The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [29]
“You were saying the king doesn’t like to be indoors?” I prompted.
“Yes, Edward—I mean, the king—he always has to study or write or meet people he doesn’t care about, so sometimes he steals away to visit me. Or rather, his dogs and horses. I care for them. He loves his animals.”
“I see.” I thought of Elizabeth, of the fear on her face as she heard the duke’s pronouncements in the hall, and I had to restrain the urge to hurl questions at this boy. He had seen the king, perhaps recently. Conversed with him. What else might he know?
“And does he often come here, to the stables?” I said, thinking that if he were exaggerating his association with the king, it would show.
He didn’t look abashed at all. He shrugged again, with the nonchalance of one who knows not to pay much mind to the comings and goings of his betters. “He used to come more but he hasn’t been back in a while. The duke probably made him stop. Edward once told me his lordship reprimanded him for befriending menials. Or maybe he’s got too sick. He coughed up some blood the last time he was here. I had to fetch him some water. But at least he has that old nurse of his to take care of him.”
“Nurse?” For no apparent reason, the hair on my nape prickled.
“Yes. She came here once with a signed order from his lordship, to fetch one of Edward’s spaniels. An old woman with a bad limp. She smelled sweet, though, like some kind of herb.”
Though I stood on firm ground, for a second the stable swayed around me, as if it were a galleon in a storm. “Herb?” I heard myself say. “Which one?”
“How would I know?” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not a spit boy who turns the roast. Maybe she’s an herbalist or some such thing. I suppose when you’re the king and you get sick, you get one of those along with the doctors and leeches.”
I had to consciously remind myself to breathe, to not give in to the irrational urge to grab the lad by his collar. Everything that had transpired since I’d arrived had addled my wits. Plenty of women dabbled in herb lore, and besides, he’d said she was old, with a limp. I was jumping at shadows. Much good I’d be to anyone in this sorry state.
“Did this woman say who she was?” I managed to ask. Considering the circumstances, I could only hope my expression didn’t betray my chagrin at my own foolishness.
“No. She took the dog and left.”
I realized I should stop but I couldn’t help myself. “And you didn’t question her?”
Peregrine stared at me. “Now why would I do that? She knew the dog was Edward’s. Why else would she have come? In case you haven’t noticed, I mostly do as I’m told. Ask too many questions and you’re asking for trouble. I don’t want no trouble.”
“Of course.” I forced out a smile. I should cultivate this scamp. It certainly couldn’t hurt.
Peregrine leapt off the barrel. “Well, I have to get back to work. The Master of Nags is due back at any moment and he’ll have my hide if I don’t get the beasts fed and saddled. Everyone’s leaving for Greenwich today. I even have to crate Her Grace’s hound for transport. She’s like Edward, loves her animals. A pretty lady and nice, too, not like some people around here. She actually pays me.”
I gaped at him. “Her Grace the Princess Elizabeth? She … she was here?”
Peregrine laughed. “In the stables? You really did drink too much last night, didn’t you? No, Brendan Prescott from Worcestershire, her friend Secretary Cecil paid me last night to see to Urian. Hope you find your way back to wherever it is you belong.”
I scrambled in the straw for my cap. “Wait.” Searching my pouch for the largest coin I could find, I threw it to Peregrine. “I’m afraid I did overindulge last night. I was lucky to make it here. I don’t think I could find my way back by myself, and I should be in my master’s chamber already. Can you show me the way?”
He grinned, fingers clamped on the coin. “Only to the gardens; I have my work to do.”
* * *
The sun struggled to break through a pall of cloud. Wind nipped at my face, sharp as teeth, shredding flowerbeds and showering the air with petals. As Peregrine led me to a tree-lined