The Prince of Lies (Night's Masque, #3)(91)

Eaton leaned in, as if fearing to be overheard.

“The skraylings like the theatre. When they stay at home, we all earn less.”

Mal slipped him the coin. “Buy yourself a beer or three, and drink to Naismith’s memory for me.”

Eaton nodded in appreciation and pocketed the silver.

Mal made his way back through the crowd and eventually found Ned and Gabriel talking to Will Shakespeare. He made a discreet signal and they excused themselves.

“So, gentlemen, have you heard enough yet?”

The two men murmured their affirmations, and Mal led the way back to the Sign of the Parley in silence. When they were safe behind closed doors he poured them all another beer from his own supplies and they gathered around the kitchen table.

“Well,” he said at last. “Olivia and her allies seem to have achieved their aim. Everyone believes it was the skraylings who plotted against the King and sent an assassin to kill him.”

“That’s not the half of it,” Gabriel said. “At least two men stopped me and asked when Burbage was changing the company’s name to ‘The King’s Men’.”

Ned grimaced. “And one of my old journeymen told me they’ve had so many customers this week asking for histories of Richard the Third, it’s beyond a jest. There’s even new ballads about him.”

They exchanged worried glances. With his nephews locked up in the Tower and his brother the King on his deathbed, the parallels between Prince Arthur and the hated King Richard were too close for comfort.

“You really think Arthur is preparing to take the throne if Robert dies?” Mal asked them.

“I think people think he is,” Ned replied. “And he’s doing bugger-all to convince them otherwise.”

“Some are saying he’s fled back to his stronghold at Kenilworth, to gather an army,” Gabriel added. “Arrant nonsense, of course; we would have heard if he had.”

“Olivia.” Mal stared into the distance, seeing those jade-green eyes twinkle with mischief. “This is all part of her plan.”

“After that business with Percy, people believe him capable of any wickedness.” Gabriel sighed. “I wish he’d stop playing Crookback and let the princes out of the Tower. It’s not helping his cause one bit.”

“And Kit too. Don’t forget he’s still a hostage.”

“What about the rumours that Edward is sick?” Ned asked. “You reckon there’s anything in them?”

“I pray to God there isn’t. If Edward dies too…” The unspoken words hung in the air. Then Henry could soon be king.

“So what do we do?”

“We try to unravel Olivia’s plans and undo what has been done. Gabriel, you and Will Shakespeare are close to Prince Arthur. Speak to him, urge him to intervene and move his nephews to Whitehall to be with their father. Or to Richmond, if it is true that Edward is unwell.”

“I’ll try,” the actor said. “Though he might not listen to us.”

“Make him listen.” Mal turned to Ned. “How are you doing on those papers of Palmer’s’?”

“Not well. For all he was neat and tidy, the whoreson had appalling handwriting. I’m starting to get the hang of it, though. Give me another day, and I might have your answers.”

“A day, then, but no more. The longer we take, the harder it will be to change the tide of men’s opinion.”





CHAPTER XXIV



Ned rubbed his eyes and stood to stretch his aching back. Two days he’d been working on these damned papers of Palmer’s, with precious little help from anyone. To be fair, most of it made little sense unless you were well-versed in reading legal documents, so Gabriel had been reduced to bringing Ned meals and forcing him to rest once in a while.

“Let me,” Gabriel said, setting down the dirty dinner plates he’d been gathering up. “Sit back down.”

He came round behind Ned and began kneading his shoulder muscles. Ned groaned in pleasure. After a while he recalled that he wasn’t the only one who had been hard at work today.

“Any luck at the palace?”

“None.” Gabriel pressed his thumb into a knot at the base of Ned’s neck, as if for emphasis. “We waited two hours to see Arthur and when we were finally allowed in, that venomous bitch Olivia was there, curled around his chair like the serpent in Eden. All we could do was offer our condolences and leave.”

“Unh. Mal’s not going to be happy about that.”

“You think I’m happy about it?”

On the floor below the front door opened, letting a breeze in to stir the dust on the stairs and blow a draught under the door of the upstairs parlour. Gabriel released Ned, kissed the nape of his neck – sending a delicious shiver down his spine – and went to gather up the dishes. Damn the boy, he could be such a distraction at times!

Gabriel blew a kiss from the doorway and headed downstairs. A few moments later a familiar voice swore loudly, then footsteps sounded on the landing outside, too heavy to be Gabriel’s.

“You heard Gabe’s news, then?”

“Aye.” Mal shook the raindrops off his hat. “Find anything yet?”

“Watch what you’re doing!”