Rating: NC-17

Summary: Jem Ellison and Blair Sands are forced to investigate a charge of witchcraft that involves an old friend of Jem's.

James Ellison stormed through the door of the inn with a face like summer thunder, his friend and lover, Blair Sands, following at his heels. "I won't do it, Sands," Jem declared.

"Not here, Jem," Blair hissed. With an apologetic grin to the startled patrons of the tavern, he quickly manhandled Jem into a back room to give them some privacy.

"I don't care what Cecil does to us, I am not going to persecute her for witchcraft!" Jem threw his gloves down onto the table as though they were the cause of all his problems.

James Ellison and Blair Sands were reluctant agents of Robert Cecil, now Earl of Salisbury, since he brokered peace with Spain, and one of the most powerful men in the country. With one word, one stroke of a quill, Cecil could destroy a man, or raise him as high as a bishop. A shrewd and cunning man, he was totally dedicated to keeping King James and the country safe from foul deeds and popish plots. He had sent for both men to attend him at his house to 'discuss some matters of concern.'

The soft thud of the tan gloves hitting the tabletop caused Jem to pause and he glanced at them lying there. He loved those gloves as much as he loved the person who gave them to him. They were made of the softest kid and probably cost much more money than Jem would ever pay for himself. Blair bought them, not on some whim as an adornment or frippery; but because he noticed how chapped and sore Jem's hands were during the bitingly cold winter. Jem carried them about his person in all weathers, touched by the thoughtfulness of the act. He didn't ask how Blair had been able to afford them - Jem was too much of a gentleman. Instead he had bought his partner a gift in return, a book full of wondrous stories, painted pictures of far away lands and strange people - and even stranger animals! He remembered how Blair had sat upon the bed, cross-legged like a tailor, engrossed in the book, laughing in disbelief at some of the more outlandish descriptions, reading sections out loud to share with Jem his amazement at the passage he'd read... and Jem fell in love with his partner all over again.

He shook himself from such thoughts. He wasn't in a mood for such tender memories. He felt too damn angry. He could still smell the cloying perfume the young dandy who had brought Cecil's summons wore. It annoyed and irritated Jem even more. He felt that he had no control over his life; that someone else was making decisions over how he should conduct himself. Pull this string and he moved this way, pull another and....

Jem realised Blair was talking and saw the anxiety on his lover's face.

"Jem, I don't like it either." Blair tried to pacify his friend. "It stinks to all high Heaven, but if you don't at least look at the evidence against your friend, then Cecil will do as he threatened and have his Italian inquisitor conduct the investigation. And this Signor Aldo will find against her because he thinks that's what Cecil and his councillors want! And that would be a persecution! We can investigate, not persecute her."

The woman they were discussing was one Frances, wife of the late Lord Fraser, himself a widower, fourteen years her senior and looking - in the event, fruitlessly - to beget an heir. He had been a man of small family, but large fortune, his tenants said. After his death, Frances had defied convention and married almost straight away to a penniless nobleman, though she kept her late husband's title and his lands.

Frances was a beautiful woman, with fair skin, tall, slim - but well fashioned with auburn hair and lapis-blue eyes that you could lose yourself in. Unlike many women, she was well languaged in Latin, Greek and Hebrew. She could hold her own in any company and knew how to flatter and fawn around her new husband's acquaintances. She emitted an air of vulnerability and sensuality that most men seemed to find very alluring. Indeed, she had a genius for charming the folk around her, or so Robert Cecil had informed them.

However, there were vicious rumours of sorcery being bandied about. There was gossip that she caused her late husband to be impotent, and even to have caused his death. If these tales had any truth in them, Frances would be tried and, likely found guilty of witchcraft. Then, at the very least, she would end her days in gaol, having to rely on the sympathy of friends to bring her food and comfort. The fact was that some of these friends were very influential. The allegations made against her could lead to serious repercussions if the case were proved. There were laws against consorting with known witches. At best, it would cause a great deal of embarrassment in high places. At worst, Frances would burn.

Witchcraft was a sensitive subject for the country's politicians. It ranked up there with popish plots as something to be feared. Everyone knew that witches could and did influence people and animals in some strange devilish way. But it was better to suggest that the persons involved were feebleminded and easily influenced than to say these people had real powers. In these enlightened times, the more high profile cases were investigated before a trial.

For Jem, with his powerful senses, it was an even more delicate subject. He lived with the fear that someone would find out about his talents, and he would be sent to the gallows or, worse, burned alive at the stake.

Jem remembered the scene in his and Blair's bedchamber a few weeks ago. It had all started out so well....

"... so with the king on his royal progress..."

"Making sure to visit only the noblemen with decent hunting lodges," Jem interjected, "for hare-coursing and hart-chasing."

"... and the Court out of London, due to the wet summer weather we've had and the Thames flooding..." Blair ignored his lover's comments... "thereby taking our wealthy patrons with it, Master Shakespeare has decided the King's Men should do a short tour of the countryside!"

Blair was positively bouncing on their bed. Jem felt himself smile broadly.

"But the best part, Jem," Blair continued, "is that he's convinced our backers that we should have a swordsman to protect the troupe from any village folk angry at being fleeced by cozeners who masqueraded as legitimate players."

"Me?" Jem hazarded a guess.

Blair grinned. "Who better? With your unique abilities, you can guard us like no other. And Cecil doesn't have any assignments for you at the moment, does he?"

"Well, he did have something. He wanted me to investigate a charge of witchcraft."

Blair went very pale. "And what did you tell him?"

"I didn't give Cecil a chance to give me any details; I just explained to him that this was a form of assignment I couldn't, with a good heart, execute." Jem lay back on the bed, one arm behind his head. With his other hand, he stroked his neatly trimmed beard, an action that his lover normally found very 'stimulating'. Jem had his shirt undone at the top, exposing a glimpse of his chest. He had removed his sword belt and boots, hoping to tempt Blair into helping him remove the rest of his clothes, but, unfortunately, Blair's thoughts were now elsewhere.

"You told Robert Cecil that you weren't going to do his bidding? Are you insane? Jem, he could have you thrown in the Tower! He could have you hanged and drawn! There could be bits of you sent around the country! What were you thinking?" Blair started pacing the room, his hands and hair flying, physically expressing his anxiety.

Jem, at once, came off the bed to grab hold of his lover's shoulders, turning Blair towards him. "It's fine, Sands. Do you really think that I wouldn't be a bit more diplomatic than that?" Jem paused, frowning. "Though I did think my lord Salisbury was surprisingly easy to convince. He finally said that he might have miscalculated, that perhaps I was the wrong person for this case... and that was when he mentioned the tour the King's Men were taking."

There was a short pause as Blair digested Jem's words. "You knew and you didn't say anything?" Blair glared at his lover and Jem's face flushed, his hands dropping away.

"I thought you wanted to break the news to me in your own good way." Jem quickly changed the subject before Blair could delve further away from the carnal thoughts Jem hoped to inspire. "So if our good lord sheriff Rafe allows me a brief holiday from his employ, I am at your disposal."

Blair's eyes widened in delight and he took hold of Jem's head with both hands and kissed his lips quickly and sloppily. "That is excellent news!" he said, as he pulled back.

Jem laughed. "I thought so too." He returned to his place on the bed. "You haven't heard the best part yet, Professor. It seems the king has a wish to see Master Shakespeare's work in private, and will attend a performance at his favourite hunting lodge, in Royston." He held out his hand to Blair. "And then he will honor us for our recent successes. It won't be with a grand title or anything such the like, Cecil wouldn't sanction such a thing, but you and I are to receive a small gift from his majesty's own hands."

"A performance in the king's honor?" Blair latched onto that part of Jem's speech and took his lover's hand, climbing up onto the bed and shifting until he could lie stretched out with his chin on Jem's chest, using Jem's body as his mattress. "I wonder what Master Shakespeare will prepare to entertain the king? I know he used to stage productions for the queen regularly. King James is not so fond of plays as she. And a gift you say... a piece of jewellery perhaps? A brooch to pin to your cape, or a collar of gold..." He laced his fingers with Jem's. "Or a ring, your fingers would look even more elegant with a ring or two." He lifted Jem's hand up to study it and Jem curled his fingers around Blair's hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss the back.

"I should like to place a ring on your finger or perhaps some piece of fine jewellery on your body," Jem said. "Something that proclaimed you mine."

"Feeling possessive, Master Ellison?" Blair asked, his eyes twinkling.

Jem fidgeted, uncomfortable with Blair's usual acuteness. "Does that not bother you? I don't mean to claim you as my chattel, Blair..."

Blair put a finger on Jem's lips and straddled his lover's body. "Shhh, Jem. At the risk of sounding somewhat romantic, you do own my heart." He smirked. "And as you've ruined me for any other lover, you could be said to own my body as well."

Jem stroked his hands over Blair's back. "It is a very fine body," he teased, then became serious. "You captured my heart too, Blair."

"'Tis well then for both of us." Blair eased his body back down against Jem's and kissed him until they were both breathless.

Jem's lips tingled at the memory.

There hadn't been a good deal of kissing since they set out; the constraints of travelling with the company meant that they had to keep up the pretence of being just good friends, or risk being pilloried. Nevertheless, there had been some sweet stolen moments, like when Blair joined him late at night when the rest of the troupe were asleep or preoccupied, and passion claimed them both.

For most of their progress around the countryside, the more prestigious members of the acting troupe travelled on horseback, sometimes keeping alongside the lumbering stage wagon that contained the costumes, props and sundries the company needed for their performances, other times galloping on ahead to secure lodgings and to advertise their forthcoming productions. Blair, Simon and a few others stayed with the wagon, while Jem either rode upon the gelding he'd hired, or walked beside Blair.

The road they had travelled was old - said to be one of those created by the Romans so long ago. Certainly, the inns they stopped at were full of tales of ghostly soldiers or headless riders. Blair revelled in each gruesome tale - the bloodier the better, Jem noted with a wry grin, as his lover wheedled another story from their amiable landlord. This one concerned a cave at Royston, carved out of the solid rock by the Templar Knights. "Bell shaped it is, sir, deep enough for you to have to use a ladder to get in and out. They do say the knights would be lowered in there to contemplate their dedication to the service of God. 'Tis a strange place, and holy, with carvings on the walls and a special shelf for kneeling on. They say that strange rituals were done in there, such as only the righteous could behold. 'Tis covered up now, but for a small amount, you may find someone willing to let you down."

"Probably his cousin," whispered Jem to his friend, "out to supplement the family wages." Blair elbowed him in the ribs but he couldn't quite hide his grin.

The one ugly stain on the journey was the way the county folk viewed their friends, Simon, Joseph and Henri. All three had dark skins, due on Joseph's part to his gypsy mother. In London, people had grown somewhat used to the actors, but here they were viewed with suspicion and mistrust as few, if any, had ever seen such dark skinned men before. Some of the children asked if the skin color would rub off as though it were make-up.

Simon had known there could be trouble and had wanted to suggest to Master Shakespeare that the three of them be left behind; however, one look at the faces of his friends over not being able to perform for the king, and he changed his mind.

Believing in safety in numbers, he kept his friends close as much as possible. For the most part, that wasn't a problem; the innkeepers inevitably placed the three men together somewhere apart from the wealthier customers. It didn't stop some of the more brazen wenches from trying to become too familiar with the men and Jem and Simon had had to step in when some of the local men took exception to their women's obvious interest, to stop things getting out of hand.

Henri noted after one such altercation that it was torture worse than the rack having such ripe fruit ready to fall into his lap, and having to walk away.

Joseph reminded him what had happened to Adam when he tasted forbidden fruit, and Simon said that the masters of said fruit would do more than evict Henri from Paradise for taking a bite!

It was an uncomfortable situation, but the whole troupe had closed ranks and added their support to the three men.

And then Jem had run into Allen Archer - almost literally 'ran into'.

A small hart had run across the road in the path of the actors' wagon and after it had come the hunt. Jem's horse had shied and he had had the Devil's own task of quieting the beast. Blair had leapt down from the wagon and gone to help him, just as one of the huntsmen did the same, calming his own mount. The hunt didn't pause in its pursuit, just followed its prey into the forest. Only an older retainer hung back, studiously staying with his master.

"You horse's arse! Just what do you think you were doing, driving that stag onto the road!" Jem knew he was overstepping his rank and privileges; indeed, he could be horsewhipped for his words, but sometimes his tongue got the better of him. Blair opened his mouth to play the peacemaker when the huntsman turned from his horse and Jem exclaimed, "Allen!"

The hunter laughed with delight. "Why, Jamie Ellison! You old varlet! What are you doing in these parts?"

Blair's mouth snapped shut.

The huntsman was a little younger than Jem; his hair was so far untouched with grey. Fair looking, but not distractingly so, he wore well-cut dark-plum colored hunting clothes. However, his eyes, his eyes were shrewd and they took the measure of a man.

"I might ask of you the same thing!" Jem said, a pleased grin on his face.

"This road boarders my spouse's land."

Blair stepped forward; still holding on to the rein of Jem's horse, but unable to curtail his inquisitiveness. "Unless my brain's addled, you two have met before."

Jem smiled. "Blair Sands, of the King's Men players, meet Allen Archer. I owe him my life."

Allen shook his head and chuckled. "You owe me nothing. I was in the right place at the right time."

Jem turned to Blair. "I was roped in as part of the honor guard for the mayor's daughter's betrothal. We were attacked by brigands on the way to her fiancé's home."

Allen picked up the tale. "I was out hunting with my brothers when I heard a maid scream and spotted this brave fool defending her with his meat knife."

"It was all I had on me at the time," Jem explained.

"So I took up my crossbow and with pure luck..."

"And a good deal of skill," Jem added.

"... shot a bolt through the shoulder of the villain." Allen frowned. "But as I remember it, he'd already pierced you with his sword?"

Blair's eyes widened. He'd seen such a scar on Jem's shoulder.

Jem dismissed the injury. "T'was but a flesh wound."

"Which had you being nursed by that same sweet maid!"

Jem laughed. "And left you green in the face! So you're married? When did that happen?"

"When the last of my older brothers died leaving me with a host of debts and no means to cover them. It was either marriage to a wealthy woman or be reduced to filthy linen and bread and cheese, when you know my fancy is for partridge and pheasant. I was lucky, that same 'sweet maid' had been left recently widowed and we were wed."

Jem became still. "You married Frances?"

"You didn't know?" Allen asked.

"No. I've moved into London this last year as an under-sheriff and, with the recent pestilence, news doesn't travel as easily."

Jem was aware of Blair gaping at his stretching of the truth. Small noises behind them also alerted him that Simon was climbing down from the wagon and the other members of the troupe were getting restless. Blair moved back, still keeping a watchful eye on Jem, to reassure them.

"Under-sheriff? But I see you are now with this wagon?" Allen was saying.

"I was commissioned to escort the King's Men to Royston for a command performance."

Allen Archer remounted his horse. "Indeed? Well, in that case, no doubt we will see you again. We are part of the party that waits on the king." His horse reared up and he galloped away, his manservant following on his own mount, taking care not to lose sight of his master.

As Simon returned to his seat, curiosity on his face, Jem tied his horse to the back of the wagon and walked around to the front to where Blair was waiting.

Taking the lead horse's rein, Blair began to walk, leading the wagon. "So you haven't seen Allen for a good many years?"

Jem smiled at his lover's unsubtle curiosity. "No. I heard he'd inherited the title, but no more."

"Nor Frances?"

"Not since she was about to be married to a man many years her senior."

"So... this second marriage, she's married below her present station?"

"So it would appear."

"Was she beautiful? Did you fall for her?"

"She was terrified that she wouldn't please her husband."

"That's not what I asked."

"She was but a child-woman. Pretty perhaps, but not what I'd term beautiful." Jem decided he had teased his lover enough. "Not like one who now shares my bed and my heart."

Blair relaxed and chuckled. "Very smooth, Master Ellison, such very smooth and pretty talk. As Master Shakespeare might remind you, beauty is in the eye of the beholder."

"Ah, but then he has never beheld you naked and aroused."

"Heaven forbid he ever shall!"

Blair's face showed his horror at the thought and Jem laughed. The two men continued walking along the pretty lane, both lost in their own thoughts, down into the village of Royston.

Royston was a large village with all the trappings of a royal estate. King James had visited the place on his journey south to claim his cousin's crown, and had a hunting lodge - called 'the palace' by the locals - built. Noblemen from the court had their own smaller houses nestling nearby, all jostling to be near the king, like covetous cygnets around the swan although these 'cygnets' were anything but soft and fluffy.

Such memories and impressions flashed by as Jem stared at the gloves on the table. He jumped when he felt Blair's hand on his arm and realised he'd stood still for so long that his friend thought he'd slipped into one of his dazes.

He cleared his throat. "How do we do carry out such an investigation, Professor?" He snapped at Blair, more in frustration than anger.

