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Authors: Lady Grace Cavendish

Tags: #Coins, #Kings; queens; rulers; etc., #Fiction, #Great Britain, #Counterfeits and counterfeiting, #Mystery and detective stories, #Europe, #Kings and rulers, #Law & Crime, #Diaries, #Antiques & Collectibles, #Renaissance, #Royalty, #Detective and Mystery Stories, #Kings; queens; rulers; etc, #Juvenile Fiction, #Mysteries & Detective Stories, #Coins; Currency & Medals, #Historical, #Great Britain - History - Elizabeth; 1558-1603, #money, #Concepts

Deception (12 page)

BOOK: Deception
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“I have thought of that,” Masou said, and he tipped out a sackful of ribbons and buttons and fancy lengths of lace. “These I found in the tumblers' costume trunk. They will not be missed.” He put them back in the sack. “But we must sell them from the bag, for there were no pedlars' trays in our trunk.”

I was just adding the ribbon sweets to the wares when Ellie's hand shot out, pinched one, and stuffed it in her mouth.

“Just making sure they taste good,” she mumbled, grinning. “Now, begone. We can't have no pedlars in ladies' bedchambers!” And she shooed us out.

Masou and I covered our gaudy clothes in long, heavy cloaks, and I put on my mask, for it would go very hard for two pedlars found within Whitehall. The Queen's Guard can be very quick with their swords and may not ask questions first.

The frozen Thames was as busy as ever as people made their way to and from the Frost Fair. We set off away from the fair, upstream towards Westminster. I found it quite easy walking on the ice, but I wished I could have skated again.

Soon Masou had attracted a following of children as he capered across the ice, playing a jolly tune on a pipe, like the Pied Piper of Hamelin Town. That left me to carry the sack—and now it had our cloaks and my mask in it as well!

By the time we'd reached Will Stubbs's cottage we had quite a crowd, young and old. Whenever Masou performs at Court, everyone looks at him—and here it was no different. All the children wanted to talk to him. They pestered him with requests to teach them how to juggle and shrieked with delight when he produced eggs from their ears.

I stayed in the background, mumbling now and again and trying to listen carefully to their excited chatter.

“Welcome, all.” Masou took a deep bow. “We are poor pedlars, here to entertain and sell our wares. I will show you the fine art of juggling while my sister here—you must forgive her for she is a dullard—will show you our wares. Be not afraid, she is harmless
but tongue-tied, so ask not the price, for everything is but a halfpenny.”

I thumped Masou with the sack, which made everyone laugh. Then, mumbling, I wandered round the crowd showing what we had to sell.

Masou plucked caps from the heads of some nearby children and began to juggle with them.

“Where you from, Master Pedlar?” asked a woman in the crowd.

“We hail from the south, where the sun burnishes the skin and oranges ripen on the trees, even in the winter,” Masou replied, not taking his eyes off the hats.

“Why ain't your sister dark like you?” shouted someone else.

“She is afeard of the sun and hides away from it,” answered Masou cheerily. “Yet we are not accustomed to such cold and have never seen frozen water like this before. What is it?”

“Why, it is the river Thames,” said a young boy with a giggle.

“No!” Masou gasped, clasping his hands dramatically to his heart and dropping all the hats. “Not the great river Thames? Surely it will soon break through this frosty harness?” Then he began to leap about as if he were scared the ice would crack
beneath him. The crowd loved it. “Tell me more of this frozen water,” he called, flicking the caps back onto each head. “What boats sail on it?”

The children screeched with laughter.

“Boats don't sail on ice,” explained a small, grubby girl. “You need sleds.”

“Sleds, is it?” Masou said. He cupped his chin in one hand thoughtfully. “And are they good sport?”

“Oh yes,” said his young informant, “and we makes skates out of pieces of wood and bone and we skids about all over the place.”

I stopped handing out my wares and went to stand by my “pedlar brother.” When I counted I found we had earned sixpence halfpenny for our efforts— although, if I am to be honest, I think it was Masou's antics that earned us the money. The men and women began to drift away but the children all stayed, fascinated by their southern visitors.

