And Less Than Kind Read online

  To his mild disappointment, there were no feet. Despite her concern over Mary, Rhoslyn smiled at him.

  "It's the arm," she said, and Harry looked at the arm as she lifted her bowl of fruit off it. Under the bowl were little flat fingers that withdrew as Rhoslyn placed the bowl and her cup of wine on the table.

  There were some moments of silence while everyone began to eat, Pasgen with considerable eagerness. After a while, however, Denoriel, who had been frowning, repeated, "Northumberland?"

  "Would he dare?" Aleneil asked.

  "He faces ruin if Mary comes to the throne," Harry said a little thickly as he swallowed steak, onion, and mushroom, and then more clearly, "Why should he not dare to try to be rid of my sister Mary, especially if it can seem to be an accident."

  "Would he really be ruined?" Aleneil asked. "I know he would lose his power and not be able to add to his wealth when Mary is queen, but ruin?"

  "Ruin," Harry said firmly. "Do you think Mary will forget how he plagued her to accept the reformed religion? Will she not press him as hard to renounce reform and profess himself Catholic?"

  "From what I heard of Northumberland from Lady Denny," Denoriel said, "Northumberland cares very little about which rite he worships by. So why not become Catholic?"

  "I suspect Mary will require some more substantial evidence of his conversion than his simple word," Harry said dryly, "like the return to the Church of any lands he received in the dissolution of the monasteries."

  "Oh, my," Aleneil breathed.

  Harry nodded. "And he would be watched very keenly, indeed, for any slip for which he could be accused of treason. Oh, yes, for Mary to come to the throne would be ruin for Northumberland."

  "Nor is he such a man as Norfolk," Denoriel remarked, with a wry twist to his mouth. "Norfolk served Henry devotedly all his life—never mind that he profited greatly while he served—but only said when that ungrateful king condemned him to death that if his master wanted his life, that, too, he would give."

  "So what you are all saying is that Mary's life likely is being threatened." Rhoslyn sighed. "I will warn Susan Clarencieux and Jane Dormer. Among us we can make sure that no servant approaches her. And I can just touch the mind of any visitor, but what if I detect danger to her? I know well enough how to kill a man and one I can be rid of but not more."

  "No, indeed!" Harry exclaimed, pushing away his near empty plate. "If one man's heart gives out and he dies in Mary's presence, that is a tragic accident. If two or three suffer the same ending, someone will be called a witch."

  "Let us see what happens before we act," Pasgen said. "If worse comes to worst, Rhoslyn has a way to call me to her and I can take on the seeming of one of the guards. For a guard to kill any man who attacks Mary is an act of duty and heroism, and will not arouse suspicion or merit punishment."

  Denoriel had signaled for another glass of wine and the server came with refills for all the drinking vessels. He sipped and put down the cup. "Do you think Elizabeth is safe from Northumberland?" he asked Harry.

  Harry pursed his lips. "I wish I could be sure. On the one hand, he and Elizabeth have always got along well, and he has gone out of his way to please her—so much so that if you remember, there were rumors he intended to put his wife aside and marry Elizabeth."

  "I remember all too well," Denoriel said dryly.

  "That was never meant seriously," Rhoslyn said. "Well . . . if the idea had met an enthusiastic reception it might have become more serious. But Lady Catherine, who is Mary's woman at the Court, has heard him call Elizabeth a willful bitch."

  Denoriel uttered a brief snort of laughter. "And so she is."

  "Yes, but—" Harry's gesture cut off what Rhoslyn was about to say, "—that is why I am not certain of Northumberland's good will toward Elizabeth. With her advent he would not be ruined, but he would soon be powerless. He is devious and long-sighted and I am afraid he sees too clearly what Elizabeth is. Northumberland would not rule as he does now if Elizabeth were on the throne."

  "But there is no one else," Aleneil protested.

  "The duchess of Suffolk, Frances Brandon that was, is named in Henry's will and in the Act of Succession," Harry said. "She and her husband are both stupid beyond belief so Northumberland could twist them any way he liked."

  Pasgen slowly shook his head. "I know nothing about mortal affairs," he said, "but stupid people, even Sidhe, are often stubborn and even more often prideful. If your Northumberland is as clever as you say, he would not put on the throne stupid adults. A stupid child is something different; a child could be trained up in the pattern he wanted it to follow."

  Denoriel sighed heavily. "I hope you are right, Pasgen. Then I would have one less threat to Elizabeth to watch for." He grimaced. "And you are all sure that Vidal is not only free of the thinking Unformed land but again ruling Caer Mordwyn?"

  "Yes. And more than ruling it, rebuilding it." Pasgen's lips thinned. "He is also ruling much better than before he was made prisoner. His punishments are just as cruel and public, but they are much more rational. The Dark Court is quieter, but Vidal has found sufficient mischief for them to do that they are satisfied."

  "I do not like that, not at all," Aleneil said.

  "I cannot say I like it myself," Pasgen agreed. "I am sorry to say it, but I believe that Vidal is more in control of himself than he has been since he was damaged by Harry's metal shot."

