“Christ!” roared Carey, “If I could just see…”
“…which are clearly still disordered. And it’s just as well you can’t see, ain’t it?” said Thomasina as she climbed onto the chair. “Otherwise I’d be calling the cleaners to sweep away Heneage’s teeth and balls, eh? What a fool that man is.”
A tray was placed on the bed next to him by her woman and good smells came from it to distract him. He recognised a mess of rhubarb and prunes which were clearly on prescription from Lopez who must have the usual doctor’s faith in purging. He groped up a napkin and tied it round his neck to save his father’s dressing gown as he ate.
“Who the hell was the bastard talking about?” he asked with his mouth full of pottage and bread. “Do you know, mistress?”
“No, but I’m sure the Queen does and I’ll ask her the minute you finish your dinner.”
“Did you get a record of that meeting, Mr. Tovey?”
“Y…yes, sir.”
“Good. Make a copy of it for my father. Make a copy of the meeting with Lord Burghley as well.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m impressed at your ability to keep my Lord Treasurer from his bed, Mrs. de Paris,” Carey admitted. “When can I speak with the Queen?”
“When she chooses.”
Instead of protesting, Carey attacked a couple of very good braised quail in wine with his fingers and teeth. “Why the devil is she being so coy?”
No answer from Thomasina. And the quail had been stuffed with prunes as well. Jesu, he’d have the squits soon. He felt carefully amongst the dazzle and found a penny loaf to mop up the sauce. It was enraging, having to fumble around for food and he snarled at Thomasina when she offered to feed him. He found the salat of autumn herbs was too messy to eat and he didn’t like herbs much anyway, couldn’t understand why the Queen seemed to be so addicted to them, ignored the goddamned rhubarb. Tovey brought a bowl and ewer over to him and he washed grease off his fingers and face. Please God he never got blinded permanently or ever again.
“I don’t know how much more I can do before I’m better. I want to go and visit Cumnor Place,” he said to Thomasina. “But I don’t see the point if I can’t see. Most of the people I want to talk to are dead or otherwise unavailable.”
The chief of those he wanted to talk to was, of course, the late Earl of Leicester. Despite what he had said to Burghley, Leicester was the second most likely suspect still.
“When’s the Court removing to Oxford at last?”
“We’re going privately to Woodstock palace tomorrow so that the Queen can rest for a few days and deal with business before she makes her full public entrance on Friday.”
“The word was that the Queen was in Oxford a month ago-why has it taken so long?”
“Yes, we were due in August, but they had some cases of suspected plague and we took a detour while the town was checked. That’s why we’ve doubled back on ourselves from Rycote to Woodstock again. There haven’t been any more cases in Oxford.”
“Where is Cumnor Place, by the way?” Carey asked casually as he absentmindedly picked up the horn spoon and started eating Dr. Lopez’ medical dish. At least they had put sugar and spice in it.
“It’s about ten miles from here, due south,” said Thomasina.
“And from Oxford?”
“About three miles, southwest. But the Queen would prefer you to wait until you’re fully recovered.”
“Of course.” He drank more ale and then yawned. Thomasina clapped her little hands together briskly and a woman came and took the tray. He yawned again, rubbed his face.
“Sleep well, Sir Robert,” said Thomasina. “I’ll bring you more Privy Councillors to question in the morning.”
“Thank you, mistress,” said Carey, suppressing another yawn.
Once the door had shut behind her, he beckoned Tovey over to the bed and whispered to him very quietly. “Would you do me a favour, Mr. Tovey? Would you take this ring to the Earl of Cumberland? I lost it to him yesterday at a very peculiar game of chess and only just remembered.” It was his ruby ring with his initials carved in it that the Queen had given him for daring to take the news of Mary Queen of Scots’ execution into Scotland. He almost never hocked it. Tovey wouldn’t know its meaning but Cumberland did and would almost certainly be game for what he purposed. Be damned to his blindness, horses have eyes, after all.
Bless him, Cumberland was there quickly, swaggering in wearing a particularly loud combination of red and tawny, no doubt for the masque Carey had missed.
“What’s this I hear about you having been struck blind for general venery, Sir Robert?”
“Somebody put belladonna in my spiced wine last night. Was it you, my lord?”
“Damn, I never thought of that. Good idea, though. What were you playing at? You introduced my luscious Emilia to m’lord of Essex and next minute she’s gone off with him and you’re puking and raving all over the church. Completely wrecked my plans.”
“And mine. I’m sorry to tell you, my lord, that my eyes should get better soon enough but at the moment I can’t see properly which is a confounded nuisance as I have a lot to do.”
“And what do you want me to do?” Cumberland sat on the side of the bed and gave Carey back his ring. “Break you out again?”
“Yes, my lord,” said Carey and explained his plan.
The Earl put his head back and laughed. “By God, Carey, I’ll say this, you’re reliably entertaining. Two hours before dawn do you?”
“Yes, my lord. Thank you.”
“The Queen will know by sun-up.”
“She can hardly complain when I’m simply obeying her own orders.”
“She most certainly can, as you know as well as I do. Never mind. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Cumberland laughed again as he walked out past Sergeant Ross. Carey beckoned the swordmaster over.
“Where’s my father?”
“He went to Oxford as soon as he was sure you would recover, sir. He left about midday.”
Carey told Ross what he planned and why. “I don’t intend to try evading you if you want to stop me,” he told the man. “But I hope you won’t.”
“Your father ordered me to see you wisnae annoyed, sir,” Ross pronounced. “Seems I’d be annoying you if I tried to stop you.”
“Exactly, Sergeant.”
“So I’ll come with ye, sir.”
In the worrying absence of Sergeant Dodd, that was quite a comforting thought. Carey turned over and lay down in the welcome darkness of the curtained bed, only to have to get up again as Dr. Lopez’s prescriptions did their work. Finally he got to sleep, and was grateful not to remember any dreams.
Monday 18th September 1592, morning
Somebody had left the door open and he was freezing cold, shivering. The blankets had crumbled to useless papery things and some evil bastard had clamped a black helmet over the whole of his head so it was hard to breathe or see because whoever had done it was hitting the helmet over and over with a hammer.
Dodd tried to turn over and punch him and somebody poked a gun in his ribs. His fingers felt for his knife and found nothing but goosebumped skin and some painful bruises, plus his knuckles hurt.
“Och,” he muttered and tried to open his eyes. They were clamped shut which froze his arse even more with fright. Was he blind? Blindfolded?
The banging on his head was getting worse now. Shaking, he put his hand up to his eyes and found crusting all over them and crusting around his nose which he thought might be broken. The bit at the end of his nose was bent. Damn it, somebody had broken his nose. Again.
Before he could think too much about it, he gripped his fingers on the bent part and twisted it back to where it belonged.
Bright white pain flared through the middle of his face and then faded down through red and violet to a dull brown. His nose was bleeding again but not too badly and he could breathe a bit better.
From the feel of them, his lips were busted and a front tooth was loose but not lost. Whoever had kicked him had done it more than once but not aimed well.