Murder at Hatfield House (7 page)

Kate laughed at the word “fornicator,” shouted at them so furiously by Payne in the churchyard. And so ridiculous—Anthony had never so much as kissed her cheek. “He would consider it his duty as God’s instrument. And he is strong enough, though it doesn’t take enormous strength to wield a bow like that.”

“But he also wouldn’t scruple to admit it. The man cares naught for what happens to him.”

“Nay. I think he would welcome the stake. I just need to get him to talk longer, to admit it if he is the culprit. Perhaps there is some link between Master Payne and Lord Braceton? Mayhap Braceton is responsible for the deaths of some of Payne’s reformist friends. Or maybe . . .”

“Kate.” Anthony suddenly took her hand, swinging her around to face him. “You must not speak to him again. It would be too dangerous.”

She felt a sudden flash of warm anger flare through her at his stern words. She was not his wife—she was no man’s wife, and no one’s to command except her father’s. And he never tried to command her, which had given her a sense of her own mind. What right had Anthony to tell her she “must not” do something—especially when Payne seemed her only hope to find out what had happened on that dark road?

But then she saw the concern in his eyes, his beautiful green eyes, as he looked down at her, and her anger softened. She didn’t want to analyze why his concern, his protectiveness, moved her. Not now. Braceton’s attack was a thorny enough problem. How much more complex would a heart’s hidden desire be?

“I know you speak as my friend, Anthony,” she said as they walked on, side by side but not touching. She still remembered that shout of “Fornicators!” and wanted to attract no more gossip to Hatfield. “And I thank you for it. But I must help Princess Elizabeth if I can; she has been so kind to my father and me. And I am quite sure Master Payne knows something that would exonerate her of this attack.”

“Something that has already gotten one man killed,” Anthony muttered.

Kate swallowed hard. “I know that very well, and I shall always be careful. But as you said, these are dark days. We must all be prepared to defend what we believe in or all shall be lost.”

And she believed Elizabeth was the future. A future that was so near it seemed to shimmer just on the horizon—but it was not there yet. It could still all be snatched away.

“Then promise me one thing—as my friend,” he said.

“What is that?”

“That if you insist on finding Payne again, you will let me go with you.”

“I can’t let you put yourself in danger, not now when you are so close to going to London!”

“Then I will just follow you in secret. I won’t let you put yourself in harm’s way if I can help, Kate.”

She smiled at his words, and nodded. “Then I would be most grateful, truly, both for your sword-arm and your lawyer’s mind. I think it will take every ounce of both to wring a coherent answer from Master Payne.”

Anthony gave a wry laugh. “You have more than a touch of the lawyer’s mind yourself, Kate. You could certainly outstubborn any jury.”

“I shall take that as a compliment,” she said happily.

“And so you should, for I meant it as one,” Anthony said as they reached the edge of the village.

The road back to Hatfield stretched before them, the trees crowding thickly on either side as their leaves drifted down. “There is no one quite like you, Kate.” He squeezed her hand as they parted and gave her a dazzling smile.

At his words, Kate’s steps felt strangely lighter as she turned toward home. A faint ray of sunlight broke through the slate-colored clouds, casting shifting panels of pale yellow light on the muddy ground. Kate paused to let some of its watery, elusive warmth touch her skin. She would be shut up behind cold walls again soon enough, with Braceton and his men restricting everyone’s movements at Hatfield. Surely, for a few minutes, there was no need to hurry. She had so much to think about.

She sat down on a fallen log, tucking the folds of Elizabeth’s red cloak around her as she remembered the events of the day. The whole village seemed determined to go on as normal, despite Braceton and the death of his manservant. Except for the usual fears they always lived under in these dark days, there appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary in the cobbled lanes and busy shops.

That was odd. News and gossip were usually vital to everyone in such a small place. Why were they minding their own business now?

Surely someone knew far more than they were telling. The truth had to be close by. And despite the fact that Kate knew very well indeed that she should follow their example, keep her head down and say nothing, she couldn’t. Something inside of her, some spark of eager and dangerous curiosity that had been with her since she was a little girl, wouldn’t let her. All that had happened since Braceton burst into Hatfield was swirling around in her mind and wouldn’t be cast out.

