‘How are you, Uncle? I hope they are feeding you properly, and you are allowed some fresh air?’ Cat untied her cloak and draped it on the back of her chair before sitting down near the small table in front of the fire that was burning merrily in the grate.
‘Hell’s teeth, girly,’ growled Norfolk, uncorking one of the bottles and pouring a generous measure into a battered pewter cup, ‘have you any idea how much longer I’m to be kept in here?’ He gestured round the room with his mug before throwing himself into the other chair opposite. Cat smiled and deliberately kept her voice light.
‘I have been away from court for a while, Monseigneur, so I haven’t heard any gossip or rumour. But I’m sure the Lord Protector will examine the charges against you and act appropriately.’
‘Hmmph!’ Norfolk spoke into his cup, muffling his words. ‘That Seymour vermin will keep me in here to rot, girly! If he would execute his own brother, there’s not much chance for me.’
‘Ned Seymour had no other choice than to declare Tom guilty,’ said Cat soothingly, ‘as he tried to kidnap the King in front of many of the court, while he was drunk.’
‘Ha! Idiot!’ Norfolk rose to pour himself another cup of wine, and Cat was grateful that she had made sure it was carefully watered. Her mother Mary had taught her well.
She smiled inwardly. Some of her earliest memories were visits to the blacksmith’s forge at Hever, and playing with the children of the village while the smith beat the cups back into shape after a visit from Norfolk. Her mother would buy herbs and salves from the village wise women, while she and her brother Henry had played at the side of the stream with the smith’s children. Gazing at the battered cup in Norfolk’s hand as he took another long drink made her suppress a smile at the thought that her uncle was still in the habit of throwing his cup into the fire when irritated.
‘I will speak with John Dudley when I get back to court, Monseigneur. See if your case can be re-examined.’
‘Hell’s teeth, another upstart on the Privy Council! I can’t think he would have any more sympathy for the Howard name than that Seymour snake. Even the King is one of them.’ Norfolk carried on muttering into his wine.
‘King Edward is growing into a fine young King, Monseigneur. He takes advice from his councillors but he still has his own opinions.’
‘That’ll be his father in him then, because God knows his milk-sop mother never had an opinion of her own that her brother didn’t tell her she had! And I can’t see that I will be released while Ned Seymour drips poison into the King’s ear about us.’
‘He is leading an army into Scotland soon, Uncle. The Earl of Warwick too. So it will be Cecil and Wriothesley that head the Council while Somerset and Warwick are away.’
‘Clerks! The country will be run by a boy and some clerks, girly. Then what will we do? When we can’t overcome Scotland and we come home beaten? And what if one of them is killed? Who will run the country then? The clerks and the boy? Hell’s teeth!’
‘Both Francis and Ralph are confident that we will win in Scotland, Uncle.’ Cat saw her uncle’s brows rise in a question. ‘My husband Francis, and Sir Ralph Sadler, Uncle. They advise the Council. They say the campaign will be successful.’
‘Hmmph! Cromwell’s clerks! I miss Cromwell you know, girly. Even if he was a Lutheran. He knew his job. The country misses him.’ Norfolk’s words were starting to slur and his eyelids droop with the heat of the fire and the wine he had consumed. A snore rumbled in his chest.
Cat stood and replaced her cloak around her shoulders, then tiptoed to the door at the side of the chamber. She knew that Norfolk’s manservant would be in the antechamber, and she didn’t want to leave without telling someone her Uncle had fallen asleep. Then she made her way down the winding stair and outside onto the jetty, to find a boatman to take her back to Westminster and her place at court.
***
‘Bring my shawl, Cat. I want to walk outside by the water and I don’t know if I shall be cold.’ Elizabeth picked up a book and went through the gallery door into the garden, followed by two of her ladies. Cat grasped the warm shawl from on top of the ottoman and followed swiftly.
