Shades of Red (23 page)

After shooing the still-weeping Jacqueline out the rear stable door, Darrell dashed back to the window. Norfolk had vanished from sight, but behind the newly erected executioner's block, she confirmed what she had seen but not told Jacqueline: a swirl of scarlet robe.

Delaney at her heels, she hurried as fast as the awkward wooden foot would allow across the open Green towards the Chapel of St. Peter. She had just reached the site of the scaffold when a hand shot out from behind the wooden framework and clutched her arm in its iron grip.

Delaney growled at the liveried soldier who held Darrell pinned tightly in his grasp. The soldier swung a heavily booted foot at the dog, and Delaney backed away a few feet, his teeth bared.

“One of the queen's ladies, is it not?” The oily tones of a voice that could only belong to Norfolk whispered out of the shadows. The duke stepped forward into the setting rays of the sun. “To where do you hurry on this clear spring evening? Shouldn't you be with your queen at the occasion of her final sunset?”

Darrell wrenched her arm out of the soldier's grip. “How can you speak that way? Anne is your own niece — your brother's daughter. Have you no pity for her?”

The duke laughed. “My dear niece has outlasted her usefulness. You may be interested to know that just moments ago she was condemned to death. On the morrow, her head will rest easy on a soft cushion, courtesy of a fine swordsman's blade.” He smiled. “In her extremity, it is my fondest wish that her loyal ladies accompany Anne on her final journey.”

Darrell glanced over the duke's shoulder, judging the distance she would have to sprint to reach the small shed behind the chapel. The distance seemed impossibly large — not exactly the convenient escape route she had described to Jacqueline. And where was Delaney?

“I — I am but a visitor to the queen on her final day,” she said, stalling. Where had the dog gone? “Anne's ladies are loyal first to King Henry — surely you know that, your Grace? They carefully copy her every word for use at the trial.”

“It was I who presided at her final trial, goose,” he spat. “'Twas I who read the words written by her ladies. But it is not of those ladies I speak. The Frenchwoman — Jacqueline is her name? Originally from that harridan Claude's court, if I am not mistaken. Yes, I do believe that Anne should have company on her final walk, and you two ladies, true to the last, should meet your ends
with the fallen witch. Take away this slime,” he snarled. “And I've seen the other one making eyes at the guard at Traitor's Gate. Ensure you take both the woman and the guard to meet their just ends.”

The soldier's glove closed around Darrell's shoulder once more, and the walking stick was wrenched from her hand. Panic rose in her throat. Delaney? She struggled against the soldier, landing a decent kick to his shin with her wooden foot. He reached around and lifted her bodily off the ground.

As soon as he could see Darrell was no longer a threat, the Duke of Norfolk stepped close to the soldier. “Take her to the Garden Tower,” he hissed. “And she may await the morrow with the French woman and her gate guard.”

“A word in your ear, your Grace.” A quiet, somehow familiar voice carried over the sound of Darrell's struggle with the guard. She looked over and gaped. The scarlet-cloaked figure stood in the shadows of the wooden scaffolding, the wagging tail of a dog just visible behind the heavy woollen robes.

The last ray of the setting sun glanced off a weighty gold chain around the priest's surplice, and Darrell found herself temporarily blinded by the searing glare.

“Allow me to take your prisoner for a final word of comfort. You have my word that she will meet due justice.”

Norfolk spluttered a little. “But
Monsignore
— you would not deny this supporter of the traitor queen her just reward?”

“Not at all.” The voice was calm and very cool to the duke. “No more than you would question my authority to give this poor soul her last rites?”

The duke shrugged, acquiescing with thinly disguised disgust. “If I have your word,
Monsignore
, then I know it is as if I had the word of Rome. Take her away. I trust you know your way to the Garden Tower?”

The red hood nodded curtly and leaned toward the duke. “A bloody final waiting place, indeed,” the priest said in a low voice and put a gentle hand on Darrell's arm. With the glare of the sun still in her eyes, Darrell snatched her walking stick from the guard's glove and hurried after the scarlet robe as it swept in through the side door of the Chapel of St. Peter.

