Ill Met by Moonlight

by Mercedes Lackey

  Denoriel soothed her by pointing out that Edward, the most important to the king, had not been invited either. Whereupon Elizabeth rather scornfully said that Edward did not ride well enough to go on a progress, and Denoriel riposted by saying that the king could not know how well she rode either, since most of her riding had been done in his company and was kept secret.

  To his relief, Elizabeth did not say she would expose their clandestine meetings in order to prove how well she rode. That she valued his company more than the chance to join the court on progress made him ridiculously happy. Becoming aware of the unsuitable rush of satisfaction, Denoriel reminded himself that she was only a child, a little girl of ten. But sometimes the way she looked at him sidelong under her thick golden lashes …

  However, the conversation about her dissatisfaction at not being invited to court was repeated so often through the end of the summer and the autumn, that when the invitation finally came in December Denoriel was almost glad to see her leave Hertford.

  His feeling did not last long. He was shaken by the reports from Blanche Parry, transmitted by Ladbroke, of how strongly Elizabeth had responded to the warmth with which Catherine greeted her and Edward.

  Denoriel, carefully not thinking about why, promptly wrote to Kat Champernowne and asked when he could hope to be placed on a visitor’s list. All he received in return was a harried note saying that she had not yet even discovered to whom she needed to apply for such permission. And then, apologetically, that Elizabeth was so busy and so thrilled by the queen’s reorganization of the “nursery” …

  “Nursery?” Denoriel said, looking up at Ladbroke.

  The groom laughed. “Lady Elizabeth wasn’t best pleased by the word either and neither was His Highness, but the queen smoothed their feathers by explaining it was just a word to excuse keeping the children separate. The Lady Mary is not with them. She has her own apartment in the palace itself. It made it easier to guard the young ones—well, Her Majesty didn’t say who from, but she meant from toadies and favor seekers—and to provide them with freedom, like their own space to play … and not ruin the formal gardens, which Her Majesty didn’t say neither.”

  Denoriel smiled and shrugged. “The queen does seem to know how to deal with children. I suppose when they are settled—”

  “It’ll be a while, m’lord. The queen, she set up a school and she’s invited a passel of noble lads and one little lady—Lady Jane Grey, which loves her books as much as His Highness and Lady Elizabeth. And you know Lady Elizabeth. She ain’t to be bested by anyone, ‘specially not in learning. She’ll have her nose in the books and not look to anything else until she’s the leader ‘mongst them all in learning.”

  Denoriel nodded and sighed. Ladbroke knew his lady, and so did Denoriel. And the queen apparently understood scholars as well as children. Denoriel heard she had named Anthony Cooke, John Cheke, and William Grindal to be the tutors in the nursery. He mentioned them to Norfolk’s son, Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, who scowled and said they were all damned proponents of the reformed religion, but Thomas Wyatt and Francis Bryan sang the scholars’ praises.

  Then Surrey admitted they were fine scholars but he felt they would lead the children astray into Protestantism. Denoriel thought he could keep Elizabeth on a middle path … if he could get to her. And of course Elizabeth needed to be well taught if she were to lead her country into the flowering depicted in the FarSeeing lens, but he could not completely put aside his disappointment in not being called on to share her joy.

  For Elizabeth it was all joy. For the first time in her life she had the thrill of competing against others—she had always been ahead of Edward despite his almost frightening precocity because of the difference in their ages. Now she showed up very well in competition against the young men the queen had invited to join the royal children’s lessons—and none of those young men ever forgot her. Nonetheless, in the midst of her excitement, she remembered her promise to Lord Denno to discover ways for them to meet.

  Elizabeth was aware that she did not truly miss Denno right now. There were too many new people to study, too many new protocols to fix in her mind, far more demanding lessons. But she was also aware that the excitement of novelty would not last forever. Soon enough life would settle into known patterns, and she would begin to be bored and long for her Denno.

