Ill Met by Moonlight

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Yes,” Jane agreed, her expression changing from deliberate blandness to thoughtfulness; her glance at Rhoslyn perhaps held even a touch of gratitude. “I remember how much joy the prince took in Lady Mary’s visits when he was younger. Now that we are so close and a visit does not mean a whole cavalcade and elaborate arrangements, it would be delightful to see more of the boy.”

  “Indeed.” Rhoslyn curtseyed again. “I agree with you with all my heart, Mistress Dormer. It would be good for Lady Mary to have her family truly about her again, and good for the prince to have Lady Mary to emulate. Lady Elizabeth makes a charming friend for him, but a child should have an adult as a proper model.”

  Returning to her own chamber—which was small and high under the roof, but private, and thus a mark of great favor (since most of Mary’s attendants were bundled together four to a chamber not much larger)—Rhoslyn allowed her maid to undress her and make her ready for bed. Reviewing what she had done, she was well satisfied.

  Doubtless Mary would repeat what she had said to Jane, and Mistress Dormer, as passionately and even more cautiously devoted to the old religion than Mary, would understand Rhoslyn’s hints more quickly. Queen Catherine obviously had reformist leanings and Elizabeth was absorbing those from the queen and from her teachers … and drawing Edward along with her.

  Now Mary would try to replace Elizabeth in Edward’s affections and counteract the influence of the queen and his teachers on his religious opinions. She would doubtless fail, since it was unlikely that Edward, already showing the headstrong nature of the Tudors, would be moved from the course on which his small feet were set. Edward’s stubbornness would make Mary even more resentful of Elizabeth. That would make her quick to accept and believe any ill tales about Elizabeth. And ill tales there would be.

  Rhoslyn sipped the tisane her maid had brought her and considered which of the boys being schooled with the king’s children she should implant with the need to spy on Elizabeth. There were more than a dozen of them. Of those, three or four were too young, playmates and fellow scholars for the seven-year-old prince. All of the younger ones were overseen very strictly; it was unlikely that they could observe Elizabeth without drawing notice.

  Two of the boys were more likely to run to the queen or one of their teachers and complain that they had been asked to spy by one of Mary’s ladies. Lord Strange, already imbued with reformist principles and eager to find fault with Mary, and Henry Brandon because of his pride in being close to the king, a nephew, and rather besotted with Elizabeth.

  That left the cadre of five older boys, all of whom were intent on gaining Edward’s affection—which made a difficulty, as Edward was very fond of his sister and would not thank anyone who made trouble for her. Francis, Lord Russell, was the eldest, but he was so strong a reformist that he would not wish to oblige anyone in Mary’s party. The two most likely for her purpose were Lord Stafford and Lord Mountjoy.

  Rhoslyn put aside her cup, slid down under the coverlet … and sighed. She tried to be comfortable on the lumpy mattress and thought of her cloud-soft bed Underhill. She wondered whether saving Elizabeth was worth all this anxiety and discomfort. Perhaps she should just let Pasgen kill the child.

  The breath caught in her throat. Saving Elizabeth was not for Elizabeth’s sake. If the girl fell into Aurelia’s hands, death would be far kinder. It was about Pasgen. If Pasgen could murder a child without a thought … She would not think of that. Nothing could be done until the twelve days of celebration were over, but after that she would choose one of the two boys who would best serve her purpose.

  Rhoslyn did not even need to remind Mary about the need to make Edward love her. On the seventh of January 1544 she learned, when she was admitted to Lady Mary’s apartment, that Mary had sent a message that she would like to visit the prince. A cordial invitation had been received in reply, and they were to go soon after breaking their fasts.

  Rhoslyn was faced with a dilemma. If she went with Mary there was a chance that the little devil Elizabeth would see her and cry out, but if she went, there was also the opportunity to watch both boys. In the end she decided to go, only taking the precaution of raising so heavy a shield that all her magic was trapped within. If her essence as Sidhe did not leak out, there would be nothing to draw Elizabeth’s attention.

