Perfect Shadows Part 12

Chapter 13.

Percy smiled to himself, watching Sommers and the groom cross the quad of the old Abbey to the solar, a writhing bundle athwart the groom's shoulders. He could see Sommer's grin despite the dismal morning light; it had gone well, then. Ess.e.x waited behind him, toasting the chill of the morning ride out of his fingers. He turned to his guest, excusing himself. He would have the wench brought here; it would never do to have his brother-in-law see the interior of his study. "I think that you had better be seated, Robert," Percy said softly upon his return a few minutes later. Ess.e.x looked puzzled, but complied, choosing a settle not far from the meager fire. After one or two false starts Northumberland cleared his throat, saying abruptly "This is not easy for me to say."

"Obviously," Ess.e.x retorted sourly. He did not much care for his sister Dorothy's miserly husband, and resented needing his help in the matter of their common enemy, the foreign prince. Before replying Percy narrowed his eyes until they looked like the chewed pits of olives.

"It seems that we have misjudged our foe. He is a greater danger, a greater evil, than we had imagined," he intoned, never taking those murky eyes from his guest. "Do you remember meeting my little cousin Margaret here last month?" he added in an apparent change of subject. Ess.e.x nodded, somewhat confused, and Percy clapped his hands sharply. The door swung open, and a groom deposited a large bundle before the fire, and left the room as Newman Sommers entered. Ess.e.x stiffened. He despised the scholar; something about him p.r.i.c.kled the hairs on the back of his neck, raising his hackles as if he were a hound. Then the bundle moved, claiming his attention.

It was Margaret, but not the quiet and demure girl that Robin remembered. Her face was streaked with mud, her hair full of twigs and leaves, but her eyes had undergone the greatest change. They were mad and calculating at the same time. As she sat up the cloak fell from her naked shoulders, but instead of being embarra.s.sed, she smiled, leaning towards Robin and licking her lips, raising her hands, her bound hands, he realized with a start, up to caress her nipples.

"G.o.d's Teeth," he choked out through his rising gorge. "What has happened to her?" Sommers squatted next to her, nearly unbalanced by his crippled foot and leg. Margaret grasped his hand, placing it on her breast and whimpered when he removed it.

"Now, Maudie, you must tell us what has happened to you," he spoke coaxingly, as to a child. She gazed uncomprehending for a moment, then dropped her eyes to the fire. When she looked up she was smiling.

"I met him," she whispered. "I met the Black Man in the forest. I signed his book. Oh, he was beautiful, though he had but one eye. Did G.o.d put his other eye out when He cast my Lord from heaven?"

"Perhaps. It was the one-eyed lord that tied you up?" Sommers hinted.

"Oh yes. He tied me up, and he . . . we did such things! We did such unspeakable things. I signed his book. I signed it in my blood." She held up a finger, stained and swollen.

"Did he tie you with these scarves?" the ugly man persisted, loosening the bonds that held the girl's wrists. She nodded dreamily, and he held the scarf out to Ess.e.x. He recognized it: a length of black samite that her majesty had given to the prince at his return to court after his "illness". Her hands free, Margaret made short work of the scarf binding her feet, and when she was free she threw herself upon Ess.e.x, driving her tongue deep into his mouth, and thrusting her small hands into his clothing in search of his manhood. He pushed her away in disgust, back to Sommers, who caught her and held her naked body against his side, letting her kiss and maul him.

"Take her away," Northumberland snapped, and Sommers led her from the room, his fingers as busy with her as hers were with him. "You see? This Krytof, if he is a prince, then he is a Prince of h.e.l.l, a vile conjurer, using his powers to corrupt the innocent, and enlist them into the legions of Satan. He must be denounced, and destroyed. You do agree?" Ess.e.x nodded, feeling numb and sick. Something about the scene niggled at him, something that he could not quite place. Grimly he rose and strode from the room, without a word. He wanted out of that house, away from Percy and especially Sommers, whom he could hear, even through the closed door, grunting out his foul l.u.s.t on that hapless young woman.

Ralegh sat in the window seat of his study, smoking and watching the blue of the winter sky pale into the silver that presaged snow. There was a disturbance in the courtyard, and Bess was at the chamber door even as he leaned forward to look. "It is my lord Ess.e.x," she breathed, and indeed he could make out Ess.e.x dismounting. Sir Walter opened the cas.e.m.e.nt to lean into the biting air. "Come up, my lord!" he bellowed, his words seeming to hang in the still air even as his breath did. Ess.e.x looked up and waved, then disappeared under the arch of the door.

Ralegh turned to his wife, bidding her to meet his guest, and to bespeak the servants for hot drink and more fuel for the fire. She smiled uncertainly at him for a moment, then went without a word. She grew more beautiful by the day, he reflected, and every day he loved her the more, never regretting an atom of the trouble their love had brought him at the hands of his jealous queen. He looked up from his thoughts to find Ess.e.x standing in the doorway.

