The Tudor Secret (16 page)

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.”

The Tudor Secret

When I awoke the next morning, it was to an empty bed. I was taken aback. Then I chuckled, passing a hand over my tousled hair. The trestle table had been dismantled, the stools set in a row against the wall. Folded in a pile by the bed were the clothes she’d brought me. Otherwise, it was as if Kate hadn’t been here at all.

I started to slide out of bed when the door opened. She appeared with towel, basin, and a small coffer—once again in her russet gown, her hair braided, neat as if she’d spent an uneventful night. I hugged her as she set the articles down, drowning out her feigned protest with my mouth. She clung to me for a moment before she pushed me away.

“Enough.” She went to retrieve a tray. “Walsingham is downstairs. He wants to see you as soon as you break your fast.”

“That’s what I was trying to do.” I reached out to grab her again.

She pranced away, elusive as dandelion seed. “You’ll have to content yourself with last night, for that’s all I plan to give until you put a roof over my head.” She tossed the towel at me.

I laughed. “This from the wanton who assured me she had all she wanted last night.”

“A woman can always change her mind. Now, behave yourself whilst I wash you.”

I affected a penitent stance, though it took concentration as she cleaned me from head to foot, lathering and rinsing without discrimination. Only when she undid my bandage to replace it did I wince. “Does it hurt?” she asked.

“A bit.” I glanced at the wound. It was as ugly as I expected. “Corrupted?”

“It was. But you’re fortunate. The ball shredded and took a few layers of skin, nothing more.” From the coffer she extracted a jar and proceeded to swab green salve over my shoulder. I stood immobile. Like Mistress Alice, she was an herbalist.

“It’s a French recipe,” she explained, “rosemary, turpentine, and rose oil. It hastens healing.” With expert fingers she applied a fresh bandage, tucking it under my armpit. “It’ll have to suffice. It’s uncomfortable, but I’m assuming a few more days in bed are out of the question.”

I pecked the tip of her nose. “You know me too well.”

She helped me into my clothes—shirt, new leather jerkin, breeches, and a belt with a pouch. I was surprised when she produced soft kid boots in almost my exact size.

“Peregrine bought them at the local market. He got himself a cap and cloak, as well. He says he’s going to be your manservant once you get rich.”

“He’s got a long wait.” I turned about. “Presentable?”

“A prince.” She served me bread and cheese and dark ale, which we consumed in companionable silence, though I could sense her anxiety.

“Is it bad news?” I finally said.

“With Walsingham, it usually is. But I’ve no idea what he wants. He didn’t say anything other than that I fetch you.” She grimaced. “Now that I’m no longer required, I’ve reverted to being another ignorant woman in his eyes. Never mind that I’m as able as any hooligan he could hire, or can pick locks and intrigue with the best of them.”

“Not to mention, you’ve a temper. If I were him, I’d watch my step.”

“You’re the one who needs to watch his step.” Kate faced me as she’d done that afternoon—it seemed ages ago—in the gallery at Greenwich. “Whatever he wants of you, you can rest assured it won’t be safe.”

“I thought he helped save my life,” I reminded her.

“He did. That doesn’t mean I trust him with it. He’s a serpent, out for his own advantage. I don’t think even Cecil can control him.” Her voice wavered. “Promise me you’ll not agree to anything dangerous. I said I’ll go to Hatfield and I will, but I don’t want to spend all my time sick with worry over you.”

I nodded solemnly. “I promise. Now, show me the way.”

She pointed to the door. “Down the stairs and to your right. He’s in the study off the hall.” She turned away. “I’ll be in the garden, hanging sheets.”

The image brought a smile to my face as I took the stairs to the ground floor and moved through the country house, which was sparsely furnished, a refreshing change after the spiked opulence of court. Outside the hall I paused before a door and took a deep breath.

I pulled it open. Like Kate, I likened Walsingham to a serpentine presence. His alleged contribution to my survival had done nothing to change this impression. Rather, it was unnerving to know that the man had been ghosting me since Whitehall, watching but not interfering, until that night on the leads. I wasn’t convinced of his motives but hid my discomfort at the sight of his gaunt figure seated at the desk, Urian’s head resting on his thigh.

