Authors: April Taylor
Chapter Forty
The King presided at the feast alone. His mother, attending the Queen as her pains grew more frequent, had sent a message that so far, all was well. Luke with Gwenette stood close but in the shadows of the Great Hall. He had begged for her assistance, needing her eyes and ears to help him prevent another attack on the King.
“I need you,” he had said, aware that his voice had deepened. Gwenette had put her hand on his arm, looking directly into his eyes.
“I cannot say you nay,” she replied and smiled when his hand had come up to cover hers, but he did not trust himself to say more. She was a stalwart companion in troubled times, with sharp eyes and fast reactions.
Queen Anne had prevailed upon Roland Dufay to leave the Quayne house and wait outside the confinement chamber with the guards. Once the Elemagus had been assured of Frayner’s demise and Bertila’s safety, he had consented to sit by Madeleine’s chamber door, holding a protection spell in place and monitoring the surroundings for any signs of attack.
Luke reflected on Nimrod’s twisted game of bluff and counter bluff. He had made it appear on the surface that the threat was to the Queen, but none of the events had been directly witnessed by her, in order to make Henry appear to be the target. Misdirection again.
Luke breathed a sigh of relief. The Queen was well guarded, so he could relax, listen to the minstrels and watch the mummers. All was safe. He turned to exchange a jest with Gwenette when a small malformed boy who needed a crutch to take the place of his contorted left leg caught Luke’s attention. He felt his heart contract with pity and pointed him out to Gwenette. She frowned.
“I did not see him come in with the mummers. He must be one of the kitchen scullions who crept up to watch the festivities. He will be in trouble when he is missed.”
Luke nodded and looked at the tumblers who were now twisting their bodies into impossible shapes and pulling stupid faces. It was truly amazing how a handsome, well-set young man could so suddenly appear to be a grizzled, deformed gaffer.
And just as suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle slotted into a different pattern. Unbidden, the conversation he and Gwenette had overheard came into his head and made sense.
Better before.
Then she will lean on those closest to her.
If Henry died, the Queen would be left a widow and England with a baby King. Who would then have the most influence on Madeleine? Reynard. He would be able to unite the three realms against the might of Spain and, in time, have dominion over the entire Spanish empire, too. Power indeed, and well worth fighting for.
But for the enemy’s plan to work, the King must die. The attempt would be made and soon, so that Reynard would be able to insinuate his way back into the Queen’s household.
A touch on his arm brought him back with a start to the feast.
“Luke. The child.”
Luke saw the small crippled boy fix his gaze on the King and begin to maneuver himself towards the high table. God bless Gwenette. Whilst his mind had been woolgathering, she had maintained the utmost observance. Luke poised himself on his toes and edged from the wall. For an instant, he saw the boy’s attention waver and glance at him. Reynard had changed shape and hidden in plain view.
* * *
Without a moment’s thought, Luke leapt like a stag in flight landing on and in the King’s gold platter, shielding his monarch from the beam of red light that flew from the end of the boy’s crutch. He was aware that Joss had also jumped on the table in an effort to divert Nimrod’s concentration. Using every ounce of strength he had, Luke threw up a deflecting spell and turned the fire back on to the misshapen figure. However, that only seemed to give it energy.
Luke momentarily froze in dismay. His deflection spell had failed. The enemy sensed his fear. The child’s crutch had turned into a broadsword and, laughing, he advanced upon the high table. Joss leapt between the enemy and Luke, willing to give her life for his. On impulse, Luke gathered Joss to his chest, thrust his hand into his sleeve, pulled out the vial of holy water and threw the contents directly into the sunderer’s face. Nimrod gave a scream of pain and fury before crumpling into a heap on the floor.
The courtiers had been rendered motionless, but as soon as the sunderer collapsed, everyone rose to their feet shouting and screaming. Of all the people in the Great Hall, Henry was by far the most composed, but his voice betrayed his shock.
“Master Ballard, had you told me you were so hungry, I would have offered you food. Come, I have wild boar here. Would you like some?”
Luke rested his head on the table and began to laugh, until a nudge from Joss made him aware of a black mist rising from the boy’s stricken body. Luke sat up.
