The Prince of Lies (Night's Masque, #3)(86)

The ostler cupped a hand to his mouth. “Davy! Who had the hire of Rosie last?”

A groom poked his head round the stall. “Master Nathaniel, same as always.”

“Nathaniel?”

“A notary, Nathaniel Palmer. He has an account with us, seeing as he travels a lot with his work.”

“And where can I find this Nathaniel Palmer?”

The ostler gave him directions to a house just off Bishopsgate Within. Mal thanked the man, and gave him a half-crown for his trouble.

“Feed the mare well, and let her rest,” he told them. “She has been cruelly used, and is in no way to blame for the ill she has helped cause.”

“Of course, sir. God save the King!”

“I hope he does,” Mal replied softly as he left. Otherwise we will have a child on the throne; a child with a monstrous brother who is bent on taking it – and the kingdom – for himself.



When the soldiers came to take Kit back to the other boys, he wasn’t sure whether to be happy or afraid. De Vere would probably not stop taunting him and calling him a girl, and in the Tower there was nowhere to hide from him. On the other hand it had been very boring cooped up with the princesses, who just cried all the time or worse, fussed over him like he was a baby. He stomped down the stairs after the soldiers, wishing his father or Uncle Sandy would come and take him away. At that thought he looked around eagerly. Perhaps the soldiers had lied and he was being taken to his father after all… but then they turned left instead of right and went through the gateway to the inner ward.

As he feared they led him up the stairs into the Bloody Tower, to the portcullis room where he and Robert Sidney shared a bed, and left him there. When they had arrived here two days ago, he and Sidney had pretended they were soldiers in a besieged castle, sent to man the defences and drop boiling water and molten lead on their enemies’ heads. A portcullis wasn’t much use, though, if you were trying to get out rather than stop someone getting in. He leaned over the mechanism, wondering if it were possible to squeeze through the gaps.

Someone pushed him and he toppled forwards, flailing for the nearest beam to steady himself. He turned, panting, to see Sidney smirking at him.

“Sidney, don’t be an ass!”

“Made you squeal.”

“Did not.”

“I heard you. Bet you wet yourself too.”

“Did not.”

“Pueri!”

Both boys snapped to attention.

“Magister.”

“Is this any proper way for gentlemen to behave?” Master Weston glared at them both. “Cavorting like jugglers when your lord King lies in agonies?”

“Non est, magister.”

“Do not imagine that this unfortunate turn of events will prevent you from having lessons. The discipline of learning will take your minds off melancholy thoughts.”

Sidney groaned and trudged through into their chamber. Kit made to follow him, but Master Weston blocked his path with his cane.

“Not you, Catlyn. The prince wishes to speak with you.”

Kit bowed and made his way up the spiral stair to Prince Henry’s chambers. The upper floor of the tower was divided by a wood-and-plaster wall into an L-shaped parlour and a separate bedchamber. Prince Henry sat in a chair by the window, watching him intently. There was no sign of de Vere, and Kit hoped his old enemy had gone back to the adjoining Wakefield Tower, where Prince Edward had his lodgings.

“Your Highness.”

“How did you like my sisters?”

Kit blinked at the prince. “Um, they were very kind to me.”

“Of course they were. And my beloved mother?”

“I didn’t see her much. She looked sad and worried.”

Henry stood up. “You don’t like me, do you, Catlyn?”

Kit stared at the ground. “I…” He had never been very good at lying.

“It’s all right, you can tell the truth.” He stepped closer to Kit. “But we could be friends, if you wanted. Good friends.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My father may die of his wounds, and then Edward will be king and I will be heir. Unless something happens to him before he has a son.”

“I hope not–” Kit realised this was the wrong thing to say. “I-I-I mean that I hope your father doesn’t die.”

“No. Of course not. But whether he dies now or later, my friends will be important men. Even more important than they are now. I need friends who are loyal to me and no one else. Could you do that, Catlyn?”

Kit swallowed. “I can try, Your Highness.”

“Then you will obey me, before your father or anyone else?”

“Anyone? Even the King?”

“Well, no.” Henry looked annoyed. “That would be treason. And if you breathed a word that I said otherwise, I’d have to have you executed.”

“What?” Kit backed away further, until he was up against the door. The nail heads pressed into his back.

The prince laughed. “You should see your face, Catlyn. Of course I’m not going to have you executed. Not yet, at any rate.”

Kit did not feel reassured.

“You’re pretty good at Latin, aren’t you?” Henry said. “And you draw well, and I dare say you’re itching to practise with that new sword.”