  "I could attend a Dark Court and try to discover whether he has made plans against Elizabeth," Roslyn offered, but she did not look happy.

  "No!" Harry exclaimed. "That could be dangerous if Vidal suspects why you are there."

  Rhoslyn smiled at him and a faint flush colored her cheeks. "It would not be dangerous. I could say with perfect truth that Elizabeth is a danger to Mary—"

  "No!" Now it was Denoriel who protested. "Vidal hates Elizabeth enough. Let us not give him any real reason to urge him to do away with her."

  "And he might try to hold you Rhoslyn," Pasgen said with a worried frown. "I prefer not to come to an open confrontation with him. I was stronger than he when he fell into the mist's embrace, but from the work he has done on his domain, I am not so sure I am still the stronger."

  "Then let him be, Brother," Aleneil said. "For you to confront Vidal is a total loss to you, no matter who turns out to be stronger. If you lose . . ."

  "Likely I would be dead."

  "And Rhoslyn with you," Harry said bitterly, taking Rhoslyn's hand into his own.

  Aleneil nodded grimly. Neither she nor anyone else doubted that in any fatal confrontation Rhoslyn would be right beside her twin, supporting him to her last breath.

  "And if you win, you would be prince of Caer Mordwyn." Suddenly she laughed. "Which, from the expression on your face is to you a fate worse than death. It would be best, I think, if both you and Rhoslyn avoided Vidal as much as possible. I will speak to the other FarSeers and see if the great lens will tell us anything new."

  Chapter 3

  Elizabeth's visit Underhill at the end of February had had a pacifying effect on her, but not for very long. All through March she struggled with her fears, and in the first week in April she wrote again to Northumberland. This time she had a reply—from William Cecil but over Northumberland's signature—saying the roads were too dangerous, the weather too unsettled, her brother's health, although improving, still too uncertain, for a visit at this time. As soon as the situation improved, she would receive an invitation.

  She did not believe Edward's health was improving or in the forthcoming invitation, but the hope of one, of a sanctioned visit, held her quiet until the middle of May. Then Elizabeth became aware of the lovely spring England was enjoying. The weather was perfect, the roads in as good condition as one could desire. As for Edward's health, that was what she wished to establish.

  In the beginning of June, she told Denno flatly that she would set off for London in three days. If she was established at Somerset House, rumor of her residence would surely co
me to Edward; perhaps he would ask to see her. Even if he did not, she would know she had made the effort and he would know she had tried to come to him.

  Denoriel was not happy with her decision, but he knew when arguing was hopeless and only begged her to come Underhill again so Harry could give her the latest news. Harry was no happier with her decision. The rumor in Mary's household was that Edward was failing rapidly and Mary was clearly fearful that some attack would be made upon her.

  "It is foolish, Bess, to go to London. There is no way to secure Somerset house in the same way Hatfield can be secured. There Denno and your men know every person who lives in and around the neighborhood and strangers can be carefully watched."

  Elizabeth wrung her hands. "I know it. I know it, but I must go. I must try. I have nightmares that Edward is asking for me and being told that I do not care enough for him to see him in his time of need."

  Harry and Denoriel consulted each other in speaking glances but neither voiced any more reservations. For Elizabeth, her moods always strung so tightly, it was sometimes better to dare physical danger than to court safety at the price of guilt.

  "Then how should she go?" Denoriel asked Harry. "For a trip to London, Elizabeth could call in the country gentlemen from Ashridge and Enfield as well as Hatfield and have a small army to protect her. You remember that Pasgen told us Vidal is ruling Caer Mordwyn again. And the Dark Court is reveling in snatched humans, but so cleverly snatched by Vidal's planning that Oberon does not disapprove. A small army would be proof against any attack by Vidal."

  "No," Harry said, immediately. "Such a show of strength, and for no reason anyone in the mortal world would know, would be very provocative. God alone knows how Northumberland would react to Elizabeth appearing with hundreds of armed gentlemen. And it might not be wise to flaunt such strength in Mary's face either."

  Elizabeth bit her lip. "I am not so afraid of Vidal. I think he would not dare attack me or use monsters openly lest Oberon hear of his disobedience, but I am worried about Northumberland. I cannot understand why he opposes my coming to London. And if my appearance there would thwart some plan of his, how far would he go to stop me?"

  "If I knew the plan, I could answer better," Harry said, his mouth a thin line of dissatisfaction.

  "That we have no hint of it from Cecil worries me also," Elizabeth said. "He has always warned me of anything important."

  "I can only think he does not know," Denoriel said. "That he does not write at all, even common news, is a warning in itself. He knows that Northumberland is planning something, but he does not know what and does not want to hint lest he hint the wrong thing."

  Harry looked thoughtful. "Bess's question—how far would Northumberland go to stop her—is significant. If he is merely trying to keep her away from Edward, either because he does not want her to influence the king or because he wants to conceal how ill Edward truly is, he will not go too far. Likely you will have another message soon discouraging you from traveling."

