This Scepter'd Isle (36 page)

Sir John, Sir Edward, and Lord Henry Percy also discovered that Richmond could hold a grudge far beyond what any of them had expected of the usually cheerful and compliant child. He, who they had hardly known was inhabiting Sheriff Hutton with them until they crossed his will, began to make their lives a hell by constant complaints and demands. If Mistress Bethany was to be gone, he pointed out, they had better get accustomed to hearing that his bathwater was too cold, that his shirt was too starched or not starched enough, that his breakfast did not please him, that he could not sleep and wished to be read to . . . A page carried that message to all three commissioners in the castle at three of the clock in the morning.

Moreover, the commissioners said in hasty consultation the next day, what the boy asked was very little. The nurse's pension would have been nearly equal to the stipend they now paid her, so no real savings were involved in dismissing her. Let him have his way; it was not worth the struggle to break his will—and the truth was that none of them was sure who would win and all were sure that long-lived and bitter hatred would follow.

The next test of FitzRoy's power came when he was deemed capable of riding a horse rather than a pony. He attended closely to Sir Edward's choice of five mounts—two hackneys and three hunters—but he did not interfere. However, Sir Edward quickly recognized Richmond's tone of voice when he stated flatly that the animals chosen were in remarkably fine condition and he would like to keep the grooms attending them.

Although he did not really recognize them, Sir Edward thought the grooms looked familiar; they must have come with some regular guest, he thought. Fortunately no other commissioner had actually promised the positions to any client's stable-hands, and when the grooms professed themselves willing and honored to serve His Grace, Sir Edward agreed. Grooms had no influence.

Thus Kip Ladbroke and Reeve Tolliver came into FitzRoy's household and Harry knew his connection with Lord Denno was assured—if he could get out to the stable no matter where he went. When the dismissal of Mistress Bethany had been contemplated, Sir John had selected a valet from his hangers-on. FitzRoy had never allowed the man to touch him or his clothing, and some weeks after Kip and Reeve had been appointed, he sent for Sir John, accused the valet of theft, and asked that Shandy Dunstan be employed in his place.

Sir John was outraged. Dunstan was common as dirt, a low friend of Ladbroke and Tolliver. He tried to draw the line, refusing to replace his choice with a commoner. Valet to the premier duke of England was a position of power and influence. It must be a political appointment, reserved for a gentleman.

A very regal Richmond informed him coldly that the creature he had selected was a thief and no gentleman, whatever his birth. He was drunk and dirty. Sir John sent furious messages. Several other commissioners arrived to argue and explain, to offer their own candidates.

After a tantrum that covered the dining parlor and the commissioners with thrown food and broken crockery, Richmond was confined to his apartment as a punishment with the valet to watch him. Sir Edward made sure that the valet could do the boy no harm, warning Nyle and Shaylor, who were on guard duty that night to listen for any outcry and succor their master. But they heard no outcry, no suspicious sound of any kind.

Still, right under the nose of the valet, FitzRoy disappeared entirely. The valet spent the whole following day searching for him, having locked Mistress Bethany in her chamber to keep Richmond's absence secret.

When the valet finally confessed, Sir John was terrified; he ordered the valet imprisoned and sent for his fellow commissioners. They began yet another search of the castle and its grounds but found nothing and no guard had seen the boy, including FitzRoy's own four, who were half crazy with rage and fear. They demanded that the valet be given into their hands to have the truth squeezed out of him.

Sir Edward, with Sir John's violent approval, calmed them with promises that the king's torturers would do a better piece of work on him. Then he and his fellows spent the night trying to compose a letter to explain the loss of his son to the king.

They were still at it when Mistress Bethany, coming to grieve and pray in Harry's room among his toys and little precious things, found FitzRoy asleep in his bed, with Shandy Dunstan just entering the room with his hot water. She ran, shrieking with joy, to tell the commissioners that the lost was found. If they suspected that Dunstan was somehow involved, they kept it to themselves. The boy's smile told the commissioners that worse might befall them than a day's anxiety in another contest between them. Nothing more was said about gentleman valets. Let the king appoint Richmond's servants himself if he wished.

