The Tudor Secret (8 page)

Was he capable of doing the same to a princess? For that was what Cecil implied. In order for Elizabeth to inherit, Mary must be dead. I couldn’t pretend to know the inner workings of a man I’d seen a half dozen times at most, whose values were far removed from my own. Was he capable of it? I wouldn’t think he’d shy away, if it came to his own survival. Still, something here troubled me, an assumption it took me a few seconds to disentangle and put into words. Once I did, I stated it bluntly, with conviction.

“Her Grace would never condone it, not if it meant the murder of her own sister.”

“No,” said Cecil, to my relief. “She and Mary have never been close, but you are right. She’d never let herself become embroiled in treason, at least not willingly. It is, I hope, the one fatal flaw in the duke’s plan. He underestimates her. He always has. She would have the throne, but only when, or if, her time comes.”

So, it was treason. The Dudleys plotted treason—against the king and his two sisters. I heard Elizabeth as though her lips were at my ear.

I’d not wish to be associated with their name, then, not when men have lost their heads for far less.

She had warned me. She wasn’t leaving London to return to her country manor, because she had divined what the duke intended and she didn’t want lives endangered for her sake. She’d come to court fully aware of what she risked.

I took out the ring. “Robert wanted me to deliver this. She wouldn’t take it. He doesn’t know yet.”

Cecil let out a long breath. “Thank God.” His smile had no warmth in it. “Your master has overstepped himself. I’m quite sure his father would not have wanted quite so blatant a gesture. This must be in part why Her Grace has insisted on staying. Now that she knows Robert’s ploy, she will try to exploit it to reach her brother.” He regarded me. “I wish you had more time to consider, but as you can surmise, time is the one commodity we lack. We may have only a few days remaining in which to save her.”

I glanced toward the window. I saw a woman enter the garden, leading a limping child by the hand. She smiled as the boy pointed to something I couldn’t see on the river, perhaps a passing boat or flock of swans. She bent over to kiss his cheek, tucking a stray curl under his cap.

Desolation opened in me. I was reminded in that moment of Mistress Alice and, less tenderly, of Master Shelton. The steward would never forgive me for what he could only deem as a betrayal of the family that had kept me alive. But Alice would have understood. Of all the lessons she had instilled in me, the one closest to my heart was being true to one’s self.

But I’d never had the opportunity to exercise that truth. A foundling and probable bastard, a servant with nothing to my name, I had spent my life struggling to survive. I had never looked beyond the demands of the day, except when it came to studying, and that was just so I could get better at surviving. Still, I couldn’t deny that I craved the freedom to make my own destiny, to become the man I wanted to be, not the one my birth condemned me to.

I returned my gaze to Cecil. “What is it you want of me?”

He smiled. “Perhaps the question should be: What do you want? I should think that at the least you’ll expect to be paid.”

I knew what I wanted. What I didn’t know was whether I should trust him with it, even if the situation told me I couldn’t trust anyone else. The question burned inside me unspoken, demanding an answer I wasn’t sure I should seek. What had he said?

The truth is rarely what we hope for.…

I wondered if he was right.

“You needn’t decide right now,” Cecil said. “For now, I can promise you freedom from drudgery for the rest of your days, as well as a permanent post in my service.” He reached for a ledger. A brief silence ensued. Then he said with uncanny insight, “In my experience, however, men usually hunger for more than material appeasement. Do you? Hunger, that is?”

He looked up. I wondered if he saw my hesitation. I recalled again the words that had passed between Lady Dudley and the duchess of Suffolk. There was a truth there, tangled and twisted. But I found I couldn’t speak of it. I couldn’t entrust everything to this man. In the final say, he was still a stranger to me.

When he next spoke, his voice was low. “I make it my duty to study those who cross my path, and you are someone who carries a secret. You hide it well, but I can see it. And if I can, so will others. Take care to guard yourself, lest one day it’s used against you when you least expect it.”

