Taste of Treason (5 page)

“I must examine her to find any traces the killer may have left,” he said with as much patience as he could muster.

She considered. “It could provide fodder for gossip if I were seen visiting Goodwife Brook, Luke. People would conclude I was on the Queen Mother’s business, and that could bring her unwanted attention. Allow me some time to think about it,” she said.

“You are a gem among women, Gwenette. I am sure you will find a way.”

“Good. Now, you can show me to the royal apartments using the route my mistress spoke of. They will all be at table. Let us go.”

Luke took Gwenette through to the kitchen to tell Rob of their plans to visit the palace and seize his scrip. Skirting the Tiltyard, they slipped from the grounds through the gate opposite Bushy Park. By degrees, Luke led Gwenette toward the Royal Mews.

Muttering an evasion incantation under his breath, Luke rounded the corner, gesturing to Gwenette to stay where she was. He crept into the furthermost stable block. Although a couple of lads came in and out with buckets and straw, neither of them appeared to notice the visitors. Putting down their buckets, the two boys turned and walked straight back out again.

As soon as the stable hands were out of sight, Luke beckoned his companion forward and sprang towards what looked like a solid wall, pulling on a small knot of wood. At once a door swung open revealing a long dusty passage. Grasping a torch from a rack on the tunnel side of the door, Luke lit it from the brazier. Urging Gwenette to enter, he shut the door behind them.

The tunnel was longer than he remembered and it was several minutes before the ground began to slope upwards. On the alert, Luke saw the stairway cut into the sidewall and gestured Gwenette to precede him. They were now in the palace proper, walking in the gap between two interior walls. Knowing that any sound could prove fatal, Gwenette pointed at the small door to the Queen Mother’s suite of rooms. Luke shook his head, his first task being access to Queen Madeleine’s privy apartments. A few moments later, they emerged into the King’s bedchamber.

This would be the most difficult part of all. They had to get from the King’s apartments to the Queen’s without being detected. The bedchamber was deserted, but a basket of logs had been placed in the middle of the room, covered with sacking. As Luke approached, the sacking shimmered. God bless Anne Boleyn. She had arranged for the logs as an aid to walk through the palace undetected. He and Gwenette exchanged glances and smiled.

“I must go first,” Gwenette whispered. “Carry the logs on your shoulder to hide your face. If we are challenged, I will deal with it.”

Luke noted her eyes alight with excitement like a child about to embark on an adventure. God alone knew what was on the other side of that door. Hauling the basket onto his shoulder, he nodded. Gwenette opened the door and peered out into the gallery.

Chapter Five

Rob felt niggling disappointment that Luke had left him behind. He never knew whether to laugh or despair over the fact that the minute Gwenette Paige appeared, Luke was no longer the calm apothecary listening to ailments. Discomfort poured from him. He shuffled his feet, fidgeted and mumbled the first thing that came into his head. Luke might like to think that he was immune to all women, but it was only in Gwenette’s presence that he became so uncomfortable. Rob liked Mistress Paige and knew that Luke valued her, despite the brusque way he spoke to her. But surely in a situation such as the one Luke now faced, a sturdy, quick-witted lad like himself would have been a more fitting companion?

In truth, the thought uppermost in Rob’s mind was of him being unable to help someone who came into the shop, and thus appearing to be a mindless idiot, but he reasoned that Luke would not have left him behind unless the apothecary thought he could be trusted. So long as customers only wanted the usual medicines, of which Luke kept a goodly stock, then Rob could cope.

He busied himself sweeping the floor and putting down fresh rushes. The sweating sickness had resulted in fewer customers and Rob found time hanging heavy on his hands. He decided to move and wash out all the gallipots, a task that soon had sweat dripping from his forehead and down his tunic. The noise he made prevented him from hearing the new arrival until he turned round. Both he and the girl jumped in shock.

“I beg pardon, young mistress. How can I aid thee?”

The girl appeared to be half-asleep. She looked up at Rob, black pupils large in amber eyes, curls of unruly auburn hair escaping from her cap. He found himself swallowing and, try as he might, he could not tear his gaze away from hers. It was some time before he could discipline his tongue to function.

“Do you require medicine?” he asked in the gentlest of voices. His heart contracted when confusion and fear flooded her face. He put out his hand, took one of hers and drew her down onto a settle, keeping hold of her hand. “Mistress, tell me what ails thee. Where does it hurt?”

She laid her other hand between barely budding breasts.

“Here,” she whispered. “Since Edith died, I cannot eat or sleep.”

“Mistress Brook? You knew her?”

“She was my friend. Younger than me, but not so timid. She looked after me. Made sure that I had food, protected me from the other girls. They are not always kind. I loved Edith. I do not know what to do.”

“Who sent you here? Were you asked to buy medicine?”

She lifted tear-drenched eyes to his, bewilderment writ large across her face.

“I cannot remember.”