Minutes later they were seated, Ess.e.x with his long legs stretched out to thaw his toes comfortably in the borrowed slippers while his damp boots dried. He fingered the pot-bellied pewter cup he held, grateful for the warmth of the mulled cider and mead that it held, but more than a little contemptuous of his host. He would never have served a guest, especially a rival, with such homely fare, he mused. But Ralegh did just as he pleased, and it seemed that what pleased him was a gossip cup and Banbury cake toasted at the fire. Sir Walter watched his guest begin to relax, and when the cake was finished he refilled the cups from the flagon on the hearth and offered a pipe, then settled back to listen, first with polite interest then growing horror as Ess.e.x related his tale.

"I realized as I rode from that scene of abomination what had struck me amiss with that account, Sir Walter. The blood was still running from that mangled fingertip, yet Percy spoke as if the la.s.s had been seduced or abducted weeks ago. Hal has been much in the company of the prince, and has not spoken of anything unholy, or even untoward in the man, yet someone corrupted that young woman, and if not he, then who? I would see Krytof brought low, it is true, but not-not like that. It is monstrous! Monstrous!

"I would have you speak to him, to warn him. You have toiled mightily these months past to bring Cecil and I into accord, and I would not be in your debt. I know that this man is a friend of yours, and I fear that Cecil will not be too particular in the evidence he sifts," Ess.e.x added, rising from his seat. "I will go now to Hal, and warn him. And, Sir Walter, there is something amiss with that companion of Harry's. He is like some fell, poisonous beast, and I shuddered when he touched that wench, defiled and mad as she was," he finished, stamping his feet into his boots to emphasize his words. He turned on the threshold, with the charming smile that had won him so much and yet would cost him so dearly. "There was a time, Ralegh, when I thought that we could be friends. I am sometimes sorry that it was not to be." He was gone before Ralegh, remembering those desperate hours at Cadiz, could reply. Sir Walter looked at the sky, and, judging that the snow would hold off for a few hours, called for his horse to be saddled. He would not ride to Chelsey, but to visit Harry Percy.

Percy received him with outward cordiality, but Sir Walter knew that he seethed inside at this interruption. Of what he might be interrupting, Ralegh did not care to think. Harry had wine brought to the study where he received his guest, but did not inquire whether or not he had yet supped. Ralegh stretched his hands to the mean little fire, ignoring the wine, which he knew from previous experience would be thin and sour. Everything about the man was shabby and mean, Sir Walter snorted to himself. He was one of the richest peers in England, but you would never know it, and yet there was a fine intellect there. He turned his attention to Harry, who asked him directly what had brought him.

Before he could answer the door burst open and a naked wench tumbled into the room, the meager firelight gleaming on her fine skin, marred here and there by bite-marks and bruises. She saw the stranger and rushed to him, wantonly shaking her ripe b.r.e.a.s.t.s close to his face, reaching for his crotch with one hand and fingering herself with the other, laughing wildly.

"Jesu!" Ralegh pushed himself away from her, knocking over the stool he had occupied in his haste to distance himself from this shameless succubus, as horrified by the mad light in her eyes as by her actions. Harry was shouting, and two serving-men rushed in, catching the woman and dragging her from the room, one of them pinching her nipple with a free hand, while twisting her arm painfully all the while. Another man pushed past them into the room, an ugly man of medium height who walked with a limp. Northumberland spoke angrily to him in an undertone while Ralegh righted the stool and downed the cup of vinegary wine in a single gulp. He turned as Harry introduced the newcomer, and was instantly repelled by the man, whom he knew must be the companion that Ess.e.x had mentioned. The man's manners were impeccable, but Sir Walter's skin crawled at the touch of his hand, and he found himself surrept.i.tiously wiping his own against his canions, as if to remove that contaminating touch. The man's soul seemed to peer out of those pallid eyes like a mad animal peering out of a hole in a bank. Percy was muttering something about owing an explanation. Sir Walter nodded absently. "An you think it possible," he answered dubiously.

Hal rode through the chill dusk, reaching the house in Chelsey just as the first flakes of snow began to fall. The man, Rhys, took his reins and motioned him towards the house. As Hal stepped into the dim light of the hall he saw Richard leaving the study and called to him, asking after Krytof. The handsome boy gave a sullen flick of his hand towards the room behind him and turned to go. Hal caught his shoulder, spinning him around and clouting him soundly over the ear. "You will find him in the study, my lord," he hissed, releasing him with a shove towards the kitchens.

"You will find him in the study, my lord," Richard parroted tonelessly, and made his escape.

Hal pushed the door ajar to find Kit sitting at the table poring over the large account books, much as a wounded man will pick at scabs. He looked up and smiled.

"Why, Hal, what brings you to Chelsey in such weather? Sit and warm yourself," he added, stepping to the door, where Sylvie met him with a tray of mulled wine and the little comfit cakes that Hal loved. She was smitten with Hal, and he was not unaware of the fact. She moved a small table closer to the fire and set the tray upon it, her movements deft and graceful. Then she knelt and began to tug at his damp, cold boots. Hal resisted a moment, then relaxed.

