The Tudor Secret

Chapter Twenty-one





Kate returned with a bundle of clothes and her tray heaped with meat on trenchers and sauced vegetables. Peregrine was with her, grinning. He carried a folded table. After he set it up, he returned with my saddlebag, and, to my surprise, the king’s sheathed sword, which I’d last seen clattering off the leads at Greenwich. I opened the bag to examine its jumbled contents. I sighed in relief when I found the stolen psalm book, still wrapped in its protective cloth.

I turned to Kate. She’d changed into a rose velvet gown that enhanced the muted gold in her hair. As she busied herself lighting candles about the room, I acknowledged my desire to draw her into my arms and caress away the last of my mistrust. But Peregrine demanded my attention, dancing about like a precocious imp, Elizabeth’s silver hound at his heels.

“You look rather pleased with yourself,” I said as he helped me to my feet and into a robe. “And isn’t that Her Grace’s hound? Have you been thieving again?”

“I have not,” he replied. “Her Grace left Urian here with us, so we could track you. He’s the best tracker in her kennels, she said. She knows her beasts. He was the first to smell you on the riverbank.” He paused, his nose crimping. “What is it with you and water? You’ve done nothing but get wet since we met.”

I burst out laughing. It felt wonderful. I took Peregrine’s hand, made my slow but steady way to the dinner table. “Unrepentant as always,” I said, easing onto a stool. “I’m glad of you, my friend.” I looked at Kate. “And you. I thank God for both of you. You saved my life. It’s a debt I can never repay.”

The sheen in Kate’s eyes might have been tears. She brushed them aside with her sleeve, and Peregrine perched next to me as she started to serve.

“I’m not helpless,” I said, as Peregrine handed me my plate. “I can feed myself.”

Kate wagged her finger. “He’s not here to feed you. You’ve had quite enough pampering. Peregrine, either you tell that dog to get its paws off the table or you can both go eat in the kitchen.”

Amid laughter and candlelight, we dined and spoke of innocuous matters. Only after we’d wiped up the last of the sauce with our bread and Peregrine had recounted for the hundredth time how he and Barnaby employed Urian’s olfactory skills to track me did I breach our camaraderie. Leaning back in my chair, I said as casually as I could, “And where is Fitzpatrick?”

The rustle of Kate’s skirts as she stood broke the sudden silence. She began stacking the empty platters. Peregrine reached down to caress Urian.

“The king is dead, isn’t he?” I said.

Kate paused. Peregrine nodded sadly. “It’s not been officially announced, but Master Walsingham told us he died yesterday. Barnaby returned to court as soon as we found you, to be at his side. It’s said that at the hour of Edward’s death, heaven wept.”

The rain. I had heard it.

As the memory of that youth rotting away in a fetid room surfaced in me, my gaze went to the sword on the bed. My voice tightened. “And the herbalist? Did Walsingham say anything about her?”

Kate said quickly, “Brendan, please, let it be. It’s too soon. You’re still weak.”

“No. I want to know. I … I need to know.”

“Then I will tell you.” She sat at my side. “She is dead. Sidney told Walsingham. Someone took her body away. No one knows where. The Dudleys threatened to kill Sidney for helping you, but by then word had gotten out that Elizabeth had escaped and the palace was in an uproar. Brendan, no. Sit down. You cannot—”

I came to my feet. Resisting the dizziness that came over me, I paced to the window to stare into the night. My stalwart Alice was dead. She was gone forever this time. Lady Dudley had slashed her throat as if she’d been some barnyard beast, and left her to bleed to death.

I couldn’t think of it. I couldn’t. It would drive me insane.

“What about Jane Grey?” I said quietly. “Has she been declared queen?”

“Not yet. But the duke removed her and Guilford to London. And there are rumors he will send men after the Lady Mary.”

“I thought he already had. I thought he sent Lord Robert after her.”

“It seems he had to delay. We think that after he discovered Elizabeth had fled Greenwich, he wanted to first get Lady Jane somewhere safe. She is all he has now.”

I nodded. “Peregrine,” I said. “Can you leave us, please?”

The boy rose and left, Urian padding behind. Kate and I faced each other from across the room. Then she stood and turned to pick up the tray. “We can talk tomorrow.”

