The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [102]
I held my breath as Mary shifted her gaze to Rochester, who gave a slight nod.
“I do,” she said. “I need all the support I can get, even from your treacherous lords.”
The bite in her remark carried a warning. She wasn’t an easy woman to know, nor, it seemed, to please. What she had endured in her youth had marked her for life, warped her personality in some irreconcilable way. Elizabeth, it appeared, knew her well.
“Your Majesty,” I ventured, “with the duke about to take the field against you, the lords will be even better disposed to your cause.”
“I don’t care what their disposition is. They’d be wise to do as I say if they wish to keep their heads.” She went to her table, thrust two folded and sealed parchments at me.
“The sealed one is in cipher. Anyone with experience will know the key. Tell your lords they’re to follow it without deviation. The other is a letter for my cousin Jane Grey. Memorize it. It’s a private message meant for her ears alone, so if you can’t find a trustworthy way to convey it to her, destroy it. I don’t want it falling into the wrong hands.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” It was of course far more than I’d hoped to perform. Getting one letter into the proper hands would prove dangerous enough, much less two.
“I don’t expect a reply from either one,” she informed me. “I should be in London soon enough. But if you uncover any news that might influence my course, favorable or otherwise, I expect to be told. Your loyalty to those who’ve hired you should not supplant your allegiance to your queen. Do you understand?”
“Of course.” I started to bow over her hand. She withdrew it. Glancing up, I found her looking at me as if she no longer recognized me. “Give my regards to Master Cecil,” she said coldly. “Though it’s not in my instructions, tell him from me that he knows what he must do.”
I pocketed the letters and backed from her presence without a word.
LONDON
Chapter Twenty-seven
Mist wreathing off the Thames formed a wavering veil. The day already promised to be hot, the midmorning sun casting a luminescent chimera upon the thrust and sprawl of London.
It had been a short ride, a mere day and a half. I’d not taken much rest. I avoided the main thoroughfares and skirted all townships. A few discreet inquiries of passersby had revealed that every town was jammed to the rooftops with the queen’s supporters, gates shut and manned in anticipation of the duke. As with any situation that might result in anarchy, the streets were also teeming with riffraff. A lone man on a horse was an easy target, so I sought refuge in the woods, awakening before dawn to resume my ride.
I now sat atop a hill, a vantage spot from which to view the place where it had all started. Was it only eleven days ago that I had beheld this same city with the awestruck eyes of a boy eager to cull his fortune? Now, it made me feel hollow inside. All of my life, I had longed to know who I was and where I came from. Now a part of me longed to turn about and lose myself in an ordinary life, to forget a world where sons born to royal women were forsaken and men sacrificed kings to sate their ambitions. I knew now that whatever answers I had come to London to find would not reveal anything I wanted to hear.
Fortune often smiles on those least favored.
I gave a humorless chuckle. It seemed fortune had a sense of humor, for I, the least favored, had more than my share of responsibilities; and one of them drew near me even as I sat in the stillness, contemplating becoming a fugitive from my own truth.
I waited until I heard the telltale rustle, then said without looking about, “No use hiding anymore. I’ve known you were behind me since Bury Saint Edmunds.”
A muffled clop of hoof preceded Peregrine’s wary approach. He wore his hooded cloak. I took in the strips of homespun fettering