Blair's hand dropped away. "We talk to her accusers. Check the times and dates, and match them to events, just as we would any other investigation."

"With witchcraft, there won't be any physical evidence. So just how can we disprove that which is hear-say and superstition?"

Blair was rapidly losing his temper over his lover's ill grace. "I don't know, Jem. I'm sure Raimondo Aldo, with his 'special' investigating tools and his knowledge of human anatomy could find some 'Devil's mark' on the lovely Frances."

Jem looked disgusted. "Do you really believe in that nonsense? That she could have a third nipple where her incubus sucks blood or where the Devil copulates with her?"

"No, of course I don't! However, fear of the unknown is a basic instinct. Strange marks, odd occurrences, unexplained illness or deaths, all bring that fear to the fore. We may live in enlightened times in many ways, but the same fears apply. Anyway, it doesn't matter what I believe, Jem. It's what those who will judge her want to believe and it is they we have to convince that Frances is more fair than foul." He paused. "At least now we know why Cecil was so easily persuaded you were unsuitable for this investigation."

"Yes, the sly old bastard!" Jem let out a puff of breath. "He had this all planned out. He knew that if I refused in London, I couldn't refuse once here." He couldn't keep a slight touch of admiration out of his voice.

"Exactly, Master James. Once here he knew you couldn't turn down the chance to help clear your old friend's wife of such untruths. So how shall we proceed?"

"We... talk to her accusers. Check the times and dates, just as we would any other assignments," Jem replied with a smile twitching at the edges of his mouth.

Blair tried not to grin. "I knew you'd have a good plan."

Jem chuckled and pulled his friend close to ruffle his hair.

"Hey! Not the hair, you fen-sucked knave!" Blair squirmed out of his lover's hold and moved to put the table between them.

"Fen-sucked? I'll give you fen-sucked knave, you pribbling, impertinent wretch!" Jem's eyes were twinkling as he started to circle around the table.

Blair slid away again, keeping his distance. "You foul villain! How dare you, you..." Blair was well into the spirit of this game of one-upmanship, and he wasn't going to be beaten. "You belubbering base-court, boil-brained, bum-bailey!"

Jem's mouth opened and snapped close. He stood still trying to think of a good comeback. Finally, he bowed. "I yield to a master word-smith. You win." He went to sit on one of the benches against the wall, his feet stretched out in front of him, looking totally unabashed and relaxed.

Blair's eyes narrowed. "You don't want to parley for terms?" He stalked closer to Jem, finally getting close enough to touch.

"I am at your mercy. What do you desire?" Jem looked up into his lover's face.

Blair straddled Jem's legs and looked down into his lover's eyes. His hands stroked over Jem's short hair, fingers caressing the curve of his ears. "An end to misery and suffering," Blair began. "A feather bed and nubile ladies to wait on me. You naked and at liberty whensoever I want..." he grinned. "But I will settle for a kiss."

Jem's hands were roaming over Blair's thighs and buttocks. "Seems a small request for such talent, but you shall have that." He pulled Blair closer still and Blair bent his head so their lips met.

"Always so sweet, my love," Blair whispered breathless moments later against Jem's lips. He rubbed his cheek against Jem's short beard as if he were a cat, not caring if his skin should show evidence of a beard burn.

"Aye, and if we were at home in London, it would not end here." Jem nuzzled Blair's ear. "But later, my own one, when our friends have gone to their beds, I promise you shall not have to 'settle' for anything." He ran a hand possessively over Blair's covered groin and gave a gentle squeeze to the hard column hidden within.

Blair groaned deeply and rocked into Jem's hand once before he steadied his shaky legs. "You are a tease, sir. But...." he sighed, "you are right. This must wait." He took a deep breath and willed his rampant erection away. "What say you we take a seat with the others and break our fast? We can listen to the local scandal and see who the accusers are and what they have to gain."

The two men joined their friends and Simon shifted along the wooden bench to make room for them to sit down. He looked at them with a concerned frown. "Everything well?" he asked.

Blair smiled. "Nothing we can't handle." He took a piece of bread from Simon's bowl and began to chew. Simon glared at him.

"We'll explain later, Simon," Jem added, slapping Blair's hand away as he reached for another piece.

For a moment, it looked as though their friend was going to press the issue. Luckily, the door opened and Master Shakespeare strode in, wiping the sweat from his receding hairline with a kerchief, distracting Simon from saying anything.

"Ah, good. I had hoped to catch you all together, gentlemen." The playwright stepped over to the table and sat down, ordering a tankard of ale from the serving wench as he did. "The courtyard our fine host has offered for our use seems most suitable. We have room for a small stage and can limit our non-paying audience. It seems our performance in the outlying towns has paid off and the word about us is all good. We should have a large crowd." He paused as the wench leaned over to put his ale on the table, her ample bosom almost in his face.

"However, our command performance must be delayed a day or two," he continued, as she moved away. "Lord Hay's Master of Fire somehow allowed his gun powder to get wet during that recent storm and the fireworks he had arranged have had to be dried off rather than set off!"

The men laughed as he took a long swig of his drink.

"My Lord Hay doesn't want to be upstaged by us, so our show is also put off."

Young Robin enquired, "What shall we do for our royal audience, Master Shakespeare?"

Shakespeare wiped the froth from his bearded chin. "I'm thinking some short scene, as I don't want our royal audience growing weary of us. I thought one from 'The Merchant of Venice', but maybe I shall save that for London. No, this time I think a short scene from my as yet unfinished 'Macbeth' shall suffice, and, Blair, I want you to play Lady Macbeth."

Blair looked up with a delighted grin on his face. "T'would be my honor, Master Shakespeare."

"Don't you think Mr. Sands is getting a little old to be believable, Master?" Robin asked, purposely not looking at Blair.

Blair's face, nevertheless, fell.

"Robin," began Shakespeare, "the role of Lady Macbeth is one that requires a lot of stamina and experience. Mr. Sands has both of those. Perhaps in a year or so, you will be able to take over. For now be content with Titania or Viola." The young man looked suitably chastened and Shakespeare relented. "You can understudy Blair and once we return to London, we will talk again. For these rural folk we shall continue with our usual programme."

Jem leaned towards Blair. "Too old?" he whispered. "Do you want me to get your walking stick to hit him with?"

Blair glared at Jem and then shrugged. "The plain truth is I am lucky to get the parts I do. So many young men either fled the plague in London the year before I joined, or died from it," he replied, just as quietly. "'Tis only now that we have fresh talent, such as it is," he directed a glance at Robin, "joining our group."

Shakespeare was still talking. "I will hand your scripts out when we are done with our food. The Master of Revels has to see our rehearsals before we can perform before the king, so you'd best be at your best." The playwright stood and beckoned Jem as he moved away from the table. "First, Master Ellison, if you please, a word."

"What now?" Jem whispered again as he rose from the bench.

Shakespeare took Jem's arm and steered him into a corner. "A little bird told me that you visited my Lord Salisbury's lodging in the village this morning. No trouble, I hope?"

"No. No sir." Jem had to think on his feet. "Mistress Howard sent for Sands. It seems the king likes a certain... look and my lady wanted to interview Blair. He was nervous and asked me to accompany him."

"Indeed?" Shakespeare's eyebrows raised and he looked across at Blair. "I know the king has certain, shall we say, 'fancies' and I have heard that my Lord Salisbury's mistress helps provide them.... T'would be a shame that a young man's honor should be compromised on the whim of a prince. It would also be a pity to lose a promising actor to the Court as a royal bed warmer, but," he sighed, "sua cuique voluptas - 'every man to his taste'. Many a young man has made his fortune by having shapely calves and a willing smile, James. It is important to know the right people and to know their likes and dislikes, to understand the 'popular breeze' as my Latin master would say." He glanced back at the table where the actors were sitting - studiously avoiding looking at the two men - but Blair was watching intently, a frown on his face.

Jem looked across and cringed inwardly. Blair would want to know what they were discussing and there would likely be Hell to pay when he found out.

"One more thing, James." Shakespeare brought his attention back. "I do feel you should shadow Blair all the more now. I have seen the way Simon watches him."

"Simon?" Jem couldn't hide his surprise.

"Yes. Simon seems very fond of our 'Lady Macbeth', have you not noticed? I don't want Simon's work to suffer ere we lose Blair to the court. If he believes Blair's interests lie with you, t'would be easier for him, methinks, for him to let Blair go."

When Jem told Simon and Blair about the conversation, Simon burst out laughing and Blair looked horrified.

"You told Shakespeare that the king, that I... Jem, why... how could you put such ideas into the man's head?"

"It was all I could think of," Jem said.

Simon wiped his eyes. "Well, Blair, it's better than me acting the jilted swain! And think how it would improve your career!" He started laughing again.

Blair rounded on his friend. "Very funny, Simon."

Simon took a breath and wiped his eyes. "At least it will give you a reason to visit Cecil again. I must admit," he mused, now sober, "I don't like the idea of you doing this type of work, it leaves a bad taste in my mouth, but we are in his employ, and by hook or by crook, he will get his way. Matthew Rafe could tell you that. If you need my help, let me know."

"Thanks, Simon." Jem smiled tightly. "Did you hear anything before we came into the room about these allegations? Any clues as to the why?"

Simon was shaking his head. "These people are pretty close-mouthed in front of strangers. Let them relax and get some ale inside them, then they might be more loose tongued." He stood. "I'd best be off to help with the setting up of the stage in the yard. You too, Blair. It will look odd if you do not lend a hand."

"I will see if I can find any maids that might be more accommodating. See if I can charm any into being a little more 'convivial'." Jem smirked.

He didn't miss the fire that burned briefly in Blair's eyes before being quickly hidden in deference to Simon. "Just remember, Jem, you are supposed to be guarding a troupe of actors, not a suitor out a-wooing. Take care they are not too accommodating! And for God's sake, watch your back."

Jem smiled. "I will be careful, Sands. Trust me."

"Scary words, Jem." Blair replied, though he smiled in return. What need I of my lord Hay's fireworks, when you direct that smile my way?

Jem wandered around the outside walls of the larger houses, looking as though he was just out for a walk, but all the while on alert. He admitted to feeling a little out of his depth. Cecil had given them the very barest of information, preferring to see what the men could uncover for themselves. Jem and Blair would have to find out who was making these allegations and why. Cecil did give them one name, Henry Lovejoy, but just where to find this Lovejoy and just what his connection was with Frances, his lordship elected not to tell Jem.

Jem heard the sound of a woman humming a pleasing tune, one he'd not heard for a while, and he followed the sound to a high wall. He put one foot on a small tree stump and, grunting, pulled himself up to see over the top.

There was a pretty garden beyond the wall. Roses vied with honeysuckle along a south-facing trellis. Their scent joined with that of rosemary, lavender, thyme and sage and hung heavy in the sultry air. Jem's nose started to twitch. A violent sneeze made him lose his balance and he fell, sprawling, onto the ground. "Damn!"

There were sounds of scrabbling and rustling, then a head looked over the wall. "You know, there is a garden gate," an amused voice noted. It was Lady Fraser.

Blair couldn't put his finger on the reason for his growing unease. Both he and Jem flirted with women; it didn't mean anything. Flirting was part of life. Women expected it. And by the act of flirting, they concealed the truth about their relationship from those who could cause trouble. And yet he felt... twitchy.

His coordination broke and a piece of stage set slipped out of his hands, narrowly missing Henri.
"Ho! Blair! What do you think you are playing at?" Henri hopped around, rubbing his foot which the staging just missed by a toenail.

"My pardon, Henri. I am all fingers and thumbs today. Probably 'tis just nerves. Perhaps a stiff drink will help." Blair edged away with everyone staring. He half ran out of the yard, and out to the road where he slowed down and tried to walk off his undefined anxiety.

He found himself at the stable of one of the houses. There was nobody about and he wandered into the main house through the kitchen door, thinking it strange that no one had challenged him though he could hear sounds of activity. Once inside, he began to realise it was far too grand to be anything other than one of the richer nobleman's lodgings and he really should not be there. Still something drew him up to the second floor wood panelled gallery.

Frances lead Jem into the garden. Thankfully, he had managed to control his sneezing to a degree where he could enjoy the fragrances without them overwhelming him.

Frances stopped by a beautiful full-blown deep crimson rose that complemented the silk and satin of her expensive gown. She delicately cupped the flower in her hands. "Did you know," she began, stroking one petal with the tips of her long fingers, "when someone dies, you have to tell the bees or they will leave the hive that they had made their home and you lose the honey."

Jem looked to where a bee, lazy with pollen, crawled out from the centre of the rose and perched on Frances' finger for a moment. "I thought that was just an old wives' tale," he said, quietly.

Frances gently blew on the bee that buzzed once and then took to the wing, all without stinging her. "Oh no, it's true." She laughed and turned to Jem. "It was an old wife who told me!"

Her laughter was like gentle music and Jem found himself enchanted by the sound. Still, he was serious. "What has been happening here, my lady? Your husband seemed tense when I met him on the road."

Frances turned away. "Allen's in trouble. I don't know what is wrong, but someone is causing discord for us. When I press Allen to tell me, he dismisses me, tells me I have an overactive imagination, but I'm sure someone has been watching this house." She turned back towards Jem, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Have you heard anyone say anything, spreading rumours about you? Is that why you are nervous?" Jem asked.

"No..." she put her hand to her mouth, her eyes widened in fear. "Oh God, Jamie, have you heard something? You must tell me." She grabbed his arm and Jem put his hand over hers.

"The people here are wary of strangers," he said with a reassuring smile, not willing to upset her with the whole truth. "They don't like to be seen to spread gossip." He paused. "Allen's man-servant seems very conscientious. Has he seen anything?"

"No, at least he hasn't approached me. He is Allen's concern and Allen does not talk to me. Maybe he will talk to you?" She looked so trusting, so vulnerable; Jem didn't want to fail her.

"I'll see what I can find out. Just try to be calm. Make sure your servants lock and bar your windows and doors at night. I'll...uh, I'll send you word if I discover anything."

She stroked Jem's face as she had the rose. "I remember you were always calmer than Allen. I always felt safe with you." She kissed him gently. "I'm so emotional."

Jem took her hand and caressed her fingers with his own. A band on her finger caused him to look down, and he rubbed his own finger over the bejewelled ring she wore, allowing his sense of touch to experience its uneven surface. It reminded him of his desire to give Blair such a ring. He pulled slowly away, not wanting to offend Frances, but finding her charm broken.

Blair stood against the gallery window in the full warmth of the sun and felt an icy chill run through him, as though someone walked over his grave.

"She's bewitching, isn't she?"

Blair jumped in shock as Robert Cecil's voice came so close to his ear. He wasn't aware that the man could move that quietly.

"The lady Frances, I gave her permission to walk in my garden. She says she fears to walk alone in her own," Cecil said, by way of explanation. "Your James seems quite captivated by her."

"He's questioning her, my lord, as part of the investigation." Blair hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.

Cecil moved even closer to look over Blair's shoulder. "Indeed."

Blair stepped to one side.

"Let us hope that he does not find her answers as pleasing as he seems to find the lady."

With that, Cecil turned and strolled away along the corridor and Blair turned back to the window... to see Jem standing alone in the garden, looking up towards that very window. Blair wondered if Jem's sharp ears had picked up the exchange between him and Cecil. Just then, a red-faced manservant ran up and ushered Blair away and out of the house, berating the other servants they encountered for allowing a strange man inside without an escort. Blair looked around to see if Jem was anywhere in sight, but there was no sign of his lover.

Blair began to walk slowly back to the inn, his mind and heart in turmoil over what he had seen.

By the time he arrived back, the other actors were getting ready for their performance in front of ebullient audience and Blair was quickly ushered into his costume, for once playing a male role, as Valentine in a scene from 'Two Gentlemen of Verona'. It was a popular play and one that Blair knew well. He'd studied all the parts, but as with all the players, any lines he forgot, he improvised.

Torches were being lit as the players took their bows, and a young well-attired servant approached Blair as he removed his makeup. "Begging your pardon, sir, my lady wishes to see you, in private." He pointed up to one of the room with a window over looking the yard, where a shadowy figure stood watching.

"Do I know her ladyship?" Blair asked, wondering if it might be Lady Fraser.

"I am not to tell you her name, sir, only that it would be in your interest to visit with her."

Blair, curious and apprehensive, followed the servant up the back stairs and along the balcony to the room. Only one candle burned inside, leaving it dark and secretive. The servant closed the door as he left.

"Mr. Sands, thank you for coming. I did enjoy your performance. I hear you are a man with many talents." The woman was dressed in dark silks with a white lace collar that did as much to emphasise her bosom as cover it. Blair knew now that it couldn't be Frances, but still had no idea of her identity.

He bowed. "You are too generous, my lady. Would it be presumptuous of me to ask you to be a little more and reveal to whom I owe such praise?"

"For shame, sir! I thought you already knew me." She lifted her veil with fine boned fingers. "I understand you paid me a visit earlier with your friend, Master Ellison."

