by April Taylor
That Frayner had him imprisoned somewhere seemed clear, and worryingly, when Luke tried to tune into his kinsman, he felt no vibrations coming back to him.
What were his options? The Queen was as safe as she could be. If the Gossamer Veil did nothing else, it should give him a few days respite from that anxiety. Dufay, he felt sure, would have been as good as his word and gone to the Quayne household.
Try as he might to keep his mind on the practical issues facing him, Luke could not prevent a sliver of unease where Bertila was concerned. To him, the thought of her returning any interest in the Elemagus seemed inconceivable. That Dufay might be attracted to her troubled him.
Mayhap in the tension of the previous night and the spells that were flying round, he had been mistaken. Mayhap not, an inner voice told him when he remembered Dufay’s artless tone of voice when offering to look after Corbin and Bertila so that Luke could concentrate his energies elsewhere. And that was precisely what he should be doing now. He would think of the possible complications of the Bertila/Dufay situation, should it really exist, later.
Rob and Alys. They deserved his attention now. Alys’s fate worried him more than Rob’s. He knew his kinsman to be resourceful and courageous. He would sit and think himself out of a situation. Alys on the other hand could be anywhere, although Luke still felt sure that, were she dead, he would have known it the instant her life ended.
Which begged the question of whether Rob would have confronted Frayner about Alys, knowing that Luke suspected the priest of being the enemy they sought. If that were true, then the magic required for him to home in on Rob would need to be strong. He would run the risk of being detected by an enemy on the alert. No, other means must be used.
Was the lad really at Frayner’s house, or had that, too, been a ruse? The woman who told him of Rob’s whereabouts had been frightened enough for it to be true and he had discerned no deceit in her.
Luke munched bread and cheese as he thought. He had slept well. A full stomach would set him up for any rigors that might confront him. Joss, too, looked much brighter since her rest. The blow intended for him had almost extinguished her, but as she sat watching him, he could sense no sign of pain or fear remaining. On an impulse, he bent down to wrap his arms around her. She nuzzled his cheek.
“We must go and find Rob, girl,” he said. “But first, a few precautions.”
He walked into the shop and prepared his daily hand oil. The skin on his hands felt a little dryer than usual, a sure sign that he needed to carry some oils with him to rub in should his magic use up the amount he was currently massaging into his palms.
Whilst he worked, his mind cleared and he laid his plans. He would walk to Frayner’s house, but not openly. Dare he use the enshrouding spell? Best not. He would content himself with putting a shimmer spell on Joss and covering his head so that his curly blond hair was hidden.
Clicking his fingers, he motioned Joss to follow close on his heels before stepping out of the kitchen door. His first glance was at the roof. No crows. Good. With deceptive speed, Luke made his way past the Tiltyard unnoticed by the youngsters practicing their skills. Few people were abroad as he crossed to Bushy Park. He decided he would come at Frayner’s house from the Hampton side, a detour that cost him almost an hour, so anxious was he to remain undetected.
By his guess, it was almost midmorning as he approached his goal. He dodged behind a tree as he saw the housekeeper make her way towards the village, a basket on her arm.
Now he was here, Luke was undecided how to proceed, but God was on his side, for a few minutes after the departure of the woman, Frayner himself strode out, a set expression on his face and his staff in his hand. He struck out in the direction of the palace. Was he going to the palace or further on? To the Quaynes? Luke felt a sudden rush of gratitude that Dufay was looking after his friends. If anyone could handle the priest, the Elemagus could. Shame he did not have Luke’s sense of humor. Had he been Elemagus, he would have had Frayner hopping home on one leg, unable to put the other to the floor. His involuntary grin ceased when he thought that if Frayner represented the phrenic constellation, Dufay would have his hands full. Better stop watching the priest’s departing back, get into the house and hope that the Spanish servant, Pinero, had not been left on guard.
