Chapter 4: Treason

Whitehall Palace, London. 1569.

Peter wasn't as bad a dancer as he claimed, and for Sara, this was a dream come true. She hoped she'd be able to sneak in an additional dance with Neal later in the evening. The almain was followed by a pavan and then a saraband. Why did Walsingham reappear just as the queen called for a volta? Peter's relief, though, was evident. Sara had warned him about the suggestive dance where the woman was lifted high in the air by her partner. It was the only Elizabethan dance where partners engaged in close body contact. The queen was reportedly fond of the volta. Would she and Dudley perform it?

With nothing to do until Neal and Henry returned from the abbey or Peter concluded his meeting with Walsingham, Sara was free to absorb the sights and sounds of the evening. At a signal from Howard, the dance area cleared. Courtiers packed into a circle around the perimeter, Sara among them. Her heart beat faster as she watched for any sign that the queen would dance. Sure enough, it didn't take long for Dudley to lead Elizabeth to the center of the circle.

Robert Dudley was a handsome man with short dark hair and a rakish cropped beard. The way he bore himself reminded Sara of a strutting peacock. The effect was enhanced by the plumes in his cap.

The volta was every bit as scandalous as the descriptions Sara had read, although with all the layers of clothing Elizabethan women wore, they probably didn't feel much when they were raised into the air. Sara paid careful attention. The seed of a future book on Elizabethan dance was sprouting in her mind. If she used extensive research sources, she wouldn't appear to have an inside track of how the dances were performed.

"Stunning, isn't she?" a voice murmured in her ear.

She turned her head to see Thomas Howard standing behind her. In the crowd, she'd failed to notice his approach. She curtsied as she caught her breath. The man didn't look anything like Nigel . . . except in his eyes. And there was something about his voice that made fear slither through her stomach.

Did he recognize her? She hoped the Swedish accent supplied by the language amulet would keep her identity a secret. "My lord," she murmured, acting the part of a shy Swedish princess. Her English was heavily accented.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, extending his hand palm up.

"I don't know the steps," she demurred.

"It would be my honor to teach you."

Should she? It would be a way to keep him preoccupied. Many of the other courtiers were dancing. Peter hadn't returned yet. "Then I gladly accept, your grace."

#

Walsingham led Peter through a side chamber into a small room furnished as an office. Waiting for them was William Cecil. The man was about fifty years old with a long steel-gray beard. Eventually he would become Lord High Treasurer. In 1569, he'd already served several years as Secretary of State. His face was lined with the cares of high office, making him look older than his years. Cecil was sitting at the desk, Neal's forged letter in his hand.

"Ambassador Kalmar, I present to you Sir William Cecil," Walsingham said.

"I am honored, your grace," Peter said, removing his cap and giving a bow.

Cecil rose and returned the bow. "I assume you read this letter. Then you know who wrote it."

Peter nodded. "Philip II of Spain."

"How did you acquire it?"

"We suspect Philip of instigating papist sentiment in Sweden," Peter said, keeping his remarks as general as possible. It wasn't his intention to cause any problems for the Catholic faction in Sweden. The new king was married to a Polish woman who was responsible for relaxing restrictions on Catholics in Sweden. Under the circumstances, it was natural that Protestant factions would worry about Philip's interference. "One of my informants intercepted the letter and held onto it until my arrival. I was told that during this period the Duke of Norfolk was meeting with the Earl of Westmoreland at Brancepeth Castle near Durham."

Later in 1569, Howard, along with several others, would take part in an uprising known as the Rising of the North to depose Elizabeth. The insurgents' headquarters at Brancepeth was likely already known to Cecil. Referencing the location could increase Cecil's trust in Peter's story.

"This letter implies that the duke is responsible for the queen's betrothal to Lord Dudley," Cecil continued, his face an impassive mask. "Are you charging that Dudley is also plotting to overthrow the queen?"

Peter shook his head. "I believe they're taking advantage of his sincere attachment to the queen. My informant warned me that the Duke of Norfolk is the ringleader in the plot. He's a member of a group of devil worshippers known as the Cult of Starry Wisdom."

Cecil's eyes narrowed when Peter mentioned the name. "I've heard of them. Reports of their influence have increased over the past couple of months."