Blair now noticed the two brooches that sat on either side of her collar. The one on her right was a glittering jewelled 'C'; the one on her left shoulder was an 'H'. He blushed as he realised who she must be and to what 'visit' she referred. "Do I have the honor of addressing Lady Catherine Howard?" he asked, with a sense of foreboding.

She bowed her head once. "You do indeed, sir. My Robert said you were a bright young man. He and I have one thing in common. We both work to ensure that the king is... contented. He is a man who works hard for the country, but every so often he must take his ease."

"As in hunting," Blair suggested, more in hope than anything else. He had a horrible feeling that Jem's obfuscation was going to come back and bite them.

"Yes.... Hunting is one relaxation the king enjoys." She pinned Blair with her gaze. "He also enjoys being surrounded by pretty young men. He was here this afternoon to watch your performance. It pleased him a good deal."

Blair swallowed. "I am honored his majesty took pleasure in my work." Tread carefully, Blair, he thought.

"Let us be blunt. The king likes what he sees and has expressed a wish to see more."

"Blunt, ah yes, mistress." Blair drew himself up straight. "We are no longer talking about my play-acting here."

Mistress Howard looked down and smoothed the creases of her dress with her hand. "It could be said that it can be a form of play-acting. It could also be said that you, sir, are not a stranger to such a part."

Blair lost his temper. "Madam, you go too far!"

She stood, her eyes blazing. "It is in your hands, sir, to improve your circumstances. His majesty likes to kiss and woo. He rewards those who please him. You would do well to remember that." She swept past him but paused with her hand on the door. "If you mention this conversation to anyone, I shall, of course, deny it all, and that will go hard for you and yours. I will see you again."

As he heard the door close on her rustling skirt, Blair swore. This was one complication he really didn't need!

He found Jem in the stables. From the start of their travels, the two men had chosen to sleep in the wagon away from prying eyes whenever possible. For Jem it was a relief to sleep with Blair and not the sweaty, flea-ridden travellers he would usually have to share a room with in such hostelries. He made it known to the actors that, as their guard, his duty was to protect the troupe's props and such the like. If anyone asked, Blair would simply said he would keep Jem company a while. And if anyone thought the arrangement suspicious, they didn't say anything.

Jem was getting some blankets ready as Blair joined him.

"Did you learn anything from the maids?" Blair asked.

Jem climbed in and started to clear a space in the wagon. "Nothing, save that the man we need to talk to is the old retainer we saw with Allen on the road."

"That was Lovejoy?"

"Yes. Henri met him in the snug here at the inn. This Lovejoy claims he was a servant of Allen's father and that he is committed to keeping the son safe."

"And you don't believe him?"

"I'm not sure."

Blair watched as his lover laid the blankets down and straightened them. "What about Frances? Did you learn anything from her?" He was relived to see Jem make enough room for them both to lie together.

"No. Oh, one thing..." Jem chuckled softly, "that some old wives tales are true."

Blair frowned but didn't push Jem to explain.

"What did Cecil want with you?" Jem stripped down to his shirt.

Blair carefully schooled his expression. "Nothing," he replied, as he copied Jem and was soon undressed.

"And Mistress Howard? Did she want nothing also?"

"You heard?" Blair climbed in beside his lover.

"When I didn't see you with the others, I pushed out my hearing."

"Then why ask me?"

Jem shrugged.

They lay down on the blankets and Blair blew out the lantern that hung above. When he turned over, Jem had turned away from him.

Blair sighed. Stubborn, prideful man! he thought. Why must it always be me who bends first? Because, he answered his own question, Jem keeps his thoughts inside where they nag and gnaw away at him. Whereas you, Blair Sands, would open up all the doors and let the ill humours dissipate. "Is there someone nearby that we can not even share a goodnight kiss?" he enquired, quietly.

Jem sighed and the stiffness at once left his body. He turned to face Blair and his hand went straight to his lover's hair, stroking it away from Blair's face. "None near." He paused. "I just have a lot on my mind." Jem's voice was soft and tender. He leant forward to brush Blair's lips in a kiss.

"We've both had distractions today." Blair's voice was equally as gentle.

"Does the king wish you to distract him?"

Blair's eyes lowered and he heaved a sigh. "Mistress Howard seems to think so." He turned to lie on his back. "I am not so power hungry that I would take a roll in his bed and I can't believe he would be so ill-advised to make the two-backed beast with an impoverished actor." He looked again at Jem. "How did you know that he might? When you told Master Shakespeare that tale, I thought you had taken a flight of fancy."

Jem rolled on his back to stare at the canvas, copying Blair's posture. "The idea came into my head. You just seem to fit the form the king finds appealing. In truth I hoped I was mistaken."

"The form the king finds appealing? What form is that?" Blair turned over to look at Jem, resting his head on his bent arm.

Jem studied him. "Strong shouldered, modest, well compacted, comely featured and handsome, young, intelligent..."

Blair snorted. "I thank you for that, but some of the noble lords I have seen here do not fit the intelligent comment. And as the bright young Robin noted, I am not so young."

Jem smiled. "Young enough. I have to agree though, that perhaps some of these gentlemen have a less than scholarly mind, more one suited to the understanding of horses and dogs! But physically, you are of a pattern."

"A pattern that fits you, Jem, just as your form fits me. I want no other."

"Blair.... What if the king does desire you? "

Blair didn't have a ready answer to that. It would be foolish and dangerous to refuse a formal request from the king - and he was no fool - but he had no desire to go to the king's bed.

"Jem, you once said to me that we do not hold the future, only the here and now. And now, let me hold you." He wrapped his arms around his lover and rolled them both over so he was on top. "Are you mine, Jem Ellison?"

Jem smiled tenderly, his hand again going to Blair's hair. "Only yours, Blair Sands."

"Then do you remember the vow you made me this morning?"

Jem looked over Blair's head at the inside of the wagon. "It would be a tight fit for that kind of love-making."

Blair sniggered and Jem groaned as he realised just what he'd said. "Must you read two meanings into everything?" he groused more because it was expected.

Blair pouted. "For shame, Jem! I only see double meanings because I lust for you. And tell me the truth; would you have me any other way?"

A grin danced around the corners of Jem's mouth. "Sands, I would have you every way I possibly can," he leered.

Blair groaned into Jem's shoulder. "See? It is catching." He looked up again, his eyes twinkling. "Now move up a little and see what else I can catch." He gave Jem some room to move and, as Jem shifted into a better position, Blair reached across for his pack and the small stopped jar that he'd placed near the top so that he could easily gain access to it. "I must find an apothecary soon for more of this oil."

He pulled the wax stopper out with his teeth and poured out a little into his palm, quickly pressing the plug back in. Then he reached for Jem's cock. "See how friendly your pretty cock is. It leaps and fills in my hands as I pet it."

"Please, keep on petting it," Jem begged, breathlessly.

"Wait a moment, Jem. I have one that demands my attention too."

Jem moaned as his lover wriggled against him, so that Blair could take both their members in his silky grip.

"Oh yes," Jem sighed happily, "let me bid him welcome." His hand closed over Blair's tightening the grip and setting a slow rhythm.

"Oh... Jem. That is..." Blair shivered, his hold faltering, allowing Jem to take over. "Very good indeed. You play my pipe so well. You seem to know all my stops."

"Blair?"

"Hmm?"

"Be quiet." Jem pulled his lover closer with his free hand and kissed him, licking his tongue over Blair's lips and, as Blair opened to him, exploring that mouth and stopping the words very effectively.

The kiss travelled right through Blair's body and curled his toes. He broke away with a gasp and buried his head against Jem's shoulder, clutching Jem's arms hard enough to leave finger marks. His body hovered on the brink, but he needed something extra to push him over the edge.

"Come for me, my love," Jem whispered breathlessly into Blair's ear. "I want to see you." Jem's hand loosened, moved, pressed hard against one particular spot... and Blair felt the earth stop as his body tensed... and his climax sped through him. He was vaguely aware of Jem following him over into ecstasy.

"Every time, I think it can't possibly be as good as I remember, and every time..."

"It's better," Jem finished, sleepily.

"Yes, or at least as incredible." Blair smiled. Jem looked as relaxed and sated as Blair felt. Without moving his still tingling body too much, he hunted around for a rag or something to clean them both up. "Next time I talk of going on tour," he grunted as he stretched, "remind me of this part."

Jem's silence caused Blair to pause in his search. "Oh, not the love-making, that part is wonderful," he added. "No, it's the hiding and having to be even more circumspect, having to act as if there is nothing but friendship between us." He lifted Jem's hand and sucked at one of his fingers. "Hmmm, nice," he leered.

Before the evidence of their coupling became too encrusted and uncomfortable, Blair found a cloth and wiped both their hands and penises. "If we were home, I'd take the time to lick you completely clean, but now..." He realized how quiet Jem had become and looked up at his lover's face.

Jem's eyes were closed and his breathing had evened out. Blair chuckled softly. "But now, we are both too tired for that." He lightly kissed Jem on the forehead. "My own love. Sweet dreams attend thee." He snuggled down against Jem, his head on Jem's chest; one arm wrapped around Jem's waist. Jem moved in his sleep and pulled Blair that bit closer. Both men slipped into a restful sleep.

Next morning, Jem looked like he had had a good 'lay', which Blair admitted to himself, was God's own truth. Jem had a relaxed, contented smile on his face even as they went to the Sunday service.

The tiny church was packed with the actors as well as the usual congregation. Master Shakespeare didn't want the King's Men labelled as ungodly. It was dangerous not to attend and it wasn't good for business!

Blair tried to look sombre, as one should when entering the Lord's house, but it wasn't easy when memories of the past night kept intruding into his mind. He hoped God would indulge him a little; after all, they were trying to clear a woman's name.

The thought of Frances Fraser wiped away his good mood.

The black-robed cleric climbed into the pulpit and began to shuffle his papers. Jem stifled a groan. It looked like being a long sermon. Blair elbowed him just as the oration began and Jem looked at his lover. Blair drew his attention to a man standing across from them.

He was certainly distinctive, even amongst the richly dressed courtiers who attended the service. His skin was tanned, he was dressed in a rich deep-colored fabric, of a foreign style, he used a spicy scent that Jem could not place, and he was listening ardently to the sermon.

"Who's that?" Blair softly asked Simon who stood on his other side.

"What?" Simon looked where Blair indicated. "Oh, I think that's the Italian, Romand or something Aldo," he whispered back.

Jem took a longer look. So that is Cecil's Italian agent. The man must have 'felt' Jem's gaze because he looked over and acknowledged Jem with a slight nod of his head.

Jem nodded his head in return, and then his eyes travelled toward to front of the congregation.

The church housed the mortal remains of the Fraser family and Frances had her own pew where she and her second husband stood. They looked like the perfect couple; attractive, well matched, but Jem noticed the tension between them. He couldn't help but compare them to him and Blair. Where as he and his lover stood close enough that their hips and arms bumped together when they fidgeted during the service, Allen and Frances had so much space between them that even Frances' skirt never touched her husband no matter how they moved. Jem found he pitied them that they didn't have what he and Blair shared.

The cleric announced a prayer and all lowered their heads.

Aldo was waiting for the two men as they left the church after the service.

"Master Ellison?" His English was precise, cultured, and obviously well studied. Jem nodded and Aldo turned to Blair. "And you would be Mr. Sands, his partner?"

Blair smiled politely. "Correct on both counts, Signor Aldo." Blair decided to make sure Aldo understood he wasn't alone with inside information.

"The Earl of Salisbury speaks highly of you both. He is confident of your abilities. I, however, prefer my own methods and will be delighted to use them if," he paused, "no, when you fail in your mission." He bowed from the waist and strode away.

"Oh!" Blair exclaimed. "What an arrogant, stiff-backed..." In time, Blair remembered where he was and amended the profanity he was about to express, "individual." He leant in to whisper to Jem, "If his arse were any tighter, he'd be inside out!"

Jem grinned ruefully at him and then, frowning, turned to watch Aldo's receding figure. "I think he is a man who enjoys his work and I fear he won't be satisfied with just one alleged witch." Jem turned to his friends. "We need to get moving on this before Signor Aldo gains the vantage in this investigation."

With no avenue of investigation that day, Blair and Jem took a walk into the countryside. Blair slipped off his jerkin and carried it over one shoulder. He was assessing how difficult it would be to persuade Jem to indulge in a spot of fornication on a holy day, under a green wood tree when Jem's arm came across Blair's chest halting his progress.

"What is it?" Blair asked.

Jem pointed. "Allen...over there, fishing." He turned to Blair, his face grave. "I need to talk to him, Blair, alone."

Blair swallowed his resentment over Jem's friendship with Allen and Frances. "Very well. I shall go back to the inn, study my Bible." Sarcasm colored his words.

Jem didn't even seem to notice. "Right. I will see you later." He walked away leaving Blair behind.

The river was running high, due to the unusually heavy rainfall that hot summer. Allen was sitting with his back to a tree, one leg bent, the other stretched out. His fishing rod was propped up with the line floating in the water. He looked relaxed, his eyes trained on the river, but Jem could tell Allen knew he had company.

Sure enough, as soon as Jem got within a few yards, Allen spoke up. "I don't know why I even try to catch anything. I'm a nobleman. I should leave the fishing to a fisherman, correct?" He looked up at Jem.

Jem decided to be blunt. "Frances is worried about you, Allen; so am I."

"Is this about Frances' fantasies? 'Tis nothing, just a woman's over-imaginative fancies."

"I don't understand why you are being so stubborn about this."

Allen turned his head away. "It doesn't concern you, Jamie."

"Allen..." Jem tried again. "You saved my life. Do you think I would forget that?"

Allen stood up and drew in his line. "Let me tell you something. I took that shot knowing I had a one-in-a-hundred chance. Until he fell, I wasn't sure I got him or he you. It was God's will, not my skill. You owe me nothing."

"So that's it?"

"Yes. That's it."

"Very well. Have it your way. If you need me, I'm staying at the inn."

Jem found Blair back at the tavern's stable, darning stockings while Henri read passages from the Bible. They made a very domestic scene. "I thought you would be doing the reading, Professor." Jem tried to keep the jealousy out of his voice. He half succeeded.

Blair shrugged. "My hose needed darning and Henri has bribed me with the offer of a boon if I do his at the same time." Blair fixed Henri with a glare.

"You do them neater than me, Blair, and those knitted hose cost me a small fortune. It's worth whatever you want to get them repaired."

"Pity we couldn't bring our seamstress with us. Her stitchery is spellbinding." Blair frowned in concentration.

"Aye. If only her temperament were as sweet! She has a tongue like a fish-wife!" Henri turned towards Jem as if just remembering he was there. "Oh, Jem, I saw that Lovejoy fellow going into the snug again. Said he had an hour's ease and would take it with a tankard in his hand." Henri turned back to Blair. "Did I tell you he used to be a bailiff?"

"A shoulder clamper, you say? I am not surprised. He looked the type to take a widow's mite."

"Aye, I think..."

Jem was out of patience. "How long ago did you see him, Henri?" he interrupted.

"My pardon, Jem. Not long. I went to fetch my nether hose for Blair, after striking such a hard bargain." Henri returned Blair's glare, but Blair appeared unconcerned, "and saw Mr. Lovejoy then. You should still be able to catch him. Why are you interested in him anyway? He doesn't appear the type to thieve from a group of actors."

"There is something about him that raises my hackles. I feel he has to be hiding something. I just want to make sure it doesn't cause the troupe any problems. You coming, Sands?"

"I may as well. I have time before dusk and the start of my lord Hay's fire show and then our own play." Blair flexed his fingers. "I don't know how Mistress Samantha sews for so long. No wonder she breathes fire!"

Henri put his hand across Blair's shoulders. "I once thought you liked her fiery passion, my friend." He chuckled. "But that was before you met Jem, of course."

Blair's face turned scarlet. He shook off Henri's hand, covering his embarrassment with a chuckle. "Away with you, Henri! Here, take your hose and your foolishness." He threw the stockings at his friend.

"See how he treats his friends, Jem." Henri pouted. "As our bodyguard, why do you not chastise him?"

Jem laughed. "I would not dare."

"You will not get the opportunity," Blair declared.

Henri lost his pout and laughed aloud. He clapped Blair on the shoulder. "I must go on to his majesty's hunting palace and help set things up. Thank you for doing this, Dame Seamstress." He waved his stockings over his head as he walked away.

Blair, smiling, shook his head at his retreating friend.

"I did not think your friends would be so agreeable about us," Jem commented.

Blair turned towards him. "They like you and know that you are trustworthy, Jem, even if they do not understand how you do the things you do. That is enough for them."

"And for you? Do you trust me?" Jem held Blair's gaze.

"Any reason why I shouldn't?"

"None."

Blair nodded. "Well then, let us seek out this Harry Lovejoy and see how trustworthy he may be."

