The Tudor Secret Part 7

Resplendent in scarlet brocade, his slashed breeches cut short to reveal his muscular thighs and to enhance the protruding splendor of his curled and patterned codpiece, Lord Robert Dudley swaggered into the room.

I bowed low. "My lord, forgive my tardiness. I got lost and-"

"No, no." He waved a gloved hand, perfuming the air with a distinct scent of musk. "Your first night at court, all that free wine and food, a wench or two-how could you resist?"

His grin was brazen, displaying strong teeth. Not a pleasant grin, but appealing all the same. Much as I hated to admit it, I could see why women responded to him. The grin also indicated to my relief that he wasn't inclined to see me grovel.

He arched a brow. "You missed the packing, however, not to mention my good news."

"My lord?" Of course. That was why he looked so smug. He had news.

His dusky eyes glittered. "Yes. I've received word from my father that Her Grace has decided to stay to celebrate Guilford's nuptials. It seems she can't resist me. And I owe it all to you." He let out a guffaw, slinging an arm about my shoulders. "Who could have guessed you had such a sweet tongue? We should consider sending you abroad as an amba.s.sador."

I forced out a grin. "Indeed, my lord. Thus may you take heed of how to woo a lady."

"Bah!" He thumped my back. "You are a live one, I'll grant you, but you've a ways to go before you're fit to woo anything other than a tavern s.l.u.t. I, on the other hand, will soon pay suit to a princess of the blood royal."

Naturally, he a.s.sumed the princess was going to Greenwich because of her interest in him. But at least I had something to report to Cecil. By Robert's own admission, he confirmed his intent. I could scarcely look at his face, thinking that under that enviable facade lay the soul of a villain.

"Does my lord think she'll...?" I let my insinuation linger.

"Oblige me?" He played with the fringe of his gauntlets. "How could she not? She may be a princess, but she's also Nan Boleyn's daughter. And Nan always had an eye for the gentlemen. But, like her mother, she'll make me wait. It's the Boleyn way. She'll make me beg before I am deemed worthy, just as Nan did to Henry. No matter. It gives us all the more time to bait my snare."

I detested him in that instant, overcome by the urge to wipe that insufferable superiority off his face. Instead, I found considerable pleasure in removing the ring from my doublet. I extended it. "I certainly hope so, my lord, because she wouldn't take this from me."

His self-indulgent expression froze. He stared at the ring in my palm. "Did she say why?" he asked in a flat voice.

"She said you thought too much of yourself. Or too little of her." I realized I shouldn't be saying this. I was supposed to encourage his delusions, not crush them. But I couldn't help myself. Lord Robert Dudley deserved to be yanked down a notch or two.

His jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought he would knock my hand aside. Then he gave a terse laugh. "Well, well. So, she refused my token. Of course, she did. The royal virgin-always presuming on her chast.i.ty. It's her favorite role. We'll let her have her fun for now, eh?"

The icy mirth in his tone crept down my spine. Then he gestured magnanimously, all charm and ease once more. "Keep the ring. I'll put a finer one on her finger yet."

Cuffing my shoulder, he sauntered to the door. "Gather up your things. We're going to Greenwich, but not by barge. Leave the river to weaklings and women. We'll ride our steeds over good English soil, like comrades and friends."

Friends. He thought we were friends now, accomplices in a sordid game of deceit. I bowed, turning to the table. "My lord," I said in a low voice.

He chuckled. "That's right, I forgot. I'll leave you to change. Don't take too long." He paused. "Come to think of it, you always were particular as a maiden when it came to undressing," he mused, and my heart leapt against my ribs. He shrugged. "It's not as if you've anything I haven't seen before."

He strolled out, closing the door behind him. I waited until I was certain he wouldn't return before I furtively divested myself of my rumpled new doublet and good shoes.

I stood in chemise and hose. I had to look. Hooking my hand in my hose, I lowered it to my groin. The large maroon discoloration spilled across my left hip, its edges like wilted petals.

