Connecticut Vampire in Queen Mary's Court by Hall Ian

Author:Hall, Ian
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, vampire, horror, scifi, adventure, paranormal, timetravel, medeival
Publisher: Ian Hall

Chapter 17

December 6th, 1553

In the Depths of Conspiracy

The tavern got cleared of normal patrons before we stepped inside, followed by Sir Edward Croft and his whole entourage. “I prefer partisan surroundings,” he said, walking up to the landlord with a jingling purse. “Whatever anyone wants, I’ll pay.”

“Yes, your lordship.” He began taking orders, shouting at his wenches to get to work.

Sir Edward Croft looked about forty, and although he bore himself well, he slumped on a chair, showing signs of an active past life, perhaps catching up with him. Greying at the temples, he also seemed to be well used to a drink, downing a whole tankard of ale in one swig.

“So, my new friend, tell me more of the people you know.”

“My grandfather served Prince Arthur until his death, and I’ve met both Princess Elizabeth and her lady, Kat. We have often talked together.”

“Have you now?” He slapped my shoulder. “And will you rise?”

“For Elizabeth, yes,” I began. “England can do without Spain’s influence.”

“Well said, well said.”

I’d never met a man more eager to put his head on a block; the more drink he consumed, the more beans he spilled.

The rebellion had been planned for March next year; four counties would rebel, simultaneously raising armies and marching on London. To my horror, they talked of the possibility of raising in excess of 20,000 men.

And they had international aid; a French fleet would race into the Channel to block any possible involvement by Spain.

When I got back to Walterston House and Elizabeth, I held my tongue. There seemed no way I needed to tell her. After all, what she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her later if the rebellion failed. She could hardly admit to having been involved if she knew nothing at all.

Then in December, the weather broke, and we got our first fall of snow.

Steve and I talked about the rebellion, then decided I should play both sides to a point, by returning to London, and reporting my findings both to Fakenham and the Queen. But we’d leave Elizabeth out of the loop.

With my usual trip to Hereford looming, I took off the next morning, making quick work of the thin dusting of snow on the ground.

Despite my vampire speed, due to the ground conditions, it took all day to get to London.

And five seconds to get a face-to-face with Fakenham.

I told him everything I knew, then watched him process it for a moment. “From Croft’s own lips?”

“Yes, sire.”

“Wait here.”

So I waited, and then five minutes later, found myself with Fakenham, the Queen, and Simon Renard.

“Tell them,” Fakenham said. His face looked impassive, his stance unnatural, as if he wanted me to feel uncomfortable.

“I cannot, sire.”

“Why not?”

“Because, sire, my Queen has not instructed me to include the Ambassador into our circle.” I hoped that would inform the Queen; I too felt uncomfortable.

“Sir Richard, you can tell Monsieur Renard anything.” The Queen spoke slowly.

So it had taken the Frenchman a year of fawning, but he had finally hooked his fish, and she sat on his barb, exhausted and ready for eating.

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