When the Heavens Fall

by Gilbert, Morris

  “What is there to cry for?”

  “I never had anything good.” She suddenly reached up and put her arms around him. “You are good. You must see that I care for you, Brandon.”

  “Well, Lupa, I’m not good for you. I’m lost, wandering.”

  “Sounds like a gypsy to me. We’re both lost, so we should make the best of it.” She pressed herself against him and whispered, “We have each other, Brandon. We can have that much at least. Come on back to the room. I need you to love me.”

  “That’s not love, Lupa.”

  “It’s as close as we can get.”

  She pulled at him, and Brandon reluctantly followed. As soon as they were in their room, she closed and locked the door. She came to him and said, “We’ll have each other. That’s better than nothing.”

  And Brandon surrendered. “I’ll probably regret this and so will you,” he whispered, then accepted her kiss

  “No regrets,” she said pulling him down onto the bed. “What’s to regret in love?”

  Three days later, Brandon and Lupa walked along the cliffs. Brandon smiled at her and appeared happy for the first time since he had met her. In truth, she had comforted him, at least in a physical way

  The famous white cliffs of Dover impressed them, and Brandon said, “This is a beautiful sight. As beautiful as anything in England. I think we should—”

  Suddenly he heard his name being called. He whirled quickly, and his eyes widened. He saw his father and mother hurrying along the pathway along the top of the cliff, and could not, for a moment, think of what to say

  “Who is that?” Lupa said, looking from him to the figures still twenty paces off

  “My—my parents,” he whispered

  Brandon had no chance to say anything else. His mother rushed ahead of his father. She came to him, and he had to catch her in his arms to keep her from falling. She was weeping. She pulled his head down and kissed his cheek

  “Mother, what are you doing here?”

  Stuart answered, “Brandon, we heard that you were here, and we came to see that you were all right.”

  Brandon was filled with shame, for he knew that he had never been the son they deserved, less so now than ever

  He glanced toward Lupa, standing behind him, and saw the antagonism in her face, then back to his parents. “When did you arrive?” It sounded inane, and he barely heard their reply

  “Do you have a room yet?”

  “Yes. We have a room at the inn.”

  “Go back there then. We’ll meet you for dinner tonight.”

  “All right. We’re at the Anchor and Albatross Inn. It’s so good to see you, Son,” Heather said. Her eyes drifted to Lupa, but then she turned and she went back along the cliffs with Stuart

  Brandon turned to Lupa. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to ignore you,” he said. “I was so shocked to see them…But you’ll meet them tonight.”

  “You won’t want me there.”

  “Yes, I do,” he said

  “Are you certain?”

  “I am. Please, come with me.”

  They walked along the path again. Brandon looked out over the Channel, and for one brief moment he had an insane desire simply to throw himself off the cliff and be done with his problems. But that would only put one more arrow in his parents’ hearts

  Lupa had dressed with care, but she was deeply afraid of Brandon’s parents. She had become part of him physically, but she knew she had never touched his spirit. She had seen the quality of the couple and knew that she was on the verge of losing this man who had come into her life and made her feel as no other man ever had

  “You look fine,” Brandon said. “Let’s hurry.”

  “Are you sure you want me to go?”

  “Of course. Come along now.”

  The two of them went to the inn and found Stuart and Heather waiting for them. They sat down and ordered a meal, and Stuart began to tell Brandon about the situation in London, obviously eager to fill the uncomfortable silence among them

  “You’ve heard of Elizabeth’s trouble?”

  “I heard that she was put in the Tower. But she’s done nothing, has she, Father?”

  “Absolutely not. Mary’s listening to some of Elizabeth’s enemies. Have you heard about Lady Jane Grey? She was involved in Wyatt’s Rebellion, and she’s been executed, along with her husband. I think she was innocent. It appears that Mary is adopting her father’s ways—eager to believe lies.”

  “I hear that Mary’s going to marry Philip of Spain. Is that true?” Brandon asked

  “She’s made it very clear. It’s not a popular decision, and it’s going to mean a great deal of heartache and danger for some of us.”

  “You think she will be hard on people who aren’t Catholic?”

  “I think she will.”

  Such talk went on throughout the meal

  Then the two men left the women alone, going outside to look at the horses that Stuart and Heather had brought. As soon as they were gone, Heather tried to show at least some politeness to Lupa, who had said absolutely nothing. She asked a simple question about Lupa’s parents, about her history, and Lupa flared out at her. “You think I’m not good enough for your son, don’t you?”

  “Why, I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “Yes, you have,” Lupa said flatly

  Heather asked simply, “Do you love him, Lupa?”

  “Yes, but I know you’d never have me as a daughter.”

  “You don’t know that because I don’t know it.”

  “I’m a gypsy. I know people hate gypsies.”

  “It’s not what you are. It’s what you become. I want Brandon to find God, and I want the woman he marries to be a woman of God. That’s all I want for him.”

  “I can never be that.” Lupa turned away

  Brandon came back with Stuart, but he did not sit down. Stuart shifted from one foot to the other, obviously agitated. He was flushed at the neck. What had they been discussing

  Brandon looked at his mother and said, “I appreciate the visit. But now I want you to give up on me. You, too, Father.”

