Taste of Treason Page 3

  Anne interrupted his musing. “Nay, Master Ballard, I am not seeking to arrange facts to suit me, but to be certain that I present them to you with no embroidery and in the correct order, so that I give you no preconceptions about the situation.”

  Luke did not reply, but sipped his wine, watching calculation flit over her face. He might only recently have attained Dominus level, but he knew that she was deciding how much to tell him and therefore being less than honest. She caught his glance and burst into peals of laughter.

  “Quite right. I should have known better than to try and outwit you. Very well, you shall hear all, and I trust to your discretion.”

  “I would never betray you, Your Grace.”

  Her face softened.

  “And you have had much trouble thrust upon you by us. And, Master Ballard, we are about to thrust more.”

  From her switch to the royal plural, Luke tensed, knowing that his new mission came direct from King Henry IX, though it would have been at her instigation. Her next words confirmed his fears.

  “His Majesty has entrusted to me the details of your next mission as King’s Privy Inquirer.”

  “Does it involve a threat to the King’s person?”

  “We do not know.” She drained her goblet and held it out to him, lapsing once more into informal speech. “Replenish my wine and I will recount all.” She waited, fondling Flute’s ears whilst Luke obeyed her. At her nod, he sat again and waited for her to continue.

  “Of course, it is only to be expected that there are certain groups within the court who always want to foment strife.” Queen Anne shook her head. “For every person like you who craves neither power nor wealth, there are a hundred willing to kick and scrabble over every barrier to gain riches and influence. The biggest power base in the realm is the close circle surrounding the King. Those who desire authority would sell their soul in paradise to be one of the chosen few.”

  “I understand that desire even if I do not share it, Your Grace.”

  She looked at him through narrowed eyes.

  “You may believe you understand the desire, but until you experience its all-consuming power, you can never hope to fight it effectively.”

  “I can read men’s aspirations and hopes as well as any elemancer.”

  Her irritation showed itself in an impatient sigh.

  “Mayhap so, but until you can also feel that overwhelming desire, taste it, you have no idea of its power. Understanding is only part of the puzzle. Even as we speak, you are discussing theory and not reality. There must be something you would put your soul in peril to achieve.”

  “I am a practical man, Your Grace, not a dealer in whims and fancies.”

  “Then you have my sympathy, Master Ballard, for until there is something you want above life itself, you have never lived. Believe me. I know.”

  Luke pursed his lips and waited for her to continue. Thus far he had heard nothing that he had not already known. Queen Anne waved a hand as if to waft away her irritation.

  “Words on walls, aye. The beginning of our trials. I saw the first message after the initial discovery. Only a handful of people know of it. I ordered a servant to remove it and to keep silent on the matter.”

  Luke did not doubt that particular servant would sooner bite out his tongue than let news of the incident slip out, for Queen Anne would know whose mouth had flapped. He suppressed a smile. Of course, she saw it and answered with a flash from those imperious black eyes.

  “Aye, Master Apothecary, I am still feared enough to guarantee silence. Thankfully, he is unable to read, so could not betray what was written, only that something was.”

  “Do you think it was repeated because the first effort failed to gain attention?”

  “Possibly, although the second message was different.” She folded her skirts about her, and laid a hand on her dog’s head. “From the Book of Exodus.”

  “‘Let my people go.’ The plea from Moses to Pharaoh,”

  “Indeed. One wonders who the Israelites are in this case. One does not have to puzzle over the identity of Pharaoh. Now the same phrase has appeared here at Hampton.”

  “So we have a Biblical reference to someone who worships false gods, another to a tyrant, and now the murder of this poor child.”

  The Queen Mother sighed. “I do not have to tell you the impact it has had on my daughter-in-law.” Anne rose and began to pace the shop. “After the birth of Elizabeth, some unnamed person placed in my chamber a book portraying me minus my head, in case I was not aware of the degree of hatred towards me. You can imagine the effect on my nerves. Many declared I was unable to bear a son. All feared I would lose the babe. No, that is not true. Many hoped I would miscarry. I knew I carried the heir and that made me determined to prove them wrong. As I did.”