Everyone, including Lord Denno who had stage managed the disappearance in a nighttime visit to Harry's chambers, breathed a sigh of relief. FitzRoy's personal household was now fully staffed with men who were safeguarded against Sidhe tricks and otherwise incorruptible. It would be impossible for Pasgen to insert an agent of his own among them. Lord Denno then arrived openly to celebrate Harry's tenth birthday; Harry went back to being a most good-humored, obedient child, and the spring of 1529 began to slide into summer.

Although by no means scholarly, Harry was wide awake on the subject of politics. Over the years he had listened with deep interest when the commissioners discussed the rising and falling fortunes of King Henry's attempt to obtain a divorce from his wife of nearly twenty years so he could marry Anne Boleyn of the light laughter, the witty tongue, the dark eyes and night-dark hair. Harry pleased his commissioners by saying openly and most sincerely that he wished the king well. Nothing could please him better, he swore, than a healthy, long-lived legitimate brother. He did not wish to be king.

By the summer of 1529, however, it seemed more and more likely that his fortunes were again rising. The chances of obtaining the divorce seemed doomed to failure. The pope could not be brought to sign a bull ending the marriage. Wolsey, driven by the king's urgency, convened an extraordinary legatine court to pronounce the marriage invalid and present the pope with a fait accompli, but Wolsey was unable to force the court to come to any decision. The pope's legate adjourned the court and Queen Catherine sent an appeal to Rome.

That Rome would rule against Henry was a foregone conclusion, which meant that Catherine, who could bear no more children, would remain his wife and Princess Mary would be his only heir. It again began to seem that, deprived of the chance to marry again and try for a male heir, FitzRoy might be brought forward and established in Mary's place. The commissioners became more and more accommodating to FitzRoy's every desire; several took the time to explain their function and the meaning of the parchments he was asked to sign.

Other attempts were made to please the boy. He loved to ride and listened avidly to every tale of hunting, so he was included in a hunting party for which deer were driven close to the castle. He acquitted himself so well that a second hunt, less confined, was arranged. The boy kept his seat when others of the party ended up on the ground.

Denoriel was not happy with any of this; not with Harry's growing importance as a possible heir, nor with the freedom the boy had been given. He was made aware of any stranger who came to the castle, but who knew who or what might be lurking in the woods. He took his worries to Aleneil, but she did not think the threat to FitzRoy was great. FarSeeing had shown nothing more than the general danger of abduction that had hung over FitzRoy from the beginning, and she was distracted by her need to protect Anne around whom Unseleighe threats were gathering.

Mwynwen, to whom he also brought his worries, was not much more helpful although she sympathized with him. Richey, who was still alive and actually seemed less frail, was also demanding more freedom. He could no longer be confined to the house; he had Mwynwen's servant guardians, but they were vulnerable to many kinds of attack. She could only shrug and suggest that Denoriel ride along with the hunt unseen. Whether his presence deterred attack, Denoriel could not be sure, but there was none and the air spirit never sensed any magical presence.

After riding to several increasingly long and hard hunts, it seemed ridiculous to confine FitzRoy to traveling in a carriage when the entire party moved to Pontefract—which they had done several times without attack over the years. FitzRoy begged to ride, and permission was granted.

Unfortunately Denoriel could not find any reason to accompany the party and the commissioners were growing just a little wary of FitzRoy's long attachment to him. He elected to follow through the woods. Twice the air spirit came to him; somewhere magic was being worked, but it was not Sidhe magic, maybe only some wise-woman. It had no definite warning to give.

Meanwhile FitzRoy enjoyed the journey immensely and behaved so well that Lord Henry and Sir Edward promised he should ride whenever they traveled. Henry Percy, who had not been on that disaster-cursed journey from Windsor to Sheriff Hutton, was sure traveling was safe. FitzRoy was perfectly willing to remain well within the protections of his small personal Household, which was further surrounded by the royal guards.

