Page 57 of The Queen’s Witch

“I have seen no immorality at Bredham Abbey.”

Abruptly, he rose, looming close enough that I smelled the ale on his breath. “Where are the relics?”

“We have no relics.” Would he question Philippa in this manner? She would die of fright.

“You have hidden the relics you use to seduce coins from peasants.”

“The abbey does not do that. There are no relics here.”

His boredom returned. I had yielded nothing of value. “You may go.”

After the men rode away, I prepared a tisane to calm Philippa. Cecily would take nothing, although she radiated distress deeper, albeit less terrified, than Philippa’s.

I said quietly, “My lady abbess, what will happen now?”

“Nothing, for at least a while. Master Crekett said reports about religious houses will be collected all over the kingdom and sent to my lord Cromwell in the autumn.”

“Why would he tell you that?”

She smiled bleakly. “To impress me, who am of higher rank, with his privy knowledge. Perhaps you have not encountered that sort of person.”

She had just described most of the royal court. I said nothing.

“Now I must write letters,” Cecily said, and I left her.

Nothing would happen until autumn. I would save my worry about her, about the abbey, until I saw what occurred.

A fortnight later, two men appeared, arrested me, and conveyed me on horseback to Whitehall Palace, where Queen Anne awaited me.

18

Whitehall Palace

1535

Dirty, tired, bewildered, with Pipkin still in my pocket because I had been brought directly to the privy chamber, I knelt before the queen of England. “Your Grace.”

“Elyn,” she said. “Or is it Sarah now? No matter. You must wonder why you were brought here. It is to once more act as my taster.”

I sensed the lie, but reason would have brought the same realization. She was now queen. And not once had I detected poison in her food when she had been at greater risk. No, the answer sat right before me. Queen Anne wore a crimson velvet gown over an underskirt of cloth of gold; the girdle at her still-slender waist shone with rubies and diamonds, as did the edgings on her neckline and hood. Her sleeves were turned back to show their ermine lining. But her cheeks had begun to sag. Her lips were set in a thin line. Watching her dark eyes gleam with suspicion and petulance, rather than their former allure, I knew what she wanted.

“I am happy to be your taster again, Your Grace. But I think you also brought me here for my other abilities.”

“You dare question the queen?”

“No. I respectfully wonder if you still remember what I can do on your behalf if we perform my ceremony together.”

“Of course I remember that! You forget yourself, Elyn.” And then, with one of her quick shifts of mood, she said more quietly, “I am considering it.”

Now I knew for certain how much trouble she must be facing. The king, of course. Henry had obtained what he desperately wanted—did he now no longer want it? Had he tired of her? I said, “I am your servant in all things.”

A bleak smile. “I doubt that. But you may prove useful. You are different now, Elyn.”

“I am years older.”

She did not like that reminder. How old was she? I had never known. Not yet too old to bear a child, and perhaps that was her difficulty with the king. One princess, one miscarriage, and all the world knew that Henry needed a son.

Anne snapped, “Do not presume to think you know my mind!”