His presence masked by the Don't-see-me spell, Denoriel stood at the edge of the dead-end path listening to the exchange among Elizabeth, her brother, and the boy Blanche had called Lord Stafford. He did not misunderstand the expression of angry frustration that appeared briefly on Stafford's face. The boy was watching Elizabeth, trying to catch her in wrongdoing. Likely it was Stafford he had caught glimpses of in the distance when he and Elizabeth had been riding. Had Rhoslyn bespelled the boy to spy?
He extended his senses, feeling for magic. Perhaps there was the faintest echo, but if Stafford was bespelled, it was so well done or the spell so small that he could not sense it with any surety. And there could be other reasons for his spying. There was a great deal of pushing and prodding to be close to Edward, and Elizabeth was envied her brother's affection by most of the older boys.
Denoriel sighed. In any case it would be impossible for him to undo such a subtle spell and he did not dare ask Ceindrych or Mwynwen—each for different reasons—to help. He watched as Edward asked Elizabeth if she would walk back with him and she agreed. The boy then asked an eager question about the Latin translation he was working on and took his sister's hand. The older boy fell in behind them, scowling.
As he watched, Denoriel began to reconsider his plans for Harry's visit. He had intended to bring Harry through the dressing room as he had brought Ceindrych, but that now seemed too dangerous. Surely there would be cries of joy and eager conversation between Harry and Elizabeth. The maid's chamber was an inner room, and he could not be sure what other rooms adjoined it—probably servants' rooms, but not impossibly the chambers of some of the less important boys. If one was spying, it was perfectly possible that more were. In any case, the sound of a man's voice in Elizabeth's apartment—whoever heard it—would be utter disaster.
Better they should meet outside. If they were seen it would be far less reprehensible to be walking in the garden than to have a man in her bedchamber. But when and where? He was afraid Stafford would be watching the maze—or having friends or servants watch, which meant that they could not chance meeting Elizabeth there by daylight, nor could he and Harry walk out of the maze in daylight to meet her elsewhere. Besides, by daylight there was always the chance that someone who had known Harry would recognize him. Living Underhill, he had changed very little from his appearance at seventeen.
At night then. The moon was nearly full and the weather promised fair for tomorrow. Tomorrow night when the moon was well up. Just before midnight.
Still wearing the Don't-see-me spell, Denoriel followed Elizabeth and Edward as they crossed the very small formal garden in front of the building in which they lodged. He watched Elizabeth say an affectionate farewell to her brother and promise him that she would attend lessons on the morrow. Stafford, Edward, and his guards went toward the prince's apartment and Elizabeth toward her own. Denoriel caught Blanche by the arm.
She gasped with surprise, which drew Elizabeth's attention, but she only nodded very slightly to give permission. Blanche allowed the pressure on her arm to draw her toward a bench shaded by a small tree and several square-clipped bushes. Seated, she immediately opened the housewife attached to her belt and looked diligently at its contents.
"By God's Grace, you have brains," Denoriel murmured from right behind her. "Never mind that you cannot see me. I am here. You heard what I promised Elizabeth. Can you bring her to the maze tomorrow night when the moon is well up? That should be before midnight."
"No, I cannot!" Blanche sounded sharp, although she whispered and looked down at the pins, needles, and thread spread in her lap as if she were telling over the contents of the housewife. "How can I get her that long way through the Wilderness without light? Mostly the moonlight cannot get through the trees there. Do you expect me to carry lighted torches? We cannot see like cats as you can, m'lord."
For a moment Denoriel stood silent, calling himself a fool. As he tried to think of an alternative, his eyes wandered around the small garden. Toward the center there were some flower beds surrounded by a narrow lawn. Beyond the lawn were four benches, each near the middle of one of the square sides of the garden. Each bench was shaded by one or two trees and several well-trimmed bushes.
The benches would be shadowed if the moon were high. Yes, and he could give Harry an amulet carrying the Don't-see-me spell. Harry would only need to touch it and say the words of invocation to disappear. Elizabeth might be scolded for walking in the garden at night, but so close to her chambers and with Blanche in attendance, there should be no real trouble. She could plead a headache, and that she needed the air and the cool.
He said as much, and added, "Very well. Tomorrow night when the moon is high, just before midnight—right here. If you slip out of the house wearing dark clothing and sit on the bench in the shadows, no one should see you."
