Taste of Treason (25 page)

Chapter Thirty-Two

As Rob approached the priest’s house, his footsteps slowed. It was not that he was truly afraid although his stomach danced a jig of panic. His sole objective was to deflect Frayner’s attention away from Luke, find out where Alys was, and go and save her. If he went in unprepared, Frayner was clever enough to realize he was being hoodwinked. So, that meant he must give the priest something to occupy his mind. The only solution was pretending to betray Luke. Mention of the apothecary would be like rubbing a sore for Frayner. Rob grinned, stood up and strode towards the priest’s house.

Frayner’s housekeeper answered the door. She smiled when she saw Rob, but a confused frown played over her brow.

“Please tell Father Frayner that Rob Panton is here to speak with him.”

The frown deepened. “Are you expected, Master Panton? I know the father is working on his studies.”

“I have information he will be pleased to learn.”

An expression of what Rob could only identify as fear swept across her face.

“Very well. Pray enter.”

The housekeeper reappeared a short time later, the priest at her shoulder. His lips parted in what Rob took to be a smile.

“Enter, my young friend. Have you thought about our conversation?”

“Indeed, sir. I think we may accommodate each other.”

Frayner’s smile widened and he rubbed his hands together.

“Excellent.” He turned to the woman. “I shall not need you for the rest of today, Martha. Return tomorrow.”

She bobbed a curtsey, pulled a thin shawl round her shoulders and, with one long look at Rob, left the house.

Rob could see that Frayner struggled to contain his impatience. He could not help a spurt of amusement, which he quickly turned into an embarrassed cough.

“I have thought long and hard about what you said, Father. I would not wish to place my soul in peril.”

“As you will certainly do if you continue to consort with the apothecary.”

“I realize that, sir. Before I tell you what I know, you told me I might have the girl. Do you still say so?”

“I have no quarrel with her. You may take her or not as you wish, boy.”

“But she is gone, sir. I thought that mayhap you...”

Rob saw calculation come into the priest’s eyes.

“Tell me what you know and I will help you.”

Rob took a deep breath. This was the part of his plan that required Frayner to be the type of priest that only did the minimum needed to fulfill his duties. If, as Luke opined, piety was not in the man’s character, then all should still be well. He frowned.

“Sir, I find this difficult. Treachery is not in my nature.”

Frayner laughed. “Come, boy, this is not treachery. It is doing God’s work. Think you that He wants emissaries from the evil one threatening the redemption of devout souls who desire only to sit at His right hand?”

“Father, you said that Master Ballard is a sorcerer.”

“And so he is, boy, as you must know. He cannot have brought his familiars to the house without you seeing them. I am certain that the other one and his daughter are equally guilty, but, for the moment, I bide my time where they are concerned. My first priority is the Outer Green apothecary.” He clicked his fingers in impatience. “Now, come, boy. Spill what you have to tell me.”

“And you can pledge that his powers will not be turned against me?”

“I can.”

“How so? Do you have a protective symbol that I could wear?”

“Indeed. Come and I will give it to you now.” Frayner entered his study and walked to his desk. “I am more than happy to give you an amulet that will ward off the worst the apothecary can do.” He opened a drawer and took out a strangely shaped pointed object. “This is an Italian Horn and will protect anyone from evil spirits. Take it.”

Rob held out a reluctant hand. “I have watched Master Ballard,” he said. “He comes this way several times each week. Yesterday, I followed him, sir. He entered your church in Hampton.”

Rob could tell that this was the last thing Frayner expected to hear.

“My church?”

“Aye, sir. I dared not follow him inside, but I am sure that he uses the building for some fell purpose of his own.”

“This is good intelligence, boy.” Frayner turned away, gazing out of the window. “I will lay in wait for him, then I can catch him in the act of devilry,” he said under his breath.

“You are pleased with my information, sir?”

Frayner looked at him as if he had forgotten Rob was there.

“What? Oh, of course.”

“In that case, sir, where will I find Alys Palmer?”

* * *

The strength of Luke’s fear when he saw Joss lying on the ground was such that the door to Queen Anne’s apartments flew open of its own accord. Without thinking, he picked his greyspring up and cradled her in his arms. He rushed to find the Queen Mother. Flute, already sensing that Joss had been injured, ran to meet him, his mistress close behind.

“How now, Master Ballard. What has happened to your dog?”

