By Slanderous Tongues

by Mercedes Lackey

  When the tableau broke and Harry stepped aside, Mechain and Elidir came up to greet her. Both shook their heads and remarked with smiles on how quickly she was grown from a child to a woman. Elizabeth noticed the frown that came and went on Da’s face, and she said she had a problem that her dearling Denno could not help with, but she was sure that Da could. Harry was obviously surprised, but he looked eager and, Elizabeth saw with relief, smiled apologetically at Denoriel.

  Food and drink appeared on a clean white table in front of the cottage, and as they ate and drank Elizabeth described Somerset’s suspicion of her. “It is quite unreasonable,” she ended. “I am too young to have any influence with anyone, and poor Edward is so lonely!”

  “Sit for the portrait Edward wants immediately,” Harry said, “and write to him. Be careful that there is nothing in your letters beyond the personal and whatever you wish to say about your lessons—as long as what you say does not reflect in any way on any political situation, does not parallel any political situation.”

  “But I may write my affection?”

  “So long as it is phrased within the proper formality and dignity suitable to a king.”

  “Yes, of course,” Elizabeth agreed sadly. “Poor Edward. He never did understand how to separate private friendship from public behavior. I remember when we were private that I used to hug him and kiss him and that he was surprised when I did not do so in front of his tutor or foreign visitors. I think it is possible he was openly too close to Barnaby, which is why Barnaby got sent to France.”

  “And how did you learn this fine art?” Harry asked, amused.

  “Why from Denno!” Elizabeth said with emphasis. “I have been privately loving and publicly distanced from Denno since I was eight years old. I may slip in a glance or two, specially when something is funny to both of us, but in public there is a vast difference between us. Lord Denno is an old friend, so he wins smiles and occasionally even a touch of the hand, but I make clear he is still only a rich merchant.”

  Harry shuddered. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am to whatever caused my illness—no matter that it was ill-intended. I could not have endured much more of the Court.”

  “Well, perhaps Edward will not be so isolated forever,” Denoriel said. “I made it my business to visit Denny and Cecil while Elizabeth was at Court. Denny was uneasy and William Cecil was frankly worried. Both fear that the Protector is making too many enemies. I suspect he will not last long and that Edward will make no attempt to save him.”

  “Nor would I,” Elizabeth said, “but he is all powerful now and his dislike of me makes me uneasy. There are too many people around me all the time, servants I do not know who remain even when I dismiss my ladies.” She looked at Elidir and Mechain. “That is why I hope you will be able to teach me a sleep spell and that I have power enough to use it.”

  Elidir and Mechain nodded.

  “The trouble is,” Mechain said, “that you need two different kinds. You cannot have servants or guards who are supposed to be watching you falling over asleep. The true sleep spell, bod cyfgadur, would be fine for the ladies who attend you at night, once they are in bed, but you need another kind also.”

  Elidir nodded. “The other spell, bod oergeulo, is not so much sleep as a blanking of the mind. The bespelled person would seem to be awake—a guard, for example, would continue to stand and watch—but actually would see, hear, and remember nothing at all until the spell is broken.”

  “Oh, that sounds wonderful!” Elizabeth exclaimed, bright-eyed and grinning.

  “Oh no you don’t!” Denoriel said, shaking his head. “No spell unless you promise to use it only in utmost need. You can get away with stickfast, cilgwythio, and gwythio because they seem like small accidents, but having a person stop like a statue … that could not be thought natural or, worse, it might be interpreted as some kind of disease and ruin that person’s life.”

  “Oh.” Elizabeth sighed, then added somewhat bitterly. “You are right. I never thought of that. Worse, if I should be suspected of causing the state … The last thing I want is to be whispered a witch as well as a whore.”

  “Who said such things of you?” Harry roared, rising.

  Elizabeth caught his arm and kissed his cheek. “No one you can punish,” she sighed. “It is Mary. Mary, who used to be so kind to me, now seems to hate me more and more. I swear I have done nothing …”

  “There is something else,” Mechain said. “You must never, never use that spell with your full power, Elizabeth.”

