The Poyson Garden by Karen Harper Read Free Book Online Page B

grave.
    For a moment all seemed silent. Then the sheet ripped in a long, screaming tear. The wind sighed. The lady spoke again.
    "You did not tell me he was so fair of coloring and face, Harry."
    "And of heart," he added with his arms crossed and head bent as if he were in prayer. So that man must be Lord Henry Carey himself. Such piety from a Boleyn almost made the watching woman vomit too. "He never sought profit or preferment," he went on. "Jenks, help me turn him to get at that arrow that went clear through his middle. We will have to cut it out his back. Can you hold that lantern up now?" he asked the lady.
    As wan light leapt into her eyes, the watching woman instinctively pulled her veil down over her face. She crept back to become one with the shadows of the church. Leaning her shoulder against the cold stone wall, she wondered who the lady was and waited.
     
    The stab of sorrow--and the stench--made Elizabeth's nose run and her stomach continue to churn. It wasn't so much the slick, writhing
    worms that were already at the corpse but the white, fine, velvety coating that covered its skin--and how that contrasted to the dreadful black puddles of flesh. There were dried blisters where each arrow went in and even where the one poked out his back. Because Henry had only one good hand, Jenks worked quickly with his dagger to cut that broken shaft and tip loose. They were all wearing gloves, so those made Jenks a bit awkward, but Elizabeth had insisted on them. She had dreamed of poison, and poison this black festering mass could be.
    "Harry, do you think," she said, her voice nasal because she held her nose, "it went so far through him because he fell on it, as you did your sword?"
    "I saw him flat on his back, and he didn't look as if he rolled over onto it."
    "Then perhaps the person who shot this arrow was especially strong," she said, her voice faltering, "or else ..." She began to shake so much the lantern light trembled.
    "Or what, milady?" Jenks asked, as he freed the arrow point and broken shaft and held them up to her.
    "Or, else," she said, reaching for it, "when they came across the road to look for Lord Harry, someone drove it deeper into W. But we need not know that to realize we are dealing with cruel or desperate men."
    "Take that arrow and go on in," Harry urged her. "Jenks and I will finish up here, and we'll talk before you leave."
    "I need to hold the light for you."
    "Go look in on my mother," her cousin insisted, tossing his cloak off and helping Jenks awkwardly shovel soil back in, one-handed. "We've enough light here for this."
    But to examine the arrow she held up the lantern, which threw light on it and full on her face. "Please go on, Elizabeth," Harry said, his voice annoyed.
    Elizabeth was certain she heard someone's swift gasp, but it was neither man and hardly poor W. She set the lantern down and blocked it with her legs and cloak to scan the darkness better, but the light had temporarily blinded her. Was there sudden movement there, over by the church? Perhaps someone had heard them digging and come to see. But the wind was rustling leaves, and the spades were scuffing soil
    into the grave. Yes, she would go look in on her aunt one last time before they rode out. But then she thought of it.
    "Wait," she ordered and they both halted their spades. "You said he was loyal to me, cousin, that he would have served me. I want to give him this, though he will never know how truly he has pleased his future qu--I mean, his princess." She reached inside her shirt and took off the crucifix that swung by a delicate chain. Her sister had given it to her one yuletide, long before their father died.
    "Someone else will find it when they dig him up and put his bones in the charnel house," Harry said, and she thought he would protest further. "But I tell you, Will would be proud of it--and mayhap he knows, eh?"
    Elizabeth nodded, but whatever prayer she meant to say caught in her throat. Despite the fact