The Tudor Conspiracy

“Well?” he said eagerly. “Did you see her? What did she say?”

“Never mind that.” I eyed him. “Did you find out anything?”

He nodded, his voice lowering to a whisper. “That horse Toby keeps ready, Courtenay uses it to visit a brothel called the Hawk’s Nest, across the river in Southwark near Bankside Street. He’s smitten with a bawd there, and he’s going again tonight. He paid Toby this morning.”

I nodded grimly, reaching for Ci

Peregrine’s expression crumpled. “What? Are you not pleased?”

I began to saddle Ci

He scowled. “I don’t see why. I got the information you needed and-”

I wheeled about and pinched his ear, eliciting a stifled protest. I said softly, “Because I said so.” I released him. He rubbed his ear. “No more working on your own. Understood?”

“Yes, master,” he muttered.

I proceeded to ready Ci

I led Ci

Peregrine emerged from the stables. I swung him into the saddle and mounted. “Let’s go find this Hawk’s Nest,” I said.

* * *

With Peregrine’s arms clasped about my waist, I turned Ci

Cecil had been wrong. Flair or not, being an intelligencer would never be my choice.

Taking Grace Church Street, we plunged into the city clustered by the Thames. The calcified spine of London Bridge reared into view, perched on its twenty vast stone piers. I’d never been on the bridge before and marveled that it could hold so much on its back. Below us, the glazed river was devoid of its habitual water traffic, the ice already so dense in the shallows that children were skating across it, using pieces of bone for their blades. I saw a ski

At the northern gatehouse, crowds lined up to pay their toll and visit the hundreds of shops perched on either side of the bridge’s span like teetering birds, the air clogged with the raucous shouts of peddlers and others going about their business. I maneuvered Ci

I gazed up in awe as we passed under a gilded palatial structure that clambered several stories into the sky, its jutting balconies festooned with ba

“Some people live and die without ever leaving the bridge,” Peregrine said in my ear. “It’s considered the safest place in the city after the palace, because the gates close at curfew and it has everything the people need, except for ale and beer. No cellars for it.”

“Curfew?” I frowned. “That’s inconvenient. How will I get across the bridge tonight? I’m not a nobleman who can flash his credentials whenever he needs to bypass something.”

“You could always walk. The river should be frozen through by nightfall, and…” His voice faded as I glanced over my shoulder at him in disbelief.

“That’s right,” he muttered. “I forgot you’re like a cat when it comes to water. But it would be safe, not to mention faster. You’ll see. It’s going to take an hour just to get across.”

I didn’t believe him at first, but as we progressed, I began to see that while there might not be official taverns, plenty of makeshift stalls offered beverages and food, inviting passersby to stop and peruse, sending those behind them into paroxysms of angry curses. Navigating the congested route between the edifices was like moving through a maze, for while the narrow central road was divided into designated lanes-one north and one south-nobody paid the directions any mind, sauntering to and fro whenever a shop display caught their fancy, ducking around and sometimes outright defying the passage of oncoming carts and wagons and horse riders with oblivious determination.

To Peregrine’s glee, I kept ducking my head to avoid the painted signs in the shape of goods that hung overhead, proclaiming that shop’s particular trade. The light grew dim. The top levels of many of the bridge’s structures co

By the time we passed over the massive drawbridge at the southern end, I was breathless and Ci

I had started turning Ci

“Ssh.” I reached for my sword. A large, dark-clad figure was blending with the people emerging under the gatehouse; I was certain it was none other than Courtenay’s man. As if he felt my stare, he went still. His cowl cast a deep shadow over his face, but I felt him meet my eyes before he wheeled about to disappear into the throngs going north onto the bridge.

I let out my breath. “We’re being followed. No. Don’t look.”

“We are?” Peregrine’s voice vibrated with excitement. “Is he still…?”

“No, he saw me watching and turned around. But he must know what we’re doing; he serves Courtenay. How far do you think it is to the brothel?”

“I don’t know. It must be in the district.” He paused. “Why didn’t he come after us?”

“Perhaps he thinks it would be hard to kill anyone here, with so many witnesses,” I said, though in fact the bridge offered a perfect spot for murder, if you were skilled enough. In all that bustle and commotion, a well-aimed knife could slice a victim open from sternum to gut and the body wouldn’t be found until someone stumbled over it.

Anger surged at my own ineptness. I should have known Courtenay would have me tracked; he might have been lurking unseen near the stable block, seen Elizabeth emerge, and guessed we had met. That didn’t trouble me for now; the princess now knew to keep her distance from Courtenay. My own safety was another matter altogether.

“Let’s see how eager he is,” I said. “We’ll wet our throats in that tavern and wait.”

Tethering Ci