"Can I tell Dunstan?"
That was a good thought. If her twin shadows were in attendance, there would be that much more chaperonage. "Yes, and Ladbroke if necessary, but not the guards."
Blanche uttered a small chuckle. "I doubt anything they see or hear will surprise them, but they are bred to honesty. They might answer questions truthfully—which would never be Dunstan's fault." She sighed. "Oh, I pray that this will settle my lady. She has lived through too much."
"I, too," Denoriel breathed.
When Blanche had gone in, Denoriel made his way back to the maze and Gated from there to Logres. Miralys was waiting and carried him to Llachar Lle, from where he dispatched one of his servants with a message for Harry. If Mwynwen asked for it, the servant was to give it to her but then find Harry and tell him Denoriel had sent a message. Denoriel was taking no more chances on messages going astray.
He need not have worried. The problem of Mwynwen's attitude toward Elizabeth had been dealt with soon after Elizabeth's visit to Underhill. Thoroughly annoyed by Mwynwen's possessiveness, Aleneil had ignored Denoriel's concern for Harry's distress and told him that Elizabeth had been Underhill and had been terribly disappointed over not being able to see him because he had gone away with Mwynwen.
In fact, Harry had noticed that his lover had had something unpleasant on her mind for some time. He had thought it was bad news about his physical condition, and had not questioned her, determined to enjoy himself without worry about the future as long as he felt completely well. He had accepted death before he came Underhill and was not afraid.
After Aleneil's disclosure, it did not take long for Harry to put two and two together, and his reaction had been rather violent. Not that he argued or shouted. Merely at dinner, he repeated to Mwynwen what Aleneil had said and asked—coldly—whether he were a free man or a slave bought by his need for her care.
To his surprise Mwynwen burst into tears and sobbed that she was sorry, so sorry but that wasn't the worst that she had done. Harry just stared in surprise. The Sidhe were not known for saying they were sorry about anything—or, for that matter, for actually being sorry. But then Mwynwen confessed that when she had been asked to break the spell of dissolution on Elizabeth and Heal her, she had not removed the spell completely. She had left a piece of the spell—not anything that could harm the child physically, but a twist that might make her memory less perfect.
Harry, whose mind had grown into a man's, even if his body had not altered much, was coming to know his lover and understand her. He realized that it was for herself she wept, for falling short of her Healer's oath, not for any hurt she might have done to Elizabeth. And she had not answered whether he was free to seek another healer or bound to her. He pushed away his untouched food.
"What I was asking was whether I was free to live with Denoriel and find another Healer, or whether my debt to you and the services owed require me to continue to live here," he said, his voice icy.
"What services?" Mwynwen had snapped, lifting her head. "You mean our play abed? I thought you lived here and loved me because you loved me—and yet you will leave me because of that stupid human child. I did not even try to harm her. I meant the girl only good. I wished to blur her memory of you and ease her pain of loss . . . but what I did was wrong. Not that I meant harm or did harm—and she is only human after all—but I said I would clean the spell from her completely and I could have done so . . . and did not."
"Then I am free to go?"The chill in his voice only deepened.
After a small, tight silence, Mwynwen put her hand over his. "Harry, I said I was sorry. If the girl comes again, I will not keep you from seeing her—but do you not understand that it is very cruel of you to keep her desire for you alive? Let her forget you. Forget her."
"One does not forget one's child," he said. "She may not be the child of my body, but I held her in my arms soon after she was born and she is the child of my heart. She is the daughter I will never have . . . and I cannot forget her nor hope that she will ever forget me."
"Child?" Mwynwen repeated, and her eyes filled. "Richey," she whispered, naming the changeling she had cared for and who had died in Harry's place. "He was truly my child—and yes, you are right, I will never forget him, even though you are his gift to me to fill my heart." She tightened her grip on his hand. "Don't leave me, Harry. For your child, I will mend what I did amiss. I promise."
"Then I will stay," he said, leaning forward to kiss her.
Even as passion stirred in him when their lips met, however, he determined to tell Denoriel about the remnant of spell as soon as he could. Perhaps another Healer would be able to remove it. He doubted that Denoriel would trust Mwynwen to do it; he was not sure he trusted her himself. But she was so beautiful and so passionate and she did care for him—and his heart had near broken at the thought of leaving her.