I stepped to her. “I agree. Only … don’t leave.” My voice broke. “Please.”

She came to where I stood helpless and put her hand on my bearded cheek. “It’s so red,” she said. “And thick. I wouldn’t have thought you’d have such a thick beard.”

“And I,” I whispered, “never thought you’d care.”

She regarded me steadily. “Neither did I. But there you have it.”

I brought her to me, held her close, as though I might meld her to me forever.

“I’ve never done this before,” I said.

“Never?” She raised her eyes to me in genuine surprise.

“No,” I said. “I only ever loved one woman.…” I stroked her cheek. “And you?”

She smiled. “Suitors have been begging for my hand since I was a babe, of course.”

“Then add my name to the list.” The words did not disconcert me as much as I had supposed. I had never fallen in love before; now it seemed the most natural thing in the world.

She looked into my eyes. “Must we wait that long?” She took my hands, guided them to her bodice. I undid the laces. The bodice slipped from her shoulders. Moments later, she was stepping out of her skirts, shrugging off her chemise until she stood naked, patterned in candlelight and slivers of moon, desirable as no woman I’d ever seen.

I gathered her up, burying my face in her breasts. She gasped involuntarily as I carried her to the bed, where she reclined and watched me cast off my robe before she sat up on her knees to help me pull my shift over my head. My shoulder ached. She frowned at the fresh spotting of blood on the bandage. “I should change that,” she said.

“It can wait,” I replied against her lips. As I drew back, her gaze traveled down my torso, resting for a moment on the blemish on my hip. Then she brought her gaze lower.

I lay down beside her. Her experienced air did not deceive me. Under my hand I could feel her pulse racing, and I knew that if she had explored the ways of the flesh to a certain extent, in the end, like so many girls of breeding, she’d remained shy of the consummation.

But I soon discovered that I too was innocent, in every way a man can be. As I pressed her length against me and we tasted each other with fervor, I realized I could not hope to compare this luxury to my rambunctious couplings with the castle maids and damsels at the fairs. I worshipped as I might at a temple, until the desire in Kate’s eyes turned to flame and she was shuddering beneath me, rising to meet my ardor. Only once did she cry out, but softly.

After we were spent and she cradled in my arms, I whispered, “Did I hurt you?”

She laughed shakily. “If that was pain, I never want to know anything else.” She spread her hands over my chest, resting her fingers on my heart. “All I want is here.”

I smiled. “Be that as it may, I would still make an honest woman of you.”

“For your information,” she said, “I am eighteen. I can make my own decisions. And I’m not sure I want to be an honest woman quite yet.”

I chuckled. “Well, when you do decide, let me know. I should at least request Her Grace’s blessing; you are her lady. And your mother, I’m sure she too will want to be asked.”

She sighed. “My mother is dead. But I think she would have liked you.”

I detected an old pain in her voice. “I’m sorry. When did she pass away?”

“When I was five.” She smiled. “She was so young when she bore me: just fourteen.”

“And your father … was he also young?”

She gave me a curious look. “I’m a bastard. And no, he wasn’t. Not as young as her.”

“I see.” I did not look away. “Do you want to tell me?”

She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, “It wasn’t a love affair. My mother was born of servants who served the Carey household; they died in the sweating sickness outbreak that killed Mary Boleyn’s first husband. When she remarried and became Mistress Stafford, my mother served her. Mistress Stafford wasn’t rich; her new husband Will Stafford was a common soldier but she had two children by her first marriage, a stipend, and her late husband had left her a house. She also liked my mother, so she offered her a post as her maid.”

“This Mary Stafford,” I said, “is she the same who was sister to Anne Boleyn?”

“Yes, but she had none of her sister’s pride, God rest her soul. When my mother became pregnant, the morning sickness gave her away. She was terrified; but Mistress Stafford did not utter a word of reproach. She knew the hardship women can suffer, so she bundled my mother up and sent her to live under Lady Mildred Cecil’s care. I was born in the Cecil household.”

So, this explained Kate’s connection to Cecil. She had lived under his roof.

“Did Mistress Stafford know who your father was?” I asked.

