Face Down Before Rebel Hooves Part 4

Dartnall was deep in his cups, muttering incoherently. "Wast sure they could rely upon the woman."

"What woman?"

"Sent word she was not to be trusted. Because of her husband, see thou so? But she did not die, and none have come after me, so how can they have had the right of it? When she does deliver up the packet, all will know her to be loyal to the cause, just as they thought at first."

Nick did not have to feign confusion as Dartnall emptied his tankard and called for a refill. His desire to beat the story out of the beer-soaked lout grew stronger. "At first you were to trust this Eleanor Pendennis?"

Dartnall's nod was so vigorous that his bonnet fell off. "She toon a packet I had for England."

"Took a packet," Nick repeated, translating.

"Fair jumped at the chance." Chuckling, growing more inebriated with every pa.s.sing moment, Dartnall rambled on.

In with the dross was gold. Although it sore tried Nick's patience to extract information at such a slow rate, over the course of the next hour he heard enough to formulate a surmise. At first, thinking Pendennis no more than a simple diplomat, the conspirators welcomed the chance to use his wife as a courier. Then someone must have belatedly discovered Pendennis's past as an intelligence gatherer and Dartnall had received word that it was dangerous to deal with the wife of such a man.

The clerk yawned and blinked at Nick with sleepy eyes. "Ordered me to arrange an accident, they did."

Nick felt a chill course through him. His fingers clenched hard on his empty tankard.

"Followed her," Dartnall mumbled.

"You followed Lady Pendennis, waiting for an opportunity to stage an accident?"

"Aye. Simple matter when it came to it." Dartnall chuckled. "Clout on the head for the farmer who owned the wagon. Sharp blow on the flank of the horse that pulled it."

A vivid picture filled Nick's mind and made him wish he'd not drunk so much beer. Closing his eyes did not banish the image, nor could it blunt the impact of Dartnall's words.

Eleanor Pendennis had been murdered.

Too cup-shotten to notice Nick's reaction, Dartnall kept talking. Nick forced himself to listen, even managed to ask a question or two, although part of his mind continued to reel in shock.

Dartnall had killed two people, Eleanor Pendennis and the driver of the runaway wagon, and he showed not a bit of remorse. That he'd been fooled by Pendennis's deception and believed Lady Pendennis was still alive did not excuse him. He was still responsible for the death of an innocent countryman. Split his skull open on the cobbles? Was that what Pendennis had told Susanna? Nick wondered if he believed it.

"Who gave the order for Eleanor Pendennis's death?"

"'Thumberland." Dartnall mumbled. "His seal."

Nick had thought Susanna's greatest danger lay in being unmasked as Lady Appleton. Now he feared she would be in deadly peril if the rebels believed her claim to be Sir Walter's wife. When she landed in Yorks.h.i.+re, calling herself Lady Pendennis, the earl of Northumberland could well authorize another attempt to kill her. Dartnall might have convinced himself that she was one of them, but Dartnall was a fool. Others more clever than he were sure to be suspicious of their new recruit.

Abandoning any idea of returning to Hamburg, Nick fixed his mind on practical matters. If he could get to England quickly enough, he might still be able to stop Susanna from walking blind into a nest of vipers. He knew people in Vlissingen, a little seaport at the mouth of the Scheldt, who could find him a fast s.h.i.+p with a captain willing to run the embargo. Given fair winds, he'd be in Yorks.h.i.+re in less than a week. He might even arrive there ahead of the Green Rose.

Chapter 8.

Off the Yorks.h.i.+re Coast November 1, 1569 Waves breaking near sh.o.r.e made the short distance Susanna had to cover in the s.h.i.+p's boat the most harrowing of the entire voyage. Driven by a powerful northeast wind, icy spray pelted her, drenching her clothing in the frigid air.

As the tiny craft plunged and rose again, she caught an enticing glimpse of bold overhangs and a projecting headland. The sea surged halfway up an opening in the cliffs.

The bay through which they lurched and bucked seemed entirely open to the force of the gale. Susanna wondered that the Green Rose had not been lost on the rocks. Someone had told her it was high tide. As if to prove it, another huge wall of water rose up, obscuring her view and convincing her she was about to drown within sight of sh.o.r.e. She would never set foot on English soil again.

"Almost there!" Walter shouted to be heard over the crash of the surf.

Their little boat dipped downward again, causing Susanna to grip the sides more tightly and close her eyes. She could not help but remember that similar circ.u.mstances, years before, had cost her father his life.

"Time to go, Sir Walter," yelled one of the rowers.

Susanna heard a mighty splash as Walter left the boat. She let out a little yelp of protest as she was scooped from her precarious perch. No one paid her any heed. A crewman swung her over the side as if she were no more burden to him than a sack of wool. Seconds later she dropped into Walter's outstretched arms.