It had been there since birth. Though not uncommon, such blemishes were often dubbed "demon bites" or "Lucifer's pawprints" by the ignorant and superst.i.tious. I'd learned early to conceal it from prying eyes, particularly those of the Dudley boys, who'd have tormented me all the more. Never had any of them seen me naked.

Mistress Alice had said it was a rose left by the kiss of an angel while I was still in the womb. A fanciful tale, which I'd almost believed. But as I matured, it had been the touch of a real woman, like the maid at the castle who introduced me to pleasure and eased its stigma, that taught me that not everyone was as sensitive to its significance as I was.

La marque de la rose...

I shuddered, yanking up my hose and reaching for my leather jerkin. Rolling up the doublets, I stuffed them into my saddlebag. I'd not told Cecil, not yet, but I would. As soon as I fulfilled my obligations I would ask him to help me discover the truth of my birth, no matter the cost. For now, being Robert Dudley's new friend was a fine enough start. A friend was trusted, relied upon, confided in-someone we turn to in times of need. And wherever Robert went, there his new friend would be, like a shadow.

I had no doubt that the shadow trailing me wouldn't be far behind.

GREENWICH.

Chapter Twelve.

Greenwich Palace materialized in a mult.i.tude of turrets and pointed blue slate rooftops, fronted by the southeastern swath of the Thames. From the slope where Robert and I halted to rest our mounts, I thought it a more graceful sight than Whitehall's colossal sprawl, a secluded palace nestled amid woodlands, removed from the grit and chaos of London. It was difficult to conceive of any menace lurking there. Yet Cecil believed it was in Greenwich that the duke had sequestered the king, and here he would make his move against Elizabeth.

"She was born in Greenwich," Robert said, breaking into my thoughts. "September 7, 1533." He chuckled. "It was quite the occasion. King Henry had been striding about for months, cras.h.i.+ng heads, and cutting off not a few, declaring to all who cared to listen that his beloved queen would bear him a son. But when Anne Boleyn took to her bed, all she brought mewling into the world was, as Henry himself put it, 'a worthless daughter.'"

I glanced at him. "A beautiful place to be born, my lord. She must be fond of it."

"She is. She even had her own apartments as a babe, at Queen Anne's insistence. Anne wanted her daughter close to her, regardless of how Henry felt." Robert straightened in his saddle. "I wonder if she's arrived yet. It would be just like her to keep us waiting."

I hoped she did. The longer she delayed, the more time I'd have to appraise the situation. Cecil had said it was likely Edward had been lodged in the palace itself, perhaps in the so-called Secret Lodgings, a series of guarded chambers connected to a long gallery, designed to afford the monarch privacy and seclusion. The more I found out about Edward's exact whereabouts, the more Cecil might discern about the duke's impending plans. I also had to join up with Peregrine and find out who was following me and why.

"Let us be off," cried Robert. "Last one there has to feed the horses."

With a spirited laugh, he set spurs to his bay. Cinnabar leapt at my nudge, reveling in the opportunity to display prowess. Habituated to long daily rides outside Dudley Castle, my roan was not used to too many hours in the stable. With the wind against my face and Cinnabar's flanks propelling me forth, I surrendered to the moment, reminded of the days when I'd rode bareback in the fields as a boy, feeling for a brief time as though I hadn't a care in the world.

The palace sprang up before me, faced in red brick riddled with plaster grotesques, octagonal chimneys emitting roast smoke and knot gardens breathing a confection of perfumes from herbs and perennials. Waving his hand imperiously, using his horse as a wedge, Robert steered us through the courtiers ama.s.sed outside the main gatehouse. We rode past a ward into a cobblestone courtyard, around which were a.s.sembled edifices painted in Tudor green and white.

Grooms led lathered horses into these stables, while n.o.blemen in leather cloaks peeled off gauntlets as they stalked into the palace.

Robert leapt from his saddle. Unhooking his bags, he said, "I won the wager. You see to the horses. I've a room off the inner court. Wait for me there. I have to report to my father." He strode off, leaving me with the horses panting in my ears, oblivious that I'd curbed Cinnabar's enthusiasm so I might deliberately lag behind.

