The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [41]
That got his attention. He reared his face up, furious. “Of course he exists! And why would Walsingham want to trick you? You both work for Cecil.”
“Perhaps, but then I never thought you’d trick me, either.”
“I haven’t!” His protest resounded into the stables, causing the horses to stomp their hooves and grooms to look up. Abashed, he dropped his voice. “I didn’t trick you,” he repeated. “I’m not Walsingham’s lackey. Yes, he came and ordered me to see you to that path. He knew you were asleep in the hay pile. Don’t ask me how. But I don’t work for him, and he didn’t pay me. He said either I did as he told me, or else. I figured you’d fallen into serious trouble when his men took you, so I decided to follow you, in case.”
“In case what? You could fish out my corpse from the river and steal my pouch?”
He glared. “In case you needed me. I … I like you.”
I heard an unwilling ring of truth in his avowal. Had I been in his place, I would have done the same. I knew what it felt like to be scared and have everything to lose. Moreover, Walsingham wasn’t one to tolerate no for an answer, particularly from some urchin he’d just as soon kick as look at.
“Let’s say for argument’s sake that I believe you,” I said at length. “I still can’t hire you. I don’t have a treasury to draw upon, and who’s to say what’ll happen the next time someone offers you a few coins?”
“I’ll work for free, then, to prove myself. I’m not afraid of anything. I’ll go anywhere you want me to, find out anything you need to know. All you have to do is tell me.”
I softened my tone. “I’m sorry, but the answer is no. This task I’m entrusted with … it could be very dangerous. I’ll not put you at risk.”
“I’ve been at risk all of my life. I can take care of myself.”
“I realize that. But I can’t allow it.”
“Why not? You obviously need someone to help you. You can’t possibly hope to save the princess without—” Choking on his own words, Peregrine leapt back from me into Cinnabar’s rump. He was lucky that my horse was a tolerant creature, unlikely to kick unless provoked.
I rounded on him. “How do you know about that? And don’t you dare lie to me this time, or you’ll rue the day we met.”
“I overheard it. At Cecil’s house. The window … it was ajar.”
“And you were there the entire time, listening?”
“Yes. Our man almost saw me. He crept right past the hedge where I was hiding. I could have reached out and grabbed his cloak.”
I went still. “He also heard? Everything?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so, or at least not all of it. He wasn’t there long enough. When Cecil’s wife and son came into the garden, they scared him off.”
“Cecil’s wife and son?” I almost rolled my eyes. “You knew who they were? You are the little snake, aren’t you?”
He let out a nervous laugh. “Yes! Yes, I am. See? This little snake can be of use to you.”
“Not so fast. What else do you know? Best tell me now. I hate surprises.”
“Nothing. I swear it on my mother’s soul, may she rest in peace, whoever she was.”
Whoever she was …
I paused. I should order him back to Whitehall, back to his life of anonymity and opportunism. It would be safer than whatever awaited here.
But I knew I wouldn’t. I saw myself in him, the child I had been. He deserved a chance. I just hoped neither of us would have reason to regret it.
“I expect you to earn your keep,” I said. “And to obey me in all things, no matter what.”
He sketched a clumsy bow. “Say no more, master. I’ll do anything you require.”
I couldn’t contain my smile. “And don’t call me that. My name will suit fine.”
Peregrine’s smile was so fulsome it warmed my heart. It was certainly an odd way to go about making a friend, but a friend I had made, nevertheless.
Chapter Thirteen
It turned out that my new friend was also extraordinarily well versed on the layout of Greenwich, having been here on several occasions and in various capacities, including as a scullion. He’d ridden transport barges with animals from London, brought the creatures to their various