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Chapter 22

The household at Ashridge closed tighter around Elizabeth as two tense weeks passed. She had enemies at Court and knew it. But it was her friends who brought danger with them.

Sir James Croft was admitted to Ashridge when he came asking for an interview with Elizabeth "on a matter of importance," because William Saintlow, a long-time servant requested she speak to Sir James. Moreover Croft's father had been Mary's learned counsel before he died and Sir James himself had been knight of the shire for Hereford. The last Elizabeth had heard about him was that he was deputy constable of the Tower of London, one of Queen Mary's many officers.

Sir Edward asked about the Tower and Sir James replied that he had not been there in some time, having been on a mission to Wales. Because Elizabeth wanted her household to look normal for the spies she was sure were seeded in it, Sir Edward no longer hung over every new arrival. It seemed safe enough to receive Sir James, and Shaylor was summoned to escort him in and watch him.

Elizabeth suspected Sir James had been sent by some member of the Council to again warn her against making contact with the rebels. She was certainly willing to listen and agree with total sincerity to obey such a warning. Her first inkling that this was not an unofficial visit sanctioned by one of the queen's  councilors was when Sir James, bowing over her hand, softly requested a private interview.

"I am very sorry, Sir James," she said, backing up a step and not lowering her voice. "I have been too often accused of taking lovers. I do not receive any man in private."

"But—" He shook his head, lowered his voice again. "I have news it is better for you to hear without witness."

Elizabeth did not like that at all. It sounded as if some action was to be taken against her and Croft had been sent to warn her of it. Her first panicked thought was that no councilor would risk his place to send her a secret messenger, but she really knew she did have friends on the Council. Sir William Howard was her great-uncle and was fond of her; the earls of Arundel and Sussex, although they lectured her against treasonous acts, had eyes that saw Mary was thirty-seven and frail and Elizabeth was next in line; even Paget who was his own friend first did not want her dead. If someone on the Council wished to deliver a warning he did not want Mary to know about, it would be unsafe to ignore it.

"My ladies can withdraw out of hearing," she offered without lowering her voice. "More privacy than that is not necessary and would do my reputation harm."

Croft frowned but then gave a brusque nod; he waited while Elizabeth gestured to her women to withdraw, then stepped closer. Elizabeth withdrew again and held up a hand to prevent Croft from coming closer. Plainly he wanted to whisper. Elizabeth did not care about hiding from her ladies the name of whoever had sent Croft; she wished only to keep Mary's spies from being able to say that she had a whispered conversation with a man who might be a messenger of treason. She remembered all too well her dangerous passage through accusations of a secret marriage to Tom Seymour. Then even so innocent a thing as a blush had been twisted against her.

"I wish to warn you that there may be some unrest around the country," he said.

Elizabeth drew a sharp breath. Her throat tightened and her heart leapt. Had Sir James been sent by Chancellor Gardiner to tempt her into admitting knowledge of the coming rebellion? When she spoke her voice was not hushed; it was high with shock.

"What are you talking about? I know of no unrest in this realm. There is no reason for any unrest."

Croft frowned again and shook his head. "I thought you would have received word . . ." Elizabeth's eyes widened and she stepped farther away from him. His expression puzzled, Croft added, "However you feel, my lady, much of the country is violently opposed to the Spanish marriage and to being driven again under the pope's yoke."

"My sister has a right to marry as she thinks best," Elizabeth retorted. "She said herself it is not the place of others to choose a husband for her. As to the pope, the queen has always been a devout Catholic and regretted the lack of the pope's guidance. That is a matter for the Council and the Parliament, not for you or me. I have heard and will hear nothing about unrest in the countryside."

"But it is dangerous, my lady. Remember there are two sides in any quarrel. It would be only simple caution for you to withdraw to a place of safety, like Donnington, where you can be properly defended."

Elizabeth shook her head. "Defended? Defended against whom? The queen bade me to go to Ashridge when she gave me leave from the Court. Do you carry an order from Her Majesty or from the Council that I move?"

Shaylor had come closer, his hand on his sword hilt. Croft looked nervously over his shoulder. "No!" he exclaimed. "But you would be safer in Donnington until the country is quiet."

Elizabeth was torn with indecision again. If there was a rebellion . . .  What if the rebels tried to take her and then the rebellion failed? Surely Mary would take advantage of her being with the rebels, even against her will, to order her execution. Still, Da had said she must seem to be ignorant of the rebellion and in such matters he was always right.

