By Slanderous Tongues

by Mercedes Lackey

  “Oh, I do,” Elizabeth admitted, “but nothing that would require a locked door. Do you remember, madam, the furs that Lord Denno brought for us in the late winter? I have been wondering whether I could extract a few more fox furs from my poor Denno. Really the fox fur is too long to make good trimming. Just a few more and I could have a lovely short cape for the autumn.”

  “Poor Lord Denno indeed,” Catherine said. “And I suppose I am supposed to invite him to dinner so that you can plunder his warehouse again? For shame! He is far too generous to you. Likely I should not permit … Ah, but I have sinned that way myself, have I not? I also accepted the furs he presented to me.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said, blushing again, “I would like you to invite him.”

  “You are a shocking child,” Catherine said, leaning forward and stretching a hand to Elizabeth. “You should not accept so many favors.”

  “He asks for nothing in return,” Elizabeth said quickly, and then swallowed hard as she remembered what she had paid in return for Denno’s long loving.

  “I know.” Catherine sighed. “That seems unnatural in a common merchant, even if he does claim foreign nobility. It worries me, a little.”

  “But he has always been that way,” Kat Ashley put in. Her shaky finances had been shored up too often by Lord Denno for her to contemplate his company being forbidden. “From the time Lady Elizabeth was only a baby, and I know that he was just as devoted to the late duke of Richmond. In all those years he has never asked a favor or any kind of preferential treatment in tariffs or such matters.”

  “He is too rich to care,” Lady Alana said, smiling. “I think he continues to trade as an amusement; he has a most astute man of business to do the dog work. And he continues to cosset Lady Elizabeth, because he has nothing else to love in his life.”

  “Why did he never buy land? Marry? Could he not have made a new life?” Queen Catherine asked doubtfully.

  Lady Alana sighed. “He lost too much. His entire family. Everything except the business. He survived because he was on a trading voyage when the Turks overran Hungary. Years ago the pain was too fresh. He could not marry and have children for fear of more loss. Now, he is too old, I think. I suppose he could have bought land, but he has no one to whom to leave it. He had rather have Lady Elizabeth to care for and spend his goods on.”

  “How sad,” the queen said with ready sympathy. “Well, of course I will invite him to a private dinner.” She could not invite a merchant to mingle with her noble friends; then she thought of another problem, hesitated, and asked doubtfully, “About what will he talk? Trade?”

  Elizabeth and Alana laughed together, and Kat smiled. “Most likely,” Kat said, “about gardens. He is very fond of flowers and this is a good season for them. But he is a most courteous gentleman. He knows I do not care much for a garden except to walk in it, so if he sees the subject is dull for you, he will find others. To me, he talks about music and masques and even the newest plays.”

  “Then I will certainly invite him. I will sit down and write a note right now.”

  “But not religion,” Elizabeth remarked, wishing to warn Catherine away from her favorite subject. “He will listen but never approve, disapprove, or argue any point.”

  Catherine laughed ruefully. “He will get along very well with my dearling Tom then. He always has the best of reasons to disappear as soon as one of the chaplains or scholars begins to speak.”

  The dinner to which Catherine invited Lord Denno was a resounding success. They sat only six to the table in the small dining parlor: Catherine herself, Elizabeth, and Kat Ashley; Lord Denno, William Grindal—Elizabeth’s tutor—and John Whitney, a gentleman-in-waiting. They were very merry, with Lord Denno telling tales of his travels and holding his own on every subject, including disputation about a Latin term and a lively discussion of swordplay from horseback.

  When on another occasion Sir Anthony Denny arrived unexpectedly on some Court business and had to be invited to dine, Catherine was forced to mention with some embarrassment that she had also invited the merchant Lord Denno. But Sir Anthony was delighted. Lord Denno was an old friend, he told her. He had been so busy that he had not seen him recently, but it would be his pleasure to meet Lord Denno again.

