Not long before Richard Verney passed through the gate at Hatfield, Denoriel learned the answer to Kat's question. He had returned from a third fruitless attempt to see William Cecil or his wife—but Mildred had gone to be with her father in the country—in a sour temper. It did not improve his mood to find a stranger seated in the entry hall with Cropper standing watchfully near the entrance to the kitchen.
"Yes, what is it?" Denoriel asked impatiently. "It was useless to wait for me. If my man of business cannot or will not accommodate you, neither can or will I."
Denoriel was badly out of temper and his voice was hard, but the man simply jumped to his feet with a pleased expression and bowed.
"I must speak to you, my lord, and alone."
"I just told you that I do little or no business and—"
"My name, my lord, is Henry Carey." The man paused as if he expected Denoriel to react; when he did not, he continued, "And I know you will want to hear the proposition I will make. Come, my lord, in private I will say two names to you. If you are not interested after hearing them, I will leave and trouble you no more."
Henry Carey. The name was familiar to Denoriel, something he had heard a long time ago, but he could recall nothing significant about it. He stared for a moment at the man's face. There was something there that was familiar too, possibly the shape of the large, dark eyes. No, it would not come to him.
"Very well," he said, "this way."
Cropper turned toward them and reached for his cudgel.
"I don't think that will be necessary," Denoriel said.
"He's armed, m'lord," Cropper pointed out, "and that sword looks like he knows how to use one."
So it did. There was a handsome jewel pommel at the top of the sword hilt, but the hilt itself was wrapped in worn, oiled leather that would not slip in a man's hand if he sweated . . . or bled. Before Denoriel could speak, Carey undid his sword belt and handed it to Cropper. Denoriel began to say, "That isn't necessary"; instead he only shook his head. It wasn't necessary, but it made it far more likely that what Carey had to say was important.
Without speaking again and signing Cropper to stay behind, Denoriel led the way into the private parlor beyond Clayborne's office. He left the door open as he entered, but Carey closed it carefully behind him.
"My mother was Mary Boleyn, Anne's elder sister," Carey said. "I am Lady Elizabeth's first cousin."
"Carey," Denoriel said, shaking his head over his faulty memory. "I knew the name was familiar, but—"
"I am not asking Lady Elizabeth to recognize me," Carey said hastily.
Denoriel shook his head again. "While her father was alive, she dared not remind him of her mother, but if you care to visit her, I am sure she would be most happy to receive you. I will take you to Hatfield myself. No one cares about Ann Boleyn now."
"The Lady Mary cares," Carey said stiffly. "She told the king I was a whore's son when I applied for a place at Court and saw that I did not get it."
"That is not at all like Lady Mary." Denoriel said, surprised then frowning, but then he sighed. "But if she still holds such a bitter grudge, it will make the path for Elizabeth even harder."
"We will have much ado to keep Lady Elizabeth's head on her shoulders."
"We?" Denoriel repeated.
Carey blushed. "I do not mean to enlarge myself to such great importance, but I am acting for Master William Cecil, who heard of my disappointment and engaged me as an assistant."
Denoriel laughed. "Is there anything of which Master Cecil does not hear?"
"The thing I have come to tell you, he almost heard too late. Possibly it is already too late."
"Speak."
"The duke of Northumberland has extracted from the king—although he says it is the king's own device—a declaration that since both his sisters were illegitimate, they must be debarred from the throne. Instead he has named the male heirs of the daughters of Frances Brandon—at least that was the device that was shown to Master Cecil first. When it became clear that the king was in extremis and he could never live to see male heirs of either of the girls, who were hastily married a few weeks ago, the device was altered and Lady Jane Grey, Frances Brandon's eldest daughter, was named in particular."
For a long moment Denoriel simply stared at Carey. "That is mad," he said at last. "How can he hope . . ." He shook his head and then waved a hand at the chairs on either side of the hearth. "Sit, please. Would you like some wine?"
"Nothing, thank you," Carey said as he sat down. "How can Northumberland hope to put Lady Jane on the throne? By fear. He does command the armed troops in London and the entire Council has signed the device."