  Elizabeth was said to be very circumspect in her behavior now. Rhoslyn thought that even if she was unlucky and Elizabeth noticed her and saw through the illusions that made her look human, the child might not raise an alarm. No, of course she would not. Surely she would not be willing to point out attributes that no one else could see on one of Mary’s ladies-in-waiting.

  Both decisions were the right ones. Rhoslyn was reasonably sure that Elizabeth had not noticed her among the gaggle of ladies that accompanied Mary to the nursery schoolroom; certainly the child said and did nothing unusual. And it was immediately apparent that Lord Stafford would serve her purpose best. His expression was calculating, as if he measured every person and situation for the best advantage to himself. A perfectly natural result of the execution of his father, the duke of Buckingham, Rhoslyn thought. The sentence had been for treason and the attainder that followed had cost Stafford all his father’s estates. Stafford needed preferment from someone, and he was old enough to know it, but young enough to be reckless about whom he sought it from.

  Mountjoy, on the other hand, seemed rather uninterested in those around him, working some strange formulas at a small table near the windows. To make him attend closely to what Elizabeth said and did would be against his natural inclination

  Tomorrow she would find Stafford and bespell him. The spell she planned to use would be very small and unobtrusive. It would not twist the boy’s mind or nature, only intensify his natural desire to learn all he could about those likely to have power, and it would center that interest on Elizabeth rather than Prince Edward.

  Soon Rhoslyn was assured that her spell would draw no attention, because it would have little effect on Stafford’s normal behavior. Without any spell she saw that Stafford watched intently when Edward brought something he had written to his sister, who laughed and kissed him and told him he was a wonder. The child glowed with pleasure, and Rhoslyn saw that Stafford noted that also.

  Mary saw the same little byplay, and she joined her two half-siblings. But Mary was no scholar, at least not in the class of those two precocious royal creatures. She frowned when Elizabeth, still laughing, challenged Edward to turn the Latin sentence he had brought to her into Greek and gave him three words to start.

  Edward was silent, considering, his lips pursed as if he were about to kiss Elizabeth. And Mary made the mistake of saying—as if she thought that Edward would not be able to rise to Elizabeth’s challenge—that Edward was indeed a wonder but he should rather play at tennis, for which the other boys were making ready.

  Elizabeth laughed again. “Do you think he cannot do both? Dear Edward does not need to study for an hour to make a Greek sentence.”

  Rhoslyn saw Mary change color when Edward laughed too, and spouted a dozen words, which made Elizabeth clap her hands and kiss his cheek. And seemingly, having her accolade he waited for no more, but ran to join his fellows, who had collected his raquette and balls as well as their own, and were obviously waiting for him to go to the tennis court.

  For a long moment Elizabeth and Mary stood confronting each other in the near-empty room. Then Elizabeth curtsied and said in a soft, apologetic voice, “He does so love his books and takes such pleasure in his learning. And you saw that he ran away to take his exercise.”

  “Yes, of course,” Mary replied stiffly. “I am sure you wish your brother no harm.”

  “No! No, indeed I do not,” Elizabeth said with passionate sincerity. “I wish him health and strength and wisdom and all the good that can possibly befall anyone.”

  “As do I, naturally.”

  Mary’s voice was so cold that Elizabeth stared at her in consternation, and then, recalling
that Mary was Edward’s heir and might be suspected of not wishing him well, compounded her crime by blushing violently.

  “No one could doubt it,” Jane Dormer said, stepping forward smartly and glaring at Elizabeth.

  “Never!” Elizabeth exclaimed, but her glance had for one instant passed over Mary’s shoulder when Jane Dormer moved, and she shivered slightly as she brought her gaze back to her sister’s face. “So loving a sister you have always been to him, and, indeed, to me for all the years of my life.”

  Rhoslyn was annoyed with both Mary and Jane Dormer for frightening Elizabeth. The child needed to be confident to act or speak with boldness. If she felt threatened she would commit none of the faux pas that could bring her father’s wrath down on her head. With her magic confined, there was nothing Rhoslyn could do, but Mary still retained some of the fondness she had felt when Elizabeth was a babe. Seeing her sister’s painful blush, Mary changed the subject to an inquiry about Elizabeth’s musical education.

