"Twilight for Anonymous…"
Disclaimer: Not mine but thine...O, Joss!
Archived at the Cicelyverse page of the Buffy Rebecca verse, or direct to story at www...
General audience level...
Summary: In a past life of Buffy and William, a certain story- and scene-stealing vampire gets his much-deserved desserts…
Part XXIII…
The dungeon at Essex House…
"We needs must finish quickly here, the Queen's Guard is approaching and we need these confessions…" Essex noted. "Once in her hands, she is sure to realize her fault in…"
All pausing to look at him…Including Bella and the now rather perturbed Willoughby…
My Lord? Zounds, what kind of idiot have I signed on with? A professional, like me?
Incredulous stares…
The Queen? Eliza I, daughter of Henry VIII? Harry the self-appointed infallable Pope's daughter?
Admit fault?
My dear Robert, DeVere, blinking…
I could almost pity you, your innocence and blame that dirty old woman for leading you on…
Dear God, Francis shook head. Willie, still in her cell, invisible, repressing chortle.
"Uh…Yes, well…" DeVere nodded. "I'm sure she will…"
Turn you into a speedy grave, certainly…
Bwwah…Anne chuckling in cell.
"Enough of that, papist whore!" DeVere cried.
"Hey!" Shakespeare fumed.
"Bring him out! And begin!" DeVere insisted. "Yes, lets waste no more time on this!" Essex called.
…
I sense a number of these folks wouldst like to vamoose…Anya, watching from behind half-drawn curtain of the improvised set in the Great Hall of Essex House, the nervous audience of generally, young and male, aristocrats, milling about. Held from flight far more by Essex's guard than loyalty…
And said guard clearly not all that keen on staying as well…
Jonson, seated on stool near, frowning at the guards commander who'd ordered him to stay put and sit down on his third approach…Hemmings, reasonably satisfied by the same commander's hissed promise of a degree of hope for safe passage out for the troupe, content to sit with the rest of the worried company on benches of the "throne room" set.
The commander now summoned by another guard coming from the front hall…Who bore a surprisingly relieved look, leading a comrade in.
That may bode well…Anya thought. Unless the Queen's offered pardon to Essex's men to turn on him…
Wish I could risk shifting from human just now…A well-placed rat might learn something.
The men eagerly speaking in hushed tones, several of Essex's audience, including Southhampton hurrying over.
"Ah!" Southhampton's pleased cry… "Good news, all." Taking elegant pinch of snuff from ring box on gloved hand.
No way…Anya stared.
Not even for her pretty pet boy and step(possibly more)son of her beloved Dudley would Eliza relent…
"Tis not the Guard in strength, the Queen hath sent an embassy to our friend." Southhampton, grandly. "Clearly her Majesty seeks reconcilement."
Guarded looks of relief and disbelief…
Nope, not the tobacco and opium talking…The guards commander gave guarded nods to looks.
Damn…Anya thought, struggling to hear as some of the company of actors, including Hemmings came over to listen as well. Frowning as a guard by the curtain leered at her…
Next time I come back as high-ranked aristocrat if not royalty…
Still, if the boys in steel have moved beyond abject fear…
"The Lord Keeper? Egerton?" several voices, raised now.
"What news, lass?" Jonson having joined the group of the company clustering now just behind the curtain.
"They say…The Earl says…The guards are reporting the Queen's sent the Lord Keeper."
"With how many? Have they said? Speak, lass." Jonson, anxiously.
"A moment, Mr. Jonson. No one's said more." She noted.
"The Queen must be looking to end this peaceably to avoid stirrin' the younger hotheads in Court." one of the boy actors, just out of female costume, shrewdly. "I'd wager she's offering Essex a chance to go alone to the Tower and face charges from the Council."
"He'll never do that." Hemmings shook head. "The man's a fool…" low voice. "But no one's that big a fool."
"Go! My Lord Essex is in the dungeon below…" Southhampton, eagerly to the guard commander. "Tell him the news and that he must come up and greet Sir Thomas. I sense a pardon in the wind, all." He beamed about him at the group. As the guard commander hurried to the hallway and dungeon entrance…
A very few cautiously nodding…Most regarding each other…
Eliza? A pardon now?
Still, it may mean a pardon for us…And perhaps just lengthy imprisonment for Bob. Though I would put my money on head in a basket for him.
…
"My Lord!" call from above…
Hmmn…DeVere, looking up the stairs…
That sounds almost like…A new and hopeful tone?
Could it be? Nah…There's no way Bob's getting out of this one.
"Always interruptions…" Essex sighed. "Pardon, Master Shakespeare, we'll attend to you and your examination in a moment. Yes?! Thursby?!"
Two guards holding Shakespeare firmly, just outside his cell.
Willoughby a bit relieved…
Seen the Henry IV and Vs, was hoping for a sequel…Pity if the author can't continue on account of death or permanent crippling.
Though must see if I can get a moment to run by him an idea I had for bringing Falstaff back…
I mean who wouldn't want to see fat Jack back, in a new and exciting adventure? Perhaps sent off to the Americas by Hal to capture some Aztec or Inca hidden treasures and achieve redemption and vast wealth?