He paused. “I should also tell you that my role in this matter must remain anonymous,” he added. “The princess’s safety must come first, above all else. It goes without saying that you must also follow my orders without deviation or question. Do you understand? Any change you make could put you, and consequently our plan, in danger. You are not the only one working to save her. You will have to learn to trust even those whom you do not like or know.”

I took a deep breath. “I understand.”

“Good. For now, you will continue to attend Lord Robert. Watch everything he says and does. You will be advised of how to report your information when the time comes, as well as any changes in our plans.” From his stack of ledgers he took a folder. He opened it before me. “Herein is a scaled map of Greenwich. Memorize it. I’m not certain when, but I believe that at some time during the festivities for Guilford and Lady Jane’s wedding, the duke will make his move. Before he does, we must get the princess away.”

I nodded and leaned in, surveying the map as Cecil explained my assignment.

The Tudor Secret

I left the Thames-side manor in a daze. The sounds and sights of the city assaulted me, reminding me I was late for my appointment with Robert. I quickened my pace. Cecil had assured me the palace wasn’t too far away. He even offered an escort, which I politely refused. The less I saw of Walsingham and his rough men, the better.

The sun drew random fingers of light over the river. An oppressive humidity hung in the air. The day promised to be sweltering, once the freshness of the morning dissipated, and merchants and vendors were already hurrying about their business.

No one seemed to mark me as I passed, and still I pulled my cap lower on my brow. I was all too aware of the badge on my sleeve, announcing my affiliation, and it required strength of will not to rip it off. I’d have to learn to conceal my revulsion for the Dudleys if I was to convince Robert of my continuing devotion.

A spy: I was going to spy for Master Cecil, to help Princess Elizabeth. It wasn’t a role I could ever have envisioned for myself, even in my wildest moments. Only yesterday I had been riding into London, a callow lad pondering how best to adapt to my new post. One day later, I was returning to my master with treachery in my heart. I found it difficult to sort out my feelings about my own duplicity, until I thought of that frightened young woman standing alone in a corridor in her wine-spattered gown.

What is it you want of me, my gallant squire?

I had traversed several crowded, noisy blocks when I realized I was being followed. Once or twice, I caught a glimpse of the shadow behind me and had to resist the impulse to wheel about to confront it. I set my hand on my dagger, now at my hip. With a taut smile I continued, avoiding the dense undergrowth and trees of the hunting park. Rounding into King Street, which passed under a gateway through Whitehall, I paused to adjust my cap. When I felt the shadow draw close, I said, “Some fool courts a knife in his belly.”

A stricken pause followed. I glanced over my shoulder. “Why are you dodging me?” I asked, and flush-faced Peregrine replied, “You … because you needed my protection.”

“I see. So you witnessed the attack.” I hooked my hands in my belt. “You might have called for help. Or, better yet, gone and fetched some. Or didn’t I pay you enough?”

“I was going to, at first,” he said in a rush, “but I decided to follow you instead, in case they hit you over the head and threw you in the river. I used to fish out corpses for a living. You’re lucky I did, too, because I wasn’t alone.”

“Oh?” I raised my eyes to scan the vicinity. “Someone fished out corpses with you?”

“No.” He sidled up to me, his voice lowering to an urgent whisper. “Someone else is following you. I saw him come out of the trees in the park after you were taken. He crept around the manor while you were inside, peeking in windows and—Ouch!” Peregrine yelped as I grabbed him by his jerkin, thrusting him into a side alley.

He struggled. I clamped a hand to his mouth. “Be still, coxcomb. Whoever you saw back there could be watching at this very moment. Do you want us both to end up in the river?”

His eyes widened. Removing my hand, keeping one eye on the alley’s entrance, I said, “Do you know who he is?”

He nodded, and wormed out from inside his jerkin a pocket dagger. I had to grin. I’d had one just like it when I was a boy, good for slicing apples and hunting squirrel. “Does he know you?”

