She moved a fan as if to wave away the image he conjured. “Thank you, Doctor Dee.”
“In my opinion, madam, Lord Montfallcon has become plot-hungry He craves traitors the way a dog craves rats; he lives only to hunt them.”
“My Lord Montfallcon protects the Realm. He performs his duty, Doctor Dee, as he sees it.” The Queen made only a languid defence.
John Dee clawed his snowy beard and snorted. “The wheels of Montfallcon’s mind spin like those of a clock without a pendulum.”
“Lord Ingleborough was his oldest friend. He grieves. And, grieving, he seeks a villain to personify the fate which befalls us all.” The Queen became more sympathetic. “His attention therefore comes upon the most suspicious, in his eyes-the stranger to the Court. The newcomer. Captain Quire.”
“He wished to find Ingleborough poisoned, and now he is dismayed.” Dee looked fondly at Quire. “He is jealous of you, Captain, and would believe you guilty of every crime in the land.”
Quire shrugged and moved his mouth in a wistful smile. “He thinks he knows me. He told me so.”
“He could not,” said Dee gravely, “know you, sir, for it is only a few months since you came to our sphere, in Master Tolcharde’s chariot.”
Quire stretched himself along the couch. “So you insist, Doctor Dee.” For Dee, in this matter, he feigned amnesia. Yet it suited him, as it suited the Queen, that he should possess no past in Albion.
The rose-carved doors of the Withdrawing Room were opened and a footman stood there. “Your Majesty. Sir Thomasin Ffynne awaits your pleasure.”
“He is expected.” Gloriana closed her fan and extended her hand as Tom Ffynne hobbled in to kiss it. A grunt at Dee, a smile at Quire, and he lowered himself, in answer to the Queen’s sign, to a white silk chair. “Good morrow, Your Majesty. Gentlemen, Perion Montfallcon’s finished his gruesome work, then?”
“I have just come from there.” Doctor Dee shared a look. “Aye.”
“And no poison?”
“None.”
Tom Ffynne was satisfied. “His little page ran off, you know. Patch? Ran off, doubtless, when he heard the news, or saw his master dead. He can’t be found.”
“He’ll reappear in time, I’m sure,” said Captain Quire.
“It would be grief. Patch was very fond of Lisuarte. But the poor fellow was in too much pain. That body was best dead. Though he lives in here.” Ffynne tapped his forehead. “The finest of all of us. The noblest of Hern’s old men. What’s to become of his estates, there being no direct heir?”
“A nephew in the Dale Country,” Gloriana told him, “who has for many years acted as his steward.”
“A true nephew or…?”
“There are papers sufficient to prove blood ties.” Queen Gloriana smiled. “In such matters, so long as there are no contesters, birth can be adjusted according to certain diplomatic requirements. His nephew is the new lord.”
“And where’s Perion now?” Tom Ffynne asked Doctor Dee.
Meanwhile Gloriana and Captain Quire exchanged glances, exclusive and knowing, not hearing what he said.
“Returned, I suppose, to his offices.” Dee shifted his gold cap upon his white head. “I am not in Montfallcon’s confidence, Sir Thomasin.”
“Aye. He’s a difficult old fellow now. I remember when he was younger, and his family alive, he was somewhat softer in his emotions. But gradually, in the cause of Albion, his spirit has grown as inflexible as poor Lisuarte’s limbs-and, I’d suspect, gives him as much pain. You must not think too badly of him, Doctor Dee.”
“I do not, Sir Thomasin. It is Lord Montfallcon thinks ill of me. He sees me as a sorcerer who puts a glamour on the Queen.”
“There, there,” Sir Tom smiled. “You are not the adventurer you once were, in his eyes. There are greater threats now. Captain Quire, for instance.” The shrewd eyes looked across at Quire.
Quire laughed carelessly. “What does he say of me, Sir Thomasin?”
“Oh, many things. You are the cause of all strife in Albion.”
“So I have been learning. Is he exact?”
Sir Thomasin grinned. He knew that Quire must be aware of Montfallcon’s confidence in him. He knew that Quire dared him to reveal what even Montfallcon dared not reveal to the Queen. He shook his head and was admiring. “He says he marks you for a murderer, a spy, an abductor, a rapist, a thief. The list is almost endless.”
The Queen laughed. “How can he have so much intelligence of you, Quire? Are you a lover who has rejected him? Now, now-we must dismiss this topic. My Lord Montfallcon is the loyalest noble in the Realm and serves us well. I’ll not have him mocked.”
“I do not think we mock him, madam,” said Sir Thomasin. “He is my friend. We discuss him because we fear for his sanity. He should be sent to one of his houses-somewhere in the country-to rest.”
“He would deem himself exiled.”
“I know. You must concede to him as much as is tolerable to you, Your Majesty.” Tom Ffynne was serious. “I would not have him follow Lisuarte at once.”
“There’s little danger of that, surely?” Captain Quire spoke diffidently as one not well informed of matters on which others discourse.
“He weakens himself with these wild-goose chases.” Ffynne scratched at his weather-stained forehead. “And summer’s ever the season for strange fancies. The sun draws forth hidden humours as it draws forth sweat.”
“You think the autumn will find him cooler?” the Queen asked.
“If he’s handled kindly.”
“I have conceded to him a great deal in my life, Sir Tom.”
“Indeed, madam. In turn, he’s devoted his entire soul to your well-being.”
“For the sake of the Realm.”
“And from affection, Your Majesty.”
“Yet he calls any other who befriends me ’traitor.’ The Countess of Scaith. Doctor Dee. Captain Quire. He is jealous of them all. Lady Mary Perrott was not held by him in any high esteem. Should I fear for the lives of every person I love, Sir Tom?”
Ffynne was horrified. “You do not think, madam, that he would take such guilt upon himself. To play executioner…”
“He seems content to place the guilt on me,” murmured Gloriana. “Guilt inherited is one thing. I have borne it through my childhood, through my reign. I am resentful of new guilts, sir. Your friend, our Chancellor, accuses me by accusing my friends. Is this the loyalty you would have me show to him?”
“He has many burdens, madam, he cannot share. He lightens your load in a number of ways.”
“What? Tell me how.”
Tom Ffynne became confused. “I do not know, Your Majesty. I refer to the business of statecraft in general.”
“He has statecraft at the root of his nature. He enjoys his schemes.”
The Admiral could not deny this. One glance at Quire, nearly beseeching him to speak, and Quire was rising, to walk around the couch and peer through the window into the floral extravagance, the thousand eyes of the peacocks’ rustling displays, the green blandness of lawns on which heavy iguanas lazed. Quire pretended the stranger’s embarrassment. Tom Ffynne knew a flash of resentment, then was reconciled: Why should Quire involve himself? He was already much victimised by Montfallcon, who, in Ffynne’s opinion, was angry at the loss of a servant now threatening to become his effective master.
Doctor Dee was conscious that his own remark might be taken for hypocrisy, but he made it, for practicality’s sake. “A sedative. If Lord Montfallcon were to sleep…I have a philtre I can prepare.”
“Lord Montfallcon accept a draught from your hands, my innocent sage?” Queen Gloriana laughed and showed him a mild eye. “Oh, I think not!”