Gloriana

THE TWENTY-NINTH CHAPTER

We have still to hear from Lord Montfallcon.” The Queen spoke with casual amusement as she sat with sampler and needle on the couch beside Quire, who had borrowed some Greek book from Doctor Dee and was reading it. The mood of the Withdrawing Room this morning was relaxed. A few ladies attended the Queen, Tom Ffynne had been and gone, to say that Lord Montfallcon and Lord Kansas had entered the walls the previous night, taking torches and swordsmen, finding an opening in a gallery above the old Throne Chamber.

“You would think a search would not take so many hours,” agreed Quire from the other side of his book.

“You do not know those tunnels. There are many. They are intricate.”

“Aha,” said Quire vaguely, as if he did not properly listen to her. Then he said: “Should I, perhaps, go with some of your Pensioners to look for him?”

“Oh, no! Why seek the one who would accuse you? He spends longer than he needs because he won’t admit there’s no evidence there against you.”

“Nonetheless,” said Quire, closing his book, “it might be practical to take a few guards to the Throne Room, at least, and to wait for them.”

“You are too charitable.” Gloriana concentrated upon a difficult stitch. “Why should you be concerned for them?”

“Perhaps I wish my own ordeal ended?” he suggested.

“Forgive me.” She set aside her sewing. “Now I understand. Very well, you can take some Pensioners, if you desire, but do not enter the walls, I beg you.”

“You humour me.” He rose and kissed her. “Thanks.” Entering her Audience Chamber, that great, brilliant, empty room, Quire glanced around at it for a moment before calling over one of the guards. “Bring six men and come with me on the Queen’s business.”

They had been told by her to obey him. The guard ran off to gather his fellows.

Quire strained his luck, he knew, by allowing himself this luxury, but he felt that if Montfallcon did recover some little piece of evidence, it would be best if the Queen were not present when it was shown to him.

Soon Quire was surrounded by Hern’s gloomy vault, staring up into the pointed ceilings and recalling, with a certain pleasure, the deeds he had performed here. It was from here that he had sent Alys and Phil about their initial seductions; where Cornfield, Ransley and Wallis had come to pursue their passions. He had overheard conversations. He had kidnapped little Patch. And now he returned commanding the Queen’s Own Guard, looking for the gallery he had used more than once himself, which Tallow had shown him: the entrance to the walls. Quire regretted Tallow’s death, though it had been convenient, and, rather more, he regretted the man’s escape, his crawling away for aid.

He smiled to himself, wondering how Montfallcon fared against the vagabond army; the rabble Quire had turned from individual scavengers into a pack which ruled the tunnels, terrorising all other occupants. It had terrified Tallow. It had run him down and killed him because he would not join it. Quire sighed. That had been the simplest part of his plan. He was nostalgic for those easy early days.

At length there came a noise from above, a torch’s flickering, and he was instinctively drawn into shadow to watch as Montfallcon, cursing, burst through. Then came two of the city guards. Montfallcon leant against the gallery rail, not seeing anyone below. Both guards were slightly wounded. There had been a confrontation and a chase.

“Where’s Kansas, my lord?” asked Quire softly from where he stood, knowing his voice would grow in the vastness of the hall.

Montfallcon turned, still leaning, and looked down at him. “Villain! Kansas is dead and half a dozen soldiers with him. There’s a mob in there. Your mob, eh?”

“You continue to credit me with far too much power,” said Quire. “What will you do? Send in a rival mob?”

“Possibly.” Supported by the guards, Montfallcon moved along the gallery and began to descend unseen stairs, until he stood staring with cold hatred upon his cat-like enemy. “You taught them to think, eh, Quire? Those rats.”

“Your reasoning’s too subtle for me to follow. Will the Queen allow more activities in the wall? She would rather-”

“Do not speak so familiarly for the Queen, rogue! Not to me! You have corrupted her. That horrible seraglio-”

“It was always there, my lord. I did not invent it. Why, she’s hardly used it since I’ve known her.”

“It is the symbol of her private indulgence, of what she has become. It is that part of Hern she allows to flourish-”

“It is possibly where she escapes from Hern-”

“-and you! Oh, you, Quire, are Hern personified. I know his logic. I had full experience of it, eh? And now we hear it made more subtle in his daughter’s soft mouth. You are Evil’s tool, Quire!”

“I assure you, my lord, I’ve no symbolic value-I work for myself alone.”

Montfallcon spat at him. “You’ll perish! I’ll see to it. All the corruption shall perish! Kansas wished to marry the Queen. Did you know that? He was courting her and would have won her, but you appeared! I wanted a Perrott for a consort, but, by Xiombarg, I’d have settled for him. And now he’s dead. Killed by you!”

“By me?” Quire showed comical astonishment. “It was the two of you went willingly into the walls, ignoring the Queen’s desire, all common sense, all warnings. How can I have killed him?”