Luke could hardly see for the tears that blinded his vision. “She must have intuited the danger to me. She leapt upon my back and the blow that was meant for me hit her instead.”

“Blow? Dealt by whom?”

“Nobody was there, Your Grace. We must assume Nimrod has us in his vision all the time. He hopes to destroy me by destroying Joss.”

“Let me look at her.”

It was with some reluctance that Luke laid Joss on the rushes before the fire. Queen Anne put a hand on his arm.

“Master Ballard, you will be of no use with this. Your bond is too strong for a coherent spell to work. We need Master Dufay. By good fortune, I have already summoned him.”

“We need him in any case. I have had an idea of how to protect the Queen. It will require our combined strength. But how can I function without Joss?”

Luke collapsed onto the seat, impervious to the fact that the Queen Mother still stood. Joss. How could this have happened? If Joss fell, he was destined to fall with her. Was that what this meant? That he would die trying to defend the Queen and her as yet unborn son? Luke felt unutterably weary, so much so, that part of him almost welcomed the prospect of being past his pain and together with Joss in paradise.

A flurry of activity heralded the arrival of Roland Dufay. He looked from Luke to Queen Anne to the still form of Joss on the floor, being nuzzled now by two greysprings, his own and Flute.

Dufay rubbed his hands together before kneeling by the stricken dog.

“There is no need for worry, Luke. She is merely winded. She took the brunt of whatever blow was meant for you. I need some wine and cloves, Your Grace. Might I...?”

Within minutes, Gwenette Paige returned carrying a jug of wine, goblets and a dish.

“I did not know what you required, sir. May I serve wine to Master Ballard? I have never seen him look so faint.”

Dufay looked round. “Wait.” He took a goblet, added cloves and a few pinches of something from his sleeve, together with a paper that he curled into the shape of a cone. The goblet he handed to Gwenette. “Give him this. Luke, it will go down better if you warm it first.”

Without thinking, Luke did just that. Steam rose from the surface of the wine and he upended the goblet draining it. At once new vigor seemed to flow through his tired limbs. His thought processes became sharp again and the lassitude and despair leeched out of him. Dufay had added another concoction to the cone and slid it into Joss’s mouth, before trickling the contents down her throat. Soon she shook her head and stumbled to unsteady feet, weaving her way back to Luke. He threw his arms around her, closed his eyes and rocked her like a child.

“Master Ballard.” The Queen Mother’s gentle voice interrupted his reverie. “You said you had a plan.”

“Aye.” He looked at Dufay. “I remember from my studies a mention of the Gossamer Veil. I know I do not have the level of skill to perform it.”

Dufay nodded. As usual, once faced with an abstract concept, he seemed impervious to the urgency of the situation. “I can perform that. You are thinking of using it on the Queen?”

“No. I am thinking of moving the Queen, her gossips, servants and guards back to her old apartments on the east side of the palace and the spell extending over the whole area.”

“I do not believe that has ever been done before.”

“Then mayhap now is the time to do it. Master Dufay, please stop thinking of this as an exercise in learning. We must succeed. England’s future depends on it.”

Once more, the mention of England’s future awoke that niggling spark of familiarity. No use to worry about it now. Protecting the Queen must be his first priority.

“Can it be done over a set of rooms?” the Queen Mother asked.

Dufay pursed his lips. “In theory, Your Grace, of course. This is really most interesting. It will need our combined efforts to render it effective. If you and Luke can hold the area parameters steady, I am sure I can weave the veil and put it in place.” He looked at Luke. “A very ingenious solution and one I am sure we can achieve. The only problem is how to get the Queen and her retinue from here across the width of the palace without being detected.”

“A misrembrance spell?” Queen Anne asked.

“Possibly. Aye, possibly. This will take some time in the planning. I think it would be best if we all took some rest and food and prepared ourselves.”

“Then I will return to the shop,” Luke said. “Apart from anything else, I must keep Rob in good spirits, believing that we can get his Alys back safe and whole.”

“Is there any reason why we should not?” Dufay asked.

“It very much depends on why Nimrod wants her. I cannot help but think that her fate is tied to the dead girl. The longer this goes on, the more I believe that when Sarah Rivers was no longer available, his anger overcame him, and to keep the plague analogy intact, he killed Edith, when he had her in mind for something different.”

“I could ask Madeleine what she knows of Edith Brook,” Queen Anne said.

Luke looked at her in surprise.