"I know of no unquiet," Elizabeth insisted, "but I will think about your warning. It is kind of you, Sir James, to be concerned for my welfare. If it is true that there should be any disturbance, I will consider your advice."

A finger twitch brought Dunstan out of the quiet corner from which he had been, as always, watching Elizabeth. An inconspicuous movement sheathed the knife he had been ready to throw. He stepped around the cluster of ladies and somewhere along the way picked up a salver on which there was a bottle of wine and a glass.

"Let me offer you some refreshment," Dunstan said, bowing and offering the tray.

His arrival effectively prevented Croft from saying anything more to Elizabeth, who, Sir James found by the time he had refused the wine, had turned away and summoned her ladies. She frowned slightly as she held out her hand to him to kiss in farewell, but it was to the ladies she spoke.

She had no idea how much if anything they had heard of the conversation, but she had no intention of keeping it secret. "Sir James," she said, allowing her eyes to follow him as Shaylor escorted him out, "says there is unrest in the country because the people are unhappy with the queen's choice of a husband. I cannot believe how foolish that is. The Council has arranged that Spain will have no power over this country. Still, Sir James thinks that we would be safer in Donnington."

"Donnington?" Alice Finch repeated. "Where is Donnington?"

Elizabeth shook her head. "I would need to ask Master Cecil who has been my surveyor for some years. I have never been to Donnington in my life."

"Do you think there is real danger of a rebellion?" Elizabeth Marberry asked.

"I cannot believe it," Elizabeth replied. "The queen is so kind and works so hard for the good of the people—" and cannot whittle down her Council so they could actually help her govern instead of fighting each other nor can she hold for an hour together to a plan . . . except to marry that pallid offspring of the accursed emperor. "Who could be foolish enough to rebel?"

"Perhaps you should ask Sir Edward to send out scouts so we would have warning if any unrest should start," Dorothy Stafford said. "Until there is any real danger, I would think it wrong to move from the place the queen designated for us."

"I think so too," Elizabeth agreed.

But she really did not know what to think about being urged to move to Donnington, and later, quietly, when Sir Edward came to tell her that the scouts he had long since sent out had found no local unrest, she suggested that he should order in extra arms and supplies for Ashridge in case of trouble.

"Against whom must we guard?" Sir Edward asked.

Elizabeth could only shake her head helplessly. "I do not know. I would not move to Donnington without an order from the queen or the Council, yet Ashridge is so spread out. I do not wish to be taken by the rebels and put up as a mock queen, like poor Jane Grey."

"Rebels." Sir Edward snorted. "We can keep you safe from them. But what if there is an order from the queen?"

Elizabeth shivered. "That I must obey. To fight against queen or Council is treason. I am Queen Mary's faithful and loving subject."

Sir Edward bowed, but there was anger in his eyes. Elizabeth shivered again. She could only be grateful that it was Tuesday and that night Denno would come to take her to the Inn of Kindly Laughter where she could get reliable news and good advice.

 

Elizabeth entered the inn eagerly, looking left to see whether anyone had preceded them. She was shocked to see a half-sized table with a family of gnomes seated in the space their table usually occupied. There had been too many shocks that day; her eyes filled with tears.

"We will find them, Elizabeth," Denoriel assured her and began to look around for a server. "There," he said, nodding at a pole about six inches thick with red and white stripes constantly rising to a round white head. "The server will know."

Elizabeth blinked at the thick pole; the moving red and white stripes sliding up and around made her a little dizzy. Despite her disappointment and anxiety, she could not help smiling and the fear that had made her so tense eased. "Of course we will—"

Her voice checked when, suddenly, the small table with its family party of gnomes began to slide around the wall of the inn. None of the gnomes gave any sign of awareness of the motion. Elizabeth closed her mouth. As she and Denoriel stared, a human-sized table at which Rhoslyn and Harry were seated slid into place. They also showed no awareness that the table had moved and looked up to greet Elizabeth and Denoriel, who hurried over and sat down before the table got away from them.

Elizabeth kept a wary eye on the wall behind them but then shook her head infinitesimally recalling that she could not detect illusion Underhill.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Denoriel opened his mouth but made no attempt to answer the question directly, only saying, "This is a very strange place . . . even for one of the great markets of Underhill. Were you aware that the table was not in its usual position?" Both Harry and Rhoslyn gaped at him as if he were mad, and he shrugged, abandoning the topic to ask, "Is Pasgen coming?"