Dashing into the chapel door, Darrell ran straight into the arms of Friar Priamos. Darrell rubbed her eyes, trying hard to adjust to the near darkness inside.

“To the shed at the back,” he said. “There is no time to waste. Norfolk will soon see through the ruse when he finds the
Monsignore
has actually been with Henry all this time.”

“What ...?” Darrell couldn't find the words to put to the dozen or so questions that bubbled all at once into her brain.

“No time,” the man who had once been Conrad Kennedy repeated. He hustled her into the tiny shed behind the chapel. “Be safe, Darrell — and Delaney.” Priamos reached down, and though Delaney ducked his head a little, he stood bravely in place as the priest patted a final goodbye.

Darrell stepped through the doorway of the shed. “I am Dara,” she said to the figure inside.

“Yes,” came the response in a familiar voice, “though I know you better by another name.”

Darrell's jaw dropped as she found herself gazing into the deep green eyes of Professor Myrtle Tooth.

Grasping her dog tightly by the old knotted rope around his neck, she took the hand of the scarlet figure, and together they stepped under the doorframe that bore the burning symbol of a dying falcon.

Darrell sat on the bottom of the stone steps leading up to the school library. She swirled a mint in her mouth and, after a moment, remembered to offer one to her travelling companion.

“I thought you were Conrad,” she said quietly.

Professor Tooth nodded. “He told me so. I have a certain fondness for that scarlet robe, you know. Buried in its folds I can pass almost anywhere
Anno Domini
. But perhaps I need to take off a few pounds. It is remarkable how often I am mistaken for a male member of the clergy.”

Darrell noticed with a grin that her teacher pocketed the mint. “Mistaken? Professor Tooth, you can't fool me — you deliberately disguised yourself.”

“But in fact, I
could
fool you — and did, as I recall.” The school principal dusted off the sensible wool skirt
she now wore. “As you well know, Darrell, the cultural mores of the sixteenth century do not reflect any sort of equality between women and men. If I must make my way through the centuries dressed as a male, so be it.”

Darrell nodded. “I have been trying to find you all term, Professor. Have you been with Conrad the whole time?”

Professor Tooth smiled a little. “I have been back and forth, my dear. A school principal has many things to attend to these days, but my students' welfare takes absolute precedence.”

“So — you weren't in Switzerland after all?”

“I believe I made a little side-trip there near the beginning of the term. Let's just say it is a convenient spot from which to make a telephone call.”

Darrell leaned against the rocky wall. “I was so angry that you weren't watching out for Conrad, but you had your eye on him all the time.”

“I have many students to care about, my dear, including yourself.”

Darrell ducked her head away from the piercing intelligence that shone from her principal's green eyes. “Thank you for coming to help me,” she said quietly, head bowed.

“I didn't give you any help, Darrell. You found the answers you sought all by yourself. It just struck me that you might like a little company on your journey home.”
Professor Tooth consulted her wristwatch. “And now, I believe it is time we made our way up to the library. I have sent word for a small meeting of sorts, and it is due to begin very shortly.”

Delaney wiggled his way past Darrell on the tightly winding steps and padded up alongside Professor Tooth.

Darrell could hear the teacher's quiet voice echoing down the stairwell. “Lovely to see you again, Delaney. Lovely to be back, in fact. I have so missed this place.”

The secret door into the library was still slightly ajar, and as Darrell walked through she collected the book she had used as a prop to return to the shelves.

Professor Tooth reached out a hand. “May I?”

Darrell handed the book to the principal and glanced at the cover herself for the first time. “
The Six Wives of Henry VIII
,” read Professor Tooth. “An apt choice, my dear.”

The door to the library burst open, and Kate came charging into the room, followed closely by Paris and Brodie. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the school principal.

