The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [36]
A spy: I was going to spy for Master Cecil, to help Princess Elizabeth. It wasn’t a role I could ever have envisioned for myself, even in my wildest moments. Only yesterday I had been riding into London, a callow lad pondering how best to adapt to my new post. One day later, I was returning to my master with treachery in my heart. I found it difficult to sort out my feelings about my own duplicity, until I thought of that frightened young woman standing alone in a corridor in her wine-spattered gown.
What is it you want of me, my gallant squire?
I had traversed several crowded, noisy blocks when I realized I was being followed. Once or twice, I caught a glimpse of the shadow behind me and had to resist the impulse to wheel about to confront it. I set my hand on my dagger, now at my hip. With a taut smile I continued, avoiding the dense undergrowth and trees of the hunting park. Rounding into King Street, which passed under a gateway through Whitehall, I paused to adjust my cap. When I felt the shadow draw close, I said, “Some fool courts a knife in his belly.”
A stricken pause followed. I glanced over my shoulder. “Why are you dodging me?” I asked, and flush-faced Peregrine replied, “You … because you needed my protection.”
“I see. So you witnessed the attack.” I hooked my hands in my belt. “You might have called for help. Or, better yet, gone and fetched some. Or didn’t I pay you enough?”
“I was going to, at first,” he said in a rush, “but I decided to follow you instead, in case they hit you over the head and threw you in the river. I used to fish out corpses for a living. You’re lucky I did, too, because I wasn’t alone.”
“Oh?” I raised my eyes to scan the vicinity. “Someone fished out corpses with you?”
“No.” He sidled up to me, his voice lowering to an urgent whisper. “Someone else is following you. I saw him come out of the trees in the park after you were taken. He crept around the manor while you were inside, peeking in windows and—Ouch!” Peregrine yelped as I grabbed him by his jerkin, thrusting him into a side alley.
He struggled. I clamped a hand to his mouth. “Be still, coxcomb. Whoever you saw back there could be watching at this very moment. Do you want us both to end up in the river?”
His eyes widened. Removing my hand, keeping one eye on the alley’s entrance, I said, “Do you know who he is?”
He nodded, and wormed out from inside his jerkin a pocket dagger. I had to grin. I’d had one just like it when I was a boy, good for slicing apples and hunting squirrel. “Does he know you?”
“No. Or, at least, not by name. He came to the stables a few days ago, but I didn’t attend him. He had two horses stalled. He’s wearing a hood and cloak today, but I recognized him. When he left the stables, he kicked one of the yard mutts. It was just wagging its tail, hoping to be petted, and he kicked it.” Peregrine grimaced. “I hate anyone who kicks a dog.”
“Me, too.” I took off my cap, wiped cold sweat from my brow. Our mystery man hadn’t accosted us, though the alleyway, snaking as it did to a dead end littered with refuse, presented the ideal spot for an ambush. Either he wasn’t willing to reveal himself or he wasn’t yet ready to risk a confrontation. Neither offered consolation.
I opened my pouch to ladle coins into Peregrine’s palm. “Listen closely. I can’t afford to play right now, much as I’d like to. I assume your work can be neglected, seeing as you followed me here, so can you find out where he goes without getting into trouble?”
“I’ve been tiptoeing around him all morning. I’ll find out everything you need to know. Trust me. I can be sly as a snake when I want to.”
“Oh, I’m sure. Here’s what we’ll do.” I explained quickly, then clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder and hauled him back to the street, where I threw him from my side.
“And don’t let me see the likes of you again! Next time, I’ll feed you to my pigs, you thieving knave!”
Peregrine scampered off. Several passersby paused to wag their heads at this