Rhoslyn, looking pale and worried, said, "No. He came to leave a message at the empty house and I was fortunate enough to catch him before he left. It seems that he took Hafwen to a favorite Unformed land where he often collected power from the mist." She shrugged "I do not completely understand what Pasgen does, but somehow he draws power out of the mists. Only when he and Hafwen arrived he found what had been a rather gentle Unformed land was now an ugly chaos with dead places that stank of evil. The whole domain was stained and soiled. Hafwen, who is very sensitive to any taint of evil, was struck unconscious."

"Is she recovered?" Elizabeth asked. She did not know Hafwen well, but had liked the quiet Sidhe when she met her.

"Yes," Rhoslyn said. "It was only the shock. She begged him to leave her and discover what had happened. As you know Pasgen is clever with Gates. He was able to trace back from which Gate the evil had come and he followed it back and discovered a whole trail of cruel, brutal, and senseless crimes."

"That does not sound good." Denoriel frowned. "Has Vidal burst out into—"

"I don't know," Rhoslyn said. "I spoke to Vidal myself not very long ago and he was completely calm and self-contained. As he was I cannot imagine him wreaking such havoc for no purpose. And I cannot think of any purpose . . .  But Pasgen is . . . is going to report the trouble, and you know that Pasgen and Vidal never get along. I offered to go instead, but—"

"No," Harry said. "That makes no sense. You did not see the places. What could you really tell Vidal? Pasgen is no fool. If Vidal is gone mad, he will not stay to confront him. If this is none of Vidal's doing . . . the armed truce between them will hold."

"That is what Pasgen said," Rhoslyn admitted, "and the lindys is quiet, but I cannot help worrying."

Denoriel shook his head. "Aleneil is not coming either. It seems true enough that when one thing goes wrong, everything else does too." He hesitated. "I wonder if the trouble Pasgen has found is anything to do with Elfhame Cymry's problem."

"Cymry?" Elizabeth repeated. "I hope nothing serious is wrong there. I like visiting Cymry. Yes, Vidal tried to snatch me from there, but that was years ago and I enjoy the place. Mortals actually seem safe and happy there."

"Yes, well, that seems to be the problem," Denoriel said. "Cymry prides itself on the happiness and safety of their bound mortals. The Sidhe of that elfhame do not use magic for common tasks; they have mortals who farm and are servants so Cymry always has more power than they need. The Cymry Sidhe took a terrible vengeance on a Dark Sidhe who violated their rules, but recently several mortals have disappeared. Ilar came to fetch Aleneil to Cymry because sometimes she can See what has happened."

Elizabeth felt cold and alone, not because Alana was in Cymry but because she knew she would be deprived of her ladies if she were suspected of treason. She had been pleasantly distracted by the news about events Underhill. She was not worried about Pasgen, who could take care of himself, and she had complete faith that the Sidhe of Cymry would find and rescue their mortals. She did not want to be reminded of her danger. Soon she knew she would need to ask Da what he knew about the possibility of a rebellion, but not yet . . . not yet.

"So will you finally order something or are you all going to sit here all night talking?"

The pole of revolving stripes was standing beside the table. The white ball atop was not featureless all around. Apparently she had seen only the back of it when she and Denno had entered the inn. In the front, it had large eyes which seemed painted onto the surface; they had long, curling lashes. There was a line for the nose and two short curved lines to indicate nostrils. The painted mouth was formed into a slight smile. Elizabeth blinked. She could not decide whether or not she had seen the mouth move when the creature spoke.

"Oh, yes," Rhoslyn said. "I think I would like a light wine and some kind of fish."

"Broiled, baked, poached, breaded?"

Again, although she had been watching, Elizabeth could not decide whether the painted mouth moved. And she was sure it was the same server who had been the caterpillar and the besom broom. There did not seem to be any arms connected with the pole so it could not write down the orders as the kitsune who had taken its place wrote them down. And the way it had appeared when she did not want to talk about the coming rebellion. And the way the table she wanted had appeared when she was disappointed. It was all very strange.

Of course the Bazaar of the Bizarre was always strange, but Denno had remarked that the Inn of Kindly Laughter was peculiar, even by Sidhe standards. Elizabeth looked intently at the server, but it seemed as solid as any pole she had ever seen, except for the constantly rising stripes.

