“What do you propose I do instead?” Elizabeth asked.
“I propose we make an agreement—one not far different from the bargain you struck with Raleigh. I will see to it that Edward Kelley returns to England so that you can lock him in the Tower and force him to deliver up the philosopher’s stone—if he can.”
“And in return?” Elizabeth was her father’s daughter, after all, and understood that nothing in this life was free.
“In return you will harbor as many of the Berwick witches as I can get out of Edinburgh until King James’s madness has run its course.”
“Absolutely not!” Burghley said. “Think, madam, what might happen to your relationship with our neighbors to the north if you were to invite scores of Scottish witches over the border!”
“There are not so many witches left in Scotland,” Matthew said grimly, “since you refused my earlier pleas.”
“I did think, Shadow, that one of your occupations while in England was to make sure your people did not meddle in our politics. What if these private machinations are found out? How will you explain your actions?” The queen scrutinized him.
“I will say that misery acquaints every man with strange bedfellows, Your Majesty.”
Elizabeth made a soft sound of amusement. “That is doubly true for women,” she said drily. “Very well. We are agreed. You will go to Prague and get Kelley. Mistress Roydon may attend upon me, here at court, to ensure your speedy return.”
“My wife is not part of our bargain, and there is no need to send me to Bohemia in January. You are determined to have Kelley back. I will see to it that he is delivered.”
“You are not king here!” Elizabeth jabbed at his chest with her finger. “You go where I send you, Master Roydon. If you do not, I will have you and your witch of a wife in the Tower for treason. And worse,” she said, her eyes sparking.
Someone scratched at the door.
“Enter!” Elizabeth bellowed.
“The Countess of Pembroke requests an audience, Your Majesty,” a guard said apologetically.
“God’s teeth,” the queen swore. “Am I never to know a moment’s peace? Show her in.”
Mary Sidney sailed into the room, her veils and ruffs billowing as she moved from the chilly antechamber to the overheated room the queen occupied. She dropped a graceful curtsy midway, floated further into the room, and dropped another perfect curtsy. “Your Majesty,” she said, head bowed.
“What brings you to court, Lady Pembroke?”
“You once granted me a boon, Your Majesty—a guard against future need.”
“Yes, yes,” Elizabeth said testily. “What has your husband done now?”
“Nothing at all.” Mary got to her feet. “I have come to ask for permission to send Mistress Roydon on an important errand.”
“I cannot imagine why,” Elizabeth retorted. “She seems neither useful nor resourceful.”
“I have need of special glasses for my experiments that can only be acquired from Emperor Rudolf’s workshops. My brother’s wife—forgive me, for since Philip’s death she is now remarried and the Countess of Essex— tells me that Master Roydon is being sent to Prague. Mistress Roydon will go with him, with your blessing, and fetch what I require.”
“That vain, foolish boy! The Earl of Essex cannot resist sharing every scrap of intelligence he has with the world.” Elizabeth whirled away in a flurry of silver and gold. “I’ll have the popinjay’s head for this!”
“You did promise me, Your Majesty, when my brother died defending your kingdom, that you would grant me a favor one day.” Mary smiled serenely at Matthew and me.
“And you want to waste such a precious gift on these two?” Elizabeth looked skeptical.
“Once Matthew saved Philip’s life. He is like a brother to me.” Mary blinked at the queen with owlish innocence.
“You can be as smooth as ivory, Lady Pembroke. I wish we saw more of you at court.” Elizabeth threw up her hands. “Very well. I will keep my word. But I want Edward Kelley in my presence by midsummer—and I don’t want this bungled, or for all of Europe to know my business. Do you understand me, Master Roydon?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Matthew said through gritted teeth.
“Get yourself to Prague, then. And take your wife with you, to please Lady Pembroke.”
“Thank you, Majesty.” Matthew looked rather alarmingly as if he wished to rip Elizabeth Tudor’s bewigged head from her body.