  “And do you think that was the aim in this case, Madam?” he asked. “To try and force the Queen to have her child before her time?”

  She sank back onto the settle and sighed.

  “I do not know, Master Ballard. I have, by my skills, been able to calm and comfort Madeleine. There is no danger that she will miscarry the child. I have further reinforced that by insisting that she and Henry come here, away from London. The delegations were glad to depart away from the sickness.”

  “Praise be to God for your actions, Your Grace, but if the perpetrator is now at Hampton Court, is not the Queen still in danger?”

  “Fool. Here I can protect her more effectively.”

  Luke inclined his head in apology.

  “Of course, Your Grace. Though I am still confused. What is my task in this matter? Which factions at court would gain any significant power with the loss of the heir or the death of the Queen?”

  “You are not using your logic. This marriage was of my making. The Spanish held sway in this realm of ours for far too long. I wanted balance.” At the word, she glanced across at Luke, a sly smile on her face. “Aye, Master Ballard. Balance, the goal of every elemancer.”

  “I do not understand why anyone would want to harm the Queen, for all that,” he replied.

  “It is...complex. Madeleine is despised by the Protestants because she is a Catholic and distrusted by the Catholics because she is not Spanish. You must remember that Katherine of Aragon was much loved by the people. Furthermore, England holds, and has always held, the balance of power between the French and Spanish empires. The peace is finely poised and there are many who would love to plunge us into war. Fuentes, the new Spanish ambassador, daily finds occasion for directing small darts of malice towards Madeleine. He merely takes advantage of the fact that the English distrust all foreigners, but the French most of all.”

  “Then surely, the most logical thing to do would be to kill the King, not the Queen?”

  She banged her goblet down on the settle beside her and Luke sensed the degree of frustration and fear she had hitherto hidden.

  “Why do you think I am talking to you, dolt? I have no idea who is at risk. I am still hated, despite everything I do. Why? Spanish Katherine could not give his late Majesty a boy and refused to stand aside so that I could. Had she the good of England in her heart, she would have done as the King wanted and gone willingly into a nunnery. Instead she and her cohorts brought England to the brink of schism, even after I had borne the son and heir. I must abide by the laws governing my talent, but what use is it to be an elemancer and not be permitted to use my powers to seek out traitors?”

  Ah, here was the nub of it. For all her authority, influence and magic ability, she could not ensure the safety of the dynasty. For someone of her intellect, the social restrictions on women would indeed be infuriating.

  “Mayhap, Your Grace, because that would upset the balance.” Luke kept his voice even in an effort to calm her temper.

  Her eyes narrowed and her top lip lifted in something very like a snarl.

  “Do not mock me, little man.”

  “In truth, Madam, you mistake me, and forgive me if I say so, but this cannot
be the first time you have encountered this form of reverse.” He gathered his thoughts. “You are too close to the problem. That would distort your conclusions. Have you no further clues as to the murderer of the Brook girl?”

  He could see the Queen Mother almost physically reining in her temper.

  “You are right, Dominus. I am a queen, mother to a king and for all that, I am not as free as you. As to the dead girl, I have one clue, but it does not tell me who the perpetrator is or which faction they support.”

  Luke waited. Everything seemed clear to him. Somebody had decided to try and frighten the Queen into a miscarriage or worse. Should Madeleine die, it would give the culprit the opportunity to influence the King in his choice of a new wife, thereby gaining the power and influence the perpetrator sought. He put this premise to Queen Anne.

  “It is not as straightforward as that. By some miracle, my son and daughter-in-law are deep in love with each other, mirroring the love that I shared with the late King. If Madeleine were to die now, I do not doubt that Henry would marry again, but it would be a long time in the future. Any who tried to persuade him into a speedy new marriage would be suspect. That, however, is not my primary concern.”

