Deborah Harkness - Shadow of Night

“No,” Hubbard said with a shake of his head. “Your blood would be tainted. It must be pure.”

“A silver cup, then,” I said, thinking of Chef’s lectures at Sept-Tours.

“You will open the vein in your wrist over my mouth and let the blood fall into it. We will not touch.” Hubbard scowled at me. “Otherwise I will doubt the sincerity of your offer.”

“Very well, Father Hubbard. I accept your terms.” I loosened the tie at my right cuff and pushed up the sleeve. While I did so, I whispered a silent request to Corra. “Where do you wish to do this? From what I saw before, your children kneel before you, but that will not work if I’m to drip the blood into your mouth.”

“It does not matter to God who kneels.” To my surprise, Hubbard dropped to the floor before me. He handed me a knife.

“I don’t need that.” I flicked my finger at the blue traceries on my wrist and murmured a simple unbinding charm. A line of crimson appeared. The blood welled. “Are you ready?”

Hubbard nodded and opened his mouth, his eyes on my face. He was waiting for me to renege, or cheat him somehow. But I would obey the letter of this agreement, though not its spirit. Thank you, Goody Alsop , I said, sending her a silent blessing for showing me how to handle the man.

I held my wrist over his mouth and clenched my fist. A drop of blood rolled over the edge of my arm and began to fall. Hubbard’s eyes flickered closed, as if he wanted to concentrate on what my blood would tell him.

“What is blood, if not fire and water?” I murmured. I called on the wind to slow the droplet’s fall. As the power of the air increased, it froze the falling bead of blood so that it was crystalline and sharp when it landed on Hubbard’s tongue. The vampire’s eyes shot open in confusion.

“No more than a drop.” The wind had dried the remaining blood against my skin in a maze of red streaks over the blue veins. “You are a man of God, a man of your word, are you not, Father Hubbard?”

Corra’s tail loosened from around my waist. She’d used it to block our baby from having any knowledge of this sordid transaction, but now she seemed to want to use it to beat Hubbard senseless.

Slowly I withdrew my arm. Hubbard thought about grabbing it back to his mouth. I saw the idea cross his mind as clearly as I had seen Edward Kelley contemplate clubbing me with his walking stick. But he thought better of it. I whispered another simple spell to close the wound, and turned wordlessly to leave.

“When you are next in London,” Hubbard said softly, “God will whisper it to me. And if He wills it, we shall meet again. But remember this. No matter where you go from now, even unto death, some small piece of you will live within me.”

I stopped and looked back at him. His words were menacing, but the expression on his face was thoughtful, even sad. My pace quickened as I left the church crypt, wanting to put as much distance as I could between me and Andrew Hubbard.

“Farewell, Diana Bishop,” he called after me.

I was halfway across town before I realized that no matter how little that single drop of blood might have revealed, Father Hubbard now knew my real name.

Walter and Matthew were shouting at each other when I returned to the Hart and Crown. Raleigh’s groom could hear them, too. He was in the courtyard, holding the reins of Walter’s black beast of a horse and listening to their argument through the open windows.

“It will mean my death—and hers, too! No one must know she is with child!” Oddly enough, it was Walter speaking.

“You cannot abandon the woman you love and your own child in an attempt to stay true to the queen, Walter. Elizabeth will find out that you have betrayed her, and Bess will be ruined forever.”

“What do you expect me to do? Marry her? If I do so without the queen’s permission, I’ll be arrested.”

“You’ll survive no matter what happens,” Matthew said flatly. “If you leave Bess without your protection, she will not.”

“How can you pretend concern for marital honesty after all the lies you’ve told about Diana? Some days you insisted you were married but made us swear to deny it should any strange witches or wearhs come sniffing around asking questions.” Walter’s voice dropped, but the ferocity remained. “Do you expect me to believe you’re going to return whence you came and acknowledge her as your wife?”

I slipped into the room unnoticed.

Matthew hesitated.

“I thought not,” Walter said. He was pulling on his gloves.

“Is this how you two want to say your farewells?” I asked.

“Diana,” Walter said warily.

“Hello, Walter. Your groom is downstairs with the horse.”

He started toward the door, stopped. “Be sensible, Matthew. I cannot lose all credit at court. Bess understands the dangers of the queen’s anger better than anyone. At the court of Elizabeth, fortune is fleeting, but disgrace endures forever.”

Matthew watched his friend thud down the stairs. “God forgive me. The first time I heard this plan, I told him it was wise. Poor Bess.”

“What will happen to her when we are gone?” I asked.

“Come autumn, Bess’s pregnancy will begin to show. They will marry in secret. When the queen questions their relationship, Walter will deny it. Repeatedly. Bess’s reputation will be ruined, her husband will be found out to be a liar, and they will both be arrested.”

“And the child?” I whispered.

“Will be born in March and dead the following autumn.” Matthew sat down at the table, his head in his hands. “I will write to my father and make sure that Bess receives his protection. Perhaps Susanna Norman will see to her during the pregnancy.”

“Neither your father nor Susanna can shield her from the blow of Raleigh’s denial.” I, too, had felt the stabs of doubt months before. “And will you deny that we are married when we return?”

“It’s not that simple,” Matthew said, looking at me with haunted eyes.

“That’s what Walter said. You told him he was wrong.” I remembered Goody Alsop’s prophecy. “ ‘Old worlds die, and new be born .’ The time is coming when you will have to choose between the safety of the past and the promise of the future, Matthew.”

“And the past cannot be cured, no matter how hard I try,” he said. “It’s something I’m always telling the queen when she agonizes over a bad decision. Hoist by my own petard again, as Gallowglass would be quick to point out.”

“You beat me to it, Uncle.” Gallowglass had soundlessly entered the room and was unloading parcels. “I’ve got your paper. And your pens. And some tonic for Jack’s throat.”

“That’s what he gets for spending all his time up towers with Tom, talking about the stars.” Matthew rubbed his face. “We will have to make sure Tom is provided for, Gallowglass. Walter won’t be able to keep him in service much longer. Henry Percy will need to step into the breach—again— but I should contribute something to his upkeep, too.”

“Speaking of Tom, have you seen his plans for a single-eyed spectacle to view the heavens? He and Jack are calling it a star glass.”

My scalp tingled as the threads of the room snapped with energy. Time sounded a low protest in the corners.

“A star glass.” I kept my voice even. “What does it look like, Gallowglass?”

“Ask them yourself,” Gallowglass said, turning his head toward the stairs. Jack and Mop careened into the room. Tom followed absently behind, a pair of broken spectacles in his hand.

“You will certainly leave a mark on the future if you meddle with this, Diana,” Matthew warned.

“Look, look, look.” Jack brandished a thick piece of wood. Mop followed its movements and snapped his jaws at the stick as it went by. “Master Harriot said if we hollowed this out and put a spectacle lens in the end, it would make faraway things seem near. Do you know how to carve, Master Roydon? If not, do you think the joiner in St. Dunstan’s might teach me? Are there any more buns? Master Harriot’s stomach has been growling all afternoon.”