Free Court of Conspiracy by April Taylor Page B

husband’s preoccupation with the succession.”
    She leaned her head against the high back of the settle. Luke could see the passion in her face and understood that if she were willing to unguard her countenance so far, then she had not undersold the danger.
    “If the plot comes from on high,” the Queen continued, “there will be evidence lower down. People in positions of power insulate themselves with inferiors. They work at a distance. All my energies must be devoted to keeping my son and his throne safe. In my position, I can do no more. You can. You must.”
    “But the grooms of the privy chamber are close to the King. They have his ear, his confidence and surely they also have the authority and knowledge to investigate quicker and better than I?”
    Queen Anne sprang to her feet. “The King may be the first in the land, but he—we—can trust no one. All positions at court are scrabbled for, fought over. Who can say which of them is true and which is not? Can you? His enemies are many, not just disaffected Catholics like my stepdaughter. We cannot let them triumph.” She swung round and sat down again. “My son and I are in need of your services, Master Ballard, although he may not know it. I can and will fight using everything in my power to safeguard him. Will you use your skills for us? Help keep King Henry IX on the throne and England secure?”
    Luke stared at the jars of herbs arranged neatly on the shelves behind the counter. She was confident of her power and seemed content to give him time to comprehend the extent of it. Finally he spoke.
    “If you truly believe I can help, then how can I refuse you, Your Grace?”
    “You cannot. There is no way out, Master Apothecary. I saw your thought a moment ago. You were right. You are indeed trapped.” She let the words hang in the air for a few moments. “Did you know that the King has been indisposed this week?”
    “There was talk in the kitchens that he had a chill, Your Grace.”
    “He had no chill. He had stomach cramps, as did the taster. I used my late husband’s chest of medicines and purged the King myself. One whiff of a gut cramp and he is like a child again, wanting none but his mother. Few people know the real cause of his indisposition. He tells me that the day before he was stricken, a woman threw herself on her knees in front of him on his way to evening prayer. Heaven knows how she gained entrance. The guards made to take her away, but she called on the King as a gentle knight to hear her. He did.”
    Luke guessed who it had been. “She was almost demented with grief, Your Grace.”
    “She was this Gethin’s mother,” the Queen continued as if he had not spoken. “Cried out that her boy would have died rather than hurt the King or his horse. Southampton made the jest that, in that case, the lad had nothing of which to complain and signaled to the guards to hustle her away. The next day, my son was writhing with the cramps.”
    “Prithee pardon, Your Grace, but I cannot think that was anything to do with Goodwife Pitt.”
    “Of course not. She was never nearer than a man’s length from him, but far too many people have access to the palace.”
    “Indeed, Your Grace. Including me?”
    She sniffed. “My Lord of Suffolk had no love for me,” she said. “But I know how grateful he and his wife were for your aid that day.”
    “And not only him, Your Grace.”
    She smiled. “I think his late Majesty lost enough children in his first marriage to know that grief too well. He was glad to grant your right of access on account of his friend.”
    Joss rose and padded into the kitchen. Luke stared after her for a few moments. “Excuse me, Your Grace,” he said, standing. Pippa was still seated at the table, but she was upright, her eyes wide open and staring at nothing. Joss settled herself at the girl’s side.
    Luke had not noticed that the Queen had followed him until she leaned over his shoulder. “So, your housekeeper also