by Hall, Ian
In the midst of such a daydream, I heard the ingress of a group below me, Renard among them. But alas the footsteps made the speech difficult to hear distinctly, I only caught some of the words.
But one thing seemed certain; they had a meeting planned for the next night, and it sounded like something big.
Learning nothing more, I sped from the house, back to our rooms, and instructed Steve to arrange a meeting with Etienne Quiclet the next day.
I extinguished the candles in the room and lay back on the bed, but sleep did not come easy. I had a Princess to protect, a Queen to circumvent, and a new plot to unfold. My mind raced into the wee hours. Only when the first light of dawn crept in the dirty window did I begin to feel tired.
I woke to Steve Fraser’s insistent nudging. “Yes?”
“It’s midday, you meet with Quiclet soon.”
I sat up. “Where?”
“Same place as before.”
I realized I’d not actually spent much time in conversation with my friend; I’d been introspective and withdrawn. “Will you come?”
He nodded. “Yes, I’ll be there. I have an errand to run first, I’ll meet you there.”
I changed my clothing, hanging the damp set up to dry. The whole room smelled musty, as if dampness were spreading through the floor. “Roll on, summer,” I said as I walked out the door.
The Lark proved to be quiet that day, and I secured the same table as before, in the familiar dark corner. I ordered two goblets of Spanish rum, and settled back on my chair. I let my eyes roam around the tavern, looking for any kind of attention devoted to me, but felt confident I wasn’t being watched.
Etienne Quiclet arrived, looked around, then crossed to my table and sat down. “Good Day to you, Sir Richard.”
“Monsieur Quiclet.” I drank from my cup, and he did likewise. “I hope you have information for me.”
“I have information, Sir Richard, maybe just not the kind you like.”
I gave a forced grin and decided to play my cards quick and direct. “Renard is meeting with a gentleman tonight. Who, where, and when?”
His face suddenly became confused. “I do not know of any meeting, sorry.”
“They spoke of it last night, were you not present?”
“I have been very busy over the last few weeks. Renard has me writing to the King almost every day.”
Then,” I leant forward over the table, “Monsieur Quiclet, your task today is to find that information for me.” I finished my rum in one single swallow. “And I need it tonight before it is too late.”
“How will I contact you?”
“My man, Steven, will be waiting at the back of Haxtun House all day.”
I walked from the tavern, leaving Quiclet behind me. Yes, I could just follow Renard to his meeting, but if I knew the identity of the men he would meet with, and where it would take place, then I could get there first, secure myself ready for their approach.
As I exited the tavern, Steve approached. “That surely didn’t take any time.”
I shook my head, pulling my cape round my front against the cold wind. Roll on, summer. “He didn’t know anything about it. You’ve to stay outside the back of the house to receive Quiclet’s information.”
“Okay.” He also puffed against the cold. “Do you want me with you tonight?”
“Yes, definitely. We’ll make up the plan as we go along, but we’d be much safer going together; strength in numbers and all that.” I clapped him on the back. “You to Haxtun House, I’ll go to visit a Princess.”
“In broad daylight?”
“Why not? I feel the approach of a very good end, Steve.”
But Elizabeth did not appear to be in such good spirits. “Despite what you assured me, the Privy Council has been here twice in the last two days.”
“I knew nothing of this, my Princess, I apologize.”
“They bombarded me with allegations for hours.” She wrung her hands nervously. “With so many demanding my attention, I fear I said something out of place.” She crossed to her window; outside stood the scaffold, empty but still a reminder. “One word, Richard, and I’m the next victim.”
I crossed to her side and placed an arm round her shoulders.
“Oh, Richard!” She turned, pushing herself onto me, clutching at me. I encompassed her in my arms and held her close while she sobbed violently against my body. Slowly, her racking movements eased, and she just stood in my arms. Then she tilted her head upwards and kissed me. I don’t know exactly how it happened, but I found myself kissing her back. Then our mouths opened and tongues collided. Like a firecracker that had been stored for years in a dusty closet, I had just lit the blue paper fuse.
