Face Down Before Rebel Hooves Part 5

Streatlam was st.u.r.dily if unimaginatively built of large blocks of stone. It stood in county Durham, poised between the high, desolate moorland of Yorks.h.i.+re and the Pennine Uplands. To Walter's surprise and pleasure, what he discovered inside did not echo the manor house's stark and uninviting exterior. Remarkable oak paneling and rich plaster work decorated the rooms. In the great hall the ceiling had a variety of curved surfaces. On one side a spreading vine tree filled in the panels that supported the ceiling ribs. The other side was balanced by an oak tree that seemed to spring from the angle of the room. In its branches, the artist had sculpted a squirrel eating a nut.

"Magnificent," he told Sir George.

"I seem to recall that as a young man you were sent to Italy to study architecture," Bowes replied, "therefore I take your praise as a high compliment indeed. But you have not come here to admire my ceilings, Sir Walter. What does bring you to Yorks.h.i.+re?"

"I heard rumors abroad that the earls of Northumberland and Westmorland are fomenting rebellion. That they plan to marry the duke of Norfolk to Mary of Scotland and put him on the throne in Elizabeth's place."

Sir George, a lean, hard man with small eyes and a full beard, grinned at him with undisguised glee. "They may have planned to do just that, but they've not much hope of success. The duke of Norfolk was clapt into the Tower of London more than three weeks ago and is like to remain there for some time to come."

Walter returned the smile. Whether the queen had acted on the warning he'd sent from Augsburg or some other intelligence, she'd successfully removed one of the two most serious threats to England's security. "What has been done about the two earls?"

"The queen," Bowes related, "wrote to a third, the earl of Suss.e.x, who serves as lord president of her council in the North, ordering him to summon Northumberland and Westmorland to the royal court, there to give account of themselves and their recent activities. Instead, Suss.e.x advised her to leave well enough alone and sent her a list of other men he deems more dangerous to the safety of the realm. Crookback Dacre, for one." Bowes grimaced when he spoke the name. Like Walter, he had crossed paths . . . and swords . . . with Leonard Dacre before. "Old Norton and his sons are also on the list."

"Is he yet living? The man must be close to ninety by now."

"Aye, and like to reach a hundred. He served as sheriff of Yorks.h.i.+re last year and executed his duties as well as a man half his age."

"Should the earl of Suss.e.x have included himself among potential rebels? It calls his loyalty into question when he gives the queen such unsound advice."

"His reasoning makes some sense. 'Tis already November. Who would be mad enough to leave a warm fireside and wage war in the north of England in winter?"

"You feel Suss.e.x can be trusted, then? That he will not betray the queen?"

Bowes shrugged. "In his tenure as lord president of the council in the North, he has shown himself a fair man. And just."

"But is he sound on matters of religion? If he has secret Catholic leanings, he might well be disposed to join the rebellion."

"As sound as any man whose wife's family supported the New Religion from the start."

"What of the queen of Scots? Is her prison secure?"

"She was moved to Tutbury Castle at the first hint of trouble. 'Tis well defended."

Bowes went on to confirm most of the other rumors Walter had heard as he pa.s.sed through the Yorks.h.i.+re countryside, but the latest news to reach Streatlam from London had come by way of York and was now more than a week old.

"I will go to York on the morrow," Walter said, "there to confer with Suss.e.x. But first I need pen and paper and the services of a dependable messenger."

If he knew court politics, the queen's advisers would be bogged down in endless debate, accomplis.h.i.+ng nothing. For that reason he intended to communicate directly with Queen Elizabeth. He'd take his authority only from her. He was certain Her Majesty would grant it, once he'd revealed the contents of the letter Susanna had taken to Topcliffe.

No one, not Susanna, not even the queen, would ever know he'd switched one message for another. If his gamble succeeded, if that subst.i.tution provoked an ill-conceived uprising now, when it could be defeated, instead of later, when a well-planned rebellion might succeed in toppling the throne, he'd have the satisfaction of knowing he'd saved England from civil war.

Chapter 10.

Topcliffe November 3, 1569 "There." Lionel pointed to what was clearly the tower of a fortified manor house.

Much as Susanna had expected from its name, the earl of Northumberland's stronghold, Topcliffe, was situated on an escarpment. Built of sandstone, with a slate roof and mullioned windows, it looked down upon the rus.h.i.+ng water of the fast-flowing River Swale.

A guard armed with a halberd stopped them at the gatehouse. Susanna met his cold gray stare with an imperious manner designed to send him scurrying for his superior. With both feet resting comfortably in a velvet sling, one knee in the hollow purpose-cut in her pommeled saddle, Susanna knew she gave an impression of confidence. Court ladies rode so, rather than on a pillion behind a man. Even mounted on a strange horse, one inclined to nip at anyone who came too close, she felt she had some control over her volatile situation.

Within a quarter of an hour, Lady Pendennis was announced in the great hall of Topcliffe, where the earl of Northumberland presided in regal splendor. His surroundings spoke of wealth and comfort. The hall was hung with a mult.i.tude of tapestries. His chair, which stood on the same dais that would, at mealtimes, hold a table, resembled a throne.