"I shall not return to London tonight after all," he said decidedly. "The snow gives a perfect excuse." When Sylvie finished and left the room he turned to Kit, telling the tale that Robin had told to him. Before he had done, Sylvie had returned in distress, saying that Richard had gone, and had taken the earl's horse.

Richard had no clear plan, no idea where to go or even why he had taken the horse and ridden furiously from that house. The blow that he had received from the contemptuous earl had knocked all reason from his head. He allowed the horse to slow to a walk and turned his head to peer behind him, but he saw no signs of pursuit. Stopping, he listened intently, but he heard only the faint clicking sounds from the frozen branches overhead. The boy s.h.i.+vered suddenly, wis.h.i.+ng that he had thought to s.n.a.t.c.h up a cloak on his way out. The horse sidled under him, and he nudged it into a walk, giving it its head.

His thoughts turned to the house that he had left, and to the master of that house. He had felt the seductive lure of the man, if you could call him a man any longer, and had been torn between jealousy and disgust at the liaison between the vampire and the foolish earl, who had not the sense to know that he was being fed upon. Or maybe he did, and it was worth it to him? Richard recalled the angered vampire's words to him - "I could show you what I am, Richard, and make you like it, make you crave it above all else, if I so chose," - and the young man s.h.i.+vered again, but not with the cold.

It was nearing the late winter dawn when Richard woke from a stupor engendered by the cold to find that he was in the courtyard of a fine house, a house near the river. He realized with a start that the horse had brought him into the outskirts of London, to its own stable. He slid from the saddle, and tottered for a moment, his legs unsteady from the cold and the long ride. A torch flared in his face and he jerked back as a rough voice sounded loudly in his ear.

"Here now, you young villain, what be you doin' with my lord's horse? Here, not so fast, th' earl'll want a word with you." Hard hands grasped his shoulders and spun him about, shoving him at two other men who were coming across the courtyard towards him. He struggled, but they held him fast, twisting his arms behind him until he cried out. He had fleeting glimpses of kitchens and pa.s.sages, then steep stairs down into the darkness, and a small cellar room where he was flung into the gloom, hitting the floor hard enough to knock the wind out of him. The door was firmly shut and locked upon him, and the flicker of the torchlight faded from under the door as the footmen retreated back up the stairs.

It was hours later that he was hauled up to stand before the Earl of Ess.e.x, held tightly between the two men that had tossed him into the cellar. Ess.e.x viewed him with distaste, then looked beyond to someone who had entered the room behind him. Richard craned his neck to see who was standing there, and almost fainted at the sight of the stooping sandy-haired man who smiled back at him, followed closely by a red headed man with powerful shoulders and a p.r.o.nounced limp.

"Well, d.i.c.kon, my lad, I see you have not forgotten your old benefactor. It is lucky that one of my grooms spotted you and told me that you were here, is it not? Else I might never have known," he laid a menacing hand on the quailing boy's shoulder, and turned to Ess.e.x. "Yes, Robin, as I thought, it is my runaway servant, and glad I am to get him back. I think it would be best if we say that the horse returned of itself, which is no more than the truth, after all. We need not mention that the lad was upon it at the time. I would prefer his whereabouts remain a mystery for the time being. I suppose that your men can hold their tongues?" he added, eyeing the grooms who exchanged swift glances, then looked impa.s.sively straight ahead.

"Of course, Harry. You think to use-"Robin broke off with a knowing smile at a nod from his brother-in-law. "I see. Well, take him with you, if you will. Do you wish him bound?"

"I think it best," Northumberland answered, snapping his fingers at the limping man who had remained by the door. He crossed the room with a feral grin, and pulled a handful of braided cords from a fold of his cloak. The cords were tied cruelly tight, cutting into the boy's wrists, causing him to bite his lip in an effort not to cry out.

Northumberland waited a moment then checked the bonds, and clucked reprovingly at Sommers. "Now, Doctor, we do not wish to cripple the boy, at least not yet. Loosen these a bit for now. Of course if he refuses to cooperate, you may then have a free rein to practice upon him. But I expect you will cooperate, won't you, d.i.c.kon? Yes, I think that you will." Sommers loosened the cords a fraction, then knelt to tie the boy's ankles, adding another set of cords above the knee, and reaching a surrept.i.tious hand to caress a b.u.t.tock. Richard cried out, flinching away from his tormentor, and earning a casual backhanded blow from Northumberland that sent the tears streaming from his eyes. Sommers laughed softly, and rising to his feet, pulled a kerchief from his sleeve and stuffed the captive's mouth with it, binding it in place with a second one offered by the earl. He then m.u.f.fled the boy in the cloak brought for the purpose and chopped him expertly behind the ear. The footmen caught him as he fell and carried him to the cart that waited below.

Chapter 14.