Truthfully, he was not sure he could have fulfilled his threat. He was overjoyed that she wanted him even though he was making it clearer and clearer that he was no longer her child but a man grown; however, he did not forget Elizabeth, and Lady Aeron took him to Denoriel's apartment that very evening. He was lucky and caught Denoriel at home.
It turned out that he had been unnecessarily worried, for Denoriel was happy to pour out the rest of the story into his ears. When Queen Titania had made it impossible for Elizabeth to speak of Underhill, as Oberon had done to him, the Queen herself had found the bit of spell and removed it.
When Harry returned, he mentioned that to Mwynwen and watched her complexion gray. She said nothing, and he took her in his arms and murmured comfort to her, but he was sure she would not dare to interfere with Elizabeth again—and he was satisfied.
Thus when, many months later, Denoriel's message came for Harry, Mwynwen sent the messenger to him without delay with the message unopened. Harry put aside the delicate and exquisite fly he was tying—he both used them for fishing himself and traded them to a gnome, who had them spelled to attract fish and sold them to a dwarf in a troupe of players.
The gnome took his pay from the dwarf partly in mortal goods and partly in information. The mortal goods, the gnome sold at the Goblin Fair, the information he traded to Harry, who thus had kept up with his father's wives and their fates and to some extent with the political events in England. The flies were more valuable than news, however. The gnome would gladly have paid Harry in gold, but Harry did not need gold, because either Mwynwen or Denoriel would ken for him as much as he wanted. Instead he was building quite a store of favors owed from the gnome.
Lady Aeron was waiting as Harry stepped out of the house and he took time, as he always did, to hug her and kiss her soft muzzle before he mounted. Midway to Llachar Lle, they met Miralys, who paced them as far as the front of the palace.
"I think we'll be right out," Harry said to both of them, which was more true than he had expected because Denoriel was coming out of the palace as he mounted the steps to the portico.
Their eyes met. Harry turned back, went down the stairs he had climbed, and remounted Lady Aeron. Without any words exchanged the elvensteeds brought them to Logres Gate, from there to an Unformed domain, and from there to Shepherd's Paradise. Both dismounted and went to their accustomed seats.
"I'm sorry I've been neglecting you," Denoriel said. "It seems like months since we have been together."
Harry grinned at him. "It has been months."
"I'm sorry," Denoriel repeated. "I hope you are not getting bored and that you haven't been lonely."
"Bored!" Harry's eyes danced. "No, I can assure you I'm not getting bored. And I'm not lonely either. I miss you. I miss hearing about Elizabeth, but I have friends here and I have been doing yeoman work for the Bright Court."
Denoriel looked anxious. "Yeoman work for the Bright Court?" he echoed. "Whatever have you been doing, Harry?"
"Cleaning up some sinkholes that should never have been allowed to form."
"Sinkholes," Denoriel echoed again in a failing voice, then thundered, "Harry! Have you been hunting alone in the chaos lands because I did not take you there as I promised?"
Harry laughed aloud. "Hunting in the chaos lands and other places, yes, but not alone. Did you not know that there were Sidhe tormenting helpless creatures, right on the border of slipping over to the Unseleighe Court, because they could no longer think of how to amuse themselves? And that there were others talking about Dreaming?"
"Of course I knew." Denoriel shrugged helplessly.
Harry stared at him, aghast. "And you did nothing?"
"What could I do? I had nothing to offer them." Denoriel grimaced. "Young as I am, what gave me joy they had seen, done, tasted many, many times, so many that the taste was too well known . . . flat, gone."
"Did you never think to offer them danger?" Harry countered. "A life on the edge of nonbeing tastes sharp and sweet."
"What danger is there in the elfhames?" Denoriel asked.
Harry looked at Denoriel blankly for a moment, then rose from his seat to embrace his friend . . . his father of the heart. Yet like his mortal father, this father too was not perfect. Oh, Denoriel was not selfish and autocratic. Harry was quite sure that Denoriel would fling himself in the path of any harm that threatened his precious boy, but he could only worry about Harry being bored; he could not think of a new game, a new challenge to pique his boy's interest.
