“Peace, ye fat guts!” The largest and sweatiest of the men spat at G. “No one’s gotchyer horse.”
“No, I need a horse.”
The large man belly laughed. “Of course ye do. Hey, Mason, get the beggar man a horse!”
The whole group belly laughed, and G thought better of telling them it really wasn’t that funny, and that the man who had spoken really had the fat guts, and instead he just took off running toward the castle.
G ran flat out for a good minute, minute and a half, before he realized he would have to pace himself, and as a man, he didn’t have the endurance he enjoyed as a horse.
It was going to be a long trip back to the castle.
Hours later, when he reached the gates, and spent extra time convincing the guards he really was the prince consort, he staggered into the main hall and through the series of stairways that would lead him to the queen’s chamber. It was well after the queen would’ve given up on him for supper and turned in.
He used his fist to bang on her chamber door.
“Jane!” he shouted. “Jane, open up.”
After a few long moments, she opened the door, the vestiges of sleep still in her gaze, a long robe draped over her shoulders. At the sight of G, she pulled the robe even tighter.
“What is it?” she said primly.
He pushed his way inside and shut the door behind them.
“This is very—” Jane started to say, but G cut her off.
“My lady, Your Majesty . . . Jane. You need to call a meeting of the Council Privy.”
“It’s the Privy Council, Gifford.”
“Yes. That. Call a meeting.” He sat her on the bed and told her a brief version of events, continuing even after her raised eyebrows at the part where he was in the bedroom of a brothel, all the way to seeing the troops. When he was finished, Jane took hold of one of the posts of her four-poster bed.
“But . . . but your father assured us we were fine.”
“Where is my father?” G asked. “Have you seen him today? Is he back?”
“No. I haven’t seen him since he left a few days ago.”
G took a deep breath. “Look, I haven’t been as forthright with you as I should, but please believe me. I thought I was acting in your best interests, and I will explain it all, but we need to call a meeting of the Privy Council now.”
She nodded, and G went to the door and shouted for the servant outside to gather the council members, and then he went back in and explained everything to his lady. The message his father had received about Mary. The fact that Mary would never accept Jane as queen. The emergency missive he’d received that had called him away. After he was finished, Jane’s face had drained of color, if that were possible for such a pale creature.
“But . . . surely we would have heard of soldiers encamped so close, especially if they were hostile to the crown.”
G nodded. “That’s why I wanted to call the meeting of the Privy Council. They all ratified the king’s change to the line of succession, but I feel that they have been keeping things from you, and me as well, because they didn’t think we could handle it yet.”
Jane’s face grew even paler, so at this point her skin was a gray color.
G took her hand. It was the first time they’d touched in days. “It will be all right. I’m sure the council knows of the advance, and has made preparations.”
Jane went to get dressed while they waited for the council to be gathered. G offered to leave and have one of her ladies come in and help her, but Jane begged him to stay (chair turned, of course) and insisted she could dress herself, because she’d been dressing herself for all these years and she certainly hadn’t forgotten—
G begged her not to explain.
She finished getting dressed. G went through their adjoining door, quickly put on trousers that fit and a simple tunic, and then returned to Jane.
And they waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Hours passed. There was no hint of dawn in the sky, but it couldn’t be far off.
Jane had taken to pacing her room, and G had the fleeting thought that they would have to reinforce her floor for all the pacing she had done in, what was it? Almost nine days of being queen.
Finally, there was a knock on the door.
G opened it, and there was the original messenger they’d sent. “Your lordship, I sent word to the members of the Privy Council, and well, most of them have quarters nearby, and some don’t, so some had to be tracked down . . . and . . . well . . .”
“Well what?” G said. “Are they all gathered yet?”
“No, my lord.”
“That’s all right. We will meet with the ones who are gathered so far.” It was getting late, after all, and he wanted to meet before the hour of horse.
“But, sir, there are . . . none.”
“None?”
“I do apologize, sir. There are none. I don’t know where they are. I’ve asked the queen’s guard to look, but I don’t know how hard they tried. . . .”
Suddenly, the messenger just stopped talking and ran away.
“G?” Jane said. “What is it?”