The earl's attire created an equally impressive effect. Attached to a black velvet jerkin edged with strands of gold bullion were sleeves of rose-colored satin. Hose, cap feather, and breeches all matched that shade. The latter were fas.h.i.+onably slashed, the cuts bound with gold to emphasize the white satin puffed out through the openings.

As Susanna approached, the earl turned large, close-set eyes her way, staring at her down his beak of a nose. Although a bevy of household officials and servants, some in Northumberland livery, others dressed in the fas.h.i.+on of the day, fluttered and squawked in his vicinity, the n.o.bleman ignored them to goggle at her.

Susanna met his gaze with more boldness than she felt, and as she continued to study him, she realized that his bearing did not match his trappings. His shoulders stooped. The expression on his face was vacuous rather than probing. He looked more like the lord of misrule at a Christmas feast than a true leader of men.

At his right hand was a short, fat tight-lipped man in priest's garb. The censorious look he sent Susanna made her far more uneasy than Northumberland's fixed stare. Would her impersonation be exposed before she'd begun? The prospect of being thrown out into the cold Yorks.h.i.+re night was unappealing. Even more so was the possibility she might be tossed into a makes.h.i.+ft gaol.

It was the man on Northumberland's left, rather than the priest, to whom the earl finally turned. "Deal with this woman, Carnaby."

A golden-haired giant of a man with hamlike hands, Carnaby had an air of insolence about him. He wore no livery but was clearly in the earl's service. Without hesitation, he stepped down from the dais and seized Susanna's elbow, forcing her to accompany him in the direction of an inner door.

Lionel attempted to intervene but was prevented by two st.u.r.dy henchmen. Fighting panic, Susanna dug in with her heels. She was no weakling. Halfway across the great hall, Carnaby abruptly abandoned the effort to remove her from the earl's presence. Thrusting his face close to hers, he growled a command. "State your business, madam. Then leave."

"I came here to deliver a packet to the earl." Susanna's chin lifted. Her voice contained a betraying tremor but by a supreme effort of will she managed to achieve a haughty tone. "I will not leave until I have given it into his hands."

"I will take it."

"You will not."

His grip on her elbow tightened to bruising force, but she thought she detected a gleam of reluctant admiration in his eyes. A moment later he was towing her toward a window alcove with ground eating strides. She went with less unwillingness this time, although his rapid pace made her stumble when she took an awkward step on the leg she'd injured years before. Cold, damp, and long hours in the saddle had aggravated the old wound.

Susanna told herself it made good sense to retreat to a place where they could talk privily. Catching Lionel's eye, she managed to send him a smile of rea.s.surance, but she felt far from confident.

"What manner of man chose you as his courier?" Carnaby demanded.

"Master Dartnall of Haug and Company."

A flicker of recognition greeted the name.

Susanna gave Carnaby's hand a pointed look. When he released her, she had to fight the urge to rub her tender elbow.

"How long since Dartnall entrusted you with this packet?"

"Some two months past." Susanna hoped Walter was wrong about her ability to lie. She'd not expected this particular question and was uncertain just how much before her accident Eleanor had been given the letter.

"It has taken you a great length of time to deliver, madam."

"Have you traveled abroad of late, sirrah? It is no short journey from Augsburg to the sea, and I was more than three weeks aboard a s.h.i.+p, after which it was another considerable undertaking to reach here from London."

His eyes widened at the mention of that city, then narrowed again with renewed suspicion. "Tell me, Lady Pendennis, where is your husband?" His hand strayed to the hilt of the dagger he wore at his waist. "I vow, he is a man I would like to meet."

"I do not know, nor do I care." Susanna's determination not to let Carnaby succeed in his blatant attempt to browbeat her put a snap in her voice.

"Indeed?"

"I have left my husband, Master Carnaby. How could I remain with a man who has gone to court to advocate the immediate execution of the queen of Scots?"

Apparently, this was the right thing to say. Within minutes, Susanna stood once more before the earl. At Carnaby's prompting, she produced the oilskin-wrapped parcel Dartnall had given to Eleanor. She had carried it, since leaving Walter's company, in a placket hidden in the folds of her cloak.

With a wave of one beringed hand, Northumberland sent a livery-clad page scurrying forward to retrieve it. A badge, the Percy lion engraved on a metal plate, was fastened to one of the hanging sleeves attached to the back of the armhole of his doublet.

As Susanna watched, breathless in antic.i.p.ation, the earl opened the packet and extracted a letter. His face fell. "In code." He thrust it at the rotund priest. "Translate it."

"What are we to do with Lady Pendennis?" Carnaby asked.

The earl's air of indecision increased. He toyed with the ends of his broad red-brown beard for a time, then offered up a tentative suggestion. "We offer you hospitality for the night, Lady Pendennis, and outriders when you continue on your way on the morrow."

"Your pardon, my lord, but I have nowhere to go if I leave here."

Carnaby whispered something in the earl's ear.

"Ah. Good." Northumberland turned back to Susanna. "I shall send you to my wife, Lady Pendennis. She will know what to do with you." Clapping his hands for the page, he instructed the boy to escort her to the countess.