He settled on the ground beside Denoriel, leaning against his thigh. "Remember when you took me to that Unformed domain and the creature—well, it was like a lion but not fully like—charged at us? Later, I don't remember when, I asked if it would not be wise to hunt down that lion so that no other innocent caught in the domain would be hurt. You remember, I know. Just now you asked if I had gone hunting the lion alone because you could not take me."
"Of course I remember," Denoriel snapped. "I have been busy, not lost my mind."
"Did you know how hard such a beast is to kill?" he asked.
Denoriel laughed. "Yes, I knew, which was one of the reasons I did not wish to take you there before you were fully recovered—and I think that has only been recently."
"Oh, yes," Harry replied, glad that he could give that answer. "I am much stronger. Mwynwen only needs to draw off the poison once a month or so. And for the last year, I have been going hunting whenever a hunt was formed. But it was too easy, Denno. I looked at the poor deer, even a boar, and I thought how unfair, how useless it was to kill them. We did not need the meat. Our weapons . . ."
Denoriel was far from stupid; he saw the way the conversation was going immediately, and he stared at Harry, aghast. "And naturally you immediately thought of the beast in the Unformed domain . . . Harry!"
Harry shrugged insouciantly. "Well, I thought you would not like me to go alone and . . . It was not that I was afraid—"
Denoriel was torn between his horror that Harry had attempted such a thing and his pride in Harry for what had clearly been a successful attempt."You should have been afraid, you idiot!"
Harry grinned unrepentantly. "But it is not much fun to hunt alone, and a full hunting party is well suited for such tasks. And then I caught Elidir tormenting a gnome—"
"And you told him to stop!" Denoriel threw his hands up in the air. "It is a miracle you are alive, that he did not substitute you for the gnome."
"You forget this." Harry pointed to the blue star on his forehead. "No, to be fair, that wasn't what stopped him. He—he was really ashamed, and he hadn't hurt the gnome, only frightened it, teasing it hard, driving it past being able to think, like a well-fed cat with a mouse. Anyway, I said that if he needed a challenge I knew of something worthwhile that needed killing and told him about the lion. He was the one who told me how hard those creations were to kill while they were in their own place and he knew of other Sidhe who were also getting tired of living. So he asked them, and we formed a party."
"Yes, and I knew about them," Denoriel said slowly, "And I knew about the beasts of the Unformed domains, but I never put the two together." Denoriel shook his head and finally laughed weakly. "Mortal mischief. So what will you do when you have cleaned out that domain?"
"That domain is long safe and quiet. We are working in El Dorado now." Harry gave a slight shiver and leaned harder against Denoriel. "I do not know if we will ever cleanse that place. There is something . . . something truly evil that has tainted it."
"Truly evil?" Denoriel raised an eyebrow. "I have never ventured there—"
Harry nodded. "Yes, evil at heart. The beasts in the chaos lands are dangerous, but not truly evil. But what is in El Dorado . . ." He rubbed his face against Denoriel as he had when he was a little boy. "So far we have only found the evil's spawn, not the thing itself. Elidir and Mechain are both working on their magic now that they have a worthy foe." Harry's face lit with a smile of great sweetness. "They are as good and bright as newborn, and many others, too. It only took giving them a purpose again, a noble, fine purpose, and now they are like guardian knights! And who knows, if we can cleanse El Dorado, perhaps it can be a home again for the Seleighe Sidhe. It is a beautiful place."
Denoriel hugged Harry's shoulders. "If we can ever find those that fled it or breed enough Sidhe to need another elfhame. But truly evil? That is dangerous, Harry, far more dangerous than a construct lion."
"You need not worry about me." Harry grinned. "Elidir and Mechain and the others guard me as if I were a precious jewel. They don't want to lose their discoverer of trouble, the one who cured their boredom."
Denoriel laughed and nodded. He was sure that was true. A human who gave freely of his creativity, not constrained or dulled with longing for his lost home and friends, was a precious jewel to the Sidhe. And Harry's eyes were bright, his face alive with interest.
So he asked the question he most needed to know the answer to. "Then you are content to live Underhill, Harry? You do not long for the mortal world?"
"Not at all. I do miss Elizabeth, that I will grant. I long to see her again before she is no longer a child at all, but I always wanted to live Underhill." He sighed, and the sound was full of content. "I am glad to be here. Given the choice of all the worlds and all time, I would still live here."
Denoriel smiled. "Then I will take you to see Elizabeth."
