Hidden Fire (The FIRE series Book 1) Read online

  “And a couple of hours sleep? It's hard work pretending to be layabouts.”

  “If you must. I'm going for a ride; I need some exercise.” Lizzy stood, pushing herself away from the table.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Don't worry uncle, nobody's tried to abduct me for almost a month.” She kissed his forehead, “I'll stay on the estate though.”

  Chapter 8

  Colvile wasn't happy to be arrested in front of the crowd listening to his sermon. The Guards loudly announced his crime: failing to provide material evidence in a treason case. He turned red while the crowd had looked on in amusement. A few had suggested the Guards add 'poor sermonising' and 'wasting an hour of our lives' to his arrest warrant.

  Half an hour after his arrest, Curate Colvile found himself in the cells of the Information Office, beneath the former City Palace, which had been converted for government use. Compared to the cells in the Guard Houses, and especially those in the King's Ford Gaol, these cells were positively luxurious. The usual prisoners at the I.O. were high ranking – or they were until their trial, at which point they went to Gaol minus their titles, fortunes, and, on occasion, not long after, their heads – so the walls were clean and the bedding fairly fresh. The bucket had a lid on it, and if they had the funds then a candle and decent food was available to purchase.

  “What are you doing? Don't you know who I am? The Queen must be informed, at once!” Colvile rattled at his cell door, the iron bars clanking against his manacles.

  “Shut up mate, we're not allowed to cut out your tongue until after you've given your statement.” The Sergeant who'd brought him in ambled down from his desk, where he was filling in the prisoner's details in the book.

  “What statement? What is this about?”

  “I'll read your arrest warrant out to you again if you'd like?” The Sergeant pulled the parchment from his breast pocket and pointed it at the curate.

  “No thank you. I think I can manage to read it on my own.” The Curate snatched through the bars to grab his arrest warrant. The sergeant danced backwards, keeping the warrant just out of reach as the Curate squashed himself against the bars, failing to force his body out enough to grab the warrant.

  “Now be sensible, Mr Colvile, you'll hurt yourself doing that.”

  “It's Your Reverance, sergeant.”

  “Not 'ere it ain't. If you're 'ere it's 'cos you committed treason. No titles for traitors.”

  “I am not a traitor.”

  “Yeah, you are. Else you wouldn't be here would you? Now, shut it, the Lord Commander will be along just as soon as he has time to speak to you.”

  Colvile kicked at the bed to check for vermin before taking a seat.

  It puzzled him; Lord Summerton was still in the Southern Hills, so which of the Lord's Commander was he waiting for? He tapped his feet on the floor, counting the names of possible Lord Commanders, searching his memory but nothing occurred to him. He knew why he had been arrested, of course; ever since the youngest Mortlake brat had spilled his guts he'd been expecting to be called into answer questions. He rehearsed the story the High Curate had given told him to use should he be arrested. Bits kept flitting away from his mind until he became agitated. The curate stood and paced the room, mumbling quietly to himself, though he did not realise it at first. The story got better and better every time he told it to himself. If only he could remember it when the tine came.

  Eventually, the clatter of hooves from above caught his attention. He looked up through the glass of the tiny window that allowed sunlight to filter through. The lighted fluttered in and out as people passed above. The shadows suggested it was late in the afternoon. He'd been pacing for hours. Colvile returned to his bed to rest. If the courtyard was busy, he surmised, then the Lord Commander must have arrived, or help. He hoped it was help.

  Colvile woke with a start; the cell door swung open, but he couldn't see anyone other than the sergeant who had locked him in. Colvile swung his legs off the bed and stood. The muscles and bones in his back cracked as he stretched.

  “I hated to wake you, Mr Colvile, you were sleeping like a baby, but you are wanted in the Office.”

  “I see, by whom?”

  “Never you mind, get a move on though 'cos she won't wait.”

  “The Queen!” Colvile leapt to his feet, grinning. Of course her majesty wouldn't leave him in this mess, after all he had done for her. Admittedly, the plan hadn't worked out the way they'd wanted, but he could hardly be blamed for that.

