The Virgin Queen's Daughter - Ella March Chase (26 page)

The night-quiet stable wrapped me in warmth, the scent of horses, leather, and hay reminding me of Calverley and the hours I had spent in Crane’s tender care. A lantern dangling from an iron hook in a rafter cast uncertain light, mellowing the wood to silver and the hay to strands of gold. Halfway down the line of stalls, I heard the hollow sound of shifting hooves. Doucette thrust her head over her stall gate to whicker a greeting. “Can you not sleep either, my beauty?” I crooned as she nibbled my sugar, mannerly as a duchess. I stroked her nose the way she liked it. Before she could nuzzle me further, I heard the commotion of someone arriving in the courtyard I had just crossed.

The stable door flew wide and I heard a voice over the flurry of hoofbeats as the person rode in. “You, boy, saddle a fresh mount for me. Have it ready for me by the time I return and I will reward you most handsomely.” The figure flung himself from the saddle and in the wavering lantern light I glimpsed silver wolf fur and black hair. Gabriel. He started to charge past me when suddenly his gaze locked on my hair. He slammed to a halt. “God’s blood,” he swore, startled as if he had stumbled on a devil or an angel, I could not tell which. “You.”

“Sir Gabriel.” I felt as if he had sucked all the air out of the stables.

“What are you doing out here?” He scowled. “There is no way you can know.”

“Know what?” I asked.

“Lad!” Gabriel barked over his shoulder. “Hasten with that horse. The lady I seek is already here.”

“You were looking for me?” I backed away a step, my shoulder bumping against the wall of Doucette’s stall.

Gabriel smelled of cheap ale and heavy perfumes. His hair was tousled, and there was a smear of what looked to be a woman’s white makeup on his breeches. How it had gotten there I could not guess. “Does anyone know where you are?” he asked.

The back of my neck prickled, and I hesitated. It hardly seemed wise to tell him not a soul would know I was missing until tomorrow morning. Mary had a filthy cold, so I had given her our bed, and offered to find somewhere else to sleep, beyond the maid’s lodgings. To save Moll the trouble of tracking me down in some as of yet unspecified place, I had told her not to bother with readying me for bed. I would find someone else to undo my gown.

“Of course people know,” I lied. “Why should it matter?”

Gabriel glanced around, but the only ones in the barn were the two of us and the lad putting tack on a restive bay. “Nell, where is Hepzibah Jones?”

Eppie?
Terror iced me.

“You must tell me where to find her.”

“Find who?” I balked, trying to buy myself time, think what to do.

“You know damned well who she is! The woman in the garden! Your old nurse.”

He knew who Eppie was. What else had he managed to uncover? Was this a trick? Some way to get me to admit to meeting Eppie? Did Gabriel hope that by frightening me this way he might startle me into confessing something more?

“I have not seen my old nurse since I was fourteen,” I lied. “My mother banished Eppie from Calverley because the old woman ran mad.”

Gabriel dragged me into the shadows, his face so close to mine I could feel the chill on his skin. “Damn it, Nell, we’ve no time for games. Walsingham is sending his men to arrest her.”

I stumbled back, horrified. “How would you know such a thing?” I reeled, knowing I had blundered. I had not questioned why Walsingham would order her arrest, only demanded how Gabriel knew the spymaster had done so.

“I was reveling with some of Walsingham’s men at a brothel. The sergeant bragged he was to drag a woman to Tower Prison for Walsingham himself to question.”

“It cannot be Eppie.”

“Every moment we waste arguing is one less we have to reach her. I would not have wasted time riding back here, except I could not get the soldier to tell me where they planned to find her. You are the only person who might know.”

His words thrust through me. Why would the Gypsy’s Angel wish to foil Walsingham’s plan, if a plan existed? To do so would be political suicide if the spymaster found out. Whereas if Gabriel’s intent was to lead Walsingham’s men
to
their quarry, what better way to make me confide it to him than to prey upon my worst fears? That way I might tell him of Eppie’s whereabouts. I was the only one outside Eppie’s family who knew she lived at the Silver Swan.

I edged away from Gabriel, searching for some weapon to use against him. “For all I know you weren’t even outside the palace walls!” I challenged, stalling. “What gate did you ride through? And where was this brothel you supposedly patronized?”

“In Southwark. The Cock and Bull. I rode through the postern gate. I bribed the guard to keep it open until I ride back through.”

