Chantress Fury (3 page)

CHAPTER FOUR

TRUTH OUTS

Behind me, I heard the fire crackle. Coal fell through the grate. When I looked up, Sybil and Norrie were still staring at me.

“Nat didn’t do anything dreadful,” I told them. “That’s the truth, I promise you. But it was his idea that we part ways, not mine. He told me not to write to him, and he asked me to keep away when he came to Court.”

Sybil looked taken aback. “I don’t understand.”

Norrie looked as flummoxed as Sybil. “Why would Nat do that?”

It would all have to come out now, I thought wearily. There was no getting around it. “Because he thought he didn’t have the standing to court me. To do that, he said he needed to prove he could stand on his own two feet, and he couldn’t do that while I was around. People would think I was propping him up.”

“He wants to court you?” Sybil squeaked.

“He did a year and a half ago,” I said carefully. “Of course, I don’t know how he feels now—”

“He wants to court you,” Sybil repeated, eyes shining.

Norrie was more circumspect, but I saw the tension ease out of her wrinkled face. “So that’s what happened between you.” She shook her head. “But where Nat got the idea he couldn’t stand on his own two feet already, I don’t know. A more capable young man I’ve never met.”

I kept quiet. Twenty months ago, I’d argued the same point with Nat myself and had gotten nowhere. And I saw no need to expose to anyone—even someone as close as Norrie—how desperate Nat had felt, or to remind them of just how low his standing had been at Court back then.

But Sybil, wise in the ways of Court politics, hadn’t forgotten. “Capable he certainly is,” she agreed. “But that isn’t the point, Norrie dear. It’s true. He didn’t have much standing at Court back then, or any real power. And you know how people here can be. They would’ve called him the Chantress’s lackey—or worse.”

Just hearing her say the words made me realize how bad it would’ve been. For myself, I could have endured it, for the sake of being with Nat. But his sacrifice would have been much greater. No one would have respected him. Small wonder he’d balked.

“Yes, I can see his dilemma.” Sybil’s eyes were full of concern as she turned to me. “But I still think he asked a lot, expecting you to pretend that you’d gone your separate ways.”

“He didn’t ask that in so many words,” I admitted. “He said only that he needed to do everything on his own. But once I had time to think, I realized what I had to do. It wasn’t enough for me not to interfere on his behalf, you see. I had to make it clear that I didn’t
want
to interfere, that I had no interest whatsoever in his affairs, that he meant nothing to me.”

“Was that really necessary, child?” Norrie asked.

“Yes.” I was sure of it. “Otherwise half the Court would think I was pulling strings for him behind the scenes.”

“I hate to say it, but you’re right,” Sybil said. “They probably
would
think that, the toads. You ought to have told us, though. We could have helped you.”

I shook my head. As much as I loved them both, it had been too great a secret to share, especially since discretion was not Sybil’s strongest suit. Perhaps that was changing, now that she was Queen, but I’d thought it too risky to tell her—or anyone in her circle, including Norrie.

“It was simplest just to tell everyone we’d argued and there was nothing between us anymore,” I said. “That way no one could accuse Nat of prospering because he was in my favor.”

“And no one would give him assistance merely to get close to you,” Sybil said, working it all out. “So Nat is standing on his own two feet, just as he wanted to.” She looked at me admiringly. “What a clever plan.”

“Not clever.” It had cost me too dearly for that. “Merely desperate. But it seems to have worked. And Nat never objected to it.”

At first I’d been afraid that I wouldn’t be able to maintain the masquerade in his presence—that some unguarded look of mine would give us away to everyone. Yet it had never come to that. On the rare occasions when I’d been called to Court, I’d inevi­tably found that Nat had left before I’d arrived. I, in turn, had been careful to be gone before he came back. Only once had I been caught out, and then I’d pretended to be ill, staying in my room until he was gone again.

Although we never saw each other, it seemed we were in silent agreement. We were playing the same game, by the same rules.

At least I hoped we were. The problem with a game like this, however, was that you couldn’t be absolutely certain what the other player was thinking. And there was always the chance that the game would finish in stalemate, with everyone walking away from the board.

Norrie’s look of quiet sympathy almost undid me. She patted my hand. “Why, you’re as cold as anything, child.”

Sybil put her arm around me. “Cold? We can’t have that.”

While Norrie poked some life into the fire, Sybil sat me down in one of the high-backed chairs arranged before the hearth. Silk sleeves rustling, she picked up a fat silver pot that had been swaddled to keep it warm. “Chocolate. That’s what you need.”

After frothing up the drink, she passed the rich brew to me. Warming my hands around the cup, I felt obscurely comforted.

Sybil sat and sipped at her own chocolate. “What I don’t understand,” she said meditatively, “is why you and Nat are still apart.”

I set my cup down with a clatter. “But I’ve just told you—”

“You’ve told us that you kept away from Nat so he could prove himself,” Sybil said. “And very noble it was of you too. But he
has
proven himself, Lucy. The two of you never cross paths, so maybe you don’t know, but you should see what it’s like when he comes to Court now. Everyone in London shows him honor and respect.”