Then Quire frowned as he realised that the face of the guard on Montfallcon’s right was familiar. He hesitated. He recalled the face; it was the face of the survivor who had witnessed Quire’s killing of Ibram the Saracen last New Year’s Eve. The man was too astonished, too shocked to speak, for he was still reeling from the encounter in the walls, but it was plain that he also recognised Quire.

Quire turned away. “I’ll report this to the Queen, shall I? You’ll be wanting to send another expedition in, will you, my lord? And another?”

“We’ll find a means of controlling them,” Montfallcon promised, “and of bringing you to justice, Captain Quire.”

Quire knew that the guard would soon be speaking to Montfallcon and that justice might be closer than the grey lord realised. He instructed a palace Pensioner to take the bad news to the Queen. “Tell her Kansas is killed in a fight there. Tell her it would be best if the walls were sealed, in case this rabble of Lord Montfallcon’s breaks through.”

Quire himself remained where he was, with his back to Montfallcon and the others. He bit a knuckle.

Behind him, Montfallcon lifted his sword, then lowered it again. He had sworn to have no more public bloodshed, and he knew that if he killed Quire outright the Queen would hang him for certain. He was prepared to give his own life for Albion, but could not die until he was sure that the Realm’s course was assured.

Without a further word to them, Quire was rapidly on his way, sending his guards back to their quarters, as he took the stairs that would lead him, eventually, to Doctor Dee’s apartments. He must demand a further favour of the doctor. He must demand poison. And then Alys Finch must lure the guard and make him drink the poison. It could be easily done, that part, Quire was sure, for Alys had murdered Sir Christopher with no trouble at all. Dee was the only problem, but there was one threat to Dee which would work, as it had worked before, though Quire regretted it must now be openly made. Previously he had arranged his arguments so well that it had always seemed he must disappoint the magus through no fault of his own. Possibly it could still be done, but he had little time for his usual clever rhetoric. He must get the poison and give it to Alys, returning to the Queen before he was missed. There was no way in which he could permit that particular witness to live: he was able to identify Quire as a murderer, and now that Sir Christopher was dead, there would be nothing Montfallcon need consider dangerous. Quire could be accused, simply, and tried, simply, for a simple crime. Anything Quire might say would be interpreted as an attempt of his to escape sentence.

Quire realised that there were extra subtleties to his position, and that it was possible Montfallcon would not use the guard against him, but he was too close to fulfillment to take the risk. And the death of an ordinary guard would not be remarked. The body could, indeed, be hidden forever, if necessary.

He reached Doctor Dee’s door and knocked upon it. There came cautious sounds from within. A grille was moved. Dee’s somewhat bloodshot eyes looked out and became less wary as he recognised his benefactor.

“Come in, sir! I was just preparing her. I fear, however, that I must increase the strength of the philtre. She becomes a little difficult to control. Look!” He chuckled, pulling down his shift. “She has scratched my neck. Perhaps you can help me, Captain Quire, as you have helped me before?”

Quire showed concern. “Of course, Doctor.”

“She is the most marvellous creation. I have never known a simulacrum so fine. But I have told you this many times. Our own science has no means to produce such a perfect, near-human creature. Well, you are aware how I failed. How Master Tolcharde failed. You understand that I do not complain to you of any minor malfunction, but…”

“I understand. She becomes fierce.”

Doctor Dee nodded and sighed. “She is not tame, sir. No longer. And she is very strong.”

“I’ll do what I can. In the meantime, use caution.”

“Oh, she is so lovely. Irresistible. If she were to kill me, sir, I should die very happily.”

“I came on another matter, Doctor Dee. I need help. There is trouble in the walls. A madman leads a pack of ruffians. The madman must be killed.”

“Killed? Zeus! Who is he? Are we in danger?”

“There’s a chance of defeating him. But I need more of that poison you loaned me once before. The kind that is so hard to detect.”

Dee nodded. “Aye. I have some still. But why should it be necessary to slay a madman with poison of that sort? Any simple poison would do, if he must be poisoned. I should have thought it best if he were put to the sword, Captain Quire. You can use your sword, sir, I am sure.”

“I must have the poison swiftly.”

Dee was reluctant, alarmed by Quire’s manner. “I think…” Then he checked himself. He became afraid. “You will help me with her?”

“As soon as my business is completed.”

“You swear it, Captain?” He was pathetic.

“I have been good to you, Doctor, and asked few favours.”

“You are a very clever philosopher, sir, that I do know.” Doubtfully: “So I suppose your business cannot be evil.” Thus Dee convinced himself as he moved towards his cabinet. He handed Quire a phial. “You’ll return soon?”

“As I promised. And remember-be cautious, Doctor.” Quire skipped from the room, his spirits beginning to rise. Then he was off to find his stalking bitch, his little Alys Finch.