The Tudor Secret Part 18

"Because I say so! G.o.d's teeth, am I not the leader here? Is it not my head that stands to roll if we fail to capture that papist witch?"

"Begging your pardon," retorted a gruff voice, "but we all stand to lose here, my lord. None of us wants to see a Catholic queen set the Inquisition over us, which is why we shouldn't have left our soldiers behind to wait for us. What if she has more retainers than we think?"

Robert scoffed. "You heard her steward at Hoddesdon. At the most, she travels with six: her treasurer, secretary, chamberlain, and three matrons. We don't need a host of soldiers to catch her. They'll only slow us down."

I had to smile. Out in the middle of a road, in the middle of nowhere, and still they trembled in their boots over what one embattled spinster might achieve. It was good to hear that, like her younger sister, Mary Tudor had a reputation.

Then my entire being went cold as I heard a voice drawl, "Perhaps we should come to an agreement, gentlemen, before she sets sail for Flanders and returns with an imperial army at her back. We'll need more than soldiers then, I can a.s.sure you."

Stokes. He was here, among Robert's men.

Robert conceded. "Yes, we can't afford to waste more time. She fled Hoddesdon and has been riding nonstop. All the signs indicate she's on her way to Yarmouth. She has to take refuge somewhere, if only to rest her horses. Most likely she'll seek out a sympathizer. I ask you, how hard can it be to track down one old woman and her servants on their way to Norfolk?"

"Hard enough," said the gruff voice. "Considering we've not seen hide nor hair of them. I still say we should head east. There are plenty of papists sympathizers there, too."

"And I say I've had enough of your b.l.o.o.d.y dissension!" Robert slammed his fist on his thigh, but I knew him well; I detected an unwitting fear in his voice. My former master was scared, and that gave me hope. "You've set us by our ears since we started out," he snarled, "and I for one am starting to wonder at your purpose. Are you with or against us, Master Durot?"

I watched this Durot swing about on his horse, a large muscular figure clad in a quilted doublet and oversized cap, equipped with sword, short bow, and quiver of arrows. "If you're questioning my loyalty," he said "and by implication that of my master Lord Arundel, I can always head back to London to report on your progress. I feel no pressing need to continue on this particular goose chase."

Robert glared. "You might not, but your master the earl has every need. He's made a fortune off pillaging the abbeys. I don't think he'll appreciate having to explain himself to Queen Mary and her friars," he added sarcastically. "So I suggest you follow my orders, lest you'd rather see your master hang from a gibbet."

Durot didn't respond. Robert swerved to the others. "Anyone else have cause for complaint? Best speak now. I'll not tolerate it later." When none spoke, he said, "We'll head east. This area is infested with Catholic landowners. She could be hiding with any one of them. If we have to search house by house, we will." He flung his next words at Durot. "Lest we forget, she doesn't have the brains to fool us, even if she tried."

No one argued the point. Digging spurs into horse flanks, they charged off.

I slipped back to Cinnabar. Peregrine waited at the crest. "To Suffolk," I told him.

We rode at an unflagging pace, hours slipping past as dawn drenched the sky in mauve. Though I had trusted my gut, as the countryside emerged from night into a placid vista of rolling vales and hills, I began to wonder if I had relied too much on it and not enough on harsh reality.

Could Mary have gotten this far? Or was she at this very moment being marched out of her hiding place at the tip of a Dudley sword, bound for the Tower? Rather than chasing her, shouldn't I be rus.h.i.+ng to Hatfield to warn Elizabeth and beloved Kate, and making for the nearest port before the duke arrested us all?

I wiped a hand across my chin. My beard itched. Tugging off my cap, I let my matted hair tumble to my shoulders, glancing over at Peregrine. The boy drowsed on his saddle. We had to stop soon. Even if the horses held out, we couldn't.

A half hour later I spied a manor ahead, nestled among orchards, a veil of bluish smoke hovering over chimney and courtyard. From this distance, it almost looked deserted.

"Peregrine, wake up. I think we've found her."

The boy started, raised bewildered eyes. "How do you know?"

"Look at the courtyard. There are horses tethered there-seven, to be exact."

We rode into the courtyard with our cloaks thrown over our shoulders to expose the sheathed blades at our belts, our hands free and heads uncovered. I instructed Peregrine to remember my new name and refrain from appearing perturbed, while I in turn feigned a calm I did not feel, as servants preparing the mounts froze in midbuckle of stirrups. One of three men overseeing the operation lifted a firearm. The other two advanced. Both were in their middle years, dressed in yeomen garb, their bearded faces haggard.

The elder of the two-who held himself with the dignity of a steward despite his attempt to appear common-barked, "Who are you? What is your business here?"

"Who I am doesn't matter," I said. "My business is a missive for the queen."

"Queen? What queen?" The man guffawed. "I see no queen here."

"Her Majesty Queen Mary. The missive is from the council."

The men exchanged terse looks. "Find Lord Huddleston," the older one directed, and the other ran off. "Jerningham, keep that musket aimed," he ordered the man with the firearm. The servants didn't s.h.i.+ft an inch. "Dismount," ordered the man. Peregrine and I obeyed.

