The Queen's Secret

by Victoria Lamb

  ‘Have the physician give me his report directly,’ she said, dismissing Helena with an irritable nod, though she knew she ought not to take it out on the Swedish girl. She, at least, was a respectable widow, and sworn to chastity at her queen’s side once again, for all her beauty and passion.

  As soon as Helena had withdrawn, Robert was there at her side, bowing so low he might as well have been on his knees, his hand clutching at her own.

  She did not attempt to pull away, but her hostile look and unfriendly silence sent out a message only a fool could fail to understand. Only a fool, or a man so blindly pursuing his own ambition that he could no longer read the signs.

  Robert drew her hand to his lips and kissed it warmly, lingering over her long jewelled fingers. She fought not to remember him inside her, moving urgently with the sharp pleasure of their coupling, but her cheeks flared with the memory.

  ‘Lord Leicester?’

  ‘I am sorry Lucy Morgan angered you.’ His voice was ragged. ‘But do these poor entertainments please you, Your Majesty? And the song the Moorish girl sang for you tonight … I know you are a woman of deep feeling. Did my words reach your heart?’

  All of a sudden, her body weakened and she became inexplicably wretched. Tears filled her eyes and she stared at Robert longingly, his broad shoulders, his still handsome face, roughened from riding out in the summer heat, and his mouth hard, not easily given to compromise. Why could her sweet Robin not become her husband, the bridegroom she had always dreamed of?

  Because she was the Queen, and it was too late to say yes to him now. She could never share her throne. Nor could she allow herself to become a poor womanly fool like her sister Mary, forever bleeding, and watching herself for the signs of a child, and suffering when they failed to come.

  ‘As always, you have my admiration for your efforts, Lord Robert,’ she managed out loud. Then she dropped her voice: ‘I am sorry I had to forbid you my chamber but I was not well.’

  ‘I only wished to bring you comfort.’

  ‘I know it.’ She struggled to find the words. ‘But even your company could not have done me any good. This sickness, this thing that dogs me, is between me and God alone.’

  There were lines etched in his forehead, beside his eyes, his oddly sombre mouth. ‘Your Majesty,’ he began haltingly, ‘may I beg you …’

  She encouraged him to go on, smiling, though her heart sank. She knew what was ahead.

  ‘Make our good news public,’ he whispered, raising her hand once more to his lips. This time his kiss was dry, and his lips trembled against her white skin. ‘Allow me to announce our betrothal to the court and set a date with the Privy Council for our marriage.’

  ‘I cannot.’

  ‘Your Majesty, I had your promise on this.’

  ‘You must not ask me again.’ She pulled her hand away, and her voice grew hard, strengthened by anger. Robert was not a man of weak intellect. He must be made to understand why he could not hope for more. That what they had enjoyed in secret was all that could ever happen between them. ‘I gave you no such promise, my lord. There is nothing to announce.’

  Robert rose and stared down into her face.

  She avoided that accusing gaze. Oh, let him stare, let him brood and consider rebellion. He might be one of the most powerful men in England but he was still her subject; he had no power beyond what she had already given him. Yes, she had made a promise, of sorts. But what a woman might whisper to a man in passion was no binding oath but merely the words of love. A foolish, undisciplined love at that.

  Robert knew all this as well as she did. To pretend otherwise was simply political coercion. And she would not be coerced.

  He drew breath, and she heard the anger in his voice. ‘Then do I have permission to leave your presence, Your Majesty? There are a few pressing matters to which I must attend. I will return before the battle has finished.’

  Robert wanted to go to her, that much was written clear in his face; to run to Lettice’s bedside and see how the adulterous she-wolf was. The impulse to scream ‘No!’ warred in her chest with a violent desire never to see him or his rutting bitch again. Though to allow them both to quit the court could be dangerous. It should not be forgotten that an alliance between her cousin and Leicester, however adulterous, might in time constitute a threat to her throne.

