“I asked Nancy to show it to me before I came in, Mary. I am grieved for his death and the loss of the children’s father, though I cannot pretend it changes my love for you in the slightest.”
She kept her silence, ashamed that she had accused him of such callousness. But she must guard her heart against him and make him take her to Hever without a stop at an inn where she would face him alone. She loved him far too much to handle that.
Stephen knocked and entered to break the jumble of her thoughts. “Will these do, my lord?” he inquired, holding up brown breeks and a sky-blue shirt.
“Good, Stephen. They will suit her just fine. The shirt will match the cloudy blue of the lady’s eyes.”
Stephen grinned broadly and went out to find Nancy. Staff rose to fetch the horses.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
July 26, 1528
The Road to Banstead
By late morning Staff had hired a horse barge to ferry them to the south bank of London where they would take the Great Kent Road toward Hever. The shimmering July sun had already sucked the heavy dews from the fields along the river and the heat of the day was upon them.
“The London streets are likely to be deserted,” Staff said to Stephen. Mary and Nancy listened intently. They were afraid that he dared to take them into the very city where the sweat was said to have slain folk in the tens of hundreds this summer. But Staff had claimed it was the quickest and safest route. So Mary relented and held her fears in silence. She could not have stood another bleak night in the palace in the room where Will had died with accusations on his lips.
That morning few farmers worked the fields and tiny vegetable gardens which stretched down to the Thames. Occasional travelers along the footpaths glanced up in interest to see a ferry headed toward the city with four horses and six people, but there was scant traffic on the usually busy river and, in general, nothing stirred. The barge drifted past the turrets of deserted Richmond. Its vacant windows stared like great hollow eyes reflecting the sun, its landing docks, tiltyards and bowling greens silent. They spoke little on the barge as the river pulled it relentlessly toward troubled London.
Then the city loomed up from the field with its solemn church spires and clustered thatched roofs huddled in the beating rays of the noon sun. Staff made them drink the first of the wine and eat the fruit they had brought, for he intended to set a hard pace when they were on the road. Mary tossed her plum pit into the murky Thames and saw it instantly disappear into the depths. She wiped her sticky fingers on her breeks as she had seen Staff do and a smile came to her lips.
“It may seem strange to be in breeks, Mary, but it has advantages, you will see. Besides, I think you and your Nancy both make handsome lads—right, Stephen? And the swords add the right touch. I think you had better get the stray curls up under that cap. It will make for a dusty neck on the road, but I have no intention of attracting rogues or ruffians with wench bait.”
Stephen laughed at his words, but Staff was tight-lipped. Mary noted to her dismay how much Stephen seemed to hang on everything Staff said, to follow him about to serve his every whim. He had never been so puppy-like with his own lord.
“Is there much danger then?” Nancy asked timidly. “Stephen says so.”
“Stephen is wise to be prepared, lass. We shall set a good pace to Banstead, and I warrant no one will bother four quick riding men.”
The once bustling wharfs and quays were deserted and Staff had the bargemen put in at the landing under London Bridge. Houses and shops clung to both sides of it like barnacles, but their mass provided shade as the four led off their horses to dockside and Staff paid the boatmen. They were eager to be away, to leave the cursed city behind, and they shoved off for the upstream row to Hampton as soon as they had their money.
“I cannot say I blame them for their haste,” Stephen said. “I never thought I would be visitin’ plagued London.”
“The sweat is hardly the plague, lad, though it is bad enough. You will no doubt see the crosses on the doors though. Keep a stout heart. We will leave the city behind soon for the free countryside. Besides, I was here one summer in the sweat season and nothing happened to me.”