“No. Or, at least, not by name. He came to the stables a few days ago, but I didn’t attend him. He had two horses stalled. He’s wearing a hood and cloak today, but I recognized him. When he left the stables, he kicked one of the yard mutts. It was just wagging its tail, hoping to be petted, and he kicked it.” Peregrine grimaced. “I hate anyone who kicks a dog.”

“Me, too.” I took off my cap, wiped cold sweat from my brow. Our mystery man hadn’t accosted us, though the alleyway, snaking as it did to a dead end littered with refuse, presented the ideal spot for an ambush. Either he wasn’t willing to reveal himself or he wasn’t yet ready to risk a confrontation. Neither offered consolation.

I opened my pouch to ladle coins into Peregrine’s palm. “Listen closely. I can’t afford to play right now, much as I’d like to. I assume your work can be neglected, seeing as you followed me here, so can you find out where he goes without getting into trouble?”

“I’ve been tiptoeing around him all morning. I’ll find out everything you need to know. Trust me. I can be sly as a snake when I want to.”

“Oh, I’m sure. Here’s what we’ll do.” I explained quickly, then clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder and hauled him back to the street, where I threw him from my side.

“And don’t let me see the likes of you again! Next time, I’ll feed you to my pigs, you thieving knave!”

Peregrine scampered off. Several passersby paused to wag their heads at this evidence of roguery in their midst. I searched my doublet in visible anger, slapped on my cap, and tramped onward, scowling like a man who’s narrowly escaped having his hard-earned wages filched.

I was relieved to reach Whitehall. The main courtyard was full of servants and chamberlains, and I discreetly asked one for directions to the Dudley chamber.

Despite my determination to help the princess and despite Cecil’s explicit trust, I hadn’t been convinced I could look Lord Robert in the face and not give myself away. It was one thing to despise him for using me, quite another to know I had to show an impenetrable front to keep him from achieving his ends. And knowing I was being followed had only added fear to my already extreme case of nerves. If whoever it was had discovered my meeting with Cecil, I thought it safe to assume the intent was not benevolent. Not only was Elizabeth’s safety and that of her sister, Princess Mary, at stake, but my own life could hinge on my ability to complete this task. All I needed to do for the moment, I kept telling myself, was to convince Robert his cause was not lost, only delayed by feminine caprice. As for what came after, given recent events, I thought it best not to look too far ahead.

Inhaling a deep breath, I threw open the chamber door, my excuse ready on my lips.

The room was empty. Only the stripped bed frame and scarred central table remained. On this table were thrown my saddlebag and cloak.

“Finally,” a voice said from behind me. I spun about.

Resplendent in scarlet brocade, his slashed breeches cut short to reveal his muscular thighs and to enhance the protruding splendor of his curled and patterned codpiece, Lord Robert Dudley swaggered into the room.

I bowed low. “My lord, forgive my tardiness. I got lost and—”

“No, no.” He waved a gloved hand, perfuming the air with a distinct scent of musk. “Your first night at court, all that free wine and food, a wench or two—how could you resist?”

His grin was brazen, displaying strong teeth. Not a pleasant grin, but appealing all the same. Much as I hated to admit it, I could see why women responded to him. The grin also indicated to my relief that he wasn’t inclined to see me grovel.

He arched a brow. “You missed the packing, however, not to mention my good news.”

“My lord?” Of course. That was why he looked so smug. He had news.

His dusky eyes glittered. “Yes. I’ve received word from my father that Her Grace has decided to stay to celebrate Guilford’s nuptials. It seems she can’t resist me. And I owe it all to you.” He let out a guffaw, slinging an arm about my shoulders. “Who could have guessed you had such a sweet tongue? We should consider sending you abroad as an ambassador.”

I forced out a grin. “Indeed, my lord. Thus may you take heed of how to woo a lady.”

