Deception (16 page)

Three men were filling sacks with silver coins. There were trussels and piles and clipping shears strewn over the workbenches.

The men looked up, aghast, as we entered and I recognized them as labourers from my visit to the mint. The guards wasted no time. They rushed forward and took them, two to a man, holding them fast.

At this moment, the door to the Press House opened and Sir Edward Latimer strode in.

Seeing us, he became in a trice the dainty Sir
Edward we had seen at Court. He threw his hands up in horror. “What is going on?” he exclaimed. “Why are you here, Mr. Hatton?”

“I am to take you and your accomplices before the Queen to answer charges of counterfeiting and murder,” Mr. Hatton said grimly.

Sir Edward could have taken his place with any band of players, for he acted the innocent to perfection. “Counterfeit?” He clutched his hands to his chest. “I do not understand. My men are merely struggling to fulfil the Queen's orders for her new coin.” He picked up a metal pile with the Queen's likeness engraved on it and held it out to us. “We are burning the midnight oil, as you can see. And as for murder—”

“These are not Her Majesty's true coins,” I said, stepping forward into the light. “And I can prove it.”

Sir Edward laughed lightly. “Lady Grace? Is that you? What an honour that you should visit the mint again—but at such an hour? Now, come, Hatton, release these good men so that they may get on with their work and we'll sup some ale together.”

I snatched a coin from one of the sacks and held it next to the one the Queen had given me. “Your men are making false coins,” I declared. “See, they have alloy in them and are duller than the true silver one.”

Mr. Hatton stepped forward to peer at the coins. I could tell he had seen the difference between them, and the truth of my words, for his mouth tightened and he whirled back to face Sir Edward. I waited for Sir Edward to admit all, but he spun round to berate his labourers. “You base wretches!” he shouted.

“What villainy is this? Counterfeiting? Murder? Take them away, Mr. Hatton. They deserve no mercy.”

“But you said—” one of his labourers began.

“Silence, you varlet!” Sir Edward thundered.

“Now, Mr. Hatton, I will certainly go and explain all to the Queen on the morrow. I am mortified that this should have been going on beneath my very nose.”

Mr. Hatton hesitated. Surely he would not disobey the orders of the Queen? But I believe at that moment he was taken in by Sir Edward.

My thoughts were racing. I had to get the villain to admit his guilt. I was certain that if he was not arrested immediately he would be far away by dawn. Then I remembered the house on the Strand. “You have a fine residence by Somerset House, do you not, Sir Edward?” I asked, trying to sound as sweet as Lady Sarah.

“Indeed, my lady,” he answered gallantly. “And I would be honoured by a visit from you at any time.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, giving a pretty curtsy.

“Now would be an excellent time. I am particularly interested in the chamber on the second floor, for I am told it contains your store of counterfeit coins.” I saw Sir Edward's face blanch. “And we could ask Tom Tyler where he has put Harry Stubbs's body— having killed him on your foul orders.”

The mask fell from Sir Edward's face. With a snarl, he leaped forward, and before I knew what had happened he had me in an arm lock and was holding the pile with its spike pressed to my throat. I thought my heart would stop, it was beating so hard in my chest.

My guards jumped towards us to free me.

“Nobody move!” Sir Edward shouted, pulling me roughly towards the open door. “I will have safe passage or I will spill the life's blood of this meddling maid.”

The men hesitated and drew back, seeing that Sir Edward meant what he said.

I could hardly keep my wits, but I knew I had to if I was to save my life. I did not believe Sir Edward would let me live even if he did escape.

“Surely you know that this cannot work, Sir Edward,” I said through clenched teeth. “Mr. Hatton will at any minute order his men to attack, whether or not my life is in danger.”

“Quiet!” spat my captor.

“Why not give yourself up like a true man,” I persisted, “and face the consequences?”

Sir Edward struck me hard on the side of the face with the pile. “I told you to keep silent!” he growled. My cheek throbbed with pain and I bit my lip so as not to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out.

I had to think fast. What would Masou do? He would wriggle out of this somehow. Trickery! That was it—but what trickery could I use? I clenched my fists in desperation—and felt my fingers tighten around the two coins. And that gave me an idea.

