The Queen's Dwarf A Novel (3 page)

Specimen.
The word sounded as if I were not human. “Thank His Grace, Jeffrey,” my father ordered.

I did not know what I was supposed to thank him
for.
“I am honored—” Buckingham cut me off with a gesture, pacing around the table to observe me on all sides. My skin itched where his gaze touched it.

“I must know what tricks you have used to achieve such perfection.” Buckingham grasped my thigh, kneading the flesh as if he expected it to peel away. I willed myself to hold still no matter how he pinched. The duke inspected first one leg, then the other. My cheeks burned when he pulled up my tunic. Cold air flooded over my naked belly as Buckingham spoke to my father. “Hard to believe you have not padded his clothes with sawdust to mold such attractive lines.”

My parents have not padded me, I longed to say. But they would still be wrapping me in bandages so tight that I’d have no room to grow if I hadn’t learned to twist my body into impossible angles and pull the knots free with my teeth.

“My son is as God made him,” my father said. “You will never see Jeffrey’s like again.”

I tried not to flinch as the duke peeled back my lips, examining my teeth.

Father grasped curls at my nape and pulled my head back until my mouth fell open. He turned me so the candle light could probe deeper to teeth that had been hidden. “Jeffrey is keen as the edge of my cleaver. He learned French when Huguenots moved next door.”

“A butcher’s lad speaking French? It will stand him in good stead, since the queen makes little effort to learn English.”

“My lad hears something once and he remembers it forever.”

“That is a skill I can make use of at court.” Buckingham laid one finger along his cheek. I stared at his face, fascinated. The duke’s beard was groomed to a meticulous point, his mustache feathered broad at each end. The chestnut whiskers drew my eyes to the mouth they framed—his upper lip a trifle fuller than his lower, something oddly feminine in their shape. I had never seen anyone so clean.

“Jeffrey, I will make you king among court fools,” Buckingham said. “In return, I require absolute loyalty. A trumped-up charge of treason is the most expedient way to be rid of an opponent at court. Such affairs are notoriously messy. If I fall, a servant like you might end up on a scaffold along with me. But we will speak no more of such gloomy possibilities. You will unravel the plans of whoever schemes against me. No one will suspect you, even after their villainy is exposed. You look innocent as angels, freak though you may be.”

I did not wince at the word. I was fourteen years old, well-used to being labeled a freak. It no longer made me cry. “Enemies, Your Grace?” I asked.

“You may have heard of some little difficulty in Cádiz?”

Returning with a third of the ships he had set out with did not seem “little” to me.

“The court is filled with people determined to use that misfortune to destroy me. They tell the king lies about me. They did the same with His Majesty’s father when King James loved me. My enemies were certain that when Charles ascended to the throne, I would fall from favor. Instead, I became his dearest friend, his brother in all but blood. Now those enemies believe I hold too much influence over His Majesty. There are even those who wish me dead.”

I tried to imagine the duke suffering such a fate. He seemed above such physical limitations. I wondered what would happen to the families who lived on his estates if such men stole the duke’s holdings.

Buckingham smiled thinly. “The queen herself would rejoice if I were to disappear. But, then, she is not yet seventeen. Too inexperienced to realize someone else would rise up to take my place. Someone who might use the king’s favor in less amiable ways than I do. It is our duty to save the queen from herself.”

“Yes, Your Grace,” I replied.

“It is settled, then. I will take you to court, where the queen has made collecting rarities such as you her favorite amusement. She is behaving like a petulant child, playing with her particular friends and using her curiosities in the masques she loves to put on while she ostracizes those of us who would bend her attentions to unpleasant matters. If you do your work well, Her Majesty will delight in taking you for a pet. I have never seen anyone so quick to lavish affection. You will be vigilant and carry everything you hear back to me.”

I tried to sort out my feelings about a woman who would collect people for pets. Buckingham fingered strands of my hair.

“Her Majesty is a charming woman, Jeffrey. Not beautiful, exactly, but she is so spirited, it scarcely matters.” Buckingham frowned. “You must not be fooled. She is the French king’s eyes, the Pope’s instrument. If she has her way, England will bow to Catholic masters. Do you understand how dangerous such divided loyalties can be?”

