Philippa Gregory's Tudor Court 6-Book Boxed Set (220 page)

“Leave me now,” I said feebly. “I can’t say now. I have said too much already. I am sorry for speaking out. I am sorry if I angered you.”

But his anger had left him as quickly as it had come, and that was another thing that I liked in him.

“Shall I come again?”

“All right.”

“Are we still betrothed?”

I shrugged. There was too much riding on my answer.
“I
haven’t broken it,” I said, finding the easiest way out. “It’s not broken yet.”

He nodded. “I shall need to know,” he warned me. “If I am not to marry you, then I could marry another. I shall want to marry within two years; you, or another girl.”

“You have so many to choose from?” I taunted him, knowing that he had not.

“There are many girls in London,” he returned. “I could marry outside our kin, well enough.”

“I can see them allowing that!” I exclaimed. “You’ll have to marry a Jew, there’s no escape from that. They will send you a fat Parisian or a girl with skin the color of mud from Turkey.”

“I would try to be a good husband even to a fat Parisian or to a young girl from Turkey,” he said steadily. “And it is more important to love and cherish the wife that God gives you than to run after some silly maid who does not know her own mind.”

“Would that be me?” I asked sharply.

I expected his color to rise but this time he did not blush. He met my eyes frankly and it was I who looked away first. “I think you are a silly maid if you turn from the love and protection of a man who would be a good husband, to a life of deceit at court.”

My father came up beside Daniel before I could reply, and put a hand on his shoulder.

“And so you two are getting acquainted,” he said hopefully. “What d’you make of your wife-to-be, Daniel?”

I expected Daniel to complain of me to my father. Most young men would have been all a-prickle with their pride stinging, but he gave me a small rueful smile. “I think we are coming to know each other,” he said gently. “We have overleaped being polite strangers and reached disagreement very quickly, don’t you think, Hannah?”

“Commendably quick,” I said, and was rewarded by the warmth of his smile.

*  *  *

Lady Mary came to London for the Candlemas feast, as had been planned; it seemed that no one had told her that her brother was too sick to rise from his bed. She rode in through the palace gate of Whitehall with a great train behind her, and was greeted at the very threshold of the palace by the duke, with his sons, including Lord Robert, at his side, and the council of England bowing low before her. Seated high on her horse, her small determined face looking down at the sea of humbly bowing heads, I thought I saw a smile of pure amusement cross her lips before she put down her hand to be kissed.

I had heard so much about her, the beloved daughter of the king who had been put aside on the word of Anne Boleyn, the whore. The princess who had been humbled to dust, the mourning girl who had been forbidden to see her dying mother. I had expected a figure of tragedy: she had endured a life which would have broken most women; but what I saw was a stocky little fighter with enough wit about her to smile at the court, knocking their noses on their knees because, suddenly, she was the heir with formidable prospects.

The duke treated her as if she were queen already. She was helped from her horse and led in to the banquet. The king was in his chamber, coughing and retching in his little bed; but they had the banquet anyway, and I saw the Lady Mary look round at the beaming faces as if to note that when the heir was in the ascendant, a king could lie sick and alone, and no one mind at all.

There was dancing after dinner but she did not rise from her seat, though she tapped her foot and seemed to enjoy the music. Will made her laugh a couple of times, and she smiled on him as if he were a familiar face in a dangerous world. She had known him when he was her father’s fool and given her brother piggyback rides, and sung nonsense songs at her and sworn it was Spanish. When she looked around the court now at the hard faces of the men who had seen her insulted and humiliated by her own baby brother it must have been a small relief to know that Will Somers at least never changed in his unswerving good humor.

She did not drink deeply, and she ate very little; she was not a famous glutton as her father had been. I looked her over, as did the court: this woman who might be my next mistress. She was a woman in her thirty-seventh year, but she still had the pretty coloring of a girl: pale skin and cheeks which readily flushed rosy pink. She wore her hood set back off her square honest face and showed her hair, dark brown with a tinge of Tudor red. Her smile was her great charm; it came slowly, and her eyes were warm. But what struck me most about her was her air of honesty. She did not look at all like my idea of a princess—having spent a few weeks at court I thought everyone there smiled with hard eyes and said one thing and meant the opposite. But this princess looked as if she said nothing that she did not mean, as if she longed to believe that others were honest too, that she wanted to ride a straight road.

She had a grim little face in repose, but it was all redeemed by that smile: the smile of the best-beloved princess, the first of her father’s children, born when he was a young man who still adored his wife. She had quick dark eyes, Spanish eyes, from her mother and her rapid appreciation of everything around her. She held herself upright in her chair, the dark collar of her gown framing her shoulders and neck. She had a great jeweled cross at her throat as if to flaunt her religion in this most Protestant court, and I thought that she must be either very brave or very reckless to insist on her faith when her brother’s men were burning heretics for less. But then I saw the tremor in her hand when she reached for her golden goblet and I imagined that like many women she had learned to put on a braver face than she might feel.

When there was a break in the dancing, Robert Dudley was at her side, whispering to her, and she glanced over to me and he beckoned me forward.

“I hear you are from Spain, and my brother’s new fool,” she said in English.

I bowed low. “Yes, Your Grace.”

“Speak Spanish,” Lord Robert commanded me, and I bowed again and told her in Spanish that I was glad to be at court.

When I looked up I saw the delight in her face at hearing her mother’s language. “What part of Spain?” she asked eagerly in English.

“Castile, Your Grace,” I lied at once. I did not want any inquiries made of us and of my family’s destruction in our home of Aragon.

“And why did you come to England?”