  Thus when, two weeks later, Sir Thomas had returned home and Catherine sensed he was growing restless in the quiet of Chelsea, she thought Lord Denno would be a safe diversion. Catherine was not yet ready to have any of Tom’s political cronies taking up his attention and possibly drawing him away from her, but Denno might provide variety. Denno could talk horses and dogs and even engage in some practice swordplay with Tom, and Catherine thought Lord Denno’s courtesies to Elizabeth would amuse Tom—she so young; Denno so old. Surely no man as handsome and virile as Tom could find Lord Denno a threat.

  Unfortunately Catherine had forgotten the men had met before. She only recalled, when Tom stiffened up upon Lord Denno’s arrival, that Tom had resented Denno’s presence in her chamber when Denno had come to tell her of Elizabeth’s need for a home. Tom was contemptuous of a mere merchant. After the first rude slight, Lord Denno fell silent, although he looked more amused than insulted. Elizabeth, however, burst into tears and left the table. Catherine signaled her servants to curtail the meal and the discomfort soon ended.

  Afterward Tom delivered a tirade about the unwisdom of his wife engaging in such an unnatural friendship. Catherine was about to point out that Sir Anthony Denny had found Lord Denno acceptable company and that Denno was Elizabeth’s friend and had been Elizabeth’s friend all of Elizabeth’s life. However, before she could defend herself, Tom roared that he did not want any rich, old men running tame around his wife. Catherine blushed with delight and forgot everything except that Tom was jealous of her. Without another thought for Elizabeth she readily promised never to invite Lord Denno to her house again.

  The next day when Tom had gone out, Catherine felt guilty about depriving Elizabeth of her friend but could not bear to cross her beloved and delightfully jealous husband. She decided to break the news that Lord Denno must be forbidden the house at once to give Elizabeth time to recover from her disappointment. She did not want Elizabeth to show an angry or tear-stained face to Tom, or indeed to give him the sharp edge of her tongue. That might give Tom a distaste for Elizabeth, which could make difficulties.

  To Catherine’s surprise, Elizabeth only sighed and said with perfect calm that it did not matter. Later in the day, after a dinner about which Catherine had strong anxieties but which turned out to be especially pleasant because Elizabeth was particularly lively and amusing, enlightenment dawned.

  Catherine knew how tenacious Elizabeth could be and she realized the girl’s calm acceptance of forbidding Denno’s visits could only mean that Elizabeth had no intention of giving up his company. Elizabeth rode out with only her own guards and grooms to accompany her three or four times a week. Doubtless she would meet Lord Denno then and perhaps in public places like the markets of London. She had been constrained when she met him in company. Likely she would be more free with only her household, who knew him well, as witnesses.

  Frowning down at her needlework, Catherine wondered whether she should even try to do anything about it. She glanced quickly at Elizabeth, seated across from her near an open window. The light turned the girl’s hair to flame, lent a glow to her pale cheek, and marked the faint upward curve of her lips into what was nearly a smile.

  Elizabeth also seemed absorbed in needlework, but she was clearly thinking about something pleasant. Catherine sighed softly and dismissed the idea of trying to prevent Elizabeth from meeting Lord Denno. Elizabeth was her guest, not her prisoner. To try to control her would only drive her away and likely into trouble. The girl would come to no harm in Lord Denno’s company and, Catherine reminded herself, she had only promised Tom not to invite Lord Denno to the house. It was herself Tom wanted separated from Denno; he did not care about Elizabeth being in his company.

  Elizabeth
was indeed smiling at her thoughts, which were mostly centered on Denno’s coming, as soon as everyone was asleep, and taking her Underhill. He had done so every night since their first coupling, even when her courses were on her and they could not make love. She discovered that the physical act hardly mattered when they knew they could take that pleasure at any time. It was enough to lie together in Denno’s bed to kiss and cuddle and talk.

  The sigh she had uttered when Catherine told her that Tom did not think a merchant a suitable friend for Henry VIII’s daughter had been one of pure relief. If Denno was forbidden to come to Chelsea, Kat and her maids of honor would not think it strange that he did not visit and she would not need to meet her dearling in their company again.

