Perfect Shadows (28 page)

“I’ll see to them and send Sir Thomas up to you—”

“Sir Thomas is already here,” said a cold voice from the door,
where Tom stood, arms folded, glowering at the scene before him. Southampton
flushed, probably remembering a number of times that Walsingham had been the
butt of his rather vicious humor.

“Jehan?” I asked, fear and anger distorting my voice.

“He and Sylvie are injured, but they are being cared for and
will be fine in a day or so. You have a good man there,” Tom added to
Southampton, somewhat grudgingly, and seemed surprised when he was returned
only a subdued acknowledgment, and not some sarcastic retort. “Sylvana was
harmed only in her dignity. They shut her in the big cloak-chest,” he said,
then whirled to face Roger who moaned and tried to stand. They both saw the
bodies on the floor at the same instant. Roger pressed the back of his hand to
his mouth and bit down hard as if to keep from screaming. Tom’s eyes narrowed
and flicked around the room, coming to rest finally on my bruised and naked
body. “Would someone kindly tell me what in the name of Christ has happened
here?”

“I fear it is somewhat complicated, Tom,” I said.

Sylvana, an older and somewhat stouter version of her daughter
Sylvie, chose that moment to appear in the doorway. She dropped a brief curtsey
then homed in on me. “I must speak private with you, my lord,” she said
determinedly. I shot a rueful glance at the others.

“If you would take Roger down to the study and keep him there,”
I said wearily, “I will join you as soon as I may.” Tom looked as if he were
about to protest, then shrugged and hauled Roger to his feet by one arm.
Southampton took the other and the two eyed each other warily for a moment
before towing their captive from the room. “Now, mistress, what is the matter?”

“Two things, my lord, and the first is this,” she spoke firmly,
advancing on me with a bared forearm. “If you intend to make it down that stair
without calling on your friends for help, you had best feed.” I nodded, but
ignored the proffered arm and pulled her down onto the bed beside me. She
kissed me gingerly, avoiding the hurts, and her body arched as my teeth found
the vein in her throat. When I pulled back she stared at me for a few seconds
through heavy-lidded eyes before shaking herself back to business. “Oh, yes,”
she spoke in confusion, “the second thing is . . . well, you had best come and
see for yourself. In the kitchen.”

I stood, finding that the pain had subsided a great deal. I was
stiff and it felt like a couple of ribs were cracked, but the fresh blood would
hasten my healing. Sylvana clucked at me, helping me to dress before leading me
into the kitchen at the back of the house. Three people waited there. I
recognized the big hostler from the inn where I had taken Roger the night that
his collarbone had been broken. With him were a younger man, little more than a
boy, really, and a young woman. The stableman cleared his throat awkwardly and
began to speak nervously, with a lilting musical accent.

“Name’s Bowen, my lord, Rhys Bowen, and this is my brother
Dickon and my sister Eden. You said I was to come, and I have, see.” I looked
in confusion at the three for a moment, then turned to Sylvana.

“I think that I had better sit,” I said faintly.

“Aye, that you better had,” Sylvana replied cryptically,
fetching me a stool. I sank onto it gratefully, as she turned back to the
others. “You best show him,” she said. The three looked at her dubiously, and
exchanged glances. Rhys shrugged, and then two of the three were enveloped in a
familiar silvery mist. Within seconds two wolves stood there before the fire,
feet tangled in the clothing they had worn, looking about and wagging uncertain
tails. The boy, Dickon, had not changed, and stood looking somewhat wistfully
at his siblings.” That’ll do,” Sylvana said, and they took their human forms
again, and started to dress without a trace of embarrassment or shame.

I passed a shaking hand over my forehead. “I see,” I said.

I left Sylvana to sort things out in the kitchen and made my rather
faltering way to the study. Roger sat slumped in a chair by the fire, his face
streaked with tears, Tom stood leaning against the wall by the door, and
Southampton lounged comfortably on a chest that sat under the only window large
enough to provide an exit. As I approached, I schooled my aching body into a
firmness I was far from feeling, then strolled over to where Roger sat, and
stood over him. Roger shot a sulky glance up at me through his wet lashes, then
let his eyes sink back to his hands, writhing on his lap like a nest of adders.

