The queen's man : a medieval mystery (34 page)

"From Nell. They were drinking at the alehouse after the

Sharon Kay Penman

Fleming's capture, gossiping and joking how you'd evicted Luke for a mystery bedmate. They were all curious about her, of course, and someone suggested, half in jest, that Nell ought to invite you and the girl to come over and join the revelries, so they could get a look at her. Nell retorted, right sharplike, that 'She's too grand for the likes of us,' and once the others realized she knew something, they badgered her until she told them: that a 'very elegant lady' had visited you after you'd gotten stabbed, escorted by the queen's knight."

When Justin swore under his breath, Aldith gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze. "It ought not to surprise you so. People love to gossip, especially about bedsport. And you're always going to be talked about on that Gracechurch Street, what with rumors that you serve the queen."

They had stopped on the narrow pathway that wound among the graves, and she raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun's glare, looking up earnestly into his face. "I do not pretend to know what happened between you or what went wrong. But I think you're still hurting. It might help to talk about it, to get a woman's view—"

"No!" he said, with a sharpness that he at once regretted. "I know you mean well, Aldith, but there is nothing you can do. It is over."

"Are you sure of that, Justin? There are few breaches which cannot be mended—"

"You do not understand. This was far more than a lovers' quarrel. It involved a betrayal."

"I see," she said. "But was it beyond forgiving?"

"Yes," he said, "it was."

They continued on up the path, walking in silence for a time. After giving him several sideways glances, she said, somewhat hesitantly, "When you said her betrayal was unforgivable, you really meant that you had to make a choice: whether to forgive her or not."

He smiled, mirthlessly, for she'd spoken greater truth than she knew. He had indeed been confronted with a choice. "I suppose so."

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"I know I'm meddling," she said, "and alter this, I'll say no more, I promise. But it seems to me that it is still gnawing at you."

"I suppose so," he said again, much more reluctantly this time.

"Could it be, then," she suggested softly, "that you made the wrong choice?"

When he did not reply, she was content to let the matter drop, hopeful that she'd planted a seed, one which might flower into reconciliation. Taking his arm again, she said, "Come on, let's go spend your money. I think you ought to buy Nell a miiror. I know where you can get one of polished brass at a reasonable price. And some hair ribbons for her little girl. After that, would you mind if we stopped at St Mary's Church over in Tanner Street? Father Antony has been getting up a collection of blankets and clothing for Kenrick's family, and I would like to see how it is faring."

"I'm glad to hear that. But I'd not give Father Antony all the credit for that good deed. I understand he got a nudge or two in the right direction."

"Luke told you, did he? It was the lad, Kenrick's boy. I could not get that pinched little face out of my mind," she confided, "for that was once me . . ."

By now they were back on High Street. Eager to show Justin the brass mirror, Aldith was tugging at his arm, urging him to hurry. They had not gone far, though, before Justin heard his name being shouted. Aldith heard it, too. "It is Luke!" she exclaimed in surprise. Turning, they saw the deputy striding swiftly toward them.

"Where in blazes have you been, de Quincy? I've been searching all over town for you!"

Justin was startled by the tension crackling in the other man's voice. He'd thought that Luke had gotten over the worst of his jealousy. "Why?"

"I'd sent two of my men to Southampton to fetch a prisoner. They got back this morn, and with news you need to hear. John's ship dropped anchor in the harbor last night."

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Justin drew a sharp breath, and Aldith looked from one man to the other in puzzlement. "John? The queen's son?"

"Who else?" Luke said tersely. "You know what this means, de Quincy?"

Justin nodded. "Trouble." Seeing that Aldith still did not comprehend, he said, "If what we heard is true, John has made a Devil's deal with the French king. He did homage to Philip for Normandy and promised to wed Philip's sister, apparently forgetting that he already has a wife. In return, Philip vowed to assist him in claiming the English crown. So you see, Aldith, his sudden return to England does not bode well for the queen or Richard."

"What are you going to do, Justin?"

"I have to let the queen know," he said, "straightaway."