Gerrit and Nyle rode ahead, behind the royal guards who rode ahead of the commissioners. Dickson and Shaylor followed just behind FitzRoy and ahead of another contingent of guards. On their heels came Reeve, leading Harry's extra horses. On FitzRoy's right rode Dunstan, now wearing half armor, sword, poniard, and pistol; Ladbroke rode to his left, also, surprisingly, in half armor with, if one looked carefully, knives peeking out of his boots, both sleeves, and behind his neck. He also carried a sword.

They arrived at Pontefract without incident and remained there until the second week in October when three of the commissioners, Lord Henry Percy, Sir William Fenwicke, and Sir John Forrester received notice of the election of a new parliament. In the same mail pouch was an urgent letter from Lord Denno's business manager. He left Pontefract with the commissioners who were going home.

Sir Edward did not like Pontefract, which had been built in 1086 by Ilbert de Lacy. It had been somewhat modified by later de Lacys but was still very uncomfortable compared with Sheriff Hutton. The hunting was better at Sheriff Hutton too. Sir Edward decided to move his charge back to Sheriff Hutton. FitzRoy, pleased by the idea of a journey, made no protest.

Near dawn on the third of November, the same day the new parliament assembled, the duke of Richmond, his servants, bodyguards, and the household in general set out to return to Sheriff Hutton, a little more than eight leagues away. It was a long day's ride, but Harry was sure he could manage and they planned to do it in one day.

Denoriel almost did not Gate north to follow them, even though he had a letter from Harry telling him when they would leave. His attention was also now fixed on Anne as the threat to her grew more intense. Ordinarily the most graceful of women, Anne had twice tripped—seemingly on her own feet—and nearly fallen down a flight of stairs. She had taken the sweating sickness, when no one else nearby had it; Mwynwen had to come from Underhill to cure her, in the guise of an old herb-woman friend of Anne's old nurse, Blanche Parry.

Although it frightened Anne very much because she could half see, half sense them, Aleneil had warded her around with invisible servants. It was tedious and exhausting; the servants could not long endure the mortal world and had to be replaced very often so they had to be watched constantly. Denoriel was forced to take watches with his sister.

George Boleyn had been attacked when he was accompanying his sister Anne home from Whitehall Palace. Neither he nor Anne had been injured, but Anne was frightened even more, sobbing that she had seen demons urging on the attackers. Later she denied that, assuring everyone that it had only been her fright that made shadows take horrible form. Aleneil, however, had been certain Anne's witch-sight had exposed the truth. For the next few days, Lord Denno had accompanied George to safeguard his sister, but then Anne was offered an apartment in the palace.

Aleneil left some air spirits on guard, but she was sure that no attacks on Anne would take place so close to the king. The Unseleighe knew better than to wake suspicions of their existence so close to the heart of mortal government. George was also delighted; he had been tied to Anne's apron strings and had given up many of his own amusements. There was a horse race scheduled for the fourth of November. He invited Denoriel as a thank-you for his help.

Meanwhile several uncanny accidents had happened to Denoriel's house in London. The workroom there, which Aleneil used, was wrecked when a wall collapsed, and a Low Court servant was injured so badly that he had to be sent back Underhill for healing.

Watching the slow progress of the moon across the sky on November second, a sudden anxiety seized Denoriel. After all the hue and cry in and around London, nothing had been accomplished. The damage to his workroom was superficial; no Unseleighe traps were found in it. No harm had come to Anne or George, but threat hung about them. Could all this rather open and pointless damage and threat have the purpose of diverting him from guarding Harry?

Thus when the cortege left Pontefract just after dawn on November third, Denoriel was about a mile ahead, back in the woods where he would parallel their course. He had Gated from London to Logres and then from Logres to Pontefract. He felt oddly sick when Miralys stepped out of the Gate area at Pontefract but was distracted by hearing the scouts for the cortege gallop by.

Harry's party rode until the horses were tired, then stopped for a picnic and to change their mounts and rode on. By midday Denoriel felt foolish. He was much tempted to ride back to Pontefract and Gate back to London to accompany George to the race. Then he sighed and decided to go all the way to Sheriff Hutton. Since he would have to adjust the Gate anyway to deliver him to London in time to meet George for the race, it made no difference whether he Gated a few hours earlier from Pontefract or a few hours later from Sheriff Hutton.