Twilight of a Queen (39 page)

But Xavier appeared to understand her reluctance all too well.

“It is not money I obtained from the Dark Queen if that is what you are afraid of. I can occasionally earn money through honest means.”

“I am sorry,” Jane faltered.

“I acquired it by—”

“You don’t have to explain, Xavier.”

“Yes, I do.” A hint of color stained his cheeks as he went on. “I am rather good at sketching out maps of the voyages I have taken and I have been able to sell a few to men who also hunger for a glimpse of a far-off horizon. It seems even in a city as desperate as Paris, there are a few other foolish dreamers like me.”

“If your maps are anything like your drawings, I am sure they are wonderful.”

“Yes, occasionally if I am not sure of the route, I even invent an island or two. I could name one after you, Jane.”

“Oh, no,” she protested, horrified. “You must not.”

The taut set of Xavier’s mouth widened into his familiar grin. “I was only teasing you, my dear. I make my charts as accurate as possible. We would not want to send some poor fool sailing off the end of the world, would we?”

“No,” Jane agreed, reluctantly smiling back at him. The tender amusement in his eyes, the warm curve of his lips wreaked havoc with her emotions. Xavier would be the first to deny it, but the man was capable of great kindness. She was sure that his continuing to look after her betokened no more than that. She could not allow herself to be charmed into losing her heart again.

When several fat droplets of water struck her cheek, she glanced up and said, “It is beginning to rain. I must be getting back to my cousin’s.”

“You’ll never make it,” Xavier said, seizing her hand. “You had best come with me.”

“But where are we going?” Jane asked, stumbling in her efforts to keep up with his long strides.

“Back to the inn where I am staying.”

“W-hat?” Jane hung back, her heart racing with a mixture of alarm and anticipation.

“Only to have a glass of wine in the taproom.” Xavier angled a wicked look down at her. “What else did you think I meant?”

THE RAIN BEAT AGAINST THE WINDOWS OF THE ROYALE
François, but the interior of the taproom was snug and dry. The tavern was thronged with Parisians seeking refuge from
the downpour, the conversation heated as it had been most of the summer, condemning the king for his extravagant follies that had brought the kingdom to the brink of ruin.

Fear ran strong that another massacre was in the offing, but this time the target would not be Huguenots, but the king’s rebellious Catholic subjects. And where was the duc de Guise? Never had Parisians been in greater need of their great hero, the champion of the true faith. Complaints and speculation ran rife through the tavern, but were conducted in low terse voices, as though His Majesty’s spies lurked everywhere.

The only ones who appeared oblivious to the tension were the odd quartet seated near the taproom’s front window. The lady appeared far too prim and proper to be seen abroad with such disreputable-looking companions.

Jane perched on the edge of her chair, feeling slightly bemused. Since her banishment from her life in England, she had been in all manner of situations she could never have predicted. Becoming the confidante of a girl who had been hailed as a notorious witch, attending a council of daughters of the earth, making love to a man at midnight within a circle of mysterious standing stones.

But never in her wildest flights of fancy had Jane imagined herself doing anything like this, the proper Lady Danvers frequenting a tavern, drinking with pirates.

There had been something challenging about the way Xavier had introduced her to his two shipmates. His stern gaze seemed to warn his two men to be on their best behavior, a warning that was unnecessary.

Jane had never met two men more courteous, even
amongst all the nobility of London. Especially the one called Pietro. She had heard tell of the savages who inhabited the New World but she had never been this close to one before.

Despite his alarming size, there was nothing of the savage about Pietro. He had a voice like velvet and the eyes of a sage, gentle and wise.

As for Jambe du Bois, his piratical appearance was greatly diminished when he doffed his cap, revealing a balding pate.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance, your ladyship,” the little man addressed her in her own tongue. “After one sight of your lovely face, I can see why our captain was in no hurry to leave Faire Isle.”

He raised her hand to his lips and proceeded to salute it with great enthusiasm until Xavier intervened.

“That will do, you old dog,” Xavier said, rescuing her hand. His fingers lingered over hers before releasing her.

“You did not get too wet, did you, my lady?” Jambe asked. “We could shift to a spot nearer the fire.”

Jane shook her head, assuring him she was fine. “It was a happy chance that your inn was situated so close to the district where I reside.”

“Oh, that was no chance. When the captain learned where you were living, he insisted upon us moving from—ooof.” Jambe broke off, apparently upon receiving a sharp jab in the ribs from Xavier. His threatening scowl caused the old man to subside.

Jane mulled over what Jambe had blurted out. So Xavier had changed residence from one inn to another. To be closer to her? Jane tried not to reflect too much upon that.

She twisted her hands in the folds of her skirt, feeling a trifle shy. She had no idea how one went about conversing with pirates.

She turned to Jambe. “So you are an Englishman, Master …” She floundered, unsure how to address a man who went by such a strange sobriquet. “Master Leg?”

The old man grinned. “Actually the name is Arthur Inchcombe, milady, formerly of London.”

“Inchcombe?”
Jambe du Bois’s true name stirred her memory. Owing to her late husband’s connection to the wine trade, Jane had become familiar with many of the prominent guilds and artisans of London.

“You are not by any chance kin to the glaziers who had their workshop in Cheapside?”

Jambe beamed, puffing out his chest with pride. “Indeed I am, milady, although I never had any talent for the trade myself. But my great-grandfather was a most skilled artisan and helped fit the stained glass for many of the city churches. My father always said it broke the old man’s heart when the reformists smashed much of his beautiful work, calling it idolatry.”

“So your family is Catholic?” Jane asked softly.

“We were until the old King Henry outlawed it. Then we were members of the king’s church, but we almost had to become Protestors under his son. Then came Bloody Mary and back we went to the Popish ways again. Now under Elizabeth, we follow old Henry’s ways again, taking care to stay away from the Puritans because good Queen Bess don’t like them any more than she does Papists.”