They walked along the paths bordered by rose bushes just beginning to bud, the glossy leaves holding onto drops of dew in the early morning. Elizabeth walked slowly, reading her book as she walked. Cat walked slightly behind her, looking down the river towards the Tower and the other ladies were gossiping and giggling behind them. Suddenly, from the opposite end of the garden there came a shout, and the tall figure of Robert Dudley came into view, running towards them and waving his cap.
‘Princess! Princess, wait! I have news!’ Robert ran up to them, scattering gravel with his fine leather boots as he stopped suddenly in front of Elizabeth, who looked up from her book into his excited face. He bowed gracefully, despite his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Elizabeth extended her hand and he kissed her fingers gently, meeting her eyes with his.
‘What is your news, Robbie?’ Elizabeth smiled up at him as he straightened from his bow.
‘I am going to Scotland with my father and Lord Somerset,’ Robert said proudly, replacing his cap on his head and offering his arm to Elizabeth. Elizabeth stiffened at his words, then turned to speak to Cat, handing her the book and taking her shawl from Cat’s arm.
‘We shall sit just over there, Cat, on that stone bench. Please make sure we aren’t disturbed.’ Robert escorted Elizabeth to the seat at the side of the water and sat beside her, placing the shawl carefully round her shoulders before taking her cold hand in his own.
‘My father says I am old enough to go on a campaign with him. Old enough to learn war craft.’ Robert’s words were falling over themselves in his excitement. Elizabeth looked at him with her dark eyes.
‘You are leaving me, Robbie. What shall I do?’ Elizabeth’s voice was low and shaking. Robert rubbed her hand with his own.
‘My father says that it won’t be a long campaign, Bess. I shall only be a squire, and in no danger. But I shall be there, Bess. Watching and learning.’ Robert’s eyes shone at the thought of being involved in the Scottish campaign, even as a lowly squire.
‘But what shall I do, Robbie? While you are away, what shall I do?’
‘Learn, Bess. Ask the King if you can join in with the statecraft lessons and learn that. William Cecil and Thomas Wriothesley will still be here. When you marry, you will be allied to some great state and will need to know how to run it. You might have your own kingdom one day.’
‘I don’t know who I might marry, Robbie. I don’t think I even want to marry.’ Elizabeth chewed her lower lip as she contemplated her fate in the marriage market.
‘You won’t be given a choice, Bess. They will marry you to forge an alliance, with France perhaps, to a Valois prince, or a Guise. Or to a Hapsburg in Germany. But whomever you marry, you will need to know how a country is run, to advise your husband.’
‘I don’t want a husband, Robbie. I want ….’ Elizabeth’s eyes dropped to where Robert still held her hand and she watched his long delicate fingers entwine with her own small ones. She raised her eyes and looked directly at him.
‘I want you not to leave.’ She shrugged and dropped her eyes. ‘But you must go. You must learn to be a soldier, like your father.’ Elizabeth stood abruptly and swung round to face Robert, skirt belling out around her as she turned and fixed him with her gaze.
‘And I will stay and learn how to be a King, like mine.’
Elizabeth gripped Robert’s hands with both her own and he stood at her insistence. She began to whisper urgently and he had to bend his head to hear her words.
‘Write to me, Robbie. Tell me what it is like to be a soldier, the tactics and strategy. I shall
be here when you return. Return to me.’ Robert pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes briefly.
‘I shall, Bess. I shall miss you, and I shall write. And you must write and tell me what you have learned, the diplomacy and the way to run a country. And I shall come back.’ As Elizabeth gazed at him, a tear fell and he thumbed it away, then stroked her cheek gently and kissed her forehead.
‘Come back soon.’ she whispered.
Chapter 3
steemed Princess
I have a few moments to write to you while we are in camp. The men’s morale is high as we move slowly up the Great North Road towards the Scots. We have reached Peterborough and made camp while the quartermaster re-stocks the provisions wagons and the men rest.
