Conspiracy (14 page)

Well, that was very exciting, although I fear I am in disgrace again. Here I am sitting on the bed, scribbling, as the other Maids of Honour come clattering up the stairs. I must speak to the Queen as soon as she has finished being undressed.

As soon as we had finished rehearsing, we had our hair dressed and then we gathered in readiness to go downstairs, the Queen among us. Sarah looked wonderful with all her red hair dressed with diamonds, and when she paraded along with her head up, she did look quite a lot like the Queen. She waited in the Queen's Withdrawing Chamber while the Queen came with the rest of us, trailing green satin leaves.

We processed into the Hall, which was full of all the courtiers and Swedish gentlemen and some of the local gentry as well. The musicians were tucked in a corner, so close together they could hardly move their arms. The long evening sun was glancing in through the stained-glass windows, shining on the Dudley coats of arms and pedigrees and giving a warm golden glow to everything.

The music struck up. We danced the first figure.
Then in came Sarah, with Mary arranging her train, and everyone kneeled to her—including the Queen herself! (Which made Carmina and Penelope giggle and almost spoiled the trick.)

As we paced through the next bit of the dance, which I knew, I watched the Queen out of the corner of my eye. She is a very good dancer, but she has something else which Sarah doesn't, and I don't know what it is. You just want to watch her arid not anybody else.

When it came to the time for taking partners, there was Prince Sven, very gallantly offering the Queen of the May his hand and whirling her around him, while Sarah giggled that infectious laugh of hers.

I caught sight of the Earl of Leicester, who was watching her and frowning slightly. He shook his head, almost imperceptibly, then looked carefully at the rest of us Maids and Ladies-in-Waiting. I knew at once when he had finally spotted the Queen: his eyes rested on her, narrowed, and then he smiled.

He went up to her, bowed and offered her his hand. The Queen curtsied and took it and so they danced together, perfectly in tune, as if they were one person, dancing by themselves in an unimportant
corner, with nobody but me bothering to watch.

Meanwhile, Prince Sven was showing off how well he could jump, and Sarah was being very impressed. Even when she's pretending to be the Queen she can't help being Sarah, can she?

The Queen and the Earl of Leicester saw how attentive Prince Sven was being to the false Queen of the May, and they looked at each other and smiled as they whirled in the figures of the dance.

When that part of the masque finished, I stood on a table to make my speech—I'm quite good at reciting, even when the poetry's terrible. I had just launched into it when I felt John watching me, and that made me pause for a moment—I don't know why, I just lost track of where I was. But then I caught myself and went on,
Eliza'ing
all over the place, until I saw someone waving from the back of the Hall, which distracted me again.

I stared for a moment, and realized it was Ellie. She was pointing at something, and then at her mouth and then at the Queen. I had no idea what she thought she was doing—she really shouldn't even have been there, for the household servants don't attend masques and bankets, except to hand round food and so on. She waved her arms even more when
I frowned in puzzlement, and as I had to concentrate to get the last bit of the speech right, I gave up trying to understand and looked away.

The end of my speech was all about the Bear with the Ragged Staff, which is the badge of the Earls of Warwick. Earl of Warwick is one of the titles the Queen has given to Robert Dudley, the Earl of Leicester. And my speech finished by my telling how the bear would gladly give his head to entertain and delight the Queen. I shouted it out, while the amazing marchpane and sugar-plate subtlety of the bear— which I had slightly damaged—was brought in on a shield by two serving men. Then two of the squires approached the bear with large knives, and cut off the whole head!

Inside were little wrapped gifts, which the squires started throwing to all the dryads and naiads. Lady Jane and Carmina had an unseemly scuffle over one package with a bracelet in it, hissing, “It's mine!” and, “No, it's mine! I saw it first!” like children.

I completely missed the one thrown at me, but someone picked it up for me and I saw that it was John, bowing and smiling as he handed it to me. “My lady, here is your trinket,” he said.