“Mind your tongue, Jambe,” Xavier warned. “Lady Danvers
is a Catholic, although she certainly has paid a heavy price for remaining true to her faith.”

When Jambe regarded her questioningly Jane explained, “I have been exiled from England, partly because I sought to smuggle a priest into my house to say the mass.”

That was a part of her history she had never even confided to Xavier. He twisted in his chair to scowl at her. “What in heaven’s name were you thinking, Jane? To risk everything, your home, your life for such a trifle.”

“I suppose it was
heaven
I was thinking of,” she replied with a sad smile. “The rituals of our faith were not trifling to me or the members of my household.

“Of course, I had no idea the priest that I found was involved in a plot to assassinate the queen. That I would never condone. But even though it nearly cost me everything, including my life, I do not regret defying English law to secure the comforts of our religion for my people. Because—”

“I know.” Xavier vented a long-suffering sigh. “Because it was the right thing to do.”

Jane smiled ruefully. To her surprise, it was Pietro who appeared to be the most understanding. He nodded in quiet approval while Jambe scratched his head.

“Beg pardon, your ladyship. Perhaps these matters of faith be more clear to one of your birth and education. But it gets fair confusing for the more common people like me. Sometimes it seems safest to be a heathen like friend Pietro here.”

“Unless the Spanish Inquisition ever lays hold of you,” Xavier drawled.

“Damned devils.” Jambe clapped his hand to his mouth. “Sorry, milady.”

“You must forgive my friend,” Pietro said. “While we were in St. Malo, we heard tidings of the Spanish that angered Jambe greatly.”

“What tidings?”

Xavier leaned forward and fixed Jambe with a warning glare. “I don’t think her ladyship needs to hear any idle reports you chanced to pick up.”

“Yes, I do,” Jane cried. “Please.”

Jambe cast an uncertain glance from her back to his captain. Xavier scowled, but then he shrugged and leaned back. Taking that for assent, Jambe said, “It is considered fair certain the armada will set sail this month. If France does nothing to intervene, those Spanish dogs could be swarming up our coast.”

Jane felt herself pale, her grip tightening on the edge of the table. Jambe’s eyes glistened fiercely as he added, “If that happens, Captain, I am going home.

“I don’t know how much use an old man with one leg will be against all those Spanish swords and muskets, but I’ll give every last drop of my blood afore I ever see Philip of Spain on the throne at Whitehall instead of our grand old Bess.”

Pietro placed his large hand on the little man’s shoulder. “I am with you, my friend. I am pleased to fight the Spanish anytime, anywhere.” He turned to Xavier. “That would be the best course for all of us, Captain, to seek out Sir Francis Drake. He said if we ever required employment, he would be pleased to take us on again.”

“Aye,” Jambe put in eagerly. “And you know Sir Francis. Even in the midst of a bloody war, Drake will manage to take a few prizes. We could come away with our pockets well lined with gold.”

“Bah, is that all you ever think about?” Pietro asked. “My people, the Cimmarones, used to raid the Spanish mule teams and take their gold all the time. We buried it in the hills never to be found, just to annoy the Spanish.”

“Don’t speak of it, lad,” Jambe groaned. “It makes me ill just to think of such waste. All that lovely gold.”

“Gold is of no importance. Now iron, that is a useful metal. With iron you can make fine weapons and cooking pots.”

“Humph. If you have enough gold, you can buy all the weapons and pots that you want.”

The two fell into an amiable bickering that might have amused Jane under other circumstances. But talk of the armada filled her with anxiety. She looked to Xavier for reassurance, but found none in the grim cast of his countenance.

Xavier sipped his wine and frowned. “I have no wish to distress you, my dear. But I fear England’s best hope for victory lies with the French. From what I have heard, King Henry and his mignons already have a great admiration for Drake and his exploits. One of those painted fops actually wears a miniature portrait of Sir Francis. That could well inspire the king to come to Elizabeth’s aid. It is not impossible.”

“But not damn likely.” Jambe snorted. “Especially since the real power in this country seems to be that duc de Guise and his Catholic league.”

“Jambe speaks true, Captain,” Pietro said. “Didn’t that letter you deciphered say that de Guise has made some sort of devil’s bargain with the Spanish?”

“Letter?” Jane asked, glancing questioningly toward Xavier. He explained about the missive he had intercepted when he had captured the Spanish ship last spring.

“It was in code but the message implied that the Spanish king has paid de Guise to prevent the French from allying with the English by causing some sort of diversion.”

“What kind of diversion?” Jane asked anxiously.

“I have no idea. I am not even sure that I translated the letter correctly.” Xavier shrugged. “In any case, the duke never received the letter, so he has done nothing.”

“But surely by this time the Spanish will have found some other way to contact the duke,” Pietro said.

“Likely they have.” Xavier took a sip of wine. “As I told the pair of you before, I have no objections to seeking a place with Drake. But I must conclude my business with Queen Catherine this afternoon.”

Jane sucked in a deep breath. If talk of the armada made her fearful, Xavier’s intention to seek another audience with Catherine had the power to tighten her stomach into a hard knot.

“Captain, I know you want to protect that young girl by convincing the queen to leave her alone, but have you not already accomplished that?” Pietro demanded.

“No, I need to be sure.”

“But this game of yours has always been too dangerous.”

“Ah, but this time, I intend to win.”

Xavier cut off any further argument by getting to his
feet. “The rain appears to have stopped. My Lady Danvers must get back to her cousin’s and I have a rendezvous with a queen.”

He tossed some coins to Jambe to settle the reckoning and then extended his hand to Jane to escort her from the inn.