“Squire Prescott.” His spidery hand caressed Urian with hypnotic repetition. “You’ve recovered with alacrity, I see. The vigor of youth, and of a woman’s care, are indeed a marvel.”

His tone indicated he knew more of said care than I preferred. I had to force myself not to order Urian away, appalled by the dog’s lack of discernment.

“I was told you wanted to see me?”

“Ever to the point.” His bloodless lips twitched. “Why waste time on the superfluous?”

“I hope you weren’t expecting a friendly chat.”

“I never expect anything.” His hand paused in its stroking of the dog’s ears. “That’s what makes life so interesting. People never fail to surprise.” He gestured to a stool opposite his. “Pray, sit. All I require is your attention.”

Because my shoulder was starting to pain me, I obliged. I had that vague feeling of unease I now recognized. Cecil and his men seemed to exude it like disease.

“Jane Grey and Guilford Dudley have been taken to the Tower,” he said without warning.

I bolted upright on my chair. “Arrested?”

“No. It’s traditional for a sovereign to lodge there before the coronation.” He eyed me.

“I see.” My voice tightened. “So, they’re going to do it. They’re going to force the crown on that innocent girl’s head, regardless.”

“That innocent girl, as you call her, is a traitor. She usurps another woman’s throne and now awaits her coronation with all the dignitaries of the court at her side. Thus far, the only compunction she’s shown is her continued refusal to allow her husband to be crowned alongside her—to the collective Dudley fury.”

I contained my revulsion. Of course Walsingham would brand Jane Grey a traitor. It was always easier to view the world through the prism of his convenience.

“By ‘another woman,’ ” I said, “I assume you mean the Lady Mary.”

“Of course. Any change in the succession would require the sanction of Parliament. I doubt our proud duke has gone so far as to request official approval of his treason. So, by law, and Henry the Eighth’s will of succession, Lady Mary is our rightful queen.”

I paused, deliberating. “But the council has agreed to uphold Jane as queen? Northumberland doesn’t act alone?” I was thinking of the duchess, of her threats to bring down the Dudleys. If she raised protest against this usurpation of her rights, it could buy both princesses the time they needed.

Again I received his unblinking stare. “What exactly do you ask, squire?”

“Nothing. I just want to clarify the situation.” I watched him fold his hands at his chin. Deprived of his caresses, Urian lay down on the floor with a dejected sigh.

“The council members would agree to anything to save their skins,” continued Walsingham. “The duke has badgered them into submission with threats that he has enough ammunition in the Tower to crush any revolt in Mary’s name. He’s also garrisoned the surrounding castles. Still, our sources indicate not a few of his so-called associates would as quickly see him hang as give him further rein over England. He’s made more enemies than is safe for any man. He may also soon face significant opposition from the Lady Mary herself.”

It was the longest speech I had heard from him, and it held a few unexpected surprises.

“Significant?” I said carefully. “I understood her Catholicism and doubtful legitimacy made her anything but.”

“It would be wiser not to discredit her quite yet.”

“I see. What is it you want of me?”

“The duke has not yet officially announced Edward’s death; however, with Jane Grey in the Tower awaiting coronation, it can’t be long in coming. Mary has let it be known she’s at her manor of Hoddesdon, from where she continues to issue demands for information. We suspect someone at court has warned her to stay away. She has no resources to draw upon, however, and few will risk themselves for a princess whose own father and brother declared her a bastard and whose faith is at odds with their own. There is the possibility she’ll flee the country, but we think it more likely she’ll head for the northern border and her Catholic noble strongholds.”

As if it were the most ordinary circumstance between us, Walsingham withdrew an envelope from his sleeve. “We want you to deliver this.”

I didn’t take it. “I assume that isn’t a safe conduct to Spain.”

“Its contents,” he replied, “are of no concern to you.”

I stood. “I beg to differ. Its contents could be my death, judging from past events. I’m as loyal as the next man, but even I have my limits. I need to know what it says before I agree to anything. And if you are not authorized to tell me,” I added pointedly, “I suggest you tell Cecil to come here instead.”

He deliberated for a moment. “Very well.” He gave me a slight incline of his head. “It’s from a few select lords on the council, an explanation of their predicament, if you will. It offers Mary their support, should she choose to fight for her throne. They would prefer she not abandon England, an absent queen being even less desirable than an illegal one.”