Lovejoy was sitting in the snug, smoking a pipe with a tankard of ale sat in front of him, when they found him. He looked Jem up and down. "Well, well. It's Master Ellison, isn't it? I wondered if you would be coming to see me."

Jem's smile was shrewd. "Now what would cause you to think that?"

Lovejoy declined to answer. He took a swallow of his drink.

"You've been with the Archer family long?" Jem tried another approach.

Lovejoy shrugged as he sat his tankard down. "A while."

"And with Allen Archer?"

Lovejoy ignored Jem's question and turned towards Blair. "Who is your friend?" he asked, leering at Blair.

"Never you mind about him, it's me who is asking the questions."

Lovejoy turned back, his eyes narrowing. "Why are you asking?"

"Why don't you just tell me what form of retainer you are?"

Lovejoy stood up. "The best kind - one who knows the Archer secrets and how to keep them." He made for the door but Jem grabbed his arm.

"You didn't answer my questions."

"Why don't you ask Master Allen?"

"I did."

"Then ask him again!" Lovejoy pulled his arm from Jem's grasp. "Or maybe you should go look into your scrying glass." He tramped out of the room.

Blair caught Jem's arm as he went after the man. "Jem, I think you should just let him go. He practically accused you of witchcraft."

"I can't do that. Something's going on and Allen's a friend."

"Wrong friend," Blair mumbled.

Jem twisted around to face his partner. "What?"

"Do you think I'm blind, Jem? The one you are trying to protect is Frances."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Blair was prevented from answering by Robin entering the snug, a serving wench wrapped around him. "Your pardon, gentlemen. I didn't realise anyone was still in here."

"It's fine, Robin. We are done here." Blair strode out of the room and out into the main road, not bothering to check if Jem was following.

Jem hesitated for one full second before he went after his lover. "Sands, wait!" He caught up with his partner just beyond the trees that lined the road. He took hold of Blair's upper arm in a tight grip and pulled him around.

"What, in God's name, is wrong with you? There is nothing between Frances and me. There never has been. She was unattainable then and she is now."

Blair shook himself free. "Where as I am very attainable. Attainable and available!" he snapped.

"I didn't mean.... Zounds! You sound like a cast off lover!" Jem loudly declared.

"Maybe that's how I feel!" Blair's voice rose to match Jem's and a flock of startled starlings took off from the trees.

It distracted both men from their fight.

Blair stepped back and took a few deep breaths, forcing the tension from his body. He pushed his hair back from his face and sighed. "Your pardon, Jem. I have no right to speak so. You are just so very important to me. If you found someone who could make you happier than I... I would find it very hard to just walk away and let you be." He hung his head.

Jem moved closer and placed his hands on Blair's shoulders, then sliding them to cup his lover's face, bringing his chin up and stroking his thumbs over Blair's heated cheeks gently. "You really think I could ever let you walk away? While I admit Frances strikes a chord in me, you are... you are the choir with musical accompaniment. I love you and you alone, Blair Sandburg."

Jem's use of Blair's true name caused a lump to form in the actor's throat. "Ah, Jem. And you say you are no word-smith." He turned his head and kissed the heel of Jem's hand, looking up into his lover's eyes as he did. He saw Jem's eyes darken with passion and then he bowed his head to meet Blair's.

The kiss went on until the need for air forced the men apart. Blair rested his head against Jem's collarbone. "I ought to help my fellows with the stage at the hunting lodge," he mumbled.

Jem felt Blair's warm breath and he shivered. "Aye. And I should pay a visit on the Master of Fireworks. See if he needs any assistance in keeping his audience at a distance."

Blair looked up. "Which would give you ample opportunity to observe. Yes, that would be a good move. But I should be there with you when the fireworks go off. That loud noise may send you into one of your spells and I do not like the idea of you being too near to explosives while in one of those."

Jem smiled softly. "I promise not to stretch my senses out too far without you being there. Is that fair enough?"

"It will do." Blair smiled in return. He bent his head to kiss the exposed skin on Jem's neck.

Jem tilted his head back giving Blair more access. "We should get started." His voice had a distracted quality to it.

"I am," Blair huffed against Jem's skin, his hands moved down to cup Jem's arse through his trunk hose.

"What is this? Payback for my teasing yesterday?" Jem ground out.

Blair chuckled. "No, we took care of that last night. What say you to helping me prepare for my part?"

"What do you have in mind?"

"Something that needs a room, you disrobing, and maybe some soap and water."

"We have a little time...." Jem was willing to be swayed.

"We just need the place." Blair grinned as he took Jem's hand in his own and pulled him back towards the inn.

With a little judicious persuading, Blair convinced their landlord to rent them a room for half of an hour. He then sent Jem out for a jug of water, and Jem, though curious, went as asked. As soon as he returned, Blair swiftly took the item from his hands and placed it down on the floor. Then he turned and pushed Jem hard against the door, taking his mouth almost brutally. "I want to give you what no woman ever can," he whispered, hotly, against Jem's lips, as he pinched Jem's nipples through his shirt. "Will you undress yourself or shall I do it?" He stepped back just enough for Jem to regain his equilibrium.

Jem's cock was hard and leaking. "I told you before, there is nothing between Frances and me." His hands moved clumsily to unbutton his shirt.

"I know there is naught between you, but I want you to never forget what we are to each other. Leave the shirt on. I'll see to that." Blair added. "Just remove your breeches and stockings."

Jem glanced up even as his hands went to unfasten his hose. Blair was holding his cock through his clothes. "Aren't you undressing?"

"Just savouring the moment, Jem." Blair leered. "Anticipation is part of the pleasure."

"For whom? We have only a short time with this room."

"Well, get a move on then!"

"Bossy little wretch!" Jem said as he struggled not to fall over while trying to remove his stockings over his shoes. "There!" he said, placing his garments on a stool, allowing Blair to ogle at his rear, and then standing triumphantly.

Blair licked his lips. Jem was bare footed, in just his slop shirt, his cock tenting the material. "You are a sight for sore eyes, and no mistake." He unbuttoned his fly, feeling the air hit his engorged organ. "Hands on the window sill. Legs apart." Blair's words were raspy and rough.

Jem did as he was told and Blair stood behind him, lifting the shirt to expose Jem's backside. "Such a fair rear. Firm enough to bounce a leather ball off." He ran his hands over the pale flesh, then lightly slapped it, watching it quiver slightly. He then knelt, leant forward and rubbed his chin stubble against Jem's buttocks, feeling them grow warm. Above his head, Jem was holding his breath.

Blair wasn't having that. He wanted to hear his lover express his pleasure. He kissed the area nearest Jem's hole and then nibbled at it, causing his lover to shudder, and then drop his head to his chest with a groan.

"Do you intend to torture me or fuck me?"

"No torture, my love, just sweet love bites, so you know who is kissing you. I fully intend to fuck you into the morrow, have no fear of that." He glanced over to the common straw mattress the landlord provided. He and Jem knew, from painful experience, just how much coarse bedding could irritate Jem's sensitive skin, leaving it red and sore. The floor, however, seemed clean, new rushes had been laid....

"Blllairrr..."

He realised he'd left Jem hanging and turned his attention back to the little puckered opening he so badly wanted to fill. "Sorry, my love. I was just considering options." He lightly kissed Jem's hole, giving it a slow lick before lifting his head. "I snagged some soap wort from the kitchen. I will prepare you so well I can slide in with no pain." He sat back on his knees. "I give you a choice. You can be either on all fours, or on your back. Which would you prefer?"

It took Jem a moment to comprehend Blair's words, so lost he'd been in the pleasure Blair's tongue had given him. "On all fours," he replied.

"A good choice, Jem." Blair smiled. "You make yourself comfortable while I make this lather." Taking the leaves from his purse, he rubbed them in the jug of water, until his hands had slippery froth covering them, then he turned around to see a sight that never failed to take his breath away: Jem Ellison, ready and willingly offering himself to Blair.

He ran a slippery hand under Jem's shirt. "Oh, Jem, how much I love you," he whispered.

Jem heard the emotion in Blair's voice and he shifted until he lay on his side, facing his lover, a soft smile on his flushed face.

Blair put two wet fingers to Jem's lips. "Shhh. You don't need to say anything."

Jem took Blair's hand and kissed it. "Perhaps I don't, yet sometimes you need to hear the words, as much as I need to say them." His smile turned wicked. "Then again, I believe actions speak louder than words...." He pulled Blair down to kiss him.

They separated and Blair licked his lips, savouring the taste of his lover. He grinned. "I love a man of action, but I cannot deny that I like to hear such words from your mouth."

"Good, because if you tried to deny it, I would know you lie. Now will you please stop tormenting me and put that tool of yours to good use?"

"Aye, verily, my love, after I've finished preparing you!"

Jem let his head fall back to the floor. "Ahhh! You take too long. I want you in me now!"

"It takes as long as it takes. You would do well to remember how long you take when it is my turn to ride your cock. Now, unless you want a different course, roll over."

Jem turned over and returned to his position. He lowered his arms and rested his head on them, which raised his bottom higher.

Blair moaned with desire and hastily lathered up his fingers again. He penetrated his lover's body, stretching the hole, making sure to rub against Jem's pleasure spot as he did, earning him a loud gasp. Speedily, he slicked up his cock and he drove home into Jem's eager body as Jem gasped out Blair's name and came.

The summer heat was still clinging to the remains of the day. With not even a breeze to cool the air now that it was getting dark, it seemed to be heading towards another humid and clammy night.
The large hall of King James' hunting lodge offered a little relief, but putting up the pieces of their temporary stage still had the actors working up a sweat. Blair had arrived bearing food and milk for his friends. He knew he was late, and hoped that the food would stave off any bad tempered ire.

Now he, like Simon, had stripped to the waist and Blair was dreading the heavy costume he would be pinned into later. He wiped the back of his neck with a scarf and sneaked a glance out of the near window, hoping to spy Jem.

The Master of Fireworks and his men were gathering quite a crowd of spectators as they set things up. Though far across the garden, Blair could recognize Jem standing near by, no doubt making sure that no one came too close.

Blair smiled affectionately. He felt the familiar tingle he always got watching his sentinel work. An errant drop of sweat ran down Blair's torso and he distractedly scratched his chest. After they had made love, Jem had helped him shave the top of his upper body - as he would be wearing a low cut gown - and he could feel the faint stubble that remained.

"Blair! Come away from that window," Joseph called. "What if a lady with delicate sensibilities sees you?"

"Yes, Blair," Robin added his own voice. "You could give some gentlewoman apoplexy!"

"Ha! More like faint from animal passion, Robin!" Blair declared, but he moved back to the group.

"Animal is right!" Henri pointed out. "With so much hair on your body, we should call you wolf-man or hair-boy on the bills."

"Wolf-man, hmmm. I quite like that." Blair waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Gentlemen. Gentlemen. If you do not concentrate on your chores, you will all be known as 'the guards on the left' upon our bills! Now some of us would like to see the fireworks before our show, so I suggest you lend a hand here."

"Your pardon, Simon." Blair said, his sentiments echoed by Henri and Robin, though they all bit back smiles.

By the time Blair escaped into the gardens, the sky was growing dark towards the west. It was a lovely shade of blue and purple, with odd streaks of pink and gold clouds. It reminded Blair of a pendent a sailor once gave Naomi. Semiprecious stones from the New World, all set in gold, he'd said - though when Naomi wore it, it turned her neck green!

Blair took a deep breathe of the flower scented air. A blackbird was singing a farewell to the day and the noble lords and ladies in damasks, silks and satins, were beginning to gather, some wearing short capes over their bright clothes to guard against any cool draught. It was a feast for the senses and Blair looked to where he'd seen Jem earlier - only to see Lady Frances heading towards his lover.

Blair's eyes narrowed. He's mine, my lady, mine, and you can keep your fine hands off him! He doubled his pace to head her off before she reached Jem.

"Mr. Sands!"

"Damn!" Blair cursed under his breath as Catherine Howard approached him. "My Lady." He bowed politely.

"I'm glad I caught you. I hope you haven't forgotten your role for later this evening."

Blair felt his heart fall to his stomach. "Mistress, you jest!"

"Indeed not, sir. I will see you after your play to ready you for the king's pleasure." She strolled away, pleased with herself, leaving Blair staring after her. He shot a look at Jem and was relieved to see that his lover was talking to the fire master's apprentice and probably hadn't overheard Dame Howard's words. There was no sign of Frances. What am I going to say to him? How can I go to the king - how can I not go?

By the time Blair reached Jem, he felt that the heavens were conspiring against them and his heart was pounding in his chest. He prayed that if Jem noticed anything, Blair could explain it as excitement over the display. Certainly, there was an air of anticipation in the growing audience, particularly when the king and his ministers appeared and strolled over, deep in conversation. Torches were lit around the garden, keeping the dark at bay and guiding the way down to where the spectators would be able to see the display.

The workers were loading their specially prepared launchers with the gunpowder 'bombs' before it became too dark to see. The crowd had been kept well back and were excitedly mumbling. Blair stood close to Jem and gazed at his lover. Jem's face was lit by the torches, sharpening his features, and turning his eyes darker. He was watching the crowd, 'ears erect', and eyes open, for any problems, though it seemed to Blair, there was nothing to worry about -

- then, suddenly, the earth rocked under their feet as a loud explosion ripped through the air, and Jem pushed Blair down to the ground as debris fell around them.

"God's teeth!" Blair cried out. "What the hell was that?"

Jem shook his head to clear it and grimaced then rubbed his ears. Blair, concerned that his sentinel was in trouble, grasped his hand to get his attention. "Jem? Can you hear me? How are your senses?"

"I'm all right, just a little deafened. You?"

Blair was aware of his ears 'popping' and he heard cried and sobs.

"I'll live," he said.

Jem helped him to his feet and they looked around to assess the damage. People were helping each other up. Some were crying and being comforted. Cecil, who had shielded the king with his own body, had regained his feet, and was heading towards the gunpowder wagon - now nothing but a large bonfire, sending out sparks and small, but loud, explosions. Some women, and some men, were crying out in fear and shock with each new boom. But above it all, was the sound of hysterical screaming as Lady Fraser began to run full tilt towards the burning wagon.

Jem intercepted her. "Lady Fraser! Frances!" He took her arms and all but shook her to get her attention. She looked up with dazed eyes. "Allen..." She pointed a shaky finger at the wagon.

To Jem sounds seemed subdued and hollow, as if he was hearing under water. He had to force his attention towards the woman before him. "What was he doing lingering by the gunpowder wagon?" he asked.

"He was meeting someone, I do not know who. Oh Jem, what ever shall I do? Poor, poor Allen!"

She fell against Jem's chest and wept bitterly. Jem's arms went around her. "Shhh, it will be all right." He frowned. He had lost a friend, and now had to comfort his widow.

Blair shook himself out of his shocked daze and looked around for Frances' maid, signalling her to take charge of her mistress.

Jem handed the weeping woman over and turned to Cecil. "With your permission, my lord, I will try to discover who caused this foul deed."

The earl nodded tightly. With the first flash of the explosion, he'd immediately gone to shield the king, now all his thoughts were on getting his majesty to safety. "See to it, Ellison." He turned to the scared servants standing around. "Where is his majesty's physician? He should be near, in case the king needs him. And have him attend to Lady Fraser. She has had a great shock. "

With Cecil thus occupied, Jem and Blair began their own investigation. What was left of the wagon was still burning, small explosions shaking the ground around and causing the men who were racking out the debris and fetching buckets of sand, to hastily back away. Jem started by questioning these men. Yes, they had seen Allen Archer standing by the wagon, as though waiting for someone, but they never saw another soul near him.

Blair looked at the debris with a morbid curiosity. He didn't think there would be anything of Allen left and if he saw anything like human remains, he'd vomit, yet, for some reason, he felt driven to examine the wreckage, to be certain. He found what he was looking for at the same moment as Jem.

His lover's face went white and he held a cloth to his face as they stared at the charred remains of Allen Archer. Then the rain began to fall, taking any evidence with it.

They turned to follow the sombre crowd back to the house where Simon joined them at the servant's entrance. "Under the circumstances, our performance has been postponed. I know of your interest in Archer's retainer, Jem, and I've had a local lad keep an eye on him. He's presently sleeping off drink in a nearby barn."

Jem nodded, distractedly. His hearing had cleared and he was half listening for Frances, focusing on the sounds of her sobbing and her elevated heartbeat and dismissing anything else. "It's too soon to get any answers from Lady Fraser. Let's see if Lovejoy will share these Archer secrets he spoke of knowing."

They awoke Lovejoy in the barn and he gazed, warily, at the two men who loomed over him. As they stepped back, he got slowly to his feet, bending to brush the straw from his slop trousers. Blair stood guard by the barn door, ready to stop Lovejoy, in the unlikely event he should try and get past Simon and Jem.

"So what do you say I've done now?"

"Allen Archer is dead," Simon began, "killed in an explosion. We want to know who killed him."