I was prepared for the question. My father and I had discussed the dangers of every answer and settled on the safest. “My father is a great scholar,” I said. “He wanted to print books from his library of manuscripts, and he wanted to work in London, which is such a center of learning.”

At once the smile left her, and her face grew harder. “I suppose he turns out copies of the Bible to mislead people who cannot begin to understand it,” she said crossly.

My gaze slid to Robert Dudley, who had bought one of my father’s Bibles newly translated into English.

“In the Latin only,” he said smoothly. “A very pure translation, Lady Mary, and with very few errors. I daresay Hannah will bring you one, if you would like.”

“My father would be honored,” I said.

She nodded. “And you are my brother’s holy fool,” she said. “D’you have any words of wisdom for me?”

I shook my head helplessly. “I wish I could see at will, Your Grace. I am much less wise than you, I should think.”

“She told my tutor John Dee that she could see an angel walking with us,” Robert put in.

The Lady Mary looked at me with more respect.

“But then she told my father that she saw no angels behind him.”

Her face at once creased into laughter. “No! Did she? And what said your father? Was he sorry not to have an angel at his side?”

“I don’t think he was very surprised,” Robert said, smiling too. “But this is a good little maid, and I think she does have a true gift. She has been a great comfort to your brother in his illness. She has a gift of seeing the truth and speaking true, and he likes that.”

“That alone is a rare gift to find at court,” the Lady Mary said. She nodded kindly to me and I stepped back and the music started up again. I kept my eye on Robert Dudley as he led out one young lady and then another to dance before the Lady Mary, and I was rewarded when after some minutes he glanced over to me and gave me a hidden approving smile.

*  *  *

The Lady Mary did not see the king that night but the chambermaids’ gossip was that when she went into his room the next day she came out again, white as a winding sheet. She had not known till then that her little brother was so near to his death.

After that, there was no reason for her to stay. She rode out as she had come, with a great retinue following behind, and all the court bowing as low as they could reach, to indicate their newfound loyalty; half of them praying silently that, when the young king died and she came to the throne, she would be blessed with forgetfulness and overlook the priests they had burned at the stake, and the churches they had despoiled.

I was watching this charade of humility from one of the palace windows when I felt a gentle touch on my sleeve. I turned, and there was Lord Robert, smiling down at me.

“My lord, I thought you would be with your father, saying good-bye to the Lady Mary.”

“No, I came to find you.”

“For me?”

“To ask you if you would do me a service?”

I felt my color rise to my cheeks. “Anything…” I stammered.

He smiled. “Just one small thing. Would you come with me to my tutor’s rooms, and see if you can assist him in one of his experiments?”

I nodded and Lord Robert took my hand and, drawing it into the crook of his arm, led me to the Northumberland private quarters. The great doors were guarded by Northumberland men, and as soon as they saw the favored son of the house they snapped to attention and swung the double doors open. The great hall beyond was deserted, the retainers and the Northumberland court were in the Whitehall garden demonstrating their immense respect to the departing Lady Mary. Lord Robert led me up the grand stairs, through a gallery, to his own rooms. John Dee was seated in the library overlooking an inner garden.

He raised his head as we came into the room. “Ah, Hannah Verde.”

It was so odd for me to hear my real name, given in full, that for a moment I did not respond, and then I dipped a little bow. “Yes, sir.”

“She says she will help. But I have not told her what you want,” Lord Robert said.

Mr. Dee rose from the table. “I have a special mirror,” he said. “I think it possible that, one with special sight might see rays of light that are not visible to the ordinary eye, d’you understand?”

I did not.

“Just as we cannot see a sound or a scent, but we know that something is there, I think it possible that the planets and the angels send out rays of light, which we might see if we had the right glass to see them in.”

“Oh,” I said blankly.

The tutor broke off with a smile. “No matter. You need not understand me. I was only thinking that since you saw the angel Uriel that day, you might see such rays in this mirror.”

“I don’t mind looking, if Lord Robert wishes it,” I volunteered.

He nodded. “I have it ready. Come in.” He led the way to an inner chamber. The window was shielded by a thick curtain, all the cold winter light blocked out. A square table was placed before it, the four legs standing on four wax seals. On top of the table was an extraordinary mirror of great beauty, a gold-wrought frame, a beveled rim, and a golden sheen on the silvering. I stepped up to it and saw myself, reflected in gold, looking not like the boy-girl I was, but like a young woman. For a moment I thought I saw my mother looking back at me, her lovely smile and that gesture when she turned her head. “Oh!” I exclaimed.

“D’you see anything?” Dee asked. I could hear the excitement in his voice.

“I thought I saw my mother,” I whispered.

He paused for a moment. “Can you hear her?” he asked, his voice shaking.

I waited for a moment, longing with all my heart that she would come to me. But it was only my own face that looked back at me, my eyes enlarged and darkened by unshed tears.

“She’s not here,” I said sadly. “I would give anything to hear her voice, but I cannot. She has gone from me. I just thought that I saw her for a moment; but it is my own face in the mirror.”

“I want you to close your eyes,” he said, “and listen carefully to the prayer that I am going to read. When you say “amen” you can open your eyes again and tell me what you see. Are you ready?”

I closed my eyes and I could hear him softly blowing out the few candles illuminating the shadowy room. Behind me I was conscious of Lord Robert sitting quietly on a wooden chair. I wanted only to please him. “I am ready,” I whispered.

It was a long prayer in Latin, I understood it despite Mr. Dee’s English pronunciation of the words. It was a prayer for guidance and for the angels to come and protect the work we would do. I whispered “amen” and then I opened my eyes.