Jehan and Rhys returned just before dawn, stumbling with weariness as they made their way to the study where I awaited them, sitting alone before the fire. Hal had retired some time before with Sylvie to console him. I motioned the tired men to take seats by the fire, and poured them wine. "Well?" I said.

"There was not snow enough to hide the scent, my lord. The horse went straight back to my lord Ess.e.x, and was in the stable yard before we caught up. The boy was hauled off him and locked away, and messengers were sent out. One'll be here directly, and one went another way. Eden betook to follow that one." Jehan spoke quietly, Rhys nodded in agreement, but kept his troubled gaze locked on the fire. I stood abruptly and crossed the room to the door, turning back at the threshold to speak.

"I must rest now. I suggest you do the same, and let Sylvana deal with the earl's messenger. And Rhys? We will get him back, and that soon, I do promise you." Rhys jerked his gaze from the fire at the sound of his name, and nodded slowly at my words.

"Thank you, my lord," he said.

Hal had sent a letter to make his final plea that I join him at the Masque the following night, and to tell me that though the horse had returned to Ess.e.x House, its rider had not come there. Eden read the missive aloud to me, and a gasp of indignation broke through her normal reserve as she snapped sharply "That's a lie!", before crumpling the paper and tossing it onto the fire. I nodded thoughtfully. In her wolf-shape, she had followed the messenger to Percy's town house, and the earl back to Ess.e.x House. She had seen the bundle loaded into the cart, and her keen wolf's nose had identified her half-brother. She had followed again, to Malvern Hall, watching impotently as the helpless boy fought his captors only to fall unconscious from a vicious blow. She had taken to her paws then, and run all the way back to Chelsey, to sit now bone-weary and sipping brandy before the fire. She had missed the commotion caused by Ess.e.x' messenger, as had I, lost in the thrall of the day-trance.

The man, disbelieving Sylvana as to the well-being of the earl, had pushed his way upstairs, and burst into the room Southampton occupied. He'd found his master's friend disporting himself with Sylvie, and most irate at being disturbed. Blundering back out of the room, the groom had trodden heavily on the tail of Jehan, who had stationed himself outside my door. The large wolf, irritable from lack of sleep, had slashed the messenger from knee to ankle, and only the high boots the man wore had saved him from a serious injury. As it was, he bled profusely from the long flesh wound, and had bawled like a calf. Sylvana had bandaged the man's wound and hastily st.i.tched the soft leather of his boot back together while Southampton berated him. Hal ordered a boat to take himself and the unfortunate groom back to Ess.e.x House, instructing Rhys to care for the horse, which would be called for later. That evening, I had been unable to stifle a grin when the tale was relayed to me by an exasperated Sylvana and a somewhat sheepish Jehan, though I sobered at the news that Eden brought.

"Tomorrow night," I repeated over the protests of the siblings. "Tomorrow night is Twelfth Night. Northumberland will be at court, and I have told Hal to look for me there as well, so they will not expect us to strike, even if they thought that we knew where they had the boy. I do not think that they will harm him so soon. Here is what we will do," and I outlined my plan.

Chapter 15.

Richard cursed himself for a fool a hundred times over in the hour that followed his awakening in the b.u.mping cart. What had it mattered if the scornful earl had given him a buffet? He swallowed fretfully; the gag was slowly strangling him, and he almost wished it would. How could he have been such a fool? He felt the cart jolt over cobbles, hard hands lifting him, and found it impossible not to struggle against them. He welcomed the blow that sent him back into unconsciousness.

When he woke the second time the choking gag was gone, as were the biting cords. As he stretched he discovered that his clothing had also been removed and he had been shackled hand and foot. The rough straw beneath him stung his skin, and the room was dank and cold. A little dim light found its way in through a grating set high in the wall above his head, along with a faint breath of damp air and the smell of the jakes. He realized that he had had nothing to eat since noon the day before, and was uncomfortably aware of his own need for the jakes when the low door before him opened soundlessly admitting the red-haired man, who held a smoking tallow candle. He leered at the naked form cowering before him and licked his dry lips once or twice before speaking.

"Well, d.i.c.kon my lad-it is d.i.c.kon is it not? Come along my lad, my lord wishes to speak to you," he said jovially, but there was a dry insinuating rasp to his tone that sent his victim cringing against the wall. The crippled man darted forward, caught the chain between the manacles that encircled the prisoner's wrists, and hauled the boy to his feet. Sommers half dragged him up two flights of stairs, through twisting pa.s.sages and into a large vaulted room that might once have been an old chapel, where he shoved the boy down into the rushes at his master's feet. The earl, sitting in a large chair at one end of the room surveyed the prisoner with a smile.

