Perfect Shadows

chapter 4

Henry Wriothesley, Earl of Southampton, eyed the dark figure shadowing the Queen for a moment before wandering off in search of Essex, his thoughts chaotic. They had received the invitation—the summons rather, from Almsbury that afternoon, and even given Roger’s perpetually sullen and bellicose mood of late, had felt the demand arrogant in the extreme, although Essex had overreacted, in Hal’s opinion. After all, it was he, not Robin, whom the prince had disarmed with a lazy grace that was the purest form of insult, and not once, but twice. Even then, though sorely vexed, Hal had found the man as disturbingly attractive as he was profoundly aggravating.

He located Robin closeted with his stepfather Blount and old Selby, and leant against the wall, waiting. “He’s here,” he announced laconically during a lull in the conversation, then drifted over to the table to pour some wine. The three were looking at him expectantly, so he raised his cup with an exaggerated flourish. “Her Majesty’s sinister Shadow, even now,” he said, and drained it, watching Essex’s reaction over the cup’s rim with an interest that was more than a little tinged with malice. Robin leapt to his feet, knocking the stool sideways into the fireplace. Blount swore and pulled it away, using it as an excuse not to look at his stepson, while Lord Selby flushed and licked at lips gone suddenly dry. Essex, by force of will, regained his control.

“Is he, by God,” was all he said before striding from the room, followed seconds later by the others.

No one could have staged a scene more carefully to goad Essex than the one that met his eye. Kryštof was leaning sideways against the back of Elizabeth’s chair, toying with her ruff and jewelry, whispering in her ear. He straightened at the sight of the approaching earl, and allowed a complacent, goading smile to flit briefly across his lips before schooling his features into indifference. Essex, more than half in his cups, flushed an ugly red color, and leapt forward to strike his rival away from the throne. Kryštof stumbled from the dais, regained his balance and whirled to face his assailant, only to step back with hands raised when he saw that Essex had done the unthinkable: he had drawn unbated steel in the presence of his Sovereign.

Essex advanced until he stood with his rapier held lightly against his rival’s throat. His hand shook and a drop of blood welled beneath the rapier’s tip, dark as a garnet against that silken white skin. It seemed to break the spell that held the entire court motionless. Uttering a curse, Southampton flung himself between them, pushing the rapier-point to the ground with his forearm, incidentally slashing the prince’s doublet and the shirt beneath from neck to navel, his own arm protected by his padded and jeweled sleeve. Blount leapt to place himself between the Queen and Essex. A thin line of dark blood traced the weapon’s path down Kryštof ’s chest. Selby tittered nervously and Robin gazed, stunned, at the stained tip of his weapon before throwing it to the floor and turning to the Queen. He held imploring hands out to her, but she glared at him, ordering to Blount to take him away.” Elizabeth!” he cried out, piteously, then allowed himself to be led from the chamber. Southampton had already gotten a firm grip on Kryštof ’s arm and shoved him through a side door into an adjoining gallery, not realizing that he accomplished his task only because it suited the purposes of the foreign prince.

The gallery was dimly lit, the windows shrouded against the chill winter night, and Southampton stood with his face shadowed, looking sidelong at the marred face of the prince. Kryštof turned his face and their eyes met.

“Essex is a hotheaded fool,” Kryštof said quietly, and Southampton nodded slightly. He stifled a gasp as the prince reached a hand to turn his face to the light, and resisted the urge to pull away. He was attracted to the man, but he was no Almsbury to be ruled by his lusts, though he was almost sorry when the prince let him go. His next words caused Hal to stare.

“Cecil is watching you all, waiting. He suspects Devereux of plotting rebellion, and the man proves his folly often enough to make it believable.” The words uttered quietly, but with a steely intensity. “You may all end up in the Tower, or worse, if you continue in this fashion, my lord.”

“Why do you tell me this, your grace?”

“I tell you because I do not like being enjoined to spy, and as little as I may care for my lord of Essex, I care for Cecil even less. Make of it what you will, my lord, but do consider yourself warned.”

“It may be, of course, that you say these things on commission from Cecil to scatter us,” Southampton riposted, and was answered with a cool nod.

“Time alone must answer that,” Kryštof said and turned to go, almost colliding with Selby as he rushed into the gallery in a flurry of rustling silk, one jeweled hand lifted to keep his cartwheel ruff from flying up and blinding him.

“Your pardon, your highness,” he murmured, and sketched a bow. “Hal, Robin escaped from—”

“Of course he did,” Southampton interrupted impatiently. “As the Queen intended when she consigned him to his stepfather’s custody. Do not practice to be a fool, Tom, you may find it a habit hard to break. Rob will sulk for a time and then come weening his way back into the Queen’s favor. Do not hush me, the prince is well aware of the truth, and, I should guess, not offended when he hears it. And he has already assured me that he does not care for spies.” Southampton turned a genuine smile on the prince, and Kryštof found himself smiling back. Hal was a most attractive man. “About your invitation for tonight, your grace, we—”

“I quite understand, my lord; perhaps another evening?” Kryštof interjected smoothly and left the room, followed by Selby’s distracted gaze and Southampton’s speculative one.



Several hours later, Southampton lay at full length before the fire at Essex House in the fashionable Strand, reviewing the events of the day. The exiled Essex was now engaged in pacing the room, calling the foreigner every foul name he could think of. His powers of invention were not that strong and he had begun to repeat himself. Hal sat up and stretched.” Leave off, Robin,” he yawned, “or administer some of that cudgeling wit to your own back. If you hadn’t acted the lackwit you wouldn’t find yourself in this plight. Did you truly think the man would draw and duel with you then and there?”

“He’s a puling coward, hiding in a woman’s skirts!”

“You’re a fool an you think so! That man is no coward, whatever else he mayor may not be. He never even broke a sweat and you were in a fair way to cut his throat.” Southampton shivered slightly at the memory of that deadly calm, and the dark blood beading that unnaturally pale skin. “Another thing, I warrant, you could have done nothing more likely to please Ralegh. He was grinning like a crocodile through the whole piece. What possessed you, Robin?” Essex shrugged and threw himself into a chair.

“He maddens me! How Her Majesty can dandle with the likes of that outlandish, beardless, black gipsy—”

“The same way that she could fondle with a jumped up Devon squire, I should imagine, Rob, and I must say that you handled that rather better. Tossing the Throckmorton wench in his way was a stroke of pure genius, and all the better for that no one suspects your hand in it. Why can you not command yourself so in this?”

“I cannot think of that villain without flying into a rage! He killed my cousin William, you know—”

“After you sent William out to waylay the man, to kill a prince like a dog in the road! That was not well done; Robin and you do know it. You were lucky there that naught worse happened than the loss of a distant kinsman.”

“I never meant them to kill the man.”

“Just club him insensible and leave him there to bleed to death?” Hal snorted and reached for the wine jug. “This is empty, and so is your store of wit tonight, Rob. I advise you to your bed, and I’ll to mine. Things may look clearer on the morning.”