CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A Dangerous Supper Date

The Queen eyes her brother, firmly, "Then you are with us, Edward?"

He returns her flinty gaze, "I am, your Majesty." The fact that he has called her neither 'Sister', nor 'Jane' says much for his sincerity, which is only compounded by his bow.

"All, then, is as it should be." She smiles, "For I have taken steps already to put a plan into action. Lady Rochford?" she turns to her Chief Lady, who nods, turns to a small coffer, and retrieves a black velvet pouch.

"This was a costly purchase, I fear," the Queen sighs, as she takes it, "but in the face of all that might be lost, it is a cost worth bearing." Opening the pouch, she carefully tips a gloriously red gem into her hand.

"God above, Majesty!" I cannot help myself, almost overwhelmed by my relief that all has been accomplished so easily and quickly, "You have it! How did you obtain Red Fire?"

She smiles at me, "This is not Red Fire, Sir Richard; but, in my study of it to seek out the flame at its heart, I became well acquainted with its looks. This is also a great ruby - and of identical cut - from the finest gem-cutter in London. It is my intention to swap it for Red Fire. As the King has never found the fire within it, he shall never see that it is not the gem he believes it to be."

"How much did it cost, Jane?" Hertford asks, almost nervously.

"If I told you, then you might truly faint." She admits, "I was obliged to part with some of our mother's pieces in order to pay for it."

"Then tell me where they were placed, Sister. I shall purchase them back, for the sake of our mother's name and for those that the King might wish to see you wear. Please, God, tell me you did not include any of the Royal richesse in your haul."

"I am not that much of a fool." She retorts, "Though Lady Rochford was kind enough to offer some of her own pieces - those that she was able to save when her husband was attainted."

Hertford sighs, "Perhaps you should furnish me with a list."

"I shall." She smiles at him sweetly. Hertford rolls his eyes, and I think I might be seeing a sibling ritual that has been a long part of their lives.

"How do you intend to switch the gems, Majesty?" I ask, for, if Wyatt is to be believed, the King is so enamoured of Isabella Sofre that I cannot imagine that he has even considered her presence for some time.

That is more simple an affair than you might suppose, Sir Richard," She says, briskly, "His Majesty has indicated to me that he would appreciate an invitation to supper from me at some time in the near future - and he has made it quite clear that it is at my discretion, and if I invite him, he shall come. I suspect that the presence of my rounded belly has reminded him that he has a prospective Duke of York to be thinking of."

She may love him, but she is not blind to his faults.

"As we have time to prepare, I shall issue that invitation today, for him to sup with me tonight - and perhaps even play cards for a while. Since he recovered the brooch, he has never let it from his sight, and wears it at all times that he is not sleeping. Thus I know that he shall wear it."

"Do you suppose that he shall allow you to work it from its setting, Jane?" Hertford asks, sceptically.

"Of course not, Edward," she replies, "When I was examining it to seek out the heart of flame within it, I noticed that it was loose in its settings, and I suspect that a solid knock - such as falling to the floor - could well dislodge it from its mount. I know my husband well, Brother; and I am more than able to charm him into allowing me to examine the brooch."

"Even after he lost it?

"Even then." She glares at him, "Thus, when the jewel is in my hands, I shall drop it - and claim that my hand was moved by my babe's kick - for it is moving within me now. Should the jewel come free, I can then reach for it and replace it in my hand with this ruby, and restore them to his Majesty with great remorse."

She seems to be waiting for a comment from us - but receives none, so she continues, "I shall then contrive to pass the gem to you, Sir Richard, and you can remove it to Mr Cromwell. I have already prevailed upon Jonathan to work Blue Fire from its housing upon my diadem - and I have it here." She reaches to a purple velvet pouch on a nearby table, and holds it out to me.

"If you are to pass the jewel to me, Majesty," I add, "then I must be in the room - though I fear I should make a dreadful servant."

"You shall stand to the side, Sir Richard - I have a number of ushers, who stand ready in anticipation of need. I suggest that you come to my aid when I drop the ruby."

"At which point the King recognises the missing Sir Richard Rich and calls the guards to arrest him." Hertford says.

"I rather think you overestimate his Majesty's ability to notice servants, Edward." Jane bristles.

