“We did, Your Majesty,” Matthew replied.
“I know full well your wife can speak for herself, Master Roydon. Let her do so.”
Matthew glowered but remained quiet.
“It was most enjoyable, Your Majesty.” I had just spoken to Queen Elizabeth I. Pushing aside my disbelief, I continued. “I am a student of alchemy and interested in books and learning.”
“I know what you are.”
Danger flashed all around me, a firestorm of black threads snapping and crying.
“I am your servant, Your Majesty, like my husband.” My eyes remained resolutely focused on the queen of England’s slippers. Happily, they weren’t particularly interesting and remained inanimate.
“I have courtiers and fools enough, Mistress Roydon. You will not earn a place among them with that remark.” Her eyes glittered ominously. “Not all of my intelligencers report to your husband. Tell me, Shadow, what business did you have with Dr. Dee?”
“It was a private matter,” Matthew said, keeping his temper with difficulty.
“There is no such thing—not in my kingdom.” Elizabeth studied Matthew’s face. “You told me not to trust my secrets to those whose allegiance you had not already tested for me,” she continued quietly. “Surely my own loyalty is not in question.”
“It was a private matter, between Dr. Dee and myself, madam,” Matthew said sticking to his story.
“Very well, Master Roydon. Since you are determined to keep your secret, I will tell you my business with Dr. Dee and see if it loosens your tongue. I want Edward Kelley back in England.”
“I believe he is Sir Edward now, Your Majesty,” Burghley corrected her.
“Where did you hear that?” Elizabeth demanded.
“From me,” Matthew said mildly. “It is, after all, my job to know these things. Why do you need Kelley?”
“He knows how to make the philosopher’s stone. And I will not have it in Hapsburg hands.”
“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Matthew sounded relieved.
“I am afraid of dying and leaving my kingdom to be fought over like a scrap of meat between dogs from Spain and France and Scotland,” Elizabeth said, rising and advancing on him. The closer she came, the greater their differences in size and strength appeared. She was such a small woman to have survived against impossible odds for so many years. “I am afraid of what will become of my people when I am gone. Every day I pray for God’s help in saving England from certain disaster.”
“Amen,” Burghley intoned.
“Edward Kelley is not God’s answer, I promise you that.”
“Any ruler who possesses the philosopher’s stone will have an inexhaustible supply of riches.” Elizabeth’s eyes glittered. “Had I more gold at my disposal, I could destroy the Spanish.”
“And if wishes were thrushes, beggars would eat birds,” Matthew replied.
“Mind your tongue, de Clermont,” Burghley warned.
“Her Majesty is proposing to paddle in dangerous waters, my lord. It is my job to warn her of that as well.” Matthew was carefully formal. “Edward Kelley is a daemon, as you know. His alchemical work lies perilously close to magic, as Walter can attest. The Congregation is desperate to keep Rudolf II’s fascination for the occult from taking a dangerous turn as it did with King James.”
“James had every right to arrest those witches!” Elizabeth said hotly. “Just as I have every right to claim the benefit should one of my subjects make the stone.”
“Did you strike such a hard bargain with Walter when he went to the New World?” Matthew inquired. “Had he found gold in Virginia, would you have demanded it all be handed over to you?”
“I believe that’s exactly what our arrangement stipulated,” Walter said drily, adding a hasty, “though I would, of course, have been delighted for Her Majesty to have it.”
“I knew you could not be trusted, Shadow. You are in England to serve me—yet you argue for this Congregation of yours as though their wishes were more important.”
“I have the same desire that you do, Your Majesty: to save England from disaster. If you go the way of King James and start persecuting the daemons, witches, and wearhs among your subjects, you will suffer for it, and so will the realm.”
“What do you propose I do instead?” Elizabeth asked.
“I propose we make an agreement—one not far different from the bargain you struck with Raleigh. I will see to it that Edward Kelley returns to England so that you can lock him in the Tower and force him to deliver up the philosopher’s stone—if he can.”
“And in return?” Elizabeth was her father’s daughter, after all, and understood that nothing in this life was free.
“In return you will harbor as many of the Berwick witches as I can get out of Edinburgh until King James’s madness has run its course.”
“Absolutely not!” Burghley said. “Think, madam, what might happen to your relationship with our neighbors to the north if you were to invite scores of Scottish witches over the border!”
“There are not so many witches left in Scotland,” Matthew said grimly, “since you refused my earlier pleas.”
“I did think, Shadow, that one of your occupations while in England was to make sure your people did not meddle in our politics. What if these private machinations are found out? How will you explain your actions?” The queen scrutinized him.
“I will say that misery acquaints every man with strange bedfellows, Your Majesty.”
Elizabeth made a soft sound of amusement. “That is doubly true for women,” she said drily. “Very well. We are agreed. You will go to Prague and get Kelley. Mistress Roydon may attend upon me, here at court, to ensure your speedy return.”
“My wife is not part of our bargain, and there is no need to send me to Bohemia in January. You are determined to have Kelley back. I will see to it that he is delivered.”
“You are not king here!” Elizabeth jabbed at his chest with her finger. “You go where I send you, Master Roydon. If you do not, I will have you and your witch of a wife in the Tower for treason. And worse,” she said, her eyes sparking.
Someone scratched at the door.
“Enter!” Elizabeth bellowed.
“The Countess of Pembroke requests an audience, Your Majesty,” a guard said apologetically.
“God’s teeth,” the queen swore. “Am I never to know a moment’s peace? Show her in.”
Mary Sidney sailed into the room, her veils and ruffs billowing as she moved from the chilly antechamber to the overheated room the queen occupied. She dropped a graceful curtsy midway, floated further into the room, and dropped another perfect curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she said, head bowed.
“What brings you to court, Lady Pembroke?”
“You once granted me a boon, Your Majesty—a guard against future need.”
“Yes, yes,” Elizabeth said testily. “What has your husband done now?”
“Nothing at all.” Mary got to her feet. “I have come to ask for permission to send Mistress Roydon on an important errand.”
“I cannot imagine why,” Elizabeth retorted. “She seems neither useful nor resourceful.”
“I have need of special glasses for my experiments that can only be acquired from Emperor Rudolf’s workshops. My brother’s wife—forgive me, for since Philip’s death she is now remarried and the Countess of Essex— tells me that Master Roydon is being sent to Prague. Mistress Roydon will go with him, with your blessing, and fetch what I require.”
“That vain, foolish boy! The Earl of Essex cannot resist sharing every scrap of intelligence he has with the world.” Elizabeth whirled away in a flurry of silver and gold. “I’ll have the popinjay’s head for this!”
“You did promise me, Your Majesty, when my brother died defending your kingdom, that you would grant me a favor one day.” Mary smiled serenely at Matthew and me.