  “Now, now, yer rev'rence, not so fast.” The sergeant grabbed Colvile's collar, and dragged the man back. “You're still a prisoner; no running.” He left the cell open and marched his prisoner between rows of empty cells, past the sergeants’ desk and up a set of stairs. Here a heavy metal door blocked the path. The sergeant drew level with Colvile and hammered on the door. A flap in the door dropped and two eyes squinted through.

  The door opened. Colvile was dragged through and along another corridor. Half way along they turned left then immediately right into an office. A woman sat with her back to the door, her hair covered by an embroidered black coif, popular among the more devout ladies at court; at the desk sat the Duke of Albon. He knew now who the 'Lord Commander' the sergeant talked of was, one of the few men who could sit in the Queen's presence.

  “Your Majesty! How kind of you to come, I don't know why this fool has arrested me.” Colvile bowed repeatedly.

  Lizzy turned in her seat and grinned at the curate as she removed the coif from her hair, “Not quite, Colvile, but it's interesting you should assume the Queen would come to help a mendicant preacher. Why would that be?”

  Colvile gulped and realised he'd been tricked. He slumped in the sergeant's arms. “I, I, I, used to be a part of her household, she was very fond of me.”

  “We know; but then she repudiated you. I can't imagine my sister-in-law would want to be associated with a traitor.”

  “I am not a traitor.”

  “Really?” The Duke looked at the papers on his desk, “We shall see. Sergeant, place the prisoner on the chair, if you'd be so kind.”

  “Of course yer grace. Excuse me Miss Lizzy.”

  The sergeant was a large man, all muscle and bone, he took up space, so manoeuvring the prisoner between Lizzy's chair and the wall wasn't the easiest task. Especially as Colvile had started to struggle. Lizzy stood, moving her chair out of the way; she closed the door, locking it to be certain, and returned to her seat. The sergeant had the prisoner in the metal chair and was struggling to pin the worming man down. The Duke stood to assist. The prisoner lashed out, clipping the sergeant on the head with a manacled wrist. Lizzy was impressed, first with the sergeant who didn't so much as blink, and secondly by Colvile; who'd have thought the scrawny creature had that much gumption?

  The Duke solved the problem by punching the curate, who's head snapped backwards and hit the wall. The duke and sergeant chained the dazed prisoner to the chair. The sergeant, satisfied the chains would hold took up a place by the door to observe.

  Colvile's eyes blinked twice and then he tried to stand. Lizzy smiled at him. It was a toothy, almost shark-like smile. Colvile shuddered.

  “Edward Colvile, you are here today because we have reason to believe you were involved in the abduction of the king's daughter; aiding and abetting Lord Mortlake, Lady Mortlake and Sur Maron Mortlake in their actions; and acting as a messenger between the Mortlakes and the originators of the abduction.”

  “I deny it absolutely.”

  “Really? And can you explain why you were in the Southern Hills in the weeks prior to Lady Fitzroy's abduction.”

  “Nothing to do with her I can assure you. I was on pilgrimage visiting the sites associated with our One True Lord. As you should be aware, the lake country was where the One found solace in his search for Being.”

  “Then, how is it you were seen in Lord Mortlake's house. As far as I am aware, no shrine exists there.”

  “
I don't know what you mean.”

  Lizzy had been watching the exchange between her uncle and the hated curate, and was absolutely certain that he was lying. She'd guessed before, but now she just knew. A vision started to cloud her eyes. She blinked; this was no time for daydreaming.

  “You're lying crow. You met Lord Mortlake at the Lake, in his carriage, and then returned to his house where you and your companion, a shorter, red-haired Curate, plotted to abduct me.”

  “How do you,” Covile recollected himself, “That's conjecture, you have no evidence any such thing occurred.”

  “We have witnesses.”

  “How could you, we were careful not to...oh.” Colvile sank in his seat, head in his hands.

  “Is that a confession?”