"Livery or not, I recognised him the instant I saw him. He is a Privy Councillor, for heaven's sake - even the King could not be so blind!"

"Perhaps I should pass them to Lady Rochford, then…" she muses.

I shake my head, "That, you cannot do, Majesty. I am given to understand that they must pass from your hand to mine - I think it centres around being passed from the hand of the one who is to save all, to the hand of the Second." I screw my eyes shut as I dredge the words back up from my memory, "Your blessing, and my loyalty, are key to all."

"That I never expected to hear in the same sentence, Rich." Hertford smirks, "You and the word loyalty."

"Stranger things have happened, your Grace."

Queen Jane watches us a while, and sighs, "I agree, Edward. I think we would be most foolish to risk the King seeing Sir Richard as he is - even in the livery of an Usher."

"Do you wish me to hide, Majesty?" I venture.

"Yes - but in plain sight. I think there is one way that shall certainly cause the King to fail to recognise you."

I stare at her, dumbly; what does she mean?

She smiles again, "It's quite simple, Sir Richard: you must shave."

The invitation that Queen Jane dispatches is beautifully composed and written, and she is quite convinced that it shall bring his Majesty to her door this evening. In the care of Lady Rochford, it shall be delivered to the King via the Groom of the Stool.

I, on the other hand, have a far more disconcerting appointment, as Hertford grabs my arm and all but drags me into the Queen's bedchamber - a place I have absolutely no wish to go even if it were not to have my beard removed - while dispatching Jonathan to his quarters to fetch his shaving kit, for I certainly do not have one.

As Hertford sets to with a pair of scissors, trimming my beard almost to my chin, I imagine that he is relishing this; repayment for being made to fall into his own supper when we drugged him. By the time Jonathan returns with a wrapped bundle, I cannot imagine the disastrous mess that has been made of my previously neat and well tended facial hair. As I have no mirror in which to view it, however, I am not obliged to endure the sight of it.

Having deposited the shaving accoutrements, Jonathan leaves again, but returns with a basin of hot water. He views the floor at my feet with a sigh, for Hertford has not thought to lay down anything upon which the bristles are falling - so instead they adorn the carpet, and are scattered all over the front of my servant's livery. Sometimes, it seems that the high born are so high minded that they forget to be practical. But then, that is - it seems - what servants are for. Hertford does, at least, have the thought to stand aside with a sheepish air as Jonathan rather pointedly brushes down my doublet, and drapes a cloth about my throat to catch what ragged stubble remains.

I sit very still as Jonathan carefully lathers the wreckage, before beginning to work with a horribly sharp looking razor. I have not been shaved for longer than I can remember, and it is now that I realise why; for my chin feels as though it is being peeled. Slowly, almost painfully so, Jonathan patiently scrapes away, though his expertise is such that he avoids cutting me - but, again, I think this is because I do not dare to move.

When, at last, he is done, I feel a strange sense of chilliness against my throat and my face, for the air is reaching the skin for the first time in many years - I have not been clean-shaven since I was a youth. Almost tentatively, I reach up and touch the newly bared skin; and then Jonathan brings over a looking-glass, causing my eyes to widen in disbelief. I can barely recognise myself, so I have no doubt that the King shall fail to do so.

"Most impressive." Hertford approves, "Between your face and your livery, I think you can hide in a corner and, as the Queen wishes, be in plain sight." He pauses, then turns, "Remember: say not a word. While I doubt that his Majesty can recognise most of us from our voices, it is not worth the risk."

I nod - still rather shocked at my appearance.

Hertford waits only for Jonathan to re-pack the shaving equipment and pass it back to him - for Jonathan must remain, but the Earl should not.

"I shall deliver your sword to Wyatt, Sir Richard." He advises, then departs, while the Page sets to work on clearing up my scattered stubble from the carpet as best he can.

As he does so, I sit still, and ponder the one part of our scheme that is the most open to failure. While Red Fire might well be loose in its mount on the brooch, this does not mean that it shall fall from the mountings upon cue - and what if it does not? It could all fall apart in a single instant…

Jonathan leaves the chamber with the bundled cloths and the basin. With no one else present, I risk seeking help from the one untapped quarter, "Eminence, I think we shall need your help this evening - we cannot guarantee that the stone shall fall from the brooch if it is dropped. Can you assist us?"

