Linda Barlow (32 page)

She felt torn between her loyalty to her mistress and her concern over Roger. Why couldn't he simply be what he seemed, a rising star at court who had no other desire than the furthering of his country's commercial interests? Why did he secretly have to be involved with traitors and heretics whose aim was to undermine the queen's authority?

Every time she saw Roger kissing the beringed fingers of his monarch at court, Alexandra watched nervously for the hint of insincerity that would betray him. She lived in fear that he would be discovered. If her father ever produced evidence against him, Roger would be condemned to a horribly painful death. Traitors were hanged, drawn and quartered. Heretics were burned.

She was thinking so intently about Roger as the barge slid in to dock at her father's landing that for an instant she thought she had conjured him up. A man awaited them on the landing. He was slim-built, with dark hair and those unmistakably arrogant Trevor features. Alexandra had to look twice before she realized it was Alan, not Roger.

"I neglected to mention a birthday surprise," her father told her as Alexandra called out delightedly to her friend. "He turned up last night."

"But what's he doing here? Isn't he supposed to be hard at his studies at Oxford?"

Before her father could answer, the barge bumped the dock and Alan jumped on board to seize Alexandra around the waist and hug her. "I missed you horribly," he declared. He stared in apparent wonder at her stiff court attire. "Faith, Alix, you look different."

"So do you. You're taller." He was straighter, too, and broader in a subtle way that was somewhat disconcerting. He looked much more like a man. Playfully she batted her eyelashes at him. "Heavens, milord, I do believe you're growing up."

Alan gave her his old shy, rueful grin. "Happy birthday. May I give you a birthday kiss?"

When she nodded, he bent his head and did so, allowing his lips to linger in a manner that was unknown between them. Startled, Alexandra drew back. "What are they teaching you at Oxford? You've never kissed me like that in your life."

Alan looked sheepish. "Actually, I'm not at Oxford anymore."

"What on earth do you mean?"

Alan stared at the river lapping at the wooden landing. He made a show of assisting Alexandra and her several yards of expensive fabric out of the barge. "They've dismissed me."

"What?
Not you, Alan, surely. You're such an excellent scholar! I don't believe it. Whatever for?"

Alan shot a guilty look toward Alexandra's father, who was busy paying the riverman and summoning a servant to handle her baggage.

"Alan?" she persisted, pulling him a little to the side. "Tell me. What did they dismiss you for?"

"Fornication," was the extraordinary reply.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Alexandra lay sprawled on a cushion in front of a roaring fire, drinking small beer and listening to Alan's story. She had changed into one of her oldest gowns, and felt truly comfortable for the first time in months.

"So who was she?" she demanded. She had been consumed with curiosity ever since they'd arrived. "I hope you haven't ruined some poor tradesman's daughter who didn't know any better."

"Sweet Jesus, no. She was a widow, Alix, ten years older than I. She seduced me. At first I didn't really expect... that is, I was what is commonly referred to as a callow youth."

"Oh, Alan." She was trying not to laugh.

He'd met the widow, he explained, during an unsanctioned expedition with several of his friends to a public tavern. She helped her brother-in-law run the pub, and had taken a fancy to the university youths, Alan in particular. "She gave us free ale and encouraged us to sneak out again the following week. It was tricky. We had to climb a high wall to escape the college."

"Good heavens, I can't imagine you clandestinely scaling walls to meet a lusty widow! It sounds like something out of 'The Miller's Tale.'"

"That's exactly what it was like," he said ruefully. "The second time we went, she lured me upstairs on the pretext of asking me if a certain hand-printed book was valuable, and the next thing I knew, she was attacking me."

"While you strenuously defended your virtue, I suppose?"

"Well..." He blushed. "She was very pretty. I... uh... never thought I'd do such a thing. She took me by surprise, and,"—he paused—"my body behaved in a manner that was quite foreign to my soul."

"I can imagine," she said dryly.

Alan grinned at her, and once again Alexandra noticed that he had changed. He seemed definitely more self-assured. Male pride, she surmised. "But it was foolish," he continued. "She was using me to make the pub owner jealous. He turned out not to be her brother-in-law after all, but her bad-tempered lover. The next time I went, he almost caught us together. I shouldn't have gone back after that, but…" He shrugged expressively.

"You couldn't resist?"

"She was very talented, if you see what I mean."

She saw only too well, although she suspected Alan would be horrified if he ever learned that she, too, had been initiated into some of the mysteries of sexual passion. Particularly if he knew the identity of her initiator. "So you returned and fell into the hands of the jealous lover?"

"Not exactly. I fell into the hands of the college authorities. It seems the lady had confessed to her lover, and he had called upon the chancellor to protest. They believed at first that the charges must be false. I was such a model scholar, you see. But the publican challenged them to lie in wait for me. Like a hawk to a lure, I came."

"Poor hawk. How embarrassing."

"It was grim. It's not exactly uncommon, sneaking out to drink and wench, but I was the only one stupid enough to get caught. They dismissed me summarily."

"But, Alan, studying at Oxford was your dream for so many years. Couldn't you have been more circumspect?"

"Perhaps, but in a way, I'm well out of it. Do you know how many Reformers have been burned in the town of Oxford? The college is full of royal spies. No one's doing much studying there these days. There are a few radicals who seem to court martyrdom, but everybody else is tiptoeing about endeavoring to avoid the flames."

