by April Taylor
“Sir, I know not how he gains entry. He will use his sorcery, will he not?”
Frayner dropped him on the floor and Rob thought it wiser to stay there, rubbing his knee where it had landed on the unforgiving stone. His best course of action was to remain quiet and see where the priest’s musings took him.
“You may be right, scoundrel,” Frayner said.
“I am, sir.” Rob paused. “Sir, you promised the girl to me if I gave the apothecary up. I have done that. Can you tell me where she is?”
“How do I know I can trust you? I have encountered your sort before. You would lie as easily as you breathe.”
“I swear I am not lying, sir.” Rob allowed his voice to grow sullen. “You promised me the girl. Who is the liar now?”
With a speed that left Rob breathless, Frayner’s staff swished through the air and caught him a stinging blow on the side of his head. Whilst he was still dazed, he felt himself half lifted, half dragged along the stone corridor and down some steps. A jangle of keys preceded the sound of a door opening, and without further ado, Rob was thrown against the wall opposite the door. When he turned round to look, Frayner stood in the doorway, one hand on the handle.
“You may occupy your soul in waiting until the others are arrested and you join them. Addlepated knave. Did you really believe I would spend valuable time saving the worthless skin of a varlet such as you? The insignificant servant of a known necromancer? You may stay here whilst I set my plans.”
“What about Alys?”
Rob could hear the anger in Frayner’s voice.
“Alys? Alys? You are like a prating coxcomb with but one idea in your head. I neither know nor care where he has hidden the slut. If she is lucky she will already be dead. My task is to take Ballard together with Quayne and his arrogant daughter. You have plenty of time to repent your sins before you join them on the scaffold. I shall dance with joy when I see you all frisking on the end of a rope. Think on that whilst I am gone.”
Rob heard the key turn in the lock and the receding sound of footsteps.
* * *
Luke’s difficulty with the misremembrance potion had occupied his mind for some time. He wondered how they would persuade the ladies to drink it but also pondered the ratio of ingredients to mix. Usually an apothecary formulated his medicine for one person, taking into account their humor as well as their physical appearance. What would be effective on the King would overwhelm Queen Anne, she being small and finely built and he topping six feet with shoulders to match.
In the end, Luke had followed his instinct with regard to ratios. As far as he was concerned, the mix of the potion was secondary. Convincing the ladies to drink it was key. Without that, they were lost before they had begun.
It was Gwenette Paige who solved the problem when Luke explained his difficulty.
“Madam,” she said to her mistress. “Why do I not take this round as a drink that the King’s cook has made especially to please the Queen and her ladies? It could be done from the kindness of his heart to try and ease their tedium.”
“Bless you, Gwenette, once again, you prove your quickness of mind,” Luke said before Queen Anne could reply. “I think that an excellent notion.”
“As do I,” the Queen Mother said with a wry smile on her face. “Marry, Master Ballard, I little thought I would ever hear you praise the wit of a lady.”
Luke felt his face flame and merely bowed. Dufay, who seemed oblivious to the exchange, took jars and packets from his bag.
“Luke, I shall need you and Her Grace to hold the stones and each corner of the shroud once I have made it.”
“But it needs to cover the entire area of the Queen’s apartments, sir.”
Dufay looked up and scowled. “Not hold them literally, Luke. Where are your wits?”
“I pray pardon, sir. I am uneasy about Rob and Alys as well as Corbin and Bertila.”
Dufay’s head turned quickly. “The Quaynes. Why do you worry about them?”
“I do not trust Frayner. He has tried once. He will try again.”
“Father Frayner knows the household is under my protection, Luke.”
“And you think that will stop him if he is the sunderer we seek?”
Dufay’s hands stopped their fumbling in the bag. His voice was low and clear but Luke had the impression that the Elemagus was forcing himself to a calm he did not feel.
“That is the direction of your thoughts?”
“I am not certain. It is a possibility.”