I led the horses into a stable. Harried grooms were accommodating a mult.i.tude of roans, geldings, and palfreys, divesting them of saddles, brus.h.i.+ng them down, and stabling them with armloads of fresh oats and hay.

None took notice of another servant among them. I recognized the duke's own sleek Barbary in a far stall removed from the others, beside an exit gate with a view of a vast hunting park. I brought the horses to it. Like his son, Northumberland had disdained travel by river. I couldn't say I blamed them: I was not enamored of running water myself, a childhood fear I had never fully conquered.

I clicked my tongue at the Barbary, who p.r.i.c.ked its ears as I stabled Robert's steed and Cinnabar nearby. "Enjoy it," I told Cinnabar. "There's no predicting where we might lodge next." He nuzzled me, grateful for the run.

A liveried groom approached. "Will you be requiring feed?"

I nodded, reaching into my jerkin for a coin. "Yes, please, and-" I stopped. Stared. "Where in G.o.d's name did you get that green coat? Or should I say, steal it?"

Peregrine grinned. "I borrowed it. These Greenwich stable grooms are so easily bribed. They'd strip naked for the mere glint of gold."

"Is that so?" I returned to the horses, lowering my voice. "Did you find him?"

Taking my cue, Peregrine busied himself spreading hay on the floor. "Yes. He's here."

I paused. "In the palace?"

"Yes. After I left you, I followed him to a tavern where he'd tethered his horse. He didn't even stop for a drink. He took to the road and got caught up in the servant transport from Whitehall, which gave me time to hop a cart. He rode beside us but stayed apart, as if he smelled better, though there were ale and songs aplenty. When he arrived, he went to the queen's apartments. The guards didn't check his papers at the gatehouse. He must have distinction."

"The queen's apartments?" I frowned. "His Majesty isn't married."

Peregrine shook his head, as if I were hopeless. "That's just what they're called. Old Henry's wives used to reside there. Guess who's lodged there now? Jane Grey and her mother, the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk: I think our man is a Suffolk hireling."

I suppressed my disquiet. Had the d.u.c.h.ess set one of her men to trail me? If so, she was probably learning at this moment about my enforced visit to Cecil's manor house.

"What does he look like? Is he big or small? Tall or short?"

"He's taller than you," said Peregrine, "but not by much. He has a pointy face, like a ferret."

"A ferret." I gave him a wry smile. "I'll remember that. Excellent work, Peregrine. I'm sorry I can't repay you the coins you used to get that coat, but maybe later, eh?" I ruffled his hair, about to turn away when I heard him scoff.

"I don't want your money. I can earn extra coins whenever I like. There are plenty of lords and ladies willing to pay for information. What I want is to work for you. I've had enough of mucking out stables. I think you'd make a good master."

I was taken aback, though of course I should have seen it coming. The boy had clung to me like a clam since we'd met. Regardless of how I might view my circ.u.mstances, to him I was worth impressing-the personal squire to the duke's son, in his debt for saving me from a potentially lethal stalker, with money to throw his way.

Then I thought of another possibility.

I smiled. "I'm flattered, but I can't afford you."

"Why not? I don't cost much, and you must earn a decent wage. Secretary Cecil always pays his men well, and- Stop that!" He yanked away from my pinch to his ear.

I glanced about the stables. The grooms were too busy to pay us any mind, and the stalls partially concealed us in any event. Still, someone could be nearby, listening.

I pulled Peregrine close. "I never said who who was paying me," I hissed. was paying me," I hissed.

He recoiled. "You didn't? I... I must have thought..." He chewed his lower lip. I could practically see his agile mind conjuring up lies out of thin air. "You were taken to his house." He stopped. That didn't sound convincing, and he knew it.

I regarded him without visible reaction. His stare s.h.i.+fted to the stall gate. In the second before he bolted, I registered panic on his face. Jerking forward, I s.n.a.t.c.hed him by the collar. He was stronger than he looked, being little more than gristle and bone, but I got a firm enough grip to hold him dangling off the floor, like an errant pup.

"I think," I said, "it's time you told me who you work for."