“You think the Queen may know who the girl was? Is that not unusual?”

Queen Anne gave a wry smile.

“You must remember that she came from a more informal court than our own. It is Madeleine’s usual practice to call her maids by their baptismal names and be on familiar terms with them. I believe that if anyone can tell us what we need to know it is my daughter-in-law.”

Luke bowed. “In that case, Your Grace, I will head for home and return later, when darkness has fallen. Mayhap we can ask the Queen about Edith then.”

With Joss once more at his heels, Luke strode out of the west gate past the yeomen guards. There was little need for secret comings and goings now, since the attack on his greyspring had proved beyond all doubt that Nimrod knew precisely where he was.

He entered the shop and walked through to the kitchen looking for Rob. Then he called up the stairs in case the boy had fallen ill and gone to bed. Nothing. A timid knocking at the kitchen door had Luke tensing as much as the time when the demon had tried to gain access to Alys and left the wood splintered and torn.

Approaching the door with quiet care, he looked down at Joss. She showed no signs of fear or alarm. Luke opened the door to see a woman, her shawl grasped tightly over her head. She looked behind her before leaning in and putting a hand on Luke’s arm.

“Sir. Yon priest has your lad, and I cannot think that it is with any good purpose.”

“You mean Rob is with Father Frayner?”

“Aye, and I believe the boy to be in peril. You should go. Now.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Luke’s first impulse was to slam the door behind him and hasten to the priest’s house, but one of the lessons he had begun to take on board was that first impulses were not always the wisest.

He thanked the woman, who he sensed wanted nothing more in this world than to scurry away unseen. Left to himself, he poured a jack of ale and sat at the kitchen table to pull his whirling thoughts into some order.

He felt sure that had something happened to Rob, he would have experienced a shake in the cosmic balance, the same as he would have known had anything befallen Alys Palmer. Try as he might, though, he knew that Rob, loyalties riven by love, found it hard to believe him. By the same token, he also had the utmost faith in the lad’s integrity. Rob was a resourceful young man with the quickness of mind necessary to triumph when danger threatened, as it most certainly did now.

He put his hand on Joss’s head, caressing her silky ears as his mind reached out to find the boy.

“That’s not right, girl,” he muttered closing his eyes the better to concentrate. “Can’t feel a thing.”

Luke had to fight down the fear that rose into his throat like vomit. Had he missed the sign? Was the boy, in fact, dead? Please God, not again. Surely the Lord would not let him continue to suffer the loss of people who grew close to him? This could not be God’s plan for him, could it? To be alone, afraid to make friends, afraid to give of himself, because in the end, he would lose all?

“Balance. Come on, find the balance,” he urged himself. “Addlepated idiot. Of course if Frayner is who I think he is, then he will be able to hide Rob, won’t he?”

He felt certain that, were the intent to kill Rob, Nimrod would choose a time when Luke was a witness. Aye, it was time for calm nerves. He must think like a battle overlord, plan his strategy and not just rush from crisis to crisis in a vain attempt to stave off destruction.

His decision not to run straight to Frayner’s house was a sound one. The enemy would expect it. Luke’s mouth curved into a wry smile. He must do the unexpected, emulating William of Normandy in 1066, pretending to flee, thus enticing Harold’s army to leave the safety of their Hastings hilltop.

His main objectives remained the safety of the Queen and the heir and the destruction of the enemy. In that order. For the first, he would have the help of the Queen Mother and, most important, the Elemagus. For the second he would need Rob and Byram Creswell. He was certain the captain would ensure that his trusted guards took a beaker of the vigilance potion. Should he give it to all those who surrounded the Queen? No, for that might cause her much alarm. The brew could have a strange effect on some people, making them rush around, gabbling nonsense. She did not need that in her condition. Sufficient for the sentries to drink it.

Putting all thought of Rob firmly out of his mind and concentrating on his next move, Luke planned the transfer of the Queen, her servants and gossips back to the set of apartments on the east side of the palace. He would need some kind of misremembrance spell for her household, of course, and another so that Madeleine did not remember Edith’s death in her chamber. The usual one would not be strong enough to cover so many people. Ah, but he could add some powdered thorn apple to augment the disguise, then fennel for strength and a little poppy juice so that as he and Byram shepherded them across the palace they were neither asleep nor awake. That should work.