“Then the sooner we safeguard the Queen, the better, and afterward, I shall go to Master Quayne’s house and satisfy myself as to their safety.” He looked at Luke as if to gauge the apothecary’s reaction. “That way, you will be clear from any anxiety on their account and can continue with your investigation.”
“That would indeed take a great weight from my mind, sir,” Luke said with a smile.
Despite his spurt of amusement, Luke spoke truly. Dufay was of no use when it came to one-on-one confrontation, but Luke could enter into battle with a lighter heart knowing that Bertila and Corbin were protected. That left just Rob and Alys. Of the two, he worried more about Alys. Nimrod had her secreted somewhere on hand for the reckoning with Luke that must come. Would he use the girl as a conduit to Edith’s soul? And if so, for what fell purpose?
That thought caused Luke more than a flutter of apprehension. If anything happened to Alys, Luke had no doubts that although Rob would stay with him, he would never trust the apothecary again. Provided he was still alive, Luke reminded himself. There, it was happening again. He was allowing the distractions set up by Nimrod to turn him from his purpose just at the moment when he needed every ounce of concentration. With an effort that weighed heavy on his soul, Luke put Rob and Alys from his mind and prepared himself.
When he entered the chamber within a chamber, Queen Madeleine reclined on the bed, giggling with two of the gossips. The Queen Mother stood just inside the door watching them.
“Master Ballard, I think they are ready now. The potion has taken effect. Shall I perform the other part of the misremembrance spell and you observe?”
“Aye, Your Grace, remember to be as quick as you can so that the aether is not disturbed.”
“I’ll add in the silence element, too,” she replied. “Having them chatter would be fatal to our plans.”
He found the Queen Mother to be as slick and compact in her magic as she was in all other things. Within moments, the ladies and their mistress were standing in silence awaiting instructions.
Luke handed Queen Anne a plaited bracelet in sparkling reds, blues and golds. “Fix this to the Queen’s wrist, Your Grace. It will help us keep a mental lock on her.”
Queen Anne took the band. “A sound notion, Master Ballard. A locating loop. My daughter-in-law loves baubles. I will put it on her now.”
With the four trusted guards on hand, Byram Creswell led the procession out of the door, along the wall and, one by one, across the Fountain Court gateway. By degrees they came to the beer cellar.
Walking ahead of the ladies, he checked to see the area was deserted before beckoning the line forward. Once they were through the first vaults, Luke turned and threw a handful of red dust into the beer cellar. He then ran and caught up with the still-silent group. As they turned the corner near the chapel, Luke heard the pegs bursting from the barrels. Making sure that all the ladies had gone into the chapel, he set up a hue and cry.
Within moments, all manner of kitchen servants streamed from their quarters and the hubbub of noise rose to an almost deafening crescendo when the first ones to enter the cellar discovered the extent of the disaster. Diversion number one.
The retinue reached the Holy Day closets. Luke agreed with Byram that nobody should leave the safety of the chapel until both men considered there were no hazards. He eased past the waiting ladies, marveling at Queen Anne’s foresight. The silence element of the spell had been inspired.
“Master Ballard, is all w
ell?”
“Aye, Master Creswell. I will set off the other diversion. Once I am sure we are unobserved, we must move quickly. This is the heart of the palace and if the enemy is within, he will be close.”
Queen Anne joined them at the door. “Why do we tarry? We are almost there.”
“Aye, Your Grace, and now is the time for the most caution. Where is Master Dufay?”
“I am here,” the Elemagus replied from the end of the line of waiting ladies.
“Can you cloak us whilst we cross the gallery? I feel this is the point of greatest danger.”
Dufay nodded. “Go. I will do what you need.”
Luke slipped out into the silent passage. The distance to the turret stairs was only a matter of yards. Even so, he felt tension building within him, a wave of numbing stiffness seeping up from his toes.
With resolute concentration, he sent his mind to the jewel house on the other side of the palace. Earlier, he had placed a few heaps of gunpowder and lengths of tow soaked in tar around the room to aid his deception. Now he focused all his thoughts on them and knew to within a second when they all burst into flame.
