rickety houses, holding up her skirts to avoid tripping over them. She paused, breathless, at the far end. Smoke from the last of the fireworks lay acrid on the air. Two more alleyways faced her, both equally narrow and steeped in foggy darkness, warm with the stench of pigs and chickens, and pots slung hastily over the fire.
Once again she cursed the flimsy strap on her shoe, which had broken as she and Catherine had walked towards their lodgings in the Brays. Catherine had gone on ahead, and by the time Lucy had tied up her shoe with the string from her purse, the alley was empty and she had little choice but to retrace her steps.
‘Sirs? Masters?’ There were two men ahead of her, carrying a long, battered wooden chest between them. From the blue of their liveried coats, she knew they must be the Earl of Leicester’s men. ‘Beg pardon, but I … I’m lost. I’m with the entertainers’ troupe. Do you know where I might find Master Payne?’
One of the men eyed her face and then her low-cut gown with a look she found disturbing. ‘One of the court entertainers, are you? And what is it you do for those fine ladies and gentlemen, my black beauty?’
The other, an older man with a grizzled beard, laid down his end of the chest with a disapproving grunt. ‘Now, Simon Talley, that’s quite enough from you.’ He wiped his hands on his apron and considered her. The night was warm and airless, and the sound of stamping feet, whistling and a fiddler’s rough tune drifted across from makeshift tents under the castle walls. ‘Master Payne, is it? He’ll be busy housing the Queen’s servants tonight.’
‘That’s why I need to speak to him. I was following my friend in search of our lodgings. But my shoe broke and I fell behind.’
‘No need to distress yourself.’ The older man smiled, showing broken teeth. ‘Did you come down from the outer court? You’d best go back and find a place to sleep. It’s a maze in here, with all these tents and what have you, so watch you don’t get lost again. Take that lane. Then head through the gate and across the tiltyard. You’ll find Master Payne at his station on the bridge. And if any of the guards ask what your business is, tell them old John Tatter sent you. That’ll shut them up.’
‘Thank you.’
Calmer now, she followed the old man’s instructions and found her way back towards the tall, brooding shadow she guessed to be the inner keep of the castle. The place was still noisy and bustling, despite the lateness of the hour. Passing to and fro between the inner and outer courts, the Queen’s servants and Leicester’s men lugged bags, trunks and furniture from the unloading carts. Men of office tramped past her in the dark, arguing fiercely, an ancient servant bent almost double behind, laden with books and papers, a secretary’s bag slung over his shoulder. Two men lumbered along with a high-backed leather chair. A dog ran barking up the slope and disappeared over the bridge into the inner court, followed a moment later by a heavy young boy in a velvet cap, red-faced, whistling and calling in vain.
Some of the other entertainers were still arriving, loud and colourful in their outrageous costumes, carrying trained animals and exotic birds in cages, looking for a place to set up their tents and hammocks. These were not travelling with the Queen’s progress, so had to bribe their way into a place in the castle grounds. Lucy watched as fat purses changed hands on the gate without any attempt at concealment. From their loud discussions, impossible not to overhear, the guards were guiding some of these travellers down to the camp at the Brays. Others were forced to seek their own shelter in the village, or even in the open countryside beyond, depending on their standing with Leicester.
Lucy’s attention was caught by one man who seemed unable to come to an arrangement with the guards. Forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be seeking Master Payne,
Once again she cursed the flimsy strap on her shoe, which had broken as she and Catherine had walked towards their lodgings in the Brays. Catherine had gone on ahead, and by the time Lucy had tied up her shoe with the string from her purse, the alley was empty and she had little choice but to retrace her steps.
‘Sirs? Masters?’ There were two men ahead of her, carrying a long, battered wooden chest between them. From the blue of their liveried coats, she knew they must be the Earl of Leicester’s men. ‘Beg pardon, but I … I’m lost. I’m with the entertainers’ troupe. Do you know where I might find Master Payne?’
One of the men eyed her face and then her low-cut gown with a look she found disturbing. ‘One of the court entertainers, are you? And what is it you do for those fine ladies and gentlemen, my black beauty?’
The other, an older man with a grizzled beard, laid down his end of the chest with a disapproving grunt. ‘Now, Simon Talley, that’s quite enough from you.’ He wiped his hands on his apron and considered her. The night was warm and airless, and the sound of stamping feet, whistling and a fiddler’s rough tune drifted across from makeshift tents under the castle walls. ‘Master Payne, is it? He’ll be busy housing the Queen’s servants tonight.’
‘That’s why I need to speak to him. I was following my friend in search of our lodgings. But my shoe broke and I fell behind.’
‘No need to distress yourself.’ The older man smiled, showing broken teeth. ‘Did you come down from the outer court? You’d best go back and find a place to sleep. It’s a maze in here, with all these tents and what have you, so watch you don’t get lost again. Take that lane. Then head through the gate and across the tiltyard. You’ll find Master Payne at his station on the bridge. And if any of the guards ask what your business is, tell them old John Tatter sent you. That’ll shut them up.’
‘Thank you.’
Calmer now, she followed the old man’s instructions and found her way back towards the tall, brooding shadow she guessed to be the inner keep of the castle. The place was still noisy and bustling, despite the lateness of the hour. Passing to and fro between the inner and outer courts, the Queen’s servants and Leicester’s men lugged bags, trunks and furniture from the unloading carts. Men of office tramped past her in the dark, arguing fiercely, an ancient servant bent almost double behind, laden with books and papers, a secretary’s bag slung over his shoulder. Two men lumbered along with a high-backed leather chair. A dog ran barking up the slope and disappeared over the bridge into the inner court, followed a moment later by a heavy young boy in a velvet cap, red-faced, whistling and calling in vain.
Some of the other entertainers were still arriving, loud and colourful in their outrageous costumes, carrying trained animals and exotic birds in cages, looking for a place to set up their tents and hammocks. These were not travelling with the Queen’s progress, so had to bribe their way into a place in the castle grounds. Lucy watched as fat purses changed hands on the gate without any attempt at concealment. From their loud discussions, impossible not to overhear, the guards were guiding some of these travellers down to the camp at the Brays. Others were forced to seek their own shelter in the village, or even in the open countryside beyond, depending on their standing with Leicester.
Lucy’s attention was caught by one man who seemed unable to come to an arrangement with the guards. Forgetting for a moment that she was supposed to be seeking Master Payne,
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