“She must have suspected. My mother never said his name aloud, but there weren’t that many men of age in her household who would have taken the liberty. It must have hurt her deeply. Mary had been married to him less than a year, risked her family’s displeasure and exile from court to be with him.” Kate sat up, pushing her hair aside. “He’s still alive. I saw him at Mistress Stafford’s funeral. We have the same eyes.”

I was quiet, struck by the similarities—and crucial differences—between us.

“Of course, Mistress Stafford would have understood,” she added. “After all, she’d been Henry the Eighth’s mistress before her sister Anne caught his eye; she knew fidelity is not a man’s best asset, and no woman invites misfortune willingly. But she let my mother keep her secret and raise me herself, without interference. She also left us with the Cecils. I think she wanted to keep my mother safe and away from her husband.”

She paused. “I owe her everything. Because of her kindness, my mother wasn’t turned out to beg. We lived well; I had a good childhood. I received an education. Lady Mildred saw to it, being an educated woman herself. I’m one of the few ladies in Her Grace’s service who is literate. That’s why she trusts me. If a message needs to be destroyed, I can memorize it.”

“I can see why she would trust you,” I said. “How did your mother die?”

“She caught a fever. It was quick, painless. I saw Mistress Stafford a few times after my mother passed; she was always gracious. She died three years later.”

“And the man you believe is your father…?” I ventured.

“He has remarried. He has children. I don’t fault him. I think he took my mother as men do, in a moment of lust, without thought for the consequences. If he knows about me, he’s never shown it. I’ve lived all of my life without him. But I use his surname. It’s the least he can do,” she said, with a mischievous smile. “It’s not as if there aren’t hundreds of Staffords in England.”

She poked my chest with her finger. “Your turn. I want to make an honest man out of you.” It was out before she even realized what she’d said. She took one look at my face and flinched. “Forgive me. I sometimes speak before I think. If you don’t want to talk, I understand.”

I cupped her chin. “No, I don’t want secrets between us.” I paused. “The truth is I don’t know who my mother is. I was abandoned as a babe. Mistress Alice raised me.”

“You were abandoned?” she echoed. I nodded, waiting for her to collect her thoughts. “Then Mistress Alice … she was the woman in the king’s room?”

“Yes. She saved me.” As I uttered these words, I felt an overpowering need to tell someone, to leave the memory in someone other than myself, so she’d never be forgotten. “I was left in the priest’s cottage near Dudley Castle, presumably to die. I was later told it happens more than we think—unwanted babies dropped off on noble thresholds—in the hope the rich will take pity on what the poor can’t afford. I would have none of it; according to Mistress Alice, I made enough fuss to wake the dead. She heard me wailing all the way from the slop pit, where she was dumping leavings, so she went to investigate.”

My voice caught. I steadied it, focusing on Kate’s eyes for strength. “She was like the mother I never knew. When she died—or rather, when I was told she died—I couldn’t forgive her for leaving me without saying good-bye.”

“That is why you agreed to help Her Grace. You knew she needed to say good-bye.”

“Yes. I couldn’t let her suffer what I had. I know what it is like to lose someone unexpectedly. I believed Mistress Alice was dead. Peregrine mentioned a woman caring for the king when I first met him, and for a moment I felt … But I never truly thought it was her. I couldn’t. Even when I saw her…” I paused again. My voice trembled. “They cut out her tongue, did something to her legs to hobble her. Master Shelton, their steward, whom I’d looked up to, who had told me of her death—he stood there and did nothing when Lady Dudley stabbed her. She bled to death and he did nothing.”

The recollection was like shards in my gut. I had been a fool to ever think Master Shelton would choose me over duty. To be a loyal servant, in everything it entailed, was what he knew. I might have pitied him for his stolid, meaningless life, had I not burned for vengeance.

There was a long silence. Kate’s hair draped like a curtain about her. She lifted tear-filled eyes. “Forgive me for how I spoke of her death. It was selfish. I … I didn’t want you to hurt.”

I kissed her. “My brave Kate, you couldn’t have prevented my pain. It happened long before I met you. I lost Alice on that day they took her from me. The woman I met in His Majesty’s chamber wasn’t the woman I knew. Now I know the truth. I know she didn’t abandon me. Lady Dudley must have ordered her taken on the road, and Shelton was her accomplice.”