The seeming attack would be quickly detected by the sentries and the alarm raised. Diversion number two. Hopefully, at this moment, King Henry would be making his ill-tempered progress around the palace, keeping all on their toes and making sure none approached the chapel.
As quickly as he could, Luke ran back to the door and began leading the Queen and her ladies from the chapel up to her apartments, the scene of his confrontation with Nimrod when Rob’s arm had been broken. Nimrod would, he prayed, never imagine that Queen Madeleine would return here.
As previously arranged, Byram set up his guards inside the outer chamber with orders that they speak to and obey nobody but him. He then left to patrol the palace and waylay any who might be wandering the corridors for no sound reason.
Once everyone was within the confines of the inner chambers, Luke nodded to the Elemagus.
“It will take a few minutes,” Dufay said.
“Sir, we do not have a few minutes. We have now.”
Dufay looked at him, frowning, but his face cleared almost immediately.
“Of course, Luke. We must do this on both floors. Your Grace, please go to the far end of the chambers on this floor and you, Luke, to this end. Raise your hands. You will see the veil like a gossamer curtain lowering itself. All you need to do is grasp the corners with your minds. I will do the rest. This will not be easy. You must maintain the highest degree of concentration.”
With a glance at each other, Queen Anne and Luke moved to their places. At first Luke could see nothing, although he strained every ounce of awareness. Then, slowly but with gathering speed, a translucent shape drifted up from the Elemagus’s hands. At once, Luke raised both arms and pointed his index fingers at the two corners he could see. The mass of the shroud molded itself to the ceiling.
He seemed to be standing there for hours, but it was in fact only a few moments before he heard the voice of the Elemagus telling him that he could now drop his guard. At Dufay’s behest, they climbed to the upper floor and repeated the exercise. Queen Anne seemed anxious.
“Will it hold, Master Dufay?” she asked.
“Aye. I have added extra layers of seclusion and confusion to it, Your Grace. Should the enemy try to look into the apartments, they will appear empty. The layer of confusion will stop the Queen and her ladies remembering the slaughter of the maid. Madam, you must banish your apprehension, otherwise the enemy will read it on you. Now, you and Mistress Paige must return to your quarters as unobtrusively as you can. I will bring the ladies back to full consciousness. From the time I close the door, this area of the palace will, I pray, appear to any overlooker as an empty set of rooms.”
“It is a magnificent spell, sir,” Luke said. “I believe you have bought me the time I need to finalize the investigation.”
“Remember, though, Luke, and you also, Your Grace, none must be seen to enter these rooms or the deception will be unmasked. That is why I have included the Queen’s privy kitchen in the spell. Will you deal with the comings and goings from it? Her Grace must be fed.”
They nodded and walked to the door. Luke opened it and looked out before beckoning the Queen Mother to follow him. Once outside, they both tuned in for a few moments to the chaos in the jewel house and the beer cellar.
“We must part ways here, Master Ballard. Go and accomplish your mission. For the moment at least, Madeleine and the baby are safe.”
“Aye, Your Grace. She is as safe as we can make her. Now I must needs look after my own and find out what Rob has been up to.”
Making his way down to the lower level of the chapel, Luke slid out of the palace, walking home via the Privy Orchard. “Now, Rob, my lad. Let’s see if we can find out what mischief you have landed yourself in,” he said.
His belief that the Queen was now as safe as she would be anywhere allowed his tension to diminish and exhaustion to flood in. By the time he regained his kitchen Luke was stumbling. He sank into his chair by the fire, rousing himself sufficiently to rekindle the dying embers. Heat. He needed heat to replenish his energies. His mind screamed for sleep as well as heat.
In this state, he was of use to neither man nor beast. Dragging off his boots, he padded up the stairs and fell onto the bed, clicking his fingers for Joss to jump up and wrap herself around him. He was too tired to do anything now. Rob must wait until the morning.