A moment later, a harried portly gentleman I a.s.sumed was the aforementioned Huddleston bustled out. "I advised her not to, Master Rochester," he said in a worried tone, "but she says she'll see them in the hall, providing they are unarmed."

The man Rochester turned a stern eye on me. "Your lad stays here."

Detecting the lingering scent of roast as I was escorted into the manor, my stomach rumbled. Rochester was at my side, the armed Jerningham at my back, and Huddleston ahead. At the entrance, Jerningham backed into the shadows, from where I had no doubt he would continue to aim his weapon at me. Rochester and Huddleston led me forth.

A slim figure clad in bucolic dress stood before a table. The men bowed. Dropping to one knee, I glimpsed a map on the table, alongside quill and paper, flagon and goblet.

A surprisingly brusque voice said, "Rise."

I came to my feet before Mary Tudor.

She did not look anything like Elizabeth. She more closely resembled their cousin, Jane Grey-short and too thin, with a hint of red-gold in the graying hair parted under her coif. Unlike Jane, Mary's age and her sufferings were written on her face, etched in the crevices of her brow, the webs cradling her lips, and the slackness at her chin. Her thickened hands were clenched at her girdle, each of her long fingers ringed. Only in her eyes could be discerned that indomitable Tudor strength-forceful gray-blue eyes rimmed in shadow, meeting mine with a directness that imparted she was a superior being.

I recalled Elizabeth's words: She has always believed the worst of people, never the best. Some say it is the Spaniard in her. But I say it is our father. She has always believed the worst of people, never the best. Some say it is the Spaniard in her. But I say it is our father.

Her voice came at me with strident force. "I'm told you bring a missive." She thrust out her hand. "I would see it."

I removed the envelope from my interior pocket. Turning to the light, she tore it open and peered. Her frown deepened. She looked back at me. "Is this true?"

"I believe so, Your Majesty."

"You believe believe? Have you read it, then?"

"I would not be much of a messenger if I failed to memorize so important a missive. Such letters, if fallen into the wrong hands, can prove dangerous."

She gave me an appraising stare. Then she paced to the table with brisk steps. "This dangerous letter," she declared, with a hint of asperity, "is from none other than my lords Arundel, Paget, Suss.e.x, and Pembroke, all of whom served my brother and who now inform me that while they've no desire to see me deprived of my throne, their hands are tied. The duke's hold, it seems, is too powerful to resist. They fear they must uphold my cousin's claim, though Jane has expressed no desire to rule." She paused. "What say you?"

Her request took me aback. Though she hid it well, I sensed her trepidation. Thrust into notice after years of obscurity, forced to flee within her own realm, Lady Mary had been hunted before, too many times, in fact, for her to trust anyone's promises, written or otherwise.

I'd not heard anything positive about her, from anyone; indeed, the very possibility of her accession was rife with tumult. Yet in that moment I felt only empathy for her. She was at an age when most women had wed, borne children, settled for better or worse into the rest of their lives. Instead she stood in someone else's manor, a fugitive marked for death.

"Well?" she said. "Will you not answer? You were hired by them, were you not?"

"Your Majesty, if you'll pardon my insolence, I would prefer to answer in private."

"Absolutely not," said Rochester. "The queen does not entertain strangers. You're lucky we haven't thrown you into a dungeon for conspiring with her enemies."

"Dungeon?" I repeated, before I could stop myself. "Here?"

There was stunned silence before Mary's gravelly laughter rang out. "At least he doesn't mince his words!" She clapped her hands. "Leave us."

Rochester marched to where the shadowy man with the firearm lurked; Huddleston followed behind. Mary motioned to her flagon. "You must be thirsty. It's a long ride from London."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," I said. Her terse smile revealed bad teeth. She's not had much occasion to smile in her life, She's not had much occasion to smile in her life, I thought, as I drank deeply of the warm ale. I thought, as I drank deeply of the warm ale.

She waited.

I said, "Your Majesty, my companion... he is just a boy. I trust he'll not be harmed?"

"Of course not." She faced me now without trepidation. "Tell me honestly: Is my brother King Edward dead?"

I met her stalwart gaze. "Yes."

She was quiet, as if she contemplated something she had already accepted. Then she said, "And this letter from the council: Is it a ruse, or can I trust what these lords say?"

I measured my response. "I haven't been at court long, but I would say, no, you should not trust them." As her face tightened, I added, "However, you can trust their letter. Lady Jane Grey is indeed the duke's p.a.w.n. She'd not have a.s.sumed your throne given the choice."

She snorted. "I find that hard to believe. She did marry Northumberland's brat."

"Your Majesty can believe in her innocence, if you believe nothing else. The duke has devised this situation to secure his own power. He is the perpetrator. He-"

"He should be drawn and quartered, his head stuck on a pike," she blared. "How dare he contrive to steal my realm, which is mine by divine right! He'll soon learn that I am not a queen to be trifled with-he and every other lord who dares to exalt my cousin over me."

