Chapter 325: I Am Here Now

Lionel pushed Stephen’s door open that night and stepped inside. "I am here now... "What?"

Stephen sat on the edge of his bed, his hands clasped before him. "His Majesty is unwell,"

"We just arrived at Whitehall together. He seemed well enough."

"He is not."

"Speak plainly," Lionel said.

Stephen looked up. "His mind is not well. It has not been for a long time. Until recently, only the physician and I knew the full extent of it."

"You kept a secret?"

Stephen looked offended. "I assure you, I am not a gossipmonger."

"Forgive me. Your reputation for knowing everyone’s business confused me."

"That is observation, not gossip."

"Of course." Lionel’s face sobered. "Go on."

Stephen stood slowly. "His Majesty suffers episodes. Strong emotion can overwhelm him. The physician has been using calming draughts, sometimes opium vapours, to steady him."

Lionel’s jaw tightened. "And the king knows?"

"Now."

"That must have gone well." Lionel exhaled. "Does Lady Livia know?"

Stephen hesitated. Lionel read the answer in his face. He paced once, then stopped. "What does this have to do with the witchcraft rumours?"

"Her Grace cannot have her way," Stephen said. "Lady Livia is good for him. More than good. She steadies him. She brings him back from places no physician can reach."

"I am doing my best to protect her," Lionel said.

"I know."

"Then say what you want from me."

"I believe Her Grace means to use the Church through these rumours. If the word witch reaches the right clerics, they will jump."

Lionel’s mouth tightened. "There is no proof of witchcraft. Surely they need more than whispers."

Stephen gave him a grim look. "You would think so, would you not?" He crossed to the wall.

Lionel watched as he knelt near the hearth and pressed his fingers against a particular brick. It shifted under his hand. Stephen pulled it free and reached into the hollow behind it.

When he withdrew his hand, he held a rolled parchment. Stephen stared at it for a moment, and something like grief moved across his face.

"I have held on to this for years."

Lionel reached out and took the parchment. "What is this?" he asked.

"Proof, Lord Ashcroft."

Slowly, Lionel unrolled the parchment. Lionel read in silence. His eyes moved line by line. Murder, written like laundry.

Nothing in Lionel’s expression changed. That was not because the words did not horrify him. They did. He already knew what Her Grace was capable of. The Queen Mother had never been a woman of vague wickedness.

He finished reading and lowered the parchment. "You cannot do anything with this, Stephen."

Stephen’s eyes sharpened. "You have not even considered it."

"I think quickly when the matter may end with several heads separated from several bodies." Lionel glanced down at the parchment. "This casts His Majesty and the Crown of England in a dangerous light."

"It proves Her Grace murdered the princes."

"It proves the household of the present king was built over murdered princes."

"I am frightened for him. For Lady Livia. Her Grace is not finished. She is only confined. The witchcraft rumour is not idle gossip. It is a rope. She is lowering it now, thread by thread, and if we allow it to reach the Church, Lady Livia may find herself facing judgement to be burned."

Lionel rolled the parchment halfway, then stopped. Stephen was right.

"Surely we can use this," Stephen pressed. "Surely we can make Her Grace sheath her sword. If she knows we possess this, she may draw back."

Lionel looked at him. "Her Grace does not respond to threats easily."

"Then what do you suggest? We wait until Lady Livia is accused before the Archbishop?"

"I suggest we do not swing a weapon that may cut through His Majesty before it reaches his mother."

The parchment could expose Theodora, yes. But once exposed, it would drag Henry into the light too.

"This is tricky," Lionel said.

"If I tell Her Grace I have it, she will not take me seriously. She will consider it an empty threat. And she will be right. I could never do anything to hurt the king."

There was no shame in the confession. Stephen loved Henry with devotion.

Stephen finally looked up. "But you can."

"What?"

"Your allegiance has always been to the throne."

"My allegiance has changed, Stephen. I owe Lady Livia my life. It belongs to her now."

"The Queen Mother does not know that," Stephen said. "We have to help her however we can, Lionel. For the sake of His Majesty."

"And if she calls my bluff too?" Lionel asked.

Stephen swallowed. "We pray she does not."

Then another thought came to Lionel. He lifted his eyes to Stephen.

"Have you actually considered that the best person to use this information is Lady Livia?" Lionel said.

"Maybe when she becomes queen," Stephen said quietly, "and is obliged before God and England to protect her king. But not yet."

"Fine," Lionel said at last. "I shall see what I can do." He handed the parchment back. "Keep it hidden, Stephen."

"I have managed that for years." Stephen bent and slid the parchment back into the hollow behind the loosened brick. He replaced the brick, pressing it until the wall looked whole again.

Just then, a knock thundered on the door. Both men turned. Lionel’s hand went to his sword as he crossed the room and snatched the door open.

A royal guard stood outside. "Master Stephen," the man gasped. "It is the king!"

Stephen went white. "No." He was already moving before the word fully left him. The years of habit took over, carrying him towards Henry as surely as blood answered a wound. "Get the physician!" Stephen shouted as he raced into the corridor.

Lionel followed hard behind him. "I cannot believe you kept this from me."

"Not the time, Lord Ashcroft."

They ran through the corridor and burst into the king’s chamber. The room had been wrecked. A chair lay overturned. Papers had been swept from the table and scattered across the floor. A cup had shattered near the hearth, wine dark against the stone. One of the bed curtains had been half torn from its fastening.