be seen to here, including summoning the local authorities.”
“But it looks like a dreadful accident,” Jamie observed, bending slightly closer to study the corpse of his former teacher. “And since this is on crown property, and you, Your Majesty, are the crown …”
“I do not need your advice on this, Jamie. Master Sutton was my guest and is owed all the legal rights of justice—which he so ably defended and brilliantly taught,” the queen managed before her own voice broke.
“I’ll not leave him,” Bettina said, weakly now, but she made no more protest when Jamie took her arm and coaxed her away. Elizabeth could hear him talking calmly, quietly to the poor woman until his voice faded.
“Ned,” the queen said, “the yeomen guard are to surround the sides and rear of the maze until I command otherwise. And put back the rope across the front facing the palace. Call off the search outside, saying we have found Master Sutton, dead in what appears to be an accidental fall here in the maze.”
“Accidental?” Ned challenged, in a whisper evidently so Kat wouldn’t hear. “Jamie may have said so, but he didn’t know— about the other night. I supposed this could be an accident, but the coincidence of the same setting—”
“Do as I say, and let me do the thinking right now. Then fetch Cecil to meet me here. Hurry up, man. No, leave your torch—give it to Meg.” Scolded to silence, Ned turned and hurried away.
“Jenks,” the queen rushed on, “tell your master, Robert Dudley, his queen commands him to ride for the parish bailiff and have him summon the coroner. And on your way, escort Kat to Anne Carey for companionship until I return. Take your torch, for this one will serve Meg and me. Before the authorities arrive, we will throw what light we can upon this sad demise of this teacher and preserver of queen’s justice.”
Mildred listened carefully to what a man—she was certain it was the queen’s player who had read the Bible parable at the masque last night—was telling her husband in the hall outside the closed door: Templar Sutton had been found dead in the maze, and Cecil was to come to join Her Majesty there posthaste. The local officials were being summoned.
She stepped away from the door as Will darted back in to seize his cloak and cap. “Templar Sutton’s died suddenly, and the queen has need of me,” he said only. Grief contorted his expression; tears glimmered in his eyes. “Don’t wait up for me,” he added and was gone with a bang of the door before she could say a thing.
“Will ye be preparing for bed then, milady?” her girl Johanna asked, poking her head around the bedchamber door. It was obvious that the girl listened far too often at keyholes. Mildred assumed it was Will who had the maid watching her because she couldn’t fathom who else would give a fig what she did around here.
“Just turn down the covers for me and take your ease,” Mildred told her. “I’m going to read here for a while.”
But the moment Johanna closed the inner door, Mildred was out the one into the hallway. She hurried down it, certain of where to turn, where to find a door on the south side of the sprawling palace which overlooked the gardens and maze on the lawns above the Thames.
She saw much commotion ahead, torches, people. Finally, she made out the solitary dark form of her husband heading at a fast pace toward the maze. Stretching her strides, she nearly managed to keep the same distance from him across the dewy lawn. She saw three figures emerge from the black hulk of the maze: the silhouette of the person in the middle was unmistakably that of the new widow, Bettina.
Mildred stopped walking, feeling drowned by the darkness both outside and inside herself as Will, despite his summons from Her Majesty, stopped, evidently to comfort Bettina. He leaned close to speak to her, held her hand, their outlines merging in distant torchlight. Then she saw him hurry on,
“But it looks like a dreadful accident,” Jamie observed, bending slightly closer to study the corpse of his former teacher. “And since this is on crown property, and you, Your Majesty, are the crown …”
“I do not need your advice on this, Jamie. Master Sutton was my guest and is owed all the legal rights of justice—which he so ably defended and brilliantly taught,” the queen managed before her own voice broke.
“I’ll not leave him,” Bettina said, weakly now, but she made no more protest when Jamie took her arm and coaxed her away. Elizabeth could hear him talking calmly, quietly to the poor woman until his voice faded.
“Ned,” the queen said, “the yeomen guard are to surround the sides and rear of the maze until I command otherwise. And put back the rope across the front facing the palace. Call off the search outside, saying we have found Master Sutton, dead in what appears to be an accidental fall here in the maze.”
“Accidental?” Ned challenged, in a whisper evidently so Kat wouldn’t hear. “Jamie may have said so, but he didn’t know— about the other night. I supposed this could be an accident, but the coincidence of the same setting—”
“Do as I say, and let me do the thinking right now. Then fetch Cecil to meet me here. Hurry up, man. No, leave your torch—give it to Meg.” Scolded to silence, Ned turned and hurried away.
“Jenks,” the queen rushed on, “tell your master, Robert Dudley, his queen commands him to ride for the parish bailiff and have him summon the coroner. And on your way, escort Kat to Anne Carey for companionship until I return. Take your torch, for this one will serve Meg and me. Before the authorities arrive, we will throw what light we can upon this sad demise of this teacher and preserver of queen’s justice.”
Mildred listened carefully to what a man—she was certain it was the queen’s player who had read the Bible parable at the masque last night—was telling her husband in the hall outside the closed door: Templar Sutton had been found dead in the maze, and Cecil was to come to join Her Majesty there posthaste. The local officials were being summoned.
She stepped away from the door as Will darted back in to seize his cloak and cap. “Templar Sutton’s died suddenly, and the queen has need of me,” he said only. Grief contorted his expression; tears glimmered in his eyes. “Don’t wait up for me,” he added and was gone with a bang of the door before she could say a thing.
“Will ye be preparing for bed then, milady?” her girl Johanna asked, poking her head around the bedchamber door. It was obvious that the girl listened far too often at keyholes. Mildred assumed it was Will who had the maid watching her because she couldn’t fathom who else would give a fig what she did around here.
“Just turn down the covers for me and take your ease,” Mildred told her. “I’m going to read here for a while.”
But the moment Johanna closed the inner door, Mildred was out the one into the hallway. She hurried down it, certain of where to turn, where to find a door on the south side of the sprawling palace which overlooked the gardens and maze on the lawns above the Thames.
She saw much commotion ahead, torches, people. Finally, she made out the solitary dark form of her husband heading at a fast pace toward the maze. Stretching her strides, she nearly managed to keep the same distance from him across the dewy lawn. She saw three figures emerge from the black hulk of the maze: the silhouette of the person in the middle was unmistakably that of the new widow, Bettina.
Mildred stopped walking, feeling drowned by the darkness both outside and inside herself as Will, despite his summons from Her Majesty, stopped, evidently to comfort Bettina. He leaned close to speak to her, held her hand, their outlines merging in distant torchlight. Then she saw him hurry on,
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