  “My full power?” Elizabeth repeated. “But whatever that is, I cannot touch it. Tangwystl tried and tried to find a way for me to tap that power.”

  “When you are frightened or very angry,” Mechain said, squeezing Elizabeth’s hand gently, “the gate to that power opens. If you cast the spell with that power, you will wipe out the mind completely and forever. So will you promise me faithfully that you will not use this spell when you are angry or frightened?”

  “I do promise. I do,” Elizabeth said instantly, her eyes wide and her cheeks paler than ever. “Oh, that would be terrible. I would never forgive myself if I made someone mindless. How dreadful.” She swallowed. “Perhaps you had better not teach me that spell,” she added reluctantly.

  Elidir and Mechain consulted each other without speaking and finally Elidir said, “We did consider not mentioning this spell, but Elizabeth, my dear, in the life you will lead it would be very useful to you … very useful.”

  “We can make it harder to use,” Mechain said. “We can teach you the spell so that you must say the whole thing. That would prevent you from pointing at someone and saying fiat when you were in a raging temper. By the time you spoke the whole spell, you would have passed the first, high fury.”

  “But how could I use the spell then?” Elizabeth asked, and laughed. “I mean, no one is going to stand there and let me cast a spell on them—not to mention that I would then certainly be accused of witchcraft.”

  “Oh, no.” Elidir smiled at her. “We are not idiots, my pet. What you would do is say the whole spell in your mind and then point your finger or, better, touch the person and say epikaloumai.”

  “That is Greek,” Elizabeth said. “It means ‘I invoke.’ “

  “So it does,” Mechain agreed. “We use a lot of Greek in our spells.”

  “And there should not be any danger in being slow to call up this spell. It is not for defense, like tanglefoot. You will have time enough to recite the whole thing while you do something innocent, like reading or perhaps embroidering.”

  Elizabeth had begun to smile again. “Yes, I see that.” She took a deep breath. “When do you wish to start?”

  Chapter 27

  It was indeed fortunate, Elizabeth thought as she reluctantly released Denno and slipped into her bed, that time Underhill could be stretched. Between learning the sleep spells—she would have to try the first one on Alice Finch tonight—and cooling the heat that her long separation from Denno had generated, she would not have had time to close her eyes at all in a mortal night. As it was, she had had a full night’s rest before returning to Seymour Place.

  She smiled up at her bedcurtains as she thought it was more than sleep spells Elidir and Mechain could teach her. Before Denno could display his eagerness to whisk her back to Llachar Lle as soon as she had the spells fixed in her mind, and allow Da to think about what they would be doing there, Mechain had said she was sorry to be inhospitable but she and Elidir had to get to the Elves’ Faire. And when Da had asked what they wanted there, both had looked at him as if he were losing his mind and said it was mortal Tuesday and he had told them he wanted to meet Rhoslyn there.

  Da hadn’t told them any such thing, Elizabeth thought, grinning. He had blinked with surprise; but any discomfort he might have felt about Denno taking her off to Denno’s rooms had been pushed out of Da’s mind. And he had gone off with them to see if they could find Rhoslyn with no more than a quick kiss on her forehead and a
“Until we meet once more.”

  Then Elizabeth frowned. Da seemed very interested in Rhoslyn. He had said he wanted to make her comfortable at the ball, but surely his dancing with her and asking her to eat with them was more than kindliness. And she thought there was a distance between Da and Mwynwen now.

  But Rhoslyn was Unseleighe. Was it safe for Da to be interested in her? She would not dare harm him physically; Oberon’s blue star still burned on his forehead, but she could hurt him other ways. Elizabeth drew a breath as pain flicked through her at the thought that Denno might abandon her. No. That could not happen. But what could she do to protect Da? He would laugh at her warnings—she was his little girl.

  She would have to ask Denno. Da would listen to him. But was any warning necessary? Da knew Rhoslyn was Unseleighe, and Rhoslyn was … nice. She had really cared about Richey. Lady Alana liked her. And Da … well, Da was a grown man now. He wouldn’t be pleased that she interfered in his life, any more than she was pleased at the thought that he might interfere in hers. Her instinct told her that Rhoslyn was no longer a threat. Perhaps she should listen to it.