Lovejoy frowned. "I know nothing of this. I've been here, sleeping. Why would I harm Master Allen?"

Jem was searching for any signs of falsehoods on the man, but his heart rate was only slightly high, he wasn't sweating... there was nothing Jem could find to indicate lies. "Maybe you were blackmailing him over his secrets?"

Lovejoy scoffed. "In that case, I would want him alive, not dead."

"So you admit to blackmail?" Simon ventured.

"No, I do not." Lovejoy clammed up.

Simon shook his head. "Well, I still think there's a measure of doubt over where you got the coins to buy ale." He turned to Jem. "Perhaps a spell in the village stocks would loosen his tongue?"

"Maybe. The weather has broken so he won't burn with the heat sitting there waiting for someone with good aim to throw some food at him."

"There is that, but then the locals may not be so charitable as to throw good food to one who has had something to do with the death of a knight-gentleman."

"All right! All right." Lovejoy sighed in defeat. "The truth of the matter is that Allen Archer conned some wealthy people out of some money. He said he had a map of the City of Gold in the New World. He said he would mount an expedition to bring back the gold. It never happened and my employers sent me along to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn't abscond before he paid back the money. I had no reason to kill him. In fact she promised me..."

"She?" Jem interrupted.

"Lady Frances. She gave me a few coins to spend in the inn while she talked to her husband."

"So Archer was worth more to you and your employers alive."

"That's about the size of it. Now I have to explain to my masters why they won't get their money from Archer."

Jem leaned into the man's face. "If anyone has any idea of threatening Lady Frances to get payment, they will have me to answer to." He paused to be sure Lovejoy got the message, then straightened and marched out of the barn, ignoring Blair's "Jem! Wait a moment."

Having gained permission from Cecil to interview Frances, Jem was admitted into her candle-lit antechamber where she was sitting with a maid. Her eyes were red and swollen and her maid had a jar of pungent-smelling spirits of hartshorn at the ready, in case her ladyship should swoon in her grief. Jem sat on a stool close enough to take Frances' hand.

"Tell me what you can, my lady."

"Allen was all in a rage, the last time I saw him. He said I shouldn't have spoken to you. He said he was going to put an end to this, once and for all. But I have no idea what he meant."

"That's not what Harry Lovejoy says."

Frances' blue eyes flashed in anger and hurt. "And you believe him over me?"

"I don't want to, but I do believe you are holding something back."

Frances looked down to the kerchief she was clenching. "One night, a while ago," she began, quietly, "Allen came to me in a panic. He had been drinking and so it all came out. He'd done something stupid, he said, and he told me about promising to take some fool expedition that had collapsed even before he'd gotten started and he needed money to repay his backers."

"What did you do?"

"The only thing I could think of. I sold my jewels and when Lovejoy arrived, I gave him the money. Only it wasn't enough."

"You could have divorced him."

"I was terrified of him." She eased her robe from her shoulder to reveal blotchy purple bruises, and turned away her head. Her maid gasped and sobbed.

"He said he'd kill me if I left him."

Jem rubbed his forehead. "I thought I knew him."

"He wasn't the man you remembered." Frances turned her head, her eyes earnestly seeking Jem's. "But you, you are the man I knew. I had an idea, a silly idea, that you could protect me."

"Who do you think killed him, Frances?"

"I don't know. One of his backers? I tried not to pry, Jem. He was my husband and I tried to be a good wife to him."

Jem stood and took her hand. He tenderly pulled her to her feet and put his arms around her, feeling her begin to weep again against his chest.

Blair had eaten with his fellow actors, but only picked at his food. The look of the charred meat made his stomach turn and he knew it would be a while before he could face well-cooked meat again. He would have felt better if Jem had been there with them. As much as Jem needed Blair to help him focus his abilities, Blair needed Jem for stability. He loved the man so much, he couldn't - wouldn't - imagine life without him. Blair sighed, pushing his neglected platter across the table. "I'm going to retire to bed. Good night, gentlemen."

With answering calls of "Good night, Blair." "Don't let the bed-bugs bite!" he left the inn.

He hoped Jem would be waiting in the wagon, and was more than disappointed to find his lover still absent. He made up their bed and climbed in. He put the lamp out and for a long time just stared at the blackness, thinking.

Blair woke from a restless sleep, just after daybreak, feeling that he'd just had catnaps all the night. He turned onto his side and reached out for his lover, only to find the blanket on that side still cold and undisturbed. His heart sank. He wearily climbed from the wagon and went out to the yard to draw up some water from the well.

He found Jem sitting on the stable mounting block, a beaker of milk in his hand.

"Good day, Jem," Blair said, carefully. "You look like you've not slept a wink." Indeed, there were dark shadows under Jem's eyes.

Jem gazed up from the depths of his cup. "No more do you." He stood and walked over. "I found an empty chair to nap in. I didn't wish to disturb you."

"You should have. We both might have slept better. What time did you return?"

"Very late. I wanted to check Lovejoy's story with Frances and discovered Allen had been beating her. She bears his mark, but there was no anger towards him. She even mourns for him." He shook his head at the folly of females. "After I left her, I took a walk to think."

"Did you reach any conclusions?"

"Only that Lovejoy is an unlikely killer. He could have done it, but..."

"No. Have you thought of looking closer to home?" Blair concentrated on drawing up the bucket from the well and then splashing his face.

"What are you trying to say, Professor? I'm not in the mood for riddles."

Blair wiped his hands and face on the cloth he carried over his shoulder. "What was it Cecil once told us? You remember, motive, opportunity, method, the things most villains have."

Jem put his beaker down on the well wall. "I'm sure there's a point to all this."

"My point is maybe Allen was too handy with his fists, and too demanding for money, that's motive. She certainly had an opportunity."

"She planted a fuse, lit it and then came running from the opposite direction? There goes your 'opportunity'. Moreover, how would she obtain the fuses? How could she subdue Allen long enough to have him stay there and be killed? There goes your method."

"She could have had help."

"I think... I think you are the one who needs help. I'm going to report to Cecil." Jem turned and walked away.

"I'm sorry I brought it up," Blair mumbled.

Robert Cecil saw Jem right away and listened attentively to his account. "Do you intend to question her ladyship again? Or were the original allegations malicious gossip?"

"I believe she is a victim, not a witch nor a killer. I would not like to intrude on her grief any more than necessary."

Cecil nodded slowly. "Very well. Keep me informed."

Jem bowed. "Of course, my lord."

He had barely stepped out of the house when a small lad came running up. "Sire, sire. My lady Fraser asks your protection. Her men are out with the king, hunting, and she and her ladies have seen someone suspicious down by the stables. Please will you come?"

"Aye, lead on, lad."

Jem stood still and listened. He could hear someone moving about in the trees behind the stables. He took his dagger from his belt and, stealthily, Jem began to hunt. He found a man loading heavy saddlebags onto a horse, and silently moved behind him.

"Stop right there," he ordered.

The figure stilled. "How now, Jamie," the man called out in greeting.

"Allen." Somehow, Jem didn't feel surprised to see his 'late' friend. "Turn around, slowly."

"Or what, Jamie? You'll kill me?"

"I don't want to do that." Jem sighed. "I had all the pieces, didn't I, yet I couldn't make them fit, until right now. You faked your death, let Lovejoy take the fall, and what? Sail away to another land?"

"You know me - always looking to the future."

"So the whole thing was a cozener's trick right from the hunt? You knew, somehow, that I was on the road with the actors. Did you stage the horse bucking somehow too?"

"That's it. Get it out of your system." Allen turned away with a smirk on his face.

"But the best was yet to come. You needed someone to believe Frances, to be there and accept her word, someone who would let love and friendship cloud his judgment."

"You were a means to an end, nothing more. A way to escape my creditors. Nothing personal."

That broke through Jem's control. "It was all personal!"

Allen seemed to realize he'd read Jem wrong and he quickly backtracked. "Jem, listen to me. All you have to do is walk away," he entreated.

"As you did from that explosion, as that poor soul didn't!"

"That was a nobody. Just some low base coney catcher. I guarantee no one will miss him."

Jem shook his head. "What happened to you, Allen?"

"I grew up!" Allen snapped. "You know, Jamie, I was wrong. You do owe me!"

"I thought you were just in the right place!"

"I changed my mind."

"I've got to turn you in, Allen, Frances too." Jem said, flatly.

A shout alerted them to a group of men running towards them, swords drawn ready.

"Oh, right. You arranged for help." Allen scoffed. "Couldn't take me alone."

Jem frowned. "I never asked for help."

The color drained from Allen's face. "The witch!" He drew his sword on Jem.

"Don't do that, Allen."

"I won't be thrown in some jail, Jem, to be forgotten." He lunged at Jem who went to defend himself with his dagger. Allen caught hold of Jem's blade and pulled it towards him, piercing Allen's body through to his heart. His sword dropped from his fingers. A crimson stain appeared on his jerkin and Jem felt the stickiness as the blood travelled over the hilt of his dagger and onto Jem's hand. He gently lowered Allen to the ground. "Help is at hand, Allen. Hold on... please, hold on." He heard Allen's heart slow... and then stop, but could do nothing except hold his friend to him as the group of men arrived.

Jem stood back, allowing Allen's body to be reverently lifted and carried back to the stable yard. The Sentinel felt detached from the whole ceremony. He clenched and unclenched his hands. They felt cold, almost numb. It was only when Blair came up and placed his hand on Jem's shoulder that the world seemed to rush in. Jem realised Frances was standing with Aldo. He watched as Frances played her part as the grieving widow for a second time, and followed her husband's body into the house. Simon came to stand on the other side of Jem, offering his support as Aldo stepped forward with his hired men.

"Lady Frances has made a serious accusation against you. You and her husband were going to fake his death in order to fool his creditors. You were going to rob and murder her ladyship. Oh, but then you decided you desired Lady Frances and her money. Therefore, you killed Archer," Aldo declared.

Jem shook his head. "Despite what you may feel about me personally, even you have to admit this sounds pretty strange. It doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"Just why would Lady Frances lie?"

"So she wouldn't be implicated in her husband's trickery."

Aldo scoffed. "That's what Lady Frances said you'd say. She accuses you of witchcraft. She claims you bewitched her and killed her husband. We are done talking. Seize him," Aldo ordered his hired lackeys.

"What?" cried Blair. "No! You can't..." He stepped forward to go to his lover.

Jem shook his head at Blair and Simon put his hand on Blair's shoulder.

"Simon...." Blair pleaded.

"Harm one hair on that man's head..." No one could miss the threat in the Moor's voice.

Aldo looked him up and down. "You seem to think these men are part of your own private fiefdom. I suggest you remember your place, Banks."

"Where shall we put him, sir?" asked one of the men holding onto Jem.

"Somewhere secure."

"There's Royston cave - well, it's a hole in the ground really, deep enough that he can't climb out."

"Aye, they say the old knights used it to purify themselves before battle."

"How deep?" Aldo asked.

"The height of four or five men. at least. He wouldn't get out of there without a ladder." The man smirked.

"Good enough, throw him in. And put something on top to keep him in there just in case he sprouts wings and tries to fly out."

The men chuckled nervously.

"No!" Blair struggled under Simon's hand.

Jem spoke up as they dragged him away. "Simon, look to Blair for me."

"You have my word, my friend."

Blair watched, his heart in his mouth, as Jem was taken from his sight.

Any idea the men had that throwing Jem down into a hole would be easy was quickly proved wrong. He affected a defeated air, going willing as though the fight had left him. Once he saw that they had relaxed their guard, Jem threw a series of punches that staggered one man and then felled the second. The third, however, was ready and he charged at Jem, causing him to lose his balance. He slipped, fell - arms flailing - grabbing hold of the rim of the cave with his fingertips at the last second, his legs kicking in the empty air.

The men laughed as they climbed to their feet. One carefully placed his foot on top of Jem's fingers and pressed down. Jem cursed, but tried to grab the man's ankle with his other hand to pull him over. He nearly succeeded, but the ruffian's friend eased his hand away - finger by finger - and Jem went scrabbling down into the dark, groping madly for a handhold as he fell.

"We have to do something." Blair was pacing the floor of the stables where some members of the troupe had gathered. All were despondent.

"What would you have us do, lad?" Will Shakespeare asked.

"Talk to the Earl of Salisbury, or even the king... just something! We can't leave Jem rotting in that hole."

"I don't see how talking to the Earl would do us any good," Henri said, "and as for getting to see the king..."

"There must be a way, there has to be."

"Blair... Blair!" Simon's voice rose to get Blair's attention.

"What?" Blair's head snapped around.

"This is doing neither you nor Jem any good. We need more to find out why her ladyship should make these accusations."

"It's obvious, isn't it? She wanted rid of both her husband and Jem, so she used one and accused the other."

"It may be obvious to you, Blair," Shakespeare said quietly, "but you have no proof and, without proof, Master Ellison will lie in that hole till the next assize judge comes around this way..."

"There has to be a way..."

Jem lay still. Although his fall hadn't seriously injured him, it had knocked the breath from his body. Above him, the wooden covering was dragged across the mouth of the cave, effectively shutting him in.

His eyes slowly became accustomed to the gloom; his enhanced sight compensating for the lack of light, allowing him to see even in the darkness. He stood up, carefully, and surveyed his surroundings.

He climbed up to stand on a raised step that skirted the floor of the cave. The lower part of the chamber was cylindrical and reached higher than he could stretch. Above that, the upper area looked more bell-shaped. Separating the two levels was a painted carving that stretched along the walls. Blair would love to see this, Jem thought, but not in these circumstances. He dusted his hands and tried to think of a way out.

The stable door slammed open, causing Blair to stop his pacing, and three of Aldo's men came in, two carrying nasty looking pitchforks, the third carrying a pistol and a length of rope.

Shakespeare came to his feet. "What do you want here?" he demanded.

"Mr. Sands is wanted for questioning by Master Aldo. Says we're to take him, willingly or no."

"You go too far, gentlemen," Shakespeare said, angrily.

Simon stood defiantly in front of Blair. "You want him, you have to come through me first."

Blair recognized the lead man as the antagonist in the fight over his sweetheart making cow's eyes at Henri. Blair knew this situation could quickly get out of hand and his friends badly hurt. He stepped around Simon. "Be easy, Simon. There's no need for you to put yourself in danger." He smiled tightly.

Simon objected. "I gave Jem my word."

"And he forgets that I am a grown man, well used to taking care of myself. Better if you can get word to more respected ears."

"So you're going to come without any fuss?" The thug seemed almost disappointed.

Blair nodded and turned to his friends. "Please, gentlemen, get word to the Earl on mine and Jem's behalf."

Shakespeare nodded curtly. "We'll find a way, lad."

Blair's hands were tied with some rope and he was led away.

Jem fell back for about the third time and landed heavily, his arm twisted under him. "Damn!" he swore aloud. He was sweating. The humidity in the cave was bad enough, but the exertion of trying to climb out made things even more uncomfortable.

He sat up with a wince and slowly worked his shoulder, stretching his arm very gingerly and groaning as his muscles made known their objections to the movement.

There was a scraping sound from above and, ever cautious, Jem moved back against the wall in the deep shadows, focusing his sight on the trapdoor. He saw it lifted away and then a long ladder was lowered down. Jem stood still until he knew who was waiting at the top.

"Come on, Jem! What are you waiting for, an invitation?" Simon's voice rang down.

Blair was taken to the town forge in the opposite direction from Jem, where Aldo was waiting, inspecting the tools that surrounded the blood-red hearth fire. It was a humid night outside, but here in the forge the heat was even more stifling and heavy. Blair felt a cold sweat run down the back of his neck. Aldo didn't even seem to notice the high temperature. His face seemed to take on a sinister glow, lit by the fire in the otherwise dark forge. He ran his gloved hand over the poker that rested on the hearth.

"I do not want to make things painful for you, Mr. Sands." Aldo turned to face him. "Actually, you can make things a lot easier for yourself."

"And you could make things a lot easier for me if you just let my friends alone," Blair replied, boldly.

Aldo nodded. "I can understand you wishing to protect your friends, and you and Master Ellison are good friends, are you not? You spend time with each other, you travel together; even share the same sleeping arrangements. You see things, hear things."

"Why don't you just get to the point, Signor Aldo? I've known James Ellison for a while now, and he is a good man, a moral man."

"You were nowhere near when Allen Archer was killed. Your friend was. Why is it so hard to believe that he would kill for the love of a woman?"

"Because I know him."

"You think you know him." Aldo insisted.

"Wrong, signor. I know him. You said it yourself, we're friends. Jem would no more kill a friend for a woman, than... fly to the moon! If you want someone to blame for this farce, then you are going to have to look elsewhere."

"Oh, I don't think so, Mr. Sands." Aldo beckoned his hired men over and as Blair tensed his body, Aldo took up his church-warden pipe, filled it from his tobacco pouch and lit it with a piece of wood from the fire. Then he leaned back against a wall and watched dispassionately as one of his minions held Blair's arms while the other two laid into the actor with their fists....