"We've experienced their pernicious influence in Sweden," Peter said solemnly, lying through his teeth. "They worship someone called Azathoth. We're convinced that's their name for Satan. The leaders are called priests and particularly dangerous." He lowered his voice still further. "We've obtained clear proof that they're witches. For now, they're allying themselves with papists, but their eventual aim is to overthrow governments and churches alike."

"Is this letter the only proof you have of the Duke's involvement?" Walsingham asked.

"If I may be so bold, what more do you need? Howard is a sorcerer who practices his foul deeds through witchcraft. Now he has ensnared the queen and Lord Dudley into his wicked scheme."

Cecil studied Peter for a moment, revealing nothing in his expression. "Your words are profoundly disturbing if true," he said noncommittally. "Do you have any material evidence besides this one letter?"

"I do. Dudley's perfume. It's in reality a love potion prepared either by the duke or by members of the cult. Ask Dudley where he got the perfume, and he will tell you Lord Howard gave it to him." Peter was swinging from the rafters with that wild leap, but Sara was sure Dudley's cologne was the same one used by Nigel in London. They'd discovered it had the same chemical base as the perfume worn by Raquel, and Neal was convinced that the priestess of Isis wore the same perfume. There had to be a connection. Why not a love potion?

"Anything else?" Cecil asked, raising a brow

"Have you inspected the embroidery on the underskirt of her majesty's gown? Among the plants and animals, some of the creatures will give you pause. One is a demon associated with the Cult of Starry Wisdom. It's a creature shaped like a ball with black and yellow stripes. It has wings like a bat and several long tentacles. I ask you, have you ever seen a similar creature in England? Surely such a monstrosity could only serve Satan."

Was the case he outlined strong enough or would Cecil write him off as a crazy Viking?

Discovering the outcome of their actions was the weakest link of their plan. They'd know immediately if they'd successfully recovered the Elnath ruby in the crown—Peter refused to call the act stealing. He also had faith that Henry's thief skills were up to the challenge of lifting the crystal from the chain around Howard's neck. But the best way to find out if they'd managed to break off the engagement would be to hang around, and that introduced too many unknown factors. So instead they'd return to Arkham, wait a few weeks, and see if history would be rewritten. If it wasn't, they'd need to make a return trip.

"Thank you for sharing your views with us, Ambassador Kalmar," Cecil said. "I've kept you away from the festivities too long. I know you wish to return."

With a final low bow, Peter withdrew. Wishing he could be a fly on the wall accomplished nothing. A higher priority was checking in with Neal and Henry.

#

Henry paused at the entrance to the great hall. "You're positive this will work?" In his head were flashing sirens of impending disaster.

"It always has up to now," Neal said. "Remember, Mozzie used the same argument when El was worried about us catching smallpox."

"Then I should be the one," Henry insisted. "After all, I'm going to lift the dude's necklace. It would be a natural consequence."

Neal rolled his eyes. "We've already gone over this multiple times. I have to be the focus of attention. If it happened to you, nobody would think twice."

"Jeez, thanks. Next time I get to play a prince." Grumbling didn't reconcile Henry to a plan that even for him was too dangerous to pass muster. Neal was right that Henry was the only one who could lift the crystal, but Henry didn't want to think about what Peter's reaction would be. If Henry pointed out that they were simply living up to their moniker of scholar and adventurer reprobates, would it make any difference?

When they walked into the hall, a dance was going on in the center of the room. The queen had arrived and was sitting on a raised dais with a young dandy which Henry assumed to be Dudley.

"Change of plan," Neal murmured, his eyes locked onto the dancers. "Look who Sara's dancing with."

"Where?"

"Off to the left, near the spectators."

The musicians were playing a lively tune. Sara's partner was Howard. They weren't touching each other but they were definitely a couple. "How do you want to play it?" Henry asked.

"Irate husband works for me," Neal said, glowering at them. "In Sweden, wives are only permitted to dance with their husbands."

"Is that true?"

"I have no idea, but it sounds good. I'm a prince, after all. And my Swedish curses will convince him of my wrath. Thanks to your language amulets, you and Sara will understand me. I'll be able to alert her on how to play it." Neal had no difficulty playing the role of an angry husband. He was already directing daggers at Howard with his eyes.