Denoriel took the other chair, still staring at Carey, then he took a deep breath and put a hand across his eyes "So that was why he was trying to have Mary killed. I thought he wanted to elevate Elizabeth but she could see only disaster from such a plan. It did puzzle me why he kept warning Lady Elizabeth away from London. I suppose he feared she would hear of his true plans. How come Cecil did not warn us?"
"Northumberland trusts him . . . but not with regard to Lady Elizabeth. Cecil's appointment as surveyor of her lands is known and he was instrumental in the exchange of Hatfield for the northern property. Any messenger Cecil sent would have been scrutinized—and he did not learn of this 'devise' himself until yesterday when it was brought to him to sign."
"He signed?"
"As witness only."
"Now I begin to wonder whether that attempt to take Elizabeth prisoner—"
"Did he seize Lady Elizabeth? We must save her at once!"
"No, the attempt did not succeed. She is safe in Hatfield." Denoriel had slumped back in his chair, but he abruptly sat hard upright. "You say it is known at Court that the king is dying? Merciful Mother, I hope Lady Elizabeth is safe! If someone sent her word . . . or if Northumberland himself sent word that her brother was dying . . ." He stood up. "She always cared deeply for King Edward. I hope she did not fall into any snare of Northumberland's and set off to see Edward before his death."
"She must not!" Carey exclaimed, also on his feet. "Cecil believes the duke wants to hold Elizabeth in case there is too much turmoil over enthroning Lady Jane. If there is, perhaps Jane will have an accident or some fault will be found in her heritage, and Lady Elizabeth can be produced. But if Lady Jane's rule is accepted, Elizabeth will die."
Denoriel nodded. "I am leaving for Hatfield at once. Do you want to come with me?"
The moment the words were out, Denoriel could have bit out his tongue. He could not spare the time to ride at a horse's pace to Hatfield and it would be impossible to conceal Miralys's rapid arrival there from a fellow rider. Fortunately, however, Carey shook his head.
"No, Master Cecil says the less I am known to be related to Lady Elizabeth the more use I will be to her. Carey is not an uncommon name. I will leave here carrying a basket of wine samples for my master to choose from. Everyone knows that business is done with Master Clayborne so there will be no particular reason to connect me with you and from that with Lady Elizabeth. I have also arranged for watchers to warn me if any large group of men sets out toward Hatfield."
"Good. Then I leave you to collect your wines. If you want to meet in a less well-known place, only leave the time and direction with Master Clayborne. I will try to see him every morning to receive your message or leave a message for you."
Miralys left the stable behind the house on Bucklersbury at a dangerously fast pace. Out of sight of the house, the elvensteed darted into a dark, narrow alley . . . and never came out. In less than a quarter candlemark, Denoriel was pounding on the gate of Hatfield with the hilt of his sword.
The lookout called that it was Lord Denno and he was alone. The guards below opened the gate. By the time he was within, Denoriel realized that Hatfield was calm, there was no bustle of impending departure or the reorganization of a diminished household after a departure. He turned Miralys toward the stables, dismounting and handing his reins to Ladbroke who met him before he needed to turn off the path to the house.
"All peaceful?" Denoriel asked.
"There was a messenger from London, but Sir Edward didn't let the man out of his sight and put him out as soon as the message was delivered. Peaceful enough for us. Not sure, m'lord it will be so peaceful for you."
Denoriel sighed and started toward the house. He was not surprised when Kat came to lead him quickly from the reception room into Elizabeth's bedchamber. Elizabeth did not take well to enforced idleness. She would have been fretting over her virtual imprisonment, over not being able to ride out to divert herself, and over his absence. The message—Denoriel was virtually certain it was Northumberland's trap invitation to come to Court, which Elizabeth apparently did know she had to refuse since she had not prepared to leave for London—would have made her even more fretful. What he had to tell her, atop the other irritations, would throw her into a rage.
Only it did not. True, they had first to get past Elizabeth's angry accusations of being neglected. To those, Denoriel made so sharp a response that he surprised and shocked Kat. Denoriel was usually careful to keep a respectful and subservient manner when in the mortal world, but Kat's distress allowed Aleneil to offer a soothing reminder of Denno's long privilege and draw Kat away to the other end of the room. Most often Kat was blind to the true relationship between Elizabeth and Denno but that exchange had been revealingly intimate.