Probably hasn’t eaten for days
, Rob surmised. Crept around like a shadow, ignored and unnoticed. He felt a rush of anger that nobody had looked after this little waif. Poor child. Well, she was here now with him. She would not remain friendless and unprotected. Rob rose to his feet and poured a goblet of the restorative that he knew Luke gave people in distress, urging her to drink all of it. A little color came into her cheeks.

“Wait here. I will bring you food,” he said, laying his hand over hers before going into the kitchen. Putting some bread and cheese on a platter, he hurried back into the shop. She must be persuaded to eat.

The empty goblet rolled from side to side in the disturbed rushes. She was gone. He could not help the thought that she had either been frightened into flight or, worse, taken by force.

* * *

Gwenette jerked back and shut the door, turning to whisper to Luke.

“That was close. A few moments earlier and we would have come face-to-face with Ambassador Fuentes. We must wait a while. Then, follow me as if you are merely obeying my instructions. The servants are used to seeing me going to and from the Queen’s apartments on errands for my mistress.” She looked more closely at him. “Cover your hair—it is too distinctive, Luke. Here,” she ordered, grabbing the sack covering the basket of logs, “drape this over your head. Come.”

Luke was unsurprised to discover that the spell on the sacking intensified his senses. He could feel fear mingled with excitement rolling from Gwenette in an almost tangible stream. The atmosphere at court was always heightened with ambition and power-seeking in full play, but he knew that unless she grew calmer, her anxiety would attract the type of notice he was desperate to avoid.

Now that he was on the verge of examining the site of the murder, he worried that he might not have prepared for all contingencies. Indeed, far from the calm, measured thoughts that had occupied him at home, his brain seemed to teem with disconnected images. The more he tried to discipline his mind, the less ordered it became. Was that the sacking, his own anxiety or something more sinister?

Waiting until they had turned a dark corner between the royal apartments, Luke lowered the basket to the ground, making sure for the benefit of any watching eyes that he flexed his shoulders. He needed to make physical contact with Joss and she divined this by standing quite still next to the basket. He could stroke her, but it would appear that he was merely rearranging the logs to make them easier to carry.

Gwenette, aware that he was not following, turned and hurried back to him. He took her hand and put it on Joss’s head.

“I can feel hostility in the air,” he said in a whisper close to her ear. “It is making you more nervous than is wise. Feel the softness of Joss’s fur, lose yourself in its silkiness and let her presence calm you.”

Gwenette closed her eyes and let Joss nuzzle her stroking hand. When she next opened them, Luke could see that her growing apprehension had dissipated. He nodded and swept the basket back onto his shoulders.

“Lead on and have faith,” he said.

He saw Gwenette’s head lift and her back straighten as she approached the door guarded by two sentries.

“Logs for the Queen’s fire.”

The crossed pikes separated and one sentry opened the door. Gwenette pointed towards the fire. “Put them there,” she said in a loud voice, turning only when the door closed. Luke did as he was bid, checking that the apartments were empty.

“There is nobody here,” he whispered, suddenly alarmed.

“It is something my mistress has arranged, but these rooms will not remain unpeopled for long. Luke, you must make haste. How can I help?”

“Tell me as much as you remember of the night Edith Brook died.”

Gwenette smoothed down her skirt. “My mistress sent me to the Queen with the gift of a pearl that his late majesty gave her when she carried the King.”

“What time of day was it?”

“It was almost time for Her Grace to retire. When I entered, she appeared fretful, although her ladies did much to try and win smiles from her.” Gwenette looked up and proceeded on his nod. “She wished to bathe. The Mistress of the Robes attempted to talk her into waiting until the warmth of day, but the more she cajoled, the more the Queen determined she would wash herself. I remember her saying something about being fragrant for the King.”

“Aye. All know he follows his father in matters of bathing. So, I assume that this child was instructed to fill the tub.”

“Aye, but Her Grace did not want everyone to see her condition so clearly, so she instructed that a bath be filled behind the curtain. But then it was forgotten. When the Queen saw the pearl, she decided she must wear it the next day and ordered that her jewels be brought so that she could choose a chain.”

Luke gazed around deep in thought. He could imagine the size of the pearl and doubted if Madeleine had ever seen anything to match it. That distraction and the deep shadows would allow anyone to enter unobserved and kill the maid. They would merely have to get past the guards and ushers on the door, a simple matter for a sunderer.

Gwenette watched his every move, seeming to divine his thoughts.

“Was it a woman, Luke?”

“Possibly. Why do you think so?”

“Because if she was noticed, it would be assumed she was a maidservant, but had it been a man, there could be no excuse for him being in the Queen’s Privy Chamber.”

“That is well argued and logical. I wager you are right. Show me where the young maid was found.”

Gwenette hurried through to the chamber next to the Queen’s bedroom and pulled aside a heavy brocade wall hanging.