There is no answer - but then, as the Queen's apartments are far from mine, and I do not have the coffer that Wolsey uses as his anchor, I should not expect one - not if Wolsey is to have sufficient energy to do what must be done. But then, I am not sure that he would even have that - so I cannot help but wonder if I have placed an unfair burden upon him. I do know, however, that he shall try; and that is all that can be hoped for.

I am still seated in the bedchamber when the Queen enters, and laughs at the sight of me, "My poor Sir Richard - what a change! I think that his Majesty most certainly shall not recognise you, for the difference is quite startling!"

"He has accepted then, Majesty?" I ask.

She nods, "He shall be here in an hour, which give us ample time to make arrangements. Jonathan shall serve us, for he does so frequently, and the King expects it. There is usually at least one other usher present, as is Lady Rochford, but I shall replace Paul with you, and send Lady Rochford to the Hall - I can say with certainty that the King shall not notice the change, for he pays no attention at all to the young men in my service. If our plans succeed, then you shall need to have a reason to depart, so I shall send you out to fetch Lady Rochford to me."

"What if his Majesty attempts to help you while you swap the jewels?" I ask.

She smiles, a little sadly, "That, he shall not do - for he lacks the agility to rise from a kneeling position, and thus shall not attempt to assume one. You should remain in place until I am upon the floor myself. Do not take too long to come to me, or he shall almost certainly strike you for being tardy."

"Yes, Majesty."

Jonathan hastily shows me where I should stand before he sets to work on the table. While supper would not be the largest meal of the day, the King seems quite able to gorge himself on a repast that would look excessive in comparison to a midday dinner to be shared by Cromwell, Wyatt and myself. The sheer quantity of victuals is astounding: a stuffed capon, a roasted carp, a fricassée of quail's eggs, a baked ham, several loaves of bread, roasted artichokes and that strange new vegetable from the east, that I have not yet dared to investigate, that they call cauliflower - liberally spiced and roasted. I suspect that is there purely for show - for such exotic foodstuffs are expensive. Perhaps Campofregoso paid for it.

It is, however, only as I smell the abundant victuals that I remember that I have not eaten since I left Grant's Place this morning, and I wish desperately that I could steal something from that table. So quickly have events piled upon me that I had not noticed whether I was hungry - but now I am. To see such a repast laid out before me, and yet to be forbidden to touch it, is a surprisingly miserable experience.

Jane smiles at me with sympathy, for I think she can hear my growling stomach; but even were it possible for her to offer me something to eat, there is no time. A discreet knock upon the door sends Lady Rochford to open it, and she admits the King, leaning upon his favourite Groom, Culpepper. He is dressed in a fine purple doublet, over which is a black, furred simarre that reaches to his knees. His jewels are, as always, extensive and ostentatious - and he wears the brooch, even though the ruby clashes ridiculously with his garments.

"Madam" the King says, as she curtseys deeply to him.

"Your Majesty," she smiles, "Welcome, please - be seated."

With Culpepper's assistance, the King lowers himself into the thickly upholstered chair set for him, before dismissing the youth. Still smiling, the Queen also dismisses Lady Rochford, who bobs a curtsey, "I shall be in the Hall should you need me, Majesty."

And it is just the four of us: The King, the Queen, Jonathan - and me.

"Are you well, my Lord?" Queen Jane asks, warmly, "You look well, but for your leg - is it troubling you again?"

"Not overly much, sweet Jane." Henry smiles at her, "Though I have been most pressed today. It is hard sometimes to accept the duplicity of those one trusts."

Despite herself, I can see her pale at this - for all dread the King's declaration of distrust, but he continues, oblivious to her sudden fear, "I was obliged to sign the warrant for the execution of that traitor Cromwell this afternoon. I have commuted his sentence to beheading. He shall die on Tower Hill two days from today."

Thank Christ I am standing against a wall. If not, I should surely have swayed and fallen - and I can feel the colour draining from my face at the thought. This cannot be happening, it cannot…we have only two days to save Cromwell, or all is lost. What if this does not work? What if we cannot switch the jewels? What if…?