“Hedging our bets, are we? She must have become quite significant, indeed.”

“Accept the job or decline. It makes no difference to me. I can hire a dozen couriers.”

Cecil was behind this, naturally; he had seen the way the matter could go. I had no illusions as to whether he wanted the duke’s daughter-in-law or the Catholic heir on the throne, and so I took my time, smiling and patting my knee, enticing Urian to my side.

Walsingham’s black eyes turned stony.

After enough time had elapsed to establish I was no longer his for the taking, I said, “Since our last engagement, my rate has gone up.”

It pleased me to note that he visibly relished the introduction of money. It put us squarely in his terrain, where everything was open to negotiation. He removed a leather pouch from his doublet. “We are willing to double your fee, half in advance. If you do not deliver the letter or if Mary is captured, you forfeit the second half. Would you like me to put it in writing?”

I took the pouch and the letter. “That won’t be necessary. I can always take care of any misunderstandings when I next see Cecil.” I walked to the door and paused. “Anything else?”

He stared at me. “Yes. As you may know, time is of the essence. You must get to her before the duke’s men. We also don’t think it’s wise for you to use your real name. You are now Daniel Beecham, son of Lincolnshire gentry. The persona is real enough; Cecil patronized the family before its demise. Daniel’s mother died in childbed, his father died in Scotland. The boy himself was under Cecil’s care until his own death years ago. Your beard should help with the disguise, so don’t shave it. Master Beecham would be two years older than you if he were alive.”

“So, I’m finally a dead man. My enemies will be pleased.”

“It’s for your protection,” he said humorlessly.

I smiled. “Yes, I’ve been told how protective you are. I heard about your ill-timed venture to the stables while I was otherwise engaged, and of your aborted intervention on the leads. I can’t help but wonder about the time before, when I was trapped in the monk’s cell. It was you who found my jerkin by the lake, wasn’t it? You dropped it at the entrance to alert Peregrine and Barnaby. A rather passive attempt, but I suppose I shouldn’t complain.” I reached for the door latch, resisting the jab in my shoulder. “Am I free to go?”

“In a minute.” Walsingham’s eyes flicked to Urian, who stood attentively by me. “Henry Dudley didn’t fire the shot that hit you.”

I didn’t move.

“The steward Master Shelton held the pistol. I saw him take aim from the window. I thought you should know. He is, I believe, someone you trust?”

“Not anymore,” I said, and I strode out.

*   *   *

In the hall, a scullery girl emptied the hearth of cinders. With a shy smile she indicated the way to the garden, which I found enclosed by walls and windswept with the scent of lavender.

Kate was doing as she said—hanging sheets on a line to dry. I crept up behind her, wrapped my arms about her waist. “Did you scrub them yourself?” I breathed in her ear. With a gasp, she let a pillowcase fly from her hand. Urian barked in delight, jumping up to seize it in midair. He trotted off with his trophy, tail held high.

Kate turned on me. “I’ll have you know Holland cloth doesn’t come cheap. Unless you indeed plan on getting rich, we’ve a household to economize for.”

“I’ll buy you a hundred pillowcases in Egyptian silk, if you like.” I pressed the pouch in her hand. As she felt its weight, her eyes widened. She searched my face. Before she could voice the question that hung between us, I pulled her to me.

In my arms, she whispered, “When?”

I replied softly, “As soon as I can let go of you.”

*   *   *

That night, as I finished packing my saddlebag for the trip, a knock came at my door. I suspected before I went to answer it who it was; neither Kate nor Peregrine would have requested admittance, and Walsingham would never climb stairs to see a hireling.

She stood in the passageway, cloaked head to toe in black velvet. Kate paused on the landing of the staircase behind her, a flickering candle in hand. As she met my eyes, I nodded. She turned away, but not before I saw her troubled expression.

I stepped aside. As Elizabeth moved into the room, I felt again that magnetic lure she seemed to exude like a scent. She pulled down her hood; it crumpled in soft waves about her long throat. She wore no jewelry, her fiery hair caught in a braided net. There were, I noticed, dark circles about her expressive eyes, as if she had spent a sleepless night.

I bowed low. “Your Grace, this is an unexpected honor.”