Free Taste of Treason by April Taylor Page B

tables and the lids lifted off at the same instant.
    As a spectacle, Gwenette thought that few ceremonies bettered it. The gold trim on the sleeves of the pages glittered in the glow of the candles, sending shards of white light shooting across the wall hangings. Shining silver lids magnified the candles’ radiance until the whole room seemed bathed in bright sunshine. At a signal, the pages bent and lifted the lids from the platters with a flourish.
    After one moment of frozen horror writ clear on the diners’ faces, screams rent the air. Men and women sprang away from the tables, trampling each other in their haste to flee, thrusting aside any who hindered their passage.
    The King leapt to his feet, and it was only supreme discipline that kept Gwenette standing immobile behind Queen Anne. For instead of revealing elaborately adorned roast swans and peacocks, the removal of the lids let loose hundreds upon hundreds of frogs. All alive, jumping in every direction, but especially towards the astounded monarch.

Chapter Eight
    Luke walked home feeling that his victory was a Pyrrhic one.
    “I didn’t do that very well, girl,” he said to Joss. “Indeed I seem to specialize in making enemies. First Nimrod, now Frayner. There’s a man who will never be happy unless he is causing grief to some poor soul who has no power.” He shook his head before a new thought struck him, one that made him chuckle. “Having to adhere to the new rules for priests must be like swallowing nails. How I would love to see him confront Archbishop Cranmer.”
    All knew the depth of Henry’s adherence to the new faith. As well as devising a new prayer book, something with which the King had been much involved, Cranmer had recently decreed that priests could marry. Vociferous protests from Catholics had been countered by an official decree that marriage was a gift from God, not a state for weak-minded men. To Luke, it appeared perfectly logical. How could any priest understand the problems that beset families when he had no experience of them?
    Protestantism seemed unstoppable. Even James of Scotland had been happy to compromise his faith and that of his daughter so long as there was the likelihood of a Stuart grandson of his sitting on the English throne. If achieving that meant Madeleine converting, so be it.
    Luke wondered how that knowledge resonated with Reynard, the Queen’s confessor. Not well, he conjectured. Henry’s influence over Madeleine grew daily. Luke prayed that when the inevitable occurred, Father Reynard would accept it with good grace.
    Once home, Luke sat near the fire, staring into the flames and trying to make sense of his jumbled thoughts. He was seldom as ill at ease as this after a day’s work. Mayhap now he had settled his body into repose, he could permit his mind full rein to ponder on the disquieting events of the last twenty-four hours.
    His gaze rested on Rob, tongue protruding in concentration, ostensibly studying his letters at the table. He had expressed a wish to help Luke more in the shop and for that, he needed not just to read and write but also to perform basic calculations. Luke was aware that the boy’s focus was divided for he glanced up from time to time, a look of concern on his face.
    “Keep your mind on your words, lad. They deserve better than half your attention.”
    “It’s you, Luke. You sit as if your chair were a skittish mare and you unsure how to handle her.”
    Luke sprang to his feet just as his vision began to falter.
    “Something is afoot. I thought it was the residue of a busy day, but it is...” He felt rather than saw Rob’s hands steer him back to the chair and the weight of Joss’s head on his leg. Then darkness overtook him.
    He found himself in a beam of white light that rendered his surroundings even darker than they already were. Looking around, he surmised he was in a chamber. His nostrils were assailed by the smell of rotting flesh, so much so that he covered his nose