Aldith emerged from her cottage with a package wrapped in hemp. "I packed bread and cheese for you, so you can eat on the road." While Justin put the food away in his saddlebag, she made one final attempt to get him to stay the night. "I do wish you'd wait, Justin, and leave in the morning."

"There are still hours of daylight left, enough for me to reach Alton with luck. That'll put me fifteen miles closer to London on the morrow."

Justin tightened the straps fastening his saddlebag to the crupper, pausing to look across the stallion at the deputy. "I've been curious about something, Luke. Do you know a man named Durand de Curzon?"

"No . . . the name is not familiar."

"He may have used another name. A man in his thirties, taller than most, with dark auburn hair and beard, bright blue eyes, an overbearing manner." Justin was unable to resist adding, "And a sneering sort of smile."

"I do remember a man like that," Luke said thoughtfully. "He claimed to be the sheriff's deputy for Berkshire, on the trail of an escaped felon. As I recall, he asked a lot of questions about crimes hereabouts, saying he had reason to believe his man might be sheltered by local outlaws. Why? Does it matter?"

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"No," Justin said, "not anymore."

Aldith slipped her arm through Luke's, and they followed Justin out to the street. "Keep your guard up, de Quincy," Luke said brusquely, "for John could be a more dangerous foe than the Fleming."

"I'll be back for your wedding." Bidding them farewell, Justin turned his horse out into the road. When he glanced over his shoulder, they were still watching, and he waved, then rode on. The streets were thronged with carts and other riders and he had to keep checking Copper to avoid trampling careless passersby. Once he reached the East Gate, though, he left the city's congestion behind. The road ahead was clear and he urged his stallion into a steady gallop. But Luke's warning seemed to float after him on the wind.

It was late and most of London was abed. But lights still blazed in the queen's great chamber. It was quiet after Justin was done speaking. Eleanor was gazing down into her lap, her splendid rings glittering on tightly clasped fingers. "Pour us some wine, Justin," she said at last, "and we'll drink to my son's homecoming."

Her irony was so labored that Justin winced. Crossing to the table, he brought back two cups, but drank sparingly of his, for wine and fatigue could kindle a fire faster than any fuel he knew.

Almost as if reading his mind, Eleanor said, "You look bone weary. You must have slept in the saddle to get here so fast. Once again you've served me well."

Justin's mouth was dry. He took a quick swallow of the wine, then set the cup down in the floor rushes. "No, madame, the truth is that I have not served you well at all. For more than a fortnight, I have kept something from you, something you needed to know. I have good reason to believe that Lady Clau-dine is spying for your son."

She continued to sip her wine. "Indeed?"

Justin had been braced for anger, disbelief, even outright denial. But not indifference, never that. "Madame . . . you did hear me?"

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He sounded so bewildered that she almost smiled. "Yes, I heard you, Justin. You said that Claudine is John's spy/'

His breath quickened. "You already knew!"

She nodded. "Actually, I've known for some time."

Justin was dumbfounded. "But . . . but why?"

"Why did I not expose her double-dealing? Surely you've heard of the adage, 'Better the Devil you know than the one you do not.' Well, that holds even truer for spies. Besides, Claudine's spying was never more than an irritation, for she is not ruthless enough to be truly good at it. And as long as John thinks I trust her, he will not look elsewhere."

Justin decided that he needed a drink, after all. "You seem to accept betrayal so calmly, madame. Why are you not outraged?"

"Outrage is an indulgence of youth. It is not a vice of age . . . or queens."

Before Justin realized it, he had drained his cup. "You know her better than I, madame. Why would she do it?"

Eleanor shrugged. "There are any number of reasons why people are tempted to dance with the Devil. Some do it for money. Some are coerced, some seduced. My son can be very persuasive. But if I had to guess, I'd say Claudine was lured in by the adventure of it."

"The adventure of it?" Justin echoed, so bitterly that the words, innocuous in themselves, took on the sting of savage profanity.