Slightly shamefaced over Denoriel's rebuke, Elizabeth told him about the message from Northumberland, shedding a few tears over the confirmation that Edward was beyond hope.
"Are you sure it would be so dangerous for me to go to him?" she asked piteously. "Even if he could not speak, I could hold his hand. He could feel there was someone with him who cared for him, not for his crown."
"More dangerous than you know," Denoriel responded, and told her everything Carey had told him, including the conclusion that Northumberland wished to hold her a prisoner to be used if needed and sacrificed otherwise.
Denoriel expected a burst of rage, but Elizabeth listened in silence, all the while rubbing her hands over her arms as if to warm them, though her bedchamber was almost too warm. Then she said, "How badly does he want me? Is it safe to stay here? Should I remove to Donnington, which is a truly defensible castle?"
"Not yet. You must seem to be innocent and ignorant and too ill to leave your bed. We will have time enough to get you safe to Donnington if any force is directed against you. Your cousin Carey has watchers to warn us if armsmen march this way."
"My cousin Carey." Elizabeth smiled slightly and her eyes lightened. "I never met him but I look forward to it."
"Yes, yes, it is very nice to have a family . . . well, sometimes it is nice. If the family is not too greedy. But what do you think we should do about Northumberland's attempt to establish Lady Jane on the throne? Cecil seems helpless and since Denny died I really do not have any influential friends . . ."
Elizabeth shivered. "We should do nothing. Oh, poor Jane. It is true I never liked her very much. She was always too meek and colorless for my taste but this . . ."
"Elizabeth! This poor Jane may soon be sitting on the throne and calling for your execution!"
"No," Elizabeth whispered, "Mary will do that." She shivered again, then shook her head briskly. "Jane . . . no, the people will never accept Jane. Northumberland does not understand. He can force his Council to obey him and make them sign his decrees, but the people, they love Mary and me too, a little. Even my father had to change his path when the country people, the squires and their tenants, were aroused. They will support Mary. You will see. Northumberland cannot prevent Mary from coming to the throne."
Denoriel opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had come prepared to soothe Elizabeth's hysterical reaction to the attempt to shunt Mary and herself aside, but she was calm, her eyes narrowed somewhat in thought. Like her father, Elizabeth seemed to know by instinct how the common people would respond and to know, too, how to engage their sympathy.
"Mary will be dead and buried if Northumberland lays his hands upon her!" he said at last.
Elizabeth started at the harsh tone. "Oh heaven! She might have been taken in by Northumberland's letter. She cared for Edward too, and would consider it her duty to attend his deathbed. She might even dream of saving him from hell in a last-minute conversion. No, Northumberland must not capture her. Cannot you get word to Rhoslyn (that name was common enough for her to say; she did not attempt Pasgen) of what Master Carey told you?"
"I will send a messenger," he said, looking up to where the air spirit flitted above, sometimes settling on a curtain or on a piece of furniture, sometimes engaging in dizzying gyrations.
The messenger to Rhoslyn, although its path through Underhill was far swifter than any bird's flight, would never have arrived in time. However, Lady Mary had a better informed partisan with far greater resources than the limited help Denoriel and Aleneil could look for from the Bright Court.
Vidal Dhu had learned of Northumberland's device two weeks before Carey brought the news to Denoriel. Chancellor Rich, greatly troubled when the scheme was first suggested to him, had stared down into the flickering light in his yellow diamond ring. He had no desire at all to resist the will of Northumberland, but he also had no desire to be caught in a treasonous plot and have Lady Mary calling for his execution. He needed to know the future and was suddenly sure who could read it for him.
Accordingly Rich dispatched a messenger to the house of Fagildo Otstargi demanding an urgent meeting. The message came to Albertus, who recognized the name at once and Gated to Caer Mordwyn. He told Vidal that the king's condition was unchanged, a week or two, if so long, remained of life. Even he did not pretend to Northumberland that Edward could live, and gave his reason for continuing to attend the dying king only to give Edward what ease could be found in drugged sleep.