"Peter spotted us," Henry said. "He's heading our way."

"Good, but we need to be done before he arrives."

"Agreed." And thus avoid the need for explanations.

Neal strode off, quickly making his way through the crowd of onlookers. Henry maintained a leisurely pace while preparing to move into position at the proper moment. By the time Neal reached Sara and Howard, his face blared outrage for the world to see. Henry could well imagine what images Neal was psyching himself up with. He'd been seething for a confrontation ever since he'd discovered Nigel was making a play for Sara. The moment had come.

Howard was facing away from Neal. When Sara spotted her fake husband, she stopped dancing, the smile on her face vanishing.

"Unhand my wife!" Neal demanded in Swedish, grabbing Sara's arm and pulling her behind him. "What devilry did you use on the princess? She never would have danced with you of her own free will." He repeated the words in heavily accented English before letting loose a string of obscenities in Swedish.

"Your wife was only too happy to dance with me," Howard blustered, quickly recovering from the shock. The couples immediately around them had stopped to watch, but the rest of the people in the hall didn't seem to notice. Most likely the queen was unaware of the incident.

Neal lunged at Howard, targeting the side where his dagger was sheathed. It appeared that Neal was reaching for it. Henry had positioned himself directly behind Howard.

A flash of steel and then Neal staggered back, clutching his side. Howard stared at him, the bloodied dagger still in his hands.

#

When Peter saw Neal approach Howard, he quickened his own pace. Surely he wasn't going to risk a confrontation. Or was this part of a scheme to seize the crystal?

He could see Neal arguing with Howard but he wasn't close enough to catch the words. The next thing he knew, Neal was lying on the floor. Sara slapped Howard's face when the courtier reached for her.

Damn the crowd for blocking his view. Peter forced a path through the onlookers, ignoring protocol.

By the time he got there, Howard was also on the floor, looking dazed. His chain was missing, and Henry was nowhere to be seen. Neal was sitting up with Sara crouched beside him. He murmured something in her ear as he pressed his hand to his side. Blood flowed between his fingers. His face had grown ashen.

"Your Highness," Peter blurted, barely remembering to address him correctly. "You're bleeding!"

"It's nothing. Just a graze." Brave words, but his face told another tale. Sara reached under her skirt to rip off a length of petticoat.

Peter spun to face Howard, clamping his foot onto his chest. "You did this!"

"I was simply trying to protect myself," Howard protested, his face almost as pale as Neal's. Two yeomen guards approached him from behind.

"He tried to kill my husband," Sara protested. "Arrest him immediately!"

Howard felt around his neck, his eyes widening "Where's my chain of office?" He scanned the floor frantically. "Who took it? Guards, search everyone!"

Cecil suddenly appeared behind them. "You can retrieve it later. Guards, take the duke to my office."

"Not until my chain is found!" Howard roared.

"You forget yourself," Cecil said dispassionately. "Haven't you caused enough of a disturbance?" He jerked his head to the guards. "Take him away." Turning to Neal, Cecil added, "Your Highness, I'll call for a physician."

"Thank you but that's not necessary," Neal said. "The ruffian merely grazed me." Sara had secured his side with several layers of cloth. Neal's eyes darkened. "But if I hadn't leaped back, it could have been much worse. I insist on being present during the questioning."

"As do I," Sara declared.

"I suggest we all retire to your chamber," Peter told Cecil in an undertone. "Her Majesty does not yet appear to be aware of what transpired, and that's for the best."

Cecil gave a brief nod and turned to the onlookers who were watching the proceedings with rapt attention. "The situation is under control. Please return to the dance." He proceeded to chat with the courtiers while Walsingham guided their group in the direction of the same chamber Peter had been in previously.

"How badly are you injured?" Peter murmured, supporting Neal as they followed Walsingham. Neal was leaning on him much more than a graze would warrant.

"It's nothing to be concerned about," Neal whispered back. "It will heal quickly."

Was he only saying that because he was counting on the wormhole? Sara was keeping pressure on the makeshift pad on his side and Peter didn't have a chance to examine the wound. Once they were in Cecil's office, Neal was able to rest on a carved oak settle along the wall. Sara used Neal's dagger to rip off more strips from her petticoat and bind the pad in place. Peter sat down next to them, burning with questions he couldn't ask.

