A Queen's Spy by - (black authors fiction .TXT) 📖

A QUEEN’S SPY

 

by Sam Burnell

 

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First published in eBook and paperback 2017

Second Edition 2019

 

 

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© Sam Burnell 2017

 

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The right of Sam Burnell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the writer. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

 

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

 

Please note, this book is written in British English, so some spellings will vary from US English.

 

 

The Tudor Mystery Trials

 

The Tudor Heresy – Series Introduction

 

Full Length Novels

 

A Queen’s Spy

A Queen’s Traitor

A Queen’s Mercenary

A Queen’s Knight

A Queen’s Assassin

A Queen’s Privateer

CONTENTS

Character List

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Available on Amazon

 

For All My Children

 

Jules

Saffron

Savannah

Spyke

 

Thanks to

Jackson Palmer

 

 

Please note this book is written in British English, so some spellings will vary from US English.

Character List

Fitzwarren Household

William Fitzwarren – father of Richard and Robert

Eleanor Fitzwarren – his wife

Robert Fitzwarren – Richard’s brother

Jack Fitzwarren – William’s son

Richard Fitzwarren – William’s son

David – one of Robert’s men

Marie – Eleanor’s servant

Steven – Fitzwarren family priest

Harry – Richard’s cousin

The English Court

 

Duke of Northumberland

Jane Grey – Earl of Suffolk’s daughter married to Guildford Dudley

Henry Sidney – Northumberland’s son-in-law and friend of Edward VI

Duke of Suffolk – Henry Grey – Jane’s father

Thomas Seymour – husband of Catherine Parr, Henry VIII’s last wife

Sir Thomas Wyatt – Conspirator against Mary I

Edward Courtney – Plantagenet descendent with a tenuous claim to the throne

Earl of Derby – Mary’s supporter

Lord Effingham – Mary’s councillor

Kate Ashley – Elizabeth’s governess

Renard – Spanish Ambassador

Henry Walgrave – Renard’s man

Thomas Pierce – Renard’s man

Somer – Crown Servant

The Byrne Household

Edward Byrne – One of Northumberland’s conspirators

Judith Byrne – His wife

Geoffrey Byrne – His son

Whickham – One of Northumberland’s conspirators

The de Bernay Household

Peter de Bernay – A supporter of Mary, and owner of Assingham

Anne de Bernay – his wife

Catherine de Bernay – his daughter

Martha – servant

John – servant

Richard’s mercenary band

Dan – Also a family servant

Mat

Marc

Froggy Tate

Alan

Robby

Pierre

Martin

Gavin

Harry’s Men

Peter Hardwood

Willy

Gad

Hal

Nancy – Hal’s sister in law

Spratty

Other characters

Jamie – A priest at Burton Village

Mya – A London Pawn broker

Robert Hastley – Northumberland’s supporter, owner of Burton

Guy – Hastley’s servant

Knoll – Miller at Burton

Carew – One of Wyatt’s conspirators

Hanwyn – Carew’s servant

Sir Ayscough – Lincoln Sheriff

Introduction

 

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“Richard Fitzwarren is joining the hunt.”

The news passed quickly amongst those gathering for the morning expedition, spreading with it a palpable tension. When Robert Fitzwarren uttered his brother’s name it was with scornful contempt. His servants exchanged expectant glances; they knew of the enmity between the two, although not the cause. When they spoke, it was quietly, in low voices, asking each other, ‘Would he dare to come?’ and ‘Would Robert kill him if he did?’

The mist still clung to the fields, stealing the colour from the trees as the group of men readied themselves for the chase through fog-riddled glens and boggy marshland. A mounted man at the top of a hill cast a watchful gaze upon them. Although a mile distant, the muffled conversations, the laughter, and the barking of the dogs still reached his ears. It might have been a pleasant scene had they not been hunting for him. Automatically Richard’s hand went to his doublet and he felt beneath the material the hard square outline of the folded parchment. This was a confrontation that he had waited for, Robert would not be able to escape from the facts he carried with him. Holding his own horse still, Richard Fitzwarren waited, although not for long.

The pack broke and a group of riders headed up the hill towards him. Richard glared at the man at their head. This time, Robert… He was ready for the confrontation and was surprised when the group of riders slowed and stopped a good distance away. Too late, he realised their intention. Hauling hard on the reins, the horse’s serpentine neck twisted towards the trees, his heels hard in her sides, pressing her to flight.

It was too late.

