Defiant Desire
Page 40
The coach came to an abrupt stop just then, and they were motioned out by the same guard. The night was piercingly cold and Julian shivered as he indicated for them to follow a muffled man who stood just beyond the rim of light cast by the torch.
Charles took Julian’s hand as they entered the side door of a large building, went up some stairs and along a passage to a door which stood partially open. Their guard stepped aside and pointed but spoke no word. They entered together to face their fate.
The room was spacious enough, but much of it was taken up with tables stacked high with papers and charts. Books were placed near at hand, their bindings shining golden in the light of many candles. Tapestries blocked out the cold night and braziers made the air warm. The woman behind the table threw down some papers and rose to meet them, her face very pale under the cloud of tossing hair that had escaped the confining band.
Julian and Charles went to their knees, speaking with one voice the words that were not yet even twelve hours a reality.
“Your Majesty!”
“Your Majesty the Queen!”
“Rise and face me.” Elizabeth spoke sharply, the manner of power already upon her.
They obeyed, and Julian saw that the girl of the meadow was not yet the Queen’s Majesty in appearance, for there were ink stains on the long fingers and still others on the crumpled golden velvet gown she wore. But the long eyes flashed with authority, and the firm mouth was set. She was only a few years older than Julian but she was the Majesty of England as Mary Tudor had never been.
“You were rebels against your anointed queen, the both of you. Charles Varland, what do you owe to Philip of Spain that he did protect you and this girl? Did you hope to gain from him if he tried to gain the throne for himself? A thing which, incidentally, the English would never have allowed. Come, man, answer. Remember that you face your queen!”
Charles said, “Madam, we were friends, and I assume we are still. My loyalty has been to England, always. I owe Philip nothing in that regard.”
Elizabeth watched him narrowly before turning to Julian. “And you, Lady Redenter? You served my sister in her fortune and returned to her when others deserted. Yet you allied yourself with this traitor and are thus one yourself. What do you say in your defense?”
Julian and Charles looked at each other, mystified. Then Julian said the safe thing. “Our loyalty is to England and to you, madam.”
“Are you quite certain? How can I believe that? What if you and others like you decide that they do not approve of my rule and decide to rise against me by virtue of their great names and influence? England has been torn to pieces long enough. I will have no more of it!” Her voice rose and swelled in the room, the Tudor wrath in full cry. “No more!”
“Madam . . .” Charles tried to speak, but the imperious voice rode him down and her shadow ran long on the-wall.
“The sovereign cannot tolerate rebellion. The very structure of government would be undermined. I am come into the royal estate by right of blood and heritage, owing nothing to the good offices of any but my people. The lawful succession in accordance with the law of the realm has devolved peacefully upon me. Peacefully and by right. Do you understand me, Varland? Madam?” Elizabeth bent over the table toward them, and it was all they could do not to back away, so strong was the force in her.
They sank to their knees again. It seemed the safest thing to do. Julian wondered wildly if she meant to have them executed for supporting her and speaking as frankly to her as they had done that day at Hatfield. There was no doubt that she had recognized them; she was too astute for it to be otherwise.
She was repeating, “Are the both of you struck dumb? Answer me!”
“We understand, madam.” Charles spoke for them in a low voice that was quite unlike the arrogant lord Julian knew.
“And agree?”
“Of a certainty. We will swear fealty to you, take an oath before God. What more is there?”
“What more?” Elizabeth looked down into their faces, her own inscrutable. “If you cannot take such an oath wholeheartedly, you have my leave to quit this kingdom. I remember your words to me, Charles Varland, and I think I know the low opinion you held of me when you besought me to take the throne by fire and sword. Lady Redenter, too, spoke quite firmly. You might have been sent to trap me. I took no chances. But I would never have taken chances with England. Had I encouraged rebellion by taking part, then others would have risen up against me. But I remembered you both and made it my business to know what was happening with the both of you.”
“What is your pleasure, madam?” Charles sought Julian’s hand in his, and she returned the pressure of it.
Her tone was stern, but the strange eyes belied it. “Get up, this is no Oriental court! What is your pleasure, sir and madam?”
Julian said, “To serve Queen Elizabeth in whatever capacity she will have us.”
The white hands flashed, but her face was very still. “I do not forget what has happened to you this while, that bloodshed and murder and fear have marked you. You have been torn as England has been torn for years. I have known, but what could I do? Now it is different. I am queen!” The exultant words rang in the room and hung there. “There is this land to heal, my people to succor. England, my England.”
Julian thought that few people would see the new queen so unveiled in this moment of her triumph. Chills ran up her spine, and tears burned in her eyes. It was left to Charles to speak, for she could not.
“Our England, Madam the Queen. Will you accept our fealty, given unreservedly to you?” His own voice shook with the power of his feeling.
“And in return?” the odd note of something hidden was in the words, and Julian’s head jerked up.
“To serve you who are England’s future.”
Julian’s head spun and exhaustion made her shiver. It seemed that Elizabeth played with them, drawing out words and feelings for her own delectation. Why had she bothered to explain her actions and motives? It was not a thing rulers did; they simply ordered you about. She had liked and pitied and feared Queen Mary, but Queen Elizabeth was quicksilver, both dangerous and enchanting. Charles had felt the allure, she knew, for his voice had been low and caressing in the respect it carried.
“This is one country now. There is no need for factions. I care for men’s hearts and do not seek to pry into their souls.” The quiet voice was wholly sincere now. “I believe you, Charles Varland and Julian Redenter. I shall accept all who come to me with England’s good in their hearts. Welcome to my service, my lord and lady. Will you invite your queen to the wedding?”
The manner of her address thrust understanding upon Charles and Julian. They tried to speak at once and could not. The vanity of the queen was well pleased as she gave them the haunting smile that had won her friends and loyalty even among her sister’s minions when they took her to the Tower of London by way of Traitor’s Gate.
“It was necessary that I assess you both. I know loyalty when I see it. Your estates shall be returned to you, and in the days to come, the favor that I bestow upon you must be earned.”
Julian gave a long, shaking sigh. “We are grateful, madam.”
“It is a long service that we all embark on, my friends.” She put the serious manner aside and let the delight shine forth again. “I would ask one thing of you.”
“Anything.” They found it impossible to resist the smile that curved her mouth, though Julian found it hauntingly remindful of Mary Tudor in her moments of kindness. Did her sister remember also in this her time of glory? No one would ever really know what Elizabeth thought unless she willed it.
“In time to come send your sons to my court even as you both grace it. England has need of all who love her.”
Charles turned to Julian, and in the clear light of his eyes she saw the pattern of their love’s future. They were open to each other as they had never been before, and the present held no shadows. They had overcome and lived to see this day.
Because she was newly come to the throne of her fathers after mighty trials and vicissitudes, and her dignity was never in question, Queen Elizabeth lifted the costly decanter beside her and poured out the rich wine with her own hands into golden goblets.
“I am well answered. Take and drink in honor of this moment.”
She lifted her own goblet in the toast that was always closest to her heart. “To England!”
Julian and Charles held theirs toward her and said with one voice that was somehow all voices, “To Elizabeth of England!”
Their eyes met and once again they plighted their troth, this time in the dawn of a new age.