Free The Queene's Cure by Karen Harper Page A

could easily find out what we were doing here,” Ned grumbled. “It doesn't pay to lie or be secretive in this instance. We've even tipped off the eminent physicians. I noted more than one of them staring out at us when we first came, though I haven't seen a face at a window for a good hour.”
    “Probably part of her plan, to rattle them,” Jenks said smugly. “Wait till they see Cecil on their doorstep later, eh?”
    As they headed away, their horses nearly knocked down a young, blue-coated apprentice as he ran pell-mell from one of the narrow alleys into the street. “Ho, can you tell me if I'm too late for the queen's kindness then?” he called to them. “My master wouldn't let me go two days in a row, so I sneaked out.”
    They reigned in, and Ned leaned an arm on his pommel to bend down to regard the man at closer range. “You saw the queen here yesterday, did you?”
    “Aye, first time 'cause he always keeps me working. Pewtersmith's man I am, down on Cheapside next to the Rose and Thorn. Say,” he said, looking up at Jenks, “you were in her procession. You the guard wedded to that cloaked maid in the crowd, the one with sunset hair like Her Majesty's?”
    Ned and Jenks exchanged quick glances. “Hair the color of the queen's, you say?” Ned asked.
    “Certes, in a cloak and hood. Standing in the alley, shewas. And then run off when I said she looked like the queen.”
    “Not just hair hue, but the maid's face too?” Ned prompted.
    The lad frowned and scratched his head right through his cap. “Aye, that's the way of it though none's so fair as our fair queen.”
    “Well said, man,” Ned said and flipped him a groat. He caught it easily and bit it to be certain it was real. Ned thought that one piece of information just might make up for the wasted saffron cakes they'd passed out to the rabble. This man had given them something to go on, though Jenks might not have caught the import of it.
    “That girl in the street could have been Meg,” Jenks blurted out to dash his hopes, “though I suppose other maids have the queen's coloring too. But our old friend would never do a thing to hurt Her Grace. Meg yet loves her dear so there's no motive, as Cecil would say.”
    “Of course not,” Ned clipped out and turned away before he rolled his eyes at the man's stupidity. When the apprentice hurried off and Jenks spurred his horse, Ned yelled, “Stay!”
    “Me? Stay why?” Jenks challenged, pulling up.
    “I believe you should stay behind and knock on a few of those house doors. It was a good suggestion you had— to do it now.”
    “
I
should? And what of you then?”
    “Her Majesty would certainly trust that task to youalone, and I am certain you will do a fine job of it. I'll ride a bit down these narrow alleys to see if there is a discarded trunk or large sack in which that effigy might have been carried. I'll meet you back at Whitehall.”
    Before Jenks could protest, Ned wheeled away. He'd make short shrift of the alleys all right, because he had a visit to make he didn't want Jenks or the queen to know a thing about.

    K AT ASHLEY, WITH ANNE CAREY AS COMPANION, RODE toward the vast manors and privy apartments in the enclave called Blackfriars, once a massive monastery. After the dissolution of the Catholic Church's vast holdings in England, the crown had taken over such church property for its own use.
    Westminster Abbey, on the far side of Whitehall, had become a Protestant church and a secular college. To the east, prime Thames-side land once boasting the chapel, cloisters, gardens, and dormitories of the black-garbed friars was now the elite environs of important court personages like the Careys. The monks' former supply rooms, infirmary, and sanctuaries also provided extra storage for royal barge trappings, masque and pageant properties, and, as was Tudor tradition, the great royal wardrobe. Though the queen's seasonal gowns and accessories were kept in her palace of current residence,that