"Good enough," Vidal said. "Be sure you are available to me after I have spoken with Chancellor Rich. I may need Howard-Mowbray and his men. And they had better be more successful in this second task than in the first."
But Vidal was only mildly annoyed at Howard-Mowbray's failure to capture or kill Elizabeth. She had been traveling before the full troop was assembled; Howard-Mowbray had warned Albertus that he did not yet have enough men. Vidal had learned patience from the self-aware mist; he had not exercised that patience in bidding Albertus set the ambush and had lost his prize.
Worse, the attack had given that prize warning. Vidal had heard how Hatfield was shut and guarded. Even deliveries of food stopped at the gate and were brought to the house by Elizabeth's own servants. Vidal remembered four years of fighting against bonds he could not loose . . . until he stopped fighting. Now he withdrew all but the imps that infested the alehouse. They would tell him if the vigilance around Elizabeth decreased or if she left her haven. Until then, he would make no attempts on her. Let her confidence return and make her careless.
Three days later Vidal Gated to Otstargi's house, assumed the charlatan's features, and was waiting for Rich with an intense frown on his face. The frown, he was sure, would be appropriate because Rich would not have been in a panic demanding a meeting for good news.
Rich stopped just inside the doorway and groaned, "Oh, I knew this scheme would never work."
"As you know it, it will not," Vidal replied, having no idea what the scheme was but assuming from his client's nervousness that it was elaborate and risky. "However, if you will tell me all the details, all the small things that are planned, perhaps I can see a solution . . . or a way out."
When Rich began with Northumberland's plan for Lady Mary to be taken and sent to her uncle, Emperor Charles, Vidal uttered a hard laugh. "You know and I know that cannot be true. To have Lady Mary in the Emperor's hand is to invite an invasion by Spain. Here it is safe to say what you know must be the truth, that Lady Mary must have a fatal accident."
Rich made a few gabbled protests but then shrugged and admitted so much, saying it could be blamed on Lady Elizabeth, who would also be taken prisoner. But she was to be held safely for a few months, until Queen Jane was accepted by all. "And then Queen Jane would find her guilty of some treason . . ."
For a moment Vidal looked interested and murmured "Ah . . ." but in the next he shook his head. Elizabeth's execution could come only after Mary's death, and that was a price Vidal was not willing to pay. Mary would be just as willing to execute Elizabeth as Jane. And the people—idiots that they were to care who they worshiped and how—would be far more miserable under Mary's rule, so that the Dark Court would wallow in the power of pain.
Vidal did not interrupt Rich again, simply keeping his head bent, his eyes on his hands and shaking his head until Rich faltered into silence. Then he looked up. "I will offer you a chance at a way out." he said. "There is no way to accomplish Northumberland's purpose. Mary will be the next queen."
"But Northumberland has an army at his command. And he is sure that the ladies will come willingly into his hand when he bids them come to say fare well to their dying brother. Both Lady Mary and Lady Elizabeth are very fond of King Edward."
"I think the duke has not taken into account the anxiety and suspicion of the ladies. And I cannot tell you why his plan will fail, only that Mary will reign as queen."
"How can you know that?"
Vidal laughed. "I have known that since Edward was crowned. When Great Harry died, I looked into the future. I saw that the young king's reign would be short—"
"To look into the future of the king, that was treason," Rich muttered and then, "Why did you not tell me?"
Vidal laughed again. "Because it was treason. And what you and Northumberland are doing is treason. Mary is her father's daughter. She will not forget your betrayal."
Rich turned an ugly shade of yellow. "You said there was a chance for me, a way out."
"Only if you make your peace with Lady Mary. Northumberland is lost—not that you will miss him. You will do much better without him. But Mary must be convinced that you truly favor her and that much of your reason for obeying Northumberland was that you saw it as the only way to be able to warn her of Northumberland's plans. You must send her a warning that the invitation to her brother's deathbed is a trap and that she should take herself to a defensible castle, declare herself queen, and call in her tenants to support her."
"How?" Rich gasped. "I cannot warn her without Northumberland knowing I have betrayed him."
Vidal looked speculatively at Rich, wondering if now was a good time to rid himself of this henchman. After a moment he decided that Rich could still be useful. Chancellor was a powerful position and Rich was very easy to manipulate.