"Now?" Harry shot to his feet.
Denoriel laughed. "No, not this minute, but as soon as I can get an amulet with the Don't-see-me spell and explain a little of the situation to you. I've already sent Aleneil a message about the amulet. I hope it will be in my apartment when we return."
But now Harry was all afire with impatience. "Then let's go now."
"No." Denoriel shook his head. "Sit down again, Harry. I'd like to finish talking about Elizabeth here and I have much to tell you."
He told Harry not only the plan for meeting but tried to prepare him for Elizabeth's lack of trust in everyone and to explain that however young Elizabeth was in years, there was almost nothing childlike about her. Neither her manners nor her speech were other than those of a grown woman. And he explained her precarious situation too, that she was envied and spied on because her brother was fond of her and that many considered her tainted with her mother's promiscuousness and conniving, hoped to use that to make her father reject her.
"Nonsense!" Harry exclaimed. "Anne was a fool, but never promiscuous."
Denoriel shrugged. "I agree, but the fact that Catherine Howard, who was Anne's cousin, really was little better than a whore has convinced everyone, even those who at first could not believe the accusations against her, that Anne was also an adulteress."
Harry snorted. "Anne was too clever to commit adultery. She was only a fool in not seeing that even the innocent could be accused, and by the king's will be convicted."
Denoriel nodded. "You and I know that is the truth; however, the fact of Anne's conviction and execution leaves Elizabeth very vulnerable. It would be very bad if Elizabeth were caught with a man, not to mention how you, who are supposed to be long dead, could explain yourself. And do think, Harry! What else might be thought of, to see you, who was so nearly the king's heir, talking with Elizabeth, when you have been supposed dead. Would that not stink to high heaven of treason?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. "There have been pretenders e're this," he said slowly, "And heirs who were supposed dead, had men who were in their likeness return."
"And no matter what might come of Elizabeth being seen with an ordinary man, being seen with one who appears to be the late duke of Richmond . . ." Denoriel prompted.
"Yes, treason. Or a conspiracy to commit treason."
Denoriel nodded. "So you must be prepared to disappear if anyone should appear, no matter how brief your meeting."
"And have my one chance to see Elizabeth cut short!" Harry protested, pain in his voice.
"One chance? Oh no, I think not." Denoriel was grinning fit to split his head. "After this, you will be able to see her at many convenient times and without any danger of being overlooked. I can bring her Underhill—she is marked by Titania to come and go. Only this time she insists on you coming to her so she can be sure you are not an illusion." A tinge of bitterness touched Denoriel's voice. "I told you. She does not trust me."
"Poor child," Harry said, grief for her making his voice low. "Poor child. At least I had that. You were my great rock, my safe place. I had you."
They arrived in the maze early, before the moon was fully risen, and made their way carefully through the Wilderness. There were voices near the pond at the center. It was a warm evening, and a few members of the court had sought the greater privacy of that place. Most courtiers went to walk in the great formal gardens that fronted the palace. These voices were young, boy and girl, possibly servants, but they were already saying their farewells. Harry and Denoriel waited.
The moon was barely peeping above the trees when they came out of the wilderness near the wall that surrounded the nursery. Wearing the Don't-see-me spell, Denoriel touched the guard at the gate, leaving him erect but with glazed, unseeing eyes. Harry opened the iron gate with the guard's key, Denoriel slipped past it with a shiver of pain, and they went into the small formal garden where they were to meet Elizabeth. From a shadowed corner, Denoriel pointed out the doorway through which Elizabeth would come.
As the moon rose, it slanted the shadows of the small trees across the benches they shaded. As soon as the shadows were long enough, Harry walked quickly across the exposed lawn and seated himself where he would be able to watch the door for Elizabeth. Denoriel remained in the shadow of the wall. He had dismissed the Don't-see-me spell to save the drain on his power. He hoped he would not need it, but just in case of discovery he wanted enough power to do magic.
The moon rose higher. Inside her apartment, Elizabeth, who had been trembling with first eagerness and then anxiety, said impatiently, "I can wait no longer. If anyone should see us and ask, I will say that it is so hot that I could not breathe. I had to go out."
She was dressed in black with only a white collar embroidered with silver around her neck. The inner side of the sleeves of her gown were also silver, but they were turned under so the silver side did not show. She and Blanche had discussed removing the collar and then decided that to do so might imply a need for secrecy.