Jem began the climb up the ladder, each step pulling at his shoulder a little. He was panting as he reached the lip of the cave and Simon offered him a hand out. As Jem took it, he froze, noticing the glowing wolf standing beside his friend.

"Simon... I don't want to worry you, but there's a wolf..."

"What? Oh, that's just Jowler." Simon bent down and scratched the glowing hound behind its ear. The 'wolf' huffed and panted, obviously happy with Simon's attention.

"Jowler?" Jem couldn't take his eyes off the animal.

"Yes, he's one of the king's hunting dogs, bit long in the tooth now, aren't you boy?"

"Simon, he's glowing."

The big moor laughed and straightened. "It's one of the tricks of an actor's trade. We use this powder to coat shrouds for Shakespeare's ghost scenes." He held up the hand that had petted the dog. It was glowing. "It does no harm to the beast, and certainly scared off your guard, with the help of some sound effects." He cupped his hands over his mouth and howled long and loud. Jowler's ears flicked back and forth and he licked his jaw.

Jem laughed, still a little shakily. "Well, it would scare me too." He got to his feet.

Simon nodded, suddenly serious. "Let us hope it works as well on Aldo."

"Forgive me, Simon, I really do not want to see that man until the morrow."

"I agree, my friend. But he has Blair."

"What! Simon, I asked you to watch out for him."

"I know, Jem, and I tried. He didn't take too kindly to me trying to shield him."

Jem was frowning. "No, he never does."

"You know," Aldo said as he tapped his pipe against the side of the forge, "when my Lord Salisbury invited me into his service, I was able to bring some of the tools of my trade with me. It is an old trade, passed on from master to apprentice, but one that is dying out now. Sadly, I had to leave my instruments behind in London. This..." he waved his hand at the sight of Blair reduced to his knees, clutching his stomach, his lip spilt open and bleeding, panting in pain, "is so primitive, but if you do not cooperate and tell me details of Master Ellison's sins against God and man, then..." he picked up the blacksmith's tongs... "we shall have to improvise. Get him on his feet," he ordered his men. "So tell me how Ellison and Archer conspired to bewitch Lady Frances." He began to advance on Blair.

Blair shook his head slowly and wiped the blood from his mouth. "Signor, you are wrong. Now if you have no more questions, perhaps you'll allow me to return to my friends." With more courage than he felt, Blair held out his tied hands.

Before Aldo could reply, there was a loud 'scratch, scratch' on the door.

"What is that sound? A fox?" Aldo asked, angrily.

One of his men slowly shook his head. "Sounds too big for a fox."

A long howl fell over his words and Aldo's hired hands became very still. One swallowed hard, obviously nervous over what could have made such a sound. "Could be one of the king's dogs got loose," he mumbled, doubtfully.

"Well, go and see to it, man! I don't want the whole village up and about."

The man took up a poker and, with obvious reluctance, went to the door. He eased it open a crack --

-- and went flying back as Jowler flew against the door, ramming it open and barking for all he was worth.

Aldo's men were so taken aback they offered no resistance, and Jem and Simon, running in after the dog, easily overcame them. Aldo wasn't so easily disabled. He grabbed a hold of Blair and held a stiletto dagger tight to his throat.

"Move out of the way, Ellison. Make no mistake; I will kill your friend." Aldo pressed the point of his knife a little closer to Blair's neck.

Blair felt strangely unafraid. He kept his focus solely on Jem.

Jem could see a red patch forming just above Blair's collarbone. "You won't do that, Aldo. You'll lose your bargaining ploy." He edged closer.

"No nearer." As Aldo tired to pull Blair closer, Blair slumped against him as if about to pass out, causing the Italian to adjust his grip and giving Jem the opening he needed. He was upon Aldo in a moment. Aldo let go of Blair, who staggered to one side. Jowler started barking excitedly and it was all Simon could do to hold on to him to stop the dog from joining in.

Jem was full of fury, beating the man, taking out all his fear and anger over Blair, upon Aldo, and Cecil's Italian agent was no match for Jem. He pulled back his arm one more time, in order to send Aldo into the next world, when a voice called out, "Hold! Let him up, Master Ellison."

It was Robert Cecil.

Aldo smirked at Jem as he slowly climbed to his feet and brushed off the dust from his clothes. "Thank you, my lord. I was just about to arrest these men for assault upon my person." He raised his gloved hand to beckon his men over.

"That will not be necessary, Signor Aldo. Master Ellison is on an assignment for me. Once he has carried out that task, you may finish your own investigation, if her ladyship continues her allegations. As for Mr. Sands," Cecil looked Blair over. "The king has a penchant for him. It would be best if he were not too badly damaged, just before his performance."

"But Lord Salisbury..." Aldo started to object.

"No, Mr. Aldo. You must leave Master Ellison and Mr. Sands to me... for the time being. I hope I make myself clear?"

Aldo reluctantly nodded.

"Good. Then might I suggest you return to your lodging... and take your men with you." The men left the forge, Aldo glaring at Jem and Blair as he traipsed away.

Jem dismissed everyone else as he turned towards his lover, just as Blair asked, "Are you all right?"

Jem gave a little crooked smile. "Shouldn't that be my line?" He began to undo the rope binding Blair's hands.

"I think it is interchangeable." Blair rubbed his sore wrists.

Jem ghosted a finger over Blair's split lip and Blair flinched. "Ouch!"

They'd forgotten Cecil was there. "Gentlemen," he began, "as tender as this scene is, I have only bought you time. Signor Aldo will be pushing for your arrest again very shortly, And if he pushes too hard, it will not be prudent for me to keep you under my employ. I would have to move you abroad... somewhere. For now, I suggest you also return to your accommodation and get some rest. If you wish, I can ask Mistress Howard to take a look at your injuries, Mr. Sands?"

"Thank you, sir, but that will not be necessary. Actors are used to having fists and cabbages thrown at us. There will be remedies in the wagon." If Blair saw Mistress Howard again in this lifetime, it would be too soon! He noticed Jem clenching his jaw as they walked away from the forge. "If you keep doing that, you'll have no teeth left." He lowered his voice as Simon was walking a now calmer Jowler, behind them. "How will you be able to bite and mark me if you have no teeth?" Blair adopted a mournful face. "I will end up with gum marks on my body instead."

Jem made a chuffing noise and then released his tension with a guffaw that started Jowler barking again.

"I'd best get him back to his kennel mates," said Simon. "And you, Blair, should get those bruises seen to!"

"Aye, Simon. See you on the morrow."

"You get your lotions and salves out, my little physician, and I will fetch some warm water from the kitchen kettle," Jem said.

As Jem returned from the kitchen by way of the dark yard, a figure stepped out from the black shadows.

"I'm sorry, Jamie, that it worked out this way. If it's any consolation, it wasn't all an act."

Frances looked as beguiling as she always did, but Jem was in no mood for her games. He laughed bitterly. "Of course it was, Frances. You needed me to blame for your husband, to divert Aldo's attention away from yourself. You are an intelligent woman, I will give you that, but you will be brought to justice."

She shook her head. "Run, Jamie, run before they burn you as a witch. I can provide the means of your escape. I am a wealthy woman. I can afford this much."

"Why would you be so generous?"

"Because you can't win. You have no status, no money. For the sake of the young boy and girl we once were, run."

"I thank ye, but I am going to see this through."

She sighed. "I had a feeling you would."

Just then, the stable door opened and Blair emerged carrying the lantern. Frances stepped back into the shadows and disappeared.

"What was that?"

"An apology, I think." Jem looked into the dark, and then turned towards Blair. "Come now, my little eavesdropper, let us see what damage Aldo and his thugs did to you. And tomorrow it's time I started doing what I am salaried for - investigating."

"Good. Where do we start?"

"The scene of the explosion."

"I don't see what we can find here, the rain washed any trace away." Blair studied the ground doubtfully. His steps were halted by Jem's arm coming up against his chest. "What is it? Do you see something?"

"There, a magpie."

Blair swore and spit three times on the ground. "Best not to tempt the Devil," he said as Jem's eyes followed the bird up into a tree.

"How good are you at climbing trees, Sands?"

Five minutes later and Blair was hanging on to a branch of the tree. "I can't believe I'm doing this," he mumbled, knowing Jem would hear. "I've just darned these stockings."

"You could always remove them," Jem called up.

Blair braved a glance down at his lover. "Yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you? My bare assets on display! I'd have scratches where I couldn't show my mother!"

"It's right there, in the crook of the limb."

"I am not in the mood to have my skull ventilated by some pissed-off magpie!" Blair grumbled. "Heads up, watch whatever it is you saw doesn't fall out on the way down!" He tossed the nest down and carefully made his way back down. Finally back on the ground, he gazed back up at how far he'd been. "Whew! Well? What did you find?"

"It's a jewel," Jem held it up to the light, watching the sun catch it... "from a ring."

"Well it fits. The nest isn't finished and there are bits of material woven in that could have come from the explosion. Is it recognizable enough that we could trace the owner?"

Jem gripped the bright stone tightly. "I know what ring and to whom it belongs. This proves Frances lied. She was here, with Allen, before the explosion." He paused. "Don't say it."

Blair looked up at Jem. "What?"

"You never trusted her and you were right not to. You could say I told you so."

"I won't... but yes, I could."

"Well, don't."

"I won't."

There was a silence where Jem swore he could hear the words in the air. He knew it was unreasonable. He sighed. "You're thinking it, though."

"Yes, I am. But I didn't actually say it." Blair couldn't quite hide his smile, but it faded quickly. "You thought she was your friend. I'm sorry that she let you down. I'm sorry that she hurt you, but I will not weep when we bring her to justice." He looked up at Jem's face. "So what do we do now?"

"Now I pay her a visit and find out what else she lied about."

Blair shook his head. "First I want to tell Cecil, and Aldo. I really want to rub his face in this." Blair rubbed his hands together with such enthusiasm that Jem smiled.

"I can't deny I'd like to see his face when we tell him... but after we see my lord Cecil, I want to go and see Frances."

"I'll come with you."

Jem was about to say no, that it wouldn't be safe when he realised how Blair would take such a comment. He didn't want another argument. "Very well. But I will interview her alone."

Blair nodded. "As you wish; however, if you are with her too long, or I believe you are in trouble, I will come after you. I am your partner. It's my role to watch your back."

Jem felt himself relax and he smiled. "I wouldn't have it any other way, Professor."

Robert Cecil frowned as he heard Jem and Blair out, and then he sent for Signor Aldo. "We will need a confession from her, gentlemen. Nothing else will satisfy the king and her friends." He sighed. "And then watch them run for cover. It will not be a pretty picture."

There was a loud knock on the door and a young servant entered. "There is no sign of the foreign gentleman, my lord; Mary says she saw him going out into the garden towards where the wagon blew up, a little while ago."

Jem cursed. "I thought it was the flowers I smelt. I should have remembered Aldo's perfume."

Blair's eyes widened. "You think he could have heard us?"

"Unlikely. I would have seen him if he got that close, but I held up that stone and he may have recognised it or guessed from whence it came."

"That would mean that he and Frances...." Blair's voice trailed away.

The door burst open to admit a breathless manservant "My Lord, Lady Frances' carriage has been seen well loaded with baggage and heading south."

"So, she's fleeing."

Jem was shaking his head. "Not Frances, she's too clever to cut and run so visibly. My wager is on her still being at home and the carriage just a diversion."

Cecil nodded. "Have someone stop her wagon," he ordered his man. Then he turned to Jem and Blair. "Gentlemen, I concur. You say you want to bring her to justice, Jem, so you shall, but I shall have men at the ready. She will not escape so easily. Let us see if her ladyship is at home."

Jem crept up the stairs in an unnaturally quiet house. His feet on a loose stair caused it to groan, and Frances' voice rang out of her chamber.

"You're back swiftly. I have sent the servants on with the wall hangings and linen. Did you bury the silver where I said? Did you bring the horses round?" She came out of her room carrying loaded saddlebags to see Jem in her doorway. If she was surprised by his presence, she very swiftly recovered.

"You won't need the horses, Frances." She backed back as Jem stepped forward into her room.

"Have you changed your mind about running, Jamie?"

"I know about you and Aldo."

"I don't know anyone called Aldo."

She looked so sincere; Jem could almost believe her, if her heart wasn't beating so wildly.

"I'll take the saddlebags."

She nodded. "Of course you will. I suppose you want half of my wealth."

"No, I'll take it to give to the constable of the parish. You are under arrest for conspiracy and treason towards your spouse."

Frances held the bags towards Jem and as he took them, she pulled a small crossbow out and pointed it at Jem.

"You had that in your hand the whole time, even before you knew it was me in the house. Who was on the other end of this scam, Frances? You didn't really intend to share your wealth did you? Why, Frances? Why did you do it?"

"Why? You ask why, Jamie? You've never had to lie under an old man with wine-laden breath, who sweated like a pig, and had hands like old foul leather! God!" She threw her head back with a brittle laugh. "When he died, I thought, 'I've earned my wealth, now I will take a husband who can give me pleasure!' So what did I choose? A bankrupt knave! He found men with too much time and money on their hands and no more sense than he, convinced them that he'd found Captain Raleigh's City of Gold, and when the whole thing went belly up, he thought I would finance him." She shook her head. "Foolish man, and fool me for ever marrying him."

She smiled cruelly at Jem. "And then you appeared."

"The answer to your prayers."

She nodded. "I'm sorry, Jamie, but you offered a motive for Allen's death that was just too good to resist."

Jem moved a step closer. "You are not going to get away, Frances."

Frances raised the crossbow in her hand. "And neither will you, Jamie. Allen was a better short swordsman, but I find this little custom-made crossbow gives me an advantage."

"I'm sure it does." From downstairs, Jem heard a creak, and, sending out his senses, he noticed a distinctive perfume. He stepped in front of the doorway, blocking Frances' view of the stairs. "So you and Aldo will ride off, happy and wealthy?"

She laughed out loud. "Aldo? No, he is no longer of use to me. I have property in the Low Countries. I shall retire, a sadly twice-widowed gentlewoman, dedicating her remaining years to living quietly and modestly." She aimed her bow to fire.

Jem heard a soft sound and, instinctively, he threw himself back against the wall.

Time seemed to slow down. He didn't see the arrow and the dagger cross each other, only that one minute Frances was standing. The next her face changed to one of surprise and she crumbled, as her husband had, a scarlet stain tarnishing her silken gown around the hilt of a dagger.

Jem spared one glance at the fallen figure of Raimondo Aldo, an arrow implanted deep within his chest, before he went to Frances. He knelt down. She was barely alive.

"If you... loved me," she gasped, "you could have let me walk away."

Jem shook his head, supporting her upper body with his arm. "Don't.... Just... breathe, Frances, breathe."

Her head fell to one side and her eyes closed.

Blair ran into the room, closely followed by Cecil, Simon and a number of Cecil's hirelings.

Jem was whispering repeatedly, "Frances, Frances." He bent his head to listen to her chest.

"I want everyone out, save Master Ellison and Mr. Sands," Cecil ordered. "Everyone else wait downstairs."

Blair knelt beside his lover, dismissing everyone. "Jem, are you all right?"

Jem stood. "Yes."

"Should I call for the doctor?" Cecil asked, looking at the bodies.

"I don't think that will be necessary, my lord." Jem walked over to the window and leaned his hands against the glass.

Cecil had the bodies removed, all the while Jem stood staring out of the glass and Blair stood waiting.

Finally, the room was cleared and just Cecil and Blair remained with Jem.

"So... was Frances shooting at you or at Aldo?" Blair tentatively asked.

Jem sighed. "I don't know, I don't know if I ever will, this side of Heaven."

"We should leave this house." Cecil looked around with revulsion.

"Yes," said Blair. "Jem? You coming?"

Jem nodded. "I'll follow you. Give me a moment?"

Blair allowed Cecil to precede him down the stairs. He promised himself that he would give Jem time to grieve for Frances, however long it took.

It was a subdued crowd that sat to watch Master Shakespeare's theatrical presentation a couple of days later. The actors knew they had their work cut out to entertain the nobility, but they were ready for the challenge.

Jem and Blair hadn't made love since Frances died. There was an underlying tension between them which neither man seemed able to resolve. At least they were still sleeping together, something in which both men found a degree of comfort.

Cecil had received their full reports, carefully copied by his secretary on the smoothest parchment with the thickest lampblack ink - and probably to be put away somewhere never to see the light of day again - and he seemed satisfied with the information. All allegations against Frances, and Jem, had been dropped. The crown would take both Frances' and Allen's lands and distribute them as the King saw best.

If only everything could be solved so neatly, Jem thought.

He watched the king from the side of the makeshift stage. Now that the situation with Frances and Allen was resolved, Jem took more notice of his majesty.

