Free The Tudor Secret by C. W. Gortner

mine and Mistress Alice’s alone.
    I closed my eyes, removed my hand from my hose to press it to my pounding heart. As I felt the ring tucked there in my inner pocket, I suddenly realized I was in serious peril, hurled into a situation I had no means to survive. Something was happening, something terrible. I didn’t know what it was but somehow I had a part in it, and so, it seemed, did the princess. The Dudleys meant to do us both harm. And if I could find a way to warn her, then maybe—
    A blast of horns came from the gallery, and the duke marched to the dais. The hall went silent. I peered to the hearth, where Elizabeth stood motionless. The duchess of Suffolk had risen, as well; as her eyes met mine, fear stabbed through me and I shifted sideways, seeking the camouflage of the crowd.
    The duke’s speech carried into the hall. “His Majesty wishes to extend his gratitude to all those who’ve expressed concern over his health. It is at his request that I make this announcement.” He scoured the courtiers with his stare. “His Majesty is a benevolent prince, but he is most displeased by the rumors that have come to his attention. Contrary to those who dare speculate, he is well on his way to recovery. Indeed, at his physicians’ advice, he has retired to his palace at Greenwich, where he can hasten his cure. As a sign of his improvement, he also wishes it be known he’s given gracious consent to the marriage of my youngest son, Guilford Dudley, to his beloved cousin, Lady Jane Grey. Said union will be celebrated tomorrow night with festivities at Greenwich, where His Majesty himself will bless the couple. His Majesty commands we toast this joyous occasion.”
    A page hastened forth to hand the duke a goblet. He brandished it in the air. “To His Majesty’s health; may he long reign over us. God save King Edward the Sixth!”
    As if on cue servitors entered with platters of goblets. Courtiers rushed to snatch these, thrusting them upward. “To His Majesty!” they cried in unison.
    Northumberland gulped down his wine and abandoned the dais, proceeding from the hall with the lords of the council behind him, like dark leaves in his wake. From where I hid, I saw Lady Dudley follow, as well, but at a distance, accompanied by the glowering duchess of Suffolk. The duchess’s daughter, Jane Grey, was behind her mother, one tiny hand lost in Guilford’s as he strutted proudly, his father’s chosen link to the Tudor royal blood.
    The moment they exited, courtier turned to courtier like fishwives in a market, and I glanced in sudden painful understanding at the hearth. Ashen disbelief spread over Elizabeth’s face. Her goblet fell from her hand. Wine splashed across the floor, spattering her hem. Without warning, she whirled about and stalked out the nearest side door.
    The next minutes passed like years as I stood waiting to see if anyone would follow. The courtiers began to take their leave. No one seemed to notice that Elizabeth had left. I started to move to the door when I espied the princess’s attendant sidling up to a stark figure I failed to recognize at first. When I did, my heart lurched. It was Walsingham, Cecil’s associate. He and the girl exchanged a few words before they parted, Walsingham turning pointedly away. Neither showed any intention of following the princess.
    I slipped to the door. I didn’t see Master Shelton before he suddenly blocked my way. “I thought I told you to stay put. Or haven’t you found enough trouble for one night?”
    I met his bloodshot stare. He’d never given me cause to mistrust him. Yet he answered to Lady Dudley for everything he did; and in that moment all I saw was a reminder of the powerlessness I had felt all of my life. “Since you seem to know more about this so-called trouble than I do,” I retorted, “maybe you can explain it to me.”
    His voice turned ugly. “You ungrateful whelp, I don’t need to explain anything to you. But I’ll tell you this