Page 64 of The Queen’s Witch

As I, too, had been.

I searched no more that day.

Neither did the following days and then weeks lead me to so much as a cunning woman. The sacred day of Lughnasadh came and went, barely noticed by the people of Windsor. Next would come Samhain, bringing to Grandmother more torture. The memory of my dreams, of Grandmother’s flesh scorching, burning, peeling as she screamed in agony haunted me. Even if that was not the way Grandmother suffered, Mother Redcap had been certain that Grandmother did suffer at Joan’s hands. In some ways, not knowing how was even worse than the dreams. It was hard to fight off despair.

Then, in the first week of September, a rider pounded up to Windsor Castle, shouting for immediate entry. He bore a message from the queen. I was to ride pillion with him, to be conveyed with all possible haste to Wolfe Hall.

21

Wolfe Hall

On the second day, after a few changes of horse at manor houses on order of the queen and a night at an inn where I was given a tiny, reasonably clean room and a good supper, we reached Wolfe Hall in Wiltshire.

The large, half-timbered manor house of Master John Seymour was apparently not large enough. All around stood tents of various sizes and colors, campfires wafting smoke, the smell of cooking, casks of ale, all the necessities of servants and soldiers and wagon drivers and everyone else on the Royal Progress who could not fit into the house or barns. A royal page conducted me to the lodgings used by the queen, now at dinner, and told me to wait. The page asked me a few curious questions, which I did not answer because I had no answers. Was I here again as taster? If not, as what?

Emma entered the room, scowling.

“Emma, I was sent for. Can you tell me why?”

“I never understand why you are wanted. But you are to wait in the kitchen until I fetch you.”

I would learn nothing from her. I must await Anne. But at least in the kitchen I could obtain something to eat. If Wolfe Hall was like every other place, word of my presence had already spread. Several hours later Emma, still scowling, brought me to the queen’s outer chamber. Anne evidently wished to change her gown; she wore a loose silk wrap over her shift and petticoat. A yellow velvet gown lay on the floor, the bodice stained with red wine. Emma left, closing the door.

I curtsied, then the queen of England and I stared at each other.

“Elyn, I have need of you.”

Direct as always; allusive hints were kept for those she wished to intrigue. Anne’s expression was determined, even cold.

“May I ask, Your Grace, what sort of need?”

“A need for great magick. I am prepared to join you in your ceremony.”

The breath left me. Finally. My Third would consent. I would become thrice braided.

But the queen’s face—I must risk some questions. I matched her bluntness. “What sort of great magick?”

“That is not your concern. We must agree that if I do this, you will do as I ask.”

I saw my chance slipping away. If she wanted me to fatally poison or curse unto death Queen Katherine or Princess Mary . . .

Grandmother. Avenged and rescued.

To kill the innocent queen or her equally innocent daughter, a maid of nineteen.

The tightness in my throat barely let words pass. “I will do almost anything, Your Grace. But I will not practice malefic magick on anyone royal.”

“‘Malefic magick.’ Is that what you call it? Who do you imagine yourself to be that you presume to dictate to me? I can tell my lord Cromwell’s men that you are a witch and watch you hanged.”

“I know you can. And they will want to know how you know that I am a witch. Given our long association.”

For just a second, I saw the fury in her eyes, deadly to all who opposed her. But she had not become queen, had not kept Henry from her bed for seven long years, without control of her sentiments whenever it mattered. I had witnessed Anne rave and storm, but only behind closed doors and only because I had not mattered. Now I did.

But I had made my counterthreat, and now I must restore her to ascendancy. I knelt.

“Your Majesty, I will do anything you ask save what I just mentioned. I am your servant, as is all of England.”

“Get up, Elyn. You do not fool me. I agree to order no harm to anyone royal. Amatory magick is not harmful. And it requires you go through this ceremony.”