The Tudor Secret

Chapter Eighteen





A deafening hush followed her declaration. I marveled that I should feel any shock; it wasn’t as if she behaved in an unexpected fashion. I also wondered why I tried to convince her otherwise, even as I said: “That’s impossible. We can’t get inside. And even if we could, His Majesty’s rooms are too well guarded. We’ll never get out again.”

Elizabeth regarded me stonily. “Perhaps before we give up, we should ask Master Fitzpatrick, who’s slept at the foot of my brother’s bed these many years. He will know how impossible it is.” She turned to Barnaby. “Is there a way for us to get into Edward’s apartments without being caught?”

To my disbelief, Barnaby assented. “There’s a secret passage to the bedchamber. In times past, His Majesty your late father used it. Last time I checked, the duke hadn’t set a guard there. But I must warn you, if he does, the only way out is through the apartments, and they’re infested with his minions.”

“I’ll take my chances.” Elizabeth returned her gaze to me. “Don’t try to detain me. If you wish to help me, do so. If not, you can meet me at the gatehouse. But I must do this. I must see my brother before it is too late.” She paused. “I … I have to say good-bye.”

Her words tugged at my soul. This, I understood.

Barnaby stepped forth. “I will take Your Grace.” He shot me a look. “I’ll see her to His Majesty and back to the gatehouse safely.”

“Thank you, Barnaby.” She didn’t take her eyes from me. I finally conceded defeat with a sigh, lifting my own gaze past her to the palace and rows of glowing windows. The fireworks display had ended. Furtive storm clouds leaked fragrant humidity. The festivities would reach their apex soon, with the court imbuing free wine and dancing in feverish delight in front of the morose couple ensconced on the dais. The duke would be obligated to stand attendance, keep close watch on the nobles, seeing as the king had not made his promised appearance to bless the nuptials. If ever there was a time to sneak into royal apartments, this was it. Why, then, did I feel a terrible presentiment?

“Ash Kat has sent word to the hall that I’m indisposed,” said Elizabeth, misinterpreting the reason for my silence. “My assorted stomach complaints and headaches are notorious, as is my temper when disturbed. In addition, the duke knows what he said to me this afternoon and he’ll not wish to push his luck. I didn’t tell Robert as much, naturally, but I did not refuse Northumberland completely. I merely said I needed some time to contemplate his offer.”

She smiled coldly. “Of course, that time will soon run out, but unless they decide to break down my bedchamber door, for now, no one will dare intrude on me.”

“Or not while His Majesty lives,” I said. “Once he is gone, you can’t expect mercy.”

“I never would,” she replied. “You are bold, nonetheless, to remind me.”

I looked to Barnaby. “Are you sure it’s safe to use that passage?”

“Providing it isn’t guarded and someone stands watch while we’re inside, yes. Only the king’s favorite, Harry Sidney, is with Edward now. He’ll not raise warning against us.”

“I’ll stand guard.” Kate withdrew a dagger from her cloak. I repressed immediate protest. We weren’t so many that I could afford to disdain help; and we did need someone to watch.

“Fine. Peregrine will come with us. If it looks safe, he can go to the stables. Your Grace does realize your visit with your brother must be brief?”

She pulled up her hood. “Yes.”

With Kate and Peregrine flanking her, I motioned to Barnaby and we edged past the facade of the palace, a stalwart company of five, avoiding the taper light spilling from the loggias and windows. Laughter, uninhibited, slightly frenetic, tumbled from open panes; the revelry in the hall was in full sway.

I wondered if the duke had been obliged at the last minute to let more courtiers into the palace than he’d have preferred. I hoped so. The more distractions he had to contend with, the more time it would give us to get in and out of Edward’s rooms. Elizabeth’s absence from the nuptial celebration had surely been noted; Northumberland might even have decided that some incentive was required to facilitate her contemplation of his offer and had set guards at her doors at this very moment. Much as I disliked the thought, we had to be ready for every eventuality.

I stole a glimpse at Barnaby. If I ever found myself in a brawl, he was someone I’d want on my side. “Barnaby,” I said in a low voice. “Will you promise me something?”

“Depends on what it is.”

“If something goes wrong, will you do whatever you must to see her safe?”