The best route would probably be via the Queen’s Holy Day closet, but he would take Byram’s counsel. One principal difficulty was moving such a large group unseen and undetected. There would be at least twenty individuals. This was not going to be easy even if the poppy and fennel potion rendered them quiet and biddable.

The most challenging part of the entire plan would be putting the Gossamer Veil in place. None of the apartments’ occupants must be aware of it. Of course, he could try an immobility spell, whilst the three elemancers worked, but there would be quite enough magic flying around the palace at that point.

The most important thing of all was to do nothing that might alert Nimrod. If the sunderer thought he could secure the body of the Queen whilst destroying Luke, the Elemagus and the Queen Mother, he would not hesitate to summon the combined forces of the phrenic constellation to aid him.

Luke thought back to the Normans’ subterfuge at the Battle of Hastings. A ruse. He needed a ruse to make Nimrod think Luke was in one area of the palace when he would, in fact, be elsewhere. There was that spark of recognition again. Luke spent some moments trying once more to track it down and failing. He prayed that if it were important, it would spring into his mind sooner rather than later.

“We need a deception, girl,” he said to Joss. She licked his hand, making him laugh. “And, of course, we’ll need you, too. I must plan a diversion. Aye.” He paused thinking it through. “Why just one, though?”

He felt confident that Nimrod would concentrate his powers on overlooking the whole palace, but surely even he, powerful sunderer that he was, could not be in two places at once. Only God could do that. His thoughts were interrupted by Byram knocking at the door.

“I have chosen the guards. They await my orders.”

Luke handed him a jack of ale. “Good. Which route would you advise the Queen and the ladies to take? We need to keep them out of the public areas and, as much as possible, out of anyone’s sight.”

Byram stroked his chin.

“If it were me, Luke, I would take them via the beer and wine cellars and then through the cloister to the chapel, up to the closets and from thence across the gallery to the turret stairs.”

“There is no shorter way?”

“Not one that would hide them from public view.”

“Then I will meet you later in Queen Anne’s apartments.” They lifted their jacks in a silent toast to success.

* * *

Returning from Luke’s house, Byram encountered Clifford Parry. They greeted each other, but neither stopped to converse. The captain had almost reached the door leading to the King’s private lodgings when he heard a commotion near the arch into Fountain Court. Turning back, he came upon the Queen’s Chamberlain admonishing four kitchen scullions playing football with some poor unfortunate’s cap. A stern word had had them all scuttling back to their pantries. Byram felt sorry for them, especially when Parry picked the cap up lest they come back out to resume their game once he had gone.

“I shall have words with the yeomen warders,” Parry said, answering Byram’s look. “Allowing boys to play football in the precincts as if they were guttersnipe village louts is an affront to the dignity of the palace. Not to mention the King and Queen being in residence.” He bowed. “Pray excuse me, Captain, I must complete another spot check and then see if Her Grace needs any little delicacies.”

Byram nodded and bowed, no doubt feeding the man’s already swollen opinion of himself. Thinking for a moment, he slipped into the Chapel Royal and by degrees, to the Queen’s apartments, praying that Luke’s double bluff would work and they could conceal the Queen in her old chambers. It would also be interesting to see if Parry really did try to gain admittance. A short while later he saw the Chamberlain confronting the door guard and crept nearer, making sure that he was unseen in order to listen to the exchange.

“I merely wanted to know if Her Grace fancied any sweetmeats or other delicacies, that is all,” Parry said. It was interesting to note that his tone had changed from threatening to confidential. The guard leaned closer to him.

“’Tis said that Her Grace is being sent privily to Greenwich.”

“Greenwich. How so?”

“Rumor has it, sir, that she mislikes Hampton Court and is fretting. You can be sure of one thing. If she goes, he’ll go.” To accompany his words, the guard jerked his thumb towards the King’s apartments. “’Tis easy to see that his sun rises in her and hers in him. Mark my words, sir, there will soon be a quiet flurry and a secret boat and they will both be gone.”

Byram hid his smile, thinking it high time he made his presence known. He coughed. The guard sprang to attention.

“I have orders that no man may enter, sir,” he said in a loud voice.

“Master Parry. May I aid you?” Byram asked. He kept his voice at its most cold and suspicious, hiding his amusement at Parry’s reaction of fright, resulting in a babbling reply.

“I did tell you that I needed to ask Her Grace if there were any delicacies I could order. I am a father twice over, Captain. I know that in the final weeks, ladies need to have their appetites teased.”