Focus, Rich. Focus! Do not falter! Stand up and stand up straight! I keep the thought in my head and do all that I can to force the dreadful horror out. I cannot afford to show emotion now: I must be detached. I must focus - for Cromwell needs me now more than he has ever needed a Second before. If I fail him, then I have truly killed him - and I will not do it. I will not.

Queen Jane has the presence of mind not to look at me, I note, as I pull myself together. Instead, she nods, "That is most sad, my Lord - for I had thought him to be most loyal. How he has deceived us." Despite her calm, I can hear a brittle note in her voice. She does not wish to describe him so - even in order to retain the King's sympathy.

"Indeed so, my Beloved. It is, perhaps, my own fault - for I should have known better than to allow a man of such base blood to rise as high as he has. Only a Noble could truly be trusted - and if I find that equal traitor Rich, then God help him, for there shall be no mercy! It shall be Tyburn for him, dragged there on a sheep hurdle!"

And he has no idea that the equal traitor Rich is standing barely five feet away from him. God above, what if he recognises me now? But he does not even spare me a glance, instead reaching towards the capon with hand and knife, "But let us not talk of such things - for the Kingdom is safe from their wretched plotting, and they shall both pay for their calumnies with their lives. Our little Duke of York shall be born safe into a world where we are undisputed, and unmolested."

Slowly, gradually, and with great skill, Queen Jane charms her dangerous husband. It is, to be sure, a true education in how, as a woman, to manage Henry: for it is a perfect balance of flattery and compliments, seasoned with a light tang of teasing that pleases him inordinately. She might lack education, but she is both filled with common sense and skilled at seeing to the heart of people. Were she not pregnant with the King's babe, I could not help but imagine that her manner could be a precursor to attempting to conceive one. I am grateful that I can so enjoy her expertise - for it distracts me from my fears. Not so much for myself - for it is patently clear that the King has not even noticed me, clean shaven or otherwise - but for Cromwell: who could be destroyed by the simple act of a malicious accusation and a wrongly convinced King.

Jonathan expertly clears away the victuals to a sideboard, and replaces them with plates of comfits and sweetmeats. How on earth the King can still stand to eat, I have no idea, for he has devoured an almost impossible quantity of the enormous repast set before him. But he does - reaching for a handful of sugared almonds, and dropping them into his mouth, one by one, crunching them with his teeth with a sound like a dog crunching at a bone. For a moment, I feel quite sick.

"I am so glad that you have retrieved your brooch, my Lord," the Queen smiles, "I was so dismayed when I heard that it had been taken from you."

"Another crime for which that damned bastard Cromwell shall pay, my beloved," the King belches.

"Might I be permitted to see it? I do love the cut so much."

For a ghastly moment, I think he might refuse - but I have underestimated Queen Jane, for her smile is so coy, her eyes so wide and doe-like that he laughs indulgently, "Of course you may, lovely Jane - for I know that you of all people would not steal it from me - for you have stolen my heart first."

God, now I really do feel sick.

Smiling, he unfastens the brooch from his doublet, rather clumsily with his large, grease-covered fingers, and holds it out for her to take. As he does so, however, his hand seems to leap violently to the side, sending the jewel hurtling from his grasp to land not on the carpet, but upon the marble tiles of the floor. Such is the shock of the landing that, as we had hoped so desperately, the ruby is shaken from its moorings and leaps away from the filigree gold to land right at the feet of the Queen.

Wolsey. I think to myself. How he did it, being a shade, I do not know, nor do I care. Even so, I remain still, for neither the King nor Queen move - until she hastily slides out of her chair to crouch on the floor, fumbling for that fallen jewel, as she equally carefully reaches into a concealed pocket under her skirts. As she does so, I hasten forward to assist her, for the last thing I need is for the King to start berating me, in case he realises who I am.

As her babe is causing her belly to protrude now, she has no difficulty transferring the false ruby to her hand, and she then palms Red Fire as I reach her, passing it to mine as I carefully take her hand to help her back to her seat, for Henry has not moved. It's in my hand now. I have it…I have Red Fire…my God…

"My Lord!" she says, her expression mortified, "Oh dear, my Lord - the ruby has come adrift!"

To the relief of all of us, the King's answer is kindly, "Fear not, my lovely Jane, for it is still here - and what has fallen from its mount can be placed back there. Here, let me take it back and set it in my scrip for safety."