“What do you want,” he mumbled sullenly. I found myself
laughing. I drew a chair in close and leaned towards the boy.

“Why, Roger, you do owe me an apology, an explanation at least,
do you not?” I asked in a light and pleasant tone that in no way diminished the
underlying menace. “Why did you do it?” I added gently.

“You killed him! He—I need him, needed him. You wouldn’t have me
and then you killed
him
!” Almsbury drew a shuddering breath and glared
at me. I nodded thoughtfully.

“Go to sleep, Roger. I shall return to you presently. Now, go to
sleep.” My voice was quiet, and yet Southampton turned to look at me, as if he
heard a note of command there that disturbed him. Roger’s head lolled back and
he began a light sniffly snore. I stood and turned to the others. “Gentlemen, I
need your advice. Upstairs.”

Rhys awaited us in the bedchamber, where he had laid the corpses
out side by side. “My lord, I know these three. They do whatever they be paid
for, and the more hurtful the more they enjoys it. London’s a better place
without them, see. Best I should put them in the river now.”

Southampton cleared his throat. “Well, your grace, I have no
better advice to give. Give them to the river. I shouldn’t think that there’ll
be much outcry over the likes of them,” he finished and looked over at Sir
Thomas, who nodded mutely.

“I can help,” a low voice growled from the doorway and Jehan
stood there, a bandage around his head, eyeing Rhys distrustfully. Rhys
returned the stare, then stuck out his hand with a grin. Jehan stepped closer,
continuing his scrutiny, then his own face cracked into a smile, and he took
the callused hand, giving it a firm shake. “Jehan,” he said.

“Rhys,” the other answered, “You take the little ’un, then, you
bein’ hurt. I’ll get t’other, and we’ll come back and do the big ’un between
us.” That settled they shouldered their burdens and disappeared down the
passage, leaving us gaping behind them.

“God’s Lights, your grace, where
do
you find your
servants?” Southampton drawled in mock awe, and we all broke into laughter.

“Come back to the study,” I said genially. “I think that I can
find us something fit to drink.”

“Thank you, Kit, but I’ll just pick up what I came for and be
off,” Tom said, adding in a voice pitched for my ears alone. “Take care, Kit.
And I’ll stay if you think that I should.” I shook my head. Back in the study I
handed Tom a large packet of Rózsa’s manuscripts wrapped in oiled silk, then
saw him out to the courtyard.

“I’m going to be away for a time, up in Derbyshire. Rózsa’s
going with me, you know, so heed what I said and do not hesitate to send if you
need us,” Tom said. I agreed solemnly, and Tom leaned from the saddle to kiss
me good-bye, then reined his horse around and vanished into the night. I stood
for a few moments looking after him, steeling myself for the unpleasantness
ahead, and returned to the house.

Roger still slept in his chair. Southampton had pulled another
closer to the fire, and sat plying the poker among the coals. “If you could
find that wine, I’ll mull it,” he said without turning around. I came in and
stood behind his chair, resting my hands on the back of it. “I’ve bespoke it,”
I said and Sylvie, also bandaged, presently came in with a tray.

“Your men are in the kitchen, my lord,” she said, curtseying
shyly to Southampton. “We can put them up if you’ll be staying.”

“You are welcome to stay, my lord,” I added, and Southampton
twisted around in the chair to stare at me for a moment before replying.

“No, I think not, not tonight,” he said reluctantly. “If someone
could hail a boat, I think that we’ll go home by river, though, and leave the
horses until tomorrow.” Sylvie nodded and slipped from the room. “Your grace,
what I had come to tell you is that, as you may have gathered, Lord Selby died
last night after throwing himself into the river. The man’s last words were
evidently ‘Lovell’ and ‘Chelsey’, and your servant was seen taking him to the
inn. Robin— Essex—thinks to use this to discredit you at court, or at least
keep you away for an extended time and involved in scandal. Oh, he’ll not say
aught that you could challenge, or even trace back to him. But it
could—will—get ugly.”