Dunstan held the guard's position at the door. He had sent Nyle on an errand, not because Nyle would have protested Elizabeth's going out but because he would have insisted on following her. When Blanche opened the door, Dunstan signed that all was clear, and the women slipped out and down the stair. Blanche too was wearing black and stepped so quickly out of the door and to the side that Harry did not notice her.
He did hear her low-voiced, "Come, love," and stood, making out a blur of white that was Elizabeth's face as she hurried quickly across the path that separated the garden from the buildings. He started forward at once, eagerness overcoming caution and called softly, "Elizabeth."
In the shadows by the wall, Denoriel bit his lip and cast anxious eyes over the garden. It was barely twilight to him, even in the shadows, and where the moonlight was unimpeded, bright as day. He saw nothing. Even so he extended a thread of perception that should have snagged on anything warm and breathing. It found only Elizabeth and Harry.
Denoriel did not seek in the buildings; there would be many humans there. Thus he did not notice that a young man sat dozing by an open window, seeking a breeze. Harry's voice, Elizabeth's name, snapped his eyes open, but he did not move except to turn his head slowly so he could see.
What he saw was Elizabeth turn toward the voice (a man's strong voice) that called her name, hesitate, and then hurtle toward the man, who had just emerged from the shadows near a bench. Stafford watched without moving long enough to see Elizabeth fling herself into the man's arms. He slipped carefully away from the window then, slowly enough so that any reflection of moonlight on his white shirt would not attract attention, and began hurriedly to dress. He could hear excited voices, one clearly male, but not what was said and he could not wait to listen. He had a long way to go.
Elizabeth had turned her head at the sound of her name, stared for just a moment, and then flung herself forward, careless of being exposed fully in the moonlight, crying, "Da! Da!"
"My baby. My baby." Harry's voice was thick with tears and then laughter as he held her a little away from him to look at her. "Only you are no baby any longer. But you are still Da's girl, are you not?"
To his surprise she began to tremble and weep, pulled a little farther away, fumbled under her skirt for a moment, and then thrust something into his hand. He looked down to see the iron cross that he had worn for nearly all of his life, until he passed it to the infant Elizabeth.
"Sweetheart, dearling," he said, extending the hand with the cross to her, "I am in no danger. You need to keep the cross with you . . ."
And then he realized why she had thrust the cold iron on him without warning. She did not wish to return the cross. She had feared he was a disguised Sidhe or a construct. Neither could have borne the touch of cold iron.
"I am me, love, truly I am," Harry assured her, bending his head and kissing the cross he held. "I am well and whole. Look, I will put the cross on and wear it while I am with you. I swear I was saved. I am alive and well."
Then she embraced him with all the fierce strength of her young arms and burst into a storm of weeping, and clung to him, sobbing. He kissed her hair and hugged her back.
"I never knew what was the truth," she whispered. "Kat only said that you were very far away and would never be allowed to come home because you would be a threat to Edward. But when I asked the guards, the look on their faces told another tale. And once I saw tears run down Gerrit's face when he denied you were dead. I stopped asking because I could see how much it hurt them. They loved you and they knew you were dead."
"Someone else was buried in my place. They did not know that." Harry replied, grief for his friends and protectors thickening his voice. "I knew they loved me. They fought so hard for so many years to keep me safe. It is a miracle that they were not killed more than once. And they fought for you, too, dearling, that night that I was wounded. They are ageing now. Do you need younger men to protect you?"
"No, by God's Grace. I am nearly always lodged with my brother and any palace in which he stays is very well guarded indeed." He heard a firm determination in her voice that was out of keeping with her years. "I will keep them with me as long as they are willing to stay and Denno has promised to help me pension them if they wish to retire. Also, I am not of any importance any longer. Edward is hale and well, God be praised, and he will rule and rule well." At the thought of her brother, she raised her face to look into Harry's, with a tremulous smile. "Oh, it is a shame that you cannot meet Edward. He is so clever—"
"You are so clever. Not like me." He shook his head, ruefully. "I always loved my horse and my sword far better than my books. Denno tells me about your progress in languages and your other lessons . . . and about how you skin him alive now and then."
