as possible any mention of the approach of what he called his misery of loneliness.

  Denoriel, who was well aware of the accusations against the queen from worried and frightened conversations he was never meant to overhear between Norfolk and his relatives, did not speak of the court nor the accusations to Elizabeth and Kat. However, once Dereham and Culpepper were brought to trial on December first, there was no keeping the secret any longer.

  Since he knew of Elizabeth’s fondness for Queen Catherine, Denoriel was not surprised that she reacted violently, but he had not expected the degree of fear and fury that overcame her. Her first impulse was to “slay the messenger” by flying into a near-hysterical rage. He should have warned her, she cried. See what came of not warning her, of trying to keep her ignorant. Because of that she had told Wriothesley things that not only could be used against the queen but might end in her own trial and execution.

  “Ridiculous!” Denoriel exclaimed and Kat echoed him. “You cannot have told Wriothesley an
ything incriminating, either about the queen or about yourself.” He turned to Kat. “When was he here? What did he say? Could you not have stopped him from frightening Lady Elizabeth?”

  “He insisted on a private interview,” Kat faltered. “He is the king’s secretary. I could not refuse.”

  Denoriel’s lips parted and then closed. He reached out and took Elizabeth’s hand and stroked it. “My lady,” he murmured, “you must not allow yourself to be so overset. From what you told me about your time with the queen, neither you nor she did anything or said anything that could be faulted. The games, the forfeits, these were all innocent. Unless—was there something you did not tell me or Mistress Champernowne?”

  “No! But what I told you was enough! Master Culpepper kissed her hand and her wrist and forearm too! And I left them alone together more than once.”

  “But, Lady Elizabeth, you could do nothing else when the queen dismissed you,” Kat cried. “You are only a little girl. You are not expected to understand such things. It was Lady Rochefort who was to blame, if anything done was wrong. But even she could not gainsay a dismissal from the queen. No blame will fall upon you.”

  “Yes it will! I should have told someone. I should have …” Her voice dropped to nothing and then rose hysterically. “They will try me and chop off my head!”

  “Love,” Denoriel murmured, taking her hands in his, “I swear to you that no harm will come to you. You are innocent, but even if you were not, no harm would come to you. If worse comes to worst, I will take you to your Da and he will protect you.”

  Elizabeth clutched Denoriel’s hands. Hers were cold and shaking but she drew warmth out of his and the terror that had increasingly knotted her throat and roiled her belly diminished. To be safe in her half-brother’s arms. Yes, she would be safe. There would be no need to kill herself, to jump from the wall or one of the towers and thus end her life quickly and without shame.

  Kat looked puzzled when Denoriel called King Henry ‘Da’ but she saw the expression of relief smooth Elizabeth’s pinched features; she assumed it was just a reminder of a relationship that was not totally formal, where personal affection could overrule strict justice.