“And doth the sun not melt the ice?” Masou wanted to know.

“No! 'Tis too thick for that.” This came as a chorus from all the children.

“But what about the moon?” Masou had a twinkle in his eye. “Doth the moon not melt it at night?”

The children shook their heads solemnly.

The grubby little girl shuddered. “It's scary after
dark. The river makes horrible creaking noises. No one goes out on the ice at night.”

“Harry Stubbs the waterman does!” piped up an older boy. I felt Masou stiffen beside me as the boy carried on, “Me mam says he goes out nigh on every night. He's been making runs on the ice using a sled. We don't know where he goes, but late it is, just after the ten o'clock curfew. And no one's meant to go out after the curfew bell sounds!”

Masou suddenly stepped back, spun round on the ice, and did a somersault in the air, to the delight of his audience. “We must journey on, my friends,” he declared, “along this frozen river Thames of yours. You have been a fine audience and we will always remember you, our Children of the Ice.” And he swept them a deep bow.

I did a clumsy curtsy and mumbled a bit, which made them all titter. Then we set off back towards Whitehall in the fading light.

I was desperate to speak and found it hard to wait until we were out of hearing distance.

“So the dead man's brother goes out on strange missions at night,” I said as soon as I could. “That sounds most suspicious. Mayhap there is some connection between these midnight errands and Will Stubbs's murder. I believe we have a lead at last.”

“We must find out where he journeys to,” said Masou.

When we got back to Whitehall we sought out Ellie. She was in the starching room, attending to a ruff by the poor light of a flickering tallow candle.

Throwing our cloaks off, we excitedly told her what we had discovered, jabbering away and forgetting we were still dressed as pedlars.

I showed Ellie the coins we had earned and slipped them into her pocket. Her face lit up. I felt pleased that I had given the money to her, but also chastened because what had seemed such a paltry sum to me was obviously riches to Ellie.

“What are we going to do now?” she asked, pushing the ruff aside.

“I'm going to follow Harry the waterman and see what he's up to,” I declared. “Tonight!”

Ellie looked horrified. “Not on your own, you're not!” she said severely. “That man might have had something to do with his own brother's murder! Me and Masou are coming with you.”

“I don't want to get you into trouble,” I insisted.

“If we are caught by the City watchmen it could go badly for you both—for we shall be out after curfew.”

“Oh, Grace,” Ellie said. “You've been listening to tales of the past. We'll likely not even see a watchman.

Nowadays folk are not so bothered about curfew. I shouldn't think the City will even be locked up. So we'll be with you, and no argument—won't we, Masou?”

“Allah be praised! What joy! I shall have frozen toes once more!” Masou exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “Still, I shall have no trouble slipping out tonight, for my lord the Earl of Leicester is back at Court and the Queen has ordered a private dinner with her favourite.”

“In that case the Queen will not notice my absence,” I told them. Then a thought occurred to me. “But I mean to skate. How can you keep up?”

“It's not just Maids of Honour what can skate, my fine lady!” Ellie reminded me. “Anyone can strap a length of bone to their boot.”

“Especially if it be carved and shaped by an expert,” Masou boasted, tapping his own chest.

“Very well,” I agreed, secretly pleased not to be venturing out on the ice on my own at night. “Then we shall meet down here when the clock chimes nine—”

“What's all this?” came a screech, and Mrs. Fadget suddenly appeared in the gloomy room. She took one look at our pedlar clothes and started waving her arms madly. “Cut-throats! Thieves!” she
shrieked. “We'll all be murdered in our beds. Help! Ellie, fetch a broom!”

Before I could say anything, Masou grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the door. “Pray pardon, mistress,” he said. “We are simply trying to sell our wares. No harm meant.” He grinned mischievously. “My sister begs pardon too, but cannot say it for she is a tongue-tied half-wit. Ow!” This last was addressed to my boot, which had made its acquaintance with his shin.