“Bah!” He thumped my back. “You are a live one, I’ll grant you, but you’ve a ways to go before you’re fit to woo anything other than a tavern slut. I, on the other hand, will soon pay suit to a princess of the blood royal.”

Naturally, he assumed the princess was going to Greenwich because of her interest in him. But at least I had something to report to Cecil. By Robert’s own admission, he confirmed his intent. I could scarcely look at his face, thinking that under that enviable facade lay the soul of a villain.

“Does my lord think she’ll…?” I let my insinuation linger.

“Oblige me?” He played with the fringe of his gauntlets. “How could she not? She may be a princess, but she’s also Nan Boleyn’s daughter. And Nan always had an eye for the gentlemen. But, like her mother, she’ll make me wait. It’s the Boleyn way. She’ll make me beg before I am deemed worthy, just as Nan did to Henry. No matter. It gives us all the more time to bait my snare.”

I detested him in that instant, overcome by the urge to wipe that insufferable superiority off his face. Instead, I found considerable pleasure in removing the ring from my doublet. I extended it. “I certainly hope so, my lord, because she wouldn’t take this from me.”

His self-indulgent expression froze. He stared at the ring in my palm. “Did she say why?” he asked in a flat voice.

“She said you thought too much of yourself. Or too little of her.” I realized I shouldn’t be saying this. I was supposed to encourage his delusions, not crush them. But I couldn’t help myself. Lord Robert Dudley deserved to be yanked down a notch or two.

His jaw clenched. For a moment, I thought he would knock my hand aside. Then he gave a terse laugh. “Well, well. So, she refused my token. Of course, she did. The royal virgin—always presuming on her chastity. It’s her favorite role. We’ll let her have her fun for now, eh?”

The icy mirth in his tone crept down my spine. Then he gestured magnanimously, all charm and ease once more. “Keep the ring. I’ll put a finer one on her finger yet.”

Cuffing my shoulder, he sauntered to the door. “Gather up your things. We’re going to Greenwich, but not by barge. Leave the river to weaklings and women. We’ll ride our steeds over good English soil, like comrades and friends.”

Friends. He thought we were friends now, accomplices in a sordid game of deceit. I bowed, turning to the table. “My lord,” I said in a low voice.

He chuckled. “That’s right, I forgot. I’ll leave you to change. Don’t take too long.” He paused. “Come to think of it, you always were particular as a maiden when it came to undressing,” he mused, and my heart leapt against my ribs. He shrugged. “It’s not as if you’ve anything I haven’t seen before.”

He strolled out, closing the door behind him. I waited until I was certain he wouldn’t return before I furtively divested myself of my rumpled new doublet and good shoes.

I stood in chemise and hose. I had to look. Hooking my hand in my hose, I lowered it to my groin. The large maroon discoloration spilled across my left hip, its edges like wilted petals.

It had been there since birth. Though not uncommon, such blemishes were often dubbed “demon bites” or “Lucifer’s pawprints” by the ignorant and superstitious. I’d learned early to conceal it from prying eyes, particularly those of the Dudley boys, who’d have tormented me all the more. Never had any of them seen me naked.

Mistress Alice had said it was a rose left by the kiss of an angel while I was still in the womb. A fanciful tale, which I’d almost believed. But as I matured, it had been the touch of a real woman, like the maid at the castle who introduced me to pleasure and eased its stigma, that taught me that not everyone was as sensitive to its significance as I was.

La marque de la rose …

I shuddered, yanking up my hose and reaching for my leather jerkin. Rolling up the doublets, I stuffed them into my saddlebag. I’d not told Cecil, not yet, but I would. As soon as I fulfilled my obligations I would ask him to help me discover the truth of my birth, no matter the cost. For now, being Robert Dudley’s new friend was a fine enough start. A friend was trusted, relied upon, confided in—someone we turn to in times of need. And wherever Robert went, there his new friend would be, like a shadow.

I had no doubt that the shadow trailing me wouldn’t be far behind.