She did not fail to note the outrage in his voice when he mentioned the royal spies, spies who were very likely paid by her own father. Did that mean that he had become a heretic himself? Six months ago she would have asked him, but with her newfound tact, she'd learned to stop asking personal questions about her friends' religious beliefs. It was far too dangerous a subject.

In silence they both drank deeply of their beer. "Does your father know about this?"

"They've written to him. I didn't go home, obviously. I came straight here. I've always wanted to visit London."

"What are you going to do here?"

"Make my fortune in the city where the streets are paved with gold."

"You believe in fables now? Forgive me if I’m unimpressed with what you've had of a university education."

Alan laughed. "Roger is doing well for himself, I hear. I'll go to him. He's my brother; he'll get some sort of post for me."

"I thought you and he weren't on speaking terms. Something to do with some mysterious event that happened in the forest on the day you broke your leg." She spoke a trifle impatiently. She'd never found out what had caused that breach between Alan and his brother.

"I may have judged him too harshly." He declined to elaborate.

* * *

Alexandra took a much-needed rest that afternoon, rising after a couple of hours of delicious, undisturbed sleep full of high spirits and energy. A feeling of freedom blossomed in her soul, and she decided to make the most of her days before she had to return to her restricted life as one of the queen's ladies.

She took Alan on a whirlwind tour of the city, ending up by the Thames River docks, where several trading ships were unloading their cargo. "One of them belongs to your brother," she told Alan.
"Argo,
she's called."

"That's a classical name. Jason's ship."

"Medea sailed on her too, I believe," Alexandra recalled. "She's just returned to port after a voyage to the Middle Sea without him. I think it's that odd-looking narrow one. Some sort of new design, I understand. Faster and more efficient for escaping from Mediterranean corsairs."

Alan squinted out over the water. "My eyesight's not as good as yours. I can hardly see her."

"Would you like to row out for a closer look?"

"Can we?"

Alexandra beckoned a boatman, who rowed his small bark toward them with alacrity. "Why not?" But when she pointed out their destination, the boatman leaned on his oars and looked uneasy.

"'Er master don't like nobody snoopin' around. Took a man out there once, and nearly got an arrow in me back for it."

"Fascinating." Alexandra opened her purse and offered the boatman a silver coin. "I hardly think they would dare shoot at a woman, though. Particularly one of the queen's ladies."

The man eyed the coin with greed and started to reach for it. But he must have thought twice, for he withdrew his hand with obvious reluctance. "Can't do it, milady. Whoever ye be. I've been paid good money not to." He gestured at the other boatmen. "We all been paid."

Alexandra extracted several additional coins. "And if I offer a higher bribe?"

The fellow hesitated, then sighed, "I took 'is money and gave me word." He turned away as if fleeing temptation.

"Wait." Alexandra extended the man the original coin. "Take this anyway. You are an honest man."

"Thank ye, milady." He flashed a totally male smile, making Alexandra aware for the first time that the boatman was young, and reasonably handsome. "And ye're a generous woman."

Alexandra had no compunction about using the feminine wiles she had so painfully acquired over the past few months. She stepped closer as the coin changed hands and looked up at the man through her kohl-tinted lashes. "And why is it, do you suppose, that the master of an honest trading vessel should go to such pains to guard against intruders?" She allowed her eyes to widen as if in fright. "He's not one of those dreadful smugglers, I hope?"

"Oh no, milady. 'E wouldn't come brazenly up the river if that's what 'e was. 'E'd hug the coasts, where ships can slip into an unguarded harbor for a few hours at night, and out again afore morning. That's how the smugglers do it."

"Then why?"

The boatman shrugged. "Who knows? But mariners are a free-thinkin' lot. And them as makes their life on the water 'ave no wish to die in the flames. These are bad times, milady, for 'eretics."

"So they are." She was thoughtful. "Very bad indeed."

"What was the point of all that?" Alan asked as they walked away from the docks.

"Anybody who goes to the trouble of bribing a dozen river boatmen must have something to hide." Were all Roger's crewmen heretics? Was he trying to keep them safe?

"Do you see my brother often?"

"Not often, no. Never alone. He comes to court and I see him there amidst everybody else. We rarely speak. I have been forbidden his company, remember?"

"For your own good."

"What nonsense! Roger represents no threat to me."

Was it her imagination, or did Alan move closer to her?

"I hope you obey your parents with regard to him. He's dangerous in so many ways. I've often wondered what really happened that night in the witch's cottage."

Alexandra successfully fought down a blush. "I thought from what you said earlier that you'd revised your opinion of your brother's villainy."

"Not with regard to women," he said repressively. "I intend to see with my own eyes that he stays away from you."

She was amused. Was this new assertiveness the result of his successful encounter with the widow? "Good heavens, Alan, I don't require your protection."

He gave her a rather charming smile. "You have it, nonetheless."

"Very well, then, I shall rely on you to protect me tonight when we visit Whitcombe House."

Alan’s eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Rumor has it that your brother holds court two evenings a week at your father's town house. Scholars, musicians, mariners, and ladies all gather there for sophisticated debate and conversation. It's the fashionable place to go, and for weeks I've longed to join the fun, but my father's interdict forbade it."

"Your father's interdict still forbids it, Alix."

"My father doesn't have to know. We'll tell him you and I are going out to celebrate my birthday. Knowing my father, he'll be off somewhere tonight anyway."

"And if he finds out you've disobeyed him?"

"He won't. I'll go in disguise."

"Where are you going to get a disguise at this time of day?"

She laughed aloud. "That, you'll discover, is the least of our problems."

Chapter 18