"Surely there are others, others whom the duke will suspect before he thinks of you. Are there not any who have been taken back into favor since the king fell ill? Those, I am sure, strive to discover any action Northumberland plans. One among them at least should be willing to believe you his friend or that you are more his friend than Northumberland. Send that man to Lady Mary to warn her in your name."
"And what if he goes to Northumberland instead?"
"Then you ride to Lady Mary yourself. I tell you, she will be queen. She will be queen no matter what you do or do not do. I am not telling you to go to her for her sake but because you asked me for a chance to save yourself when Northumberland's plans fail."
That was a flat lie. Vidal had no more certainty about the future than Rich did. The pale Sidhe in the tower could only tell him that the vision of Edward as king was gone, but three futures still showed in the dark pool—a thin, pale girl wearing a crown and weeping; Mary presiding over the burning of what she called heretics; and Elizabeth in the midst of joyous multitudes.
However, Vidal was a lot more certain of Mary coming to the throne since Rich had exposed Northumberland's secrets to him. When he finally rid himself of Rich, who had wasted another half a candlemark begging for a second or third way to escape ruin without betraying Northumberland—information Vidal would not have given him even if he had it—Vidal Gated back to Caer Mordwyn. From there he captured an imp to order Rhoslyn to come to him. He was taking no chances on Rich's wavering; he would warn Rhoslyn about the danger to Mary himself.
The creature squalled when Vidal drew it from a crowd of like creatures and squalled again as he pressed into its mind his memory of the essence of Rhoslyn. By the time he was finished impressing upon it where to find her in the mortal world and then his need for her to come to Caer Mordwyn as quickly as possible, the ugly little thing had no strength to squall. It could utter no more than a pathetic whimper when he released it.
Aurilia had come to watch Vidal work, and she enjoyed it heartily, but when Vidal was about to order the imp to go, she said, "If you send it out as it is, it will take a week to find Rhoslyn. Give it some power and a touch of reward."
"You are right," Vidal agreed easily.
She was, and he did as she suggested. He noticed with some pleasure that Aurilia glanced at him sidelong, made uneasy by his good humor. The imp, renewed, circled twice around Vidal's chamber and bedewed the carpet with excrement. Vidal's lips thinned; he hissed rage and raised his hand to extinguish the creature altogether, but Aurilia, more secure now that his temper showed, laid her hand over his.
"Do not waste the effort you made to catch it and imprint your message," she said, and gestured at the stain which disappeared. "What do you want with Rhoslyn? What she knows, Pasgen will soon know. Do not trust the break between them."
The warning annoyed Vidal, who knew Aurilia read people better than he did but did not like to be reminded. And despite her apparent satisfaction with handing his power back to him, he did not trust her. Also in the past she had known little and cared less about the mortal world. That, too, had changed during the years that he had been in the mad mist's thrall, and he was not certain why. For a moment he felt reluctant to tell Aurilia anything. Still, she said she had remembered that Mary must come to the throne, and she had tried to move toward that goal.
She had sent Albertus to "help" the physicians trying to save Edward so that he could bring her news of the Court and in case Edward's doctors should happen on some treatment that would prolong the boy's life to circumvent them. Albertus could have finished the boy off if he lingered too long. That no longer seemed a problem, Edward was dying, but Vidal was glad Albertus was established at Court. He might yet have uses for him.
Better to tell her what she wanted to know, Vidal thought. What Aurilia had done thus far had been clever and was useful. If she were ignorant their purposes might cross.
"I do not care if Rhoslyn tells Pasgen this," Vidal said. "Pasgen could not care less what happens in the mortal world. I need to warn Rhoslyn that Mary is in grave danger," and then he unfolded the entire plot that Rich had described.
"So Jane Grey is the name of the pale girl with the crown that the FarSeers keep mentioning," Aurilia mused. "And Northumberland is trying to enthrone her instead of Mary. But if this is likely to cause civil war, why should we interfere?"
"Civil war would be welcome," Vidal said, grinning. "I am not trying to foil Northumberland's plan to crown Jane. I only want to keep Mary safe, for it is in her reign that the people's misery will furnish us in the Dark Court with a rich feast."