The Queen's Secret by Victoria Lamb

low out of habit. ‘I know you had other plans this summer, Ned. I appreciate your help and will happily give Twist a kicking for you if he can’t keep a civil tongue.’ He waited until their laughter had died away. ‘As for the rest, I don’t think it’s safe to discuss details here. Too many ears. But if I say we’re on the lookout for undesirables of the kind we just discussed, that should be enough for you to be getting along with.’
    ‘Very cryptic,’ Twist commented.
    ‘We’ll talk about it later. Outside, in the woods beyond the castle walls. Is that understood?’
    Sos nodded, his clever face serious. ‘And if people ask why we’re here?’
    ‘We are here to perform a play before the Queen.’
    Twist laughed. ‘You liar!’
    Goodluck crossed his heart. ‘It’s the truth. A short piece, to be played before the Queen some time next week, depending on the weather and Her Majesty’s mood on the day.’
    Ned looked amazed. ‘How did you arrange that?’
    ‘Do we get to practise first?’
    Goodluck grinned at Twist. ‘Every day, if necessary. And as openly as possible. I’ve chosen
The History of Mad King Canute
.’
    ‘The same piece we played in Banbury?’
    ‘The very same.’
    ‘So we are to perform for the Queen herself?’ Sos leapt up on to one of the lidded baskets and strutted along, thrusting an invisible sword back and forth. ‘With one eye in the back of our heads for Catholics?’
    ‘Hush, I’ve told you, it’s not safe here.’ Goodluck shook his head. ‘Twist, I want you on first watch. From dusk tonight until midnight.’
    ‘And what will I be watching?’
    ‘A tent.’
    ‘Our own?’ Twist looked surprised.
    ‘No, we’ll go out in a moment and I’ll show you where it is.’ Goodluck threw back the lid of one of the baskets and rummaged for a cloak. ‘You’ll need something dark to wear. Do you have a hat? Excellent. Keep it low over your face. No one’s to notice you watching, or it may be the last mistake you make. Just to be clear, I want to know who goes in and who comes out, and how long they stay.’
    ‘Should I get close enough to listen?’
    ‘No need.’ Kicking the lid shut, Goodluck threw him a stained black cloak, floor-length and excellent for disguise. He had used it himself to play a ghost in a tragedy two years before, and very successfully too. ‘Even if you could hear every word they said, it would make no difference.’
    Twist swung the black cloak about his shoulders and fumbled for the clip. ‘Why not?’
    ‘Because, my friend, you don’t speak Italian.’

Twelve

    ‘CAREFUL NOW, DON’T turn around and spoil it!’ a voice warm in her ear, hands clasped over her eyes. ‘Who am I?’
    Lettice stumbled and came to a halt on the uneven grass track that led away from the parish church.
    The other ladies moved past her, giggling, following the Queen on her white horse. Lettice knew it could not be Robert, who was pacing beside the Queen with a terrified-looking young Moorish girl a few steps behind him. Lettice stood perfectly still. She could see nothing but strips of light between the man’s fingers, as though she were blindfolded and about to be led out to the scaffold. She was reminded of a horrible game her husband liked to play with her in their bedchamber. She shivered, recalling the rough hood he used, the fear of a long drop.
    The two hands clasped over her eyes tightened, and the male voice asked again, more insistently, ‘Come, who am I?’
    With relief, she recognized the voice, but played along for a few minutes. Pip Sidney was such an amusing and promising young man, the son of Lady Mary. She had high hopes to see him married one day to her eldest daughter, Penny, whose velvety-dark eyes reminded her so strikingly of Robert.
    ‘Sir, it’s not very kind of you to tease me like this. I can’t see to walk, and will fall and hurt myself if you don’t release me. Do you always treat the Queen’s ladies so cruelly?’
    ‘If you