  Already she had heard this and that she needed to talk over with him. Most things she could tell her dear Kat, and they would laugh or sigh together at the news and rumors; some things, however, would make Kat look horrified and shush her. Denno never did that. He would always warn her not to talk to anyone else, but then he would explain. As the thought crossed her mind, she smiled. She would send for him soon and show him the maze and the wonderful park.

  Hampton Court Palace was ideally suited for clandestine meetings—at least for children. The nursery was quite separate from the palace itself, really an enclosure including a group of buildings rather than a single large structure. To the east, against the wall that extended from the palace, were the royal apartments, luxurious suites of rooms for Edward and herself, smaller but adequate chambers for their upper servants. On the south, nearest the north wall of the palace, were the barracks for the guards and a gatehouse; on the north and west were a variety of buildings, guest houses, kitchens, and storage sheds. Small gardens fronted the royal apartments and the guest houses.

  Elizabeth had done no more than glance at those gardens. A medium-sized rabbit could not have concealed itself anywhere in them. She looked up at Kat and sighed.

  “There is not even room here to take three quick steps. Where can I go to stretch my legs?”

  Instead of replying that she would obtain permission for Elizabeth to walk in the palace gardens, Kat laughed and took her hand. She led her along an inviting graveled path, which passed behind the guesthouses and led northwest into a most entrancing area called the Wilderness. Elizabeth’s anxiety about where to meet Denno disappeared. The Wilderness was planted with flowering shrubs, evergreen bushes, and trees and crisscrossed with grassy paths. Only the central area, around a small pond, was open and planted with flowers.

  Most wonderful of all, in the northwest corner was a maze. Once in there, no one at more than arms’ length would be able to see, and it would be very easy to escape observation by melting from a path into the hedges. So far so good, but Elizabeth put on a disappointed face.

  “I cannot ride in here. It is a lovely place to walk but I hope I am not supposed to give up riding.”

  “Oh, no,” Kat Champernowne said. “If you will walk with me past the maze we will come to the Lion Gate and you will be able to see through them to the great park. There is room enough to ride to your heart’s content. And past the park is the forest itself, and when you are old enough to join in the king’s hunts, you will even be able to find fine sport there.”

  “Then I could not be happier,” Elizabeth sighed.

  She meant to send word to her Denno, but she was caught up in the Christmas celebrations. She played a modest but significant role in the singing and set pieces and drew her father’s attention. He spoke kindly to her and she replied, but meekly, low-voiced, curtseying to the ground. He asked about her lessons and she told him what she was translating in Latin, a piece by Cato, and that she had done most of the fables by Aesop in Greek. She saw that he was pleased, and yet his blue eyes, sunk so deeply in his fat cheeks, glinted cold, very cold.

  Still his favor did not shift. He called her to him several times and teased her gently about her scholarship. Then he spoke to her in French, laughing to the courtiers who surrounded them when she replied easily and fluently in that language. She should keep up her French, he told her—and all the others nearby—because he would soon have French territory. And then the new year came and passed, and in the first days of 1544 the king went on to Greenwich, while the queen stayed at Hampton Court with the children.

  Although she could not say why, this made Elizabeth uneasy. T
here was no sign she or Kat could detect nor was there any rumor about a disagreement between the king and queen. Also the king was much occupied with the preparations for the war against France and it was only reasonable that he not be disturbed by a noisy and exuberant pack of children. It was reasonable that he should go to Greenwich … but Elizabeth’s belly now and then knotted with anxiety, and she would feel a chill pass across her heart, as if someone had closed a cold, cold hand about it.

  Chapter 17

  Throughout the late spring and early summer of 1543, Rhoslyn found herself frustrated at every turn in trying to interfere with Elizabeth’s life. She could not herself attempt to watch Elizabeth nor could she send her creatures to watch. The child had retained her ability to see through illusion, and the maid could sense a watcher, which then the child could see and point out for the maid to drive away with her accursed cold iron crosses.