His bared teeth gleamed. “Did you think I’d leave her to that pack of wolves? I’ll see her safe all right. Or die trying. Either way, they’ll never get hold of her.”

We passed into an enclosed ward, fronted by the palace. An odd derelict-looking tower rose at one end. I smelled the aroma of the river nearby.

Barnaby halted. “The entrance is in that tower.” He went still. I likewise came to a halt, an unspoken curse on my lips. The others also paused. In the silence, I heard Elizabeth draw a sharp breath between her teeth. “Sentries,” she whispered.

There were two of them before the tower, which squatted among Greenwich’s soaring tiers like a medieval toadstool. The guards, sharing a wineskin and conversing, were not keeping an eye toward whoever might approach. They probably didn’t expect anyone on a night like this, with the duke’s son’s wedding afoot. It explained why they were probably half drunk and surly, lounging by the wall. They’d been left in the cold to watch over a doorway few knew about, while the court fattened itself inside on roast meat and frolic.

“I thought you said it was safe,” I said to Barnaby.

He grunted. “It usually is. I guess our lord the duke isn’t taking any more chances. He never had that entrance watched before.”

I glanced at Elizabeth. Inside the hood of her cloak, her face was like a pale icon, the toll of her encounter with Robert hidden in her eyes. “There are only two,” she said in response to my unvoiced question. How could I have thought she’d say anything else? “We’ll have to find a way to distract them.”

Before I could reply, Kate shifted to me. Her apple-tinged fragrance made me acutely aware of how much she had begun to affect me, much as I wanted to deny it.

“I have an idea. Her Grace and I have played similar games before, albeit with a different caliber of gentlemen. But men are still men, and these two have drunk more than their share. If you and Barnaby are amenable, I believe we can accomplish this task with a minimum of effort.”

I stared, speechless. Barnaby grinned. “Now, there’s a lass after my own heart.” Even as I struggled for a reasonable refusal, Elizabeth tugged her hood farther over her head, concealing her face. I reached for her arm. “Your Grace!” I ignored her barbed glance at my fingers. “Please, think before you do this.” I shot a look at Kate. “You could both be arrested.”

“I have thought of it.” Elizabeth reached down and pried my hand from her sleeve. “It is all I have thought about since I came to court. I told you, I must do this. Are you willing to see it through or not?”

I met her stare and nodded. Kate muttered instructions, such as they were, then flipped back her hood to expose her face. With a deliberate sway of her hips, she sauntered over to the two men as they passed the wineskin between them.

“Time to fly, my friend,” I said, and Peregrine fled into the darkness.

I gripped my blade, watching with my heart in my throat as Kate and Elizabeth neared the men. The sentries had come to their feet, startled but not suspicious. The random light cast by the waning moon and reflections of candles in the palace’s upper windows were enough to show the intruders were women, who had wandered into the gardens. And women who wandered into gardens at night were, by the very act, not considered ladies.

The larger of the two men lumbered forth, a lascivious grin on his face. Kate was in the lead. Elizabeth lingered a few paces behind, her elegant stature made more pronounced by her hooded cloak. I doubted the sentries would bother to notice that the cloak’s velvet was costly, but should her face be revealed by some mishap, I had no illusions as to whether or not she’d be recognized. There wasn’t another face like hers in all of England.

“Be on the ready,” I said to Barnaby. He grunted in response.

The guard’s voice carried into the night. “And what are these pretty damsels doing here?” He was already reaching a grubby paw to Kate, and my fist closed convulsively over my dagger hilt. Barnaby murmured, “Easy, lad. Give her a moment.”

Kate effortlessly evaded the man’s grope. Cocking her hip and head in a disingenuous display, her right hand hidden within the folds of her cloak, where I knew she’d stashed her own blade, she said, “My lady and I had thought to escape the air of the palace. It’s so loud and hot inside. We were told there’s a pavilion nearby, but alas, we seem to have lost our way.”

She paused. Though I couldn’t see it, I was certain she was gracing the man with one of her artful smiles. Peril notwithstanding, her audacity made my unwitting admiration of her only increase. She had the heart of a lioness. No wonder Elizabeth trusted her.