  Before Elizabeth could reply, loud shouts and laughter drifted back to the ladies from the open door of the tennis court and Jane, with a single glance at Elizabeth, urged Mary to go and see how well her brother did. Mary hesitated just for a moment and then invited Elizabeth to accompany them.

  Elizabeth thanked her with what seemed to be sincerity but, smiling and curtseying deeply, excused herself. She explained that she generally worked with her needle during the time that Edward played games with his male friends.

  “I would gladly accompany you to watch Edward play,” she said, with evident sincerity, “except that I have started work on Edward’s Christmas gift and fear any delay.”

  Mary seemed to take no umbrage at this excuse and bestowed a pleasant smile on Elizabeth as she and her ladies walked away. Elizabeth stood staring after her sister and her attendants, her eyes following one of the women who seemed to be trying to keep in the center of the group.

  “It’s all right, love,” Blanche Parry whispered in Elizabeth’s ear. “She didn’t mean any harm to you. Who knows what’s in her heart that she regrets and causes her pain? She knows you didn’t mean anything more than that you love Edward and wish him well.”

  “It wasn’t Mary. It was that other lady,” Elizabeth murmured in reply.

  “You mean Jane Dormer? Jane will do you no harm. She only loves Lady Mary and is quick in her defense.”

  “No, not Jane. I know Jane well. The other one. The dark-haired one who always seemed to be trying to raise her hood to hide herself … and I know why.” Elizabeth shivered.

  “You are cold, m’lady,” Blanche said a little too loudly so that anyone possibly watching from concealment would hear. “Come back to your chamber and I will find a warmer gown.”

  Elizabeth pulled on her cloak and followed Blanche at once, but as soon as they were in her bedchamber with the door closed, she said, “I must speak to Lord Denno. Go down to the stables and bid Ladbroke find some excuse to ride into London so that he can tell Denno to come at once.”

  “Come? Come where?” Blanche asked softly. “Mistress Champernowne has not yet requested that he be put on a visitor’s list because the prince’s officers have not yet submitted one. He has to see a place before he can come to it.”

  “Does he?” Elizabeth uttered a stifled sob. “Tell Ladbroke to describe the maze to him. Perhaps that will do. If not, I will have to … oh, I do not know what, but I know we are in danger.”

  “What danger?” Blanche frowned suddenly, as if recalling an uneasiness that she had not previously thought was of any importance. “Grace of God, then I did feel something. But it was so small, so …”

  “It was one of the others, the bad ones.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I only caught one glimpse of her face and I could see—you know what I could see. I must speak to Denno. I must tell him.”

  “Ladbroke will tell him that you saw one of the Fair Folk in Lady Mary’s entourage. He must know that at once!” She drew a deep breath, wringing her hands. “Oh, my lady, my lady, I fear I am useless to you. I did not feel her presence at all—and I should have. She was not so far from us. Even if I could not see her because she hid herself among the other women, I should have felt her.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “I did not feel her either,” she whispered. “It was only when Jane stepped forward so suddenly that I saw the woman behind her and I saw … her ears and her eyes. Oh, heaven, Denno must come.”

  “Yes, yes. Ladbroke will do his best, you know that.” Blanche stared into nothing, thinking for a moment. “But, think, my love, it may not be one of the evil ones. It is not impossible that a watch is being kept on Lady Mary. Lord Denno will know. And for now, you do just as you said. Take up your needle and work on embroidering the book cover. Dunstan will watch over you.”

  Elizabeth was trembling again, and Dunstan, who had to be in and out on his duties, could not sit with the child. Nor could Kat Champernowne, who—unaware of any unusual circumstance—had gone into London on some private business. After one look at the wide-eyed, pale-faced girl, Dunstan summoned Gerrit into the room. The guardsman’s familiar, bulky presence was immediately comforting, especially because Elizabeth knew he was wearing the amulet that protected him from sleep spells. And Dickson, Elizabeth reminded herself, similarly protected, was watching outside the chamber door.

  For further comfort she recalled the unsuitable demands she had made of her faithful guardsmen as a baby and teased Gerrit that she needed help in winding embroidery silks. Only once did Gerrit’s eyes flick to Blanche, who was pale and fingering the iron crosses under her gown. Then he nodded brusquely, moved his sword so his draw would be unimpeded and held out his thick hands for the skein of delicate silk. Elizabeth blinked back tears and began to wind the bright threads onto small silver spools.