"You see, my little Welsh lamb, you really cannot escape me, after all," Northumberland said softly. "But you need not fear me, boy, I will not hurt you, unless I am forced to do so. I am your friend, you know. I will protect you from him." Richard struggled to his feet and flicked a glance at Sommers who lounged against a nearby wall, warming his hands over one of the braziers that served to heat the large room. "Oh, no, child, Sommers will not hurt you. I meant the man who names himself Prince Krytof. You know what he is, do you not? How he preys upon the living, drinking their very blood? Yes, I thought so," the earl's voice had dropped even lower, so that Richard had to lean forward to catch the words. "He is a servant of h.e.l.l, Richard. He would seduce you, drive you into sin and madness, as he has done my pretty young cousin. But we will stop him, and you will help us." There were little flecks of spittle on the thin lips, and that serpent's tongue flicked over them, driving Richard back in disgust.

"No," he heard himself saying, clenching his fingers over the chains that bound him. Like a cat, Sommers crossed the room behind him, and drove a fist hard as a stone into his kidney. Richard folded to the floor, blinded by the pain, and realized with humiliation that he had lost control of his bladder. The earl laughed softly.

"Oh, I think yes." He motioned to Sommers, who hauled the boy over to an alcove and there fastened his shackles to rings set into the floor. "Come now, Sommers," he added when the man had finished his task, "we must ready ourselves for tomorrow night's masque. The lad will do well enough here, for the time being.

Richard tossed on the polluted rushes beneath him, the worse for the filth he had perforce added himself, itching from the vermin that swarmed over him. Tears ran unchecked from his eyes, and he needed to blow his nose. He had never been so dirty, so utterly wretched, in his life. A light shone softly from the door, and a draft of clean outdoor air struck him. A woman crossed swiftly to him, and his heart leapt, thinking that she had come to free him. She set the candle she carried on the floor near him, and turned to examine him by its flickering light. She was young, he saw, and very nearly as dirty as he was himself. Her tongue flicked over her lips for a second, then she leaned over him, bringing her mouth to his and thrusting her tongue deep into his mouth. He flinched, jerking his head away from the obscene touch, and she laughed. Sitting back on her heels she threw back the surcoat that was her only garment. She fondled her b.r.e.a.s.t.s then leaned forward again, and when he turned his face from her she jerked his head around by the hair, shoving her nipple against his mouth as he opened it to cry out at the sudden pain. Anger flooded over him, and he bit hard, tasting her blood and spitting it into the rushes as she rocked away from him. He saw a figure behind her, and recognized the man Sommers, whose fingers closed around the woman's throat, dragging her back and away from her intended victim.

"You stupid s.l.u.t," the man muttered under his breath, "you want him to kill us all?" He tangled one hand in her hair, and fumbled at his own clothing with the other. Freeing himself from his breeches he slapped her hard, sending her sprawling to the floor beside Richard, who watched in horror and revulsion as the crippled man violently plunged himself into the small woman again and again. She clawed at him, not to fight him, but to goad him to further violence, Richard realized, and he began to retch uncontrollably, the bile spilling from his mouth to pool under his head.

Sommers had barely uttered the bellow that marked his release when Northumberland strode cursing into the chapel, thrusting the torch he carried into a bracket near the door and motioning the men who followed him to pull the two apart and stand them before him. "G.o.dd.a.m.n you, Sommers, if you've allowed this wh.o.r.e to ruin the boy, you'll take his place tomorrow night, and you know what that will mean. You've seen what happens when the offering is defiled, and this time it will be you!"

The earl, quivering with rage, knelt by the boy and began to speak soothingly to him. When the boy had calmed, he began to question him. Satisfied, he turned back to the lewd pair. "No real harm done, this time," he admitted grudgingly. "But keep that s.l.u.t locked up! No one is to touch him until after the ceremony tomorrow night. Did you hear me, d.i.c.kon? You must be virgin when the demon comes for you. Your sister was not, you know," and his voice sank to a whisper as he recounted to the helpless boy the horror of Eve's last hours. Richard was crying uncontrollably as Percy rose stiffly to his feet and turned to one of the grooms. "You, Amyas, stay here and watch him. If he starts to sleep, wake him. He is not to sleep, do you hear?" a.s.sured that his orders would be obeyed, he motioned the two holding Sommers to release him, and the company left the chapel. The man designated to stay and watch Richard sat himself comfortably close by, and settled in to wait for the morning.

It was nearly noon before Percy returned to the chapel. Well fed and rested, he stood for a moment just inside the door to listen to the quiet sobbing of his captive, nodding his approval. With a few words he made his wants known to the guard, and began to turn the narrow irons and adjust the small crucible of molten lead in the brazier that the man moved near to the prisoner. A pity, really, that he had such a short time to enjoy questioning the boy, but he doubted that anything he could devise would make the slightest impression on the lad when this night's work was done, supposing that he in fact survived it. Sommers entered shortly with pen and ink, and began to take down the answers in the barely legible scrawl that was all his untutored hands could produce. By late afternoon they had some twelve pages, as brutal a tale of witchcraft, sodomy, and b.e.s.t.i.a.lity as the earl's twisted mind could devise.