“But why would they do such a terrible thing? It happened long before the King fell ill, yes? Why did they want you to believe she was dead?”

I smiled grimly. “I’ve been asking myself the same thing. I think it’s because of what she knew. I’m certain of it. Mistress Alice knew who I am.”

She stared at me. “Does this have something to do with that piece of jewelry?”

In response, I rose, padded naked from the bed to my crumpled robe. From the pocket I withdrew the jewel. The ruby caught the moonlight filtering through the window as I handed it to her. “I think it’s a piece of my past,” I said. A shudder ran through me. “Mistress Alice gave it to me, and I think it’s because in that moment she recognized me. I don’t think she knew me before; she’d suffered too much. But she kept that gold petal with her for a reason. It means something. It has to.”

Kate gazed upon it. “Yes, but what?”

I took it back from her, ran my fingertips over the fragile veined gold. “Mistress Alice never had much use for anything save her herbs. She didn’t covet material things. She used to say things took up too much room. Yet she kept this object hidden in her medicine chest for God only knows how many years. I went through her chest many times; she used to scold me, saying I’d intoxicate myself with some herb. But I never found it. She hid it in some compartment. She must have. I have a feeling that not even Lady Dudley knew she had it.”

I looked past her to the window. “Lady Dudley is the key to all this. She used me to force the duchess to agree to wed her daughter Jane Grey to Guilford. The duchess said as much when she held me in that cell. Whatever this petal represents, it must be powerful enough to have warranted my death. It might even be the weapon I need to stop the Dudleys—for good.”

She crossed her arms over her breasts, as if she felt a chill. “You’ll seek revenge for what they did to her.”

I returned my gaze to her. “How can I not? She was everything I had in the world, and they destroyed her. Yes, I seek revenge. But even more than that, I seek the truth.” I leaned to her. “Kate, I need to know who I am.”

“I know. It’s just that I’m afraid for you. For us. This secret can’t be good if the duchess of Suffolk wants to kill you to keep it quiet. And if the Dudleys used it against her, they must know what it is.”

“Not every Dudley. Only Lady Dudley knows. I don’t think she ever told the duke. She must have suspected he would betray her. She wasn’t about to entrust him with the only weapon she had—her ability to coerce the duchess. Without her coercion, without this secret, I believe the duchess would never have agreed to give her daughter to a—”

“Lowborn Dudley,” Kate mused. She regarded me thoughtfully. “Why don’t you tell Master Cecil about this? He knows important people. Maybe he could help you.”

“No.” I grasped her hands. “Promise you’ll not breathe a word of this to anyone, not even the princess—especially not her. Northumberland still holds power, perhaps now more than ever, and she may still need our help. It’s best that I carry this burden on my own for now.”

I silently asked forgiveness for my lie. I couldn’t risk exposing her to that frozen hatred I’d seen in Lady Dudley’s eyes, nor did I want murderous Stokes stalking her on the duchess’s behalf. I would become a hunted man once it was discovered I was still alive. Whatever happened, Kate must be kept safe. Still, what I must ask of her next would hurt.

“I need you to do something for me. I need you to promise you’ll return to Hatfield.”

She bit her lip. “And if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll remind you that Elizabeth still needs you. None of her servants have your skills, which she may require in the days to come. You know it as well as me. Just as you know, but haven’t yet said, that Cecil has an assignment for me. It’s why Walsingham has been coming and going, inquiring after my health. He’s not that solicitous.”

“I don’t care,” she whispered. She thumped the mattress with her fist. “Let them find someone else. You’ve risked enough. Not even Her Grace would ask more of you.”

“Yet I would do more. So would you. How can you not? You love her.”

“And you?” she asked, haltingly. “Do you … love her?”

I pulled her to me. “Only as my princess. She deserves that much, I think.”

Wrapped in my embrace, Kate murmured, “They say her mother was cursed. Sometimes I wonder if Elizabeth carries it in her blood. Robert Dudley threw himself at her feet; so did his father. Yet when she denied them, they turned on her like wolves. Can it be that the spell she weaves can just as easily turn men to hatred as it can to love?”

“For her sake, I pray not.” I let the moment pass. “Will you go?”

She sighed. “Not now.”