  “Then mayhap Your Grace should tell me what is.” His smile robbed the words of any hint of disrespect.

  “There was one more thing scrawled under the quotation from Exodus. Something I do not understand. A strange-looking drawing in the shape of a spider.” She stopped, one hand to her throat when Luke sprang to his feet, the goblet dropping to the floor.

  “Madam, please, if I give you pen and paper, could you draw it for me?”

  Her eyes blinked more rapidly than usual, but she merely nodded.

  “I will try. It is clear this means something to you.”

  Luke rifled through a pile of papers on the counter looking for a clean piece, swearing when the stack tipped onto the floor. His anxious fingers grasped at the inkhorn, spilling half the contents on his sleeve. Cursing under his breath, he brought pen, ink and paper over to the Queen Mother.

  He hovered over her, watching as her hand moved over the paper, his breathing growing more ragged. Had she not been who she was, he would have screamed when she made two false starts. She looked up at him and he stepped away, his fingernails picking at the cuticles of his other hand. The wait seemed endless, but when she had finished, she held out the paper and he took it in trembling hands.

  “Well, Dominus?”

  “Your Grace, forgive me, but are you certain the legs resembled arrows?”

  “Of course.” She paused for a moment. “You recognize this? What is it?”

  Now that his worst fears had been confirmed, Luke found his mind becoming calmer and his thoughts more measured.

  “Indeed, Madam. Your fears are vindicated. The spider is an ancient symbol for treachery and death. The arrow-like legs denote the impending descent of chaos.” He gave a shaky laugh. “I do not know why I am so affected. After all, we have already deduced that we are once more facing the malus nocte. In fact, this is the device of an inner sect of the sunderers. Custodes Tenebris. Few survive an encounter with one of their number.”

  Chapter Four

  Queen Madeleine reclined on her cushioned daybed. The hour grew late and Henry was meeting with Archbishop Cranmer. Again. Surely they had already sorted out details for the revision of the new prayer book? It was not as if Protestantism were the true faith. Why did her husband have to spend so much time away from her?

  Madeleine winced and shifted a little. The heir was doing his usual somersault routine. In fact she had said to Henry that had the child not been intended for the throne, he would make a wonderful tumbler. Her husband had roared with laughter, putting one hand under her chin and his other hand on her belly, jumping back as his unborn son kicked out. It had been her turn to laugh.

  Tired of sewing she brightened when her usher declared that her confessor craved admittance. She concluded that she must indeed be bored if the prospect of a visit from Father Reynard was pleasing.

  Olivier Reynard, tall, black-haired, with arresting eyes and a mouth Madeleine had once thought irreverently as very kissable, bowed and smiled. He had been sent by her uncle, the French king, to replace old Father Laurent. She believed him to be a good-natured man, if a little too conscious of his appearance, but did not yet feel at ease with him. His manner caused her occasional disquiet but she had to admit that he had a winning way about him, something that Father Laurent had never possessed.

  Reynard wore his priest’s robes with a style few could emulate and the enormous ruby ring on his left hand was testament to his love of finery. His had been the only ear into which she had whispered doubts and apprehensions regarding her new life in England. He had cajoled her into learning about Henry and her new country, insisting that it was her duty to grace her position and thus bring acclaim on her father’s court in Scotland and her uncle in France.

  Now he came forward, bowing and smiling, his dark eyes and the twist of his lips telling her that he saw her restlessness. She wondered whether to confess that Henry had broached the subject of her conversion to Protestantism when he had last visited her bedchamber.

  No, she decided. Not yet anyway.

  * * *

  “Custodes Tenebris. Treachery, death and chaos. A pretty mix,” Queen Anne said. “We must think, plan and not act with undue haste.”

  Luke marveled at her composure, coming so soon on the heels of her obvious frustration. Then he recalled the number of crises she had faced in her years as Queen. Few would forget how neatly she had turned the tables on Thomas Cromwell in the crisis of 1536. That wily politician had seldom been bested. His plan to have her executed had backfired in spectacular fashion.