  ‘You may leave us,’ Elizabeth coldly agreed, returning her gaze to the spectacular battle on the lake, not even waiting to see her lover go. Should he, or the Countess of Essex, be suspected of making the slightest move against her person, by letter or by deed, she would issue warrants for their joint arrest, trial and execution. However much agony one of those deaths, at least, must cause her.

  Forty-five

  ‘DOWN! STAY DOWN!’

  A booted foot was shoved hard into Goodluck’s back. He exhaled with the sharp pain, and collapsed on to his knees in the wet mud. At least his blindfold had been removed. He kept his head low, in response to another harshly barked command in broken English, but glanced swiftly about as soon as the man behind him had moved out of kicking range. They were still in the woods, but further in now, somewhere to the north-east of the castle by his somewhat hazy calculations, and had halted their march beside a pool fed by a narrow stream. They had been walking maybe an hour, but could not have gone far from the castle walls, for it had been a slow progress even without the bear. The shambling creature had been led away on a rope by one of the other men before they started out, after a brief, muttered discussion between him and the bear-tamer.

  Had the discovery of Goodluck’s presence in the woods ruined the timing of their attack? He fervently hoped so.

  While he still could, he would attempt to delay their planned assassination of Queen Elizabeth. He had already stumbled over every tree root or jutting rock along the way, loudly and apologetically blaming his blindfold.

  Goodluck straightened his aching back, drawing some strength from the fact that he was still alive. His wrists were bound behind his back, but the Italians had grown tired of his repeated falls and had now removed his blindfold, for which he was grateful, even if it suggested they planned to kill him soon.

  With a start, he recognized the cloaked man, torch in hand, who had been waiting for them near the stream and now came forward from his hiding place behind the trees.

  Massetti handed his flaming torch to one of the men and threw back his hood. His handsome face was strained, yet he smiled politely enough at his co-conspirators.

  The young Italian held out his hands to the leader of the troupe with an eloquent greeting in his own language, adding swiftly, ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner. It’s been very difficult to get away, Walsingham’s spies watch me so closely.’ His smile faltered as he looked down at Goodluck’s kneeling, bound figure. ‘What is this?’

  ‘We caught this one spying on us. He pretends to be one of Leicester’s men, with this badge and the blue livery he wears. But it’s more likely he’s an agent of the crown. He and his friends have been camped up at the castle, watching who comes and goes. They have no subtlety, these English spies. They move about as noisily as children and think nobody notices them.’

  ‘Is it safe to speak in front of him?’

  ‘If we keep to Italian, yes. We were discussing his death earlier and he showed no sign of understanding. Do you know him?’

  Massetti frowned. His face was troubled as he signalled the man with the torch to raise it higher. With obvious hesitancy, he stepped into the flickering circle of light to take a closer look at Goodluck’s face.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said at last. ‘Perhaps I’ve seen him about the castle. I can’t be sure. All Leicester’s men look alike to me.’

  ‘Well, no matter.’ The leader of the troupe gave an eloquent shrug that left Goodluck in no doubt about his impending death. ‘We’ll soon find out who he is and what he knows, if anything. Then we’ll kill him and hide his body here in the woods. By the time they stumble across him
, the job will be done.’

  Massetti shivered, and carefully averted his gaze from Goodluck’s face. He looked instead at the bear-tamer, who had been standing silently all this time, arms folded across his chest. ‘I got your note, but must protest against your summons here tonight. My having to slip away from the court may have roused suspicions. And why did you not reply to my last message?’

  ‘I did not reply, my esteemed Massetti, because there could be no reply to your message except one.’ The bear-tamer smiled unpleasantly. ‘But I see you understand me.’

  Massetti blenched and took a hasty step back. His hand went nervously to his throat, loosening the courtly ruff that must have suddenly seemed too tight. ‘I have done what you asked of me. Thanks to my efforts, the Association of the Bear will soon triumph and this heretic England will return to the true faith.’

  Goodluck stifled his instinctive grimace before it could be seen. The Association of the Bear! He had been hunting an individual by that name, and all the time the ‘Bear’ was a group, a determined collective that sought to remove Elizabeth from the throne.

