The Queen's Dwarf A Novel by Ella March Chase Page A

did not consider Raleigh’s doings wizardry. He saw science as deciphering God’s fingerprints upon the world. Prince Henry made those around him believe it was God’s intent that we explore His mysteries. Everyone in England loved him save one.”
    “Who was that?” I asked, plunging my arms through the holes in the doublet.
    “The duke of Buckingham. He favored Prince Charles. Tutored him in manly arts and the sports that helped him grow strong.”
    I thought of the duke’s single-minded determination to keep the queen beneath him in the king’s esteem. Buckingham would have loathed rivalry with the king’s gifted son.
    “How did the prince die?”
    “A fever. It struck so suddenly, some people say…” Evans hesitated.
    “Say what?”
    “That Prince Henry was poisoned.”
    I froze, the doublet half on, remembering the first time I had met the countess of Carlisle. Her pursed lips, the slyness in her voice as she addressed my master: Very lucky for you that the Prince of Wales died  … Was it possible Buckingham was somehow tied to the prince’s death? If he was willing to poison the king’s son, would it not be easy to use the same method to rid himself of a widely loathed French Catholic queen? When the time for the fatal draft came, who better to administer it than the fool at the queen’s side every day?
    Evans bent down to help me with the last fastenings. “Ah, but what does such gossip matter?” he said. “Prince Henry is dead and Buckingham has risen so high, even the queen is in his shadow. You are dressed once I tie these laces. We’d best feed you and introduce you to the others before the rehearsals begin.”
    “Rehearsals?”
    “For the queen’s great passion, the masque. Playacting of sorts. She tries to shape the world into something prettier, where she can be beloved, heroic—all she dreamed of when she crossed the seas from France. Sometimes, I think she considers her masque world more real than the one she shares with the king.”
    No wonder, with her life so full of snares. I wished I could escape this world, as well. “I see,” I said, doubting Evans could guess how much I meant it.
    “Even after last night’s fete, grand as it was, you can only imagine.” Evans fumbled with the laces, drawing them tight as he was able. “The whole court is a world of make-believe, Jeffrey. The courtiers may seem like papier-mâché dragons. But the dragons breathe real fire, and even seas made of silk will drown you. Sometimes even the most astute man cannot tell what is real. If you have not heard of King Arthur, you cannot have heard of the Colosseum.”
    “What is that?” I asked.
    “The Romans had menageries like the queen’s. Tigers and lions, and gladiators, as well. Slaves who fought one another and the beasts for the amusement of their betters.”
    “Like the bull-baiting ring my father has charge of.”
    “Very much like. Archie will want you to believe the queen’s other curiosities are all tooth and claw in the court arena. Promise you will judge for yourself.”
    I slipped on shoes—the one bit of my costume that had not been shredded or ruined beneath the armor plate. “I am ready,” I said. But I doubted I would ever be ready to meet the queen’s famous freaks.
    Will Evans crossed to the door. He swung it open and held it with one huge arm. I forced myself to walk out, the maze of chambers making me wonder how I would ever find my way back. Will snipped the length of his stride and paused so often to point out paintings of Greek gods and statues of legendary heroes that it took time for me to realize he was making certain I could keep up.
    I tried to stir up resentment at this new evidence of his kindness, determined not to risk liking someone I knew I would have to betray. “There is no reason to dawdle over every lump of marble we see.”
    I saw confusion, then temper spark in Evans, reminding me of the bulls just after father chained them in Buckingham’s