The Tudor Secret

Chapter Five





I trekked down a series of corridors, passing from the palace into sudden night.

Torches mounted on the walls converted Whitehall’s mullioned bays into opaque eyes. A near-full moon rode in the sky, rimming the knot garden before me in a tarnished glow. There were copses of willows and fragrant herb patches, edged by a waist-high yew hedge that lined the path to moss-licked river steps and a private landing quay. Three guards swathed in wool stood near the quay; a lit iron brazier beside them cast fiery reflections onto the river.

There was no one else in sight.

The soughing of water reached me. I might have enjoyed the unexpected tranquility and the balm of the night, had I not the dilemma of what to do next. I didn’t know when the princess would arrive and I couldn’t simply approach and state my desire to speak with her. No guard worth his salt would be amenable to a stranger lacking proof of identity, save for the badge on my sleeve, which could be stolen, and a ring I couldn’t show.

The opportunity would have to present itself. I tarried under the palace shadow, listening to water shred against stone. When I discerned a distinct, more rhythmic splash, I readied myself.

A canopied barge glided into view.

The guards formed rank. From within the garden, a trim figure suddenly materialized. A jolt went through me when I recognized Master Cecil. Another man dressed entirely in black emerged to stand beside him. My nape prickled. How many others lurked in the shadows?

The barge was secured. I inched closer to the quay, my creeping steps sounding impossibly loud in my ears as I tiptoed through pools of darkness and crouched low behind the ornamental hedge. I was almost at the river’s edge.

Three cloaked figures emerged from the barge and mounted the steps to the quay. She was at the forefront, leading a thin silver-colored hound by a chain. As her tapered hand cast aside her hood, I glimpsed fiery tresses caught in silver filigree, framing an angular face.

Cecil and the stranger in black bowed. I edged closer, taking advantage of the hedge’s shadows. They were a pebble’s throw away, and the silence enhanced their voices. I heard Cecil’s first, imbued with urgency.

“Your Grace, I must beg you to reconsider. The court is not safe for you at this time.”

“My sentiments precisely,” interposed an officious voice. It came from the shorter of the princess’s two attendants, a stout matron who spoke with impudence. This must be the woman Robert had mentioned—Mistress Ashley. Behind her, the other, slightly taller attendant remained silent, muffled in a cloak of tawny velvet.

“I told Her Grace the same not an hour ago,” said the matron, “but would she heed me? Of course not. Who am I, after all, except the woman who raised her?”

The princess spoke, her voice crisp with impatience. “Ash Kat, don’t talk about me as if I weren’t here.” She stared at the matron, who, to my surprise, stared right back. Elizabeth turned her attention to Cecil. “As I have informed Mistress Ashley, you both worry too much. This court was never safe for me, yet I’m still alive to walk its halls, am I not?”

“Of course,” said Cecil. “No one questions your capacity for survival, my lady. But I do wish you’d consulted me before leaving Hatfield. In coming to London as you have, you risk his lordship the duke’s displeasure.”

Her reply carried a hint of asperity. “I hardly see why. I’m as entitled as my sister Mary was to see my brother, and he received her well enough.” She yanked at her cloak. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I must get to the hall. Edward will be expecting me.”

I had to scramble behind the hedge after them, dreading the thought that at any moment my foot might crunch down on a stray twig and betray my presence. Fortunately, my soft leather soles made no discernible sound on the lawn, but I was acutely aware that I’d just eavesdropped on a conversation not meant for my ears, entrusted with a message that more and more seemed like a ruse. Robert might say he’d never play the princess false, but Cecil clearly believed the duke might. What if delivering my master’s missive and ring caused more trouble than I knew?

“Your Grace, please.” Cecil hustled after her, for despite her delicate appearance, she had an athletic stride. “I must implore you. You must understand the risk you run. Otherwise, you would not have refused his lordship’s offer of rooms in the palace.”

So, Robert had been right! The duke did know she was coming: He had even offered her rooms in the palace. Why was he misleading his own son?