"No one!"

I tightened my grip, making an overt move for my dagger with my other hand. He sang out in a shrill treble, "I can't say. He threatened to kill me if I did."

That sounded better. I slackened my grip, letting a moment pa.s.s before I let him go. To his credit, Peregrine didn't make a run for it.

"I'm disappointed. I thought you were my friend."

"I am your friend," he retorted, with an impressive indignation, all things considered. "I helped you, didn't I? I warned you about being followed, and I followed that Suffolk man here. No one paid me to do that."

"Oh? If memory serves, I believe I paid you. Four times, I might add."

"I still risked my life." He puffed out his chest. "And for what? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you'd not make such a good master, after all."

I smiled coldly. "It was Walsingham, wasn't it? He told you to guide me to that path so I could be overtaken. You didn't happen happen to see my abduction. You knew about it beforehand. Did he also tell you to make sure I caught you pretending to try to rob me, or did you think about that yourself? That was a nice touch, actually-disarming, yet it engendered contact and rapport." to see my abduction. You knew about it beforehand. Did he also tell you to make sure I caught you pretending to try to rob me, or did you think about that yourself? That was a nice touch, actually-disarming, yet it engendered contact and rapport."

Peregrine shuffled his feet in the straw and lowered his eyes, a portrait of abject misery, which I was not buying for a second.

"Then you came after me," I went on, "and, according to you, happened to chance upon this Suffolk man dodging us. Does he actually exist? Or is Walsingham setting me up for more trickery?"

That got his attention. He reared his face up, furious. "Of course he exists! And why would Walsingham want to trick you? You both work for Cecil."

"Perhaps, but then I never thought you'd you'd trick me, either." trick me, either."

"I haven't!" His protest resounded into the stables, causing the horses to stomp their hooves and grooms to look up. Abashed, he dropped his voice. "I didn't trick you," he repeated. "I'm not Walsingham's lackey. Yes, he came and ordered me to see you to that path. He knew you were asleep in the hay pile. Don't ask me how. But I don't work for him, and he didn't pay me. He said either I did as he told me, or else. I figured you'd fallen into serious trouble when his men took you, so I decided to follow you, in case."

"In case what? You could fish out my corpse from the river and steal my pouch?"

He glared. "In case you needed me. I... I like you."

I heard an unwilling ring of truth in his avowal. Had I been in his place, I would have done the same. I knew what it felt like to be scared and have everything to lose. Moreover, Walsingham wasn't one to tolerate no for an answer, particularly from some urchin he'd just as soon kick as look at.

"Let's say for argument's sake that I believe you," I said at length. "I still can't hire you. I don't have a treasury to draw upon, and who's to say what'll happen the next time someone offers you a few coins?"

"I'll work for free, then, to prove myself. I'm not afraid of anything. I'll go anywhere you want me to, find out anything you need to know. All you have to do is tell me."

I softened my tone. "I'm sorry, but the answer is no. This task I'm entrusted with... it could be very dangerous. I'll not put you at risk."

"I've been at risk all of my life. I can take care of myself."

"I realize that. But I can't allow it."

"Why not? You obviously need someone to help you. You can't possibly hope to save the princess without-" Choking on his own words, Peregrine leapt back from me into Cinnabar's rump. He was lucky that my horse was a tolerant creature, unlikely to kick unless provoked.

I rounded on him. "How do you know about that? And don't you dare lie to me this time, or you'll rue the day we met."

"I overheard it. At Cecil's house. The window... it was ajar."

"And you were there the entire time, listening?"

"Yes. Our man almost saw me. He crept right past the hedge where I was hiding. I could have reached out and grabbed his cloak."

I went still. "He also heard? Everything?"

"I don't know. I don't think so, or at least not all of it. He wasn't there long enough. When Cecil's wife and son came into the garden, they scared him off."

"Cecil's wife and son?" I almost rolled my eyes. "You knew who they were? You are are the little snake, aren't you?" the little snake, aren't you?"

He let out a nervous laugh. "Yes! Yes, I am. See? This little snake can be of use to you."