Then there was a silence, a lack of movement. Quire saw a figure standing, leaning hard against the rope, then the walk tipped and he went down.
Quire ran for the steps which would take him into the garden.
When he reached the body, the victor was standing there. Sir Amadis was breathing deeply as he sheathed his sword. “I think I killed him,” he said, “before he fell. I hope so. Poor Gorius.”
“This is stupidity,” said Quire.
“You saw it? How many other witnesses?”
“Who knows?” Quire believed there was only himself. “You’ll be imprisoned for this. Exiled.”
“I wanted Alys. As did he.”
“She’ll have no part of you now.”
“I know.”
“You must return to your wife,” said Quire on impulse. He became thoughtful. “Aye-to Kent. The Perrotts will protect you.”
“What shall I tell them?”
“That you are a victim. That you quarrelled over their position-that Ransley called the Perrotts traitors and wanted them hanged. He tried to murder you. Something of the sort. They’ll receive you in Kent, as you know.”
“Aye. My wife wanted me with her. I could not. My loyalty. My lust.”
“If you’re still loyal to the Queen, then save her a scandal.” Quire was delighted. This would confirm the Perrotts in their hatred. It would ensure that their fleet sailed. “Go you now. You can be in Kent by morning. A horse is all you need.”
Sir Amadis looked doubtfully at Quire. “You are eager to be rid of me, Captain.”
“You know I’ve always sought your friendship. Now I seek to save you from retribution, that’s all.”
“Kent’s the answer, right enough.” Sir Amadis was already parting from Quire. “I’ll do my best to make them see sense and save Albion from war. If I can do that…”
“You will be more powerful than Quire,” said Quire under his breath as he waved.
He walked without haste back to the gallery, congratulating himself that he was free of two encumbrances and that his luck stayed with him.
He met Lord Shahryar in what had been a laundry. Once servants had laboured here for Hern. The sweat and the steam had gone up, the water down, running over the flagstones, going the gods knew where. The rounded ceilings were still caked with soap which had risen with the steam, and the whole place stank of lye. Quire leaned against a wooden tub and smiled at Lord Shahryar, who did not find this a fit meeting-place.
“Another few days, that’s all,” said Quire very quietly, “and the Perrotts sail.”
“Our fleet’s already on the move, but will harbour in Iberia. Until we need to come to Albion’s rescue.” Lord Shahryar’s tone was depressed. “Is it really happening, Quire?”
“Aye,” said Quire. “Really.” It seemed he shared the Saracen’s mood.
“We’ll restore the glory” Shahryar was eager. “It is in reality scarcely harmed at all. The people will respond well to handsome Hassan.”
“Aye. You’ll have an even better lie, within a year, than Montfallcon could conceive.”
Shahryar noticed Quire’s own bitterness. “You wouldn’t thwart us, would you?”
“Now? How could I? It is all too far gone.”
“What will you do?”
“Find another patron, I suppose.” He did not like the drift of the conversation.
Shahryar laughed. “So. You’ve come to love her. It’s the classic tale.”
“I’m fond of the poor creature, now that she is on the verge of defeat. I am always fond of my victims, sir.”
“No! It’s more than that. You hesitate.” Shahryar took a step or two nearer. “I wonder if you would betray us if you could. There are means. Sir Thomasin Ffynne is ready at Portsmouth with a great fleet, to forestall the Perrotts. Yet if it were turned on us…”
“Fear not, my lord. I’ve kept my word. I am renowned for it.”
“And renowned for hiding the truth by means of a well-chosen platitude.” Lord Shahryar shrugged. “Well, I must trust you. But I have often wondered why you went so readily from Montfallcon’s service and into mine.”
“That day? It was fated. I had lost my temper with Lord Montfallcon. I was piqued. If you had captured me on another day, this whole story would have been a different one. I’d have thwarted all your plans, in Montfallcon’s name. But, perhaps in haste I gave my word-and I kept it.”
“You have a regretful tone, Captain Quire.”
Quire had finished with him. Before Shahryar realised it he had begun his journey back to Gloriana’s room, for she would be waking soon.
But she was already awake when he arrived. She was pale and her mind was clogged. Sir Orlando Hawes stood by the bed. He nodded to Quire as Quire appeared.
“What’s this? Is the Queen ill?” Quire went to her. He was surprised when she waved him away, intent on the note she read and re-read.
“What is it?” Quire asked Hawes. “War declared?” He hated this ignorance. He lived for knowledge. “What’s in the note?”
Gloriana showed it to him. It was from Wallis.
“We found him. In one of those little rooms off the main seraglio,” said Sir Orlando. He was sad, but he was triumphant, too. “He used a leaf from Sir Ernest’s book, and the poet’s pen and inkhorn. He had stabbed himself with a dagger. Through the heart. Neatly, with proper calculation.”
Gloriana began to weep. “Oh, Quire!” She accused him.
The note was addressed to him.
To Captain Quire. Sir, Being in doubt as to your advice, I have decided to do away with doubt and pain for ever and take this step. You did me a service and caused me great misery thereby, but the fault lies with me. I believe I have repaid any debt I have to you, and thus may take my leave with clear conscience. I have betrayed the Queen’s faith and cannot thank you for your help in this. But I am avenged
–
betrayed by you and by your creature as I know you have betrayed so many
–
to their deaths. I remain, I suppose until life vanishes entirely, your servant. Florestan Wallis, Secretary for the High Tongue of Albion. By this deed, once more a loyal friend of the Queen.
“You are lost, Quire,” said Sir Orlando. “This poor fellow has accused you and died to prove his case.”
THE THIRTY-SECOND CHAPTER
It proves nothing,” said Quire. “He was mad with guilt and despair. I know young Phil. He’s one of Priest’s dancers and has been under Wallis’s protection. He was playing flirt to all. Wallis asked me to help him and I did what I could. Thus he considered me to be in his debt. It’s the import of the entire letter. That and his belief he shunned duty to pursue lust.”
They sat side by side upon the bed while she read the letter over. She ignored him. “Sir Orlando was right. This proves infamy of some description.”
“Only in Wallis’s eyes.”
“He recorded all the business of the Realm. He could have been the spy for Tatary and you his agent. Or the reverse. I recall everything Montfallcon hinted at….”
“There’s scarcely a lackey in the Court could not gain that information,” he said. “I’ve spoken to no Tatars, that I swear. How can you believe this?” He was aggrieved-accused, inadvertently, by a man he had not killed, of something he had not done.
“Oh, Quire, I have been betrayed by so many in my life and have always kept my faith.” She looked hopelessly at him. “I believed in Chivalry and in Albion, in my service and duty to the Realm. You teach me self-love and say that is for the sake of the Realm. I think, however, that you are trying to betray me again, in a new way. You force me to betray myself. Is there anything crueller?”
“This will not do. You are tired. And you are still drunk.”
“I am not.”
He became sullen. “You debate non-existent problems. I love you. Not four hours since, you agreed that our love was enough to sustain all else.”
“I have turned my back on Albion. I have become cynical. And so many have died.”