  She had felt, when she asked Catherine to invite Denno to dinner, that she could not bear to be parted from him for an extra moment. She had not realized she would not dare fling herself into his arms, touch him, kiss his smooth skin, stare at him as if she was about to eat him whole. She hardly dared address a word to him, lest her voice betray her love and her longing. That first dinner had been pure torture.

  The second dinner had not been so bad. They had been lovers for more than a week and she was growing to believe her joy would be lasting. The bursting rapture of their lovemaking was no longer so new and so overwhelming. She had had time to absorb and accept that the pleasure was no one-time thing but infinitely renewable.

  She had been able to speak to Denno at that second dinner, even give him a smile without betraying how their relationship had changed. Of course, Sir Anthony Denny took up nearly all of Denno’s attention, but she was able to bear that also, sure now that Denno was all hers. In all other ways than being her lover, her Denno was still her Denno, as indulgent in some things and as inflexible in others.

  The smile on her lips deepened a little. She had been shocked when she asked him to cast a glamour on her so that she could go with him to a particularly bawdy new masque she wanted very much to see. Denno had flatly refused. It seemed a betrayal for him to be able to resist her in anything, now that she had given him the joy of her body. She had allowed her eyes to fill with tears and said tragically that he could not love her if he refused to satisfy her desire for a little amusement. And he had replied, as he had throughout the years, that no matter how much he loved her he would always refuse to give her what would do her harm.

  “I am the one person in this world or any other,” Denno had said, “who cares more for your good than for any other thing. It was my duty and is now the dearest joy of my heart also. I will always stop you from doing anything that would hurt you no matter how much you resent it. And I will always tell you that you are doing wrong when you are doing wrong.”

  At the time she had been furious. She had jumped out of bed and threatened never to couple with him again. And when he did not respond with instant submission, she had demanded to be taken back to Chelsea at once. Without a word he had banished the illusion that brought back his youth, had called clothing to his body, and had Gated them both back into her dressing chamber.

  He did not say he would come again the next night so she could deny him furiously; he did not even ask when he should come again. He saw her to the door of her bedchamber and lifted his hand to banish the sleep spell he had laid on Frances Dodd, who was the maiden on duty that night and slept in the truckle bed beside Elizabeth’s.

  But Elizabeth had had time to recognize the Denno who, so many years ago, had disagreed with her about changing her garden because he knew her willful notion was wrong. A flicker of Foreseeing touched her, of a future in which his steadying good sense in resisting her desires would keep her from grave error. Elizabeth caught his hand and then threw her arms around his neck. He was rigid as granite.

  “No, don’t let her wake,” she had whispered. “Take me back. But you must explain why it is wrong for me to go to that masque.”

  He had refused at first, and Elizabeth had realized she had really hurt him. But then he yielded, and once again Elizabeth was assured that his words were utterly true. He only ever refused what she asked when it could do her harm. The needle flew in her fingers and the pattern of tiny fairies flitting around a climbing vine of golden flowers took shape.

  It was a particularly lovely piece, which Elizabeth had designed herself: tiny, fantastic creatures on a very narrow ribbon on which Denno could hang keys or a pomander. She knew that he could make far more valuable things, chains of gold or platinum studded with jewels, but she thought he would prize this because it was her handiwork.

  Chapter 24

  When Sir Thomas Seymour had traveled west, he had still been very unsure about the advice the charlatan Otstargi had given him. He had brought with him a substantial force to take and punish the pirate Thomessin, who had seized on the Scilly Isles and was using them as a base for his piracy. He found, however, just as Otstargi had suggested, that Thomessin was very ready to share his spoils and to influence others in Sir Thomas’ favor.

  Sir Thomas had then occupied Lundy Isle, which he made available to other pirates on the same terms he had given Thomessin, ignoring the protests of the French ambassador. That was a mistake because the ambassador had brought his protests to Sir Thomas’ brother, the Protector. Somerset had written Thomas a furious letter, but Thomas had faced him down, writing back that the pirates were too elusive and that the French ambassador was maligning him apurpose to make trouble between them.

