“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!”
“Lord Montfallcon…” began Quire before the door opened and the footman spoke.
“Lord Montfallcon, Your Majesty.”
Gloriana was reluctant. She looked imploringly to Tom Ffynne, who was helpless. She was conquered by her old loyalty, her good heart, by convention. “Admit him.”
Lord Montfallcon, in his dignified black, with his gold chain, his iron head of a paler cast than usual, strode into the room and stood before them, like Death himself come calling. He stared suspiciously from face to face, then bowed before the Queen, still keeping his distance.
“Ingleborough’s demise, it seems, was natural,” he said.
“Aye, my lord.” The Queen inclined her head towards John Dee. “So we have heard.”
“In these days it is wise to be sure.” Tom Ffynne rallied a little weakly to his friend.
“In these days, very true.” Montfallcon stared hard at Quire, to the Queen’s resentment. She rose up.
“My lord?” she said impatiently. “My lord?”
“I intrude upon some private conference.” Montfallcon made no attempt to advance into the room. He saw no allies, save Ffynne, and Ffynne was apparently an uncertain one. “But my business is urgent, Your Majesty.”
“Then do, my good lord, tell us what it is.” She looked at Quire as she spoke. The Captain looked back.
“It concerns your public duties, Your Majesty. I must make arrangements. Since the Countess of Scaith no longer acts as your Secretary, I must suppose I fill the role. Unless your-unless this Captain Quire-”
“Captain Quire has no official function, my lord.”
“Then? Your Majesty?”
“What are the duties, in specific, Lord Montfallcon?”
“There are many who would speak with you. Ambassadors and so forth. In these days, when war is threatened, it would be wise to insist, in your person, upon our power.”
“Let them know some mystery, my lord. It could be argued it makes us more powerful, if we are not seen.”
“There is also the Progress, Your Majesty. Through the Realm your most loyal nobles await your coming. They must be informed when they may expect you. They prepare entertainments, as is usual, from south to north, west to east, in all the great houses of the Realm. With the Perrotts presently mollified a degree or two, it is of importance that you spend time with these families, who will support you, should the Perrotts begin again to speak of secret enterprises and look for allies amongst fellow nobles.”
The Queen had hardly been listening. Her voice was casual when she replied, “We have decided against a Progress this year, my lord. We feel that the Summer Tilt was sufficient to advertise our friends of our favour and health and our enemies of our strength and support.”
“It was a gain, madam, certainly. But it must be ratified. The Progress will be crucial, this year of all years. The Court can go about the land, reinforcing the buttresses of the Realm’s structure.”
“They need no reinforcing, surely?” Captain Quire seemed to regret his outburst. “I only meant to say that Albion has never seemed stronger.”
Montfallcon glared at him. “A structure’s as strong as its proprietor’s vigilance. Lice and vermin and rot can occupy its walls, destroying its beams and its foundations, so that it seems by its outer signs the best-made house in all the world-until one day it falls, all of a sudden.”
“I have heard of merchants who fear so much for the safety of their buildings that they will saw through perfectly healthy beams in a search for worms, dig up the best-laid foundations in a quest for suspected pests, and thus bring their houses down upon their own heads.” Captain Quire fell silent at the Queen’s warning glance. “But I know nothing of such matters, my lord. Forgive me for speaking on them.”
“You seem thoroughly conversant, ‘Sir Palmerin,’ “Lord Montfallcon let weary contempt infect his tone, “in all matters concerning the control of vermin. Have you perhaps suffered the attentions of some terrier in your own time? Or been a terrier yourself?”
“You become obscure, my lord,” answered Quire mildly, but he was able to show to the Queen that his feelings had been hurt, and she became engaged.
“My Lord Montfallcon. You overreach!”
“For what, madam?” Bleakly.
“Show courtesy to our guest! What harm has he done to you that you should display such disaffection?”
“Harm?” Montfallcon frowned. He opened his mouth. He said lamely: “He-I know his like.”
“What like is that, my lord?” Quire seemed to tremble with self-control as he spoke.
“Enough!” The Queen was fierce. “You are distraught, my lord, for reasons that we all do know. If you would rest, and return this afternoon, we should be pleased to speak more on the matter. Explain our reasons fully, if you so desire.”
“Excuse yourself from Duty, madam? Is that what you mean? You must make your Progress!”
“Perion!” cried Tom Ffynne, springing up and limping forward. “Wait a few hours-”
“You must make your Progress, madam!” He used his quiet, furious voice. “The Realm depends upon it.”
“The Realm is secure.”
“The Realm has never been more threatened.”
“How so?”
“Believe me that it is so, madam.”