“I do.” Cold prickled my neck, and I thought of the medal my brother Samuel had sewn into the seam of my tunic.

Buckingham’s eyes narrowed. “Never forget that you are my dog, Jeffrey. Have you seen what your father does to dogs that will not fight when they are thrown into the bull pit?”

“Answer His Grace, Jeffrey,” my father said.

“Father flings them to the pack to be torn apart, Your Grace.” I had seen that ritual and had held Samuel while he retched all over my shoes.

“It is unpleasant, but it must be done, or the pack will run wild,” Buckingham said. “You understand?”

He spoke with such tender regret, I found myself agreeing with him. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“I trust you will not need an example of this lesson. You have a wealth of other things to learn. Have you ever felt the kiss of silk upon your back?”

He knew I was garbed in my best. “Never, Your Grace.”

“You must have all new clothes.” He touched my sleeve, then rubbed his fingers together to crush any fleas he carried away from me. “The moment the first garment is finished, you will cast this rag into the fire.”

I thought of the medal. “My clothes are precious to me. My family sacrificed much so I might—”

“Jeffrey!” Father jabbed me with his finger. “Be glad of your master’s generosity. Your Grace, I will tear those clothes off him now, if you say the word.”

“Do not concern yourself, John. Your son shows loyalty to the place he came from. I hope he shows as much on my behalf when the need arises.” Buckingham gestured for my father to lift me from the table. The duke’s signet ring glittered.

Father swung me to the floor, his grip so tight, my ribs bruised. If the duke sent me back to the cottage on High Street, I would suffer other bruises, as well.

“I did not mean to offend,” I said. “I will do better.”

“You will have to. The royal court is no place for a butcher’s son. You will have to create a new Jeffrey Hudson, one worthy to associate with the greatest nobles of the land. They attend the most lavish banquets, dwell in the finest houses, and find even the most costly entertainment dull. It will be your duty to make yourself so vital to the queen’s happiness that she cannot bear to be without you, even in her most private moments. You must win a place—not as her court fool, but as her shadow.”

I could barely bring myself to speak to a milkmaid for fear she would jeer at me. Now I was to invite the mighty to laugh at me, including the greatest lady in the land. What if the queen took a dislike to me?

The duke laid steepled hands against his lips. I was struck by how delicate those hands were. “Now we’ve one last question to resolve, Jeffrey Hudson. How much will you be worth? Your father has advised me on the purchase of dogs and bulls that would provide the best sport. What kind of sport will you bring to the baiting ring we call court?”

“Jeffrey earns a pretty sum when he dances in his Fairy Cage,” father said.

“A Fairy Cage?” Buckingham queried.

“That is how Jeffrey earned his bread. Brought him to the square in a birdcage his sister decked with flowers. Hung the cage from an iron hook and claimed he was the King of the Fairies. When people put forth enough coin, we’d open the door. He’d dance while his brother Samuel played a tin whistle.”

Much as I’d hated being poked by the crowd, I would have welcomed the cage’s familiar confines now. It would mean that once night came, I would be sleeping under the eaves with Samuel.

The duke reached into his purse, then dumped a handful of coins into my father’s hungry palm. Father’s eyes widened as he curled his fingers over the shining mass, his fingernails black with blood he could never scrub clean.

“Go back to your dogs, John Hudson,” Buckingham told my father. “There will be more coin in your purse if this whelp I have purchased performs well in the ring.”

Panic pricked me. I edged toward my father, my last tie to the life I had known. “Father, tell Samuel that I will not forget my prayers, and Ann that she may have the ribbon from the Fairy Cage, and John—”

I did not know what farewell to send my eldest brother. John seemed a stranger since he’d left home, worn down like our father.

“You have more important things to attend to than shambles folk now,” Father said. “Mind the duke, Jeffrey.” He leaned down to pat my shoulder, but his hands were full of coin.

He cast me an apologetic glance, then stumbled out of the duke’s presence, leaving me behind. Buckingham settled at his desk and took up his quill. My hands clenched as he started to write. It was obvious the duke was finished with me. What was I supposed to do now? The gilt clock in the corner chimed. I gasped, startled. Buckingham looked up with a scowl. “Be about your business.”

“I do not know where I am to go, Your Grace.”