But despite the lust I became embattled with, somewhere in my mind, I brought my libido under control, and gradually lessened my ardor until our mouths parted, and she fell back onto her heels, panting.
“Oh, Richard.”
“My Princess, it can never be.”
Her eyes sparkled, the heat inside still showing. “It can be, just once. Just once before I die.”
My memory suddenly recalled another bedding, one in which a virginity had to be broken. “My Princess, you must remain intact. It would not be appropriate if you were to go to your wedding night, you know, not a virgin.”
She gave me the sexiest smile I’d ever seen from her. “I’m afraid that is long gone, Richard.”
Well I never. “Tell me.” The words were out of my mouth before I knew. I couldn’t help myself.
Then she boldly rubbed her belly against my hard-on. “You are engorged.”
“I have a beautiful Princess in my arms, pushing herself against me. I’d have to be gay not to respond.”
“Gay?” she questioned. “You are not happy?”
Oh boy. “It’s a long story. Tell me about you.”
“Very well.” She pushed herself away from me, and turned to the window again. “The tale of the Seymours.” She spoke like she’d written it all down. “It all started with Jane Seymour. After my birth, the two Seymour brothers pushed their sister Jane at my father, the King. And they did it well. The King soon became besotted, he executed my mother Anne Boleyn, and he hurriedly married Jane. Because of the family connection, the two Seymour brothers both achieved high political positions, but Thomas Seymour always harbored jealousy of his elder brother Edward’s prominence. When Jane Seymour then gave birth to Henry’s only son, Edward, the brother’s power became stronger; the next King would be a Seymour, and their rise to power continued. Much later, when King Henry died, Edward Seymour was installed as ‘Protector of England’, regent to Prince Edward, Henry’s only son, and Edward Seymour’s nephew. Edward Seymour had become the most powerful man in all of England.”
“But Catherine Parr, the King’s surviving wife of six, now the most wealthy woman in the country, became the target of the jealous and ambitious younger brother, Thomas Seymour.”
“They married six months after King Henry died, that’s how aggressively he wooed her. But it seems one woman wasn’t enough for Thomas Seymour; he began to show signs of wanting more, and I lived in their house, a forgotten Princess. I had just passed my fourteenth birthday, and had been alone for most of my life. I had never before had ‘attentions’ from a man, and trust me, his romantic behavior was flattering in the extreme. He’d wait until Catherine had gone, then he’d tickle. He’d kiss me in any place he could place his lips. He’d tease me, he’d flatter me with the nicest words. Then he’d get serious, and always be there to ‘tuck me in’ at night; and as his fingers tucked in the sheets, they always touched me. He’d tell me stories; he’d lie beside me, touching me, caressing me.”
She turned to me, and I expected to see sadness, yet instead I seemingly looked upon a woman fondly reminiscing on past times. And then I saw through the veil of her ruminations; she looked confused, seemingly ashamed of the whole thing, as if had been her fault.
“He touched me, and at first I liked it; I
couldn’t help myself, after such a lonely childhood, I looked forward to any attention. But then I actually began to see a plan unfold. I heard him and Catherine conspire; if he could impregnate me, a Princess, he’d outshine his brother. I tried to put physical barriers between us, I tried to ensure Kat’s companionship, but in the end, he just sent her away, and she’d leave me alone with an apologetic look in her eyes.
“In the end, I didn’t care. I enjoyed his touch, his kind words. I enjoyed someone who seemed to care about me, not about the daughter of a King.”
She stopped, and tears formed in her eyes.
“You can stop if you want.” I softly brushed the tears off her pale cheeks.
She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “In the end, Catherine held me down while he ripped my dress. I can’t recall any more. But afterwards Catherine railed at me, telling me it had all been my fault, that I had acted as a whore. Then she sent me away, banished again to my solitary life. When Catherine died the next year, Thomas came to visit me on his own, asking me to marry him. He started all his ministrations again until we got found out.”
