“That’s very wise,” Matthew said quietly. He regarded Fran?oise. “What did he want?”
She shrugged. “I do not know. He was here when I came home with madame’s pork pie. Lord Burghley asked for wine. That daemon drank everything in the house earlier today. I went out for more.”
Matthew disappeared. He returned at a more sedate pace, looking relieved. I shot to my feet. The attics—and all the secrets hidden there.
“Did he—”
“No,” Matthew interrupted. “Everything is exactly as I left it. Did William say why he was here?”
“Lord Burghley told me to tell you he called.” I hesitated. “And he told me to leave the city.”
Annie entered the room, along with a chattering Jack and a grinning Pierre, but after one look at Matthew’s face, Pierre’s smile dissolved. I took the linens from Annie.
“Why don’t you take the children to the Cardinal’s Hat, Fran?oise?” I said. “Pierre will go, too.”
“Huzzah!” Jack shouted, delighted at the prospect of a night out. “Master Shakespeare is teaching me to juggle.”
“So long as he doesn’t try to improve your penmanship, I have no objection,” I said, catching Jack’s hat as he tossed it in the air. The last thing we needed was the boy adding forgery to his list of skills. “Go and have your supper. And try to remember what your handkerchief is for.”
“I will,” Jack said, wiping his nose with his sleeve.
“Why did Lord Burghley come all the way to the Blackfriars to see you?” I asked when we were alone.
“Because I received intelligence from Scotland today.”
“What now?” I said, my throat closing. It was not the first time the Berwick witches had been discussed in my presence, but somehow Burghley’s presence made it seem as though the evil was creeping over our threshold.
“King James continues to question the witches. William wanted to discuss what—if anything—the queen should do in response.” He frowned at the change in my scent as the fear took hold. “You don’t need to know what’s happening in Scotland.”
“Not knowing doesn’t keep it from happening.”
“No,” Matthew said, his fingers gentle on my neck as he tried to rub the tension away. “Neither does knowing.”
The next day I came home from Goody Alsop’s carrying a small wooden spell box—a place to let my written spells incubate until they were ready for another witch to use. Finding a way to put my magic to words was the next step in my evolution as a weaver. Right now the box held only my weaver’s cords. Marjorie didn’t think my disguising spell was quite ready for other witches yet.
A wizard on Thames Street made the box from the limb from the rowan that the firedrake gave me the night I made my forspell. He’d carved a tree on its surface, the roots and branches weirdly intertwined so that you couldn’t tell them apart. Not a single nail held the box together. Instead there were nearly invisible joints. The wizard was proud of his work, and I couldn’t wait to show it to Matthew.
The Hart and Crown was oddly quiet. Neither the fire nor the candles in the parlor were lit. Matthew was in his study, alone. Three wine jugs stood on the table before him. Two of them were, presumably, empty. Matthew didn’t normally drink so heavily.
“What’s wrong?” He picked up a sheet of paper. Thick red wax clung to its folds. The seal was cracked across the middle. “We are called to court.”
I sank into the chair opposite. “When?”
“Her Majesty has graciously permitted us to wait until tomorrow.” Matthew snorted. “Her father was not half so forgiving. When Henry wanted people to attend him, he sent for them even if they were in their bed and a gale was blowing.”
I had been eager to meet the queen of England—when I was back in Madison. After meeting the shrewdest man in the kingdom, I no longer had any desire to meet the canniest woman. “Must we go?” I asked, half hoping Matthew would dismiss the royal command.
“In her letter the queen took pains to remind me of her statute against conjurations, enchantments, and witchcrafts.” Matthew tossed the paper onto the table. “It would seem Mr. Danforth wrote a letter to his bishop. Burghley buried the complaint, but it resurfaced.” Matthew swore.
“Then why are we going to court?” I clutched at my spell box. The cords inside were slithering around, eager to help answer my question.
“Because if we are not in the audience chamber at Richmond Palace by two in the afternoon tomorrow, Elizabeth will arrest us both.” Matthew’s eyes looked like chips of sea glass. “It won’t take long for the Congregation to learn the truth about us then.”