Luke’s last thought before sinking into a dreamless sleep was to wonder whether Roland Dufay had been as good as his word and gone to the Quayne household. If so, it looked as if Rob had been right about the Elemagus’s feelings. A flash of jealousy speared into his chest at the thought of Dufay with Bertila. Or was it envy? He had always maintained he wanted nothing more than her happiness, but in a brief moment of self-knowledge, Luke realized that he wanted her happiness on his terms.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Katelyn roused Bertila from the first untroubled sleep she had managed since the arrest. Sitting up in bed, her heart pounding, she did not at first hear what the girl said. They must be here again, come to take her and her father away in the middle of the night. She seized Katelyn’s hand.
“What is it they want? Did they say?”
“Mistress, there is no they. It is Master Dufay. He be tired and fretful.”
This time she understood and the frantic beating of her heart took on a new aspect.
“Give him wine, Katelyn. I shall be down directly.”
As quickly as she could, Bertila struggled into the burgundy gown she knew suited her skin tone. Dipping her comb in a rosewater, clove and nutmeg mixture, she tidied her hair and then took a deep breath before descending to meet her visitor. Dufay was a picture of embarrassed diffidence. That gave Bertila more confidence than almost anything else would have done.
“Master Dufay. How lovely to see you again.”
She allowed her voice to sound a little uncertain and her eyes to be lowered in modesty. The last thing Bertila wanted to do was for this man to think that she was one of the forward wenches she saw at the market and loitering near the taverns.
Dufay bowed. “I apologize for the lateness of the hour, mistress, but my errand would not wait. Luke thinks you and your father may still be at risk from the Hampton priest.”
Bertila felt the blood drain from her cheeks. Dufay hurried forward, helped her into a chair and signaled Katelyn to bring wine.
“Drink this,” he ordered, handing her the goblet. “You have nothing to fear. I shall stay here, with your permission, of course, until all danger is past.”
“Sir, I could not ask that of you. Why should you go to this trouble for us?”
Dufay smiled.
“I know in what close affection Luke holds you both. He is my friend, too. At the moment, he is taken up with a task that he must complete. I cannot help him with that, but I can take away his anxiety for your welfare.”
“That is more than kind of you, sir. What can I say?”
“Then it is settled. Tomorrow I shall return to my home for a short while to gather up the papers and materials I need to continue my work. Now, I urge you to go back to bed. Sleep sound in the knowledge that nothing can harm you whilst I am here.”
“If you please, sir, you look fatigued. There is the room that Will used before his marriage. I am sure that Katelyn and I could prepare it quickly. Would you like to see it?”
A rare smile lit up Dufay’s face and its warmth transmitted to Bertila’s heart.
“Mistress, I would have happily sat up in a chair all night, but this sounds an excellent solution. You are a most diligent housewife and I do not wonder that Luke holds you in such high regard.”
They soon had Will’s old bedroom put to rights and within a short time Bertila was bidding her unexpected guest good-night. Then she drifted back to her own bed and sat, arms clasped around her knees, her hair tumbling over her shoulders. Dufay’s remark about Luke piqued her curiosity. There was no reason he should talk about her, but they were as close as brother and sister so mayhap she ought to be thinking that there was, equally, no reason he should not.
* * *
The next morning, Luke awoke later than usual. For a moment he could not think why he slept so late, but then he realized that all the downstairs’ noises of morning activity that normally brought him out of his slumbers were noticeably absent. Rob. He sat up, tumbling Joss from the bed. She, with her usual elegance landed on her delicate feet and stretched, looking back at him, faint reproach in her eyes.
Luke laughed. “What slugabeds we are today, girl. Fie, but I need food.”
He changed his tunic and almost ran down the stairs, his face growing more serious as the full import of Rob’s absence hit home. His decision to sleep before attending to the boy’s predicament had been the right one even if it meant that any ordeal Rob might be suffering had been prolonged. There had certainly been no way the previous night Luke could have dredged up the energy or thought to plan the boy’s recovery.