Perfect Shadows

chapter 17

Northumberland gazed at the smoldering ruin with unseeing eyes. The faltering servant had told him how the building had seemed engulfed within seconds of the blaze being discovered, how the intensity of the heat had forestalled the attempts to quench the fire, and how a blast had rocked the ground and shattered the windows of facing buildings. The latter did not surprise him, as he had had powder stored there in the chapel. He stood stolidly, waiting for the embers to cool enough to permit examination of the ruins. Sommers appeared at his elbow, muttering curses under his breath.

“She’s gone, my lord. Maudie’s gone. The groom that had the watching of her said that she vanished during the confusion of the fire. I set the men to search for her,” Sommers gabbled hoarsely. He knew, none better, the purpose of the night’s thwarted ritual. They had but a few hours before dawn, before the moon turned its phase, in which to accomplish that purpose. He shifted his weight from his deformed foot, and tried to frame the words to remind Northumberland that their time was short. The earl turned his pebbly eyes on his companion for a few seconds, then looked back at the destruction before him.

“It matters not, old friend. There will be other nights, after all.” He stepped forward, but the ashes under the soles of his thin court shoes were still too hot for comfort, driving him back. He strode away to the house without another word.

Hours later, sifting the ruins with the help of Sommers and two trusted grooms, Percy came upon the pitiful remains shackled to the floor; the bones were seared and twisted, the fetters buckled by the heat, and the lot crushed by fallen beams. The earl stood and brushed the soot from his clothing, giving instructions that the bones be removed and thrown into the river without delay. The sound of hooves caught his attention, and he turned to find a groom approaching dressed in the livery of his brother-in-law Essex.

Robert Devereux, second Earl of Essex, paced in his study much as the captive animals in the Tower menagerie paced their cages, occasionally throwing himself down to rest, only to be up and pacing again but moments later. At a diffident knock he threw the door open violently, sending the startled groom leaping back into the passage. The man handed over the folded paper that he held then vanished towards the kitchens. Essex broke the seal, stepping to the window to read Northumberland’s message. He crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fire with a curse. Would no one help him? He had returned last night in a foul mood: the deceitful prince had not come to Whitehall after all, and the strain of waiting had made him irritable and sulky, which caused the Queen to remark acerbically upon his temper and increase his ill-humor.

He had returned to free Hal from his confinement, and to try to explain what had driven him to such extraordinary measures, only to find the captive gone. The servants were in an uproar, having found one of their number dead in the courtyard, drowned in the blood from his shattered face. The porter had been rendered unconscious, and had, upon awakening, identified the Earl of Southampton as his assailant.

“Well, jolly Robin, is there something you wish to tell me?” Essex whirled at the sound of Hal’s honey and acid voice, and gaped at the long pistol held leveled at his heart.

“Do you intend to shoot me then, Hal,” Essex asked, managing a tone of polite inquiry even though his heart was thumping against his ribs like a rabbit in a box. He crossed to the heavily carved sideboard and poured two glasses of wine, intensely aware of the pistol swiveling to follow him.

“Not at all, Robin,” Hal answered easily. “I merely intend to keep myself free of your enforced hospitality while you try to satisfactorily explain last night’s mummery to me.” Essex set the glass within Hal’s reach and retreated to the other side of the room. “I am waiting, Robin. You assured me last night that when you made your reasons plain I would agree with you. I doubt very much that I will, but I am sure that I shall enjoy your efforts.” Essex gulped his wine, then laid bare the bones of the plot against the foreign prince.

“So, you see, Hal, it was to keep you safe. Cecil will bring him down, and I did not wish that you be caught in the ruin. He has bewitched you, of that I am certain. How did you get loose, last night? Was he here? Did he kill my groom? Old Tip, the porter, says that you hit him, and that he did not see anyone else. I reported that the man had been set upon by ruffians, because I thought that you had killed him, but it was Kryštof, wasn’t it?” Though the fire cast little heat to the far side of the room, a sheen of sweat glistened on Robin’s brow. Hal considered his friend for a time before replying.

“No, Robin, it was I. I worked the knots loose and when the groom tried to hinder me, I killed him, or left him to die, it comes to the same thing. If you wish to alter the tale that you told to the watch, you will find me with Kryštof.” He shoved the unloaded pistol through his baldric and departed the house without another word, leaving Robin to his uncomfortable thoughts.