She stopped. “Not that I need to explain myself, but I ‘refused,’ as you say, to lodge in the palace because there are far too many people at court and my constitution is such that I cannot afford to contract an illness.” She held up a hand. “And I will not be dissuaded. I have waited long enough. I mean to see my brother tonight. No one, not even his lordship the duke of Northumberland, can stop me.”

Cecil’s reluctant incline of head showed that he recognized the futility of further argument. “At least, let Master Walsingham accompany you. He’s well trained and can give you proper protection should—”

“Absolutely not. I’ve no need for Master Walsingham’s or anyone else’s protection. By the rood, am I not the king’s sister? What need I fear from being at his court?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She continued toward the palace, her dog in perfect pace at her side. Then all of a sudden it paused. With a low growl, it turned its baleful eyes to the hedge. I froze; it had smelled me. She yanked at its chain. The dog did not budge, its growl becoming louder, turning into a menacing snarl.

I heard her say, “Who goes there?” and knew I had no other choice.

To the hound’s bloodcurdling bark, I stood and shifted through an opening in the hedge. I swiftly knelt, removed my cap. The moonlight sliced across my face. She went still. The dog snarled again. Cecil snapped his fingers. The guards were at me, swords scything in release. In a second, I was surrounded by blades. If I so much as moved a muscle, I would impale myself.

The dog strained at its chain, snout drawn back and fangs bared. She patted its sleek head. “Hush, Urian,” I heard her say. “Be still.” The hound sat on its haunches, its strange green-toned eyes fixed on me.

Cecil said, “I believe I know this youth, Your Grace. I assure you, he is quite harmless.”

One of her thin red-gold brows arched. “I don’t doubt it, seeing as he thought to hide from us in the yew, of all places. Who is he?”

“Robert Dudley’s squire.”

I glanced up in time to catch the quick look Cecil cast in my direction. I couldn’t tell whether he was displeased or amused.

The princess motioned. The guards shifted back. I stayed on one knee.

There are moments that define our existence, moments that, if we recognize them, become pivotal turning points in our life. Like pearls on a strand, the accumulation of such moments will in time become the essence of our life, providing solace when our end draws near.

For me, meeting Elizabeth Tudor was one of those moments.

The first thing I noticed was that she was not beautiful. Her chin was too narrow for the oval of her face, her long thin nose emphasizing the high curve of her cheeks and proud brow. Her mouth was disproportionately wide and her lips too thin, as if she savored secrets. And she was too pale and slim, like a fey creature of indeterminate sex.

Then I met her stare. Her eyes were fathomless, overwide pupils limning her gold irises, like twin suns in eclipse. I had seen eyes like hers before, years ago, when a traveling menagerie entertained us at Dudley Castle. Then, too, I had been captured by their dormant power.

She had the eyes of a lion.

“Lord Robert’s squire?” she said to Cecil. “How can it be? I’ve never seen him before.”

“I’m new to court, Your Grace,” I answered. “Your dog is foreign, is he not?”

She shot me a terse look; she’d not given me leave to speak. “He is Italian. You are familiar with the breed?”

“I had occasion to learn many things during my time in the Dudley stables.”

“Is that so?” She tilted her head. “Hold out your hand.”

I hesitated for a moment before warily extending my wrist. She loosened her grip on the chain. The hound thrust his muzzle at me. I almost recoiled as I felt his breath on my skin. He sniffed. To my relief, he licked my skin and retreated.

“You have a way with animals,” Elizabeth said. “Urian rarely takes to strangers.” She motioned me to my feet. “What is your name?”

“Brendan Prescott, Your Grace.”

“You’re a bold fellow, Brendan Prescott. State your purpose.”

I suddenly realized I was trembling and recited in a voice that sounded far too rushed to my ears: “My lord asks that I convey his regret that he could not be here to receive Your Grace. He was called away on urgent business.”