Yeah…Jack Falstaff and the Temple of…
"Yes, my Lord…" the guards commander Thursby appeared on the stairs. "We've word…Sir Thomas Egerton, the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal is coming…With three others, my Lord."
"Three?" Essex stared. "No more?"
Whoa. DeVere blinked.
Mayhaps my friend Bob does in fact lead a charmed life…
"No more, by testimony of the guard come in…And this…" the commander had descended, offering Essex a parchment scroll.
"Hmmn…" Essex eyed the open scroll in hand. "'By…'"
Order…Order…DeVere sighed. I know reading comes hard for you, Bob, despite all the effort your (perhaps) stepfather Dudley put in with you, but…
"'…order of her…' Well, from the Queen, clearly…Lets see…Sir Thomas Eer…"
Egerton, you dolt…DeVere rolled eyes. You used to dine with him at Court regularly, in the good ole days when Eliza doted on your pretty face and the memory of your (perhaps) stepfather.
"Slayer…" faint whisper to Anne in her cell. She carefully avoiding any show of surprise or looking about at the invisible Willie.
"The Lord Keeper is coming, Bob?" DeVere urged.
"Yes…It doth seem so." Essex nodded.
"And what perchance does he say, in that?" faint smile.
"Not much after a lot of rather unnecessary fubbubs…Titles and such, I presume. He just says…Yes…" Essex peered. "'Allow me to inform…Your Grace…That Her…'" Hmmn.
"Majesty?" Edward, smiling, brittlely.
"Yes…'Her Majesty hath ordered me…More titles and such…To Essex House…To require My Lord Essex to…'" Peers… "'attendant…'"
"Attendance?"
"Yes, attendance…The damn scribe has a foul hand… 'Attendance to the …P…R…"
"Privy?" DeVere, brightly.
"Yes, that's it… 'to the Privy Counselor…'? Uh…Oh, yes… 'Council…No later than the Hour of nine…on the…Mo…Morrow', yes." Essex beamed.
"Excellent." He nodded. "She is calling for my return. All will yet be well."
"Bob…I think this is a summons. Not an invite." DeVere noted. "And exactly like the one you received the other day, merely a bit more pointed, given the bearer(s)."
"What?" Essex stared. "That can hardly be. I told the Queen's man I would not be summoned for examination but only to retake my rightful seat on the Council."
"Well…It would seem the Queen has other ideas." DeVere noted.
As in…Thwack…Into the basket.
Though it seems Eliza does fear a scene…Hmmn…As entertaining as it might be to see Bob desperately groveling before the cursed ole bitch, fawning to kiss her hand, I'd rather prefer to avoid having to face examination myself and be forced to make a display of my abilities, particularly within the limitations of daylight.
And then too, there's the bother of having my estate attained until my "descendant" can appear before the new sack of guts on the throne and make nicey-nice to get my lands back. It was such a pain with Henry VII, dour ole bastard.
Now, now… Eyes us. Naturally as a major force of Evil I could dispense with Royalty and individual royals but there are some things like divine right (of brute force and wealth) that must be upheld. Besides the damned Council of the Watchers has a deal with the Dark Powers' Senior Partners…No killing or turning of royals.
No, best to make my escape soon after persuading my old chum Bob to ignore this last chance and boldly/insanely march to damnation.
But first…My Immortality awaits, he eyed Shakespeare, still under guard, awaiting his fate but with considerable interest in attending the conversation.
And my Slayer…He looked over to Anne in her cell…Offering him a glare.
She tasks me, she tasks me…And I will…Have her…Yet.
Say, that's not bad…I should run that by Shakespeare…
And Bella is becoming a bit tiresome, a new and spicy cow for alternating would be nice.
Though the woman will have to learn to walk with some elegance…I get Lady Frances didn't have much time to train her but she's still clomping about like a milkmaid with her load.
Hmmn…
Speaking of dear Lady Frances…Queen's Lady, friend…Fellow demon transplanted to foul human…Preggers foul human.
Nothing spells pardon like saving a preggers human doted on by the Queen.
Yes, after having tried to make my old pal Bob see reason and submit to Your Majesty's noted and bounteous mercy, my only thought was for the safety of poor Lady Frances and her child, poor dear girl who'd only sought to convince Essex…Yes, Essex her lover…Just the thing…Of the need to surrender. Oh, yes..And I saved these other two wenches as well. It's just the sort of thing Eliza likes.
Pity about poor Shakespear though, your Majesty, lost in the struggle…But in fact, as I can now reveal to the world with this authentic copy of my play, "Richard II".
Hmmn…Perhaps I really should have gone for one of the others given the subject matter at this time…But, sadly unavoidable. And now I have his style on paper, any good scribe can copy out his "Romeo…etc, etc".
"Lady Frances?" he'd maneuvered back slowly to her cell door.
Damn…What is that smell…?
Baby human in human/demon, I suppose.
…