We were in the open doorway of the Press House now. Without moving my arm, I flicked the coins behind me and out onto the cobbles of Mint Street. They made a wonderful loud chinking noise and Sir Edward instinctively turned his head to see who was behind him. Taken off guard, he loosened his grip, and I sank my teeth into the hand that held the pile.

Sir Edward let out a terrible oath and dropped his makeshift weapon. In an instant one of my guards had pulled me to safety within the Press House, and the Queen's Guards were upon Sir Edward.

The rest of it passed in a blur. One of my guards told me afterwards that I looked close to fainting as I
was rescued. What nonsense! It was just that everything happened so quickly, I wasn't sure what was going on.

Amongst the uproar, I heard a scuffle and a terrified yelp from Sir Edward and I think someone must have tried to run him through, for I heard Mr. Hatton declare, “Stay your swords. He must be taken alive. He will answer to the Queen for his villainy.”

I stopped just now and put down my quill. The Queen came to me directly and wouldn't listen when I tried to tell her I just had writer's cramp and needed to stretch my fingers. She threatened to call for my Uncle Cavendish, but I finally managed to persuade her that all was well. I didn't want to submit to his ministrations again. It was bad enough when we returned from the Tower.

I had only suffered a tiny nick in the skin, but you would have thought I'd nearly had my head chopped off for all the fuss. I was carried to the Queen's Chamber on her orders—though I was perfectly able to walk by then—and my uncle sent for.

Her Majesty paced up and down. “Incompetent guards,” she muttered. “How I shall deal with them and their master—allowing you to be put in such danger!”

It took all my skill to persuade her that it was not their fault, for Sir Edward was a very cunning character and had fooled us all.

My uncle looked more bleary-eyed than usual, for it must have been about five of the clock, and he would have been counting on a few more hours' sleep before he had to face the day. He stumbled in, spent many minutes poring over my horoscope, and then proceeded to bleed me to balance my humours. I am sure I shouldn't say this, but I don't know why he bothered with the horoscope, for I think he would have bled me anyway.

“What do you expect, Grace?” he muttered out of the Queen's hearing. He sounded half cross and half worried. “Chasing about at night and confronting dangerous men! It is small wonder that your humours needed balancing. Now turn this way!”

He inspected my bruised cheek (which looked very colourful in the Queen's looking glass but was hardly hurting at all) and tied a poultice of egg yolk, oil of roses, and turpentine in a bandage round my head. Then he gave me an infusion of willow bark to drink.

And I slept deeply in Her Majesty's own bed until just before noon.

I awoke to find the Queen gone and Mrs. Champernowne tutting and bustling over me. I knew she was desperate to hear of my adventures and eager to scold me for them, too, but I know it was mostly because she was worried about me, so I tried to assure her that I was well.

She insisted I ate some broth, and helped me to dress in my second-best gown and stomacher and laced the sleeves on herself. Then she took me to the Queen's Privy Chamber. On the way I pulled off my poultice and threw it into a corner. I wasn't going to look like a mad girl with the toothache.

Unusually, the Chamber was not seething with people. There were just Her Majesty, Mr. Hatton, Secretary Cecil, and Sir Thomas Gresham, and everyone was looking very grave. We curtsied low as we entered; then I was led to a seat of honour by Her Majesty's side and Mrs. Champernowne bustled away, probably to calm her agitation by fussing over the other Maids of Honour.

“Gentlemen,” said the Queen, in a low voice, “I need hardly tell you that what passes between us in this chamber must be kept most secret.”

The three gentlemen bowed solemnly.

I had a sudden moment of panic. No one here knew that I was the Queen's Lady Pursuivant. Would the Queen be able to explain away my involvement in the night's events, or would all here present learn the truth? In which case, I could no longer be Her Majesty's secret Lady Pursuivant!

I need not have worried.

