The Tudor Secret - C. W. Gortner [91]
She did not ask us how we felt about being entrusted with this duty. Crowned already in her mind, she merely assumed we would obey.
We followed her into the courtyard, where servants stuffed saddlebags with last-minute articles. Peregrine held our horses. His eyes snapped wide as he saw Barnaby dart around the side of the manor and return on his cob. While Rochester assisted the queen and her ladies to their mounts, Huddleston and Mary’s other manservants jumped onto theirs.
Barnaby mumbled to Peregrine and me, “We may need someone to defend us before this day is done.”
“Or maybe not,” I said. “Lord Robert looked none too fresh last I saw him.”
Barnaby chortled. “I thought I heard a rat in the brush. By the way, the beard suits you.”
“A precaution of my new trade. In case anyone should ask, my name is Daniel Beecham, of Lincolnshire.” I reached over to thump his back. “That was quite a voice you used, Durot. And the hair coloring is an accomplishment. How did you get yourself into Dudley’s company?”
“Let’s just say I was accosted by a certain earl who offered me the opportunity to avenge my king. The rest was easy. I made myself Robert’s bane from the start. If I had said she was in France, he’d have gone looking for her in Brussels. He was only too pleased to send me off ahead. He probably hoped some papist sniper would rid him of me for good.”
“You are bold. And you’ve helped save me twice now. I shan’t forget it.”
“Just pray you don’t need a third.” Barnaby’s expression turned somber as he looked up. He lifted his voice. “Your Majesty, the hour isn’t getting any longer.”
Swiveling in the saddle, a sickening lurch went through me. Horsemen rode down a distant hill, coming straight toward the manor.
“This way,” Barnaby shouted. Sandwiched between her servants, Mary galloped onto the road, hard after him as he led us to a ridge. Robert Dudley and his men were still too far off to pose an immediate threat, but as we climbed the path single file, the sun wringing sweat from our brows, we discovered we weren’t moving fast enough.
A gasp escaped the women. Behind us rose a plume of thick black smoke. The manor we had left was being torched.
At Mary’s side, Huddleston went white. “Let it burn,” she told him. “I’ll build you a finer house. You have my word as your queen.”
Huddleston’s dismayed look indicated he wasn’t taking her promise to heart.
I motioned Barnaby aside. “We’re too easy a target. We have to divide their pursuit.”
Barnaby assented. “What do you suggest?”
“You proceed with Her Majesty and three of her people. Let Peregrine take the others along a different route. That way, Robert and his men will have to separate. The less there are after her, the better her chances are of reaching Framlingham.”
“Good plan.” He paused. “What are you going to do?”
I gave him a cold smile. “I’ve an overdue appointment. I’ll need your bow.”
* * *
Peregrine kicked up a storm before he was convinced of the necessity of sacrificing personal preference in order to serve his queen. To my surprise, Rochester supported my proposition. Mary also agreed, insisting I come to her once I’d scouted the lay of the land, which I cited as my reason for staying behind. The two parties galloped off in opposite directions, the queen’s escort headed farther into the hills, Peregrine’s party turning to the road toward Essex.
As I scrambled up an incline and set Cinnabar loose to graze, I offered up a prayer for their safety, especially the queen, whom I found I admired more than my employer might prefer.
I located a cluster of boulders to hide behind and turned my focus to the winding path, notching an arrow in anticipation.
It didn’t take long. As an influx of scudding clouds smothered the sun, four men came charging up the path, soot faced and sweat soaked. Robert wasn’t among them. I soon found out why. The men dismounted a stone