Norrie nodded. “They know he’s the man who saved us from famine—first with potatoes and then with that new strain of wheat last year.”

“And he has a reputation as an excellent negotiator,” Sybil said. “Henry says he can be trusted with anything. ‘My right-hand man,’ he calls him.”

“But that’s just the King,” I objected.

“ ‘Just the King,’ ” Sybil repeated, dimples showing. “Lucy, do you have any idea how many people yearn for Henry’s favor? And how much prestige there is in having it? You should see how people fawn over Nat now.”

I’d noticed that people said his name differently, but Sybil was right. I hadn’t grasped quite how much his position had changed. “They fawn? Really?”

“Yes. You can see he doesn’t care for it, so the sensible ones don’t. But the rest do. Everyone at Court knows his worth now.” Sybil gave me a sideways look over her cup of chocolate. “Including the ladies.”

“The ladies?”

“Clemence isn’t the only one who swoons at the sight of him,” Sybil said. “Though she’s probably the nicest.”

This didn’t exactly comfort me.

“He’s considered one of the most eligible men in the kingdom.” Sybil spoke dispassionately, as if she were assessing the prospects of a stranger. “He doesn’t come from great wealth, of course, but because of his position at Court, people are certain he’ll rise. And now that he’s become Lord Walbrook—even if Henry did have to twist his arm to accept the title—many families are willing to overlook the facts of his birth.”

“Oh, they are, are they?” How very magnanimous, after all the times they’d sneered at him for not knowing who his parents were. “The beasts.”

Sybil’s dimples showed again. “My point is that Nat’s done what he set out to do: He’s made a place for himself. There’s nothing to stand between you anymore.”

“And no earthly reason at all,” said Norrie, “that the pair of you should keep avoiding each other.”

Sybil nodded. “I couldn’t have put it better myself. You’ve both waited long enough. You just need a chance to talk to each other, and it will all come right.”

I traced the rim of my cup. I dearly wanted to walk into the picture they were painting, where the waiting and the longing and the anguish were over. But so much still seemed to stand in the way.

“He’s coming back to London now,” I told them. “For the opening. The King told me today.”

Sybil looked ready to cheer. “Wonderful! This time you must stay and wait for him. Promise me you will.”

“He hasn’t said he wants to see me,” I pointed out. “He hasn’t written.”

“Maybe he thinks you’ve changed your mind,” Sybil said.

My worst fear raised its ugly head. “What if he’s changed
his
mind?”

“Then you’ll find out.” It was Norrie who spoke this time, in her briskest voice. “Best you know now, rather than sit around for years waiting.”

“Yes,” said Sybil. “You really must speak to him. I think—”

A cry from beyond the door interrupted us. “The Chantress! I need the Chantress!”

I rose from my chair, Sybil and Norrie close behind me. But before I could reach the door, Lord Gabriel raced through it.

His breath came in great gasps, as if he had been running hard, and his polished boots and immaculately tailored coat and breeches were spattered with rain. “The King needs you, Chantress. You must come at once.”

“The King?” Sybil’s hand flew to her heart. “Is he hurt?”

“No, no. Nothing of the sort,” Gabriel assured her, bowing to her with all his hallmark charm. “He just needs the Chantress. I can’t say more, I’m afraid. Chantress, will you come? His message asks that you sail to Greenwich Palace to meet him.”

“Of course.” Greenwich was where he’d planned to see the Lord High Admiral; it was a good five miles downriver from Whitehall. I turned to Norrie and Sybil. “I’m sorry, but I must go.”

Norrie was used to quick good-byes. She let me go with a word of caution and a hug. Sybil’s leave-taking was more restrained. She wanted to come with us; I saw it in her face. But it was all too plain that the summons hadn’t included her.

Instead of protesting, she became quiet and remote. As Gabriel and I left, she took her place again among her ladies-in-waiting. When I glanced back, her beautiful face had become a tense mask, and the distance between us yawned.

CHAPTER FIVE

DARK DEEDS

An hour later, I still hadn’t reached the King’s side, though not for want of trying. Instead I stood on the dimly lit deck of a small pinnace, knees braced against the dark slap of the waves, listening hard to the music of the river and the patchy mist around me.

Now and again, I’d used magic to speed the journey, singing us through the rapids at London Bridge and urging the currents to flow in our favor. Whenever the mist grew too thick, I cleared it so that the rising moon could light our way. So far, however, I hadn’t resorted to the more powerful music that would send us hurtling toward Greenwich at a truly miraculous rate. That was a demanding magic, and since I didn’t know what I would face at the end of our journey, I wanted to conserve my energies.

Behind me, voices rose and broke my concentration. I glanced back and saw that Gabriel was talking with Sir Barnaby Gadding.

“I tell you, I know no more about it than you do.” It was Gabriel speaking, with a slight edge to his suave voice. “The summons reached Whitehall as I was coming in, and it was in the King’s own hand. He wanted the Chantress and his chief councilors to meet him at Greenwich, to aid him in a matter of great urgency. He said nothing more.”