"Ah, broiled and medium spiced," Rhoslyn said.

The round, white ball nodded or, rather, rolled slightly forward and then back into position, since there was no neck to nod from.

"And you, little mortal?"

"Where do the stripes go?" Elizabeth asked.

A faint, chortling sound came from the interior of the pole. "That would be telling."

"So it would," Elizabeth said. "Please do tell. That is why I asked."

"What will you give for an answer?" the server asked.

Denoriel opened his mouth to protest, just as Harry said, "Elizabeth, be careful."

Elizabeth cast them both an irritated glance. "Fish," she said. "I will arrange for you to get a barrel of fresh-caught mortal fish if you will tell me where the stripes go."

The server emitted a gusty sigh. "I would like the fish," it admitted. "But I have no idea where the stripes go. I saw this barber pole and I liked it . . . so I copied it."

"What is a barber pole?" Elizabeth asked. "I know what a barber is and what a pole is, but together . . .

"This," the pole said, turning around so Elizabeth could see all sides of it, "is a barber pole." If a painted face could have a smug expression, the features on the round, white head certainly did. "Broiled fish medium spiced for one lady. What will the other have?"

Somewhat bemused, Elizabeth ordered baked goose and then Harry and Denoriel ordered. The server rolled its head toward Elizabeth again and tipped it forward.

"Respite has been granted," it said. "You must now gather your courage and grasp the nettle."

"What nettle?" Harry asked. "I swear that server gets stranger and stranger every time we come."

"I don't think it is a server," Elizabeth said softly. "I think it is one of the great mages who has made this place as a place of relief . . ." She let her voice fade and shrugged as the others looked at her. She knew that great mages were seldom altruistic. "So, let me grasp my nettle. Da, a man called Sir James Croft came to Ashridge today, and I am very much afraid he was sent by Gardiner to trap me into admitting I knew of the rebellion."

Denoriel took her hand and kissed it. "Elizabeth, you cannot be trapped. No one can really hurt you. I will come and take you away from any threat."

"I know that," Elizabeth whispered. "I know you can save me, but . . . that salvation would be hell to me. Oh, I love you my Denno, I love you with all my heart, but I cannot live Underhill. I cannot. Underhill is too easy. I . . . I want to be queen. I see what Mary does wrong and I burn to set all right . . ."

"And so you shall, my love," Harry said, and smiled. "In any case, you need not fear that James Croft came to trap you or was a spy for Gardiner or any member of the Council. He has no part in Mary's government. He is a strong and confirmed Protestant, and he is part of the brewing rebellion. In fact one of my informants tells me he has been talking to Courtenay about joining it."

"But his father was a counselor to Mary," Elizabeth said.

Harry shrugged. "That was many years ago. Counselor . . . hmmm . . . Sir Edward was no Catholic. Most likely he was trying to find a way to reconcile Mary with her father. Anyway Croft himself is so strongly attached to the reformist rite—and so unwilling to hide his convictions—that he was dismissed from his position as deputy constable of the Tower of London. He went off to Wales to raise men for the rebellion."

"Oh, God's merciful Grace!" Elizabeth exclaimed, her lips thinning. "He is a clever liar. He told Sir Edward that he went on a mission to Wales. Sir Edward thought he had been sent by the queen or the Council. We should never have let him into Ashridge."

Harry frowned. "What did he say? What did you say?"

Elizabeth repeated to the best of her ability, which was very good indeed, the conversation between her and Sir James. Halting at first, the tale flowed more smoothly as Harry nodded and the frown eased off his forehead. When she was done, he shrugged.

"It would have been better if you had not received him at all . . . no, perhaps not. No matter what you do, no one will believe that you had no knowledge at all of the rebellion. This way you can blame Croft for your knowledge if questions are asked."

"Questions?" Elizabeth's voice was not quite steady. "You mean the rebellion will fail and I will be suspect."

Denoriel took her hand again.

Harry sighed. "You must be prepared, my love. I am not Aleneil and cannot see the future, but I know men and their weakness. If the plans laid out for Courtenay by Croft are actually carried out . . ." He shook his head and sighed again. "No, I do not believe the rebellion can succeed, although there is much bad feeling over the introduction of the Catholic rite and Mary's plan to marry Philip has brought the anger to a boil. Some will rise."

"I do not care about that," Denoriel said grimly. "I want to know how to make Elizabeth safe."