He staggered a bit but kept his footing. "Hold on," he instructed.

With her arms wound tightly around his neck, he waded through knee-deep water. Another wave almost knocked them both flat, but somehow he remained upright, reached the sh.o.r.e, and began to climb a narrow path.

Hidden away behind the rocky landscape, the village remained invisible until they were almost upon it. A cl.u.s.ter of buildings clung to the high water mark, nestled in a deep gully between two cliffs that protected the little settlement from the force of the wind, "We're safe now." Walter lowered her to her feet.

"And to think," she murmured, testing the strength of her legs and finding them capable of a few stiff steps, "that for a few days I thought I could enjoy being on the water."

Chuckling, he glanced over his shoulder to chart Lionel's progress. Susanna's gaze followed his. Coming after them, her loyal henchman and one of the seamen carried their baggage, holding the cases and bags high above their heads. They plowed through the undertow at a steady pace, untroubled by the choppy water.

As Susanna watched, the sun came out from behind the clouds, at once transforming the color of the sea from gray to a jewel-toned blue edged with white. When she turned to study the rocky coastline, she was treated to another striking display of color. Bright greens and umbers streaked the deep purple of the escarpment.

"Home," she whispered. "England." She did not think she had ever seen anything more beautiful.

An hour after they set foot on land, wearing garments that felt dry only in comparison to the kirtle and bodice she'd had on when they arrived, Susanna huddled close to the hearth in the common room of an inn called the Boar's Head. She shared its warmth with Lionel, who had gotten thoroughly soaked when he'd twice returned to the rowing boat to collect the rest of their belongings. Walter never traveled without numerous changes of clothing and Susanna, in addition to the necessities, had brought along her own saddle.

Walter joined them by the fire a few minutes later. Shoving aside the heavy cloak Susanna had hung over a bench to dry, he seated himself and extended his booted feet toward the glowing embers.

"Did you deal with the port commissioner?" Susanna expected to have to pay a duty on the value of any possessions she'd brought into the country.

"No need. This village supports free trade. That is why I chose to disembark here rather than wait until the s.h.i.+p reached Hull."

In its entirety, the settlement consisted of only a dozen dwellings, a chapel, and the inn. "The residents make their living by smuggling?"

"And by fis.h.i.+ng. Both are time-honored professions along this section of the coast. A third is provisioning travelers."

In other words, Walter had paid good coin to insure that none of the villagers mentioned their arrival to the authorities. Until that moment, Susanna had not considered that he might wish to hide their return from government officials. She supposed the precaution made sense. At this stage, there was no way to tell an enemy from a friend. Anyone might be in league with the conspirators.

"I took the liberty," Walter added, "of paying the vicar to spare us the obligation to attend this morning's service of divine wors.h.i.+p."

"Is it Sunday?" Susanna frowned, wondering how she could have lost track of time to that extent. "By my reckoning, it should be a Tuesday."

"Aye. But also All Saints' Day."

The door to the common room creaked open to admit the innkeeper. "Here thou is." Grinning at them with a gap-toothed smile, he placed the tray he was carrying on the small folding table he'd set up earlier. "Hot mutton pies to take away the chill." A mouthwatering aroma joined the smell of wet wool.

"Lady Pendennis and I thank you, my good man."

Although Lionel had been warned Susanna meant to a.s.sume the ident.i.ty of Sir Walter's wife, he made a startled sound.

Walter waited until the innkeeper returned to his kitchen, then rounded on the younger man. "Do you want to get her killed? G.o.d's blood, man! Remember to play your part."

Susanna placed a restraining hand on Walter's arm. The fabric beneath her hand was still damp and encrusted with brine. "No harm done, my dear. Lionel will remember my new name the next time."

They devoured the meat pies in silence. Only after the last morsel had been consumed did Walter return to the business that had brought them to Yorks.h.i.+re. He withdrew several long, tightly-rolled strips of paper from concealment inside his doublet. Maps. Placed end to end, they showed the route she must follow, with landmarks such as bridges, fords, and ferries sketched in. It appeared to Susanna that a great number of rivers and streams wound through this part of England, bisecting the road at regular intervals.

"A guide will take us across the moors and the Hambleton Hills as far as Thirsk." Walter stabbed at a section of the curling paper to indicate that town. "There I will turn northwest toward Streatlam while you and Lionel go south to Topcliffe, Northumberland's Yorks.h.i.+re seat."

"We will need horses."

"I have already seen to that. These villagers do a steady business in selling mounts to newcomers who, as far as the customs agents know, never arrived at all."

"What news of the rebellion?" she asked.

"There are, as yet, no troops on the move, but rumors of unrest abound."