  Elizabeth's jaw firmed. "I will not be discouraged. I will go to London." Then she bit her lip again. "Nonetheless, although I agree with Da that I dare not call up my tenants. I do not think I can travel with just Gerrit, Shaylor, Dickson, and Nyle."

  She cast a guilty glance at Denoriel. He had been urging her to pension off her old guardsmen, but she could not bring herself to cast them aside, to make them feel old and useless. And for such duties as guarding her doors in a residence they were perfect, knowing from long experience whom she would welcome, whom she would need warning was come, and whom she would not wish to see at all.

  "They are brave and steady and would die for me, I know, but," she admitted with a sigh, "they are growing old. They have all seen more than forty winters."

  "That is true enough," Denoriel agreed, smiling; he was well aware of Elizabeth's fierce loyalty to those who served her. "But you need not go with them alone. If they are well supported by younger guards they will do very well." He uttered a soft laugh. "And just in case the attack should come from Vidal, those four would not be surprised by anything from mouse-sized trolls to green giants. They have seen it all and fought it all already. And so have Ladbroke and Tolliver and Sandy Dunstan."

  "Of course," Elizabeth said, also smiling. "I had forgot them."

  Ladbroke and Dunstan, she thought, must be at least as old as the guardsmen, but they showed little sign of it. Elizabeth knew they had been snatched Underhill as children and returned to the mortal world when Denoriel needed servants with special skills to help protect Harry as a child. They had only dim memories of the world of the Sidhe and, in addition, like Elizabeth were bespelled to be incapable of speaking of the Sidhe or Underhill or magic or enchantment while in the mortal world. However the years spent Underhill had not added to their age, so they looked ten years younger than the guardsmen—and Tolliver, rescued as a young boy from abandonment in a churchyard, was actually more than ten years younger than the other men.

  "That makes seven who will be steady no matter what happens," Harry said. "I think with them as a strong core, a force of twenty all told would be large enough. I do not think Northumberland can possibly be desperate enough to order his men to fight yours and I agree that Vidal will chance no monsters in the mortal world, at least not yet. So another ten or thirteen who are young and strong and—" he grinned broadly "—already hard smitten by our Elizabeth's enchantment, and only a whole army will be able to endanger her."

  Elizabeth had taken warning from Harry's remark that she might receive another message from Northumberland forbidding her to come to London. Because she did not want to seem to defy him openly, she hurried along her preparations for leaving Hatfield. The servants, harried to make ready all that would be needed for a protracted stay at Somerset House and thinned in ranks because some had already been sent off to London, had neither time nor energy to walk down to the inn for gossip (and complaint) and an ale or two.

  If Vidal had had Sidhe spies in Hatfield town, they would have noticed the sudden absence of Elizabeth's servants from their usual haunts. However, he knew none of the Dark Sidhe would be willing to spend so much time in the mortal world, particularly at an inn where the cauldrons and spits for cooking and the frequent presence of Elizabeth's guardsmen in their armor and carrying weapons of steel, caused them constant pain. And the few werewolves and witches who could pass for human were too unstable. The presence of so many tasty and helpless mortals might draw them to attack. Therefore only imps watched and listened.

  The imps did not like the presence of so much iron either, but they had compensation in being allowed to pinch and trip and pull the hair of the inn's patrons and drink the spurts of power generated by the pain—at least now and again. Though they were invisible, too much mischief caused comment, and comment brought punishment from their master. To the imps, who were not too clever and only interested in mortals as objects of torment, the absence of Elizabeth's servants had no significance. It was only the very night before she left that several tired servants came to the inn and remarked on their hope for a good rest now that their mistress would actually take to the road the next morning.

  Vidal was angry, but he dared not punish the imps lest they try to disappear to avoid further duty. If they did that, he would have to destroy them as a lesson to the other imps, and Vidal had become chary of destroying his subjects since his return. His own tendency to destroy and his conflict with Pasgen had decimated his Court. As he could, he was creating more ogres and trolls and the witches and boggles, and some others were reproducing on their own, but he wanted more subjects not fewer.

  He Gated at once to London and some of his ill humor was dissipated when he found Albertus still awake, just returned from an evening entertainment. Albertus was startled and alarmed at the shortness of Vidal's notice, but he picked up the brooch that disguised him and went out again at once to the small set of rooms he rented on the respectable border of a dangerous slum. There beggar children were always available
for carrying messages and for mischief too. He sent one boy with a summons to Francis Howard-Mowbray's lodging and another to his favorite inn.

  The first boy came back with the note undelivered; Francis was not at home, but the other found him at the inn and actually brought him back to Albertus's lodging. Francis was not drunk; Albertus made a mental note that although Francis spent a lot of time in inns, he did not drink to excess. He was glad of that, partly because it made his hireling more reliable and partly because a drunken man was more prone to violence than a sober one—and Francis was enough prone to violence without drink.

  Francis was not pleased when Albertus told him to gather his men and get onto the road to Hatfield. But at least he did not need instructions and long explanations. Francis already knew what he was supposed to do and had actually scouted the road to find suitable spots to ambush Elizabeth's party.