They were all going to hell for their popish ways, she remembered Master Payne shouting, and when she closed her eyes she saw again his wild expression, the bony, trembling finger pointing at her. Mad he very well could be, just as everyone said. But mad people could sometimes see things others could not. And, even though Payne himself had been spared prison and the stake, surely many of his reformist friends had not. Maybe one of them was connected to Braceton. Maybe Payne thought God urged him to find revenge.

Before Kate could change her mind, she turned around and headed back the way she had come. But she didn’t return to the village. They were too closemouthed there at the moment. She went the opposite direction at the turn of the lane and headed into the cold shadows of the woods.

As the light was blotted out above her head, she shivered and pulled the warm cloak closer around her. She never liked venturing into the woods alone. There was a strange feeling along its pathways, the eerie sense that something was always watching from under the cover of trees and underbrush. That feeling was even stronger now that murder had been done nearby.

Kate pushed away the fear. She had to find out all she could; there was no time to cower when so much was at stake. Holding the hem of her skirt above the damp ground, she hurried in the direction of where she knew Master Payne had been living since his church was taken from him. It was said that he wasn’t there often, that he preferred to wander about shouting of sin and doom—which Kate could certainly attest to. Yet maybe she could find something there that would tell her if Master Payne knew more about what had happened to Braceton and his servant.

She found the old hut in a small clearing in the woods. It didn’t look as if anyone could possibly live there; the walls were tilted so precariously and the thatched roof sagged. No smoke came from the crumbling chimney. Kate crouched behind a tree and carefully examined the scene, listening closely for any hint of sound. She heard only the whistle of the wind in the bare branches.

She tiptoed closer and knocked on the splintered door. “Master Payne?” she called, pushing down the nervousness inside her. “Are you there? I mean you no harm; I only wish to talk to you for a moment. To talk about—about salvation.”

There was no answer. Kate tested the door latch and it turned under her hand. The door swung slowly open.

A terrible stench rolled out over her as she peered over the threshold, and she choked on it. But she forced herself to move forward against the smell and the darkness of the tiny space.

If Master Payne
was
hiding something, he had few enough places for it, Kate thought as her eyes adjusted to the gloom and she could see just how cramped, damp, and dusty it all was. A thin pallet was rolled up in a corner, and the fly-speckled remains of a meal sat on a rough-hewn table. The floor was hard-packed dirt, no room for a trapdoor. The only possible hiding place was a single old box in the corner.

Kate glanced back over her shoulder to the gray light of day beyond the door. Everything was silent and still out there, but surely it wouldn’t be for long. Even if Master Payne had gone off to harangue someone else, fired up by thoughts of sin and fornication, he would have to come home sometime. To hide from Braceton and his men, who would surely find him soon enough. And Kate had to be back at Hatfield before dark if she didn’t want to get into trouble herself.

She hurried over to pry open the lid of the box and peek inside. Another rolling wave of stink hit her in the face, and she pressed her sleeve to her nose. Through watery eyes, she saw the smell came from a pile of rusty old black clothes, a plain white surplice turned yellow from age. She quickly shoved the garments out of the way, and at the bottom of the box she found old books and papers.

Kate reached for the first one and turned it over in her hands. Tyndale’s English Bible, the leather cover stained. Kate gasped when she saw it, for this was the very first on Queen Mary’s list of forbidden books. A book that would get a person imprisoned, fined, even killed if he were caught with it. And Master Payne was hiding it almost in plain sight.

Except that no one dared come near him in his seeming madness. But how far would a madman go to protect such dangerous things?

Kate took a quick look at the other volumes and saw they were the same sort of thing. Foxe, Cranmer, all manner of German Protestant pamphlets. And one book she remembered Queen Catherine Parr and her ladies reading in the queen’s chamber so many years ago. She carefully opened it and read over one of the pages. The parchment was a bit water-stained and the ink had run a bit, yet still she could read the words.