Without hesitation, she returns the brooch, and the flame-less ruby, to the King - before grasping my wrist, "Please fetch Lady Rochford to me, she is in the hall."

Rather than speak, I bow - rather more deeply than I would if I were not playing a servant, and hasten from the room.

I cannot believe it - the ruse worked. It truly worked! I dare not run, but still I walk as swiftly as I can through the corridors that I know shall lead to the Hall. While I am not as capable at finding my way as Cromwell is, I shall…

Oh God…I almost stop, as I remember the words of the King. In two days' time, Cromwell is to go to the block…

It takes a great deal of fortitude to make myself continue; for I know that, even if he must die, Cromwell shall gladly do so if he has destroyed Lamashtu first. That is all that matters to him now - and if it is the last thing he does upon this earth, then he shall be glad of it. I just wish I could be sure that it isn't.

Lady Rochford does not see me at first, for she has seen me only briefly without my beard, and it is only as I am almost beside her that she notices. I nod at her, and she nods in return - rising from her place at the table where she has supped, and departing the Hall.

Now to find Wyatt.

I can only assume that he is awaiting me in his quarters, so I hurry there. The ruby is still in my hand, gripped tightly, while the purple pouch containing blue fire is in my pocket. Despite my livery, I do not stop to knock at Wyatt's door, but instead burst in without preamble. He is sitting by his fire, and turns in surprise, "Who are you? Did the Queen send you?"

Heavens - he has not recognised me, my disguise is clearly better than even Hertford thought it might be.

"It's me, Tom." I step forward, so that he can see me in the firelight, for while there is still some daylight, it is fading, and little is reaching into his chamber.

"Richard?" He leans out of his chair, squinting, "God's blood! Richard! What do you look like?" and he is laughing.

"Stop your mouth up, Wyatt!" I shout, for the urgency of our situation cannot be more desperate, "Time is short - the King has signed the warrant, and Thomas dies in two days!"

He is immediately silenced, "God, no - what do we do?"

"I have them, Tom." I manage, my voice shaking a little, "I have the two jewels - I have Red Fire and Blue Fire." I open my hand to show him the ruby, and fish out the pouch to retrieve the sapphire. For a moment he is frozen, open mouthed at the sight of the gems that I hold. I have not searched for the fires within them, for it took Jane three days to catch the trick of finding the red fire, and my sighting of blue fire was naught but a fortunate fluke, so I have not the time to waste. As they sit together in my right hand, however, they seem almost to glisten for a moment - as though they are alive, and know one another.

"Then let us away, Richard." Wyatt is out of his chair and hastening across to a sideboard, "Hertford came by a while ago - it seems that he has changed his heart and is now with us. He left your sword and a warrant to enter the Tower. I did not know what to make of it - so I was perhaps rather wary, but it seems that he was not deceiving me."

"He was not. Come - we need to get to the Privy Stair - the light is fading, so God knows if there shall be a wherry we can hire at this time." I carefully replace both jewels in the pouch, and set it in my pocket again.

Our journey to the riverside is taken with great care, for we are both now armed, while Wyatt carries Cromwell's two swords as well as his own, and I have no cloak to conceal my sword. Fortunately, the weather is balmy, so cold shall not trouble me for lack of the cloak, as long as we are not seen with the weapons.

By the time we are at the Privy Stair, the number of boats is small - but one lone Wherryman answers Wyatt's hail, "Can you take us to the Tower Wharves?" he shouts across.

"That I can, Master - for I wish to tie up there. Come aboard!" he replies.

I cannot believe our good fortune, and we board hastily. It is then, as the wherry pulls away into the ebbing tide, that I hear it - a faint, faint voice that I can barely make out.

She knows, Richard. She knows - when the stones spoke to one another, she heard them. Lamashtu knows that the stones have been united - and she knows where to go to find the one for whom they are meant. Hurry, for God's sake, hurry…

Wolsey - Lord, he sounds so weak - but he has nothing to which he can anchor, and it must have taken so much out of him to call to me so far from my quarters - and after he had struck the King's hand, as well. But his words are the worst I could have imagined. Lamashtu knows that we have the two gems - and that we are taking them to Cromwell. She has only a short time left to destroy him, so we are racing her to the Tower, and it is almost certain that she shall get there first.