  Rhoslyn resented her inability to spy on Elizabeth all the more because she was trying to help the wretched child. If she could not arrange for her to be disgraced and thus placed outside Oberon’s rule, she was very much afraid that Vidal would demand the child’s death … and Pasgen would arrange it. Cold crept about her heart. She could not live without Pasgen, but she could not live with him if he murdered a child. It was a crisis with no solution, unless she found a way to get at the miserable girl.

  Fortunately, Aurelia had remained quite determined to take Elizabeth alive, and managed to divert Vidal into other enterprises. That helped, but it did not ease Roslyn’s exasperation. Elizabeth’s life, under observation of Prince Edward’s officers as well as her own governess, was blameless. Rhoslyn suspected that Elizabeth saw Denoriel, but he was an accepted visitor and was never alone with the child. Worse yet, Rhoslyn’s conduit to the king, Henry’s eldest daughter, Mary, had little to do with Elizabeth these days. Mary lived on her own estates and did not share households with the younger children.

  When the king married again in July of 1543, however, the possibilities for involving Elizabeth in misbehavior became better. Rhoslyn knew at once when Mary received an invitation to accompany the king and his new wife on a progress after they were married. Knowing Mary’s constant financial difficulties, Rhoslyn promptly presented herself as Mary’s old and dear friend Rosamund Scot, bearing a fat purse of gold coins “to help toward her beloved Lady Mary’s expenses in traveling.”

  It was no great surprise that Mistress Scot should be invited along to accompany Mary on the king’s progress, or that Rosamund, always thoughtful and considerate, should mention that it was a pity the king’s whole family could not be together. Mary thought that the addition of two young children on a honeymoon trip would be too much to ask of Queen Catherine and that the children’s lessons would be too much disturbed.

  Much though that was an irritation, it was a minor one, and Lady Rosamund was assiduous in continuing with her gentle hints of familial harmony. It wasn’t difficult; Mary longed for a family of any kind, having so long lived without more than a shadow of one. So before the progress was over, and once the king and queen settled into a residence, she told Lady Rosamund that she would speak to the queen about bringing all of Henry’s children to court.

  Always true to her word—and reminded subtly by Mistress Scot—Mary did so. Catherine was delighted with the idea, particularly as Hampton Court Palace where they were now settled was ideal for children.

  Henry adored the palace, built by Cardinal Woolsey, and actually given to him by the cardinal as an unsuccessful bribe to avert his own disgrace. It hadn’t worked, of course, but Henry could luxuriate in the comforts of an entirely modern palace (unlike some of the other residences he possessed, Hampton Court had been rebuilt from the ground up), and he could look about himself, allow himself a moment of sentimental nostalgia about the builder, secure in the mendacious knowledge that it had been a “gift” and not taken from the unhappy cleric. Then, if he was feeling particularly spiteful, he could gloat over the fact that he had won in the battle of wills between himself and the Catholic Church, and Woolsey, the pope’s man, had lost.

  The king was pleased with Catherine’s request that his younger children be added to the family party, had the apartments in the nursery refurbished, and in early December sent for Edward and Elizabeth to celebrate Christmas with the court.

  From a safe distance, where Elizabeth was not likely to comment aloud on her pointed ears or cat-pupilled eyes, Rhoslyn watched Elizabeth. Despite the child’s prettiness, Rhoslyn was not particularly drawn to her; there was a too-knowing, too-watchful expression on her thin, pale face, and too sharp a tongue when the other children—excepting only Edward—did not dance to her pleasure. However, Rhoslyn could not deny that Elizabeth was superlatively intelligent and inventive.

  Christmas Eve was no longer given over entirely to religious practices as it had been in Catherine of Aragon’s time as queen. There was a Christmas mass, of course, and a sermon, which carefully avoided both Catholic and Reformist extremes. From the back of the chapel among the high-born attendants of the royal party, Rhoslyn noted the still intensity with which Elizabeth listened to the sermon. After the music—hymns, but only the joyous and triumphant variety—and a masque of Christ’s birth with sweet but not particularly holy choruses, the entertainment was ended and Rhoslyn followed Mary to her apartment.