“In the end Thomas got arrested, and charged with thirty-three counts of treason, one for conspiring to marry me and take over the kingdom. Another man who died for me, Richard, they all die.” She moved herself slowly into my arms. “You see, I’m frightened to fall in love; whoever I love, he’ll just be killed like all the rest.”
I eventually got her to lie on the bed, holding my hand until she fell fast asleep. But she had laid her lips on mine, and I had to face the temptation not to lift her dress. Shaking my head, and calling myself both pervert and fool, I walked away from her and left the Tower.
When I got to the King’s Head, a letter awaited me.
Regency Theatre. Sundown. Come alone. Q.
I raced upstairs, but Steve proved nowhere to be found. I made the assumption he’d went on ahead. The sun already sat low in the sky, so I raced to the theatre. Deserted of patrons, I found a caretaker, who kindly invited me inside, then I vampired him to sleep, laying him between two rows of seats.
The stage area looked small in comparison to our large stages in America, but on closer examination, a gantry above sat far above the player’s platform. I climbed to the high walkway, and found a part where I could remain hidden, and still get a good view of the whole theatre, stage and seats. Candles burned in many holders along the front of the stage, shiny concave mirrors aiming their light mainly at the empty stage.
I must have waited an hour before Renard arrived; he walked boldly into the theatre, then down the slope to the front seat, where he sat down, his hands clasped in his lap.
He looked calm, no nerves.
Then a figure appeared below me, walking across the stage. He wore a wide-brimmed hat, so I couldn’t identify him at first, but I did know one thing; below me stood a vampire. The heat from the candles drove his musk to my nostrils, I had no doubt.
“Monsieur Renard,” he said, his voice cloyingly familiar, his accent still holding a jot of Bostonian.
Renard rose and walked to the stage, perhaps now at chest height, looking up at the vampire. “How do plans proceed?”
“We have the key players in place,” he said. “In one week they will rise at my command, and openly proclaim Elizabeth Queen.”
His words echoed in my head, I knew this man. Then he took off his hat, and I looked down on the short cropped hair of Keith Fallon, the Baron of Exeter.
Chapter 22
April 15th, 1554
Hook, Line and Sinker
Although I’d expected it, I could hardly believe my eyes. Below me, on the stage, stood my nemesis, my arch enemy, the man who’d violated my Lady Jane. I placed my hand on my sword, loosening it slightly in its scabbard, and readied myself to spring from my gantry, intending to drop thirty feet, to land right on top of him.
But first I had to find out what they planned.
“That is indeed good news,” Renard said. “Are you certain of your support?”
“Oh, I’m sure. My powers of persuasion are quite remarkable.”
“I need Elizabeth to be openly in command.” Renard began to pace, his hands behind his back, just like he did when with the Queen. “I need her to be openly at the head of the rebel army. When Queen Mary’s army forces their surrender, there can be no dispute over her guilt this time.”
Oh, my God, they planned a coup, but they planned from the outset it would fail; how fiendishly clever.
“Oh I have already rehearsed the ‘surrender’. These fools have no stomach for fight.”
“Good. How many men will rise?”
“About two thousand. A good enough sized force to burn and pillage London, but small enough to be ‘overcome’ by the sudden and welcome arrival of Mary’s army.” Fallon’s smarmy voice annoyed me beyond measure. I readied myself for my leap.
“King Charles will be eternally grateful, Baron.” He bowed, ready to leave.
“Just remind him to show his gratitude in yellow metal!” he called after the retreating figure. Then he stood on the stage, his hands on his hips.
I grinned, then with a slight spring from my position, I leapt from the gantry, drawing my sword as I fell towards him.
Bam! I struck downwards with the blade. The steel tip entered his shoulder near his neck, and the force of my descent drove it deep down into his chest. I landed on my feet and spun him around to see me.
But it wasn’t Fallon. I looked at the stranger’s face in puzzlement.
What the fuck?
