Deception (3 page)

I had a sneaking look back at Lady Jane to see how she was faring. She had lost her mask and was becoming quite red in the face as she desperately tried to stay upright. My fine lady would have done much better fluttering her eyelashes at the very start and gaining a gentleman's arm to lean on. Heavens! To think I know more of flirting on ice than Lady Jane! Not that I would ever put it into practice.

As we drew near the fair, we could hear the hubbub and see the bright colours of the tents and stalls. I couldn't wait to have a closer look.

But just then, Mary Shelton skidded up to me, grabbed hold of my arm, and turned us both in circles. “For the love of God, Grace,” she said with a giggle, “help me. I want to go to the Frost Fair but my skates have other ideas!”

A couple of dirty-faced urchins raced past, pulling a sled behind them. A merchant and his wife sat uncomfortably upon it. Carmina looked longingly at the sled.

“Want a ride, ladies?” called one of the urchins. “Only tuppence to the fair. We'll come back for you.” But at that moment the sled hit a bump and deposited the merchant and his wife on the ice. The urchins left in a hurry… .

“I think I'm safer with you, Grace,” said Mary as she wobbled along.

At last, after a lot of giggling and slipping about, we all arrived at the Frost Fair. I was surprised at how big it was. It put me in mind of the great St. Bartholomew's Fair at Fynnesbury Field.

I was itching to explore—but I knew I would be in terrible disgrace if I skated off unattended. Even though Mrs. Champernowne had not come with us, she would hear of it somehow. Nothing escapes her flapping ears.

Our great party skated along together, enjoying the fair. There were bright tents all over the ice, selling everything from puppets to pasties.

“Where have all these stalls come from?” exclaimed Carmina. “It looks as if all the market traders in London are here.”

“And all the Londoners, too, I'd wager,” added Penelope.

“Look yonder!” Mary gasped. “A whole ox is
being roasted over by the bank. It's a wonder the ice does not melt!”

In some places, the ice was almost invisible under the rubbish and dung that covered it. I was pleased that I'd worn my shortest kirtle to avoid trailing it in the mess.

Lady Jane had at last found herself a prop. Robert Neale was gallantly staggering about with her. But she didn't seem much gratified—mayhap because there was no chance of making Lady Sarah jealous with such an escort. He is rather fat and seems always to smell of boiled cabbage.

It didn't take long for the young gentlemen to be drawn towards a large, noisy tent with a flagon of ale painted on its side. I could see a lot of red-faced men around it—and I don't think it was just the cold that made their cheeks glow. I wondered how much of an escort our young gentlemen would be to us after they had quaffed a few flagons of the “Dragon's Milk” and “Mad Dog” ales that were being offered with great hearty shouts. I noticed that Lady Jane's escort was gallant enough not to leave her side, however; then I realized why. Her fingers were digging into his sleeve like the talons of a hawk into its prey.

I led the rest of the party to a low trestle where
breads and savouries were on display. We paid our pennies and fell upon the saffron cakes, for the exercise and cold had made us famished.

“Now come and look at the sweets,” Lady Sarah said, dragging us over to a booth full of gingerbreads, candies, and frosted fruits.

The stallholder was a cheery man. “Buy while you can, fair ladies,” he said, with an attempt at a courtly bow. “I am only here while my master Mr. Frost allows me. Soon Mr. Thaw will come along, and I have the sinking feeling that I shall have to pack up my wares and swim!”

“Then we must make haste.” I liked his clever words, and bought a dozen ribbon-shaped sweets and some sugared plums, even though he had put up his prices like all the other sellers at the Frost Fair. I have a great sweet tooth and I knew that Ellie, who is always hungry, would enjoy sharing them. I thought about my two best friends, working hard at the palace—Ellie in the laundry and Masou in Will Somers's acrobatic troupe. It makes me sad that Ellie and Masou and I cannot be friends openly because of the difference in our stations. The Queen knows all about it, of course, but would never mention it. My daybooke is the only place I can talk of it.

As we left the stall, we heard a sudden peal of
bells from the church on Lambeth Bank. It meant the Queen was coming! The bells always ring when she takes to the river.

A band of men hurried by with brooms and shovels, pushing aside the rubbish and horse dung that littered the ice—and anyone who got in their way. Then there came a great fanfare from the direction of Whitehall.