  ‘I have helped with your venture,’ Massetti continued, glancing about the circle of faces as though seeking a friendly one. ‘I paved the way for you to enter Kenilworth unchallenged, and had to face some very uncomfortable questions about my loyalty from my old master, Walsingham. He guards his virgin queen with great zeal.’

  The bear-tamer spat into the stream. ‘That Protestant whore!’

  ‘Just so, just so. But you must see that as soon as …’ Again, the young man glanced nervously at Goodluck’s face, and away. ‘As soon as Elizabeth is dead, suspicion must fall on me. They already know some plot exists, that was clear from Walsingham’s questions. Your plan is, of course, quite miraculous, a work of true genius. And yet there is a flaw.’

  ‘There is no flaw.’

  ‘Not in the execution, perhaps. But afterwards, when the deed is done, it will be hard for us all to get away from Kenilworth.’ Massetti gave his co-conspirators a weak smile. ‘If I stay, it will be impossible for me to escape the suspicion that must fall on all foreigners at court. I will be examined again by Walsingham, followed everywhere by his servants. I may even be tortured on his intolerable rack.’

  ‘I see what you mean.’ The bear-tamer nodded, as though considering the matter seriously. ‘And you feel, my good lord Massetti, that you may be unable to withstand such tortures? That the rigours of an English interrogation may put the rest of us in jeopardy?’

  ‘Oh, I am not such a fool as to betray my fellow countrymen. But I fear it may be difficult not to answer any of their questions. These men know their business.’

  ‘As I do mine.’

  ‘Agreed, my friend. That is why I ask, knowing how things stand with your plan, that you leave off your entry into the castle until tomorrow night. Allow me to make some excuse about my wife’s health back in Italy, so that I may leave court in the morning and my involvement in this plot may not so easily be proved.’ Massetti gazed around at the rest of the troupe, a falsely hearty smile on his sallow face, though his fear was palpable. ‘I shall return to London at once and thence to our own country, where all those who have supported this action from the start will await your triumphant return as soldiers of the true faith.’

  ‘Hmm. You have already expressed a concern for your wife’s health, is that not so?’

  Massetti frowned. ‘Have I?’

  ‘When my men paid you a visit, you were told that your wife and child might suffer if you did not keep your side of the bargain.’

  ‘But I have k-kept my word to the Association of the Bear,’ Massetti stammered. His voice rose. ‘I provided false letters of passage for you through Dover Port and into this castle. I told lies to Walsingham to prevent suspicion from falling on you. And I have set everything up for the smooth running of this evening’s business. The death of the steward’s assistant made things difficult for me, yet I said nothing and hid the evidence for you. I have been a good friend to you and your patron in this business.’

  Patron?

  So there might yet be a nobleman at Elizabeth’s court pulling the strings behind this Association of the Bear, just as Walsingham suspected. But who?

  Goodluck listened to their exchange with what he hoped was a dumb expression; they must not know he could understand every word. Though much was still unclear to him. The central stairs to the Queen’s apartments would be guarded too heavily for such a small group to prevail, even if they charged it en masse. Goodluck wondered which of the castle guards had been prevailed upon to take a bribe from the Italians, and how such a thing could have been achieved among hand-picked men. Were covert Catholics even more deeply embedded in England than Walsingham feared?

  ‘Yes, all that is true.’ The bear-tamer held out his right hand to Massetti, who shook it uncertainly. ‘You have mostly done what we asked of you, Massetti, and because of that you will not suffer unduly. Nor will your family be touched. Have no fear on that score, whatever threats you may have heard from us before. But we must enter the castle tonight, the plan is already in motion.’

  ‘Not … Not suffer? I do not understand.’

  ‘I am truly sorry, my friend. If it is any consolation, Catholics everywhere will thank you for your loyal service in this matter. Perhaps even the Holy Father himself will spare a moment to pray for your soul. But you must realize that we cannot leave you behind to provide answers under torture that might embarrass our masters. That was never their intention. We are sent here merely to ensure that England returns to the Catholic faith it held under Queen Mary – a wish, indeed, that both you and your family have always shared.’ As Massetti backed away, a look of horror dawning on his face, the bear-tamer nodded to the slant-eyed woman behind him. ‘Do it.’