"Have you a way to discover more? Should we go to York first? The queen's council in the North-"

"A waste of time. The packet you carry must be delivered as soon as possible. Indeed, getting it this far has already taken longer than it should have. You will have to tell them that we landed in London. That should account for the delay."

"And lead them to believe I'd have heard the latest news of court and country on my way to Yorks.h.i.+re."

"Not if you seized your first opportunity to flee from your husband and were obliged to hide from possible pursuit as you traveled north."

Filled with sudden misgiving, Susanna studied her old friend. She was keenly aware of Lionel's silent presence just a few feet away. He was the most loyal of servants and she felt responsible for his safety. It was one thing to risk her own neck, quite another to ask one of her retainers to do so.

She was prepared to enter the household of the earl of Northumberland as a spy. She had given her word and would not go back on it. But she did have to wonder if Walter had told her everything she needed to know. "What is in the packet?"

"A letter." He rolled the maps and tucked them back inside his doublet.

"From whom? And what does it say?"

"Eleanor would not have been able to break the code. It will be best if I do not tell you."

The mere hint of a secret cipher made her uneasy, reminding her of the many schemes in which her late husband had been involved.

"Ignorance will protect you," Walter insisted, just as Robert had once said. "You must trust me, Susanna."

"I do, Walter, but I would feel more confident of success if I knew-"

"You have said yourself that deception is not easy for you. 'Tis true. You lack skill as a liar. This way you can truthfully answer that you do not know what is in the packet."

"If I am so unsuited for this task, mayhap I should leave Topcliffe as soon as I have delivered it."

A darkening of Walter's features warned Susanna he did not like that suggestion. "Getting this letter into Northumberland's hands is the most important thing," he agreed, "but since they know already that you agreed to be a courier, and your arrival proves your loyalty, it should not be difficult to convince them you wish to stay on at Topcliffe rather than return to your husband."

"And then?"

"Mayhap nothing. If the conspiracy comes to naught, I will turn up at Topcliffe myself and pretend to beg my lady wife's forgiveness. You will come away with me and that will be the end of it. But if there is an uprising, you will be in a position to overhear information vital to putting it down. Listen and remember, and send word of all you learn to me."

"How am I to do that without arousing suspicion?"

"Within a day or two I will have my old contacts in place. I will dispatch someone to infiltrate Topcliffe."

"How will I know him? And how do you know whom to trust? You have been out of England for years. Allegiances change. Men turn traitor."

They had been conversing in low tones, sharing the bench before the hearth, heads close together. Susanna felt Walter stiffen at her suggestion. Although his expression remained enigmatic, she suspected she had touched on a sensitive point. He must have doubts of his own.

"The man I send will have this ring." He showed her the agate he wore on his left hand, a black stone with a distinctive banded pattern of milky opaline layers.

She smiled. "A pity I did not realize earlier that you had that stone. I'd have asked to borrow it. Agates, it is said, are a sovereign remedy against seasickness."

The answering smile she'd hoped for did not appear. "Trust no one else, except Lionel." Walter glanced at the young man, who had fallen asleep by the fire. "If you have information for me that cannot wait, if you should, for example, come upon incriminating doc.u.ments or letters proving the queen of Scots plotted with the conspirators, send Lionel to Streatlam, the manor belonging to Sir George Bowes. If I am not there, Bowes will know where to find me."

"Bowes," she mused. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

Belatedly, the fleeting sign of humor she'd hoped for earlier appeared on Walter's features. "We spoke on the s.h.i.+p of the way family connections link people together. There are times when the fate of the entire kingdom seems to depend less upon n.o.ble ideals than it does on the ties of kins.h.i.+p."

"True. And heralds are not the only ones who need to pay attention to genealogy." She was here, she reminded herself, because Eleanor claimed a distant kins.h.i.+p with the earl of Westmorland. "But what has that to do with Sir George Bowes?"

"He had a sister who married a Scot."

"Not so uncommon this close to the border."

"This is a particularly opinionated Scot by the name of Knox. John Knox. You may recall his work, my dear." Walter went so far as to chuckle. "You once had several copies of his book in your possession."

"The First Blast of the Trumpet Against the Monstrous Regiment of Women," Susanna murmured.

Walter might find the coincidence laughable, but neither the content of that polemic against government by women nor the use to which Susanna had once put it, using its text to send coded messages to her late husband, provoked any mirth in her. Rather, she was reminded yet again of the many hidden pitfalls ahead.

How, she wondered, had Eleanor ever found the courage to volunteer to go into the enemy camp alone? She must have believed implicitly in Walter's ability to rescue her.

That was the key, Susanna supposed. Walter had asked her to trust him, and she did.

She only wished he had it in him to return that trust.

Chapter 9.