"Yes, adventure," Eleanor insisted, "for that is how she'd see it. I am sure she has convinced herself that no great harm comes from her disclosures. She gives John what he wants, gets what she wants, and no one is truly hurt. It is a game to Claudine, only a game."

Justin shook his head slowly, a gesture as revealing to Eleanor as any outburst could have been. She watched as he returned to the table, poured them more wine. Accepting another cup, she said, "For what it is worth, lad, Claudine seemed to fancy you from the first. I doubt that she would have bedded a man she did not find desirable. She considers herself a spy, not a whore."

To Justin, that was meagre consolation, and he drank again, so

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quickly that she was moved to caution him to go slower. "I have no intention of getting drunk/' he said tautly. "I've already gone down that road." Hearing his own words, he realized that the wine was loosening his tongue more than it ought, and he put the cup aside. "Did you know, madame, that I'd found out about Claudine?"

"Yes, I knew."

"Then why would you want to take me into your service?"

"I felt reasonably confident that you would come to me with the truth. I suppose I was curious to see how long it would take," she said, with a slight smile.

"You were testing me?"

"What do you think?"

"The truth?" he said, with a shaken laugh. "That I'm in over my head!"

She smiled at him over her wine cup. "I think you've been treading water quite well. No . . . you're a better swimmer than you realize, Justin. You proved that by the shipwreck story you concocted to tempt Claudine."

He stared at her. "How could you know about that? It is not as if Claudine would tell you!"

"No ... but Durand did."

For Justin, this was one shock too many. "I do not understand," he said, in what was the greatest understatement of his life. "Why would Durand tell you? He is John's tame wolf!"

"No," she said, with the faintest glimmer of grim amusement, "he is ray tame wolf."

"Are you saying that Durand has not been spying for John?"

"No ... he has been spying for John for months. But what John does not realize is that Durand tells him only what I want him to know."

Justin was still trying to come to terms with this new reality. "But Claudine knew about Gilbert the Fleming. How could John have learned about him if not from Durand?"

"Yes, that came from Durand," she confirmed. "What use would he be to John if he did not deliver valuable information? He gives up just enough to keep John coming back for more."

Sharon Kay Penman

"So . . . when Durand confronted me in the great hall, that was all an act?"

"No, not entirely. Oh, he was doing what you expected. You'd have been surprised, even suspicious, if he had not blamed you for his supposed fall from grace. But his dislike of you is quite real. He was very vexed at being caught out in Winchester. He rarely makes mistakes like that and does not take failure well. It is obvious that you return his hostility in full measure, and that is one reason why I am telling you this. You are likely to be working with Durand in the future, and I'd not want your suspicions of him to blind you to other dangers."

Justin was regarding Eleanor with awe. If family could indeed be equated with that "castle on a hill" he'd once envisioned, hers was a magnificent structure, luxurious and majestic, but with blood splattered on the walls within. While he marveled that she could face a son's treachery without flinching, he sensed, too, that the queen's needs would always prevail over the mother's. He was not sure if he'd have chosen to be part of her world—so sun blinding and dazzling and dangerous—but he could not imagine walking away. For better or worse, it was too late.

Thinking that Durand must like to ride his stallion along the edge of cliffs and sleep in burning buildings, he said, "I am still puzzled, though, about Durand's role in this . . . you called it a 'Devil's dance,' I believe. Since Durand was not truly John's man, why bother following me all the way to Winchester, not once but twice? Why not simply tell John that he had done so and save himself a lot of needless time in the saddle? Instead, he even went so far as to interrogate Luke de Marston—"

The answer came to him then, in a burst of clarity that took his breath away. "My God ... he was not in Winchester at John's behest, was he? You sent him after me!"

"I was wondering," she said, "when you'd realize that."

Justin had so many questions that he settled for one, a simple "Why?"

"You alone had seen the killers. That made you the logical choice. But you were still a stranger to me—and if you'll forgive me for saying so—very young. I wanted to make sure that I'd

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not bo throwing a lamb into the lion's den. So 1 thought it besl that you had Durand there to keep an eye on you, at least until you'd demonstrated that you were quite capable of looking after yourself."