I caught sight of the brick grooms used to hold the stable doors open when summer turned stifling. I let the panic overwhelm me—an emotion real enough—let my legs collapse beneath me.

Gabriel cursed, lunging to catch me before I struck the ground, but I rolled to one side, my fingers closing around the rough brick. Fear shot uncommon strength into my arms. I swung the brick in an arc, striking Gabriel in the side of his head. He gave a cry, fell half across me, his big body driving the air from my lungs.

“Sir?” the stable lad called in alarm. “Sir, is something amiss?”

“He fell, struck his head,” I said as I struggled to push Gabriel off me. “Go fetch some cold water to splash his face.”

The lad bolted out of the stables, leaving the door flung wide. I grabbed my chance. I wrestled the freshly saddled horse to the mounting block and scrambled astride the bay’s back. I drove my heels into its sides and the animal sprang into action.

Cold wind snapped my hood against my cheek. Clutching the reins in one hand, I yanked the fabric up over my head, then clamped my chin down on the bunched material to hold it in place. Leaning over the horse’s neck, I cantered toward the postern gate, praying Gabriel had not lied in this much, and that it would still be open for me to ride through.

I saw smears of orange torchlight, the dark mouth of the arched opening. Heart hammering, I prayed. It was open! I closed my eyes for a second, thanking God. The guard waved me through, and I heard the gate grinding closed behind me. London engulfed me. I knew thieves owned the darkness, cutthroats and brigands and whores selling their wares. The curfew was long past, and any watchman could challenge me. If anyone at the palace got wind of my flight from Whitehall . . . I shuddered, imagining what it would be like to be hauled before Elizabeth Tudor, have her demand to know what a royal maid of honor was doing racing about the city at night. What if Walsingham had other spies keeping watch while Sir Gabriel tried to trick me into betraying Eppie’s whereabouts? What if someone was following me even now?

I glanced over my shoulder. Behind me the world was a blur of shadows. As for the pounding in my ears—I could not tell if it was hoofbeats or the drumming of my heart. How could I even find the Silver Swan? I had never been to the place, only knew it lay across the Thames in Southwark. What if I became lost in the labyrinth of streets? Who among the denizens of night would I even dare to ask for directions?

Hopelessness dragged at me, but one thing I knew for certain: Eppie was in danger. I clung close to the edge of the river, using it to guide me until I caught sight of the lights from the houses on London Bridge. When a watchman stopped me, I told him my sister was like to die in childbirth if I did not fetch a midwife to save her. I begged him to tell me where to find the Silver Swan, then followed his directions, thanking God that Father had drilled the skill of memorizing into me.

Twice I took a wrong turn, losing myself in alleyways that smelled of raw sewage and rotted meat. I retraced my steps, fighting back tears. Then I glimpsed landmarks the watchman had given me. Two more turns and I would be there.

I rounded the last corner, saw cresset torches blazing, a dozen horses waiting outside what looked to be an inn. My heart leapt as I glimpsed the sign swinging from chains above them—a swan’s arched neck. I reined my horse to a stop and flung myself off, relief flooding through me. I had found the Silver Swan. I would see Eppie safe! I was still two houses away when the inn door flew open, a crowd spilling into the night. Soldiers garbed in crimson, inn customers clothed in fustian. A plump woman and a cluster of children sobbing, clinging to the skirts of the person the soldiers were hauling away. Torchlight illuminated a white headdress, a haggard, beloved face.

Eppie. I choked back the scream that rose in my throat, knowing I dared not utter her name. If anyone caught me here Walsingham would have all the proof he needed to condemn Eppie and me to the queen. Gabriel had been telling me the truth. The knowledge struck hard as the brick I had wielded. If I had trusted him, he might have known where the Silver Swan was. I would not have wasted time asking for directions. I would not have gotten lost. We might have reached Eppie in time to warn her.

I pressed myself against a wall as the crowd from the inn railed at the soldiers, neighbors who knew Eppie and her family roused out of their houses by the noise. Walsingham’s men jostled Eppie toward the horses, lifted her up before a burly soldier. Eppie’s tormented gaze caught mine across the space that separated us. I saw her eyes go wide with terror, recognition.

The soldiers spun around, following her gaze. He must have seen my stricken face. “Over that way!” Eppie’s captor waved a beefy arm in my direction. “Seize whoever that is!”

