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

Derby had wanted to take the fight to Wyatt, he would have crossed London Bridge, the bridge’s narrow roadway would have denied him any kind of quick retreat and then Wyatt would have had him in the trap. If he had pressed his advantage, and Wyatt was an able commander, there was no reason to suppose he would not, then Derby would have found himself cut off from the capital. It would be highly likely his force would have been divided.

Oh God! All in the cause of damned efficiency.

Richard rolled his head sideways and was sick on the tiled floor.

†

“Hold.” Jack slung the reins into Catherine’s hands. “Right, we’ll stop here tonight. Get yourself down.”

Catherine, getting no help to dismount, slithered inelegantly from the saddle and followed Jack to the door. It was dark now, the yard of the inn lit only slightly by the moon.

“Come on, let’s get you dry,” Jack said as they crossed the inn and ascended the low stairs to a room appointed to them above. Jack sat on the bed and looked closely at her for the first time that day.

“Now, pray sit and tell me what I have done to deserve this. Spare no detail: I am an eager listener,” he said, dropping his wet boots on the floor, before kneeling to light the fire.

“I was lodging with Christopher Haden and his wife, two streets away from Richard’s house in Chapel Street,” Catherine supplied.

“Pass me the tinder box, it’s in my pack,” Jack interrupted, then asked, “Who’s Christopher Haden?”

“He used to be a tutor in the Fitzwarren household when Richard was younger and they had kept in touch. I was stopping with him while Richard contacted my family.” Catherine flipped open the top of the pack, a quick rummage brought the wooden tinder box to the top, she placed it in his open hand before she continued. “Richard had written to my family, and he was waiting for a reply, but so far I have heard nothing.”

“So what brought you to the gates of Richard’s house?” Jack asked as the first sparks from the tinder box began to turn to small bright flames in the hearth.

“There was fighting in the streets. Master Haden had barred all the doors to the house, but then he feared for our safety and we left the house in the back of a cart driven by two of his servants. We rounded a corner and the servants saw the armed men running towards them and abandoned us. Master Haden shouted for us to run for our lives, and I found my way to the house in Chapel Street,” Catherine explained, wiping the back of her hand across her dripping nose.

“You were lucky Dan let you in,” Jack observed as he added several more pieces of wood to the growing fire before rocking back on his heels.

“My thanks are his,” Catherine said sincerely.

“Come and sit over here near the fire lass, you’re shivering with cold,” Jack said, turning to look at her.

Catherine joined him and sat on the floor next to him.

“So, what are we to do now?” Jack dropped to sit cross legged next to her, his blue eyes meeting her brown ones.

“I don’t want to go back to London,” Catherine said quickly.

“A return at the moment is not an option. The City is not safe, and it is Richard who has the contacts, not me,” Jack said, holding his hands out to let the orange flames warm them. He could take her back to the abbey if she would go, or he could take her to the Lincolnshire Manor. Although he did not really want the responsibility for her, and he couldn’t see Richard being pleased that he had taken her there either. It was not a place for a woman, since he had turned Guy off the place was little more than a soldier’s barracks. Jack could well imagine the ribald comments and attention that she would attract. “Where would you wish to go, Catherine?” Jack asked, hopeful that she would have a destination in mind, and that his responsibility for her would be a short one.

“I don’t know,” she simply replied as she took one of the logs from the stack near the fire and added it the pyre. “My family still believes me dead. And who wants me resurrecting from the grave to get in the way of a nice inheritance?”

Her tone told him that Catherine was aware now of the seriousness of her situation, and he grimly accepted her words. “Wait here, let me see if I can find some food,” Jack pushed himself up from the floor and left her alone.

She was still seated where he had left her when he returned carrying a tray laden with beer, bread, cut meat, cheese, hot pottage – Jack was hungry, he never liked to deal with a problem on an empty stomach.

Catherine helped herself to food from the tray, and they sat in silence while Jack ate enough to stop his stomach from complaining.

“You are not much help. Here…” Jack leant across and refilled her cup with beer.

Catherine set the full cup down on the floor next to her. “Richard told me you were a knight. Surely you must know somewhere I could lodge as a guest…” Catherine waved a hand in the air and did not continue.

Jack choked on his beer.

“What?” Catherine blurted, annoyed.

Jack was still laughing loudly.

“Tell me!” Catherine demanded.

Jack’s body was still shaking with mirth, tears in his eyes, he couldn’t answer her.