The crowds parted as heralds in red coats marched along, blowing on their trumpets. And following them were the Queen, her guard, and a whole retinue of courtiers. Her Majesty had changed her mind about the Frost Fair. I hoped she'd changed her temper, too, or we'd all be in trouble!

The young gentlemen left the beer tent, anxiously wiping their mouths. Some were a little unsteady on their skates. Robert Neale somehow managed to shake off Lady Jane and hurried away towards the Queen. He needs to stay in Her Majesty's favour. Being only a second son and having no fortune, he wants a good position at Court.

Lady Jane flapped about, desperate to keep up with us as we scurried towards the north bank to join the Royal Party. But in the hustle and bustle she was knocked off balance. She tried to save herself, but her arm-waving just sent her in the wrong direction
and she hurtled away towards the south bank, flailing like a windmill and scattering people as she went. She sped past Lady Sarah, who, instead of putting out a helping hand, carefully lifted her skirts out of the way.

As Lady Jane approached the bank she crashed through the branches of a weeping willow and disappeared. Mary and I couldn't help giggling. It was such a funny sight.

But then Lady Jane let out a bloodcurdling scream. Concerned now, I skated over, the other Maids of Honour following.

“I wonder what's happened this time.” Lady Sarah sighed as we struggled together through the branches. “She is so dramatic.” Then she stopped, open-mouthed.

Lady Jane was clinging to the side of a waterman's rowing boat that was frozen in the ice. Inside the boat was a dead body.

Its face was deathly white and its lips grey. It had been blindfolded.

Lady Sarah looked as if she was going to be sick, and Carmina and Penelope had gone very pale. Lady Jane whimpered feebly as Mary Shelton helped her to her feet and away from the horrible sight.

I could hear voices behind me. A few of the fair-goers had begun to gather.

“What's all the commotion?”

“Some fellow's dead in his boat!”

“Died of cold, did he?”

But I could see that this was no natural death. I tried to get closer for a better look. Before I could discover any more, however, some of the Queen's Guard pushed through the crowd with their leader, Mr. Christopher Hatton.

As soon as Mr. Hatton saw the body he started issuing orders. “Escort these ladies to Her Majesty,” he told his men. “I will go ahead and acquaint her of the facts.” He threw some money to a man nearby. “You stay here and guard the body until the under-taker's labourers arrive. Do a good job and you shall be further rewarded.”

The man touched his cap and stood by the boat with his arms folded, looking very important.

Mr. Hatton hurried off to the Queen. One of his men took Lady Jane firmly by the arm and led her away. The Maids of Honour followed. I didn't want to leave the scene—I was desperate to learn what had happened to the poor man in the boat. It was just such an event as a Lady Pursuivant should
investigate. But there was nothing I could do—at least, nothing yet. Reluctantly I skated after the other Maids.

In the distance, I could see that a huge crowd had gathered to watch the Queen's party as it made its way across the cleared ice towards the stalls of the Frost Fair. There was much cheering, and shouts of “God Bless Your Majesty!”

As we reached the edge of the crowd, the people jostled and didn't seem very keen to let us through, until they saw the Gentlemen of the Guard with their long, fierce-looking halberds.

Mr. Hatton bowed low in front of Her Majesty and we all curtsied.

“What took you so hurriedly from my side, Mr. Hatton?” Her Majesty asked, removing her mask to stare at us all sternly. “Surely it was not just to round up my twittering Maids of Honour like a sheepdog?”

The Queen's temper did not seem much improved. We all tried to look demure and obedient as Mr. Hatton quickly told her about the body in the boat.

“May God have mercy on his soul,” the Queen said. “I leave the arrangements in your hands, Mr. Hatton.” Then she looked irritably at Lady Jane, who was casting her eyes at all the young gentlemen
and moaning faintly. “I believe Lady Jane would be better served if she were to return to the palace,” she said.

Several young men stepped forwards to offer their arm. But to Lady Jane's obvious dismay, and Lady Sarah's obvious delight, Mrs. Champernowne suddenly appeared at her side and marched, or rather, slid her off towards Privy Bridge.

When they were gone, the Queen suddenly smiled and held out her hand to a gentleman at her side. I recognized him immediately. He was Sir Edward Latimer, her Mint Warden, and the cause of the Queen's furious cushion-throwing earlier.

