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

The woman was halfway through butchering the hind with the help of her niece and had told Richard if he wanted water boiling then he could fetch the firewood himself. There followed a heated and short exchange, after which Tilly left Ada to guard the carcass against the manor’s dogs and went off to bring in the firewood and water.

The girl was still wrapped in his cloak when he carried her up the main stone stairs to her room. The cloak was wet and he replaced it with a blanket from the bed, laying her on the floor, her head on a cushion, in front of the freshly lit fire.

“Oh, no, my pretty, don’t you go to sleep,” Richard said in a stern voice, his hands on her shoulders as he tried to rouse her. “Catherine, listen to me, can you hear me?”

He didn’t receive a reply, her eyelids opened for a moment only, before closing again.

“Catherine, wake up,” Richard looked around the room, finding a pitcher of cold water he slopped a good measure over her face.

“Ahhh!” Catherine exclaimed, the slap of the icy water jolting her back awake. “No, please, I want to go…” Her words trailed off.

Richard pulled her to a sitting position. “Listen, Catherine, carefully. You fell in the stream, spent half the day soaking wet in the wind and you are half frozen. You must stay awake. If you sleep you’ll not wake up again. Answer me,” he demanded again, giving her shoulder a good shake.

“I hear you,” Catherine replied quietly.

Satisfied he let her go. Rising he answered the knock on the door and let in Tilly as she dragged in one of the wash tubs with the help of Marc. After Tilly had made a dozen trips back to the kitchen the tub was full.

Catherine’s eyes had closed against the world again when Richard picked her up, her hand tried to ineffectually grasp at the blanket that slithered to the floor.

A moment later Richard stood back, his arms dripping from the elbows, his shirt soaked.

Catherine, still dressed, was submerged almost fully in the hot water he had kicked the kitchen staff bodily to provide. He knelt, his arms resting on the rim of the tub, and looked at her. “Nice?” he enquired.

Catherine did not look at him but moved down into the hot depths of the tub. “Did you feel it necessary to leave my boots on?” she asked, a half smile tentatively on her face.

“Foot,” Richard commanded, moving to stand at the end of the tub. The surface of the water erupted as a boot emerged. “Next.” The second was thrown to land discarded by the first, water running to pool on the floor.

“Thank you,” Catherine said.

“Shout before you dissolve and I shall get you out of there,” Richard said. “I hope we can call a truce, you and I.”

“A truce?” Catherine repeated.

“Can you not see that you and I are both on the same side?” Richard asked.

Catherine looked away, ashamed. “I suppose I can… a truce then.”

 

Chapter Twenty-two

 

†

 

 

On May 19, 1554, Elizabeth finally left the confines of the Tower. Renard had ceased to press for a case of treason to be laid against her and the Privy Council admitted to Mary that there was indeed only insubstantial evidence against her. The Council was also swayed by fears for the succession. Mary remained unmarried and doubts continued about her ability, due to her age, to bear a child for England. Instead, marriage plans for Elizabeth were the subject of council conversations as a possible route to securing an heir.

That same month, the Court moved to Richmond, and Elizabeth to Woodstock in Oxfordshire. It was an improvement on the Tower, but still she remained as she had done at Whitehall: under close guard. There was to be no doubt in her mind that she remained Mary’s prisoner, her household comprised of six servants only, including Kate. She was not allowed visitors, and Bedingfield, her gaoler, had instructions to keep from her the means to write letters. Elizabeth’s communications with Mary were not welcomed. They wished to silence the thorn and leave England’s rose quietly in the wings while the country’s main players watched to see if the pending marriage could solve the question of the succession.

Elizabeth and Mary were not the only ones to have been moving. Catherine too moved that May from the draughty rooms at Burton to slightly more comfortable rooms in Lincoln. Richard decreed that it was not suitable or safe for her to remain at the manor. Catherine did not argue. Although no longer afraid of Richard, she was still uncomfortable in his presence and life at Burton was, to say the least, not easy.

 

 

 

†

 

 

 

How they made the connection he was never sure, but nevertheless Richard found himself linked to the conspirators, Wyatt and Courtenay.

The night he visited Kate in the garden after Elizabeth had left for the Tower, he had been watched over by a man who followed him back to his house and had then reported the incident to Renard. From that moment, a watch was set on his house, and although for many months nothing damning was revealed, eventually a messenger leaving Richard’s house was traced to Thomas Parry, part of the Lady Elizabeth’s household, and the connection was made. The allegations that Robert had made were now painfully confirmed.

Renard had contacted Robert after closer scrutiny had revealed that certain papers he knew had been through Richard’s hands were not what they should have been. Now Robert found himself meeting with Thomas Pierce, Renard’s man.