I am pleased that I am in my father’s entourage, on horseback and with a tent to sleep in at night; I would not care for the lot of a foot soldier, Bess. They march through mud and water and much worse, behind the horses. They sleep outside whatever the weather, and the food is meagre, dried meat, dried biscuits and sour ale. But they sing as they march when the weather is fine, and they seem in good cheer. The prospect of fighting the Scots seems a welcome one to an Englishman.
Squiring for my father is hard work, my Princess. My brother Henry and I are responsible for the tack for the horses, making sure the armour is polished and in good repair and all his possessions are packed and unpacked carefully when we make camp. But oh, Bess, after the strategy meetings with the commanders, my father takes the time to explain what is to happen, how the battles will be fought. War craft is fascinating, the tactics and strategies as you said. I shall be able to tell you much when I return. Henry and I are learning so much.
I hope this letter finds you well, and learning your own craft of state. Tell me of what you learn, how things are at court and in the school room, tell me all your news. I shall write again, but probably not until we reach York and make proper camp for a few days. My father wants to try and recruit more soldiers to our cause before we face the Scottish horde.
Take care of yourself, dearest Bess, and try not to chew your poor lip if you get anxious. Make sure you eat properly, and rest when you are tired, and write back soon telling me how you are.
With much humble affection, esteemed Princess, I am your servant. Robert.
Elizabeth read and re-read the letter, tilting it this way and that to catch the light from the mullioned window. She knew that Robbie was enjoying himself on campaign with his father and Somerset, but she hoped the war would be over soon and he would return to her. Going to the writing table in the corner of her apartment, she found parchment and a quill, and began her reply.
My dear Robbie
Your life seems very different now to what it was at court, but mine stays very much the same.
Master Ascham is still drumming Latin and other languages into us, although your brother Guildford has no interest in learning them. My brother Edward is so proficient now that he challenges Master Ascham to best him. Jane Grey is almost as good as Edward, but her sister is not. I think Edward is half in love with Jane, she is so clever, but they are children still.
William Cecil and the Earl of Southampton, who used to be plain Thomas Wriothesley both consult with Edward about the ruling of the kingdom, and I am allowed to sit with them, and listen. If I have questions, then Master Cecil is always happy to answer; I find him most approachable and patient with me. Southampton is quite the opposite, hard and pious and implacable. Edward wishes to promote the Protestant faith through the country, giving the people the chance to read the bible themselves and worship without the papist iconography but Southampton is proving stubborn, and is delaying any such edict from the King. I think Edward is becoming quite impatient. We shall see.
My cousin Cat Knollys is expecting another child, although it is still early. She has asked that, if the baby is a girl, could she name her Elizabeth after me. I am flattered and honoured that she would want to do so. I so hope the Scottish campaign is over and you are home before she retires from court. I feel very lonely sometimes, and I need a friendly face nearby. If I haven’t got Cat, then I shall need you, Robbie. So much.
Please take care of yourself. I am pleased you are enjoying being on the march, but make sure you don’t take a chill and become sick. I couldn’t bear that. I hope you will write again from York. I shall send this with Edward’s next set of papers to your father, and wait impatiently for your reply. God bless you, Robbie.
Elizabeth, Princess of England
Elizabeth sanded the letter so the ink didn’t smudge, then folded it carefully and sealed it with the red wax, imprinting her cipher into the wax while it was soft. She decided to entrust it to Cecil to send it with the despatches to the campaign, which would ensure that Robbie received it within a day or so.
***
My Esteemed Princess
We have finally made our proper camp, at Berwick. The march from York was long and difficult for the men. As I wrote you from York, the foreign troops my father has engaged have arrived and on this difficult journey from Yorkshire into Northumberland, Henry and I have been able to speak with them a little and learn about their weapons as well as their sea journey from Antwerp.
My father explained that they sailed from the Low Countries to the River Humber, and thence up the Ouse to York so the spies from France might not know and inform the Scottish Lords quite so soon. Any advantage of time will help our cause, Bess.