  Sighing and stretching, Elizabeth sat up, leaned forward to look at Eleanor Fitzalan, who was still under the spell Denno had cast, soundly asleep. Smiling, she whispered, dihuno, then lay down again while Eleanor began to stir.

  For the following weeks Elizabeth was aware of little beside the renewed pleasures of her body and the adventures she shared with Denno, and often with Da, Underhill. It was just as well that lessons had been temporarily suspended because Master Grindal was ill. Catherine sent her own physician and Elizabeth sent what comforts she could think of. Now and again, Elizabeth felt a little guilty because she did not worry much …

  … and she felt worse when Grindal died.

  “I should have begged you to bring Mwynwen to him,” she said to Denno and Da, tears streaking her cheeks, a few days after her tutor’s death had been broken to her.

  “No, love,” Da said, an arm around her shoulders so her head rested against his breast. “It would have done no good. Mwynwen cannot cure most mortal diseases. She can draw off elven poisons, break curses, and heal most wounds and elven illnesses, but she could not draw off the mortal plague, which is what killed Master Grindal.”

  “I am sorry about him,” Denno agreed, patting her hand, “and you must grieve, of course, for he served you well, but I must warn you not to grieve too long lest you find yourself with a teacher you will not like. It would behoove you to think of a man you would enjoy learning from and suggest him to Queen Catherine. If she makes an arrangement, I doubt the Protector would interfere, but if you have no tutor …”

  “Master Ascham,” Elizabeth said, the thought of the strict and rigid tutor Somerset or his wife might favor making her sit upright and wipe away her tears. “I know Master Ascham would like to be my tutor; he has hinted as much to me now and again. We do not agree on all subjects, but he taught me to write so beautifully and—” she found a watery smile “—I enjoy our quarrels.”

  “Yes, well, take your preference to Queen Catherine soon,” Denno urged. “The Court has moved to Greenwich, but it cannot be very long before the news of Master Grindal’s death comes to Somerset.”

  Ah, Elizabeth thought, so that was why she had not seen Sir Thomas recently and why Catherine had been so quiet. Thomas must be pursuing Edward at Greenwich, giving him money and hinting that Edward should appeal to the Council for a change of guardians. Edward, Elizabeth had heard Thomas say at dinner one day, would be much happier if Somerset managed the affairs of the kingdom and Thomas managed the king.

  Elizabeth was not certain what she thought of Thomas’ notion. Edward probably would be happier, as Thomas was far more lighthearted than his brother the Protector, but would Edward be a better king for Thomas’ guardianship? She put the thought aside while Da took her and Denno to the Elves’ Faire to seek out steel bolts for his gun … and to meet Rhoslyn. Elizabeth greeted her pleasantly and pretended to be much taken with a pretty silver dagger, but she watched the Dark Sidhe and her Da as closely as she could.

  She forgot all about Master Ascham until she came down to the queen’s parlor after breaking her fast the next morning and found the room empty. Then she remembered that Sir Thomas had doubtless spent the day at Greenwich and either had not come back to Seymour Place at all or had come back very late. So much the better if he were out of the house, Elizabeth thought; she did not trust him not to interfere with her choice of a tutor.

  Having settled herself to a new piece of embroidery, Elizabeth sent Alice Finch to request a meeting with the queen. To her surprise, Catherine did not at once come to the parlor nor immediately send for her. She was not refused but had to wait near half an hour and was then shown into Catherine’s bedchamber.

  The queen was not yet dressed and was sitting rather limply in a padded chair by the foot of the bed. And she did not look well! Catherine was greenish-pale and heavy-eyed.

  Lovestruck herself, the first thing that leapt into Elizabeth’s mind was Sir Thomas’ absence. Simultaneous with that thought came the memories of his flirtations with her and with the other ladies. Catherine had always laughed at what she called Thomas’ antics, but looking at Catherine’s pallid face Elizabeth could not help wondering if the queen now feared her husband was unfaithful.