“I had intended to withdraw myself from court again. Indeed, I
had not returned at all but that I got wind of your Robin’s plot to endanger
the Queen and advance his position by rescuing her. Or by not rescuing her. I’m
not sure if he knows himself which he intended,” I said. “You look shocked. Did
he not tell you?” Southampton shook his head, his handsome face pale.” Well,
perhaps then he tenders a better care of your honor than of his own. I learned
of the plot from Roger,” I added, answering the unspoken question, and
Southampton nodded.

“Roger,” he said flatly. “What do you intend to do with Roger?”

“Well, I do not intend to harm him, if that is your concern. You
are welcome to stay and watch, if it will set your mind at ease. Although,” I
continued,” it may not be pretty. I intend to find out his connection with
Selby, and I expect it to be a twisted one. If you do not care to stay, you may
come and collect him tomorrow.”

“I shall, or send someone. And you have my word of honor, your
grace, that nothing I have seen or heard here tonight will be passed on.” I
gazed at him, covertly noting the growing bulge at his groin. I knew that he
desired me, then, as he knew I desired him, and that the knowledge left him
flushed and shaking.

“I had not thought otherwise,” I smiled. “And it would please me
much if you, too, would call me Kit.”

It was close to the laggard December dawn before I sought my
bed, weary beyond belief. The story I had wrenched from the young man had
sickened me. Roger had been lured into going to Selby for a loan by the man’s
nephew Edward, at Selby’s instigation. It was not simple lust that drove the
older man, but the corruption or perversion of innocence that gave him his
greatest gratification, though in Roger’s case the intended victim had become
the willing pupil. Selby had watched me at court, and the combination of my
high position and the relentless sensuality of the vampire had aroused the
aging lecher until the desire to dominate and degrade me had become an
obsession.

My ultimate rejection of Roger without ever bedding him had
enraged and humiliated the boy, turning him into a willing accomplice, fed on
the promises of having me given over to his forcible attentions when Selby had
finished with me. He had correctly concluded from the man’s last words that the
plan had been put into motion that night, but had gone fatally awry, and he
blamed me for the man’s death, thinking me no better than a murderer. He had
not thought nor planned, had just found himself in the company of the three
ruffians, and had hired them to “do a job of work” for him. He hadn’t paid them
to kill, but wouldn’t have cried if they had. I took the memories from him,
suggesting, and doubly reinforcing the suggestion, that Roger had come to
Chelsey that night and drank himself into a stupor mourning his friend. He did
not, and would not, believe that I had had anything to do with Selby’s death.
He was given a large jug of sugared sack mixed with brandywine and allowed to
drink himself into oblivion.

Before I could seek my rest, there was still the matter of the
new servants to sort out, and I made my way into the large kitchen, where a
husky-sweet baritone voice was singing:

‘
To be a Scot’s whore and you’re fifteen years old,

And you were the fair flower of Northumberland.’

The
last word startled me so that I swung the door open with far more force than I
intended. I apologized and was given a seat by the fire and a cup of wine.

Rhys
told their complex story simply, that they had been driven from the mountains
of Wales and took refuge in the service of the Percy family. They had been
four, originally. Another sister, Eve, had disappeared shortly after they had
come south with the earl. He had told them that she had desired to return to
the north, and that he had sent her, but he hadn’t known that Dickon could read
and write. A letter sent to the priest at Alnwick had been answered in the
negative, and they feared their sister was dead. Thinking of that room with the
circle scribed into the floor and the bolts used to fasten shackles, I thought
I knew the fate that had overtaken the girl, and shivered. Perhaps she had been
too drugged to change her shape, for I couldn’t imagine Percy letting any of
them go if ever he discovered their nature. So they had fled Percy’s service,
Dickon working as a scrivener, Rhys as an hostler, and Eden at sewing and lace
making, but Percy had begun to seek after them. Hearing tavern gossip of the
rift between Northumberland and the foreign prince, Rhys had decided to take my
offer of employment, hoping that the protection such a position offered could
be extended to his family as well.