“A pavilion?” The guard glanced at his companion, who stood, gazing warily. The less drunk of the two and therefore the one to watch. “Did you hear that, Rog? These ladies were looking for a pavilion. Ever heard of the like ’round here?”

The one called Rog didn’t answer. I saw Elizabeth tense under her cloak, her shoulders involuntarily squaring. It wasn’t so much the gesture that alerted the man as the manner in which it was done. With that one movement, she exposed herself as someone of import, unaccustomed to being questioned, and Rog reacted. He strode to Kate, chin thrust forward in the universally belligerent display of men who think they have some power.

“There’s no pavilion in these parts that I’m aware of. I must ask you ladies to give us your names. This is no time to be out alone.” He cast a pointed stare at Elizabeth. “I would see you returned to the palace and the hall, my lady.”

Kate laughed. “Surely this palace poses no danger, what with all these celebrations going on. But I see we were misled. We would welcome an escort, if you would be so kind.”

It wasn’t the plan, but she was improvising as she could, trying to dissuade further questioning and secure us the cover we needed. And it would work, if she could lure them to the wall where Barnaby and I lurked at the ready. The thick shadows cast by the tower would serve almost as well as its interior.

Rog wasn’t taking the bait. He’d not removed his suspicious stare from Elizabeth; and just as I felt the situation becoming too strained and that Barnaby and I would have to act, with a thrust of hand as swift as it was inescapable, Rog yanked back the princess’s hood.

Dead quiet fell. Elizabeth’s pale skin and fiery tresses glowed. The larger guard let out a strangled gasp. “God’s bones, it’s—she—”

He didn’t finish. Kate threw herself at him, her knife raised in a scything arc. Barnaby and I rushed forward, fleet as hounds. I hadn’t thought we might have to murder these two men, but in the heat of the moment, with my own knife ready, I understood it was exactly what our survival might require.

I reached Kate as she grappled with the guard, his fist closed about hers, fending off her knife and guffawing as he did it. Grabbing her by the shoulder, I whirled her away and slammed my own fist as hard as I could into the man’s face. I felt my knuckles connect with bone. The guard went down with an audible smash onto the cobblestones.

I spun around to see Barnaby dodging the sword Rog had yanked from his scabbard. Even as I realized Barnaby’s dagger was no match for the sword and it was only a matter of moments before Rog delivered a lethal blow, I caught sight of a blur of movement, a swish of dark cloak.

A long white hand came up.

I heard a wet crack. Rog stood perfectly still. His sword wavered, dropped clattering. He swayed, half turning in disbelief to his attacker. A thin line of blood seeped down his forehead.

Then he fell, face forward.

I met Elizabeth’s eyes. The stone she held dropped from her fingers. A speck of blood spattered their tapered length. Kate ran to where the princess stood. “Your Grace, are you hurt?”

“No. I’ll wager this one, however, will wake with a headache he won’t soon forget.” Elizabeth looked almost in disbelief at the man sprawled at her feet. She lifted her eyes to me. As I stepped to her, Barnaby bent over Rog to check his pulse.

“He lives,” Barnaby pronounced.

Elizabeth exhaled. “Merciful God. They were only doing their duty.”

Kate pushed disheveled hair from her brow, her color high in her cheeks. “What a pair of louts! Can Northumberland find no better than these to do his work?”

“Let us hope not.” Barnaby took Rog by his wrists and started hauling him toward the tower doorway. I gestured to Kate. “Come, help me.”

Urgency overcame us. With Kate and Elizabeth lending assistance, we dragged the larger guard through the door into a small round room, such as might be used for storage. A rickety set of stairs spiraled up toward a concave ceiling.

We lay the guards side by side. I went back to retrieve the sword. When I returned, Barnaby was using his belt to bind each of the inert men’s wrists together, palms facing. He took the handkerchief Elizabeth gave him, ripping it in half and stuffing the pieces of cloth into the men’s mouths. “Not much of a hindrance if they really want out,” he said, “but it should hold them otherwise.”

“I’ll see they don’t stir.” Kate took the sword from me. “If they so much as breathe too loud, I’ll skewer them like a Mayfair swan.”