And then I heard Ellie shouting, “My lady! My Lady Grace, 'ere—quick!”

Her voice sounded quite desperate, so I curtsied to John and, sighing, turned to where Ellie had managed to sidle round the room. She had her hand to her mouth and I wondered why. Then, as I made my way over to her, I saw that she was using a piece of scrap cloth to dab at a really nasty cut on her lip.

“What happened?” I asked. “Who hurt you?”

I couldn't hear her reply, because at that moment there was a big blast of music, and a choir of boys started to sing of how the stars would fall for shame in comparison with the beauty of the Queen of the May, the fair Eliza.

I drew closer. Ellie had something in her other hand—it looked like a bit of bark with something glittering in it.

“There's glass in the bear, broken glass …,” she said urgently.

For a moment I just stared stupidly. What was she saying? I looked at the thing she was waving, and suddenly realized it was the bear's ear from the subtlety—with Ellie's toothmarks in it—and, glittering in the middle, several shards of broken glass!

I felt my back and belly go icy-cold with horror. I picked it up to take a closer look. There was no mistake—long, sharp pieces of glass were poking out of the sugary almond mixture.

“Look! It's filli of glass!” said Ellie, taking the cloth away from her mouth. “It really hurts. Stop the Queen from eating it….”

The world seemed to slow down as I span round to look for the Queen. I stared across the Hall. There was Sarah, very graciously enthroned under her Cloth of Estate as the Queen of the May, with Prince Sven standing handsomely beside her. She was thoroughly enjoying herself, being Queen for a day, and she was laughing as the squires paraded towards her with the head of the bear. One of them used a fancy Italian fork to cut a slice from the subtlety and offer it to her—

I shouted, “Stop, don't eat it!”

But the choir was still singing. She couldn't hear a word. And she loves sweetmeats.

I picked up my skirts, satin leaves and streamers and all, and ran between all the servants, the courtiers, and the ladies, to where Lady Sarah sat happily, about to accept the forkful of marchpane.

“Stop!” I shouted again, as she took it from the fork.

A few people were turning now, but they were laughing, thinking this was part of the masque. So I threw myself at Sarah, nearly slipping on some silk
flowers, and whacked the bit of marchpane out of her hand so that it flew across the room.

If I hadn't been a girl—and therefore not as much of a threat to the Queen as a man—I think I might have been killed! All the gentlemen of the Queen's Guard had their swords out to defend Her Majesty; all the courtiers and the Swedish gentlemen drew as well, and the nearest two gentlemen shouted and reached for me. I didn't want to blurt out why I had done it, though, because I felt sure the Queen would want to keep it quiet, just as she had all the other so-called accidents.

Sarah was staring at me, holding the hand I had whacked. And then, as I looked at her, an idea suddenly came to me. I put my hand to my forehead, said loudly, “Oh dear, I feel very dizzy!” and dropped to the floor in the dramatic swoon we had practised earlier.

Sarah leaned over in astonishment as I collapsed, and I whispered to her, “Don't eat the bear, it's got glass in it!” and then let my head fall back and shut my eyes.

I lay still, listening hard. First, I could hear all the swords being hastily put away, and then Mary, and someone else, wearing Sarah's kirtle—but oh, of
course, it was the Queen, pretending to be Sarah-bent over me.

The Queen was now in a furious temper with me for making such a scene. “Your Majesty,” she said to Sarah, in cold ringing tones that should have given the game away to anyone with half a brain. “I shall go with her and see if the cool air amends her humours.”

“Thank you, your, um, my lady,” said Sarah, with as much dignity as she could muster.

Two of the gentlemen gripped hands, seated me on them, and carried me out of the Hall to the greensward outside, where they laid me down.

“She will be well enough,” said the Queen. “Pray go back and join the dancing.”

They went, because it would never occur to anyone not to do as she says, even when she's pretending to be ordinary.