  Fortunately, there was no family dinner and Kat was dining with a cousin in town, because Elizabeth could eat nothing. However, her suspense did not last much longer; Ladbroke returned soon after the uneaten meal was taken away with a flat packet wrapped in a clean cloth.

  “Your ribbons, m’lady,” he said. “Sorry it took so long, but the fool of a merchant didn’t understand that they were to be only of three colors to mark the passages in the maze. I hope he chose what would best be visible, but he did suggest that you take them into the maze when you walk there this afternoon to be sure you will be able to see them.”

  Elizabeth blinked. Ribbons? She had ordered no ribbons. And to mark the passages in the maze would be a sad cheat. But she had known from the age of three how to hold her tongue and she only nodded as he handed over the packet. He proffered it carefully so that Elizabeth’s hands were forced to take hold in a certain way, and Elizabeth’s breath eased out as she felt something hard, flat, and oval under the cover cloth.

  She needed no further explanation. That must be an amulet that would “call” to Denno so he would know where to open a gate. She smiled up at the groom.

  “Thank you, Ladbroke. I shall certainly take the ribbons with me when I go for a walk this afternoon.”

  “And m’lady,” Ladbroke said, with emphasis, “If you have any trouble seeing the color, he said to wait a few moments until your eyes adjust and look again.”

  She nodded as emphatically as he had spoken. “I will surely follow that advice, Ladbroke. Now you may go and have your own dinner. I am sorry it is so late.”

  The groom glanced at Gerrit, still holding a skein of silk; he did not laugh. He nodded to the guardsman, bowed to Elizabeth. “It is a pleasure to serve you, m’lady.”

  Elizabeth let the packet lie on her lap while she finished winding up the skein of silk that Gerrit was holding. Then she thanked the guardsman, made a little joke about the odd tasks that came from serving a lady, and dismissed him.

  But all the while she had been wondering why Ladbroke was talking about ribbons and marking the maze instead of just telling her that Denno would meet her in the maze during her afternoon walk. And why had Ladbroke not simp
ly handed her the amulet instead of concealing it in the packet of ribbons?

  She was certain Ladbroke was acting on Denno’s instructions and that those instructions had been given because neither she nor Blanche had been able to sense the Sidhe who had been with Mary. The secrecy raised her fears again. Denno was warning her that if they could not sense the dark Sidhe they would also not be able to sense any watchers.

  Elizabeth swallowed. That meant the Sidhe knew she and Blanche could sense magic and that she could see through illusion; the watcher would be well hidden. But if the watcher could feel the amulet … or, no. Elizabeth remembered that she had been warned a strong enough shield would prevent her from feeling magic.

  So, if the watcher was shielded so strongly that it could not feel the amulet’s magic, the watcher would not be able to sense the amulet as being magical. The watcher would be able to see what she did and hear what she said but if the amulet seemed to be an old possession, it would not tell the Sidhe the amulet was a “caller.” Elizabeth rose, clutching the packet carefully so the amulet would not slip out.

  “You are right, Blanche,” Elizabeth said to her maid, who was sitting near her arranging the spools in a workbasket. “I was a little chilled this morning. I will need my warmest cloak and gown, but I still wish to take my walk this afternoon.”

  “Why do you not change at once, then. You look quite pale with the cold. It is so kind of you, Lady Elizabeth, to make a trail that Prince Edward will be able to follow by tying ribbons to the paths in the maze.”

  Elizabeth smiled gratefully at Blanche, who had provided a reasonable excuse for marking paths in the maze. She was too old to need such help, but it was reasonable that she would not want her little brother to be lost and frightened.

  “Quite right. Let us go and look over my gowns.”

  In the safety of her bedchamber, with the doors of the wardrobe open to shield any view from either side and her own body blocking the view from the front, Elizabeth knelt to open the packet she had laid on a footstool. There were half a dozen narrow ribbons in each of bright crimson, bright blue, and bright yellow.