  Colvile grabbed at a remaining straw, “No it is not! What I meant to say was, my companion and I were careful to not disturb the residents of the lake country, knowing that they guard their shrine jealously and have accused visiting pilgrims of robbing their relics in the past. I know nothing about your abduction.”

  “Tell the truth and you'll receive a lighter sentence; I'm sure you were only following orders.”

  “I have nothing further to say.” The Curate crossed his arms and waited.

  “You really would be better off confessing Colvile, you'll save yourself a lot of pain.”

  The curate blanched, “You can't torture me! I'm a curate.”

  His bluster left his interrogators unimpressed, “You must have missed the news,” Lizzy drawled, “My father has declared forfeit the rank, lands and properties of anyone involved in my abduction, and we have more than enough evidence to show you were present at the meeting and acted as ambassador for the originator of the plan.”

  “So, tell us, Mr Colvile, ex-curate of this parish, who sent you?”

  “If you have the evidence you say you have, then I'm a dead man anyway; there's no reason I should take more people to the grave with me, on her account.”

  “And if I told you your life would be spared if you gave us the names?”

  “Why would I betray them? I've lost everything as it is; what point would there be in continuing to live?”

  “Very well. Sergeant, return the prisoner to his cell. Full treatment.”

  “Of course your grace.”

  The prisoner wondered what 'full treatment' meant, but had not time to ask before he was led away, considerably less defiant than he had been when he arrive.

  When the sound of chains had receded and the first door had clanged shut, Lizzy looked at her uncle,

  “Well, that didn't go as well as it could have.”

  “He admitted to being involved.”

  “But not who sent him. We need to find that out.” Lizzy pushed her chair back to stand. She paced the room, agitation and impatience coursing through her, and impatience. She was sure the queen had ordered her abduction and eventual death, but she couldn't prove it.

  “And your agents?”

  “Nothing at the moment. Summerton is searching the Mortlake properties for evidence and I sent a team to Colvile's lodgings when we arrested him. Unless one of them has been stupid enough to keep letters, it'll be difficult to follow the trail.”

  Lizzy stared across the courtyard, through thick glass that made all sights indistinct. The lamplighter was out, each dot of light flaring then settling into a gentle pool as he moved on. Each person in the palace was a cog in the machine that kept the place running, as Colvile was a cog in the conspiracy. If one cog broke the whole mechanism stopped. But, Lizzy realised, sometimes just the rumour that a vital piece was broken could stop the machine.

  “I don't like that grin Lizzy; it means someone is going to get hurt.”

  “Oh they are. Uncle, I think I have an idea.”

  Chapter 9

  A week passed with little obvious activity in the cells. An announcement was made in the Moot, the King's Council, and to the Curate's Council, that the conspirators had been identified, including the ring leaders, and arrests would follow shortly. The caveat was added that anyone who had been involved and would turn King's Evidence would receive a lighter sentence. The announcement was repeated in the Ford Daily. Colvile's name was kept from all reports, although his arrest had been trumpeted loudly in the days following it.

  In Court, the day after the announcements were made, Lizzy started to hear the whispering. Gossiping courtiers silenced themselves when she passed them in the Great Hall as though afraid that they would be the next to be arrested; Lizzy smiled her shark-like smile, nodded and passed them by, joining her father and his wife on the dais.

  “Good evening father, you look well.”

  “I am my dear, I am. Now that we know who was involved in your abduction I have little fear for your safety.”

  “Where's the High Curate this evening, ma'am, I thought you never went anywhere without him?”

  “I think that's a little exaggerated Elizabeth, I often attend Court without the company of the High Curate. He has other duties, you know.”

  “Indeed yes. I suppose he must, especially now.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Well, ma'am, it was two of his own Curates who acted as go betweens for my abduction. He must be busy investigating his clergy for signs of treason.”

  “Oh, no, I don't think so. I'm sure Colvile and Snapson were the only ones involved.”

  “Snapson?”