“Miss Clancy! My goodness, that is no way to make your way through the halls of Eagle ...” Mrs. Follett stopped chastising Kate mid-stream as she spotted the school principal from where she stood near the door. “Why Professor Tooth! Where did you come from? And when did you arrive back from Europe? Oh my, I
just feel terrible to not have been at the front door to meet your taxi. Such a long drive from the airport, too! I do believe —”

“Not to worry, Mrs. Follett,” Professor Tooth interrupted smoothly. “It was far too early an hour for me to expect anyone to meet me. And I am afraid it is my fault these students are careening through the school. I had just sent a very urgent message for them to join me here in the library.”

“Oh my goodness, Professor, I do hope everything is all right?”

“Of course, Mrs. Follett, everything is just fine. I am quite delighted to be back at school, I must say, though the term is nearly over and I seem to have missed a great number of goings-on.”

“Indeed you have, Professor Tooth. Why just the other day —”

“Mrs. Follett, I'm terribly sorry to cut you off, but would you mind dreadfully if I ask you to gather together all the papers that require my signature? I am sure there are several important issues that cry out for my immediate attention. I will meet you down in my office very shortly.”

“Of course, Professor.” Mrs. Follett scurried away, her head filled with happy visions of papers filed carefully away. The school principal turned once more to her students.

She smiled warmly at the group, all of whom looked more than a little shell-shocked by the latest turn of events.

“Perhaps we might sit a moment?” she asked politely. As the students pulled chairs around the small table near the back of the library, Professor Tooth smiled again. “I have much that demands my attention downstairs, as I am sure you know,” she said, “but I feel somehow that you may have a question or two that I might be able to address briefly.”

While the others stared at one another in stunned silence, Darrell laughed.

“A question or two?” she said. “Try a thousand. I don't even know where to begin. Professor Tooth, I have been wanting to talk to you since the first day of the term.”

“Since I do not have time to answer a thousand questions, perhaps you might begin with one you had on that first day of school,” replied the principal.

Darrell thought for a moment. “I guess I know part of the answer now,” she said slowly, “but when school started I was really angry. I was angry at myself for somehow allowing Conrad to travel through time with us. I felt responsible for losing him — and I thought he was dead, so I felt that was my fault, too. But I was also angry with you, Professor. I mean, you're the principal of our school, however odd a place it may be. And
therefore you have ultimate responsibility. How can you call yourself the principal and not be there to take care of the students?” Darrell looked around the table at her friends. “We all know so much more than when we came to this school,” she continued. “I don't think you'd get any argument from us that this place is the most amazing school in the world. But the risks of time travel are so enormous ... How can you let us take those risks unsupervised?”

Professor Tooth was silent a moment, her strong fingers interlocked on the table.

“You ask a complex and intelligent question, Darrell,” she said at last. “But the truth is that every teacher exposes his or her students to risk with each new piece of knowledge they impart. You may well ask how any teacher can let students go anywhere near a world loaded with danger that can take the form of everything from physical risk to drugs and exploitation to emotional turmoil. This is a concern teachers and parents face every day.”

The principal got to her feet. “When I signed on as a teacher, I had to accept that there is a real world out there, and that it is my responsibility to introduce the children in my care to the information that will help them make the right choices.”

She walked around the table and put a hand on Darrell's shoulder. “I know you have been angry at me
this term, Darrell. I regret most that you have felt deserted, because that is a feeling with which you are all too achingly familiar. And yet, I do not believe that anger is necessarily always a bad thing. Sometimes it can be a motivator, pushing people to make changes and learn more.”

The principal looked around the table. “I believe I am correct in guessing that there is much more all of you care to learn.” Every head nodded.

Professor Myrtle Tooth smiled. “Then perhaps you should count yourselves lucky that you enrolled at this particular school,” she said. “We specialize in learning new things, here at Eagle Glen.”

She turned to leave. “And now I am afraid I must go address Mrs. Follett's paperwork backlog,” she said. “You'll be happy to know that Professor Grampian has agreed to stay on to finish the term. I'm sure Mrs. Follett has more than enough work to keep me busy until them.”