She was silent for a moment, looking into his face in the bright moonlight. "I am sorry," she said in a small voice. "I know I have not always been kind to Denno, but I was so afraid he was lying to me about you. If he lied about one thing, why would he not lie about another? I wanted so much to trust him . . . and I could not."
"But you can, love," he told her firmly. "Really you can. Denno is truer than gold—for gold can be false, as I well know—but Denno cannot. He almost died for you once already, when you were not quite three years old, and he will do anything for you." He lowered his voice to a murmur. "You are his whole purpose in life, Elizabeth, and all he asks in return is love."
"That he has," she admitted. "Which is why I ripped up at him so hard. Because I did not want to love him and could not help it. But I cannot swear I will never say harsh things again, nor refrain from teasing with my claws, like a naughty cat. I—you are sweet, Da. I am not."
Harry laughed heartily. "Oh, do not try to make yourself over for Denno. He loves you just as you are. He has said to me more than once that he could not do without having his blood boiled once or twice a week." As Elizabeth giggled he hugged her tight, then stepped back and took her hand. "Now I cannot tell you anything about where I am and what I do—and you know the reason for that—but you can tell me about how it has gone with you. I am hungry, dearling, to hear everything, every little thing, what time you rise, how and on what you break your fast, and all the doings of your days."
When Stafford was dressed, he took one more quick glance out of the window to make sure it was really Elizabeth and she was really with a man. He was just in time to see her fling her arms around her visitor and squeeze him as tight as she could, to see the man bend his head to kiss her hair and embrace her as fiercely as she embraced him. He then went quickly out of his room and down the stairs, through a servant's passage and out the back door.
A road ran behind the buildings. Stafford turned right on it. He was soon behind the wall of Hampton Court Palace and he walked along quickly until he found a guarded door.
"I am Henry, Lord Stafford," he said to the guard, "and I have important news for the Lady Mary, very important. I know it is late, but could a message be sent to the lady requesting that she see me."
The guard frowned, but behind him in the corridor was a bench on which a page slept. The door he guarded was the closest to the nursery wing and the page was there for the purpose of carrying messages about the children. If the prince should be taken ill, for example, the page would go to the king and he would send for his physicians. Sometimes the servants of one of the younger boys would ask that a message be carried to the mother or father of the child because of some emergency. The guard could not remember ever sending a message to the king's eldest daughter, but there was no rule against doing so.
Stafford waited, barely restraining himself from pacing and wringing his hands. He realized that this was the best opportunity he would ever have to be rid of Lady Elizabeth and have a chance to supplant her in the prince's affection. Beside that, Stafford had been annoyed by the bare-faced lie, told so innocently that he had begun to doubt his own eyes, that it had been her maid and not a man kneeling before her in the maze. The maid's gown was dull gray, the man's doublet a vibrant golden brown—the sun had not dazzled his eyes.
He was not held in suspense very long. In a very little time, Jane Dormer returned with the page. "I am very sorry, Lord Stafford," she said coldly, "but my lady does not receive gentlemen in the middle of the night."
Stafford bowed. "Then two words with you in private, Mistress Dormer. My news is not . . . not such as should be spread abroad."
For a moment she stared at him, seemingly unmoved, but then she nodded, stepped out of the door, and walked along the road just far enough that the guard could not hear low voices, although he could still see them.
"Well? What is this news?"
"I do not know what to do, Mistress Dormer. What I saw cannot be allowed to continue and yet . . . yet I dare not . . ."
"Dare not what?"
"Speak of it."
"Are you mad?" Jane said, irritably. "If you dare not speak, what are you doing here requesting an audience with my lady?"
He primed up his face. "She is the only one I could think of to entrust with this horror. Her long affection for Lady Elizabeth assures me she would do her best for her sister—"
Jane's eyes widened."Lady Elizabeth! Out with it. What horror?"
He tried to make himself look indignant rather than excited. "It is so warm that I was dozing by the open window of my chamber when I heard a man call out 'Elizabeth.' I came awake, thinking I was dreaming, but then I saw Lady Elizabeth come out of the building into the little garden at the front and run to the man. She clipped him and kissed him and he her—"
"Clipped and kissed." It was the lady's turn to look prim. "But Lady Elizabeth is only a child, not yet eleven years old."