“Chief councilors, eh?” Sir Barnaby tapped his fine ivory cane against the deck. Head of the King’s Council, he had been at death’s door not all that long ago, and he was continually plagued by gout. But you would never have guessed that from the dapper figure he cut on deck. “And yet you came too?”

“I wanted to be of help, Sir Barnaby.” Gabriel’s reply was mild, but the edge was still there. “And the Chantress asked me to come.”

That wasn’t how I remembered it. Instead it had been Gabriel who’d suggested he escort me onto the waiting pinnace. But I wasn’t going to correct his version of events. The newest member of the Council, he already had problems enough with old-timers like Sir Barnaby. They couldn’t forgive him for either his present liberties or his past mistakes.

As far as I was concerned, however, liberties were just part of Gabriel’s nature. Take the habit he used to have of proposing every time he saw me. Whenever I refused him, he’d merely laugh and kiss my hand, then try again next time. It was a habit he had with other women as well, I suspected, for no one enjoyed flirtation more than Gabriel did. When his courtship had finally ended, just as amiably as it had begun, I’d been relieved but also surprised.

When he wasn’t playing the suitor, Gabriel could be quite good company. Not that Sir Barnaby saw it that way. As he and Gabriel continued to wrangle, I moved up to the bow and trained my attention on the river again. Nothing had changed, except that the mist was dissipating; all was just as it should be.

I found my thoughts returning to Nat.
He’ll be here soon
, I told myself.
You need to decide what to do
. Perhaps Sybil and Norrie were right. Perhaps it was time I stood my ground and learned what Nat truly thought of me. Yet I loathed the thought of having to play out our drama while the entire Court watched. Because they would be watching, of that I could be sure.

“Ah, there you are.” Holding fast to his floppy cap, Cornelius Penebrygg came up beside me. The mist had given a sheen to his spectacles and his thick silver beard. “You look worried, my dear. Is everything all right?”

“Yes. Quite all right.” The oldest of the King’s councilors, Penebrygg was also my good friend. Nat was like a son to him, and I knew that our seeming estrangement worried him. That was reason enough not to bother him with my troubles. “I just wish I knew what was in store for us at Greenwich.”

Penebrygg nodded, still clutching his cap. “As do I. But we will be there before long. This is the last bend.”

He was right. The breeze picked up, clearing away all but a last few threads of mist. Soon the brick turrets of Greenwich Palace, lit up by smoldering torches, came into sight. It took me a few seconds longer to notice the ship that was anchored just beyond the palace landing.

“What’s that?” Sir Barnaby demanded, coming up behind me and pointing at the vessel. Only a few glimmers of light punctuated its long, dark lines.

As Penebrygg fumbled with his spectacles, Gabriel said with assurance, “A frigate, by the looks of it. Twenty guns, I’d say—and one of ours. But odd that it’s anchored here, right by the palace.”

As our pinnace came up to the landing, a detachment of guards emerged from the palace to meet us. Instead of allowing us to disembark, their leader asked who we were, then gestured toward the shadowy ship. “The King is waiting for you on the
Dorset
.”

“What’s all this about, then?” Sir Barnaby barked at him.

“Couldn’t say,” the guard replied. “The
Dorset
’s just come over from Holland. That’s all I know. But whatever it is, His Majesty wants to see you right away.”

As we came alongside the
Dorset
, the glimmers of light were revealed as lanterns, with more being lit as we approached. Beneath one of them we saw men huddled on the deck. The crew, I supposed. But when Gabriel hailed them, the first man to break away from the circle turned out to be the King himself.

He came striding over to the rail. “You’re here at last!”

We greeted him in turn, but my voice almost failed me. The other men in the circle were now coming over to us—and one of them was Nat.

For more than a year, I’d pretended that he meant nothing to me. Now, in the half dark of this moonlit night, I stopped acting a part. I was simply myself, hungry for the sight of him.

The King’s right-hand man, Sybil had called him, and he looked it. He’d always had a quiet strength about him, but now that strength was in the open. Tall and sure and capable, he came toward me, and what I saw in his face made my heart hammer like a drum . . .

But then I caught sight of what had been at the center of the men’s circle, and my heart nearly stopped altogether. It was an enormous barrel, stood on its end. Just visible inside it was a woman, and she was gagged.

Seeing her, I felt sick. Gags and muzzles and scold’s bridles—until the King had come to the throne, these had all been common ways of stopping a woman’s tongue. Especially a Chantress’s tongue. My own godmother had been gagged before she’d been killed, and the memory filled me with horror.

“What’s going on here?” My voice was shaking with anger. “You’re gagging women and putting them in barrels?”

I could’ve asked the question of any of them. But it was Nat I was looking at.

Even in the dim light I saw his face change. When he answered, his voice was guarded, almost steely. “She isn’t a woman, Chantress. She’s a mermaid. And she’s gagged because she tried to kill us.”