Page 59 of Lord of Deception

Chapter Forty-Six

Alys clutched at the carved timber studding behind her. What had she done? In a moment of chagrin, she’d spoken words intended to wound, to rend the heart Kit had so recently given into her possession. She’d been too harsh… would he forgive her? Alas, even from a prison cell, Kate still had the ability to blight her life.

She must follow him, go with him to Walsingham if she must—at least feel she still had a stake in what happened to Kate. But she’d barely taken a step when a hand on her shoulder held her back.

“Master Norris.” She managed a wobbly smile, but her heart was pounding. “God give you good day.”

He had no answering smile. Instead, he grasped her arm and hustled her through the nearest door onto the lawns. “Come, smile, look cheerful so none will know the serious business we speak of.”

“What business?”

“You have a letter. What have you done with it?”

He must have been watching them. Had he heard everything? She would die of shame.

Where was the letter? Ah, Kit had taken it. “I have no letter.” It was none of the man’s business.

His fingers bit into her arm as he led her onwards, away from the courtiers on the lawn. “I overheard it all, Mistress Barchard. Believe me, I am your friend and wish only to help you. Ludlow may not be aware of how you feel, but I have a much greater sensitivity. I will do everything in my power to bring you to your cousin. But we must move fast if we are to steal a march on the spymaster. Do you have anything valuable?”

A curious question. “Very little. Why?”

“We’ll need it for bribes. Never mind, I shall bring my purse. How soon can you be ready to leave?”

“You mean you will take me? Today?” Even now, the torturers might be starting their interrogation of Kate. Every second counted.

“What better time for it? Ludlow will keep Walsingham otherwise occupied, the queen is busy in her audience chamber, and everyone else is outside, enjoying the fine weather. No one will question our going out for a ride. And just think how pleased Elizabeth will be when you return with the identity of the final conspirator. Why should Walsingham have all the glory? Go now and prepare, and I’ll meet you at the stables.”

Alys left Norris and hurried back to her chamber. Her breath came in short, anxious bursts as she hunted down as much jewelry as she could find—which was depressingly little—and the small amount of coin she’d brought with her. It was most generous of Norris to offer to assist with the bribes—his help could not have been more timely. When her eyes fell on an unopened bottle of wine on the table, she collected that too—it could be used to sweeten the gaoler, mayhap, or be saved for Kate. She wrapped it in a cloth and tied twine around it, then sped towards the stables.

Norris was not long in coming. He’d thrown a long black cloak over his rich court clothes, and his saddlebags were bulging.

Her heart sank. “Is it such a long way then? I haven’t brought any luggage.”

“Nay—these are comforts for the prisoners. I brought a cloak for you—keep the hood well up that you be not recognized. You wouldn’t want to arouse Elizabeth’s wrath, would you?”

Nor Kit’s. “I know the need for secrecy.” She donned the cloak.

It was a long and tedious ride. Despite the busyness of the roads and the interesting places they passed, the journey held none of the anticipation, none of the pleasure of her customary rides into Cheyneham. Norris’ urgency had been replaced by a nervous tension which communicated itself to her, so she was jumping at every sound of cart wheels or horses behind them. Was there any way in which she could conceal this journey from Kit? He’d be furious with her for thwarting him.

Much of the journey was spent at a jarring gallop, so keen was Norris to reach the city before dusk. How fortunate he’d offered to assist her—he knew every back road, every byway, keeping them out of sight as much as possible. She pondered on his need to be so devious—he was a powerful courtier, and his position was assured. The only person likely to wish him harm for this escapade was Kit. In truth, she suspected he was doing it largely to infuriate him—or to rouse his jealousy.

Seeing Norris muffled up in his cloak reminded her of the man who’d dropped the rosary bead. Kit had been so angry then, she thought he suspected her of being a traitor. He’d certainly think her a traitor now, but if she could get that name for him, surely all would be forgiven? It cut her to the quick to think he might shut her out once again. She must not allow that to happen.

The houses and wayside buildings became more dense, with more taverns and alehouses, stews and workshops. She’d never been in such a noisy place, the volume of which increased as they drew near the Thames. What a splendid spectacle the river was—if only she could afford the time to stop and admire it! She was fascinated by the wharves and jetties where cargoes were being loaded and unloaded, and the river-men who plied their boats up and down, full to the gunwales with passengers.

They eventually pulled their mounts to a halt at an inn, where Norris deposited his saddlebags, explaining he’d rather travel light on their first foray into the Tower. He would collect them later, once the right palms had been greased. Then he helped Alys down into one of the ferries with her bundle.

Her skin went cold. It must be breezier down by the water.

“Have you traveled by boat before?” Norris appeared concerned.

“I have not, but ’tis no matter. If you assure me it is safe, then I shall be well enough.” Everyone else looked comfortable, as they rocked about on the swell created by the multitude of vessels. It couldn’t be that dangerous.

As soon as they were out on the water, she detected a change in Norris. There was a glint in his eyes, and a look of fierce triumph on his round, swarthy face. He must be a man who thrived on adventure and challenge… a little like Kit, but also very unlike him.

The thought brought a sigh to her throat. If only it were Kit, not Norris, who’d decided to aid her. She’d far rather it was him now sitting in the bows of the ship, the river zephyrs ruffling his dark hair.

“This is where we stop.” As he helped her out of the swaying boat onto solid ground, his hand trembled. When she looked up at the edifice before her, she understood why. The Tower looked to be an impregnable fortress, with both inner and outer walls protected by massive drum towers, either singly or in pairs. The great sprawl of battlements and buildings was watched over by the massive ancient White Tower, its newly whitewashed walls and limestone blocks reflecting back the dying light of the day. Even here, down by the water, she could hear the sound of animals roaring in the royal menagerie and the shouts of the yeoman warders. Somewhere here was the royal mint, which would have its own guards. How could they possibly hope to gain admittance?