Richard had lost consciousness, his chest a ma.s.s of burns, but his face untouched. Percy hauled himself stiffly to his feet, noting the time with dismay. Without ceremony he jerked Sommers off the floor and shoved him towards the door, pausing only long enough to rouse the boy and allow him a deep drink from a prepared cup. They had to make the chamber ready for the ceremony, then dress and ride to Whitehall. Cecil would be waiting for the results of the day's labor.

Northumberland, dressed as the Grand Inquisitor, a costume that afforded him no little amus.e.m.e.nt when he recalled that afternoon's occupations, made his way to Cecil's chamber, with Sommers, dressed as a devil, in tow. Robert Cecil, in his usual sober attire, allowed himself a slight smile at the sight of his visitors before turning to business and reading the pages Percy thrust into his hands. "Yes," he said, as he perused them slowly. "Yes, this will do nicely. You have the girl safe? I will send for her after the arrest tonight. I think that the boy had best be-unavailable. I am informed that the prince intends to grace us with his presence tonight after all. My lord Almsbury knows his part, and the trap is set." Almsbury stepped out of the shadows near the window, dressed in Southampton's costume, with an auburn wig hiding his bright hair. Percy nodded in comprehension. This night would prove interesting indeed. He only hoped that the trap could be sprung before he had to return to Malvern Hall, to complete the ritual that he and Sommers had prepared before they left. Dark of the moon and Twelfth Night was not a combination to waste.

Maudie slipped naked through the cloister towards the chapel. It had been an easy thing to escape her cell, an invitation to the guard, a clout behind his ear. She was small, but strong, and the Devil had promised her all she wanted. And she wanted him, that pretty, unhappy boy who did not want her. It did not matter, the Cloven Hoof had taught her well, and she could make him rise to her purposes. She licked her dry lips and vanished into the chapel like a small white ghost.

Ess.e.x's costume was a great success. The flowery speech he made to old Bess took her by surprise, disarming her temper even as the gifts of gold and topaz and amber, laid at her feet as the tribute of the sun, engaged her greed. He only half listened to her extempore speech of acceptance as the familiar cla.s.sical references and phrases in Latin and Greek rolled over him. He was waiting, straining every nerve to hear the signal that would mean the trap was ready to spring. He would take the foolish old woman by the hand and lead her to the chamber where her foreign favorite practiced his unnatural l.u.s.ts on another man, stand by her as the sodomite was arrested, and his servant's accusation of witchcraft was read aloud before the court. He thought uncomfortably of Hal for a moment, those glaring eyes over the scarf that kept him silent, bound as he was to a bed in a locked room at Ess.e.x house. But he could be made to understand the necessity later: he could not appear at the Masque in the costume that Almsbury would wear later for the prince's arrest. It would do Hal no good if the Queen deduced precisely whom the prince thought he was meeting in that room. Almsbury had his own reasons for playing the victim, reasons that Ess.e.x did not care to plumb. There, she'd finished at last, and he took his place at her side, scanning the crowd for the foreign prince. Would the cur never appear?

Richard awoke from a drugged and feverish half-dream of pain and despair to a reality that was worse. He could smell her in the darkness even before he felt her hands upon him. He had been given another drink of the acrid tasting liquid before being tied to the bare floor in the center of the large room, spread within some hastily chalked lines, and left there as the light grew dim, and dimmer still, until finally the darkness was absolute. He had given up any thought of rescue when the previous night had brought none, and now he was willing himself to die.

He was a failure at that, as well as everything else he had turned a hand to, he noted bitterly, as his heart went on beating and his lungs kept pus.h.i.+ng his tortured chest up and down. Then he had felt the slight breath from the door, and smelled the madwoman's unpleasant musk as she reached him, touching him and muttering in the dark. With horror he felt himself rising to her skilled fingers and mouth, felt a biting pain as she bound his stiffened manhood with a cord, then pushed herself down onto his unwilling but responsive flesh, her nails raking the raw burns on his chest. His body arched beneath her, a m.u.f.fled scream fighting the silken stuff they had used to gag him, and he thought that he would black out then. He prayed to a G.o.d he no longer believed in to free him somehow, to let him die before the earl returned and fed his defiled and living flesh to the vengeful demon. She fumbled behind her, jerking away the cord that bound his manhood, and the sudden sharp pain brought the release he fought against. He felt his seed shooting into her, dooming him irrevocably to the ultimate horror that had claimed his sister's life and eternally d.a.m.ned her immortal soul.

Chapter 16.

Malvern was dark, except for the kitchens where the servants held their revels. I slid from the saddle, ground-tying the horse near the door to the chapel. The wolves flowed around my feet as I made my way to the ma.s.sive door. I expected to find it locked, but it swung open silently at a touch. There were sounds in the darkness within.