It was as far as I dared go. I had promised to deliver the ring in private and had the uncanny certainty that she would not like her association with Robert Dudley bandied about in public. As it stood, she was looking at me with an intensity that made me think of tales I’d heard of her late father, whom it was said had such a piercing stare, he could see through a man’s skin to his veins and judge for himself how true the blood ran.

Then she arched her throat and released a gust of husky laughter. “Urgent business, you say? That much, I do not doubt. Lord Robert has a father to obey, does he not?”

I felt my smile emerge, lopsided. “He certainly does.”

“Yes, and I know better than most how demanding fathers can be.” With the laughter still on her lips, she handed Urian’s chain to Cecil and motioned to me with long fingers. “Walk with me, squire. You’ve given me cause for amusement tonight, and it’s a quality I value greatly.” She cast a pointed look at those behind her. “Seeing how little of it I find around me these days.”

Elation rushed from my head all the way to my feet. Master Shelton had warned me that trouble followed her wherever she went.

But in that moment, I did not care.

* * *

I moved after her into the palace, taking care not to overtake her. At the first opportunity, Mistress Ashley shouldered past me to the princess’s side, muttering something inaudible. I heard Elizabeth reply, “No. I said I would walk with him, and walk I will. Alone.”

Mistress Ashley retorted, “I forbid it. It will incite talk.”

“I hardly think a simple walk can incite anything, Ash Kat,” said Elizabeth dryly. “And you’re far too short to forbid me anything anymore.”

The matron glowered. Cecil interposed, “Mistress Ashley, the lad will do no harm.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Mistress Ashley. “He serves the Dudleys, doesn’t he?” With a glare at me, she reluctantly retreated.

I nodded gratefully at Cecil. He must have realized that I had been sent here by Robert and was trying to facilitate my first official duty, yet to my discomfiture, he avoided my gaze, slowing his pace to fall behind us. Equally discomfiting was the stranger in black named Walsingham, who moved with the soundless stealth of a cat, his long features a study in stony indifference.

I was surrounded by mistrustful strangers; I could almost feel their protectiveness toward the princess boring into my back. The only person whose face I had not yet seen was Elizabeth’s other attendant, though I assumed she too must view my presence as unwelcome; as I thought this, I glanced over at her and caught a glimpse of bold brown eyes looking back at me from within her hood.

Elizabeth interrupted my thoughts. “I said walk with me, squire, not dawdle at my heels.”

I hastened to her side. When she next spoke, her words were both rapid and hushed. “We’ve little time before we reach the hall. I would know the true reason for Robin’s absence.”

“Robin, Your Grace?” I said, drawing a momentary blank.

“Do you serve another Lord Robert, perchance?” She gave a terse laugh. “Urgent business, indeed; I’d have thought nothing save imprisonment would keep him away this night.” Her mirth faded. “Where is he? He well knows how much I’ve risked by coming here.”

“I…” My tongue felt like leather in my mouth. “I … I cannot say, Your Grace.”

“Meaning you do not know.” She turned into a gallery. I quickened my step.

“Meaning he didn’t tell me. But he asked me to give you this.” I reached to my doublet, forgetting in my haste to appease her that Robert had specified I deliver the ring in private.

Her hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Though her fingers were cold, her touch seared like flame. “God’s teeth, you are new to court. Not here! What is it? Tell me.”

“A ring, Your Grace, silver with an onyx stone. My master took it off his own finger.”

She nearly came to a halt. Even in the dimly lit passageway, I saw color flare in her white cheeks. For a second, the regal mask slipped, revealing the flush of a maiden who cannot hide her pleasure. I was so flustered by its revelation that I plunged on, reckless in my zeal to fulfill my orders.

“He said Your Grace would understand, and that he will soon arrange a time for you to meet alone, so he can have what he was promised.”

Dead silence followed my words. To my dismay, her entire person stiffened. This time, she did come to a stop. She turned to me, regarding me as if from a height I could not possibly hope to scale. “You may tell your master that I understand perfectly. And as usual, he thinks far too much of himself—and far too little of me.”

