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Dorothy leaned over and whispered, “You do know that the earl was married to someone else before he was married to the Lady Seymour.”

I shook my head ever so slightly, so she continued.

“Lord Edward was married to another woman first, but she is supposed to have continued having relations with Lord Edward’s father, so her husband put her aside. Many believe Edward Seymour’s first two children to be his brothers and not his sons.”

I opened my eyes widely and Dorothy nodded wisely. It brought her great pleasure when she shared a fact with me that I didn’t know, so I squeezed her hand and whispered that she should tell me the rest later that evening. I was hoping to rekindle our friendship, which had burnt down to a lukewarm ember since I began to room with Elisabeth Brooke. I felt, at that moment, pity for Edward and how he’d been wronged. His wife had certainly made up for his baseborn children, however, having already given him a handful plus one more, the fact of which caused great pain to my barren lady. I now understood a bit better Anne Stanhope’s fierce loyalty toward her husband and her willingness to tangle with any who stood in his way. When I married—and my mind drifted fondly to Jamie—I should be fiercely protective of my husband too.

Her Grace indicated that Lady Seymour should step forward. She did, and seeing that the women were few and like-minded, spoke freely.

“Askew has been arrested again. I’ve heard that she’s being held at Sadler’s Hall, and interrogated. She’s borne up well thus far but has little in the way of warm clothing, money for foodstuffs, or a word to hearten her.”

Sadler’s Hall was the guild for saddlemakers; we had one near my home in Marlborough as well. It was not a bad place but also not the kind of place to restrain a highborn young lady nigh on twenty-five.

“We should assist her,” Stanhope declared.

I knew my lady well enough to know she was holding back a tart reply about “we” assisting Askew. “What do you suggest?” the queen asked.

“Her brother is the king’s cupbearer. Could he be of assistance?”

The queen nodded and dismissed all but a few of us; I was among those who remained, as was the Countess of Sussex. I looked at her closely, remembering her prophecy about Mistress Askew. ’Twas comforting, of a sort, to know there was another woman nearby with that gift. It made me seem less peculiar, and I thanked God for the knowledge of her. There might have been many others, but none of us spoke of it and I was relieved that, these three years past, no further prophecy had been given to me. I oft forgot I had it at all. But it waited.

“Juliana.” The queen drew me near. “I have had Margaret run certain discriminating errands for me, in the past. Now that she is gone, I wonder …”

“Yes, madam.” I spoke up, thrill and fear racing one another through my limbs. “I will serve you however I may.”

She conferred with her closest circle of women and then said, “I shall give you a letter and a purse to bring to the king’s cupbearer, Askew’s brother. If he seems inclined to assist, after some delicate conversation on your part, pass these along to him. If not, you may return to me. I will decide what to do then. You must wear something that indicates you are well-bred, but not something likely to draw undue attention.”

I hurried back to my chambers and changed. I prayed quickly that I might be useful for Her Majesty.

I hid the letter and the small purse that the queen gave me and made my way to the king’s chambers, and beyond, to where his men stayed. Further down the hall were the lesser chambers of his lower servants—still all nobly born or gentry.

“I seek Edward Askew,” I said to a page. “The king’s cupbearer. I am here on an errand for the queen.”

“Certainly.”

I waited in the hallway whilst he found Askew. I was not going to be seen entering a man’s chamber, for certes, ruining my reputation for all time. After a few moments a tallish man with teeth bent upon one another like awkward saplings came to the hall.

“Her Grace would like to ensure that the king’s wine is not oversugared,” I said. “She has a concern that his health may be better served with less. Until she can speak with his physician, as his wife, she’s attending to this matter.”

Edward Askew looked at me a bit strangely, but agreed. “I endeavor in all ways to attend to the king’s well-being, as long as His Majesty agrees to the taste.”

I looked at him. “You seem familiar to me. Are you the brother of Anne Askew?”

He spat on the floor. “Better she should be called Kyme, the name of her husband, rather than spew her unwomanly nonsense and bring further disgrace upon the name Askew.”

I nodded and kept the letter and purse well within my sleeve. “I see. Mayhap we have not met before. I shall tell the queen of your sentiments regarding the king’s wine. Good day.”

“Good day, mistress,” he said, bowing his head curtly afore taking his leave.

I returned to the queen’s chambers and shared with her and her attendants the exchange between myself and Edward Askew.

“What now?” Kate said. “She’s like to be unwell with no one to care for her, nor funds for physic or food.”

“We shall find another way to get the monies to her,” Lady Seymour said. “I shall send one of my most trusted pages.”

“And if they do not allow a man not from the council to see her?”

“Send me,” I interrupted. “I shall cloak myself, and truth be told, I am of so little account that few outside of your circle know of me, Your Grace.”

They agreed, and shortly thereafter I was met by a young man wearing the blue livery of Edward Seymour’s household. I had not been on the streets of London before, only at my lady’s properties or with the court, and thus was uncommonly excited. I fixed my hat down low and drew my cloak about me.

We took two horses and made our way down the freshly paved streets till they churned into mud alleys. I was thrilled to be outside of the palace. The streets were lined with markets and peddlers and all manner of mean people, not unlike Marlborough but many times over. They shouted as they hawked their wares, lark pies, roasted nuts, and spices. Women of a vulgar sort boldly hawked their wares, too, as they loitered outside the taverns, their gowns barely covering their slack skin. I pulled my cloak about me, glad that their life was not mine.

“We’ve arrived,” the young man riding with me said as we pulled up to the guildhall. He brought our horses close to the door and bid me stay with them. I had never been out alone, without a servant, and I admit to a certain unease. Others looked closely at me; it was clear our horses were expensive.

The servant came back. “They’ve taken her to the Counter prison. Or the Compter, on Bread Street.” We rode down that street, slowly. “Next time,” he muttered, “if there is one, I shall not ride so fine a horse. Draws too much attention and I’ve already got difficulties fending off questions from Lord Wriothesley’s pages.”

We arrived at the prison and the servant spoke to the warden and then returned to me. “A woman can visit,” he said. “To offer feminine comfort. But not a man. Be quick.” I pulled my cloak about me again and went inside.

It stank of decomposing defecation and the sharp smell of blood. Vermin not only lurked in the corners but raced down the corridors. They seemed overbold to me, their beady eyes not bothering to turn aside as I stared at them, rather taking it as a challenge to come yet nearer.

I saw her; there was no doubt who she was, the only young, pretty, highborn woman there. I came close to her cell and whispered, “I have comfort to offer, my lady. And a coat, and a purse.”

She looked upon me, her eyes sharp and focused. I could feel her courage like a weapon at her side and I admired her for it. “Who are you?”