  She dared not say a word that might imply she had noticed Catherine’s misery, so Elizabeth launched at once into her desire for a new tutor that would suit her taste. Catherine seemed to welcome the subject; they spoke of Master Aylmer, Lady Jane Grey’s tutor, but Catherine hinted that Lady Jane would not be happy sharing Aylmer with the far more animated Lady Elizabeth. And when Elizabeth suggested Ascham, Catherine agreed at once that he would be ideal and that she would write to him.

  That made Elizabeth feel guilty about seeming to forget Master Grindal so quickly, and she mentioned not being so indifferent to his loss as she seemed. Catherine was immediately sympathetic, sighing, and saying she understood. But then she leaned back in her chair, growing noticeably paler and her lady signed to Elizabeth that she should go.

  Only then, with the thought of Master Grindal’s death foremost in her mind, did it occur to Elizabeth that the queen might not be grieved over her husband’s behavior but seriously unwell. She asked the lady who accompanied her back to the parlor, but received no more than a smile and a shake of the head. Next, Elizabeth set Blanche to ask tactful questions of Catherine’s maids. The result was that she was frightened half out of her wits by learning that Catherine was frequently sick and had trouble keeping down her food.

  Then Elizabeth herself waylaid Catherine’s maid and asked what physician had been summoned and what he had advised; the maid was evasive. Elizabeth asked whether there was anything she could do, offering Lord Denno’s ability to obtain exotic and expensive medications. To her surprise the maid seemed to be stifling laughter, but aloud the woman only made excuses and said she knew of nothing that would help.

  If those words had not frightened Elizabeth so much, she would have understood at once from the behavior of the maids and Catherine’s ladies that the queen was with child. As it was, she burst into tears when she reached her own apartment and could not eat her dinner when she regained enough calm to join the company. Fortunately she was not recovered enough to look other than terrified and miserable, and Catherine sought her out and asked what was wrong—which made Elizabeth burst into tears again and wail that she lost everyone she loved.

  The queen was shocked and asked pressing questions, eventually wringing from Elizabeth the fear that her beloved stepmother was failing. Whereupon Catherine began to laugh.

  “Oh my poor Bessie, it does my heart good to know that you love me so much, but you mustn’t fear for me. I did not mean to frighten you. I only did not want to say too much too soon lest Tom be disappointed. I believe I am with child, my dear one. That is why I am sick.”

  “With child!” Elizabeth echoed, catching the queen
’s hands in her own. “Oh by God’s sweet grace, how stupid I am!”

  “Yes, well, it is only two months and one can never be certain so soon.”

  “I will pray it is so, madam. With all my heart, I hope it is so.”

  Later, of course, after the first joy of relief had passed, Elizabeth was not so completely satisfied as she had been. She added prayers for a safe delivery and a quick return to health to her prayers that the queen be truly carrying a child.

  Toward the end of February, Sir Thomas left the Court. He did not seem in a terribly good mood and said nothing about what he had accomplished. He was pleased about the child Catherine was now sure she carried, but less pleased by Catherine’s continued uneasy health. He suggested, and Catherine agreed with some relief, that they should return to Chelsea, where the purer air and water might do her good.

  Elizabeth was equally happy with the projected move and looked forward to the greater comfort of Chelsea some time in March. Although Denno had managed a Gate in her tiny dressing room in Seymour Place, the house was much more crowded than Chelsea Palace and exposure a greater danger. Poor Denno had needed to use the Don’t-see-me spell several times to avoid detection.

  Also in Seymour Place Elizabeth’s rooms were only a flight of back stairs above those of Thomas and Catherine. Only servants were supposed to use those stairs, but one morning Thomas, wearing nothing but a night gown, burst into her bedchamber “to say good morning” to her. Elizabeth sent Blanche scurrying to Kat’s chamber and remained as long as she could behind the dressing room door.

  She came out when Thomas threatened to come in; the dressing room was so small they would have been nearly breast to breast. He made some jest about how long it had taken her to get into her clothing and professed to see some irregularity in the way her points were tied. She was trying to ward him off, having a feeling that the points, which she knew Blanche had tied, would be soon undone and perhaps her skirt down on the floor, when mercifully Kat entered the room.