Chapter 32
To his mingled surprise, disappointment, and relief, Albertus in the guise of John Smith found Frances Howard at the second ale-house he visited. It was a darker, smokier place than their usual meeting place. The ale was weaker and sourer, the rough table stained and slopped with spilled drink, and the bench he sat on edged with splinters. Albertus was disappointed because he did not really want to instruct the man to abduct Elizabeth from Woodstock and bring her to Vidal, dead or alive. On the other hand, it was a relief to be able to obey Vidal promptly.
Another surprise came when Howard did not eagerly snatch up the purse Albertus offered with his instructions. Considering the poor quality of the ale-house, Vidal had assumed that Howard was short of money and would jump at a well-paid task.
Instead, Howard said "I am not thrilled with the queen's desire to make a Spanish marriage nor with her outspoken pride in her Spanish heritage. I am beginning to wonder if the "mere English" Elizabeth would not be a better queen, despite being of the reformist persuasion. And I do not like that "alive or dead" provision of bringing her to you," Howard added, remembering the sweetness of Elizabeth's smile and her willingness to name him "cousin" the one time he had met her. "I would not be the cause of the death of a daughter of Great Harry."
"You do not even know if you can get to her," Albertus said, actually well pleased although he managed an angry frown. "So you can leave that worry for the future. Sir Henry Bedingfield took a hundred men with him. First find out whether an attack on the manor is possible. If it will mean hiring an army, I must go to my principal and discover what he wishes to do."
Howard laughed without humor. "You need not bother asking your master. I would not hire enough men to attack Bedingfield's force. I tell you that right now. Do you think I wish to find parts of myself on gibbets all over London?"
The purse still lay on the table between them. Albertus stared at it. Would Aurilia or Vidal know if he kept it? He shuddered and pushed the purse toward Howard. "Take it and find out just what the situation at Woodstock is. Discover whether the guards can be bribed, how many entrances there are. Exactly where Lady Elizabeth is lodged and how many attendants are with her. When I have that information, I will be able to tell my principal and he can decide whether he wants to go forward or not."
Howard picked up the purse and weighed it in his hand. He and his men had fought Wyatt's force at the Temple Bar. They had got nothing for their effort; the old duke had been disgraced when his force was routed. Howard himself had no more hope of appointment to some office in the queen's government, and three men were dead, a dozen others still recovering from their wounds.
Even the open rebellion had not proved to Queen Mary how unpopular her choice of husband was. Howard had hoped she would try to propitiate the people and remain unmarried—specially as she was likely too old to bear a child. But he had heard the rumors that she was acting like a lovesick girl, staring at Spanish Philip's portrait and blushing when the marriage was mentioned by her courtiers. English merchants were suffering while Spanish goods and Spanish people were preferred.
After a moment he nodded curtly and tucked the purse away in his doublet. He would take two or three men and go himself to see what was to be seen in Woodstock.
A week later, Howard was drinking at the Bull in the town where Thomas Parry, Lady Elizabeth's controller, was living. No secret at all was made about the conditions of Elizabeth's house arrest. She was allowed no visitors at all. Bedingfield was adamant on that, and the armed force guarding the gatehouse in which she lived was alert and well-trained. Howard himself spoke to the captain and determined attack would be useless.
Abduction remained a possibility. Elizabeth might not resist as it was also no secret that she was not happy with her imprisonment and repeatedly complained to the Council. How to reach her and get her agreement or arrange for her to be taken was the basic problem.
The three men and three women allowed to serve Elizabeth could not be corrupted and used for Howard's purpose. The men could be reached since they were not restricted to the gatehouse and actually came out to the Bull often because Parry arranged for the household expenses. However, they were all absolutely devoted to their mistress and could be neither bribed nor threatened. Howard lost one of his men who made the mistake of trying to bribe and threaten Sir Edward Paulet. He was found dead about midway between The Bull and Woodstock manor. A second man was severely beaten when he approached the major domo, who was enthusiastically supported by Lady Elizabeth's two grooms.
The women, who might have been glad to help because, Howard learned, they were really Mary's servants, were unapproachable. They were never out of the gatehouse except in the company of Elizabeth and Bedingfield. They walked in the gardens, Howard learned, and in the orchard—but only with a strong escort.
However, information about Elizabeth's lodging and habits was easy enough to come by. There was resentment among her people about her being lodged without sufficient honor in the gatehouse while repairs were made to the manor. One angry gentleman indignantly pointed out the windows of her bedchamber on the second floor of the gatehouse.
Howard himself, rather relieved, felt he had done all he could to earn the fee paid him. He was ready to return to London when the third man he had brought along, who was devotedly Catholic and feared that Elizabeth would become Mary's heir and revert to her reformist preferences, said he had looked at the gatehouse through a ship's glass and seen that it would be no great difficulty to climb to the bedchamber window.
"And carry the lady out?" Howard said sarcastically. "Do not be a fool, her maid will be there and likely also one of her ladies shares her bed or her room. Even if you should be able to open her window, there will be a passel of screaming women to call the guards at her doors."