  Realizing too late the fate that lay in store for him, Massetti turned and fled.

  He got fewer than a hundred paces before the woman, darting over the woodland floor like a shadow across the face of the sun, caught up with him and leapt on his back.

  With skilful speed, she yanked his head back by his short dark hair and dragged a shining blade across his exposed throat, so the blood spurted scarlet over the white ruff.

  Massetti tried to shriek, but by then he could make only a horrible bubbling sound; the woman relinquished her hold, dropping back lightly to the ground. Massetti staggered on a few feet, trying to contain the blood jetting from his throat. Then he fell, face down, into the dirt.

  By the light of a guttering torch, Goodluck watched the dying man’s last feeble jerks, then looked up as a shadow fell over him.

  It was the slant-eyed woman, staring down at him, the bloodstained knife held loose by her side. He had thought her attractive before. Close up though, there was something cold and inhuman about her dark, almond-shaped eyes, the straight line of her mouth.

  ‘Madam?’

  Goodluck met her steady gaze with a nod of acknowledgement for her skill.

  A little politeness might smooth the way ahead. Knowing it was his turn to be dispatched, the best he could hope for was as swift a death as the one Massetti had so thanklessly received.

  ‘Wait,’ the bear-tamer said, staying her hand. ‘There isn’t time. This one must be questioned before he is killed. Let us go back to the castle and leave him to Alfonso.’ He turned away, and there was a note in his voice which chilled Goodluck’s blood. ‘Alfonso, you know what to do.’

  Forty-six

  ‘LUCY MORGAN?’

  Wearily, Lucy sat up. She wiped her damp eyes on her gold-embroidered sleeve, and wondered when they would come to strip the fine garment from her back.

  It was young Will Shakespeare, his pale, freckled face filled with consternation.

  ‘Hello, Will,’ she whispered, managing a crooked smile. ‘Come to see the battle on the lake?’

  ‘You’re hurt,’ the boy said, ignoring her question. He held out a small, grubby handkerchief.

  She glanced down
at her gown, following his gaze, and drew a sharp breath. She had forgotten she was bleeding and had wiped her damp face with her beautiful sleeve – which was now streaked with brownish-red blood. Oh, she would catch a second whipping for sure now, on top of all her other woes.

  But she was not safe here. The crowd was but a few feet away from where she had sat down in the shadows, hoping not to be seen, and for all she knew there were hostile eyes watching her at this very moment.

  Trying not to let her despair show, she marshalled her strength and got to her feet. Will supported her, and she looked down into his sweet face.

  ‘Thank you. You’re an angel.’

  ‘No, mistress,’ he replied, without even stopping to think, ‘you are an angel, as strong and proud as the cherubim who guard the entrance to Eden.’

  She could not help but laugh at his serious tone, the boy was in such earnest. ‘If I am an angel, Will, I must be a fallen one. Fallen from grace with Her Majesty.’

  Gingerly, she put a hand to her temple and felt a weeping gash, her fingertips reddened with fresh blood as she drew them away. She must have reopened the wound from her fall.

  ‘The Queen struck me for disobedience, Will,’ she whispered, staring down at her fingers. ‘I deserved that punishment. I expect I shall be whipped too and turned away from the court. Perhaps even imprisoned. But I could not speak the truth without condemning someone else. Do you understand?’

  Will’s face was solemn. ‘I saw what happened, mistress. But I could not hear what the Queen said.’

  She gave a little sob. ‘It was not my fault. I did not ask to carry those messages, nor to help her ladyship …’ She pulled herself up short, seeing his frown. ‘No matter. What’s done is done. All I can do now is bear whatever punishment I am given as best I can.’

  The boy nodded. Over their heads a bright firework popped with an almighty crack. Lucy shrank nervously from the sound, hands clamped over her ears.