In the margin, a wavering hand had written in pencil:
Sinners must pay, the righteous avenged
.

Something suddenly clattered outside the door, breaking the brittle silence around her. Kate’s breath caught in her throat at the shock, and the book tumbled from her hand. No one was there, but she knew they soon would be, and she dared no longer linger.

She hastily closed everything back in the box and ran out of the horrible little house, with all its darkness and secrets. She could see no one in the clearing, but she ran toward home anyway, still feeling the burning heat of who knew what in the woods.

Only when she was close to Hatfield’s gates did she dare slow down and try to catch her breath. Master Payne’s books were very dangerous, to be sure, but were they indeed some clue to Braceton’s servant’s death? Perhaps if she had more time to look at them—if she could bear to face the woods and the dank stench again, if Master Payne was gone for a time—she could find out more. Find if there was a connection between Payne and Braceton.

She was lost in her thoughts, but when she passed the gatehouse at Hatfield she glanced up at the blank gleam of the house’s windows in the sunset light. The sun skittered away and the cold wind caught at her cloak. It felt horribly as if someone watched her, the sensation palpable and physical as her skin prickled. She turned in a slow circle, trying to see if anyone was there. But there was no one.

No one at all.

CHAPTER 5

S
he was going to get them all killed.

The figure lurking behind the wall at Hatfield peered out at the courtyard, watching as the woman in the dark red cloak hurried toward the house. What was the foolish creature thinking to go sneaking about in the middle of the day? Princess or no, she was obviously losing her mind and dragging them all down with her.

Not that it would be such a terrible thing to lose her. There was always a long line of eager claimants ready to leap on the throne, and at this point one was as good as another. But it wasn’t time for this little adventure to end and Braceton to be gone. Not yet.

The lurking figure watched as the girl, the foolish princess in her pretty crimson cloak, stopped at the side door and glanced back over her shoulder as if to make sure she wasn’t followed. The hood didn’t fall back to show her red-gold hair, but who else would be running about in her fine cloak at that time of day? Elizabeth’s tale of being confined to her chamber sick with a headache was patently false.

Just like all her lies, her craven prevarications. She wasn’t worthy of her place, the position she had stolen.

She’d be sorry one day soon, the Boleyn bastard. All her vaunted cleverness couldn’t save her. But for now, she had to stay. Plans would take longer to come to fruition than intended—that was all.

The watching figure curled its gloved hand into a tight fist as a wave of cold, bitter frustration washed over them. Once word came that it was Lord Braceton sent to question Elizabeth, Braceton who was lurking in the neighborhood, all seemed set to finally fall into place. Braceton was not the largest prey, but he was assuredly one of those who had to pay. And his downfall would set so many others in motion, like a carefully arranged set of dominoes. It had all seemed so very easy.

Until the arrow went astray in the darkness. A terrible miscalculation, but not one that would be made again.

The girl in the red cloak slipped into the house and the garden was empty again. The drapery swung into place and the figure turned away. Failure again was simply impossible.

Braceton had to go. And Elizabeth with him.

*

Kate heard the shouts and sobs as she ran up the back stairs, and she felt the fear that had vanished all too briefly return. It seemed that their once quiet, if ever watchful, house was being turned upside down all over again.

She took off the princess’s cloak and draped it over the banister post as she listened carefully, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from and what might be going on. She heard Cora, the old cook, scream, “Not in my garden, you won’t!”

Kate turned on the landing and hurried back down into the kitchen. The cavernous space, usually warm and humid with cooking fires and pots of boiling soup, was cold and empty. The smoldering remains of a fire in the vast grate, usually assiduously tended, were down to mere cinders. A pot of stew congealed on its stirring spoon. Lumps of bread dough were deserted on the table.

There was a flicker of movement in one corner, and Kate spun around to see it was Ned, the kitchen boy. He huddled on the floor, his arms flung protectively over his head as silent tears rolled off his chin. She started to go to him, but another cry from outside made her run out the half-open door to the walled-in kitchen garden.