The man shrugged. "I can look in and see how the room is arranged. Elizabeth must be got rid of. Queen Mary . . . if she should get with child and die . . . we would have the devils from Geneva destroying our Church."
Howard shrugged. He was less worried about the devils from Geneva than the masters from Spain, but he did not wish to expose himself to a henchman who might betray him. "If you will," he said. "But do not let yourself be caught. We do not want to give any warning to Bedingfield, who is as careful to keep danger away from his charge as to keep her controlled."
Her three watchdogs soundly asleep, Elizabeth stepped through the Gate to Underhill without a second thought. Blanche went to bed after seeing her mistress off. She trusted Shaylor, who was guarding the door, to make enough noise to wake her if anyone should try to intrude. No one had in the two months they had been at Woodstock and she was not really worried about that. However, she was not sure how many more nights of good sleep she would get.
Blanche sighed. Although Elizabeth picked and nagged at Sir Henry, she was actually in good spirits and did not always hide it. The ladies now seemed to feel that Elizabeth was resigned to being held at Woodstock and did not need to be watched so closely. They had been requesting leave to move their cots back into the outer chamber.
So far Elizabeth had held them by saying she had got accustomed to their presence and would feel abandoned and insecure without it. Soon, however, Blanche thought, yawning, they would think of leaving one at a time, accustoming Elizabeth to their absence little by little. Probably Elizabeth would not be able to find an excuse to prevent that. Blanche yawned again and sighed. Then she would have to sit at the door while Elizabeth was away to keep them out.
The thud that woke her at first mingled with that last thought and brought her out of bed more than half asleep; she knew only she had to get to the door and prevent entry into Elizabeth's room. She snatched up her candle, lit it at the night candle, and hurried into the bedchamber. In the doorway she paused, realizing there had been no second knock, and began to scan the room. Had a lady fallen off her cot?
They were all there, still bespelled. Instinctively Blanche looked to see if Elizabeth had ret
urned. She saw the shadow holding back the curtain of Elizabeth's empty bed. There was an intruder in the room!
Blanche's mouth opened to scream for Shaylor and snapped shut. She dared not allow anyone, not even Shaylor, into the bedchamber. He would ask why Elizabeth's ladies did not stir even for the noise of a fight and why Elizabeth's bed was empty.
At the same moment her mouth closed against raising any alarm, Blanche wondered who could have gained entry into Elizabeth's bedchamber with no more noise than one thud. If the intruder had fought Shaylor, surely there would have been cries and the sound of metal clashing against metal.
Sidhe! It could only be one of the Sidhe and no friend to Elizabeth!
Blanche's free hand wrenched at the necklace of crosses, twisting the largest and heaviest iron cross from the chain. She shifted the candle to her left hand and raised her right to throw the cross, but the intruder was no longer beside the bed. She pursued the shadow, wanting to be sure the iron cross would strike the bare skin of the face to burn and poison. The intruder gasped.
Howard's man had found it much easier than he expected to elude the bored and sleepy night guard. It was also easier than he expected to clamber up the side of the gatehouse to one of the windows of Elizabeth's room. There were protruding stones and beams and a thick vine. However, when he reached the window, he was sorely disappointed. It was closed, despite the balmy end-of-June air, and the curtains were drawn across it.
He paused only a moment and then tried if the window was locked. It was, but he could feel that the whole frame was badly warped. A gentle application of his knife undid the latch. Carefully, wary of squeaks and screeches, he opened the window, leaned forward over the low sill to pull the drape aside, leaned forward just a little too much . . . and tumbled into the room pushing the drape open as he fell.
Springing to his feet, he was half out of the window again before he realized there were none of the screams he expected. Only the sound of deep-sleep breathing and his own half-strangled gasps disturbed the chamber. Carefully, one hand still on the open window he looked around. The night-candle gave enough light to see three beds holding three humped bodies. Another long moment assured Howard's man that the sleepers had not stirred.
He paused, staring, but nothing moved. His shoulders squared from their defensive hunch. What could make all the women sleep so sound? Were they all addicted to laudanum?
A wide grin spread his lips. If the ladies and Lady Elizabeth always slept so soundly it would not be impossible to gag and bind the lady and carry her away without anyone being the wiser. He could ask any price for such a prize.
He came away from the window to peep through the bedcurtain to make sure his prize slept as soundly as the other women. For a moment he was frozen with shock. The bed was empty! By the mercy of God, what had he discovered?
Before he could give any consideration to the many aspects of what the empty bed could mean, a new light and a soft gasp made him spin around. Holding a candle that showed her clearly was a stout middle-aged woman, her mouth open to scream.
Howard's man flinched then froze. But she did not scream. To his amazement, the woman's mouth shut hard, she shifted her candle from one hand to the other and reached toward her breast. Shaking off his astonishment, Howard's man let go of the bedcurtain and ran toward the window. The woman pursued him!