My vampire's sight picked out the scene in the middle of the chapel floor as though it were bright moonlight. I recognized the madwoman from the forest, and I crossed the room swiftly and silently, to pluck her from the tormented body she mounted; with a deft twist I broke her neck and let her fall. The wolves were all around now, nuzzling and licking at Richard, who had fainted as his tormentor was pulled free of him. I examined the shackles that held the lad, pleased to see that my strength was more than adequate to free the boy. Jehan and Rhys had a.s.sumed their human forms, and Rhys gently gathered his half-brother into his arms, wrapping him in the cloak that I slipped from my shoulders and wordlessly handed over. Sylvie and Eden, with a female's intuition of what had occurred and its probable effect on Richard, kept to their wolf shapes and took up posts on either side of the door.

Jehan helped me fit the dead girl into shackles, stuffing her slack mouth with the gag taken from Richard, then gathered whatever he could find that would burn, piling the soiled rushes around the body while I made a swift survey of the earl's library. I could not tell one from another, and though I hated burning books, hated it with a pa.s.sion that knotted my guts, I knew I must. I could not take both the boy and the books on a single horse. I shrugged and poured the oils and aqua vitae from the worktable liberally over the books and the rushes. I added a trail of black powder from my flask, then pulled the unloaded snaphaunce pistol from my belt and used it to strike a spark. I ran from the chapel, and swung into the saddle, reaching to take the boy from Rhys and arranging the unconscious form in front of me before spurring the agitated horse away into the darkness. Scarcely a minute had pa.s.sed before the shouts and turmoil behind us told me that the fire had been discovered. I settled the boy more firmly against me and urged the horse on, with the surging shadows of the wolves at our heels.

I had just lowered the unconscious Richard from my horse to the waiting arms of his brother when I stiffened and looked wildly over my shoulder, back toward London. I gave hurried instructions to care for the boy, and turned the horse back the way we had come, but Rhys tangled a hand in the reins, nearly dropping his brother in the process. "You'll need afresh mount, my lord," he grunted, and Jehan stepped forward, indicating with a jerk of his head to Rhys that he would see to it. I paced nervously while the fresh horse was readied, swinging into the saddle to spur the animal into a canter before we had cleared the courtyard.

The call was plain, tugging at me, guiding me. It was Hal, of course, and something was wrong, more than just being lied to about my attendance at the Masque. I followed that inner call, not to Whitehall, as I had expected, but to Ess.e.x house, in the Strand. There was revelry in the kitchens here, too, and the porter nodded in his cups at his post. I left the horse in the shadow of the wall and slipped past the drunken man like a wraith. The call was plainer inside, and I made my way up the dark stairs and through several rooms to a locked door at the end. The door was made of stout oak panels with a heavy iron lock affixed to it. I was happy to see that I would not have to try my strength against those thick planks-the key was in the lock.

The lock turned easily, but the hinges made a faint protesting squeak as I slowly pushed the door open. There, in the light of a wildly guttering candle, I saw Hal, the lower half of his face m.u.f.fled by a gag, his eyes nearly starting from his head as he watched the slow swing of the door. He recognized me and sagged against the ropes that held his hands bound over his head to the heavy bedstead. Swiftly crossing the room, I pulled the scarf from his face, plucking the gag from his mouth, and paused a second to kiss his bloodless lips before setting to work on the ropes.

"Thank G.o.d you are here, Kit! They took my costume to trap you, Robin and Cecil. Robin said I would come to thank him for his saving of me, when I understood it," Hal said hoa.r.s.ely, the words tumbling from him. He was clad only in his s.h.i.+rt and hose, and fumbled around on the floor for the rest of his clothing. "How did you know? Thank G.o.d you did not go-did you go to Whitehall? What has happened?" he shrugged into the doublet, ignoring the points that would tie it to the trunk-hose he pulled over his long legs. He stamped his feet into his boots and s.n.a.t.c.hed the cloak that I held out to him.

"It's rather a long story, I fear, too long to tell you now. We should go." He nodded, and followed me from the room. The porter still dozed at the door, but as I stepped into the courtyard I saw a groom leading my horse in through the gate. The man had probably stepped out to relieve himself and spotted the animal. I cursed my luck and lunged forward, my fist connecting solidly with the man's face. I felt bones break beneath my hand, and my opponent slumped to the ground. The porter roused, opening his mouth to cry out, and Hal spun lightly, las.h.i.+ng out and dropping him neatly across the threshold.

He turned back to see me awkwardly trying to tie a kerchief around my bleeding hand while holding the reins of the shying horse. Hal took the cloth, and raised my hand to his lips for a moment, to lick the bittersweet blood from my wound before binding it. I leaned forward to kiss him deeply, tasting my own blood in my lover's mouth, then mounted and reached down to pull him up pillion behind me. I could hear raucous shouting from the kitchens, rude comments about the size of the missing man's bladder, as we bounded away into the darkness.

Chapter 17.

Northumberland gazed at the smoldering ruin with unseeing eyes. The faltering servant had told him how the building had seemed engulfed within seconds of the blaze being discovered, how the intensity of the heat had forestalled the attempts to quench the fire, and how a blast had rocked the ground and shattered the windows of facing buildings. The latter did not surprise him, as he had had powder stored there in the chapel. He stood stolidly, waiting for the embers to cool enough to permit examination of the ruins. Sommers appeared at his elbow, muttering curses under his breath.