Susanna bobbed a curtsey and hoped her relief did not show. Walking swiftly, she followed the lad out of the hall, along a narrow corridor, and up a flight of stairs that had been built into the outer wall of the three-story tower. A large bedchamber occupied the top floor, an imposing room dominated by a square-headed fireplace ornamented with more Percy lions.

The countess and her ladies were within, cl.u.s.tered about a woman sitting on a bench on the far side of the room. Her face was buried in her hands and she was sobbing. Preoccupied, no one paid any attention to Susanna, giving her an opportunity to study them.

Even from the back, there was no question which one was the countess. Her mode of dress was as distinguish as her husband's. A tube of finest silk trailed behind her French hood, concealing her hair and most of the ruff at her throat. Wide sleeves had been gathered up to reveal their lining of white damask. A Spanish farthingale displayed the rich brocade of her skirt to advantage. When the countess turned, Susanna's gaze followed the Kendall green fabric, admiring the way the overskirt divided down the front and folded back on itself to reveal a heavily embroidered cream-colored underskirt beneath.

"What do you know of diseases of the eye?" The countess's face above a partlet of fine lawn and a carcanet of emeralds and pearls was dominated by high, aristocratic cheekbones and a small, perfectly shaped mouth.

"What is it you require, my lady?" Susanna was a skilled herbalist, but Eleanor had not been. She'd used her stillroom to produce scented waters.

"Something to stay a rheum's defluction. Naught we have tried has alleviated Mistress Carnaby's discomfort or restored her sight."

Carnaby? Was this the wife of the brutish man she'd encountered in the great hall? Her sympathy already engaged, Susanna stepped closer, but what she saw when she got her first good look at the woman's affliction was not encouraging. The rheum was mixed with phlegm and had produced cataract films, pins, and webs.

Susanna had always read widely, devouring in particular any book that dealt with herbal lore or medicine. She had also talked to countless cunning women, adding their recipes and their wisdom, handed down from mother to daughter, to her own store of knowledge. But she was neither physician nor surgeon, and some things could not be cured even by one of those learned men.

"What remedies have you tried?" she asked Mistress Carnaby, hoping Eleanor's lack of expertise on the subject was not widely known.

"I washed mine eye with a water made of a gallon of strong ale, a handful of c.u.min, and as much salt."

Susanna had to strain to hear the soft-spoken words. "Distilled in a limbeck?"

"Aye." Mistress Carnaby attempted a smile. "It did sting mightily."

"What else?"

Another of the waiting gentlewomen spoke up. "Celandine, rue, chervil, plantain, anise, and fennel, stamped all together. We let the mixture stand all night and anointed her eye with it this morning."

"Such remedies are all very well for bleared eyes," Susanna murmured, "but for the pin and web in the eye, where a film spreads from a central point, stronger medicine is needed, and even that may not help."

With a gentle touch, she lifted the eyelid, tilting Mistress Carnaby's head so that the light from the window fell onto the afflicted area.

"A simple drying medicine, comfortable to the eye itself, may give some relief. I can make one from the white of a roasted egg and a little white copperas. A drop at a time, the liquid produced when those two ingredients have been violently strained through a fine cloth, is put into the eye."

Mistress Carnaby winced, but the countess had no qualms about proceeding. "Roast an egg, Kelke," she ordered one of her chamberers.

While her order was being carried out, Lady Northumberland drew Susanna apart from the others.

"Who are you, madam?"

"Eleanor Pendennis, my lady. I brought a message to the earl. From Augsburg."

"Ah! Lady Pendennis." From her tone of voice, the countess not only knew who Eleanor was but was unsurprised by her arrival. "I had all but given up on you, madam."

"There were . . . delays."

"But you did bring something to us from the Continent?"

"Aye, my lady. The earl has it. Or, rather, he gave it to the priest to decode."

"Do you know what message it contains?"

"Oh, no, my lady. How could I? Indeed, I was instructed not to open the packet."

"In other words, you did open it, only to discover that you could not break the code."

Susanna started to deny the charge, then thought better of doing so. Certes, anyone in her position would have been tempted to look. There was no harm in admitting to this particular frailty. "'Twas most galling," she confided. "I should like, someday, to know what it was I carried, for in serving as a courier, I abandoned my old life. I cannot return to my husband after this."

"Egg's ready, my lady," Kelke announced.

While Susanna prepared the medicine, the countess left the chamber. By the time she returned an hour later, Susanna had learned that Mistress Carnaby was the widow of Guy Carnaby's brother, Ranulf, and that Carnaby was one of the earl's secretaries.

"You brought tidings from the duke of Alba, Spanish military leader in the Netherlands," the countess informed Susanna. "Excellent tidings."

"I am pleased to hear it, my lady."

So that was it, she thought. The conspirators must plan to orchestrate an invasion that would coincide with their uprising. Walter had been right. The Crown was in danger.

"You will also be pleased, I hope, to join my household as a waiting gentlewoman. As such, you may stay with us as long as you like."

Susanna was pleased, and said so. Yet she was also plagued by the thought that there were a great many more questions she should have asked Walter before she agreed to spy for him.

Chapter 11.