Before he entered the unlocked door, Luke sent out some quick tendrils to make sure no evil trap awaited him. He sensed nothing except a feeling of discomfort somewhere under the earth. That gave him momentary cause for alarm. Had they killed and buried Rob? Unlikely. He would have felt the shake in the balance.
Creeping along the passage, Luke sensed that the house was empty. No sign of the Spaniard. Frowning, but following his instinct, he soon discovered Rob in an underground cellar. The boy had a bloody wound on his head, which filled Luke with rage.
At least one thing was explained. Frayner had given Rob neither food nor drink since locking him up, and his injury had made him so weak that he had spent most of his captive hours unconscious. No wonder Luke had been unable to locate him. The important thing now was to get out. As he urged his kinsman to hurry and leave, Rob grasped his arm.
“Master, look at what I found,” he said, pulling the apothecary to a chest half-hidden in one of the dark corners.
Lifting the lid, Luke saw that it was filled with vials of what looked like water.
Frowning, he unstoppered one and sniffed, then poured some of the liquid into his palm. At once it split into three large drops, each separate from the other two.
“God’s teeth. Holy water,” he said.
“How do you know?”
“Because it represents the Holy Trinity, God, the father. God, the son. God, the Holy Ghost. Three in one. Three drops made from one drop. What devilry did he have planned for this, I wonder?”
“What should we do?”
“I will take one to show Master Dufay,” Luke said. “But first we’ll find the water bucket and replace the liquid in the others with ordinary unblessed water. That will stop his gallop.”
They returned to the apothecary’s house by a roundabout route, Luke keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of Frayner. Once he had tended to the boy’s wound and fed him, Rob was voluble in his anger at the priest’s perfidy.
“I thought I could trick him into telling me where Alys was. I pretended to give him information about your evil doings.”
“What did you say?” Luke leaned against the wall near the fire, drinking ale and watching his kinsman.
Rob grinned. “I said you crept out to the church at Hampton at dead of night. Serve the bastard right if he has a few sleepless nights trying to catch you.”
“Did you not consider the danger to yourself?”
Rob shook his head and winced at the pain.
“No. I wanted to know where Alys was and, if I could, get information for you to use against him. Stupid, was it not?”
“Men like Gerard Frayner do not reach their positions of influence without having fast brains and lying tongues. Stay out of his path, Rob. I need you.”
The boy looked into his beaker.
“What about Alys?”
Luke clapped him on the shoulder.
“Rob, look at me. We will rescue her and you can both live here if you wish.”
Pounding at the shop door made them turn. Luke gestured for Rob to slip up the stairs and quickly cleared the table of the beaker and trencher. When he opened the door, it was with a sigh of relief that he saw it was Byram, but the captain’s face looked grim.
“I have something to show you.”
Luke motioned him through to the kitchen and called Rob back downstairs. Byram looked at the boy and shook his head.
“Where did you disappear to, you rapscallion?”
Luke could see the boy’s face flame with embarrassment and quickly intervened.
“That is not important now, Byram. He is back and safe. What have you to show me?”
“This,” replied the captain, opening his
hand and revealing a small shield with some kind of embellishment on it.
Luke took it, holding it up to the light. “Where did you find it?”
“It was dropped by an intruder who tried to access the palace via the water gate,” Byram replied, his expression bleak. “I did as you counseled and gave each man a beaker of your special ale.”
“And it obviously worked.”
“It did and I thank God for it. Whoever it was thought they would make another attempt on the Queen. He was foiled by the guards’ wakefulness.”
“What happened?”
“According to Sergeant Peckham, all was quiet until midnight. They were all alert in any case, since some prankster had flooded the beer cellar and tried to storm the Jewel House.” Byram’s lips twitched as he stared at Luke.
“That must have kept them busy,” Luke replied in an even tone.