“You will lend me your arm, Sir Edward, and escort me over the ice,” she commanded. “I wish to see this Frost Fair and you have now the opportunity to remedy the displeasure of your Queen. I have not yet forgiven you for the delay with my new coin.”

Sir Edward is handsome and always finely dressed. He is tall and dark-haired, and today he wore a green velvet suit the exact same colour as his glittering eyes—as Lady Jane was quick to notice. He drew a lot of attention from the ladies. But he had eyes only for the Queen. Every time she spoke to him, he preened like one of the peacocks in the grounds of Whitehall. He must be a man of wealth, for he
always has his own servants with him—three young pages and a large and threatening-looking attendant.

I know that the other Maids of Honour are greatly impressed with Sir Edward, but I'm not. And his behaviour today didn't help. Whenever the corpse was mentioned, he gasped like a girl and pressed an embroidered handkerchief to his mouth—and he hadn't even seen the body! I am quite surprised that such a milk-livered dandy should be entrusted with the Royal Mint.

But then Sir Edward's supporter at Court is Sir Thomas Gresham, Her Majesty's Chief Financier. It was Sir Thomas who helped the Queen restore our coinage after her own father, Henry VIII, had debased it so much that it was almost worthless. The debased coins were made of a cheap mixture of copper and a tiny amount of silver. The copper made the silver go further, and the coins cheaper to produce, but it soon made them worthless, too. What silver there was quickly rubbed away on the prominent bits of the coin— like King Henry's nose. I have heard that some called him Coppernose because of this—behind his back, of course, for they wished to keep their heads! And Sir Thomas helped remedy all this, so he is a clever man and would surely not offer a fool his support.

Perhaps I've been too hard on Sir Edward. It must be a complicated job being in charge of all the coinage of the realm—especially when the Queen holds up the plans and then expects her Mint Warden to produce silver for making new coins out of thin air.

If nothing else, Sir Edward was certainly having a good effect on Her Majesty's temper. He was paying her endless compliments—and there is nothing the Queen likes better from a handsome gentleman. She was all smiles now!

“I fear that the ice itself may melt in the glow of Your Majesty's presence,” Sir Edward was saying.

While the other Maids of Honour stared goggle-eyed at the glamorous Sir Edward, I was desperate to get back to the body in the boat and have another look before it was taken to an undertaker. I wondered if I could sneak off while Sir Edward was making his pretty speeches to the Queen. But Her Majesty was in such a good mood now that she wanted us to enjoy the fair with her. She thought it would be great sport to watch the Maids of Honour play skittles, and she had spotted a skittle alley among the stalls. As we made our way towards it I could hear Sir Edward comparing the Queen with everything in sight:

“The finest of frost patterns cannot compete with Your Grace's beauty,” and “I see that Helios himself dare not show his face while our Royal Sun is shining upon us.”

Hell's teeth! Why does Her Majesty like all that silliness? I wondered what would happen if Sir Edward got carried away and compared her to the roasting ox.

However, everyone else seemed mightily impressed with his words, especially the Queen, who looked as if she wouldn't have cared now if he produced coins made of cowpats.

Skittles on skates is not easy! The Queen soon tired of our antics, although she did laugh heartily when Carmina tripped and slid all the way up the skittle alley. All the skittles went flying—and she was still holding the ball.

The Queen's eye was next caught by an archery contest near the south bank, and the whole party swept off to watch.

Our route took us past the boat containing the blindfolded corpse, and I seized the opportunity to slip to the back of the party in hopes of getting a closer look. I could see that the undertaker's labourers were arriving with a sled. I decided I had to get there without delay or the body would be gone!

I quickly skated over to the boat while Sir Edward was jabbering on about Her Majesty's being more slender and graceful than the finest bow in England.

The man guarding the body was talking with some bystanders while the undertaker's men examined his charge. The bystanders touched their caps and moved apart to let me through.

“Do you know who it is, then?” one of them asked the guard.

“Ay.” The guard nodded importantly. “'Tis a waterman from Westminster way, name of Will Stubbs.”

“I know of him,” gasped a woman, putting her hands to her head. “They say he went missing, just before the ice set. Oh, his poor wife.”