The fervor of her declaration animated her person. She might not possess her sister's charismatic appeal, but she was still Henry VIII's daughter.

"I gather Your Majesty intends to fight for your crown," I said.

"To the death, if need be. My grandmother Isabella of Castile led armies against the infidel to unite her kingdom. Nothing less can be expected of me."

"Then Your Majesty has answered your own question. The council's offer to support you is trustworthy only as much as you make it so. If you forgive their past transgressions, then you will have their loyalty."

Her eyes turned cold. "I see you've mastered their art of double-talk."

I felt a p.r.i.c.kle of fear in my belly. Her face was drawn, closed. Elizabeth had warned me to be careful. I was struggling to find the right response, when Rochester strode in. "Your Majesty, we found this cur lurking outside!" He stepped aside, revealing three others dragging another man between them. As they threw him facedown on the floor, his cap slipped off his head. Mary prodded him with her foot. "Your name."

I could not contain my relief when the man lifted his face.

"Some call me Durot, Your Majesty, but you would know me as Fitzpatrick."

Chapter Twenty-four.

Mary said, "Barnaby Fitzpatrick, my brother's servant?" From behind her I interjected, "Your Majesty, he's been working to keep the duke's son Lord Robert away from you. Whatever news he brings must be important."

Barnaby came to his feet. Streaks of his natural hair color showed through his walnut-juice stained mop. At Mary's nod, he said, "Robert Dudley and his men are fast closing in. I was sent ahead as a scout, because a local sheepherder swears he spotted you riding in this direction. Your Majesty has less than an hour to make your escape."

Rochester said, "Where is your proof?"

"My lord steward," said Mary, before Barnaby could reply, "Master Fitzpatrick served my late brother loyally for many years. He was often whipped for Edward's transgressions. I don't require further proof."

She returned to the table, Huddleston at her heels. She gathered her map and papers, thrust them at him. "We ride for Framlingham Castle. It's a Howard seat, and they revere the True Faith. If G.o.d is with me, I'll gather my supporters there. Otherwise, it's not far to the coast. My lord Huddleston, you must come with us. Your house is no longer safe for you."

White as the papers he clutched, Huddleston hastened after Rochester and the other men, who bolted from the hall shouting orders. As the manor erupted in pandemonium, Mary called out, "Clarencieux, Finch!" and two women emerged from the hall's recesses, bearing a cloak and a small valise. "These are my faithful servants," said Mary, as the women draped the cloak about her. "You must defend them with your lives."

She did not ask us how we felt about being entrusted with this duty. Crowned already in her mind, she merely a.s.sumed we would obey.

We followed her into the courtyard, where servants stuffed saddlebags with last-minute articles. Peregrine held our horses. His eyes snapped wide as he saw Barnaby dart around the side of the manor and return on his cob. While Rochester a.s.sisted the queen and her ladies to their mounts, Huddleston and Mary's other manservants jumped onto theirs.

Barnaby mumbled to Peregrine and me, "We may need someone to defend us before this day is done."

"Or maybe not," I said. "Lord Robert looked none too fresh last I saw him."

Barnaby chortled. "I thought I heard a rat in the brush. By the way, the beard suits you."

"A precaution of my new trade. In case anyone should ask, my name is Daniel Beecham, of Lincolns.h.i.+re." I reached over to thump his back. "That was quite a voice you used, Durot. And the hair coloring is an accomplishment. How did you get yourself into Dudley's company?"

"Let's just say I was accosted by a certain earl who offered me the opportunity to avenge my king. The rest was easy. I made myself Robert's bane from the start. If I had said she was in France, he'd have gone looking for her in Brussels. He was only too pleased to send me off ahead. He probably hoped some papist sniper would rid him of me for good."

"You are bold. And you've helped save me twice now. I shan't forget it."

"Just pray you don't need a third." Barnaby's expression turned somber as he looked up. He lifted his voice. "Your Majesty, the hour isn't getting any longer."

Swiveling in the saddle, a sickening lurch went through me. Hors.e.m.e.n rode down a distant hill, coming straight toward the manor.

"This way," Barnaby shouted. Sandwiched between her servants, Mary galloped onto the road, hard after him as he led us to a ridge. Robert Dudley and his men were still too far off to pose an immediate threat, but as we climbed the path single file, the sun wringing sweat from our brows, we discovered we weren't moving fast enough.

A gasp escaped the women. Behind us rose a plume of thick black smoke. The manor we had left was being torched.

At Mary's side, Huddleston went white. "Let it burn," she told him. "I'll build you a finer house. You have my word as your queen."

Huddleston's dismayed look indicated he wasn't taking her promise to heart.

I motioned Barnaby aside. "We're too easy a target. We have to divide their pursuit."

Barnaby a.s.sented. "What do you suggest?"

"You proceed with Her Majesty and three of her people. Let Peregrine take the others along a different route. That way, Robert and his men will have to separate. The less there are after her, the better her chances are of reaching Framlingham."

"Good plan." He paused. "What are you going to do?"

I gave him a cold smile. "I've an overdue appointment. I'll need your bow."