“Your Majesty, I bid you bid everyone to leave the chamber.” When the King obliged, he sent a misremembrance spell to span each door. All who passed through would immediately forget what had just occurred. Soon there remained only the King, Luke, Gwenette and Byram Creswell.
Luke slid from the table and was preparing to lift the body when the sound of steps running up the stairs from the Fountain Court distracted everyone’s attention. A tall man in flapping cloak stumbled through the curtained doorway. He fell to his knees.
“Your Majesty,” Olivier Reynard said. “I have just heard that Her Grace is brought to bed.”
Luke thought afterward that, to the priest, they must all have appeared to have lost their wits. Henry recovered first. He stared from Reynard to the body, then back to Reynard and finally to Luke.
“Master Ballard?” he said in a dangerously quiet voice.
The apothecary walked forward to the boy’s corpse, nudging it with his foot. As he did so, the body lengthened to reveal Clifford Parry, who leapt to his feet, his fists clenched. His eyes glittered with malice and his mouth worked as if trying to speak, but nothing emerged from between his lips. His expression turned first to one of surprise and then shock as he gazed at the floor. What had been first a crutch and then a broadsword was now revealed as a stringy fur-covered body. His umbran. Dead. He looked past Luke to the King who stood dumb-struck and put up his hand.
Luke stepped forward to shield his monarch. “Your magic is as dead as your umbran. The King is beyond your evil, sunderer,” he said.
“You proved a worthy opponent, Dominus,” Parry replied, assaying a smile. “You would do better to join us for you cannot hope to foil Custodes Tenebris indefinitely. Think on the fate of the bungling Elemagus Verrall.”
Luke did not reply at first, watching as his opponent’s face turned paler and his throat convulsed.
“I think not,” Luke replied. “I see that your colleagues have already cast you out of the circle. The price they demand as payment for failure is typical of their disregard for anything save power. And as for Kolby Verrall, there may yet be a way to restore his soul to God. You may be sure that we shall find it if there is, for we do not forsake our own.”
Parry summoned a shaky laugh. “At least I am beyond that insignificant stripling’s puny justice,” he said. “And remember, elemancer, we only have to succeed once. You must succeed every time.”
By this time, his breath was ragged and his knees began to sag. As they watched, Luke saw the instant when the arrows of malice sent by Custodes Tenebris entered his body. Parry’s agony was short but excruciating. When his dead body finally collapsed, it was with a whisper.
“Gwenette,” Luke said. “Please pour His Majesty a fresh goblet of wine. And one for Father Reynard who looks as if he is about to swoon.”
Luke, using his body as a screen, poured a forgetting potion into both drinks before Gwenette handed them off. In contrast to the misremembrance spell, where memories were altered, neither Henry nor Reynard would remember anything of the scene they had just witnessed. Both men drained their goblets.
Henry looked down at the body. “Parry? Parry was the enemy?”
“Aye, Sire. It was he, dressed as a woman, who obtained entrance to the Queen’s chamber and killed Edith Brook. In his position, he went wherever the Queen went, so the writing on the walls was also his.”
A guard entered with a paper in his hand. Bowing, he handed it to the King. Henry frowned and scanned it, his lips moving slightly as he read.
“I had the guards search Father Reynard’s apartment. It is a letter from the Duc de Guise, asking for details of the plan to accomplish our death. The Queen spoke of the Guises and their growing power threatening her uncle, but we did not realize that the threat was also to us.” He looked at Reynard, who stared at Parry with wide, frightened eyes. Henry’s mention of his name brought him back to the present with a start. “Well, Father Reynard. What have you to say?”
The King handed him the letter. Reynard read it, a frown deepening above his eyes. He dropped to his knees.
“Your Majesty, as a true and faithful subject of King Louis, I give you my solemn word before God that I have never corresponded with the Duc de Guise.”
“Then how, Master Priest, do you explain this paper?”
Luke, only part of his attention on this exchange, interjected. “If you remember, Sire, did you not receive a communication suggesting that you declare war? It made you angry.”
“And you think that because of that, Reynard was told to assassinate us?”
