The Tudor Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF Page B

what kind of mischief you’re getting yourself into. Do I make myself clear?”
    “Yes, master,” he said indignantly.
    Kate tucked my cloak about me. “Be safe,” she said. Her voice cracked.
    “Kate.” I reached out.
    She took a step back. “No. No good-byes.”
    I gazed into her eyes. “I promise I’ll send word as soon as I can.”
    “Don’t.” With that one word, she conveyed everything we dared not say aloud, the mere fact that by setting quill to paper I might betray myself. “Just come home,” she said, and she pushed past Mistress Ashley, going under the archway back into the manor.
    I started to go after her. Mistress Ashley stopped me. “Let her be. I’ll look after her. You go now, before she changes her mind and orders her own horse saddled.”
    I turned back to Cinnabar. My horse snorted, eager to be off. Jumping onto a mounting block, Peregrine scrambled onto his dappled gelding.
    We rode to the road. I glanced over my shoulder to see Mistress Ashley framed by the redbrick house, the tenacious ivy turning brown where it curled about the windows. She raised her hand in farewell. I kept looking back as she and Hatfield faded from view.
    Though I did not see Kate, I knew she was at one of those windows, watching me.
    * * *
    The day was crisp, the sun an opaque halo in the bone white sky. Once we cleared the manor grounds, we took to a canter, the horses impatient to stretch their limbs. I didn’t want to fill the silence with idle talk. Sensing my mood, Peregrine kept quiet, at least until we stopped to eat our midday meal. As I sliced the cheese, venison, and bread, he finally let loose the one question I was sure he’d been burning to ask since Cecil’s visit. As usual he’d been listening in on every conversation he could, ferreting out the purpose for our trip.
    “Is she in danger?” he asked, munching down his bread. He had an insatiable appetite but never seemed to gain weight. Whenever I saw him eat like this, I wondered how much hunger he had experienced in his short life.
    “Chew your food. And yes, she might be. Or she might not be in any danger at all. I don’t know yet. That is why I am going to court, to find out.”
    He looked doubtful. “But I heard Kate and Mistress Ashley talking. Kate said the imperial ambassador was trying to have the princess arrested for treason.”
    “Did you really? Those big ears of yours are going to get you into more trouble one day than you’re worth. Have you already forgotten what I told you?”
    He sighed. “No second-guessing you.”
    “That’s right. I’m serious, Peregrine. This is not a game.”
    “Who said it was?” He sounded insulted. “But if she is in danger, you might as well tell me now. You wouldn’t want me to wander about not knowing.”
    “You’re not to wander at all. You’re to do as I tell you or I swear, I’ll send you back to Hatfield hog-tied, if need be.”
    “Yes, master.” He snatched the last slice of venison and crammed it into his mouth. “Just answer me one thing,” he said, chewing.
    “What?”
    “Tell me you’re not planning on falling into the river again. Because sometimes the Thames freezes in the winter and it would be hard to rescue you-” He laughed, ducking from the hand I swiped at his head. He had a wonderful laugh, like a young boy’s should be. For the first time since we left Hatfield I found myself smiling.
    “You’re impossible,” I said. “Let’s go. I want to reach the city before dark.”
    We resumed our journey. We passed few travelers on the road, an occasional farmer and band of merchants with carts of goods, trudging with heads down and wary greeting. Soon, however, the snow-flecked countryside of Hertfordshire began to give way to clusters of hamlets and lesser townships that indicated our proximity to London. The thoroughfare became more crowded; people were hustling to get through the city gates before curfew. As we passed a small stone church where bells tolled,