Crossing Over - Anna Kendall [50]
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“And that such a crime is punishable by hanging?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” I saw the yellow-haired youth choking in the noose, kicking the air.
“Then why have you told me?”
“Because I thought you might wish to know. Because it might . . . might be useful to you to know. And you are my queen.”
She was silent. Her black eyes, with their glints of submerged silver, searched mine. Lord Robert said dryly, “And because he knows you value his ‘gift’ too highly to kill him, and may in the future remember his willingness to aid you.”
“That, too,” I said, and the queen smiled.
“You did well to tell me,” she said. “I won’t forget it. Roger, say nothing of what you heard tonight.”
“I will not, Your Grace.”
“You may go.”
In the outer chamber, I was immediately besieged by courtiers and ladies. “What happened in there, fool? What did the old queen say to Her Grace?”
What? What? What? The word echoed in my head, as if from a drum instead of being whispered from a dozen eager throats. They were like a bunch of ravens, feeding on carrion.
I said, “Her mother told Queen Caroline that the expenses of her household were too high.”
Lord Thomas said, “The fool is lying.”
Then Lady Cecilia cried, “Oh, look, the moon has risen full! Let’s all play a game of hide-the-coin among the courtyards! Such fun! Come, all of you, I shall go out and hide the coin first!”
She caught Lord Thomas by one hand, Lady Sarah by the other, and it was true that the moon had risen full. Its light shone through the window, lying silver on her bright face and on the hard, polished stone floor.
16
A WEEK LATER, I sat at the queen’s feet in the presence chamber, listening to the few petitioners who came to her and not to her mother. They were all peasants or farmers, allowed in because the Blue guards posted just beyond the door didn’t think they were worth keeping out. A peasant’s stolen cow, a farmer’s field in dispute. One of the queen’s advisors had fallen asleep, his beard stirring with his light snores.
In the courtyard beyond, someone screamed. Not a woman, a man.
The queen’s own guards leapt in front of the dais, shielding it. But no Blues were attacking; the ones stationed at the door looked as startled as everyone else. Another scream—a woman this time—and a shout. Then running outside, people rushing and calling, and the captain of the Green guard ran into the presence chamber and up to the queen, not even kneeling.
“Are you unharmed, Your Grace?”
“Yes, Captain, I am. What has happened?” She looked toward the door.
More Greens marched into the room and took up posts around the queen. The Blues at the open door looked at each other, clearly mystified and without orders, their hands on their swords.
“I asked you—what has happened?”
The captain knelt then, just as yet more Greens closed the doors to the presence chamber, shutting the Blue guards without, and barred it. The captain said, “Your Grace, Queen Eleanor has . . . The queen is dead. Long live the queen!”
“Dead?”
“Yes, Your Grace.” He did not raise his eyes but I, crouched on the bottom step of the throne and looking up, could see them. I saw no fear—he was a captain of the guards—but I saw doubt. Much terrible doubt.
“Did she—”
“Just now, Your Grace. She was with her advisors and she slumped to the floor and—the physicians are with her now. She—I—” He looked for certainty, and found it in duty. “There is unrest in the palace, Your Grace.”
The queen said sharply, “My children?”
“I have already secured the nursery; the princess and her brother are safe. But you must stay here until my men have secured the entire palace. Your privy chamber would be better yet.”
For the first time I realized why the privy chamber, and presumably the bedchamber beyond, had no windows.
“I will go to my privy chamber,” the queen said, “but only to dress. And as soon as possible, Captain, I will go to the throne room. Clear and secure that first. And if you can spare the men, have them bring to me my ladies of the bedchamber and Lord Robert Hopewell.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Roger,