“Aye. Well, a short while after calm had been restored, the water gate party heard footsteps making their way up from the river. They were on edge, according to Peckham, but whether that was because of the previous alarms or the beer, I cannot say. They all leapt as one man towards the noise and challenged the intruder. All they heard for their pains was the sound of footsteps running back towards the river. They followed, shouting for him to stop, but when they got there, they could see nobody. Then the moon came out and one of the men saw this.”
Luke sat and rubbed his fingers over the gold to clean soil and dust from it. “There is a pattern here,” he said, frowning.
“It isn’t a pattern,” Byram said at last. “It’s a letter.”
“Actually, it is two letters. Look, here is the curve of a G and just on the lower stroke another curve making an F. So, we have F and G. Do we know any with those initials?”
“Of course we do,” Rob said. “Make it G and F and you have Gerard Frayner.”
Luke looked at him, trying to control the excitement flooding his chest. “You are right, my boy. Now what was Gerard Frayner trying to do last night in the palace?”
There was a short silence. “Looks like we’ve found our enemy,” Rob said. “You were right, Luke. Frayner is Nimrod.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Bertila went about her household duties the next morning with a lighter heart than she had known since her mother died. Even the removal of the facial scar caused by Will’s clumsiness in their father’s shop when she was a small girl had not rendered her as happy as the warmth that flooded through her now.
She knew herself to be a practical woman, even more so since the black despair of the previous summer when all her hopes for a husband had been dashed. As she prepared food for her father, for the first time, Bertila faced the truth of that heartbreak without the usual desolation creeping over her.
As well as being sensible, Bertila was honest with herself. She knew that whatever happened in the future, however happy or unhappy she might be, there would always be a laughing grey-eyed ghost who would disturb her sleep from time to time, or whom she would imagine she saw from the corner of her eye.
However, she recognized in Roland Dufay a man who had no use for flamboyance or flirting. In reality, he was, like her, serious at heart. She must not allow herself to dream this time but simply wait on events.
She hoped she had not misread Master Dufay. Bertila was not versed in the art of courtship and she was sure that he was not either. When—if—he gave his heart, it would be after due consideration, but once given, he would remain steadfast. This was the best of all possible worlds, she thought. If he speaks, I know it will be true. If he does not, I am no worse off.
The sudden banging at the door must be him returning. He had said he would fetch his papers and work from his house before coming back. It was with a light heart and welcoming smile that she flung the door wide. Her smile died as she saw who stood there.
“You? You were told to leave us alone.”
“I do not obey the words of mere men,” Frayner spat. “I am the instrument of God, ordained to seek out those of the left-hand path and destroy them. Do you think I do not see the arrogance with which you disport yourself, believing that you can deceive me? Better than you have tried and failed.”
He made as if to push inside, but Bertila closed the door on his foot, making him howl with pain and rage. The anger gave him additional strength and he forced his way inside, raising his staff and knocking her to the floor. Pain exploded in her head like a bright white light. Bertila screamed as he loomed over her, the derangement in his eyes terrifying her more than anything she could remember.
“I will teach you to deny entrance to a man of God, witch.”
Waves of sickness flowed through her. She felt the touch of his hated hands on her, his nails digging into her skin as he ripped the material of her bodice.
“Where are your witch dugs? I know you for what you are.” His hands scrabbled under her linen shift, pinching and squeezing. Once more she screamed, trying to wrench his hands away from her. Katelyn, having heard the scream, rushed through from the kitchen and ran to her mistress. Frayner hit her with the staff and the girl fell unconscious onto Bertila.
“You foul ratsbane,” she said. “Striking a child. I wager you would not dare to strike a man your own size in that fashion.”
“For the glory of God, witch, I would dare much.”
“Did you not hear Master Dufay say he had the Queen Mother’s ear? Surely you have not forgotten that Queen Anne summoned him? You were here and witnessed it. Do you truly believe you could face her wrath unscathed? You may be assured that if we are under Master Dufay’s protection, we are also under hers.”
“Do you think I care one whit for the opinion of the Great Whore?”