  “Oh, yes, he told me, the Curates were arrested. Didn't you know?”

  “No, I've had little to do with the investigation. It wouldn't be appropriate.”

  “Of course not. His grace has handled it all?”

  “I believe so; he said something about having the couriers sent to Gaol in a couple of days, to get them away from their co-conspirators, but that's all I've heard of the matter.”

  “Why the Gaol?”

  “Uncle fears for their safety, in the cells.”

  “Quite right, too, you never know who might visit. Though, as we know everyone involved it would be rather pointless to hurt the witnesses.”

  “Just so father.”

  “All the conspirators?”

  “Oh yes, ma'am, all of them.”

  “Well, good, that's good. When will the arrests begin?” The Queen looked at her husband.

  “Oh, very soon, Michael wants more time to prepare the cells. There's going to be a few formerly-important people in residence there by the end of the week.”

  “I see.” The Queen became quiet, staring at the courtiers milling about and chattering.

  Lizzy looked at her father. He seemed pensive; she supposed that knowing his wife had plotted to kill his daughter was weighing on him.

  “Father?”

  “Yes my dear?”

  “Where are my brothers this evening?”

  “Oh, I believe they went to visit Elenor. Catherine thought it would be good for them to spend a couple of days out of the city.”

  “You mean I'm going to have to put up with three small children screaming at the dinner table, rather than one?” Lizzy was grinning.

  “They're growing up; they need to socialise. I can hardly trust them with anyone outside the family at the moment, can I?”

  Lizzy smiled and shrugged. The Queen seemed to startle out of her daze. She hadn't known the boys were at the Ducal estates outside the city.

  “Dear, is it really safe for them to be there?”

  “Of course, my brother commands the Guards and his own forces; it would take an army to attack his house.”

  “You're quite correct father, the guards have all been on high alert since I returned. Nobody will get into the house unless they're invited.”

  “That's reassuring news. Elizabeth, where will you stay tonight?”

  “I was planning to stay here, it's far too late to leave for home now. You know how uncle is, he insists I return before dark if I'm going out.”

  “It's probably for the best. I'll have my personal Guards outside your
door, just to be certain. With the news of the arrests your enemies may try again before the duke arrests them.”

  “Possibly, your majesty, but with your Guards on the door I shall feel quite safe. Are you sure there will be enough to spare?”

  “How do you mean Lizzy?”

  “Well, father, I noticed there are a few less in the Hall this evening; are they sick ma'am?”

  “Oh, no, I believe there is some sort of celebration going on, one of them is getting married, or something.”

  “Ah, well I suppose that explains it.” Lizzy smiled sweetly and rose from her seat, “Father, ma'am.” She bowed and left the dais, looking for Lady Tessa Barnum, one of her few friends, and also an investor in the Ford Daily. Tess was almost a year older than Lizzy and ran her family estates for her aged mother and indolent brother.

  “Lizzy, there you are.” Tess darted out of an alcove where she had been keeping an eye on proceedings, to grasp her friend's hand.

  “Hello Tess, how's things?” Lizzy smiled, at her enthusiasm. It had been a while since she had seen anyone who really wanted to talk to her, other than family.

  “Not bad, dear, how are you? It's been an age.”

  “I'm tired mostly, and you visited us last week.” Lizzy grinned.

  “Help me find a table so we can sit down; be sociable for once.”

  “I'll try. I've got things on my mind.”

  “I know dear, I know. Why don't you tell me about it?”

  “I really can't, not yet.”

  “Oh, the arrests? Well, I suppose you have to keep it secret or people will fly off in the night.”

  “Something like that. But let's forget it for now; who's here tonight?”

  “Henry, Beth, and Charley. Phil and Gos couldn't get away from some family do.”

  “Poor them.”

  “I don't know, I rather enjoy family parties, at least at home I don't have to wear quite so many skirts.”

  “Don't wear them then.”

  “Just because you get away with wearing odd combinations of clothes doesn't mean the rest of us can. Mother tried to make me wear a coif tonight.”