“That is most kind of you, sir. However, His Majesty has forbidden entry to all save himself, as I am sure my yeoman told you.”

“Indeed he did, Captain.” Parry paused, but Creswell stared at him in silence. A scrutiny that made the blood rush to his cheeks. “Well, I shall not tarry longer. I, too, have my duties.” He almost fell over his feet in an attempt to turn and hurry away.

Byram looked after him and then exchanged glances with the guard. “Well done, Master Fletcher. Stay alert,” he said, his gaze returning to Parry’s departing figure.

“Sir,” the man replied.

Byram was almost at the bottom of the turret stairs when he heard Fletcher’s voice calling him. Turning, he saw that the guard had run the length of the corridor, something held in his outstretched hand.

“Did you drop this, sir?”

Byram took the object. “No, but I know who did. I will return it.”

He made his way without haste to Parry’s office. He wondered what the Chamberlain would think about the Queen’s possible move to Greenwich. Would he be relieved or annoyed that so much responsibility might be taken from his shoulders? Probably the former, but publicly, he would feign disappointment. Byram knocked on the door and opened it.

Parry looked up.

“Ah, Captain. Is the rumor about the Queen moving to Greenwich true? Why was I not informed? It is my responsibility to oversee all arrangements for Her Grace’s household.”

“I understand it is the King’s decision. The Queen needs rest. He wanted little fuss and considered that Master Fry could deal with both households, as they would not be taking many with them. Mayhap you should ask him, sir. However, I really came to bring you this.” He held out the cap Parry had confiscated from the scullions. “You dropped it in the gallery.”

Parry flushed with annoyance. “Oh, thank you, Captain.” He took the cap, frowned and looked back at Byram, color draining from his face.

“Are you certain this is the same cap?”

“Aye. You can see the mud and footprints from the little beggars’ game.” Byram looked more closely at Parry. “Are you unwell?”

Parry looked at him from stricken eyes. “I do not understand,” he said. “This is my cap.”

* * *

Luke turned as Byram gained admittance to the Queen Mother’s apartments. Darkness had fallen and his plans were in place.

“You were right, Luke,” he said. “Master Parry tried to gain admittance.”

“And?”

Byram grinned. “Fletcher told him of the rumor about the Queen being moved secretly to Greenwich. Although I can’t think why he needed to be told. The man’s a weedy minnow and that’s a fact.”

“Bait. He will have expected to accompany her, of course, and will now be wondering why he is not. Will tells me the man is incapable of keeping a still tongue. He will prattle to others in an effort to find out more and soon, the rumor will be all over the palace. We must pray that it reaches the correct ear. Your man did well.”

“Are you ready to move yet?”

“Nay, Master Dufay is making his final arrangements. When he arrives, we will need some little time to prepare.”

A stir at the door heralded the arrival of the Elemagus. Dufay carried a large basket, which he placed on the table. Greeting Luke he asked for the Queen Mother.

“I am here, Master Dufay.” Her step had been so light that none of them had heard her enter.

The three greysprings greeted each other with a solemnity fitting to the occasion before returning to their respective owners.

“Have you prepared the misremembrance spell, Luke?”

“Aye, sir. I have strengthened it. I think we shall have no problems. I have also prepared a potion for the Queen so that she does not remember the incident with Edith Brook.”

“Excellent. And the diversions?”

Luke looked at Queen Anne, her eyes alight with mischief.

“Her Grace and I have managed to arrange a few disturbances, sir.”

“Indeed,” Queen Anne said. “Once we have passed through the wine cellar, there will be a commotion, followed by another a short while later. In addition, we have asked His Majesty to make an unscheduled patrol to check on certain arrangements for the Queen’s comfort. This will give credence to the rumor that she is being moved to Greenwich. We have also suggested to the King that he should appear short-tempered and agitated. It will augment the already high state of tension around the palace and make our movements harder to detect.”

Roland Dufay’s face remained serious.

“Your Grace, I shall need every ounce of your strength and concentration in the task ahead. You also, Luke. We have much to accomplish and little time to achieve it.”

“Then, Master Dufay, we had better begin,” the Queen Mother replied.

Luke nodded his agreement. He also sent up a heartfelt prayer for the success of the mission. If they were detected, everything he had worked for would be lost. The Queen would still be at risk and, more important, so would the safety of the heir she carried. England’s future.