When Cecil arrived, Howard immediately demanded, "Has my chain of office been found?"

"We have far more grave matters to consider," Cecil said calmly and turned to Neal. "Your Highness, I regret that we meet under such lamentable circumstances. Would you like some wine?"

"Thank you but do not trouble yourself," Neal said with a resigned air. "We will retire to our quarters shortly. I arrived in the hall to see my wife dancing with the Duke of Norfolk. In Sweden, that is a severe breach of etiquette. The princess would never consider dancing with anyone but me. She must have been coerced. When I accosted the Duke and ordered him to lay his hands off her, he attacked me."

"The prince is mistaken," Howard said, appearing to have tamped down on his anger. "I invited the princess to dance, not knowing that she was married. She accepted readily."

Sara rose, her face flushed. "He bewitched me! I never would have danced with him if he hadn't used witchcraft."

She stood slightly in front of Neal, who had locked his gaze on Howard. Beads of sweat were forming on Neal's brow. When he started to slide sideways, Peter grasped his shoulder and wedged himself behind Neal's back to support him.

Howard barked a short laugh. "Clearly she's trying to save herself from her husband's wrath. I apologize for the scratch, but surely you aren't going to believe sorcery was involved. It was an honest misunderstanding. I thought the prince was reaching for my dagger. It wasn't my intention to use it on him. I was trying to keep it out of his reach."

Sara pointed a trembling finger at Howard. "He's a sorcerer! He's in league with Satan!"

Neal breathed in short, ragged gasps. He was bathed in a viridian aura, making Peter wonder if he was trying to make himself invisible.

"You need to lie down, Your Highness," Peter urged. If the kid kept at it, he was going to hyperventilate his way into unconsciousness.

A cry from one of the guards caused Peter to look up. He gasped at Howard's transformation. Two horns emerged from the top of his head. His face was a fleshless skull with flaming red coals for eyes. Walsingham and Cecil staggered back in horror. They shouted frantic orders for the guards to seize Howard but the men looked too terrified to approach.

The effect only lasted a few seconds and then vanished. Neal sagged onto Peter and mumbled, "We need to leave . . . now."

Sara dropped onto the settle next to Neal. "The pad's soaked in blood," she whispered urgently.

Peter leaped up. "Now do you believe us? That man is a sorcerer. It's up to you to control him before he destroys your realm. I'm taking the prince and his wife away before Howard can target them again."

They strode out of the chamber with Neal supported on either side by Sara and Peter. Their exit was barely noticed. Walsingham and Cecil were busy arguing with Howard while guards bound his hands behind his back.

Neal managed to hold himself upright till they were in the corridor then his legs gave way. Sara was caught off guard and sank down to the floor with him.

Henry was waiting for them in the passageway. He darted forward to assist.

"Give me a moment," Neal gasped, his face drenched with sweat.

"Sorry, kiddo. We're getting out of Dodge now," Henry said. "You can rest in the wormhole." He and Peter hoisted Neal upright. Jerking his head to the right, Henry added, "There's an alcove next to that tapestry. It's where I was waiting. It should give us enough cover."

"The sooner the better," a panic-stricken Sara urged.

The alcove was only a few steps away, but Neal's eyes were already closing. Peter pulled out the compendium and pressed the button, uttering a silent prayer that it didn't malfunction.

#

Mozzie was sitting in front of a bank of monitors in the lab when Neal jumped out of the vortex. Peter, Sara, and Henry followed in quick succession. Everyone was back in the garments they'd worn to enter the wormhole.

"You have the crystal?" Mozzie asked eagerly

"Not just one but two!" Neal said, retrieving the Black Prince's Ruby from his pouch. The chain of office was draped in splendor around Henry's neck.

"How do you feel?" Sara asked anxiously.

"I'm . . ."—Neal hesitated and modified his assessment. Judging by the set to Peter's jaw, he was in no mood for sugarcoating—"tired but otherwise fine."

"What about the wound?" Henry asked.