The Germanic mercenaries are quite frightening, with their sharp pikes and implacable countenance. But the Italian arquebusiers are happy to speak with us, and show us their amazing weapons. I shall be fluent in Italian when next we meet.
I miss you so much, my Princess. I miss our peaceful walks and I miss our talks as we practiced our languages. When I return, I look forward to speaking with you in Italian, which has the most romantic cadences within it.
I hope you are still finding your statecraft lessons interesting and absorbing. You will be able to teach me that when I return. We are in the process of forming an attack on Stirling, so I will write again afterward to tell you of our success. Until then, I remain your most affectionate and humble servant. Robert.
Elizabeth placed the letter carefully in the treasure box on her bureau with all the others, and then turned to Cat.
‘They are planning an attack on Stirling, Cat. I so hope Robbie will be safe.’ Elizabeth worried her bottom lip with her teeth.
‘His father won’t let him too near the battle, Princess. He is a squire, not a soldier quite yet. I‘m sure he will be safe.’
Elizabeth smiled slightly at her cousin, but Cat could see by the look in her eyes that her words had not brought Elizabeth much comfort.
‘If you wish to reply to his letter, Princess, I can ask Ralph Sadler to take it with him when he goes up to Berwick.’ Cat spoke carefully, in order that the other ladies didn’t hear her and spread gossip.
‘Why is Ralph going up, Cat?’ Elizabeth sat on the window seat near Cat’s chair and spoke in a low voice.
‘Somerset has run out of funds to pay the troops, Princess. He has told the council that the mercenaries he has hired from abroad won’t stay unless they are paid in coin. Francis has asked not to be sent, as I am so near my time.’ They both looked down at Cat’s swelling belly and smiled.
‘So Ralph is to go, with sufficient gold to finance the rest of the campaign. He will be happy to take your letter with him, and perhaps bring a reply back to you. He is not staying too long, Princess. Meg wouldn’t like him gone long.’
‘How is Meg, Cat? We seldom see her at court now, and I miss her calmness sometimes.’
‘She is well, Princess. Her morning sickness has subsided and she is well again now. She
is not as far along as I am, so Ralph will be back in plenty of time for her next confinement.’ Cat smiled at the thought of her friend having another child so soon after her last. The nursery at Sutton House was brimming with children, hers and Meg’s. They would have to engage more nursemaids soon.
‘I shall write a reply now, Cat, so Ralph can take it for me and give it straight to Robbie without it having to go to his father first. Or Somerset.’ Her face darkened at that last name, although she walked calmly to her writing desk and found a sharpened pen.
Dearest Robbie
I am so pleased you have reached Berwick and you are safe. Promise me you will stay safe, Robbie. Promise me.
The court is quiet at present. We seem to be collectively holding our breath, waiting for news from your campaign. The King and the rest of our friends take lessons as usual. As your father isn’t here to see, your brother Guildford chooses not to join us very often, and I think Master Ascham has washed his hands of it all. Without your father here, our tutor has little control over your brother, I fear.
The most astonishing news is that the Earl of Southampton died suddenly, so now Cecil is in charge of the Privy Council until the return of Somerset and your father. Cat tells me that although Ralph Sadler regrets the loss of his friend Tom Wriothesley, he had changed so much since they were clerks together that Ralph isn’t as distraught as his wife expected. And I have to tell you, Robbie, the meetings of the Council are so much easier now he is gone. Whispers have been heard of poison, but every sudden death has those things said about them. The doctors say his heart stopped beating in his sleep. I shall not mourn.
Ralph is bringing this straight to you, Robbie, so your father won’t perhaps see it first. Come home to me soon, Robbie. Edward is speaking with the Council about arranging a marriage for me, perhaps with Sweden and I want you here with me, to give me courage. Courage either to bear marriage to a man I don’t know, or courage to refuse. You make me brave, Robbie. I cannot be brave without you beside me. Please come home soon. May God bless and keep you.
The Last Howard Girl (Tudor Chronicles Book 3) Page 2