Elizabeth had moved to the staircase. Barnaby stopped her, “No, this way.” He walked around the stairs to the seemingly solid wall. He reached down to lift a flagstone. I watched, amazed, as he pressed a concealed lever with his foot.

The wall opened outward, revealing an archway. Beyond, another narrow staircase wound upward into cobwebbed gloom. Elizabeth glanced from Barnaby to me. “It’s very dark.”

“We can’t risk any light,” said Barnaby. She nodded, went to the stairs.

I motioned Barnaby to follow. “I’ll be right behind you.” Then I turned to Kate. “Are you sure you want to stay here?” I tried to keep my tone neutral, unwilling to admit the personal concern I felt for her, which only a few minutes earlier had driven me at the guard with the intent to kill. I didn’t want to leave her here alone. And I did not like that. I did not want to feel anything for her, not at this juncture.

She gave me a knowing smile. “Still suspicious, are we?” Before I could respond, she set a finger on my lips. “Be quiet. I know I owe you an explanation, but for now rest assured that I can use a blade for more than peeling apples.”

I had no doubt she could, but no matter how well she might wield a weapon, she’d be no match for these two should they decide to break their bonds.

“Don’t fight them.” I looked her in the eye. “They’re the duke’s men. The punishment would be … severe. If it comes to it, make your escape. Find Peregrine and meet us on the road. We’ll find another way to get her out.” I paused. “Promise me.”

“I’m moved that you would worry,” she replied, still with that ironic smile. “But this is hardly the time to start doubting your allies. Go. You’ve more important things to worry about.”

I did not argue. Turning away, I stepped into suffocating darkness.

The passage containing the secret staircase was impossibly narrow, the ceiling angled low, barely high enough to accommodate a man. With my knees bent and shoulders hunched, my hair brushing cold stone, I wondered how enormous Henry the Eighth had ever navigated it. An unwitting gasp escaped me as the sense of space behind me was cut off.

Kate had depressed the lever and closed the false wall.

It was like moving up a tunnel. My eyes gradually adjusted. Rats perched on the steps, eyeing me without fear. Elizabeth and Barnaby climbed ahead, single file; I lost sight of them at each turn in the pike. The clammy air was wringing sweat from my brow.

Suddenly the staircase ended at a wooden door. Barnaby paused. “Before we go in,” he said, “Your Grace should know that Edward … he isn’t the prince we knew. The illness and the treatments have taken a terrible toll on him.”

She edged closer to me as Barnaby rapped on the door. In the hush, I heard her draw in a quivering breath. Barnaby rapped again. I gripped my dagger.

The door cracked open. A sliver of light cut across our feet.

“Who goes there?” said a man’s low, frightened voice.

“Sidney, it’s me,” whispered Barnaby. “Quick. Open up.”

The door swung inward, a covert entry masked by the wainscoting of a small but well-appointed chamber. The first thing that struck me was the heat. It was stifling, emanating from scented braziers set in the corners, from a fire burning in the recessed hearth, and from the tripod of candelabra illuminating the scarlet and gold upholstery of the chairs, the curtains at the alcove, and the damask hangings shrouding a tester bed.

A young man with lank blond hair faced Barnaby, his fine features haggard. “What are you doing here? You know his lordship ordered you away. You must not…” His voice faded. His blue eyes widened. Elizabeth stepped around Barnaby, cast back her cowl.

I stood behind her. Beyond the breath-quenching heat I began to detect another smell in the air—something very faint but also fetid, barely masked by the herb fumes from the brazier.

Elizabeth noticed it, too. “God’s teeth,” she murmured, as Sidney dropped to his knees before her. She stepped past him. “There’s no time for that,” she said faintly, moving toward the bed. On a crosshatch a falcon watched, its ankle tethered to its gilded post; candle flames reflected in its opaque pupils.

“Edward?” she whispered. She reached out to the bed hangings. “Edward, it’s me, Elizabeth.” She drew back the hangings. She gasped, staggered back.

I rushed to her side. When I saw what she stared at, I went still.

The stench in the room came from a shrunken figure supine on the bed, the flesh of his emaciated legs and arms blackened, festering. Propped on the pillows like a decaying marionette, only the rise and fall of his chest indicated the young king’s heart still beat. I could not believe anyone in such a state could be conscious. I prayed he wasn’t.

