Assassin & Betrayal by Lady Grace Cavendish

Author:Lady Grace Cavendish [Cavendish, Lady Grace]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-375-89879-2
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2011-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

Betrayal

To the real Jim Woolley—he knows who he is

THE FOURTH DAY OF MAY,

IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1569

Eventide

Now I am beginning my daybooke the second—the other is quite filled up. Today was very dull, sitting about winding wool for the Mistress of the Maids, Mrs. Champernowne. At least there is something happening tomorrow—we accompany the Queen to the docks at Tilbury. Very exciting! That is why I am scribbling away and getting ink on my smock, for I cannot sleep at all. Lady Sarah can’t sleep, either. She is writing a letter to her parents bemoaning how poorly she is clad and how all her raiment is utterly out of fashion.

At least the Queen sent me to walk the dogs this afternoon. She has often given me that task since my mother, the Queen’s best friend, died a year ago, God rest her soul, leaving me in Her Majesty’s care. I think she knows how much I enjoy playing with the dogs and spending time in the gardens, which I do, for that is where I find I am most reminded of my dear mother.

I changed into my horrible old hunting kirtle and then ran on tiptoes downstairs and along the painted passage to the door to the Privy Garden, where Mary Shelton was waiting with the dogs.

Now, I may like Mary Shelton better than I did—she has been very kind to me since my mother’s passing. But I didn’t want her getting nosy about what I do in the gardens—for I have a secret—so I invited her out with me. We raced up and down, with the dogs yapping away, and fairly soon she was red as an apple and puffing for breath.

“Oh Lord,” she said, “I must go in and sit down.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, putting my hand on her arm. “We could kick the ball for them again—”

“No, I need a rest,” she insisted, fanning herself with her hand.

“Well, I’ll run the dogs down to the Orchard,” I told her. “I’ll see you later.”

Mary went inside, mopping her face. I can be quite cunning when necessary—not for nothing has the Queen appointed me her own Lady Pursuivant (for the pursuit and apprehension of all miscreants who trouble the Queen’s peace at Court)!

I did run the dogs—throwing a stick for Henri, who is the chief of them despite being the smallest—and they all yelped madly. Then, when I was sure Mary couldn’t see me, I slipped through the little gate into the Herb Garden. We have just moved to the Palace of Placentia at Greenwich, which is one of the Queen’s most favourite residences. The palace gardens give right onto the river, and you can see the ducks and the swans and sometimes the pages and young henchmen fishing for salmon.

My friends Masou the tumbler and Ellie the laundrymaid have made a hidden place to sit inside the big yew hedge that surrounds the Herb Garden. And that’s where I found Masou, who was sitting looking worried, but there was no sign of Ellie at all.

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