"She's gone, my lord. Maudie's gone. The groom that had the watching of her said that she vanished during the confusion of the fire. I set the men to search for her," Sommers gabbled hoa.r.s.ely. He knew, none better, the purpose of the night's thwarted ritual. They had but a few hours before dawn, before the moon turned its phase, in which to accomplish that purpose. He s.h.i.+fted his weight from his deformed foot, and tried to frame the words to remind Northumberland that their time was short. The earl turned his pebbly eyes on his companion for a few seconds, then looked back at the destruction before him.

"It matters not, old friend. There will be other nights, after all." He stepped forward, but the ashes under the soles of his thin court shoes were still too hot for comfort, driving him back. He strode away to the house without another word.

Hours later, sifting the ruins with the help of Sommers and two trusted grooms, Percy came upon the pitiful remains shackled to the floor; the bones were seared and twisted, the fetters buckled by the heat, and the lot crushed by fallen beams. The earl stood and brushed the soot from his clothing, giving instructions that the bones be removed and thrown into the river without delay. The sound of hooves caught his attention, and he turned to find a groom approaching dressed in the livery of his brother-in-law Ess.e.x.

Robert Devereux, second Earl of Ess.e.x, paced in his study much as the captive animals in the Tower menagerie paced their cages, occasionally throwing himself down to rest, only to be up and pacing again but moments later. At a diffident knock he threw the door open violently, sending the startled groom leaping back into the pa.s.sage. The man handed over the folded paper that he held then vanished towards the kitchens. Ess.e.x broke the seal, stepping to the window to read Northumberland's message. He crumpled the paper and tossed it into the fire with a curse. Would no one help him? He had returned last night in a foul mood: the deceitful prince had not come to Whitehall after all, and the strain of waiting had made him irritable and sulky, which caused the Queen to remark acerbically upon his temper and increase his ill-humor.

He had returned to free Hal from his confinement, and to try to explain what had driven him to such extraordinary measures, only to find the captive gone. The servants were in an uproar, having found one of their number dead in the courtyard, drowned in the blood from his shattered face. The porter had been rendered unconscious, and had, upon awakening, identified the Earl of Southampton as his a.s.sailant.

"Well, jolly Robin, is there something you wish to tell me?" Ess.e.x whirled at the sound of Hal's honey and acid voice, and gaped at the long pistol held leveled at his heart.

"Do you intend to shoot me then, Hal," Ess.e.x asked, managing a tone of polite inquiry even though his heart was thumping against his ribs like a rabbit in a box. He crossed to the heavily carved sideboard and poured two gla.s.ses of wine, intensely aware of the pistol swiveling to follow him.

"Not at all, Robin," Hal answered easily. "I merely intend to keep myself free of your enforced hospitality while you try to satisfactorily explain last night's mummery to me." Ess.e.x set the gla.s.s within Hal's reach and retreated to the other side of the room. "I am waiting, Robin. You a.s.sured me last night that when you made your reasons plain I would agree with you. I doubt very much that I will, but I am sure that I shall enjoy your efforts." Ess.e.x gulped his wine, then laid bare the bones of the plot against the foreign prince.

"So, you see, Hal, it was to keep you safe. Cecil will bring him down, and I did not wish that you be caught in the ruin. He has bewitched you, of that I am certain. How did you get loose, last night? Was he here? Did he kill my groom? Old Tip, the porter, says that you hit him, and that he did not see anyone else. I reported that the man had been set upon by ruffians, because I thought that you had killed him, but it was Krytof, wasn't it?" Though the fire cast little heat to the far side of the room, a sheen of sweat glistened on Robin's brow. Hal considered his friend for a time before replying.

"No, Robin, it was I. I worked the knots loose and when the groom tried to hinder me, I killed him, or left him to die, it comes to the same thing. If you wish to alter the tale that you told to the watch, you will find me with Krytof." He shoved the unloaded pistol through his baldric and departed the house without another word, leaving Robin to his uncomfortable thoughts.

Chapter 18.

I sat in the brightly lit room where the unconscious boy rested, the cause of his coma obvious in the odor of the drugs borne on his shallow breath. He had scarcely stirred when Sylvana had cleaned and dressed the burns on his chest, and had lain still and pale all the day with only the faintest sign of breath on a mirror to show that he lived. His breathing had deepened as night fell though still feeble, and he stirred now and then. I had sent the exhausted Rhys to rest, but the man would obey no further than to doze in his wolf 's shape near the fire. Many candles had been lit and the sweet smell of the wax blended agreeably with the fruitwood of the fire, and the kettle of broth that warmed there. When Richard cried out and struggled out of his dark dream I was holding him even as he opened his eyes, and the candles served to allay his fears almost at once. He collapsed sobbing against my chest, clinging as a small child will when delivered out of a nightmare.