James, he noted, was slim, Jem would go so far as to say thin, his clothes designed to conceal his frame, but the effect was wasted; his face and skinny stocking-clad legs showed his true form. The king's eyes were deep-set, his reddish beard and moustache well trimmed and he was wearing a red velvet coat with a row of gold stars trimming it. He was talking to Cecil who stood beside him, yet as soon as Blair made his appearance, James' eyes never left the stage.

Jem's blood ran cold. It took an effort for him to return his attention to the performance.

The actors had quickly slipped away after their play to change, leaving Master Shakespeare to take their commendations. Jem sought out Blair, who was pulling off his character's wig and shaking out his hair.

"I truly hate these things. You never know what may be crawling in them!"

His smile belied his words and Jem grinned. "There is something to be said for short hair, my little spaniel." He ruffled Blair's hair up and his lover, eyes shining, hit his hand away.

"Instead of making this mop worse, why don't you undo this dress for me? I feel in need of asserting my virility." Blair turned around presenting his back to Jem and lifted up his hair to expose the high neckline of his gown.

"Indeed? And how do you plan to do this?" Jem made short work of the buttons at the back of the costume.

Blair's voice dropped so that only Jem could hear it. "I was thinking of you and I slipping away somewhere, you bent over a tree stump or something more comfortable and I ploughing your arse for a while." Only the Sentinel could hear the uncertainty in Blair's words.

"And you think I would agree to this?" he asked.

Blair turned around. "If you are not begging me to fuck you by the time I am halfway through with you, then I am doing something wrong," he said huskily.

Jem gave his lover an exasperated look and was about to ask, "where and when," when the curtained partition was pulled back and the king entered with his entourage.

"Bravo, gentlemen. A fine performance!"

"Thank you, sire," Robin practically simpered. "Your presence inspired us."

He'll go far, Blair thought.

"And you, Mr. Sands, dae ye not find playing such a woman a difficult task?" the king eagerly asked Blair.

Blair was saved from answering by Will Shakespeare. "He has played many such roles well, your majesty."

"Indeed? Then ah must visit yer theatre, Master Shakespeare."

"We would be honored, sire." Will bowed.

The king turned back to Blair. "Ah would be pleased to discuss yir performance with you, Mr. Sands, if ye have the time?"

Blair felt Jem go very still beside him. "I am at your disposal, your majesty." Blair bowed.

"You can't do this!" Jem's voice carried a deal of anguish, all the more potent for having to keep his voice low. They had been shown into an anteroom and feared that they only had a few minutes before one of the King's attendants came for Blair.

"What choice do I have? I'm caught holding the ears of a wolf! If I don't go, Catherine Howard and through her, Cecil, will hold it agan us forever more. I've turned the problem over and over in my mind but I just cannot think of an excuse to be released that will not backfire on us. Do you really think I want this, Jem? You are the only man who has touched me in a long while. Your hands are the only ones I want on my body."

Jem couldn't stand the pain on Blair's face and he pulled him into a hug. He buried his face in Blair's sweet smelling hair and tried to block out the hall and its memories, letting the smells of smoke, stale sweat, flea-ridding herbs and stale perfumes be replaced by the pleasant scent of his lover.

Blair wrapped his arms around Jem and hung on tight. "It'll just be one night, Jem, a few short hours. This night with the king means nothing. In the morning all will be as it was - if we let it." He looked up into Jem's face, begging Jem with his eyes, to accept his words and make them true.

Jem stroked his lover's hair. "It will be a long night. Just..." he hesitated, unsure of what to ask of Blair. "Just make sure you come back to me, Professor."

"Where else would I go?" Blair pulled away a little. "I tell you, we are acting as though the business with the king is important. This..." he pulled Jem close again, holding him tight. "This is what is important, you and I, the work we do together, the pleasure we give one another, the love we share. Everything else is just... frippery and flea bites."

"Frippery and flea bites.... Right." Jem heard the sound of footsteps and he reluctantly released Blair, brushing a hand over his hair just as the door opened to admit Mistress Catherine, a frown upon her face at seeing Jem.

"It is time for you to leave, Master Ellison. Mr. Sands and I have work to do." She ushered in a small group of maids, each carrying a box and then pushed Jem out of the door.

"Remember, Jem. Frippery and flea bites," Blair said, softly.

The next few minutes were worse than any rehearsal for any play as Blair was perfumed and his hair fluffed up, told what to say and what the king would expect. Catherine tutted about the cut on Blair's lip, and put some salve on it. Then she stepped back. She nodded, approvingly, and told her women to leave.

"There are some things you may wish to know about what the king likes, that I could not discuss in front of others." She took the hairbrush in her hand and used it to emphasize each point. "He prefers his male companions not to wear earrings." The hairbrush hit the palm of her hand. "He recognizes when something is nought but flattery, but still likes to hear it. He likes his companions to think of him as a wise councillor, or mentor - in the fashion of the old Greeks, and..." She paused, her face turning pink... "he will be the sword and you the sheath. I hope I make myself clear?"

Blair saw the blush that Mistress Howard obviously tried to fight and felt his anger fade, just a little. "You explain very clearly indeed, Madam." He stood. "Now can we get this over and done with?"

She straightened up. "In a minute or two, yonder door will open." She nodded towards a non-descript door in the far wall. "And you will step through. Once inside, it is your duty to please his majesty in what ever way he requires, remember that and you will do well. You may even enjoy the time you spend with him." Catherine moved to leave, but then stopped, her hand on the doorknob. "We all have our roles to play, Mr. Sands. Roles that we wish would go to someone else, but we do what our duty tells us we must, and pray that God in His wisdom will, one day, forgive our sins and the pain we cause our fellow man. May He keep you safe."

Blair hardly heard the last part of her speech, or her leaving. His focus was on the door, half willing it to open, half praying that it would remain shut.

My own command performance, he thought. I hope I please my audience - my audience with the king! Why won't it open? I told Jem this wasn't important, but this could be the most important night of my life. It could corrupt what I have with Jem, ruin everything we have. It's just a... romp. It means nothing. I wish I believed that. I wish it were the morrow and this was just a bad memory.

The door silently opening, caught him unawares. He swallowed, trying to ease his dry throat. Well, that's my cue, now for my performance. Break a leg, Blair, and he stepped through the door.

The room he entered was surprisingly small, though most of the space was taken up with a large four-poster bed, hung with fine appliquéd curtains. A rich Turkish carpet lay between that and a fashionable fireplace. Two upholstered chairs sat to each side of the roaring fire. The scent of bees-wax candles and good oak permeated the room. It spoke of intimacy and wealth.

"Will ye shut the door, Mr. Sands?"

The instruction made Blair jump and he hastened to do as he was asked, with the thought that he had just shut the cage door, with himself on the inside. He stepped further into the room and bowed low. "Your Majesty."

"Come forward, lad. Since the weather broke, it's turned bluidy well chilly a' night."

Blair hesitated. It took him a moment to understand the king's Scottish accent, then he did as he was told, standing stiffly before the king.

"Sit, lad. Here, there's nae need to be scared." The king put his hand on Blair's shoulder and squeezed, pushing Blair gently, but firmly, down onto one of the chairs. "So... tell me aboot yerself."

"I..." Blair faltered. Somehow, he didn't think the king wanted to know about Naomi and her occupation. Sons of 'Winchester's Geese' were unlikely to be welcomed into the king's bedchamber, but then, he would have sworn that neither were actors. "What would your majesty like to know?"

"There is much ah would like ta know. For example, why did ye become an actor?"

Again, Blair was at a loss. What did the king know about having to work in order to eat? His face must have shown his confusion because the king sat down opposite him and laid a warm hand on Blair's knee. The gesture took Blair by surprise, even though he knew some such thing would happen and he jerked away so fast, his chair nearly toppled over.

"Och, man! You are so skittish! Whit are we going to do with you! Ah dinna intend to hurt ye." King James sat back. "I'm told that you are familiar with the pleasure of men. Is that na true?"

"I have some knowledge," Blair hedged, trying to relax.

"And you were told what was expected of you?"

"Yes, your majesty." Blair studied his clasped hands.

"Then what, pray, is the problem, man?"

"There is someone, sire, important to me."

"More important than yir king?"

Blair didn't dare answer.

"And this would be Master Ellison, nae doot? A man who has neither money nor power."

"No, sire, he has neither money nor power."

"Do ye find him comely?"

Blair smiled. "I think so. Though he professes irritation when I tell him so."

The king's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Did he advise you to come ta me?"

"No, sire! He... wishes you had never noticed me."

"Possessive, is he?"

"We have had discussions over the topic," Blair prevaricated.

"And ye care a great deal for this man."

"Aye, sire. I do."

"And he for you?"

Blair nodded.

"Ah hear ladies o' the court dismiss romantic love as mere piffle. Ah, mysel, hay only seen it a couple o' times." He looked hard at Blair. "You dinna wan ta be here, lad, de ye?"

Blair was silent a moment too long.

"Ah see." The king said in a flat voice. He stood and began to walk across to the door.

"Sire, please, I..." Blair wasn't sure what to say. If he thought upsetting Robert Cecil could be dangerous, upsetting the king would be a thousand times worse!

He fell to one knee, his head bowed and pale face hidden by his hair. "Your majesty," he swallowed, "I am your most obedient servant."

A long moment followed with Blair trying not to panic, then the king's hand stroked over Blair's hair, caressing his head and Blair had to force himself not to pull away or tremble at the gesture.

"Ah, ma bonny, brave lad... if ah were a more unscrupulous prince..." He paused. Then, "Up, Mr. Sands. Go back to your husband wi' ma blessing."

Blair stayed still, not believing his ears.

"Ah said, up, man. Leave me, ere ah change ma mind."

Blair rose swiftly and started for the door, and then he hesitated. "Sire," he began.

King James was standing looking into the fire. He glanced up.

"There are those who will comment on me leaving your presence so swiftly. They will think I displeased you," Blair continued.

"D'ye think ah care aboot what lesser men think?" the king's voice was dangerously quiet.

Blair froze. "Forgive me, your grace," he stammered "but they would take out their petty ire on Jem and me, if they even suspect that I... that we didn't...." his voice trailed away.

"An' ye think ah would talk o' this?" James said, angrily.

"No, no sire, but..."

James' eyes narrowed as he considered Blair's words, then he turned back to the fire. "It is a terrible place to find yersel, where foul knaves have great influence over yer life and ye hae no right of appeal." His words were quiet and he seemed to lose himself in thought for a long moment. Then the king straightened and turned towards Blair. "Can ye play chess, Mr. Sands?"

"Chess, sire?" Blair frowned at the sudden apparent change in subject.

"Aye, man, chess, the game of angels and devils. Would ye care for a game or two? T'will pass a time and put any dogs off the scent." He grinned and winked.

Blair slowly grinned. "I would be honored to play chess with you, your majesty."

"Good!" The king rubbed his hands together and then dragged a small table over. He opened a drawer under the top to pull out a chess set and board. "We shall see how well ye play this game." He began to set out the pieces. "Ah offer you the white, Mr. Sands. Mak' yer move carefully, and be sure, ah tak' nae prisoners." His eyes twinkled.

Blair laughed in relief and made his first move.

An hour later and both men had become engrossed in the game. The king had rush-lights and more candles lit to add extra light to the board. Dark red shadows danced across the painted wall cloths in time with the flickering of the flames. The king had poured them both some fine, ruby-red wine, choosing not to summon another servant to do it for them. But neither man had taken more than a couple of sips. Their concentration was all upon the chessboard.

Blair picked up his bishop to move it and hesitated. He found himself wishing that he'd paid more attention to his sea-faring uncle when the man had tried to teach Blair to play the game with intuition. He ran his thumb over the top of the chess piece, thinking how much Jem would enjoy the smoothness of the carving. He tapped his lip with his finger and took a glance at his opponent then quickly looked down again. In the red glow from the fire and the fluttering candle light, James looked alert and dangerous, like some incubus out to lure Blair away from his Jem. The king's dark eyes shone, his face was half in shadow and appeared more angular, his lips within his beard looked redder, his teeth as he grinned, whiter. Blair felt a flush of heat that was nothing to do with the fire.

He could admit to himself that he had a certain draw towards the king. Power, it seemed, was indeed a powerful attraction, and James was intelligent and not unpleasant to look at, even with his crooked leg... but he wasn't Jem. Images of his lover, laughing... relaxed... serious... in ecstasy with lust... flew through Blair's mind. Then, unbidden, came the picture of Jem with Frances in the garden. He fiercely forced that image away and moved his chess piece on the board.

The king chuckled and pounced on Blair's bishop with his knight.

Blair sighed inwardly. He was cornered. He had perhaps two moves left, but either way the king would win this game. He had no choice but to yield. He toppled his king over.

King James picked up his glass and stood from the table, stretching his legs. He smiled with a satisfied air. "Well, Blair, ah think we hath given yer watchdogs long enough to think nae ill of either of us. Ye may leave now, if ye still wishes."

"Thank you, sire," Blair stood, "for the game and your kindness." He studiously ignored the desire that still lingered in the king's eyes.

"Your Jamie is a lucky man."

"No, sire, 'tis I who am lucky." Blair bowed and moved towards the door.

"Wait." James moved swiftly across the room. "Ah think yir makeup needs a retouch for you to carry on this role. If ye will permit me?" Not waiting for Blair's answer, the king ran his fingers through Blair's hair, tousling it a bit. He stepped back to take a good look at Blair, his hands loosely on Blair's shoulders. "Better, but one more thing..." He pulled Blair to him and gave him a hard kiss on the lips that had Blair gasp in shock and pull away, his eyes wide and his heart pounding in fear.

"Forgive me, lad, but now you look well used an' ready for yon audience."

Blair swallowed and laughed nervously. "Your majesty is too generous."

"Nae problem." The king slipped a ring from the little finger of his left hand. "If ever Jamie Ellison harms thee or ye need a king's protection, return this tae me, and ah will do what ah can." He pressed the ring into Blair's hand.

Blair nodded, speechless, and reached behind him for the doorknob. As he slipped out and closed the door behind him, he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.

Though very late, there were some courtiers standing outside watching and he ducked his head and made his escape, with rapid steps, down the stairs and out of the house, then through the dark, quiet village. He kept on walking at a fast pace until he reached the tree line and then he started to run, dodging around trees and running ever faster and faster.

Finally out of breath, he stopped, leaned up against one tree in a hollow and slowly sank to the ground. The stars above blinked at him. The air in that depression in the ground was warm.

He opened his clenched fist and gazed at the dim circle that sat there. Well, Blair, he thought, you got your gift from the king, not quite the way you envisioned it! He chuckled, feeling almost light headed with relief. He slipped it into his purse and let out a breath. Nervous exhaustion over came him and he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

He awoke with the dawn chorus, feeling hungry but more at ease than he had for a while. He stood and brushed the leaves and damp from his clothes then he started to walk back towards the river, thinking to have some of 'Adam's ale' and enjoy the sense of freedom and reprieve. It came as no surprise to him to find Jem standing by the water, skimming stones on the surface. Somehow he knew Jem would be there.

Blair bent to pick up a suitable stone. "It's all in the wrist action," he said. "If you angle it, thus, you get more spin." He demonstrated and his pebble bounced three times before it sank with barely a ripple.

Jem watched the stone and as it disappeared beneath the water, the energy seemed to leach out from him and he sat down, heavily, on the grassy bank. Blair joined him, watching as Jem aimlessly pulled at the grass between his feet, staring off into the middle distance and not saying a word.

The silence seemed as oppressive as the heat haze that built up over the water. For a while, Blair sat and watched buzzing insects as they danced over the river.

Finally, he felt he had to speak. "Will you talk to me?" He got no answer. "I know we have had a difficult time here, but it would help to talk things through."

Just when Blair thought he would have to resort to some stronger persuasion, Jem sighed. He stood up, gazing at the river.

"Was he..." Jem's voice was ragged. "Was he better than I? Did he please you more?"

Blair frowned. It was a measure of his anxiety that he had to sift through Jem's words to work out just what he was asking, then Blair shook his head in exasperation. "God's blood, Jem! When will you get over your insecurities!" He took a deep breath. "Yes, the king was better than you... at chess!"

"Chess?"

"Chess."

"You played chess with the king?" Jem was frowning.

"I played chess with the king, for what I found to be a pleasant evening, yes."

"Not... you know?"

"No, not 'you know'. Not that he didn't desire me, but he knew I was unwilling and he didn't desire to coerce me. He gave me this ring." Blair showed Jem the gold circlet he held in his hand.

"He gave you this, just for playing chess with him?"

"Jem, are you really that dense, or is it just an act!"

Jem just glared at him. "So where were you all night?"

Blair felt himself grow angry. He was tired of staring up at his lover. He got to his feet. "I know it sounds unlikely, but I fell asleep."

"Where? In the king's chamber?" Jem's voice grew louder.

"No. Not in the king's chamber. For your information, I fell asleep in the woods!" Blair lowered his voice. "You know what I'm like, Jem. I can sleep standing up."

