The Tudor Secret

Chapter Twelve





Greenwich Palace materialized in a multitude 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, crashing 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 amassed outside the main gatehouse. We rode past a ward into a cobblestone courtyard, around which were assembled edifices painted in Tudor green and white.

Grooms led lathered horses into these stables, while noblemen 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 multitude of roans, geldings, and palfreys, divesting them of saddles, brushing 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 pricked 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 God’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 duchess of Suffolk: I think our man is a Suffolk hireling.”

I suppressed my disquiet. Had the duchess 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 circumstances, 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 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 shifted to the stall gate. In the second before he bolted, I registered panic on his face. Jerking forward, I snatched 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 pass 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 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 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 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.”

“Not so fast. What else do you know? Best tell me now. I hate surprises.”

“Nothing. I swear it on my mother’s soul, may she rest in peace, whoever she was.”

Whoever she was …

I paused. I should order him back to Whitehall, back to his life of anonymity and opportunism. It would be safer than whatever awaited here.

But I knew I wouldn’t. I saw myself in him, the child I had been. He deserved a chance. I just hoped neither of us would have reason to regret it.

“I expect you to earn your keep,” I said. “And to obey me in all things, no matter what.”

He sketched a clumsy bow. “Say no more, master. I’ll do anything you require.”

I couldn’t contain my smile. “And don’t call me that. My name will suit fine.”

Peregrine’s smile was so fulsome it warmed my heart. It was certainly an odd way to go about making a friend, but a friend I had made, nevertheless.