"I do not know," Harry muttered, looking down at his own hands. "I would have begged her to forget the stupid mortal world, to come here and live with us, but you heard her answer to that already." He set his teeth for a moment, then said, "Elizabeth, you are much loved in the country. I do not believe Gardiner will dare harm you if there is no proof of treason." He reached out and touched Elizabeth's cheek. "You must remember and trust in your true innocence and never confess to supporting the rebels—"

"I never did support them," Elizabeth protested.

"That will be your defense."

"Why will the rebellion fail?" Rhoslyn asked. "If I can offer some comfort to the queen, she will be less inclined to give in to Gardiner's and Renard's demands to remove Elizabeth."

"Croft and Carew should never have approached Courtenay, who is loose-lipped and weak," Harry said. "I am certain he will betray them. They thought, because Courtenay took it very ill that Mary preferred Prince Philip, he would raise Devon for them. Courtenay believed the queen would marry him because Gardiner urged it. He thought he would be king."

Rhoslyn nodded. "Mary heard rumors that he had his servants bowing to him as if he were king already. She pretended she did not hear. I do not know why, but she likes Courtenay."

"Mary cannot hide what she feels and she does like him. I suppose that is what deceived Courtenay," Harry continued. "And Croft is a clever liar—not in words but by implication. He and Carew never intended Mary to marry Courtenay; they are all of the reformed religion. Croft and Carew intend to remove Mary and her Catholicism from the throne and to have Bess and Courtenay marry."

"Marry Courtenay?" Elizabeth shrieked, fear completely routed by outrage. "No! Absolutely not! Not even to save my life and gain the throne would I consider marrying that . . . that boorish dolt."

Harry began to laugh. "Courtenay is no more enamored of the prospect than you are. He wants the rebellion to prevent Mary's marriage with Philip and force him on Mary as bridegroom."

"Yes, but it is nothing to laugh about," Rhoslyn said. "Mary will have Philip—at any price. She is actually in love with Philip. She keeps looking at his portrait. And the trouble is that Courtenay is not only a dolt but a weak one at that."

"You mean that Courtenay has betrayed the rebellion already?"

Rhoslyn nodded. "He went weeping to Gardiner with the tale."

"What am I to do?" Elizabeth asked.

"Pray that there is no rising," Denoriel said flatly. "And if there is, do not lose your courage. You stood fast when Somerset wanted to use you to destroy his brother and you must do so again."

"I wish I could say that there is any likelihood Mary will accept your word and the evidence of her own people that you had no correspondence with the rebels," Rhoslyn said. "But there is no hope of that. If there is a rising, you and all your servants will be strictly examined."

"She will have me beheaded," Elizabeth cried.

"No she will not!" Denoriel snarled. "Always keep within reach a token that will permit me to open a Gate to you. Remember, I will not permit anyone to hurt you. Do not let yourself be overmastered by fear."

"No," Rhoslyn said. "There is danger, but I have made her fear any harm to you will somehow rebound on her, and I have reminded her constantly of how much you loved her as a child. Whatever she orders cannot be carried out in a moment, and as soon as she has time to think, she will refuse to order your death."

Elizabeth drew a deep breath. Not relief. Execution was an all too common reality in her life. Her mother, her cousin, her would-be lover, her meek and innocent school-mate had all died under the ax. That was one reality. That she had escaped similar threats by defending herself against her accusers was just as real.

The calming thought together with the determination to endure made Elizabeth long for a new subject. That seemed to conjure the barber pole, who suddenly appeared at the table with a serving cart. Rhoslyn, whose lips had parted to continue what she was saying, sniffed instead.

"That smells lovely," she said. "I am almost sorry I ordered just the fish."

"No need to be bound by your order," the server said, and a set of empty plates accompanied by knives and forks floated onto the table.

Then the dishes of food followed. Each dish was set closest to the person who had ordered it, beside the empty plate. Serving pieces appeared beside each platter.

"Help yourselves and pass it along," the barber pole said. "I have other clients to serve."

As it glided away Elizabeth made a small frustrated sound. "I cannot tell whether the mouth on that thing moves or not."

"We need Pasgen," Rhoslyn said, spooning fish and noodles garnished with sauce into her plate. "He is sensitive to spells."

"Mmmm," Elizabeth sighed as she took a mouthful of the goose and forked up some of the roasted, mixed vegetables. "This is as good as it smells." She pushed the plate to Rhoslyn. "Here, have some."