Jem's silence spoke volumes to Blair.

"Jem, I wouldn't lie to you. I hope you know me better than that. Besides, you, more than anyone, would know if I were untruthful."

Jem nodded. "I do know. I just..." his voice trailed off and he looked away.

Blair suddenly had an empathy. "Ah, my Jem. I too know how sharp jealousy's teeth are."

Jem tuned his head towards Blair. "You had nothing to fear from Frances, Professor."

"And you have nothing to fear from the king."

"He gave you an expensive gift, Blair, something I could never afford. You deserve more than I could give you."

"Is this trinket what is bothering you?" Blair held up the ring between his finger and thumb. "Well then, I want no more of it!" He threw the ring as far as he could into the river where it sank with barely a ripple.

Both men stood in stunned silence as Blair's actions sunk in.

"You threw the king's ring..."

"Yes." Blair was still staring at the spot in the river. Sudden movement beside him brought him out of his stupor. Jem had stripped down to his shirt and was wading into the water. Blair's mouth fell open. Jem reached the area where the ring sank. The water was waist high. He took a deep breath and dived under.

Blair stepped to the edge of the riverbank. "Jem..." he gasped. "What fool thing..." his hands clenching. He edged closer still, prepared to climb into the river.

Suddenly Jem broke through the surface of the water, the ring held high in his hand, catching the sunlight for a moment. Jem shook his head, shaking the shining water from his hair and eyes. He waded out, grinning like a mad man and Blair found himself laughing. "You are totally insane, James Ellison!" he declared.

"Nevertheless, here," Jem held out the ring. "You may need this one day."

Blair looked from the ring to Jem's face. "If I accept it, I accept it as a gift from you, washed clean of all other associations, because only a sentinel, or a fish, could find it in water that deep... and you are no fish!"

Jem took Blair's hand in his own and studied Blair's fingers. "The king has narrow fingers compared to yours. What if we have it altered into an earring?"

Blair smiled and he curled his fingers around Jem's hand. "Those gifts which the giver makes precious are always the most welcome," he borrowed from Latin. "Do you know what I would like right now?"

"Let me guess. Me bent over yonder tree stump?"

"Close... but I'd rather that I was bent over that stump, and you buried inside me. Could we do that?"

"Yes, Professor, we could indeed." Jem bent his head to kiss Blair passionately, his hands going straight into Blair's hair, tangling his fingers in the soft curls and massaging Blair's scalp.

Blair pulled Jem closer, his hands tracing the contours of Jem's back through his wet shirt. One hand found its way to Jem's head, and pulling Jem even closer, Blair took control of the kiss, deepening it, moving Jem's head to a better angle. He swallowed Jem's whimpers of pleasure and shared his breath. The ring dropped to the grass, forgotten.

Finally, the lack of air forced them apart.

Jem rested his head against Blair's.

"I need you, need you so very much," Blair whispered, his hands clenching and unclenching in Jem's shirt.

"And you have me. I am not complaining, but originally you expressed a wish to take me."

"I know. And I apologise for changing my mind, but I want you inside me, Jem, I..." Blair's voice trailed away, unable to articulate why he wanted this.

"I understand." Jem kissed him again, pulling gently on Blair's lower lip. "Sometimes what you think you want is not what you need." He touched his lips to Blair's again. "And vis versa." He kissed Blair's jaw and worked his way across to Blair's ear, tugging at the lobe with his teeth. "I'm glad you had the earring removed. It means I can do this." He nibbled at that bit of flesh, causing Blair to moan. That ear rarely got the attention the other did. Jem did not like the taste of the earring Blair wore there.

Blair's hands held onto his lover's broad shoulders.

Jem moved down to Blair's collarbone where his shirt was undone, planting little sucking kisses, listening to his lover's soft moans. He deftly undid the ribbons on the dove-grey linen jacket Mistress Howard had given Blair, caressing his lover's chest through his shirt, moving back to kiss Blair's lips as he stroked the hardening nipples, and swallowing Blair's passion-filled gasps. Jem's hands moved down further to the fastening of Blair's blue breeches. These were more of a struggle and Jem had to break off kissing in order to see what he was doing.

Blair helped by unfastening his belt holding his purse and dagger, letting them fall where they would and pulled Jem back into a kiss, his hands cupping Jem's bare arse.

Hands now fumbling, Jem finally managed to undo the two buttons holding Blair's fly together and slipped his hand inside.

Blair moaned as Jem's hand wrapped around his erect cock. "Sweet Lord... yes...." He closed his eyes.

Jem nuzzled at his neck as he pulled Blair's shirt out of his pants. "I am pleased that your seamstress prefers to use buttons instead of lacing."

"Mmm." Blair arched his neck. "Yes, lacing takes too long to unfasten," he murmured. "Actors need to slip out of their clothes... ohhh... there..." he panted... "quickly... between scenes. "Yes, oh, yes... just... yes..."

Jem grinned around the nipple he was worshipping. Blair's shirt was pushed up and his hands were on Jem's head, holding him in place, and then guiding him to the other - thus far neglected - bud. At times like this, Jem's better-than-average senses were a true delight and a boon. On the other hand, the noises Blair made could force Jem's own completion from him, and that was not the plan.

He grasped the bottom of Blair's shirt and Blair obligingly lifted his arms so it could be removed. His hands went to Jem's neck and he kissed Jem gently on the lips before moving to Jem's jaw and then neck. Jem held him close, then loosened Blair's hands so he could again worship his lover's chest.

Slowly, achingly slowly to Blair, Jem worked his way down his lover's body, despite Blair's comments to hurry up.

He paused at Blair's ribs and Blair opened his eyes.

Jem kissed the darkened skin where Blair had been punched by Aldo's hired men. "Before you joined up with me, the worst you would have gotten was a paper cut from one of the scripts."

Blair snorted. "I'm an actor, Jem, remember? The son of a lowborn, Jewish prostitute.
I have been spit on, received a good drubbing, and been cursed, in my time. I do not enjoy having pain inflicted upon me, but I would endure that and much more to keep you safe from harm."

Jem shook his head even as he knelt to kiss Blair's navel. "You are worth so much more, to me."

Blair stroked his hand gently over Jem's hair. "And you to me, Jem." He bent down and lifted Jem's chin so that he could kiss Jem's lips. "No one could ever imagine how much you mean to me." He suddenly laughed. "It must be something in the forest air that has me spouting poetry."

"The air, Professor? Not my ministrations?"

"Oh, your sense of self is inflated enough without me adding to it," Blair teased.

"Well, if I am not inspiring you, then maybe I should leave off...." Jem made to stand.

Blair's eyes narrowed. "If you wish to stick your sugar stick where the sun never shines, I would, wholeheartedly, suggest you continue."

"If you put it that way..." Jem smiled and pulled Blair's thighs nearer. Blair's engorged cock was leaking a pearl drop of semen. Jem poked out his tongue and just licked that, smacking his lips. Blair let out a shaky sigh.

Wasting no further time, Jem wrapped one hand around the base of Blair's cock and took the head into his mouth.

"Oh... my... God, Jem!"

Jem pulled away from Blair's cock with a chuckle. "Are you branding me a false god, Professor?"

Blair's voice was husky with lust. "False? Never, Jem, but when you do that with your tongue..."

"This?" Jem put actions to his word, and ran his tongue across the base of the head on the underside of Blair's cock, not needing his enhanced senses to judge just where Blair really enjoyed the sensation. Blair's verbal encouragement and thickening shaft were all the information Jem needed.

"Oh... yes. Strewth! Yes..."

Jem placed his hands on Blair's arse, pulling him closer, allowing Blair to use his mouth. Jem's finger tapped against Blair's hole, and Blair was coming, gasping Jem's name.

His legs turned to the constancy of honey, and Jem held him as he slid down to rest his head against his lover's shoulder, his legs straddling Jem's.

It took him a few minutes for his breathing to return to normal, minutes when Jem just waited and held him.

"My turn now," Blair said, as he roused himself. "Let's remove the shirt from your handsome body."

Jem had to admire Blair's single mindedness. The man went to work with a determination that did him credit. In a very short time, Jem was as naked as Blair was and was slowly being driven insane with passion by his consummate partner. Every touch, every kiss Blair made on Jem's body spoke of love and desire. Jem could still taste Blair's come in his mouth. The soft words of passion his lover was expressing between kisses, excited Jem. The smell of Blair's arousal, the sheen of sweat upon his skin... they were all pushing Jem, driving him to lose control, forcing him to lay this man down and take him, now.

Jem suddenly came to his senses and gently but firmly, pushed Blair away. "God. Blair, stop, please stop. I want to, I really want to, but I won't hurt you and we have nothing here to ease the way and I will not take you like some animal."

Blair rested his head against Jem's. "Yes, we have. In the purse on my belt."

Jem was puzzled, but he stretched his hand out and snagged the discarded item. He undid the buckle and pulled out a small glass bottle. "Looks expensive," he said.

"It's what Mistress Howard gave me for... you know."

Jem unstopped it and took a little sniff. "Smells sweet."

Blair chuckled. "I don't think you are meant to drink it."

Jem put the stopper back and took another look. "This is worth a pretty penny."

"All the more reason to put it to a good use. As in, right now." He pressed his lips against Jem's, licking over Jem's mouth, sucking at Jem's tongue as his lover opened his mouth. He clutched Jem's head, demanding Jem give up control, grinding his groin against Jem's.

Jem knew he was going to lose control of his passion. "I'm sorry," he ground. "I have to have you, now. Next time, next time we will go more slowly, but now..."

Blair at once lay down on the grass, pulling his knees back to his chest. Jem groaned at the sight, and almost dropped the bottle as he tried to dribble some oil over his fingers. He wouldn't hurry this act, no matter what he'd told Blair - was it just a few days before? He pushed one finger past the muscle, and felt Blair's body grip tight. He added a second finger and began to widen the opening, adding more oil and not caring as the bottle fell over and spilled in the grass.

Blair groaned and pushed against the finger stretching him. "God, Jem. Please, I need this too. Do it!"

Jem wasted no more time. He slicked up his cock with his hands and lined up with Blair's spasming hole. One thrust and he breached the muscle, his hands gripping Blair's thighs tight enough to leave bruises. "So...tight, so good."

"Oh, yes... ugh..." Blair moaned, his head rolling back, as he felt Jem's cock stretch him wider. He pulled his legs further open, trying to get as much of Jem inside him.

Jem tried to control his thrusting. "You feel incredible! I can't... hold... out...."

Every time Jem pushed in, he hit Blair's pleasure spot, but it was the sight of Jem barely holding on that made Blair hold off his climax. "Jem," he breathed, "want you. Love you. Need you to come now, Jem!" He squeezed the muscles around Jem's cock.

Jem grunted, shuddered, opened eyes he didn't know he'd closed - and fell apart, filling his lover with his seed. It was only then that Blair let go of his own control, and for the second time that day, the world seemed to explode for him.

"I could roll over and go to sleep right now." Blair's stomach rumbled loudly. "But it seems I need feeding first."

Jem laughed, but then quickly sobered. "Our friends will think the worst of you. That you are one of the king's catamites and no better than a whore."

"Yes," Blair said, sadly. "Simon, Joseph and Henri, I value their opinion; I would like to tell them the truth. As long as they and you and I, know the truth, the rest of my fellow actors can go hang." He got to his feet a little shakily. "Now, shall we go in search of some food? It's been a while since I ate, and my stomach thinks my throat has been cut!"

Jem chuckled. "I think first we should get cleaned up and dressed." He noticed the ring shining on the grass and retrieved it, placing it back in Blair's purse.

The troupe was loading up the wagon when the two men arrived. The actors tensed up at first as soon as they saw Jem and Blair, but once they noticed the two men smiling and clowning around, they relaxed.

True to his word, as soon as possible, Blair got Simon, Henri and Joseph alone to tell them the truth. They all looked uncomfortable when Blair approached them. To say they were relieved that Blair would not be leaving the troupe was an understatement.

Joseph smiled broadly. "I'm glad for you, son, that the king did not compromise your virtue. You are worth so much more than a prince's plaything." The other two men agreed, but Henri added that he was a little disappointed he didn't know someone who had had the ear of the king, not to mention the king's sugar stick! Joseph glared at him, but Blair just laughed.

Jem entered just as they were leaving the stable. The three men smiled and patted him on the shoulder or back as they left. Blair came over. "You heard?"

"Yes." Jem smiled. "I've just come from the bar where the others are."

"What are they saying?"

"Well, Robin seems unsure whether or not to fawn upon you. He asked me if you truly spent the night at the hunting lodge with the king."

"What did you say?"

"That it is none of my business."

Blair snorted. "I wager that went down well! Methinks poor Robin will be watching his place for a while."

"Which will do him good. Maybe teach him some manners."

"Ah, my hero! Defending me, if not my reputation. What did Master Shakespeare say?"

"That he is pleased you are staying with us and hopes that we have some more royal patronage in the future."

Blair huffed. "As long as he doesn't ask me to use my influence, or I shall have to tell some tall stories."

"Which will not be easy for one as short as you!" Jem teased.

"Hey! I am only short to those with their heads in the clouds, like you, Simon and Joseph. In fact I would say that when we are a-bed, I am just the right size, wouldn't you?" He leered at his lover.

Jem laughed. "I would say we fit perfectly, Professor. Now how say you to a little manual work... helping me saddle my horse?"

"Oh, the things I do for love!"

After all that had transpired, the troupe felt homesick for the hustle and bustle of the city, and they were glad to return to London and their home theatre. His Majesty and his court waited until the end of summer before they returned to the capital.

One of the first things the king did once settled again was to award those he favoured. Amongst these was Sir Matthew Rafe, now promoted to Deputy Lieutenant of the district of Southwark, a position that gained him a higher salary and one that would also enable him to give Jem better pay.

Jem and Blair were waiting outside the main audience chamber in the Palace of Westminster to congratulate him when a steward tapped on Jem's shoulder. "Sir? His Majesty would like a moment of your time. If you would come with me?"

Blair and Jem exchanged looks, one worried, the other offering reassurance he didn't really feel.

Jem waited in a small antechamber, trying not to think dark thoughts. It wasn't easy. The servants, standing by the door in their royal livery, didn't say a word and Jem felt they were there to intimidate him. Finally, just when he was beginning to feel uncomfortably restless, the door opened and the king strolled in. Jem dropped to one knee.

"Master Ellison. Ah'm sorry to keep ye waiting, affairs of state, ye ken. Stand, man. I want to see yir face, not yir head. Would ye care for a glass o' wine?"

He didn't wait for an answer, but sent one of the waiting servants for two glasses.

"You'll be wondering why ah sent for ye. The truth o' the matter is that I ne'er did reward for yer service and ah think it's aboot time I did." The servant returned with a tray and two glasses of wine. He placed the tray down, picked up a glass and took a sip before handing it to the king, with a bow from the waist, and then handed Jem the other glass.

"There may be those who would think returning Mr. Sands to ye untouched would be reward enough, but..." The king crossed to another table where lay a small carved wooden box. "Ah canna give ye a rank, such a thing wouldna be allowed, but ah can give thee this." Inside the box was a brooch that the king carefully pinned to Jem's doublet. "It came from the New World. The savages there value the form as much as we might value the material it is made from."

The brooch was a relief of a magnificent, large cat - one more elongated than an ordinary feline - carved from obsidian and set with blue stones for its eye. It seemed frozen in the act of leaping.

"They call it a jaguar, a form of panther, as they have in Africa, and think o' it as a protector. Ah think t'will suit thee." He patted Jem's chest. "But if I ever hear of you harming one hair o' Mr. Sands' head, none of this world's protectors will save ye. Do ye ken me?" His eyes bore into Jem's.

"Sire," Jem began, "nothing you could do to me would be as severe as that I would do to myself. Blair is... simply my life."

The king's eyes softened. "'Tis well then. Now go. I believe his grace, the Earl of Salisbury intends to use yer services. There are traitors aboot who plan to blow us all to Kingdom come!"

Jem bowed low and backed out of the room, the servants opening the door to allow him to exit.

Blair came over as soon as Jem stepped back into the gallery. "Well?"

Jem fingered the brooch.

"From the king?" Blair asked, his eyes widening. "That is indeed a fine gift, Jem."

"Ho! Ellison, Sands! To me!" Cecil's voice rang across the chamber.

"Now what?"

"Now we have to go sniffing out traitors, it seems. Down in the dark and gloomy dungeon," Jem said, wiggling his fingers at Blair.

"Is that supposed to shake my bones, Master Ellison?"

"No, it's supposed to stir you into action, Mr. Sands. Now, let's go to it!" With one hand on his partner's back, Jem steered Blair along to their next assignment.

(Author's notes: Prostitutes in the London bough of Southwark were known as 'Winchester Geese' as they were, at one time, charged rent by the Bishop of Winchester, but were denied burial in consecrated ground.

Drubbing means a severe thrashing, or beating.