Then Edward VI’s gray-blue eyes opened, and his anguished gaze, as it rested on us, showed he was fully aware of his torment and that his sister stood before him. He opened caked lips, struggled to mouth unintelligible words.

Sidney hastened to his side. “He can’t speak,” he told Elizabeth. She had not moved, her face pared to an alarming transparency.

“What … what is he trying to say?” she whispered.

Sidney leaned close to the king’s mouth. Edward’s talonlike fingers gripped his wrist. Sidney looked up sorrowfully. “He begs your forgiveness.”

“My forgiveness?” Her hand crept to her throat. “Blessed Jesus, it is I who should beg for his. I wasn’t here. I wasn’t here to stop them from doing this … this horror to him.”

“He is beyond such concerns. He needs you to forgive him. He had no power to gainsay the duke. I know. I have seen everything that has transpired between them, from the day Northumberland began to poison him.”

“Poison him?” Her voice turned hard, cold. I thought I would never want to be the recipient of the look she now cast. “What are you saying?”

“I’m talking of the choice, Your Grace, the terrible choice they forced on him. He was ill with fevers; he coughed up blood. Everyone knew that he could not live; he too knew his end was near and he’d made his peace with it. He’d also made his decision about who must succeed him. Then the duke transferred him here and ordered his physicians dismissed. He brought in the herbalist, who began treating him with some mixture of arsenic. He was told it would help him, and it did—for a little while. But then it got much worse.”

Sidney glanced at Edward, who lay there with his eyes distended in his appalling, skeletal face. “He began to rot from within. The pain became an unending torment. Northumberland was at him night and day, without respite. He signed in desperation, because he could take no more, because they had promised him relief and he was burning in a never-ending hell.”

“He … he was forced … to sign … something?” Elizabeth had trouble speaking; I could see the veins in her temples. “What was it? What did they make him sign?”

Sidney averted his eyes. “A device naming Jane Grey as his heir. The duke made him disavow your and the Lady Mary’s claims to the throne. He made him”—his voice lowered to a whisper—“declare you both illegitimate.”

Elizabeth stood perfectly still. I watched her countenance darken. Then she whirled about, took a furious step toward the apartments’ main door.

“Your Grace,” I said.

She paused. “Don’t,” she said to me. “Don’t say it.”

“Listen.” I moved in front of her.

A dragging sound grew steadily louder, coming closer and closer.

“It’s the herbalist,” Sidney said, as if surprised; and as Barnaby leapt to the wall by the door, I drew Elizabeth behind the alcove curtains. I shielded her with my body, the dagger in my hand feeling insignificant as a toy. I tightened my hold, watching the apartment door open.

A stunted woman limped in. Her ankles contorted inward, displaying livid scars.

She paused in the center of the room.

“I told you, it’s the herbalist,” Sidney said again. Barnaby sagged with relief against the wall.

I looked closer. My entire world keeled.

Slowly, I stepped out of hiding. I knew it without needing to say a single thing, like a nail driven in my heart. All the blood in my veins seemed to empty. I saw no recognition in the withered face framed by an old-fashioned wimple—a leathery face, almost unrecognizable, scored by suffering. Even as I paused, all of a sudden, beset by a horrible, almost hopeful doubt, the scent of rosemary, of childhood, overcame me. I remembered what Peregrine had said:

He has that old nurse of his to take care of him.… She came here once … to fetch one of Edward’s spaniels.

I looked at her for an endless moment. Her eyes were bovine, dull in their resignation. I raised a trembling hand to her cheek, my fingers poised over her desiccated flesh. I was terrified of touching her, as if she were a mirage that might turn to dust. My heart pounded in my ears. If I hadn’t known it was true, that I was seeing her, here, in front of me, I would never have believed this was happening.

Not after all these haunted, grief-stricken years.

Behind me Elizabeth said, “You know her.”

And I heard myself reply, “Yes. Her name is Mistress Alice. She cared for me when I was a child. I was told she was dead.”

Silence ensued. Barnaby shut the door, planted himself in front of it.