Neal pulled up his navy turtleneck to check his side. He turned around so they could all see his skin. Only a painful memory was left. Neal had little recollection of the attack by the saber-toothed leopard Sornoth on Merope, but he'd been fully conscious this time. Howard's blade had gone in much deeper than hopefully anyone realized. Not something he ever wanted to repeat, but the plan had worked.

"What are we supposed to be looking at?" Mozzie demanded. "Do you realize how difficult it's been for me, sitting here without updates? In the future, Milly and I will insist on a regular schedule of communications."

Peter's lips tightened into a thin line. "You may have preferred not knowing. Neal was stabbed by Nigel."

"But as you can tell, the wound is gone," Neal said, handing Mozzie the ruby. "The gem in Henry's necklace is also an Elnath crystal." A change of subject was in order before Peter questioned him further.

"We believe it was meant to be Nigel's escape route back to Tirelia," Sara explained. "We hope he's now stuck in 1569, awaiting trial for witchcraft, treason against the queen"—she slipped an arm around Neal's waist—"and, worst of all, attacking my husband."

#

That night as Neal lay next to Sara in bed, she asked the question she knew was uppermost in Peter's mind. "Did you intend to be stabbed?"

Neal crossed his hands behind his head and gazed up at the full moon through the skylight. "Henry and I discussed it. As we walked back from the Pyx Chamber, we realized that more than the letter would be needed to make the charges stick. We also knew we had to create a diversion so Henry could steal the chain of office."

"And my dance with Nigel presented the ideal opportunity," she said, resting her head on a propped-up elbow.

"It was a gift," he agreed. "Otherwise, I was going to approach him and strike up a conversation, somehow goading him into a response. I thought if I pretended to reach for his dagger, he'd simply punch me. We knew there was a chance I'd be stabbed, but I was hoping for a graze. Do you think he recognized you?"

"I believe so. He commented that I reminded him of someone he'd met in London who was a writer. How were you able to transform Nigel's appearance?"

Neal hesitated. "I can't explain it. Milly said I was capable of manipulating algolnium energy, so I thought it was worth a shot. Seeing how he'd transformed himself to look like Howard is what gave me the idea. I focused on his face and imagined what he'd look like as a demon from Hades." He shrugged. "Glad it worked."

"And then some. You made a believer out of Cecil. I wish we knew what Nigel's actual appearance is."

"About all we know for certain is that his body chemistry contains a high percentage of algolnium."

"I don't blame you for seizing the chance to stop him." Although you could have picked a less risky maneuver.

"You don't have to worry that I'll make a habit of flinging myself on my sword." He rubbed his side. "There's no wound, but I can still feel it. I have no desire to repeat the experiment."

Sara nodded, tamping down her fear. What if they hadn't been able to return the present so quickly? If the wormhole hadn't immediately formed when Peter activated the compendium, Neal could have died. But there was no point in bringing up the obvious. Neal already knew what a narrow escape he'd had.

So instead she snuggled beside him and lightly ran her finger down his chest. "I know a way to distract you from those memories."

#

Life quickly returned to normal after the extraordinary events in London. Even if Neal had wanted to step back and reflect, he couldn't—not with students waiting for him in the classroom. Everyone returned to their normal jobs. Mozzie and Peter also had courses to teach. Sara returned to the Arkham Gazette. Henry continued preparations for the upcoming relocation of Talmadge Holdings. The university president was ecstatic about the move. He hoped it augured for an even tighter relationship with the university's major benefactor. Neal suspected Calvin's wish would very likely come true.

On a snowy afternoon a week later, Neal was working in his office at Wingate Hall when Henry stuck his head in. "Got a minute? I need to pick your brains." He glanced at the stack of books. "And it's not about whatever esoteric language you're studying at the moment."

"You mean you're not interested in Sanskrit loanwords occurring in Chinese? I'm shocked."

Henry grinned as he dropped onto the side chair. "I figured you'd need a break, but I didn't know how much. I think I may have found the perfect location for Talmadge Holdings. It's on Trinity Avenue not far from the university."

"I noticed the building next to Whateley Rare Books is on the market. Is that the one?"

"Yeah, it used to house law offices," Henry said. "The building has historic significance and features some interesting architectural details that Fei should like. The thing is, it badly needs a facelift. Not just minor stuff. Some of the areas will have to be gutted. That's not unexpected since I was planning to have it rewired anyway. But since it's on the historic registry, I'll have to work with an architect. Do you have any recommendations before I start combing through the Yellow Pages?"