“What is all this noise?” A weak voice floated into the silence engendered by Bertila’s horror at Frayner’s treasonable words.
She turned her head. Corbin was clinging to the stair rope. How he had managed to clamber to his feet only God knew. One side of his face still drooped from the effects of his seizure, but his overwhelming love for her had triumphed over his weak limbs.
When he had heard her scream, he must have dragged himself from the bed to come to her aid. She tried to get up, but Frayner kicked her down again and walked towards her father, an evil smile on his face.
“I thought they lied when they said you could not move. So, you have been hiding from justice, thinking that I would forget about you.”
“Get you out of my house, priest. You are naught but a filthy ravisher, cloaking your obscene desires behind a mask of piety.” Corbin’s voice, still slurred, had none of its former vigor.
“I will leave when I have both you and your witch daughter under arrest.”
A new voice came from the kitchen doorway. “I do not think so.”
Bertila blinked through the blood trickling down her face. A strange intensity lit Master Dufay’s eyes and his voice sounded more than just breathless. It was some moments before she realized that he was doing his utmost to control a blazing fury, and knew without any doubt that if he ever gave way to that rage, the effects would be calamitous, not least for him.
The look on Frayner’s face indicated his mania had at last spun out of control. He advanced upon Dufay.
“Ah, the Great Whore’s friend. You will not stop me taking these witches into custody, nor will you prevent their just execution.”
Dufay, with some effort, Bertila thought, leaned on the doorpost of the kitchen, a slight smile on his face.
“Mistress Bertila,” he said, his eyes never leaving Frayner’s face. “How badly hurt are you?”
“I am more worried for Father and Katelyn.”
She looked towards her father. The effort of the short journey from bed to stairs had exhausted all his strength. As she watched, he collapsed onto the stairs and lay still.
Dufay must also have seen it. He strode forward with such energy that the impetus drove Frayner back. Dufay said nothing. He did not need to, for the expression on his fac
e seemed to momentarily unsettle the priest.
Bertila stayed on the floor, torn between the need to reach her father and fear for the child whose white face and uneven breathing spoke of a serious wound. She looked up to see Dufay, who, for all his lanky length, seemed to possess the strength of a bull, propel the intruder through the door.
“Stay you out of this house and leave these people alone or you will pay a heavier price than you could imagine,” he growled. He slammed the door shut, leaning against it, panting a little and obviously struggling to regain his equanimity, then came across to where she still lay on the floor, the unconscious Katelyn in her lap. He bent and looked into her eyes, and in that moment, she understood her heart. He was a true gentleman and one who had not even glanced at her exposed breasts.
“Do you trust me, Bertila?”
“With my life.”
His smile was the sweetest she had ever seen on any face. A mixture of happiness and hope, she thought.
Dufay passed his hand over her head. Her wound throbbed and grew very hot, but she never took her eyes from his. He nodded.
“There. That is done. Now to see to this little one. I must mend her injuries before she wakes. Then I will see to your father.”
A few minutes later, still feeling rather shaky, Bertila clambered to her feet, pulling her torn shift over her breasts. Katelyn’s eyes had just opened and she spent some time calming the girl. Dufay had left the room, but when he returned, it was clear he had gone into the dispensary, for his hands carried several jars.
“I have some knowledge of the apothecary’s art,” he said. “Here, put this into a beaker of milk for the girl. I will help Master Quayne upstairs and give him medicine.”
Katelyn was still too shocked to speak, but she did as Bertila ordered and sipped at the milk. Slowly the color returned to her cheeks, though tears ran unchecked down her face.
“How do you feel now, little one?” Bertila asked, stroking her hair.
“Thank you, Mistress,” Katelyn hiccupped. “What a wicked man.”
“Indeed,” replied Bertila, a shiver running through her. Once more she felt the seeping damp of the cell in the Tower. Please God she would not have to go through that again. How much power did Frayner have?