Then my arms were grabbed from both sides as the figure in front collapsed onto the stage. I looked at my captors and tried to force myself free, but they held tight.
Two big men. And both vampires.
And boy, my stomach decided to do its sicky thing again, and I fought to keep it under control.
Then, down the same passageway Renard had just left, walked Fallon, cheesy grin and all. “Why, who do we have here?” He reached the stage and jumped up. “Why, it’s Richard DeVere, my time-travelling friend.” He looked down at the man on the stage, and I followed his eyes. I expected him to be bleeding profusely onto the smooth wooden platform, a pool of dark blood growing rapidly, but no blood appeared. “Did you think you’d got me, Richard?”
“Fuck off, you bastard.” But I didn’t feel that powerful, my belly hurt, and it seemed throwing up seemed only a moment away.
He grabbed me by the chin and squeezed my jaw tightly. “No, dear friend, it’s you who shall fuck off. But this time, when you come back, you’ll bring me a present, or your friends will die, and I mean die!”
I couldn’t believe the turn of events; from the certain death of my enemy, to bargaining like this. “I’m bringing you nothing, you arrogant bastard.”
“Oh, you will. If you don’t bring me an iPod, pre-filled with world history, and a solar charger, I will end the Lady Jane, I will certainly take the head from the shoulders of your accomplice, I mean, he’s not quite got the hang of this vampire stuff yet, has he? Oh, and your good Princess Elizabeth? She’ll fucking burn in a fire in front of you if you don’t do this!”
My eyes smarted from the grip on my jaw, but I couldn’t see a way out of it all. He had me good and proper. iPod? I couldn’t believe what he wanted. True, it would give him a huge advantage in his quest to make profit, but it seemed such an insignificant item considering his already greater powers.
“Why don’t you just go back and get it all yourself?”
“And lose what I’ve already gained?” he sneered. “Don’t be a fucking idiot, Richard. Why would I take the chance? You have a reason to return, you’ll find some way to do it.”
I decided to go along with him, and see where things went. “Okay. So what if I agree? How do we play this? You’ve got to send me back, how are you going to do that?”
Renard suddenly appeared at Fallon’s side, held by the neck by another burly vampire, a shiny knife held at his throat. “Oh, I th
ink this one will be important enough to send you back, don’t you?”
Shit. I pulled harder on the men to my side, but their grip on my body felt rock solid. That and the sore stomach thing made me weaker anyway.
Then Fallon started to back away, obviously not wishing to be sent back when Renard got killed. “Remember, Richard, iPod, or they all die.” He reached the edge of the stage. “You really never were a real adversary to me, Richard. Always too easy, always the patsy, never the star. Maybe next time, huh?”
Then his body buckled slightly.
Suddenly an arrow tip appeared out of Fallon’s chest with a sickening thuddy-squelchy noise. His face instantly showed fear and shock, as he looked down at the nasty bloody protrusion.
I screamed with joy, but my elation proved to be short-lived. The light from the candles shimmered in front of me. “No!” I roared.
Then another ripped into his back, ripping through his body, its bloody and ragged tip sticking four inches from his chest.
The stage below me began to tremble, shaking from side to side. My legs buckled, and I found myself only held upright by the men on either side
Then a third arrow sprung from his chest, and Fallon arched his back, screaming in pain.
The gantry fell on me, smashing around me, the stage broke apart, and I found myself falling.
Blackness.
A spinning darkness, as I wailed in despair. I had failed again, falling back to the present day. My 1554 world had gone, soon to be replaced by a modern one without Lady Jane.
Bam!
Sunshine, bright day, blinding me. I screamed, clutching at my hair, shaking with anger and disappointment. Gradually my eyes became accustomed to the light, and I looked around. A field, cows, but high above me, white streaks of airplanes at high altitude.
“Fuck!” I roared, knowing the tendons on my neck strained at the action.
The last time I’d wasted weeks in preparation to go back in time, I’d missed fifty years.
“I can’t do this again!” I fell to my knees, crying openly, panting in frustration.