The crowd scattered, as if afraid he might order them captured next. Half a dozen soldiers started wading through the press of people. I hastened to where I left my horse. Alarm rocked me: the animal was gone. An equine snort sounded in the alley and I took a chance, plunging into the narrow opening, not knowing whether I was rushing toward escape or a place the soldiers could trap me all the more easily. I suddenly slammed into what seemed a wall. Pain shot through my nose, but a hand muffled my cry before I could utter it.

“Quiet,” Gabriel rasped as he flung something over my head. I felt wolf fur against my cheeks. “Not a word or I cannot save you.”

Grabbing a flask of ale from somewhere on his person, he dumped the liquid over us both, the stench making me choke. He clamped his arm around me so tight he nearly suffocated me in the folds of his cloak, then he jerked me forward none too gently, weaving his way through the alley.

“Halt in the name of the queen!” one of the soldiers pursuing me roared. Gabriel swerved us around until I knew we must be stumbling toward the man instead of away.

“This is a surprise, my fine fellow!” Gabriel greeted in a slurred voice. “Were you not with Sergeant Perkin at the Cock and Bull tonight?”

“I was.”

“What are you doing frolicking about here?” Gabriel gave a most convincing stumble, treading on my toe. I bit back a cry of pain.

“Careful, my sweet,” he said. “Keep your feet out from under mine or you will make me trip into the good soldier, here, and he will ’rrest us both.” Gabriel gave a sloppy laugh.

“Someone fled this way. My captain ordered me to seize whoever it was.”

“A wench shoved past us. Did one not, my pet?” Gabriel nudged me. “Wait! Do not answer.” He turned back to the soldier. “No one must recognize her voice. Her husband is suspicious already. He’s likely to murder her if he finds us out. I have been tippling at her fountain.”

“I am sorry, but I must insist on identifying your lady friend.”

Gabriel seemed to stumble, knocking into the soldier, flinging the man off balance. Gabriel shoved me behind him and I heard the metallic ring of sword ripped from scabbard. Through an opening in the folds, I saw Gabriel’s sword glitter. “This lady is not the person you seek,” he said, his voice lethal as his blade.

The soldier leapt back in surprise and I saw him draw his weapon. “My sergeant will be the judge of that.” Metal clashed, the two circling, thrusting, parrying. I heard a tearing sound; the soldier yelped in pain. I knew Gabriel’s sword tip had struck true.

What would happen if Gabriel killed one of Walsingham’s men? The queen had warned Wyatt never to use his sword thus again, threatening he might lose his hand. But before the soldier’s wounds got grimmer, the sounds of battle brought others rushing to the alley. One soldier carried a torch. “What goes on here?” A commanding voice shouted, a man on horseback blotting out the light. “Seize that villain!”

“Sergeant! Hold. It is me, Sir Gabriel Wyatt.”

“Wyatt?” The officer gigged his mount closer. “What the devil? What is this about? You dueling with a soldier of the Crown?”

“The man insulted my honor.” Gabriel thumped his chest with his fist. “He refused to take my word.”

“Sergeant, I was chasing someone down this alley,” the wounded man explained. “I demanded to see Sir Gabriel’s companion and he drew his sword.”

“It is a bad habit with me, I confess.” Gabriel shrugged ruefully. “The queen herself has chastened me for my readiness to cross swords. But there was no help for it this time. I had to fight. You see, your minion wished to unveil my mistress, but the lady has a very jealous husband who would strangle her if he ever found her with me again. I could hardly take the chance that such gossip would get back to him.”

The first soldier protested, but Gabriel cut him off. “I seem to remember telling you about my lady’ charms while we were reveling tonight, Sergeant. There is a certain trick she learned at the court of France . . .” I saw the officer shift in his saddle, his mouth pursing as if he were imaging some pleasure.

“Ah, yes,” he said lewdly. “How could I forget? Perhaps I should peek beneath what veils her, just to reassure my underlings. Surely you could not object to that.”

I held my breath, knowing even one glimpse of me could mean disaster. Gabriel shook his head in regret. “I am afraid I cannot agree to even so reasonable a request. I gave the lady my word as a gentleman that I would conceal her from all eyes. And that is what I intend to do. Sergeant, I beg you to pause. Reflect upon what I said earlier tonight. Did I not tell you I was leaving the brothel to seek her out? Indulge in French delights? I am loath to draw any more blood tonight. But I will if I am forced to.”