“It has been asked that I should come and talk about a matter you raised with Ambassador Renard some time ago,” Thomas Pierce said shortly. He was elderly, single minded and a cleric by trade and nature. Dourly dressed he was in sharp contrast with Robert’s lavish ostentation.

“That’s right. Seen sense, has he?” Robert sneered, not offering the man a seat.

Thomas Pierce chose to ignore the remark. “I wish only to know if you can tell me where we may find your brother.”

“I don’t know,” Robert admitted. “Do you believe now what I told you?”

“It has come to light that there may be something in what you alleged, yes,” Pierce conceded.

“Well, it’s treason, issue a warrant for his arrest. A day in the Tower and you’ll know for sure that I was right,” Robert said hotly.

“Unfortunately, no,” Thomas Pierce said, folding his hands in front of him. “So you have no idea as to his whereabouts?”

“What do you mean, ‘unfortunately no’? You can’t leave him to his devices any longer, surely?” Robert exclaimed.

Thomas Pierce sighed. “We wish to trace your brother, but a public execution is not our intent. Maybe some other charge…” He left the words to hang in the air between them.

Robert smiled. “Would murder be a valid reason to issue a warrant for his arrest?”

Thomas Pierce was smiling now. “Some such charge would allow him to be pursued as a common criminal, that’s true, it would be very helpful.”

Robert supplied him with such details as he had about Richard’s killing of Harry’s men. The bargain was plain. Should they move to arrest his brother then he, Robert, would be informed. Pierce told him they knew of the house in Chapel Street and confirmed their quarry had slipped from there and that he awaited word on whether he was at Burton. If he was, then, of course, Pierce would inform Robert.

Meanwhile, Dan slipped from Chapel street when men came in search of Richard, stole a horse from the stables of the Fox and spurred the beast from London to Burton to warn the master.

 

 

 

†

 

 

Richard’s mistake was that he was too sure that the charge he was to be arrested on was treason; that it would be couched in terms of blackmail and murder, he missed.

Richard grabbed his brother’s arm and steered him quickly along the corridor to his own room. Pushing Jack inside, he slammed the door.

“What the hell…” Jack protested, turning to face his brother.

“For once listen,” Richard’s voice was hard and serious.

“All I…” Jack tried again.

Richard raised his voice a fraction. “For once, listen. I will tell you all the bloody facts and then I will ask you, beg you if need be, to do something for me. I am to be arrested… Silence, Jack!” Richard raised his hand. “…very soon. The constable’s men are in Lincoln now. The charge, I believe, is treason. I want you to go and strike a deal with the constable for your life, the men’s lives and Burton, if you can manage it, in exchange for me. There’s plenty will believe your actions. I want you to do this now.” He raised his hand again. Jack’s eyes were wide. “Your conscience will be clear.” Richard produced a wry smile. “Don’t make me beg. It will make no difference. They will have me one way or the other, so take what you can from it. Now, go to Lincoln. There is a price on my head. Claim it. Take Dan with you. He knows already. Go.”

Richard had to physically propel Jack back towards the door, his brother was not for leaving. Dan appearing then, took a strong hold on the protesting Jack and managed to drag him from his Richard’s presence. Jack, confused and with questions pouring from him, allowed himself eventually to be taken by Dan to the yard and the waiting horses.

Richard watched them leave Burton, the horse’s hooves clattering on the cobbles at the gateway and then beating loudly on the wooden bridge before they took the road to Lincoln. The manor suddenly seemed silent, Richard was sure the only noise now was coming from inside his head. Rubbing a hand hard across his face and closing his eyes on the world for a moment he readied himself for what was about to happen.

 

 

 

†

 

 

 

Catherine was in Lincoln, it was market day and she had been perusing the stalls when she saw Dan loitering near a group of tethered horses. Crossing to him she found the big man agitated, and he soon told her what he knew.

“Master is just going to sit and wait for them. I cannot…” Dan was lost for words, his voice full of pain.

“Maybe he doesn’t believe they are really coming for him?” Catherine said, sounding confused.

“He knows alright, and just to make sure he’s sent Jack here to strike a deal for him,” Dan said shaking his head. “I was wrong, I was so wrong. Richard was right. He knew this would happen.”

“I don’t understand. Jack wouldn’t betray Richard, would he?” Catherine said, disbelief on her face.

“No. Unfortunately the master has set him to do it, and Jack didn't stop to think. I rode over with him just now, and he’s with the sheriff working out what he can get for himself. Look, over there.” Dan pointed and Catherine recognised Jack’s horse tethered where some uniformed soldiers waited. “Master made me swear to stand by Jack and carry out his wishes, but it is not something I do happily.”

“You’re right! We can’t just let them take him, we’ve got to warn him.” Catherine’s eyes had widened as she realised what was about to happen.

“Listen, lass,