“I have it in hand, thank you.”
“As you say.”
He’s getting better at this, William thought, offering counsel without telling me what to do. It pleased him that his uncle was beginning to respect his authority.
Now pray God Dominic found something damning to wrap it up neatly before word leaked to any of Northumberland’s supporters.
Dominic returned to Whitehall well after midnight, only to be informed by Harrington that the king had left orders for him to report no matter what hour he returned. He took a few minutes to change his shirt, dusty and creased from hours of prying through wardrobes and checking loose floorboards, then gathered up what he had found.
He was shown to William’s private oratory, a small space somewhat plainer than of old but still beautiful with its gilded and carved screens and the lectern upon which rested the pride of William’s reign, the Tyndale Bible in English. It was open to the book of Luke and, as William beckoned him in, he said, “Chapter twenty-one—‘for these be the days of vengeance.’ Even you will agree with that when I tell you what I learned from my uncle this afternoon.”
“Which was?”
William glanced at the sheaf of papers Dominic held, but continued with his own news. “I have a man in the Tower being questioned. He was seen in Minuette’s rooms the day she was poisoned. He claimed to be delivering a message from his employer, the Duke of Northumberland.”
Dominic was seized by an urge to question the man himself—or perhaps not so much question as inflict pain upon.
“Tell me you found something,” William added.
“You’re not going to like it.”
William visibly restrained himself from reaching for the papers Dominic held. “I won’t like what?”
For a moment, Dominic hesitated. He knew what would follow from this and he almost did not want to go on. Let the nobility tear itself to pieces, what did he care?
But he cared very much when Minuette was a target. “You know Northumberland hasn’t been at his London house for months, not since you sent him away from court. There was little to raise any suspicions, but he left so hastily I suppose he overlooked a few things. I would call them suggestive, rather than conclusive.”
William swiped his hand impatiently. “Such as?”
“A partial accounting of monies paid out to individuals indicated only by their initials. Some foreign coins, including French and Dutch. And a vial—an empty vial.”
“A vial that could have held monkshood? Where is it?”
“With Harrington. I’ll take it to an apothecary tomorrow and see what they can tell me.”
“Is that all?”
Dominic sighed. “And a partial letter, begun but never sent.”
He handed over the pages and William studied the first one. “This is your handwriting,” the king pointed out.
“The original is beneath. A letter in Northumberland’s hand, in cipher.”
He watched William read, guessing at the emotions his friend was experiencing, the disappointment and fury that Dominic had passed through in the last hours. He had thought himself prepared for whatever his search of Ely Place turned up. He had not been prepared for this: incontrovertible evidence of state treason. Unlike the suspicions against Norfolk last year, this could not be mistaken for anything else.
The letter, as Dominic had said, was only partially complete. It had been addressed to one of the principal ministers in the strongly Protestant Low Countries and it was clearly not the first letter Northumberland had sent.
The duke referenced previous communications throughout the letter, and addressed specific issues that the minister must have raised. Some of it was innocent enough and might occasion no more than a raised eyebrow and a reminder that some phrases could be interpreted in more than one way. But when discussion had turned to Minuette, Northumberland’s language became seditious.
The girl is a nuisance, nothing more. The king is young, and young men often intend impulsive things. She seeks to take advantage of his infatuation, but I assure you, she has not the late queen’s abilities. William need only be persuaded that he can fulfill both his duty and his desire—let him take her to his bed, give her children if he must, but I swear to you, she will never be queen.
If all else fails, I will not see England drawn into war over a mistress with pretensions. Better a queen who will be ruled by wisdom than a king who seeks only his own desires.
William read the last sentence aloud, dropping the words like coals heaped on Northumberland’s head. Then he looked at Dominic and said, “He would never countenance Mary on the throne. He may seek to use the Catholics, but he would not turn England back to Rome. Not even to gain a pliable ruler.”
“He didn’t mean Mary,” Dominic countered, staring at his friend’s outraged face. “He meant Elizabeth.”
“He cannot imagine Elizabeth would usurp my place under any circumstances!”