Steel tipped, the wooden shaft loosed from the bow flew with deadly accuracy and tore into her neck as the mare turned her proud head towards the sanctuary of the trees.

Taking only three more trembling steps, the dying horse collapsed beneath him, throwing him to the ground. Instinctively Richard slipped his feet from the stirrups as he fell, pushing away from her crushing body. The fall was awkward, the mare’s last convulsive shake pitching him hard against a fallen bough. The snap was sickening as his left arm broke.

The mare’s faltering final steps had brought him closer to the safety of the trees. Dizzy, breathing heavily and with his stomach threatening to betray him, Richard scrambled into the leafy refuge. Behind him the hooves of his pursuers’ horses pounded up the hill.

Leaning heavily against a tree, eyes closed, he fought to stay conscious. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his body shook and his stomach convulsed. Retching made the splintered bone grate. Richard realised his vision was darkening.

No, no, not now. Please God, not now.

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, forcing himself to take even breaths.

He had been stupid, so damned stupid. What had possessed him to think his brother would do no more than confront him? He knew Robert better than that. Now they would run him to ground and he couldn’t even give himself the satisfaction of a fighting end.

Biting back a cry he pushed the broken arm inside his jacket. Damn Robert to Hell! Could this day get any worse?

With the arm supported, the pain lessened. The trunk behind him was taking his weight and Richard was grateful for the respite. With care, he drew his sword and was thankful to feel, for the last time, the familiar weight in his hand of the finely edged Toledo blade. The hand-and-a-half, bastard sword, was a heavy weapon. Richard knew he would have difficulty wielding it with one just one hand. The motto on the quillons beneath the hilt mocked him: Let them hate so long as they fear. Robert might hate him, but he doubted at this moment if he could instil fear in anyone.

Robert’s men were closing in, thrashing their way through the small wood, shouting to each other as they searched for him. It wasn’t going to be long before someone found him. Instinct tightened his grip on the leather hilt, whitening his knuckles.

As he waited, one of Robert’s men tethered their horse at the forest’s edge, near his dead mare, and began to walk towards him. Richard’s eyes were fastened on his face; he knew the man would not see him where he leaned heavily against the tree.

Don’t turn around…keep walking. Richard’s gaze switched to the horse. Could he make it?

But, turn around the man did and only feet from Richard whose blade he found levelled at his chest. In a straight fight, on a good day, Richard would not have waited, but with a broken arm he didn’t weigh his chances of success that highly. In fustian and old leather, Richard guessed the man was a servant, not one of his brother’s companions.

“Hold! This is not our argument.” Richard’s voice was taut with pain as he delivered the words.

His steel-grey eyes held the other’s blue ones. The servant raised his hands in a gesture of supplication and took a measured step backward. About to push himself from the tree and make his unsteady way towards the horse, Richard stopped when another mount came crashing through the undergrowth. It was Harry, his cousin, his brother’s lapdog and most ardent admirer.

“Jack, have you seen him?” the rider yelled at the servant. “Robert has placed a purse on his head.”

Jesus. Harry! I was wrong. Today could indeed get worse.

Then the unexpected happened.

Jack stepped towards Harry, took hold of his boot with both hands, rived it from the stirrup and thrust him over the horse’s back. Harry, wailing, landed on his back on the forest floor.

Richard needed no further invitation. He caught the reins Jack threw at him and hauled himself into the saddle. Turning the horse, he joined his rescuer and the pair pushed the horses into a gallop down the hillside.

 

Chapter One

London - February 1553

 

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John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, the most powerful man in England, was nervous. He found himself pacing outside the bedchamber of his young King. Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk, watched him from where he sat near one of the windows and shook his head.

Grey was a man of ambition and determination. In Henry’s court he had been the old King’s sword bearer, held offices of state, and even been part of the glut of youthful courtiers the King had surrounded himself with. Grey had been among those leading the troops that captured Bolougne, an able soldier and capable political animal whose personal aspirations were limitless. He had found himself ousted from Edward’s court by Somerset, England’s protector, who recognised all too well the threat Grey posed, for his marriage to Frances Brandon had connected his family to the throne. Somerset’s desire to hold the power alone led to his downfall; he had been cleared from Grey’s path when the young king had signed the warrant for the protector’s execution.

“For God’s sake man, sit down!” Suffolk sounded exasperated.

Dudley paused in his traverse of the room and turned towards the speaker. “I can’t just sit in here while those fools in there continue to mistreat him, can I?”

“John, there’s not a lot else you can