  Stuart said at once, “We won’t give up on you until God does.”

  “He already has. Come, Lupa.”

  11

  By the first of June, 1554, Queen Mary had decided to have Elizabeth released from the Tower. This decision did not please Simon Renard, who said bluntly, “I think, Your Majesty, it is a grave error permitting Elizabeth to leave the Tower.”

  Mary stared at Simon Renard. She trusted him, but since he was not an Englishman, she doubted his wisdom in some matters, especially those concerning her family—mainly Elizabeth. “I cannot leave my sister in the Tower, Renard. She is innocent. I am convinced of it.”

  “Some of the traitors involved in Wyatt’s Rebellion accused her.”

  “Yes, they accused her under torture. People will confess anything under torture. Besides, Wyatt himself never accused her. At his execution he was almost deformed by the tortures he had undergone, but he steadfastly refused to admit that Elizabeth had ever contacted him. I cannot ignore such testimony.”

  Renard stared at the queen, but said, “I think it’s a mistake, but you are the queen. She’s here to see you. I saw her in the outer room.”

  “Have her brought in, Renard, and you may leave us alone.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Mary went to the window and stared outside. Wyatt’s Rebellion had shaken her. She had been only a hair’s breath away from being deposed. She had said Mass four times a day since that close escape from death. She was convinced that God had saved her. A beautiful summer had come to England after a hard winter. She watched a group of sparrows on the ground beneath the window and saw a tremendous fight begin, the small birds rolling in the dust and pecking as if to kill

  “Even birds don’t agree! How could human beings possibly live in peace?” Mary whispered

  Hearing steps at the door, she came to stand in the middle of t
he room as Elizabeth entered. She saw that Elizabeth looked pale, her sojourn in the Tower had had its effect on her. How could it be otherwise, Mary thought, when each day she might have been taken out to share her mother’s fate?

  “I greatly regret,” Mary said, “it was necessary to send you to the Tower.”

  “I appreciate Your Majesty’s regret. But I say again what I have said all this time. I am innocent of any plot of any kind, and I know that your love would never allow harm to come to me.”

  “It’s your future that I’m thinking of, Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, I know that, Your Majesty,” Elizabeth said quickly, “I would like to leave here and go to the country, to my house there, to Woodstock. It’s always been good for me.”

  “You’re no longer a child. I have a proposition for you.”

  “A proposition?”

  “Yes, indeed. It’s time for you to think about taking a husband.” Mary saw Elizabeth turn pale. “I will be married soon, and it is time for you to marry. Why have you turned pale? Emanuel Philibert, the duke of Savoy, would be a worthy match.”

  “I—I have no desire to marry, Your Majesty.”

  “Nonsense! You must marry. It’s what every woman must do.”

  “Not every woman, if you please. I would prefer to remain unmarried.”

  “Elizabeth, you speak of matters of which you have no knowledge.” Mary frowned. “Well, I cannot force you, but I think you’re making a serious mistake. You may go to Woodstock.”

  “Thank you for your gracious kindness, Your Majesty.”

  Elizabeth curtsied deeply

  As soon as she was gone, Mary paced back and forth. Talk of marriage brought to mind her own upcoming nuptials. Renard entered but did not speak. Finally Mary turned to him. “Renard, I am excited. I’m going to marry. I will have a husband who will love me and care for me, and it’s true I’m almost too old for childbearing, but it’s not impossible. I want children. I want to become a mother. I tell you, Renard, my happiness at just the thought of my coming marriage to Philip brings great joy to my heart.”

  “I am happy for you, Your Majesty,” he said, then added cautiously, “We must keep a watch on Elizabeth.”

  “Of course. Send for Sir Henry Bedingfield. He’s been a loyal supporter of mine. Charge him with watching Elizabeth closely. He’s faithful. I think he will serve admirably well.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.”

  Mary returned to the window and peered out. She did not speak for some time, but finally said in a low tone, “I am at a great disadvantage, Renard.”

  “And how is that, Your Majesty?”

  “I know nothing of—of marriage.”

  “But you have been engaged to be married many times.”

  “But I have no knowledge of—” Mary lowered her head and she flushed. “I have no knowledge of what it’s like—the physical side of marriage.”

  Renard seemed somewhat taken aback, and Mary was immediately sorry she had mentioned it. “That will come, Your Majesty. I am sure you will be happy.”

  “Very well. I will find someone to counsel me, some faithful woman who has been married.”

  “That would be well. I think you should see to it.”

  Philip, son of Emperor Charles V, stood looking out over the prow of his ship. Several of the young courtiers who had accompanied him from Spain were gathered around him

  “There it is,” he said. “England.”

  “Yes, land of your bride.” The speaker was Pedro Devine, a handsome young man of twenty-five. He winked at the other young men and said, “I am certain she is young and beautiful.”

  Philip frowned at Devine. “Do not mock me, sir. By all accounts she is not beautiful. And she is no longer young.”

  “But she is the queen, sire.” Devine answered. “You will be king not only of Spain but also of England. It is what your father most desires, and you are wise to do as he bid.”