  There was some reason for Somerset to believe that. His dealings with Scotland were becoming more and more difficult and he had received evidence that the French were supporting the Scots in their resistance to marrying their infant princess, Mary, to King Edward. It seemed quite mad to Somerset that the Scots should resist so simple a solution to the long years of war between the two nations.

  By May, when Thomas returned to Chelsea, Somerset was already beginning to plan his campaign against Scotland to take the princess by force of arms if he could not have her by diplomacy. The French were certainly urging the Scots to remain intransigent so their ambassador’s tale of Thomas’ dealings with the pirates had become less convincing. When Thomas came to pay his respects to the Protector, Somerset did not chide him about the privateering in the narrow sea.

  That plus the substantial sums Thomas had carried east from the isles and from his share of the clipping and other devices William Sharington was using to bilk the Bristol Mint made Thomas believe that possibly Otstargi was more than a charlatan. And every time Thomas looked at the glowing ruby Otstargi had given him, he felt a strong urge to consult the man again, charlatan or not. Certainly Otstargi had given him profitable advice. Thus, Sir Thomas sent a message to London informing Otstargi when he had arrived in Chelsea.

  He was annoyed when he did not at once receive a deferential reply begging to know when it would be convenient to him for Otstargi to make an appointment. He was even more annoyed when the answer finally came. In addition to simply stating that Otstargi would be willing to receive him in a week’s time, the note said, “Make sure that the person known as Lord Denno is no longer welcome in your house. He is a great danger to the success of your most important enterprise.”

  The fortune-teller had overreached himself, Thomas thought, tossing the note aside. Although the name sounded familiar, there was no Lord Denno in the household. However, only a few days later his wife mentioned that Lord Denno had been invited to dinner. Then Thomas recalled that the man was a rich merchant who had made a valuable gift of furs to Catherine and been entertained alone with her in her parlor.

  At that time such gifts could have reduced his influence with Catherine. Thomas remembered he had decided to be rid of Denno, who was of no importance. He had set a watch on him and when he learned Denno was coming to the palace again, had directed two of his men to remove him. Those men had been found dead the next day. Thomas remembered the chill he had felt when he had the news, but no harm had come of his too-casual order. Denno had taken the warning and not again t
ried to reach Catherine, and Thomas had been glad to let the matter drop.

  I should not have done so, Thomas thought, when he saw Catherine greet the man with the warmth of an old friend. He had been hoodwinked, Thomas decided; the encroaching commoner had somehow continued to see Catherine. But Thomas was no longer a suitor hoping for favor. Now that Catherine was his wife he needed no subtleties. As a husband, he could simply give an order to cut Denno’s acquaintance and be obeyed. Nonetheless, his respect for Otstargi, who had foreseen or learned of Denno’s intrusion into the household, increased.

  He went to his appointment with Otstargi with rather more interest than he had felt on his first visit. Nor was he disappointed; after they had discussed the success of the ventures with the pirates and with Sharington, Otstargi told him to decline the offer to command the army that was to be sent by sea to support the Protector’s invasion of Scotland.

  Thomas frowned. “I will be called a coward.”

  “Oh, no. Suggest instead that the Protector make you lieutenant-general of the south to guard against any French invasion. Somerset will be very glad to do it, since it will keep you from dimming his glory.”

  “I am not so sure I want him to reap too much glory in Scotland.”

  Otstargi laughed. “He will win a battle but lose the war. He will not get the princess, and meanwhile you will have a chance to make yourself pleasant to the landowners, most of whom your brother has managed to offend. You might even put the coin you have gathered to good use and collect arms and men—you can say they will be sent north if the Protector needs them, but they will be your men.”

  Thomas’ eyes glittered. “That sounds like good advice.”

  “All my advice is good. So, have you yet discovered who is the young girl with red hair who seems always to be in my images with you?” Vidal/Otstargi knew perfectly well that the red-haired girl was Elizabeth, but because he could not set watchers on her or, indeed, anywhere in Catherine’s household lest she or Blanche sense them, he needed Thomas to tell him what was going on.