“Here.”

Luke prevented her from stepping into the space. His lips tightened. Superstitious servants, doubtless too afraid of evil spirits to do a thorough job, had made only feeble attempts to erase the blood splashes. The last thing that Madeleine needed in her condition was a constant reminder of the atrocity that had taken place close to her person. The natural shock she must have felt at the death of one so young and in her service could have had disastrous consequences.

“How did the Queen react?” he asked.

“She almost swooned and became hysterical. I ran for His Majesty. He came running to see for himself, but could not calm her. It was not until Father Reynard was summoned that she became quiet and composed.”

“Father Reynard is her confessor?”

“Aye. He appears to be the only person Her Grace trusts absolutely although I believe there are signs that His Majesty is gaining in that field. Since the murder, the Queen will not venture into this chamber. She says the place is tainted and keeps to her Presence Chamber.”

“Where does she sleep?”

Gwenette colored and frowned.

“The King has promised that she shall sleep in his chamber until this one has been cleansed and blessed.”

“And what does her priest think of that?”

“He is outwardly affable and dutifully submissive, but his thoughts are his own.”

Luke grunted. Reynard was a side issue and he was wasting time. He walked back to the door, noting the placement of the torches that, apart from the fire, would have been the only source of light on that night. It would be a simple task for anyone to slip around the chamber in the shadow of the wall hangings and waylay the maid, especially when all the women were cooing like doves at the pearl. Had the killer known in advance of the gift?

“When did Queen Anne decide to give Her Grace the jewel?”

“My mistress had spoken of it that morning to both King and Queen.”

That was one question answered. Anybody could have known.

Now that he could see the scene of the murder, he was stricken with doubts as to what material use his journey had been. The only evidence was a bloodstained floor. What he really needed to have seen was the body in situ. Was there any residue left that he could tune into? He relaxed his shoulders and closed his eyes, aware only of Joss’s nose at the back of his knee. Gwenette had dropped the hanging back in place and was on the other side. He knew she would warn of any interruption.

Luke opened his mind. There was a good chance that poor little Edith Brook was trapped in the misty in-between world, frightened to go on, unable to return. He concentrated on calling to her, assuring her that he could help and telling her that there was no need to fear. He sent the message out four times, but to no avail.

A horrible suspicion formed in his teeming brain, but before he tested his theory, he must clean up all traces of Edith’s death and purify the atmosphere. A year ago, this would have taxed him, but twelve months had taught him much, not least to trust his abilities. He rubbed his hands together until he could see the halo of light around each finger, then flicked drops of pure white light to all corners of the space. He watched as they turned a dull red, gathering them in one wave of his fingers.

“Is all clear?” he asked through the hanging.

“Aye.”

Luke walked quickly to the fire and cast the contents of his hand into its heart. Flames flared yellow then hissed into bright orange flecked with magenta and with a squeal shot up the chimney. Luke nodded, his face grim. Diablerie.

“Now for the chapel wall,” he said shaking Gwenette’s arm as she stared wide-eyed at the fireplace. She licked dry lips.

“Of course. We can go down the turret stairs to the lower level from the end of the gallery. Let us wait until the sentries are at the farthest ends and then slip out.”

Gwenette edged the door open as Luke leaned his head on the wall, eyes closed. He could hear the tramp of the sentries growing quieter as they reached the farthermost part of the corridor. The longer he spent within the Queen’s apartments, the greater the chance of discovery. Although he knew and trusted Gwenette, part of him was uneasy at the thought that his safety was dependent on a woman. Was it just because it was this woman? Or, was it because he had grown to rely on her, something that sat ill with him? With a jolt he opened his eyes and sprang forward, every sense alert. His thoughts were being probed. Had the cleansing spell awoken the enemy? What was paramount now was finishing this part of the enquiry and regaining his house in safety as quickly as was feasible.

He realized the probing was intended to hinder his mental capacity. It diverted him from the task and slowed him down, so detection by the enemy was probable. Worse, he would be less likely to observe something that might prove vital to his investigation. He countered by visualizing his mind as a curved mirror, accelerating the arc of the invasive inquiry directly back to its source. He grinned when he felt a slight shake in the cosmic balance, realizing the enemy had not expected to be detected and had not prepared for a counterspell.

The wall outside the chapel had been cleaned and whitewashed. For Luke its location was a blessing and a curse. In a public part of the palace, his risk of detection by the enemy was not as acute. At the same time, anyone coming around the corner from the kitchens or the courtyards would see him and ask questions.

He had intended to perform a revelation spell on the wall. For a few heartbeats, he would be able to see the writing before it faded back to white. However, the middle of the day towards the end of a meal was not a propitious time. Far better to return when he would be undisturbed. It would give him time to prepare something to thwart any attempt to examine his mind again. That some magic force overlooked the Queen’s apartments was irrefutable. Yes, the
malus nocte
were here.