  “It all seems a little … a little … shallow,” Rhoslyn sighed. “I miss the depth and beauty of the eve of Christ’s birth as it was celebrated in your blessed mother’s time.”

  Mary looked around, but her other ladies were at a distance and seemed well occupied with their duties. Most, she was sure, loved her, but there were some she suspected were spies and would report anything that hinted of criticism on her part of her father’s distortion of the true faith.

  “I too,” she whispered, “but it is better not to speak of such things.”

  “Of course.” Rhoslyn took Mary’s hand and kissed it. “The children were very good, were they not?”

  Mary smiled. “Well, good enough not to call down a punishment on themselves, but little boys will be little boys and I am so happy to see Edward plump and rosy despite what I hear about him loving his books so well, that a little nudging and whispering during a sermon can be excused.”

  “Yes. That Edward have good health is the best news for us all. Elizabeth looks well, too, but she seemed almost fascinated by the sermon, especially the parts about sin. I do not suppose it possible that she could have any reason to be concerned with the redemption of sin … unless some lingering memory of her mother—”

  “She is only a child,” Mary interrupted sharply. “I do not believe she has any memory of that … that woman.”

  “She was almost three. Children of three remember.” Well, that hint was not taken well. Time to try a different direction. Rhoslyn sighed heavily and then said brightly, “It is a real delight to see how Edward loves her. Did you see how he ran to her after the sermon? He asked her what she thought of some passage as if she were the authority instead of the priest.”

  “I think it was only a word he did not understand,” Mary said, but a faint frown creased her brow.

  “They have both grown very fond of the queen.” Rhoslyn’s voice was bland, but she fingered the golden cross that hung from a handsome string of pearls. Mary did not seem to notice.

  “Yes,” Mary said, smiling again. “I, too, am fond of Queen Catherine. She is a delightful woman—kind, intelligent, and very warmhearted.”

  “That she is,” Rhoslyn agreed heartily, lifting the cross and jiggling it so the glittering gold caught Mary’s eye. “But you are of an age where affection has no power to lead you away from the truth. For those much younger, what the beloved espouses very often becomes belief.”

  Mary was silent, staring at the cross which Rhoslyn now allowed to lie quietly on her breast.

  “Elizabeth is particularly enamored of the queen, and they tell me she strains to be the foremost student of Cooke and
Cheke …” Rhoslyn said, meditatively. “Perhaps this is because they have the queen’s favor, but perhaps it is because what they say is pleasing to the child.” She shrugged. “This will not matter, of course—unless she bends the prince in the same direction.”

  “I see,” Mary breathed. “And the queen would not correct it, as it was she who appointed Cooke and Cheke, and she—”

  Mary stopped as Jane Dormer, her long-time and most trusted lady-in-waiting, approached and curtsied. Rhoslyn examined the woman’s face anxiously, hoping that Jane had not overheard their conversation, divined danger, and come to put a stop to it. What Jane heard was not important; she was utterly devoted to Mary and would never repeat a dangerous conversation. But if Jane had heard, others less trustworthy might also have heard.

  Rhoslyn knew it was important not to get Mary into trouble with her father. Unfortunately Henry knew quite well that silently, in the depths of her heart, his eldest daughter rejected his claim to be head of the English Church and bitterly repented her submission on rejecting the pope. Thus far, outward conformity kept Henry satisfied, but Rhoslyn did not want him to hear any hint that Mary’s conformity and outward obedience was not perfect.

  Jane brought no warning, only asked whether Mary wanted anything to drink before retiring. However, Rhoslyn noticed a quick glance in her direction and was forced to stifle a sigh. So, it was a complication that Rhoslyn had not anticipated; Jane was jealous. That was unfortunate, as Mary warmly reciprocated Jane’s affection and Jane could turn Mary against Rosamund Scot—well liked and trusted, but not loved as Jane was.

  “Here, take my seat, please,” Rhoslyn said, getting to her feet and curtseying to Mary. “I was only telling Lady Mary how devoted Prince Edward seems to be to Lady Elizabeth. It is pretty to see them together, he, like a little brother, hanging on her words.”