"The job sounds perfect for a friend of mine. His name is Eric Torres. He graduated from Miskatonic a few years ahead of me. He's about your age."

"If he left Miskatonic before you, how'd you meet him?"

"Eric's mom is in the Spanish department at the university," Neal explained. "I took a course on Old Castilian with her. The language developed from a variant of colloquial Latin which was spoken—"

Henry made an X with his hands. "Too much info."

Neal grinned. "Gee, I was just warming up to recite the epic Poem of the Cid. You'd love it."

Henry snorted. "Now I know you're joshing me. Is Eric as much an egghead as you? Will he and I even talk the same lingo?"

"You two should get along well. He likes beer and is into rock music. He hangs out at the coffeehouse a lot and has probably heard you play." Neal hesitated. Should he mention Eric was gay? Henry might think he had an ulterior motive and that wasn't the case.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "You sound like you're good friends."

Neal nodded. "Eric was Jack's roommate in college. That's where I first met him. He'd like to specialize in restoring old buildings but he's just getting started. I imagine jobs are tough to come by."

"I didn't know you and Jack went back that far."

"Yeah, he was in the fine arts program at Miskatonic."

"How did he wind up running a coffeehouse?"

Peter's arrival interrupted Neal's explanation. "We did it!" he told them triumphantly.

"The queen's no longer betrothed?" Neal asked, growing excited in turn.

Peter gave a satisfied nod. "I stopped by the library this afternoon and Lavinia brought my attention to a textbook on the Tudors. In it, Elizabeth was never engaged to Robert Dudley."

"Does it mention anything about a conspiracy involving the Duke of Norfolk?" Henry asked.

Peter smiled. "I'm glad you asked. Thomas Howard, the Duke of Norfolk, was executed in the summer of 1569. He was accused of working with King Philip of Spain to restore Catholicism. The duke was further convicted of practicing witchcraft. There were rumors that he used witchcraft to advance the cause of Lord Dudley. Mention was also made of a love potion."

"Was Dudley implicated?" Neal asked.

"He was imprisoned for a short while but subsequently released. The tribunal believed he'd been an innocent victim. The only significant changes to what earlier occurred are that the Duke was executed three years earlier and witchcraft was included in his charges," Peter added. "Under the circumstances, both are acceptable deviations."

"Cyrus told me that he'd obtained a chemical analysis of the Black Prince's Ruby currently in the Imperial Crown," Henry said. "He's convinced that it's the same jewel Milly created." He perched on the edge of Neal's desk. "We assume that Nigel went back in time to assist the cult in controlling the queen. But he may have also learned about the Black Prince's Ruby. He has Elnath scientists working for him. Perhaps they, like Milly, have the ability to locate Elnath crystals."

"You should bring it up at the next SCAGR meeting," Peter said. "Milly makes use of Celaenian technology. The Elnath could have other means at their disposal."

"I intend to," Henry agreed. "It won't change our plans, but it adds an extra degree of urgency."

Neal nodded. "And gives us another reason to return to Tirelia. Perhaps someday we can free the Elnath scientists, even work together."

Peter eyed him for a moment. "Not to be a wet blanket, but any idea on how you'll accomplish those objectives?"

Neal frowned. "Goals are good, Peter. I want the world to be a safer place for Baby Gilman."

"On that, we all agree."

Notes: Two crystals were recovered, the timeline was restored, and everyone escaped without lasting damage. Not a bad outcome for the team. But Lavinia is uneasy. Were any anomalies created by their actions? Time travel can cause unpredictable repercussions which can take a while to appear. She might point to Penna Nomen's story A Caffrey Christmas Carol as an example. It not only included time travel but also alternate universes. As a result of that experience, Henry's been holding onto a copper penny from the year 2012. That penny is the subject of my next Arkham Files story. The title is Penny Exchange.

In New York Neal's timeline, it's late March. A few weeks have passed since his New Orleans adventure, Voodoo Remoulade. It's time to liven things up with my next Caffrey Conversation story. The title is Attack of the Kraken.