  Philip shook his head. He was wearing brilliant clothing, a gorgeous doublet and a coat of gray satin with white velvet lining. Gold and silver bugles adorned the gown, and gold thread was applied so thickly that the cloth beneath was all but hidden. Along with these Philip wore jewels at his wrist and around his neck and the gold chains that he liked to wear around his shoulders and around his hat. Indeed, he was magnificently adorned, but he had an air of apprehension

  “I do not know how this will go.”

  “What do you mean, sire?”

  “We both know that the English will not welcome a foreign king.”

  “It is not their decision,” Devine said flatly. “They will accept whoever the queen designs, and she has chosen you, my prince.”

  Devine continued to comfort the prince and encourage him

  As soon as the ship docked, the visitors got into two royal carriages that had been sent for them and set out for the meeting of Philip and his bride to be

  However, they stayed in Southampton for three days and slept late each morning. During those days they met with Mary’s council and other lords. Philip made a formal speech to all of them, assuring them that he had come to England not to enrich himself but because he had been called by the divine powers to be Mary’s husband. He promised in many ways that he would be a good and loving prince

  Philip was well aware that his every word and gesture were being weighed and that they would be reported not only to the queen but also to the rest of the court. He gave every appearance of being a carefree young man looking forward to his wedding day. But behind that façade he was troubled. Things were not going well in the war that Spain was carrying on with the French, and word had come from his father that it was absolutely necessary for the marriage to take place. Finally Philip and his companions arrived at Winchester in the midst of a rain so hard that the horses were splashed with mud up to their eyes. It was dusk when he arrived, and there were few to meet him. He was led to his quarters in the castle, and after a change of clothes he was taken to meet his bride to be

  When Philip entered the room, his eyes went at once to the woman who was standing in the center. She was not what he had expected. There had been some hints that Mary was attractive, but she was not. She was wearing a black velvet gown, a petticoat of frosted silver, and a headdress of black velvet lined with gold. She was short, and her youthful shapeliness had become a thick-set middle-aged appearance. Her complexion was sallow, and he could see that she was nervously twisting her lips

  Quickly he went forward, took her hand, and kissed it. “Your Majesty, at last we meet. I cannot tell you of the happiness in my heart.” Philip could not speak English, so he spoke in French, which he knew Mary understood. He saw her eyes light up and knew that this woman was hungry for love. She was eleven years older than he, but he had not come to find a woman who would please him in the bedroom. He could see that pleasing her would be easy

  Philip kissed Mary on the mouth. She was taken aback. Philip laughed. “I understand it is the custom in your country for men to kiss women. It is a most happy custom.”

  “I must learn some Spanish so that we need not always confer in French,” she said. “It is such a beautiful language. Come. You must sit down and have refreshments. Bring your companions with you. I want to hear about your trip.”

  The rest of the evening passed slowly for Prince Philip. He was a man capable of playing a role, and he played his role well. He saw that Mary had a desire for love, and he could provide that—or at least the semblance of it

  After the meal and some entertainment, when they were then left alone for the first time, Philip said, “I am delighted with you, Your Majesty. I hope you find me acceptable.”

  “Oh, yes, Philip. Of course I do.” She looked almost attractive as her eyes lit up again. “Our dream will come true.”

  “Our dream, Your Majesty?”

  “That England will be returned to the true faith, the Catholic faith. Between us we will do that.”

  “That is my desire and also the desire of my fathe
r. It will not be easy,” he warned

  “It must be done.”

  “It may even take some force.”

  “I once wished for a peaceful transition, but I believe now that even if we must resort to force, God will be with us.”

  Philip saw that Mary was thinking more of weddings and unions than the future of her country’s faithful. He smiled and said, “We will talk of this a great deal, but later. I am so happy to be here. With you.”

  “I’m glad you’ve come, Philip. Our marriage will be a happy one.”

  “I know that is true. Now, I bid you good night.”

  Brandon and Lupa were at an inn for the evening meal when a man approached their table and said, “I congratulate you on your companion, sir.”

  Brandon casually observed that the speaker was a tall, thin man with a narrow face and a pair of eyes somewhat too close together. He was dressed in a lordly fashion with jewels sparkling at his fingers and around his neck. His clothes were of the finest, and Brandon, who had learned to read men rather well, saw that he was a fop. “You are impertinent.”

  “My name is Sir Leo Summerville.” Summerville waited for recognition to come to Brandon, but it did not. His face reddened and he said, “As I say, you have an attractive companion.”

  “And I say you may leave, sir.” Brandon did not even sit up straight. He was indolently leaning back, holding a goblet of wine in one hand. He glanced over at Lupa and saw that her face was tense. “I’m sorry, my dear, that you have to put up with such a lout. Perhaps I will speak to the owner about keeping the riffraff out of this place”

  Summerville sneered at him. “I know you. Don’t think you’re getting away with anything.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Yes. I remember you as a boy. You are a son of Sir Stuart Winslow and nephew of the preacher Quentin Winslow.”

  “I prefer to not discuss my family.”

  Summerville was infuriated. He was clearly used to getting his own way and having people bow before him. He sneered and placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Your uncle is one of these new religion people.”