“You cannot expect me to lead you by the hand! Go prepare yourself to be companion to the queen. There are clothes to stitch, protocol to be taught, alliances to be explained. There will be more subtle skills for you to master once you’ve proven trustworthy.”

What would those skills be? I still had no idea how to proceed, when I heard a scratch at the door.

“Enter,” Buckingham ordered. The door opened, revealing a servant in fine livery.

“Your Grace, a lady begs your indulgence. She is early for your appointment.” I glanced at the door, watching for a chance to slip out.

Buckingham’s mouth curled. “Has my wife gone to deliver alms at St. Coppices, according to plan?”

“The duchess is well on her journey, Your Grace. Shall I send a footman to fetch her?”

“No,” the duke said too quickly. “I would not interrupt her ministrations to our tenants. She takes tender care of them.”

I heard a silvery laugh as a woman in gold satin swept in, blocking my escape. Her gloved hand held a doeskin pouch. A hood concealed all but one dark brown curl. A winter white mask starred with blue gems concealed her from nose to brow. Was there something wrong with her face?

I had seen people scarred by smallpox around Oakham shrink into their skins. However, this woman took up more of the room than her lithe figure seemed to warrant. The part of her face that remained visible was unforgettable. Full lips were painted a deeper scarlet than I had ever seen in nature, a dimple dancing at the corner of her mouth. Her eyes sparkled through catlike slits in her mask, as if she knew a secret the rest of the world was too dull to understand.

“You act as if you are surprised by the duchess’s attentions to the Rutland poor, Your Grace.” She cast the pouch upon the nearest chair. “Once her brothers died of Mother Flowers’s witchery, your wife knew Rutland’s wretches would fall to her charge.”

I had heard the earl of Rutland’s sons had withered away because of a spell cast by a vengeful servant. The duchess had nearly died, as well.

“The estate would fall to her husband’s charge, you mean,” Buckingham said, correcting her.

“A fortune is a great beautifier to an ambitious man,” she said as Buckingham rose and moved toward her. “It is no wonder that the earl of Rutland was determined not to let his beloved daughter fall prey to a fortune hunter. How relieved he must have been to see his fond Kate settled with a worthy man like Your Grace.” Buckingham swept up the lady’s hand to kiss. She captured his wrist.

“Do you like my mask? I was eager to bring you this packet from London, but my husband did not want your enemies to know I carried it.” She skimmed Buckingham’s knuckles against her breasts and rose up on tiptoe to claim a lingering kiss. “It has been too long.”

I edged toward the door, but just as I was about to escape, I trod on her trailing skirts. The woman whirled toward me, startled. Slippery fabric wrenched my feet out from under me. I tumbled to the floor. Humiliation surged heat from my collar to my brow.

“Clumsy child!” she scolded as I scrambled to my feet. In spite of her mask, I could see her eyes widen in surprise. “Why—that is no child. Buckingham, what witchery is this?”

Dread kindled in me. I had been weaned on my mother’s fear that someone would claim I had been sired by the devil and would burn us at the stake, as they had two witches blamed for the deaths of Rutland’s sons.

“I am no sorcerer,” Buckingham told the woman. “A wizard’s daughter like you should know that.”

A wizard’s daughter? The woman made no attempt to deny it. Did they not know how dangerous jests about dark arts could be? Or did the duke and this lady not care?
Why should they
? I could hear my father scoff.
A pack of misery-grubbing Puritans could never harm great ones like these.

“I found him in the shambles,” Buckingham said. “This little man is to be a gift for your mistress, the queen. How fares Her Majesty in my absence?”

“You would have to ask the ladies she brought from France. We English ladies the king appointed to her household are exiled from her chambers. She dislikes me most of all, almost as much as she dislikes you. I wonder she lets you get close to her at all.”

“It hardly matters what she thinks of me. It’s the king who counts, and he’s been in my pocket since he was a stammering little boy barely visible in his older brother’s shadow.”

“Did he find you captivating in the same way old King James did?” she asked, her lips pursed in a way both lovely and mocking.

Buckingham’s face flushed ever so slightly and the muscles in his jaw tightened as he held tightly to his composure. “I took notice of him. That is all. You would be surprised how much return is paid on a little kindness.”