The Queen's Dwarf A Novel by Ella March Chase Read Free Book Online

chin. My muscles ached so much that first month here, I’d cry when no one was looking. Now, whenever His Grace needs a kitchen page to serve at one of his fancy meetings, who does the steward send but Clemmy Watson? Don’t know what would have happened without my mam’s salve.” He held the clay pot out to me. I smeared the foul-smelling stuff over my bruises in hopes that he would stop harping.
    Instead, he filled my ears with tales of the wonders we would see in the city. “There is no place like London when it comes to putting on shows, be it in the theaters or the Tower’s menagerie, Southwark’s bear pits or horses racing near St. James’s Park.”
    Suddenly, Clemmy’s brow darkened. Perhaps he thought once we reached the city it would be too dangerous to be friends with someone labeled “devil spawn.” His kindness to me in my patron’s own household had already caused gossip among his fellow servants.
    “I will not have time for such excursions,” I said, surprised by my regret. “Besides, you have risked enough ill will on my account.”
    Clemmy seemed to shake himself inwardly. “I was not thinking of those superstitious fools. The mention of St. James’s brought back memories I wish to forget.”
    If Samuel had been in my place, he would have fallen silent to avoid jarring a wound. John would have changed the subject. I hesitated, aware that my place in Buckingham’s employ depended upon coaxing the queen to reveal incidents that pained her. Would it not be wise to test my skill?
    “I am told London is full of dangers. Your expression when you spoke of your memory has made me more nervous than ever.” I saw Clemmy flush, the patch of scaly skin on his chin white. “I would not want you to recount something unpleasant,” I said soothingly. “I only wish I did not have so vivid an imagination.”
    “No harm easing the mind of a friend,” Clemmy said. “Not like I had any part in it, except seeing something I wish I could scrub out of my head.” I felt both triumph and shame as Clemmy spoke.
    “I’d just finished serving the sea captains Master Ware had brought to speak to His Grace. See, my grandda had sailed with Raleigh, and the captains were all agog to hear the tales Grandda passed on. Ware was so pleased with me that he gave me the rest of the day off. Met an old friend wandering near St. James’s Park and he took me to see two Jesuit spies executed at Tyburn Tree. Suppose I should not have been so surprised the prisoners showed such nerve when the executioner put the knives to their bellies. The Pope’s minions are trained by people who want to bring the Inquisition to England. My friend cheered with the rest of the crowd, raging that Jesuits plotted with other Catholics, wanting to make good Guy Fawkes’s plan to blow up Parliament and old King James. Said loyal Englishmen had to keep such deviltry at bay. The priests were getting the punishment they earned, but it didn’t sit well with my stomach to watch it. Broke down, I did, and begged the executioner to put an end to them quick.”
    “Not wishing a fellow creature to suffer cannot be such a bad thing.”
    “You don’t know how dangerous it is to sympathize with Jesuits in the city. Lots of Puritans there. The crowd got mad as snakes at me for trying to cut their fun short. Don’t like having the Roman faith rubbed in their faces.”
    I could never understand why so many Catholics seemed eager to do just that. Why not be reasonable, as my family was? Like most country folk, we leaned toward the old ways, but we did as the law commanded and filled an Anglican pew every Sunday. Even Samuel, the only devout one among us, agreed it did not matter if you sat through the Anglican service as long as you were loyal to the true faith in your heart.
    “Only a fool would think arguments about the sacraments were worth risking beggary or imprisonment or the death those priests were dealt,” I said.
    “Still have nightmares about