"I could hardly believe it myself," he replied, drawing himself up to look as tall as he could, "but when I left my room to come here they were still locked in each others' arms, and I minded several times that I thought I had seen her riding with a man, but when I rode closer she was alone. I did not know what to do. If Lady Mary comes to the nursery and sees them in the garden, surely her authority would banish this man and she could explain to Lady Elizabeth that what she was doing is wrong."
"Wait here," Jane said, and hurried back to the building, nearly running.
Stafford paced the road back and forth, wondering if Elizabeth was still in the garden with her lover. How long would they dare stay together? So young as she was, surely she could not be ruled by passion. How could she be such a fool? But her mother had been fool enough to betray a king because of her passions.
Or was it worse than that? Was it conspiracy? But then, why the embraces? Unless the man he saw was one she had known long and thought of as a father? And in that case, who could the traitor be? For traitor he must be, if he could not come to Lady Elizabeth openly by day, and with King Henry's favor.
Stafford bit his lip. There was no one else that Edward favored, except his whipping boy, Fitzpatrick, but Barnaby was no match for the prince's scholarship. Stafford's lips twitched. He was no match for Edward's ability either, but in years more of lessons, however unwillingly, he had learned more than the prince yet knew.
If he were clever, when Elizabeth was gone, he could get Edward to turn to him. He began to plan his campaign, and so soothing did he find those plans that he was surprised to hear Jane Dormer's voice, and when he turned to her to see Lady Mary, two more of her women, and two grooms of her chamber wearing swords.
He was appalled at the size of the party, but all he could do was to beg Lady Mary for quiet. He pointed out that any unusual noise would undoubtedly send Elizabeth's lover—
At which point Mary angrily reminded him that Elizabeth was only eleven years old, and could not have a lover. Stafford bit his lip, knowing there were houses of pleasure that offered children even younger to those who craved such amusement.
"I do not mean that any physical intimacy—aside from the kisses—is involved, only that there is a man who is perhaps trying to win Lady Elizabeth's love so that she will favor him strongly in the future when her father is looking for a husband for her. She is now so far down in the line of succession that the king might—"
Stafford did not realize that he had hit a sore spot in Mary. She had long craved to be married, to have a husband and children of her own, but every negotiation for her marriage had fallen through. That Elizabeth should be courted, even by an unsuitable person, was an outrage.
"That is not to be thought of!" Mary exclaimed. "If she is meeting a man, she should be confined in a convent where she can be properly controlled."
Stafford did not remind Mary that the king had long since closed all the convents in England. He merely said "If she or her . . . ah . . . visitor hear us . . . We are a rather large party and the garden is very small and very quiet. He will disappear out into the Wilderness and . . . and I am also afraid that Lady Elizabeth will not admit to her fault."
"I do not believe my sister would lie."
Stafford did not reply to that, and after a significant silence, Mary continued, "And how could anyone get to the Wilderness? There is a guard at the gate, is there not."
"Whoever it is got in," Stafford said, dryly. "Guards can be bribed. And it would be greatly to the guard's advantage if the person escaped without being caught."
They were now approaching the back of the nursery lodgings, and Stafford added desperately, "My lady, if you wish to warn Lady Elizabeth, it would still be best if the others of your party would remain inside the building. You could step out of the door and then do what you think best about calling your ladies and grooms."
Mary looked away, wringing her hands and biting her lip. Elizabeth. Always a thorn in her side. Winning Edward's affection, drawing him away from the true faith so that his soul would be lost and the whole realm would be corrupted. A part of her wanted to prove the Boleyn bitch's daughter a loose wanton like her mother. Another part remembered how Elizabeth used to coo at her as an infant, run to greet her with outstretched arms as a babe and wanted to protect the little sister. But she realized that Stafford's advice was sensible; it could be turned either way.
She bade her party remain in the corridor while she herself stepped outside. Stafford touched her arm and pointed to one of the benches. The moon was just overhead and only one corner of the bench was in deep shadow. A dappled silvery light showed the upright figure of a girl near the middle of the bench. Elizabeth.
Hands, large, square hands, certainly a man's hands, reached from the shadowed side of the bench, took Elizabeth's hands, lifted them, presumably to kiss. One hand disappeared, appeared again to press something into the girl's hands. Then the shadow within a shadow stood and stepped backward into the moonlight.
"FitzRoy!" Mary cried, in involuntary recognition.