“Tell me what I said that is so funny?” Catherine wasn’t amused.

“Do I look like a knight?” Jack finally managed, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes.

Catherine did not reply.

More seriously, he said, “Tell me what you see, lady?”

“I see…” she paused. “This is stupid. What are you trying to say? Just tell me, what was it I said that you found so funny?”

Jack, still smiling, refilled his empty cup. “I’m no knight. I am landless, penniless and nobody’s heir. I am quite simply no one.”

“That sounds like someone feeling pity for themselves. I am well acquainted with that feeling,” Catherine replied bitingly.

Jack looked up sharply, about to tell her that she had no idea how it felt, then realised before he spoke that she probably did. “I am Richard’s brother,” he said simply. It seemed like confession enough.

“Well, I can be forgiven if I had not noted the family resemblance,” Catherine was still annoyed. “Go on, I guess there is more to it than that.”

“We are a pair, you and I,” Jack dropped back on the floor, propped up on one elbow and observed her levelly. “We have and yet we have not.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean? Don’t talk in riddles. If you have something to say, speak it. Do not make me guess at the edges of it. I am in no mood for word games,” Catherine snapped at him.

Her directness shocked him. “All right, lady, I shall tell you, and perhaps you can tell me what to do.”

Catherine listened in silence as Jack told the story he last revealed to Jamie with the addition of the information he had recently received from the Abbess.

“Well, I think that we are, as you say, a pair, and both of us need recompense from one man. I will place myself where you best think I can meet him,” Catherine said quietly. “Where will you go?”

Jack didn’t answer.

“Where would you go if I was not with you?” Catherine persisted.

“To Richard’s manor at Burton,” he replied at last, rolling to his back. Jack stared at the ceiling, his eyes unfocused.

“Well, I should wait there for him also. Send word to Richard that I am safe outside London and request that he continues to try and contact my family,” Catherine said simply.

“I cannot take you there,” Jack protested, sitting back up quickly.

“Why not?” Catherine said.

“Burton is not a place with pretty rooms and waiting ladies. It’s where Richard trains and keeps his men, it’s little more than a soldiers’ barracks. I could not close my eyes there and guarantee your safety,” Jack said sounding exasperated. Catherine was simply a problem he didn’t want.

“Well, it seems to me, it doesn’t matter where I am. At the moment, no one can guarantee my safety, and I have been coping without the assistance of a waiting lady for quite some time.” When he didn’t reply she added, tears springing to her eyes, “Please, I’ve no-one else to turn to. You are the only person I can trust.”

It was a plea Jack knew he could not ignore. “My lady,” he said ceremoniously from where he still lay on the floor, his arms spread wide, “I am at your service. Which still, I would like to point out, does not solve our present problem.”

“Take me to Burton. You know the way and you are known there. Surely if you are with me I can come to no harm,” Catherine continued persuasively.

Jack grunted. “It’s only a day’s ride, I suppose.”

Catherine smiled at him, relief plain on her face. “Thank you, thank you.”

“You might not be thanking me after you have been there for a few days,” Jack said, returning to gaze at the dark-beamed ceiling in the room. The beginnings of an idea were starting to form of how he could take her to Burton and keep the men’s hands and cruel words from her, he certainly couldn’t watch over her all day. He did feel sorry for her, the girl had not had a good time recently, and in a way he felt partly to blame for her circumstances.

Turning his head sideways he caught her looking at the sword that he had unbuckled and now lay on the floor near the fire. Catherine smiled at him. “That could be a knight’s sword. My father has one he let me hold sometimes, but this part here,” Catherine reached over and placed a finger on the cold steel, “was different.”

“The pommel,” supplied Jack, rolling onto one side to better observe her, “how was it different?”

“It was just round, and plain, this is beautifully engraved.” Catherine peered closer, “There is a dragon carved into the metal, look, here’s its head and its body twists round this side and the tail winds right the way down to the hilt.”

The sword was Jack’s most prized possession, and he was pleased. “Turn it over, and on the reverse you can see the wings and the dragons eyes are rubies. It was, by all accounts, my father’s.” He pauses, staring at it. “Richard gave it to me.”

Catherine met his eyes, her smiled genuine, “What does the Latin say? It’s too dark for me to read it properly.”

“Let them hate so long as they fear,” Jack stated, then added, “it is the family motto.”

Catherine laughed then, “Well that’s very fitting for your brother, I can imagine there are plenty that hate