ordered.
I left Ellie at the door and went in. I found theQueen sitting with her feet up on a footstool, and her stays unlaced, poring over a legal document.
After I'd curtsied, I told her exactly what Rosa had said and what I'd found out about the double ale, and who had brought it.
The Queen frowned when she heard it was one of Sir William Cecil's men. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Where is the firework master's daughter?”
“I can send for her at once, if Your Majesty pleases,” I said, thinking I could ask Ellie to fetch her.
“Please do,” the Queen replied. “And then wait in the anteroom until I send for you both.”
As I left to find Ellie, the Queen called the gentleman who was guarding her door and ordered him to fetch Sir William. Then she waited, tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair, her face cold and angry.
I went into the little anteroom where servants wait, and found Ellie there petting the Queen's dogs.
“Please go and fetch Rosa for me,” I said. “The Queen has just sent for Sir William Cecil.”
Looking very serious and excited, Ellie nodded and then ran out the door.
I waited and waited, putting my ear to the door of the Queen's chamber every so often. Mrs.Champernowne says eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves—but sometimes you just
have
to know what's happening.
At last I heard Sir William Cecil's voice. “I am very glad you sent for me, Your Majesty, as I have just had another dispatch—”
“That can wait, Mr. Secretary,” the Queen interrupted frostily. “I would first desire to hear what you know of the accidents of yesterday.”
“Terrible carelessness,” said Cecil. “I understand the groom that neglected your saddle when preparing for the hunt has been demoted by my Lord of Leicester, and—”
“Someone had cut the stitching with a sharp knife,” the Queen interrupted again.
“Good heavens!” Cecil exclaimed.
“And the statue, Cecil,” the Queen went on, “had been tampered with. And as for the firework that went off course—someone brought the firework master drugged ale to drink. While he was asleep, the miscreant came in the guise of a merman, and lit the fuses so that one of the rockets nearly hit me and did in fact injure one of the tumblers. And so he was well-nigh a murderer—in that he was reckless of the consequences of his actions—as well as a traitor.”
“I am horrified …,” Cecil gasped.
“Cecil, do you know who sent that ale?” the Queen demanded abruptly.
“No, Ybur Majesty,” Cecil replied.
“I find that strange, since it came from you and was brought by one of your liverymen.” The Queen's tone was as sharp as a sword blade. It was terrifying.
“What? I never sent ale to a firework master! Wh-why should I do so? I—I am n-not—” Cecil was stammering.
“Silence!” roared the Queen. “I do not believe you have been directly endangering me. But it is possible you have been engineering accidents to discredit my dear Robin, the Earl of Leicester.”
I was fascinated. I peered through the crack in the door and saw Cecil as white as a sheet. “I would never—” he began.
“Have you been trying to make me doubt the Earl, and believe he is becoming careless of my safety, so that I would turn my eyes to the Swedish Prince and like him the better for saving me? It would make sense, would it not, Cecil?”
There was silence. Then I heard the thud of Cecil's knees on the floor.
“Your Majesty”—his voice sounded choked, genuinely devastated—“I would never … I have never—”
“The ale for the firework master was delivered by a lad who wore your livery,” rapped out the Queen.
“But it was not sent by me or
from
me,” said Cecil, his voice strengthening. “I utterly deny this accusation, “Your Majesty. I know not who has been speaking against me—”
“Not against you, no, for she barely knows the significance of what she tells me,” said the Queen.
“
She?
Hmph. Some foolish
I left Ellie at the door and went in. I found theQueen sitting with her feet up on a footstool, and her stays unlaced, poring over a legal document.
After I'd curtsied, I told her exactly what Rosa had said and what I'd found out about the double ale, and who had brought it.
The Queen frowned when she heard it was one of Sir William Cecil's men. “Are you sure?” she asked. “Where is the firework master's daughter?”
“I can send for her at once, if Your Majesty pleases,” I said, thinking I could ask Ellie to fetch her.
“Please do,” the Queen replied. “And then wait in the anteroom until I send for you both.”
As I left to find Ellie, the Queen called the gentleman who was guarding her door and ordered him to fetch Sir William. Then she waited, tapping her fingers on the arm of her chair, her face cold and angry.
I went into the little anteroom where servants wait, and found Ellie there petting the Queen's dogs.
“Please go and fetch Rosa for me,” I said. “The Queen has just sent for Sir William Cecil.”
Looking very serious and excited, Ellie nodded and then ran out the door.
I waited and waited, putting my ear to the door of the Queen's chamber every so often. Mrs.Champernowne says eavesdroppers hear no good of themselves—but sometimes you just
have
to know what's happening.
At last I heard Sir William Cecil's voice. “I am very glad you sent for me, Your Majesty, as I have just had another dispatch—”
“That can wait, Mr. Secretary,” the Queen interrupted frostily. “I would first desire to hear what you know of the accidents of yesterday.”
“Terrible carelessness,” said Cecil. “I understand the groom that neglected your saddle when preparing for the hunt has been demoted by my Lord of Leicester, and—”
“Someone had cut the stitching with a sharp knife,” the Queen interrupted again.
“Good heavens!” Cecil exclaimed.
“And the statue, Cecil,” the Queen went on, “had been tampered with. And as for the firework that went off course—someone brought the firework master drugged ale to drink. While he was asleep, the miscreant came in the guise of a merman, and lit the fuses so that one of the rockets nearly hit me and did in fact injure one of the tumblers. And so he was well-nigh a murderer—in that he was reckless of the consequences of his actions—as well as a traitor.”
“I am horrified …,” Cecil gasped.
“Cecil, do you know who sent that ale?” the Queen demanded abruptly.
“No, Ybur Majesty,” Cecil replied.
“I find that strange, since it came from you and was brought by one of your liverymen.” The Queen's tone was as sharp as a sword blade. It was terrifying.
“What? I never sent ale to a firework master! Wh-why should I do so? I—I am n-not—” Cecil was stammering.
“Silence!” roared the Queen. “I do not believe you have been directly endangering me. But it is possible you have been engineering accidents to discredit my dear Robin, the Earl of Leicester.”
I was fascinated. I peered through the crack in the door and saw Cecil as white as a sheet. “I would never—” he began.
“Have you been trying to make me doubt the Earl, and believe he is becoming careless of my safety, so that I would turn my eyes to the Swedish Prince and like him the better for saving me? It would make sense, would it not, Cecil?”
There was silence. Then I heard the thud of Cecil's knees on the floor.
“Your Majesty”—his voice sounded choked, genuinely devastated—“I would never … I have never—”
“The ale for the firework master was delivered by a lad who wore your livery,” rapped out the Queen.
“But it was not sent by me or
from
me,” said Cecil, his voice strengthening. “I utterly deny this accusation, “Your Majesty. I know not who has been speaking against me—”
“Not against you, no, for she barely knows the significance of what she tells me,” said the Queen.
“
She?
Hmph. Some foolish
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