I couldn’t take my eyes from her, couldn’t reconcile this brittle, ancient figure with the quick-witted woman enshrined in my memory. She’d always been spry, fleet of word and gesture; her eyes had been discerning, bright and keen, not these sunken hollow orbs.

She had left on a trip to Stratford, as she did every year. A few days to come and go, she’d said. Don’t fret, my pet. I’ll be back before you know it. But she didn’t come back. Thieves had beset her on the road: That’s what Master Shelton told me. I didn’t weep, didn’t ask to see her body or where she was buried. The pain was too intense. It hadn’t mattered. All that mattered was that she was gone. She was gone and she would never return to me. That’s what I’d been told. That’s what I believed. I was twelve years old and bereft of the one person in the world who had loved me. Her loss became an incurable wound that I hid deep within.

Now the question boiled inside me, with the force of an eruption.

Why? Why did you leave me?

But as I took in her appearance, I knew.

The scars on her ankles—I’d seen the same on mules condemned by unfeeling masters to a lifetime of hobbling about manacled, forced to turn the churning wheels of mills. I let my hand trail to her jaw, as I might soothe a frightened mare. Like a mare she understood. She opened her lips. Her mouth was dark inside. Defiled.

They had cut out her tongue.

A scream curdled in my throat. I choked it back as I heard Elizabeth utter, “Is this the woman who has been poisoning my brother?”

From the bed Sidney replied, “Yes. Lady Dudley brought her here … She gave her instructions, to make the treatments. But … she … she…”

“What?” Elizabeth snapped. “Spit it out!”

“Mistress Alice is a master herbalist,” I said. “She cured me of many illnesses in my childhood. She would never have done this willingly.”

Elizabeth pointed at her brother. “You can say that after what she’s done?”

Mistress Alice’s misshapen hand tugged at my jerkin. I looked into her eyes. The lump in my chest turned molten. Barnaby acknowledged my warning glance as I turned to where Elizabeth stood. “She’d never do this to any living being, much less to a man—not unless she was forced to,” I said. “She has been hurt, tortured. The duke ordered this done.”

“Why?” Elizabeth’s voice caught. “Dear God in heaven, why do this to him?”

“To keep him alive. To gain time,” was my grim reply.

Elizabeth stared at me. “I can’t leave him here. We must get him out of that bed.”

“We can’t,” I said, and she took one look at my face and stiffened. “We must go. Now.”

She glanced at Barnaby. “I don’t hear anything,” she said.

I answered, “Neither do I. But Mistress Alice does. Look at her.”

Elizabeth did. Mistress Alice had shuffled to the secret door and was motioning to us with unmistakable agitation. Her hands were unbearably twisted, those of a hundred-year-old crone. What they had done to her had stolen years from her life. She was not yet fifty.

I had to fight back my rage, and returned to Elizabeth. She met my stare defiantly and then turned away and made for the door without a backward glance.

Barnaby followed. Sidney bolted to a coffer, flung open the lid. He yanked out a jewel-hilted sword sheathed in leather and tossed it to me. “Edward has no need of it anymore. It’s of Toledo steel, a gift from the imperial ambassador. I’ll try and delay them while you get away.”

I knew instantly from the feel that it had been fashioned for someone light of build, like me. Only I could never have afforded such a sword on my own.

Mistress Alice shuffled purposefully to the bed. “See that Her Grace gets out safely,” I ordered Barnaby, and I kicked the secret door shut in his face. Sidney was at the main door. He froze, gaping at me. “Where are you going? They’re almost here!”

I moved to where Mistress Alice stood at the bedside table, rummaging through a wooden chest—her medicine chest, which she’d stashed on the kitchen shelf, out of my reach. I felt a cold shock as I realized I’d never even noticed it was missing, though she never took it with her when she traveled. Whenever I’d tried to peek inside it, she’d said,

Nothing in there for a big-eyed curious lad; no secrets for him to see.…

She turned, gazing at me as if she saw me for the first time. Tears leapt in my eyes as she took my hand. With quivering gnarled fingers, she set something wrapped in oiled cloth in my palm. She folded my fingers over it. I was captivated by the look that came over her face then, as if she had finally found redemption.

Then the door opened. Sidney was thrust back.

With her gift in one fist and the sword in the other, I pivoted to meet my past.