I was enjoying the sight of the odious Mrs. Fadget in a panic, but I knew that any moment now her screeching would alert the guard and my secret investigations wouldn't be as secret as I would wish.

“Mrs. Fadget!” I said sternly. “Stop that noise. Do you not recognize one of Her Majesty's Maids of Honour? Masou and I are merely trying costumes for a masque for Her Majesty. What would she say if she heard you?”

Mrs. Fadget stared hard at my face. “Oh, my lady!” she gasped as she recognized me. “Forgive me.” She scuttled past us and disappeared. I do not believe I have ever seen such a big grin on Ellie's face!

So now I am getting ready for a quiet supper with Mrs. Champernowne and the other Maids of
Honour. I will eat my fill and then, alas, I will suffer a relapse of my chill and “retire early for the night,” for I must be away from the palace and at Westminster well before ten of the clock. My heart thuds in my chest, but whether it is from excitement or fear I know not.

THE TWENTY-EIGHTH DAY OF NOVEMBER,
IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1569

I am sitting in the Queen's bedchamber, by a roaring fire, wrapped in Her Majesty's best mink cloak! I have sweetmeats and a cinnamon posset at my side, and the Queen has given fierce orders that we are not to be disturbed. She is dictating a letter to one of her secretaries and looking over at me from time to time to see how I am faring. I am in truth far too hot, but dare not offend Her Majesty by throwing off the cloak, when she has tucked it round me with her own hand. I have already had to plead with her to let me write in my daybooke, for I must retell my adventure of last night. Hell's teeth! I must also take care not to spill ink on Her Majesty's fine mink.

I pray I have enough ink to make this entry, for I have so much to tell! I have slept much of the day
and I hope my wits are not too befuddled to make a good record of what has happened.

As soon as I had supped last night, I excused myself, saying I felt feeble with the chill again. To help the pretence I had put some of Lady Sarah's white lead on my cheeks before I came down.

“What did I tell you, Grace?” said Mrs. Champernowne crossly, leading me off to my bed. “You were up too hastily, look you. Have you a sore throat?”

I shook my head quickly and said no, it was just the shivers. Mrs. Champernowne would be only too happy to hunt down a spider—for me to swallow as a cure—if I'd said yes.

It was lucky that the Queen was having a private meal with my Lord of Leicester or she would have called for my Uncle Cavendish to physic me. I couldn't tell Her Majesty that I was intending to leave the palace and follow a suspicious waterman along the moonlit ice. She would have forbidden it out of hand.

As soon as Mrs. Champernowne had gone, I threw off my gown and sleeves, and pulled on my old green woollen kirtle, hat, gloves, and a good warm cloak. I could not risk a newer garment's becoming torn or muddied and questions being asked.

Grabbing my skates, I made my way through one of Masou's secret ways, down to the heavy oak door that leads to the Privy Bridge landing stage. I heard a distant clock strike nine and I hoped Masou and Ellie would be waiting.

As I closed the door behind me, two shadows pulled away from the gloom and for a moment my heart thumped alarmingly, until I realized it was indeed my two friends. They both looked as if they were wearing many layers of clothes. I didn't ask where they'd got them from.

“Did you have any trouble getting away?” I whispered.

“No,” Masou whispered back. “I asked Mr. Somers if I might be excused as the Queen is having her private supper and should not want much entertainment. I believe he thinks I am off to meet some young lady. It would surprise him greatly to find it was actually two!”

Ellie giggled and quickly clapped her hand over her mouth to stop the noise.

We made our way down onto the ice, strapped on our skates, and set off, trying to make as little sound as possible. I thought the Palace Guard might be about, for Whitehall is always watched, even on the coldest of nights—though Masou said they were
more likely to be found round a fire with their ale than round the palace walls with their swords. Even so, we kept as close to the shadowy bank as we could. Ellie and Masou were able skaters. I am sure it was because of the fine skates that Masou had fashioned.

BOOK: Deception
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