  When Henry VIII was informed of the depths of Cromwell’s scheming, it had been Anne who had begged her husband to show clemency. She had waited four years before springing the trap. Long enough for Cromwell to relax and think he had escaped her.

  “So they do not hesitate to declare themselves?” she asked next.

  “It would be typical of their arrogance, Your Grace.”

  “I can see from your expression that this declaration of their presence is something that does not surprise you, Master Ballard. Tell me.”

  Luke gathered his thoughts before speaking.

  “I had a trance that left me perplexed, Your Grace. I assumed that when the enemy spoke to me, it would be Asmodeus returned for vengeance. Let us face it, Madam, when I overcame him last summer, he lost much more than just his reputation, but the voice in my trance referred to ‘us’ and ‘we’ not ‘I.’ I believe the eight legs of this spider symbol represents some new level of evil.”

  “So you believe Custodes Tenebris has already visited you?”

  “The voice called Asmodeus a pathetic trifler. It could, of course, be lying to intimidate us. What worries me most is the bruising. I have never had any kind of physical manifestation from a trance.”

  He pulled up his sleeve to show her the blue-purple contusions. She studied them in silence.

  “I have never seen this before either. It heralds nothing good. How I wish Master Dufay were not in France. Perhaps one day we will be able to link telepathically over large bodies of water.”

  “Aye, Your Grace, I understand it is the salt content of the sea that interferes with the communication.”

  “Whatever it is,” the Queen Mother snapped, “it is troublesome and a worry.” She sighed. “However, it cannot be helped. What is your counsel?”

  “We face a new unknown enemy. One who does not fear to announce his presence.”

  “You may be right, but sunderers are hunters of weakness in others. They are known for bringing despair and strife, not humility or modesty,” she replied. “I agree it is wise to assume the worst. Let us pray they are smug enough to feel that they are invincible. It may give us the time we need for the Elemagus to return. I begin to wonder if this summons from his French counterpart was
engineered so that he would not be here. I miss his wise counsel.”

  “Indeed, Madam. Fighting an unknown enemy is akin to plaiting fog. I am sure we face one sunderer, a member of this inner circle.”

  “Why?”

  “Because they would not risk more than one in case of disaster.”

  “Then mayhap you should give him a name, an identity on which to focus. He will then seem less nebulous. I suggest Nimrod, the mighty hunter who founded Babylon, the city that was constantly in rebellion against God.”

  Luke nodded.

  “A fine notion. Thank you, Your Grace.” He picked up her cloak. “Rob will be home soon. It is time you returned to the palace. I understand what you require of me now. Rest assured that I will do my utmost.”

  He bowed and doused the candles. Opening the door, he checked that they were unobserved before allowing Queen Anne out.

  * * *

  Luke spent the next day thinking about strategies, reinforcing his knowledge of those spells he might need in this fight and wishing he could speak to Dufay regarding Custodes Tenebris. That evening he sat with Rob in the snug safety of his kitchen. Their encounter with Asmodeus the previous year had only been successful due to a mixture of the will of God, sheer serendipity, and a little timely help from the Elemagus. He could not hope for that this time. Nobody knew when Dufay would return from France.

  Nimrod could be controlling anyone. Only two things were certain. The dupe would be living inside the palace and the sunderer would be aware of Luke’s elevation to Dominus status. His year of study had taught him much about the enemy. Disasters that ordinary mortals put at God’s door were seldom the work of the divine creator. Ruined harvests, sickness, droughts or floods. Luke caught his breath. Had the sweats been called down by the enemy? It would not surprise him. One more thought struck him. Nimrod must be aware that the elemancer had triumphed over Asmodeus. Could it be that this new menace had been put in place to gain revenge on Luke? He would keep that snippet to himself. The notion of the royal family coming under attack as an opportunity to engage him in battle again would not be well received by either the King or his mother.