“You are all privy to the dire knowledge that my new coin has been counterfeited,” she said. “Lady Grace Cavendish is here on my express orders as it was her sharp eyes that first discovered it. On the instant that I heard word of this treachery I dispatched spies to find out the truth and bring the miscreants to justice. This they have done, and they have my eternal gratitude for it.” She looked at me as she said this. Then she turned to the guards at the door. “Now bring the ringleader before me.”

Sir Edward Latimer, pale and dishevelled, was dragged in by two guards and pushed to his knees in front of the Queen. His hands were tightly bound in front of him. Sir Thomas Gresham started as he saw his protégé, and Mr. Cecil put a hand on his arm.

“What have you to say for yourself, Sir Edward?” barked Her Majesty. “You were wont to make us a very pretty picture of the gallant knight, yet I see you are nought but a black-hearted villain!”

Sir Edward kept his lips tightly together and stared at the floor. I was rather pleased to see that his bitten hand was now a dull purple. I hoped it still hurt.

“Have you nothing to say?” the Queen demanded.

“Or are you saving it all for your trial for counterfeiting and murder, not to mention the attempted abduction of my Maid of Honour?”

Sir Edward kept his silence.

“Very well.” The Queen was icy. “Then Mr. Hatton will tell us of your misdeeds. Your devoted labourers were most willing to divulge all to him.”

I shivered. I could imagine the labourers had taken one look at the torturers' thumbscrews, deep in the bowels of the White Tower, and told all they knew.

“If it please Your Majesty, it transpires that Latimer's young pages are nothing but common thieves, and have been stealing silver all over London to use for the counterfeit coins,” Mr. Hatton explained.

So Ellie had been right. Sir Edward's page had been about to steal the silver chalice from the Great Hall. And I suddenly remembered that Lady Sarah's uncle had been robbed of his silver—perchance he had been victim of the same criminals. Lady Sarah would not be pleased to find that Sir Edward had been responsible for the robbery, and thus her lack of a new gown.

“At night, when the mint was supposed to be closed down,” Mr. Hatton went on, “Latimer and his accomplices would take their stolen silver, melt it down with tin to make an alloy, and use the very dies designed for Her Majesty's new coin to strike their miserable copies. The Yeomen of the Guard were told this was all for the Queen and must be kept secret.”

“But what of Master Petty?” I exclaimed. “Did he not question the night-time workings of the mint? Sir Edward told us that he is the Master Moneyer, so surely he would have known that extra minting was going on. He seemed an honest man.”

Sir Edward raised his head and stared at me. “He is,” he said sourly. “So I had to be sure that my men were last to finish at night and first to start in the morning to allay suspicion. And Master Petty has found himself sleeping very well these past few weeks, with a little tincture of poppy in his evening ale.”

Now I knew why Master Petty seemed so strangely tired when we met him at the mint!

“What has happened to all these counterfeit coins?” Secretary Cecil asked gravely.

The Queen looked at me and nodded.

“Sir Edward has been lowering the coins from a
window at the Tower to a boatman in his employ,” I explained. “This boatman, Harry Stubbs, has been taking them to Sir Edward's house in the Strand, where they have been stored, ready for him to use when Her Majesty's new coin is circulated. The body we found on the ice was Harry Stubbs's brother, Will. He found out about the counterfeiting and was murdered on Sir Edward's orders.” Everyone looked at me. They must have been wondering how I could possibly know this. “Or so I have been told,” I added hurriedly.

“But Edward, why?” burst out Sir Thomas Gresham. “You had my support and a good standing at Court. Her Majesty's Mint Warden is a most prestigious position. Could you not have been satisfied?”

“That was never enough!” Sir Edward spat. “Do you think I did not also want a fine house and fine clothes and the esteem that comes with them? And it was all within my grasp.” He seemed to have forgotten the Queen's presence as the poisonous words slipped from his lips. He looked wild, as if he had escaped from the Bedlam asylum. “It wouldn't have been long before a wealthy Maid of Honour or Queen's Lady would have been mine to marry. But until then, maintaining my status and appearance
required more money than I had. So I devised a clever plan to meet my expenses—no one ever needed to know. But thanks to the fools I employed, the secret was let out and now I shall die for their stupidity.”