With one hand on the window frame and one leg over the low sill, his foot feeling for the vine that had supported him on the way up, the intruder saw the woman raise a hand to throw something at him. By instinct, without thought, Howard's man ducked and leaned away from the missile. He was aware of something heavy hitting his shoulder and bouncing off. His last thought, as his foot slipped and he pitched out of the window was relief that she had not thrown a knife.
Howard had not slept well that last night in the Bull. He had shared the room with his three fellows and now was alone. He felt heavy and guilty, not so much about the men but because of the way each had been disposed of. All three gone, one by one, seemed a bad sign, a warning. Each time he wakened and found his man had not returned, the warning became clearer.
He was breaking his fast in a quiet corner of the tap room when the excitement from Woodstock manor finally boiled over into the Bull.
"A dead man?"
Howard heard Thomas Parry's voice loud with shock.
The controller was looking up into the face of one of the men-at-arms who guarded Lady Elizabeth. Howard always wondered about those men and how they had held their posts so long. Lady Elizabeth seemed very loyal to her servants. This one, although still straight-backed and hard looking, had taken off his helmet in respect and was almost bald.
"Yes, Master Parry," he said earnestly. "Right under Lady Elizabeth's bedchamber window, he was. Body wasn't seen until the morning when the sun got up over the wall. He was right near the building where it's dark and half covered by the bottom of that big vine. Sir Henry was in a taking, he was. He'll peel the skin off the night watch for letting him get in."
"Grace of God," Parry breathed, but the room was now so quiet that Howard had no trouble hearing him, "was Lady Elizabeth in danger? What did he intend to do?"
"God alone knows what the fool thought he would do," the man-at-arms replied, lips twisting with scorn. "He wasn't armed. If one of the ladies or Lady Elizabeth yelled, I'd of been in there and spitted him. I've spitted worse things than one man. And there's three ladies and Mistress Blanche sleeping in that room as well as Lady Elizabeth. No way was any one going to make it from the window to the bed without waking someone."
Howard could see Master Parry's hand tremble when he lifted his tankard of ale. Parry knew, if Shaylor in his overconfidence did not, that if the man had managed to climb up and get in, he could have stabbed Elizabeth before anyone could come to her aid.
An unpleasant chill spread from Howard's belly up through his chest. Some of the men he had hired were fanatics. The one that insisted on climbing to Lady Elizabeth's bedchamber might just have been crazy enough to have killed the lady so that Queen Mary could leave her crown to a good Catholic heir. Howard didn't care two pins for which rite was used to worship God, but he suddenly felt quite sure that Jesus Christ would not approve the murder of so gracious a lady—gracious enough to call him "cousin"—over whether or not candles and incense were used in church.
His hand went to the place under his full doublet where the purse that was to hire a troop of men to take Elizabeth "alive or dead" lay undisturbed. He had promised to pay the three who accompanied him when they started back to London, but no one except he himself was going back to London.
Howard stared down into the tankard still half full of ale. Why should he return to London? Any hope he had of advancement was dying with the old duke of Norfolk in Kenninghall. Might it be that he would advance farther under the rule of a lady willing to call him cousin even if she preferred the reformist rite?
But London was not the place to wait for that. This fool of a queen with her Spanish marriage was sure to breed more rebellion. The man who called himself John Smith would doubtless want him to help fight the rebels, as he had helped fight poor Wyatt. Nor could he hide himself from John Smith in London. Too many people knew too much about him in London.
Slowly Howard lifted his tankard and drank. He had a heavy purse and four horses. He was already well north and the weather was promising to be fine. He began to smile as he drew his breakfast platter toward him, clapped the thick slice of meat onto one slice of bread, wiped his greasy fingers on the second slice, and clapped that over the meat. He had lost his appetite for breakfast, but the bread and meat would serve for an afternoon bite along the road. It was a good day to ride for Scotland.
No one noticed or cared when Howard left. Master Parry was still intent on the dead man, whose death had decided Francis Howard to have no more to do with those who intrigued to remove Lady Elizabeth from the succession.
"Are you sure Lady Elizabeth was not hurt?" Parry prodded at Sha
ylor, who was not the brightest of the guards.
"Sure as sure. I saw her when she came down to break her fast. Such a good lady. She was concerned that help should be offered to the man if he was not dead. But he was. And Blanche says he never got through the window, that it was still closed when she opened it this morning. And the ladies swear they would have waked and called me if they heard the window opening."
Parry was not so sure of that as Shaylor was. Those ladies, he thought, could barely be trusted not to knife Lady Elizabeth on their own.
He ground his teeth with frustration because that blockhead Bedingfield would not allow him to speak to his lady—as if he could do any real business without her approval. And as if he would plot treason with Bedingfield listening to every word they said. It was fortunate indeed that Dunstan was so clever.
Sighing, Parry looked up at Shaylor. "Thank God Lady Elizabeth is safe." He sighed again. "Tell Master Dunstan that I wish to speak with him as soon as you can, Shaylor."
Elizabeth heard the true tale of the intruder as soon as Denoriel brought her through the Gate not long before dawn.
And Less Than Kind Page 55