“No, Sire. Not Reynard. Parry put this letter in the priest’s apartment to throw suspicion on to him should it be discovered.”
“But why?”
It was Reynard who answered. “Sire, I must now confess that this man,” he pointed at the body on the floor, “this man has been blackmailing me for the past four months.”
Luke spoke without thinking as the final piece slotted into place. “Of course. Reynard was a perfect scapegoat, Your Majesty. French. A Catholic and close to the Queen. Who would question that he must be the guilty party? Any investigation would reason that if you were dead, Reynard would have influence and power over the Queen and your heir. As indeed I did think.”
Henry frowned.
“But that is not the case?”
“Not when you give it serious consideration, Sire. Father Reynard does not crave power. Neither does he possess a twisted mind. His only desire, I suspect, is to make sure Her Grace remains true to her Catholic faith. He is altogether too obvious a suspect. But Parry, with his access to every part of the Queen’s household, had all the opportunities to sow the discord he needed. A brash blustering bully, Mistress Paige called him, filled with overweening arrogance and ambition. Will Quayne has no better opinion of the man. Parry’s mind ran along lines of gaining power and self-advancement.” He would be easy meat for the enemy, Luke thought, but did not say.
“And the French?”
“It is well-known that the Queen’s uncle has enemies within his court who seek to unseat him. I have no doubt that the Duke of Guise thought he would be able to control every aspect of the plot and control the new King of France. It also explains the emblem that Captain Creswell found.”
Luke took the button from his sleeve and showed it to the King. “It was not
GF
for Gerard Frayner, but
FG
for Francois of Guise. Had this plan succeeded, Guise could have expected to gain the upper hand in the English and French courts, uniting them against the Spanish empire. Europe would be kept in a constant state of war. And, as we all know, war makes some people rich and powerful.”
Henry remained unconvinced. “So where does Reynard come into this?”
Luke turned to the priest and raised his eyebrows, unable to prevent a smile.
“That, I suspect, Sire, is the reason he was being blackmailed. Father Reynard is a priest, ’tis true, but he is also a man and one whom gossip says the ladies find very attractive. I think, Sire, that he left the palace to visit...er...a certain lady in Hampton. The guards say he leaves the palace at night, and Rob told me a stranger from the palace had been seen in the village. Parry must have followed him and discovered his secret.”
Henry burst out in wild guffaws of laughter and stepped down to clap Reynard on the back.
“Is this true?”
Reynard blushed a deep brick red. “It is, Sire. I would it were not. I have striven against the sins of the flesh all my life. Parry threatened me with exposure and disgrace if I did not keep him informed of your and the Queen’s every movement. I was to try and coerce her into persuading Your Majesty to go to war if the French throne was endangered. I had no idea of Guise’s involvement.”
Henry’s expression had darkened with each word Reynard uttered. He took a deep breath. “Well, Sir Priest, you must pack up your belongings and leave. We cannot have one of your stamp in our court, let alone close to our Queen. You have three days to quit our realm. After that you will be declared a known felon and subject to our laws.”
They watched the disgraced cleric turn and stumble back through the curtains. Henry turned to Luke.
“That was easier than we had anticipated. One more question. Where did you get holy water from?”
“Frayner, the Hampton priest, had secreted some vials. I have no doubt they had been consecrated according to Catholic rites, lest they be diluted by the new faith.”
“But you were so certain Reynard was the enemy.”
“Aye, and I blush for shame. Had his name really been
fox
, then I might have been forgiven, but his name is Reynard and
fox
is only the translation. I did not take into account that Parry’s given name is Clifford. It also encompasses the number of the evil one.”
Gwenette stepped forward. “Then it was Parry and Reynard we overheard in the chapel?” she asked.
“Aye. Parry must have decided it was safer to use another meeting place. The Hampton church was far enough from the palace to avoid their being seen together, which is why he did not think twice about murdering Frayner. I assume Parry further blackmailed Reynard into discovering why he had not been included in the rumored move to Greenwich.”
“And,” the King said, leaning forward scowling, “we must ask you why you have brought your dog within the palace confines when it is strictly forbidden.”