I froze. From ahead came muffled music and voices, signaling our proximity to the hall.

“My lady,” I finally said, “I’m afraid my lord was most insistent that you accept proof of his constancy.”

“Insist!” she exclaimed, with mortifying shrillness. She paused, lowering her voice to a taut whisper. “I will not be compromised by your master or any other man. Tell Robert he goes too far. Too far, by God.” She turned pointedly away from me, and Mistress Ashley hustled forth, shoving me aside so she could remove Elizabeth’s cloak.

I was dismissed. As I stepped back, Elizabeth’s other attendant moved past me, pulling back her own hood. I stared at her. She was lovely and young, her vivacious features complimented by a knowing gleam in her large eyes. She gave me a quick smile and I averted my gaze, stung by what I saw as her delight in my humiliation.

When I looked about, I noticed that Walsingham had slipped away. Cecil bowed before Elizabeth. “Master Walsingham asked me to offer his apologies; he had business to attend to. By your leave, I’ll see Urian to his kennel.” He kissed her extended hand, started to turn away.

“Cecil,” she said, and he paused. “I must do this, for Edward. I cannot let them think that I’ll cower in my house and wait for their summons.”

He gave her a sad smile. “I know. I only hope you’ll come to no harm because of it.” He walked away, the hound at his side.

I watched Elizabeth turn toward the hall entrance. Her women flanked her; she suddenly looked small, vulnerable, even as she lifted her chin with regal poise to descend the steps. When she entered that crowded space, the music in the gallery sputtered, twanging discordantly before it ceased. Silence fell, so profound I could hear her footsteps on the painted wood floor. I inched forward, slipping past the shadows by the doors, blending into the crowd to watch as the duke strode to her through bowing courtiers.

“My lord of Northumberland, this is an honor,” said Elizabeth. She held out her hand. The duke bowed, his bearded lips lingering on her fingers even as his eyes lifted to hers.

“The honor is mine, Your Grace. I welcome you to court.”

“Do you?” She smiled with dazzling candor. “I confess I’d begun to think you would deny me the pleasure of this court indefinitely. How long has it been since my sister Mary came to visit? Four months? Five? Yet not one invitation did you extend to me in all that time.”

“Ah, you see I waited for an opportune time.” The duke righted himself, standing a head taller than her. “As you are aware, His Majesty has been ill.”

“Yes. I am aware. I trust Edward is on his way to a full recovery?”

“Indeed, and he has asked for you several times. Did you not get his letters?”

“I did, yes. I … I am relieved.” I saw her soften; she even managed to toss her head with a touch of flirtatiousness as she set her hand on the duke’s arm and allowed him to guide her into the hall. Amid the incandescent flames and sheen of mirrors, the colored satins, and extravagant jewels, as courtiers sank into obeisance like overdressed heaps, she stood out like alabaster. A chill slithered up my spine. It was as if I were seeing everything for the first time, my senses attuned to this forest of treachery and deceit, populated by well-fed predators who circled the princess much as wolves circle their prey.

I had to remind myself that my antiquated notions of chivalry, nurtured on childhood tales of knights of lore, were getting the best of me. Delicate in appearance as she may be, Elizabeth Tudor was not a helpless fawn. She’d been breathing this venomous air from the very hour of her birth. If anyone knew how to survive at court, it was she. Instead of worrying about her, I’d do better to focus on my own troubles. I had yet to deliver the ring, and Robert had made it clear what I could expect if I failed. I saw others like me in the hall, liveried shadows behind their masters, carrying goblet and napkin. Perhaps I too could become invisible, until I found the opportunity to approach her again.

I searched the crowd. Elizabeth drifted in and out of my vision, pausing to tap a shoulder here, offer a smile there. When she reached an enormous hearth near the dais, she paused. Sitting on upholstered chairs were persons of obvious importance. All rose to offer obeisance. I thought it must be difficult to command such deference, to know she’d always be set apart by rank and blood. And then I saw my chance.

Lurking at a sideboard not far from that noble company was Master Shelton.