“I know perfectly well there is nothing wrong with you, Grace,” growled the Queen to me. “What in the Devil's name was all that mummery about? And incidentally, do not even
think
of joining a troupe of players, for you will starve in a month.”

I opened my eyes and still couldn't see, so I rearranged my dryad's mask and sat up a bit. Mary
Shelton and the Queen were both looking at me quizzically.

“I had to do it, “four Majesty,” I said. “There's broken glass in that marchpane subtlety and I had to stop poor Lady Sarah from biting into it.”

“What?”
exclaimed the Queen.

I showed her the bit of subtlety Ellie had showed me. In fact, in my mad dash across the Hall, Ihad gripped it so tightly I had cut myself on it.

The Queen took it from me and looked closely. “Good God!” she said. “How did you get this?”

“Urn … it fell off the subtlety by accident, and my friend Ellie—”

“Never mind,” whispered the Queen quickly. “It's enough that you found it out. And although I wasn't very impressed with your swoon, in the heat of the moment it was quite a clever thing to do. Now, Grace, you must find out who is doing these things and quickly, for tomorrow, before we leave, the Swedish Prince will ask if he may continue his suit. I shall therefore escort you to your chamber, and then I shall go back and explain that you are now resting, but that you were taken with a sudden megrim and thought there was a spider upon the sweetmeat. Meanwhile, you must find out the source of these outrages.”

I was sad to miss the rest of the masque, but relieved that the Queen was trusting me to investigate further.

“Shall I stay with her?” asked Mary Shelton, who hadn't heard what the Queen had been saying.

“No, child,” said the Queen patiently. “You must escort me back to the Hall. And I will tell Mrs. Champernowne that I feel Grace should rest alone until the masque ends.” She then turned to me. “Use the time wisely, Grace.”

I nodded. Mary Shelton helped me up and then she and the Queen escorted me up the spiral stairs to the Maids of Honour, our chamber.

When Mary and the disguised Queen had gone safely back to the Hall, I crept down the stairs to look for Ellie. I found her in the courtyard and explained what the Queen wanted me to do. Unfortunately, neither of us really knew where to start. We sat together in silence for a few minutes, thinking.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that John might be of help in finding out who had put the glass in the subtlety. After all, he had been around the Banqueting House when he found me inside—mayhap he had seen others coming and going from the tent also.

“Ellie,” I said, “could you ask John Hull to come out and talk to me?”

She nodded and hurried into the Hall.

She seemed to be taking an awfully long time. While I waited, I wracked my brains to try and think who could be doing the mischief.

When Ellie came back, she was alone. “E's not there,” she said. “I looked carefully.”

Perchance he had felt ill and gone back to his tent. All of the Earl of Leicester's attendants were camping near the lake, so that the Ladies-in-Waiting, the Maids of Honour, and the Privy Councillors, like Secretary Cecil, could sleep in the rooms in the castle and be near the Queen.

Ellie and I headed over to the little encampment by the lake to try and find John.

It was quite deserted, except for a pageboy, who was supposedly on watch to prevent any courtiers from thieving, but was in fact fast asleep, Curled up by a fire.

I woke him up. “Do you know where John Hull is?” I asked, and he pointed at one of the outermost tents.

Ellie and I went over to it and cautiously peeped in through the flap. It was quite light in the tiny tent,
for the moon was full, and I immediately saw that John was not within. The tent was rather smelly. Shirts and socks were lying in a terrible muddle.

Just as I turned away, a livery doublet caught my eye. It was poking out from beneath John's straw mattress, and in the moonlight that flooded the tent it looked as though it was in Sir William Cecil's colours.

I stared at it, my heart thundering. I could think of no reason at all why one of the Earl of Leicester's men would have a livery from Sir William Cecil.

Unless he wanted to take drugged ale to a firework master, and pretend it came from Cecil!

In a daze, I pulled out the doublet and the jerkin that was with it. Ellie and I stared at them—there was no mistake.