For some time the table was silent, except for the sound of the platters sliding over its surface and brief comments of satisfaction. The light wine Rhoslyn had ordered had come in a large flask and was also passed around. It did not cause any surprise that there was plenty of food and drink for all.

At some time during the meal, Denoriel was heard to mutter, "A great mage? But why?"

No one argued, but no one answered either. Elizabeth smiled to herself. It was true that she lost her power to see through illusion and feel magic when she left the mortal world, but she could still feel purposes no matter what the being. Eventually everyone pushed away plates empty but for a few scraps and bones.

Rhoslyn picked at a tiny shred of fish clinging to a bone and said thoughtfully, "The trouble is not with Mary. I can bend her opinion, but I cannot bind her to that opinion. Renard and  Gardiner both push her to be rid of you, Elizabeth. They both hiss into her ears that you are a snake in her grass and if she does not cut off your head, you will poison her and her faith."

"Why?" Elizabeth asked, her hands clenching. "Why do they hate me so?"

Rhoslyn shrugged. "For Gardiner it is not hate. Your death is good politics. The people love you, Elizabeth, and you can be used as a symbol to rouse them. There is no other heir to the throne that they would follow as they would follow you."

"But I have not tried to lead anyone!"

Harry snorted. "That has nothing to do with it. Remember the crowds that came out to watch you pass and cheer you when you moved to Ashridge? Also others use your name. Thank God these rebels have kept their cries to 'Stop the Spanish Marriage' rather than 'Crown Elizabeth.' "

"It is a matter of faith also," Rhoslyn said. "Gardiner is a devoted Catholic, more devoted because he weakened once and obeyed King Henry. As you know, he was imprisoned during Edward's reign because he would not conform to the reformed rite. And Gardiner knows that when Mary dies, if you rule you will not enforce the Catholic faith—not if it means subservience to the pope."

Elizabeth's lips thinned. She had never made any comment about Mary's plan to reconcile with the pope, but that was one aspect of Mary's return to Catholicism with which Elizabeth had no sympathy at all. She did not care a pin whether worship was carried out with gilt chalices and swinging censers of sweet incense or in an unadorned chapel, but to make England obey papal decrees was anathema to her.

"Well, he is right," Elizabeth said coldly. "I will break all relations with Rome as soon as I am empowered to do so . . . or let Rome break relations with me when I refuse to pay Peter's Pence. Perhaps Parliament will not wish openly to renounce Rome again, but I am quite sure they will agree to withhold papal taxes. I can keep my mouth shut as long as Mary is queen. I can go to Mass. But I will not promise to obey the pope."

"And there is no hope of Renard countering Gardiner?" Denoriel asked. "He has more influence on Mary than anyone else."

"No." Rhoslyn was flatly certain. "He wears a ring, a yellow diamond. It stinks of Vidal and glows with an inner light  whenever Elizabeth is mentioned. The one small hope with Renard is that he does know that Emperor Charles does not want Elizabeth dead."

"Vidal," Elizabeth said thoughtfully. "I had occasion to stop at the inn in the town of Ashridge the other day and there was not an imp to be seen or smelled. There were always imps in the inns in Hatfield. Could Vidal have lost interest in me?"

"I do not believe that for a moment," Rhoslyn said. "I think he does not wish to attack you for fear it will somehow spoil what he thinks is going his way. Likely he hopes Mary and Gardiner will take care of you. And I know he has not abandoned his interest in Logres. Mary has a new physician, introduced to her by Renard, and the man stinks of the Dark Court."

"Renard urged a Sidhe physician on Mary?" Elizabeth asked, wide-eyed.

"Not a Sidhe physician. The man is entirely human. He is a good physician too; he attended King Edward and did what he could for the poor boy, but he carries an amulet devised by Aurilia to carry him back to Caer Mordwyn and I can read the touch of Vidal on his mind." Rhoslyn frowned. "Vidal's touch is light, Aurilia's more marked."

"But surely Aurilia and Vidal do not wish any harm to Mary," Denoriel said.

"No, not at all." Rhoslyn smiled. "I think for once Vidal has no ulterior motive. The physician is just a physician and will do his best for Mary. Vidal wants Mary to live, to marry Philip, to try to force Catholicism on Logres. The greater the unhappiness in the realm, the more power of hate and misery leak down to enrich the Dark Court.

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