A pack of wolves appeared to track him across most of the country, and strangers waited at crossroads, threatening him as he rode by, or urging him to stop for food or drink. On the first occasion, he had brought his mount to a halt, thinking the stranger needed directions. Soon he had found himself listening to a long, involved story that quickly made him drowsy, and only when he realised the stranger was attempting to search his saddlebag did he ride on. Just as unnerving was that within a mile he couldn't recall the stranger's face.
He had always considered himself a man of reason, but as he passed Oxford the sticky weight of superstition had finally begun to lie upon him. However much he attempted to dismiss the chance occurrences, they piled around him to such a degree that he saw supernatural danger in every shadow, and felt the Devil was at his heels. To save his sanity, he knew he would have to question Will when he returned to London, however much he dreaded the answers.
Within the palace walls, activity was beginning to build towards lunch after another lazy morning of discourse, sewing, business with visitors from the shires, or walks among the perfumed gardens. Nathaniel guided his horse directly to the Black Gallery, and on weary, shaking legs sought out Walsingham who had been in conference with a man recently returned from France. Whatever he had heard in that meeting had left him in a dark mood.
Nathaniel quickly outlined the events in Edinburgh, as far as he had been told, and related Will's desperate plea for Grace to be protected.
'I do not know this woman, but I will send men to bring her here now,' Walsingham said. 'If she requires protection, we can offer her the best in the land.' He paused. 'If she is still here.'
Nathaniel felt a pang of fear. He had ridden as hard as he was able, but could their enemies have beaten him to the palace and still found the opportunity to capture Grace?
'And the reason you travelled to Edinburgh?' Walsingham pressed.
From his pack, Nathaniel withdrew the folded cloth and revealed the amulet. 'The enemy fought hard to retrieve this, and pursued me all the way from Scotland. It must be vital to their plans.'
Walsingham's eyes gleamed, but he would not touch the amulet. He called loudly for Dee, who hurried in a few moments later as Walsingham paced the room.
'You must tell no one that the doctor is here in England,' Walsingham cautioned Nathaniel. He left Nathaniel in no doubt that the punishment for disobedience would be severe. But then he and Dee huddled over the amulet with barely restrained triumph.
'Is this the object we sought?' Walsingham asked.
'See here? The filigree? This symbol here? It is the language of angels,' Dee said. 'This is a true object of power.'
'Then you will study it? Unlock its secrets?'
Dee nodded excitedly. 'The Enemy will be eager to reclaim this. It must be kept in a place of formidable protection. The Tower?'
'No. Its defences have already been breached,' Walsingham said. 'We keep it close. Here, at the palace.' He fixed an eye on Dee. 'The Lantern Tower.'
Dee agreed this was the best option and hurried out with the amulet, but Nathaniel was left puzzled. He had heard much talk of the Lantern Tower, a unique, solitary tower constructed by Elizabeth at the heart of the palace complex, yet no one appeared to know its use, and few were ever seen entering it.
Eager to return to his business, Walsingham dismissed Nathaniel to the suite of rooms on the third floor of the western wing overlooking the tiltyard built by Henry for his jousting competitions.
As he stood at the window looking out over the smoky city, Nathaniel felt the tension of his long ride dissipate and a grey mood creep in its place. Though the view was drenched in sunlight, he could see only shadows. The world had changed, or he had, and where there had been joy there was now only incipient threat, and a sense of everything he knew careering off-kilter. Fear rumbled on the edge of his consciousness for no obvious reason.
The door closed quietly, and he started, but when he turned it was only Grace. With relief, he rushed to her and held her in his arms.
'Why, Nat,' she said, surprised. 'What is wrong?' She placed her hands on his cheeks to study his face, and became concerned by what she saw there. 'What troubles you? Is it Will?'
'No, he is well. He recovers from a few injuries, but no worse than he has endured before.'
She was relieved by his news, but her concern for him did not diminish. 'There is a shadow over you. It is not good to keep such things locked away. Talk to me.'
Shaking his head, he forced a smile. 'Another time. For now, I am happy to see you well.'
'And why would I not be?' She stepped away from him, before casting a suspicious glance back at him. 'What business occupies Will?' she asked, as if making polite conversation.
'You must ask him that yourself, when he is back in London.' He maintained a bright tone, not wanting her to realise she was in danger. But then the door opened and John Carpenter marched in. He nodded to Nat and waited.
'What is this?' Grace asked suspiciously.
'This is John Carpenter, an associate of Will's. You saw him in Alsatia?'
'Yes, I remember. Why is he here?'
'Lord Walsingham has sent him. He is to keep you from harm.'
'Harm? I live and work in the Palace of Whitehall. Harm cannot reach me here. And who would ever seek to harm me?'
Nathaniel's laugh eased her concerns. 'Why, no one, Grace! But Will-'
'Will! He would keep me locked away in a tower if he could,' she said with bitterness.
'Indulge him,' Nathaniel said quietly. 'You would not wish him consumed with worry.'
Knowing she had little choice, she glanced back at Carpenter and said acidly, 'I never tire of witty conversation with one of Lord Walsingham's men.'
'Do not tease him,' Nathaniel whispered. 'His humour is not good.'
Quietly seething, Grace shook her head wearily and marched towards the door.
Once she had gone, Nathaniel felt relieved that she was in safe hands, but in the silence of the room, his uneasy mood descended once more. He returned to the window to study the booming city, the source of one of the greatest powers in the world, yet in the face of what he now feared existed beyond the walls, he wondered how secure it truly was.
CHAPTER 30
espite her furious protests, John Carpenter bundled the cloaked and hooded Grace into the back of a servants' wagon beneath a heap of filthy sacks that had been used for transporting grain and still swarmed with beetles. Carpenter was not a gentle man, and treated Grace as he would any person who was not important to him, woman or not. Clearly, whatever mission had been imposed upon him, he felt it beneath his dignity. He told Grace to remain silent for the duration of their journey or he would stop the wagon and dump her out on the highway where she would have to fend for herself against whatever brigands and cutthroats waited.
His tone angered her; she had more value than he showed her, and from anyone else she would not have accepted such treatment, but there was an increasing urgency to the proceedings that had started to concern her. She remembered the strange expression on Nat's face, that sense that all was not well with the world, shocking in a man who always radiated a sunny optimism behind his sardonic exterior. What happened? she wondered. What could turn a personality on its axis to that degree? Something extreme, something terrible? And as she had told Nat, Will was always overprotective, but this was beyond even his usual concerns. Will feared for her life, and he
