Perfect Shadows
Page 36
“Yes,” I admitted baldly.
“Ah, that I have never had. I thought myself above it, sometimes, and other times I even admitted to myself that I was afraid. Afraid of giving that sort of power to any man, afraid of what men do to women who submit. But now, now I am dying and I cannot help but wonder—I wonder if I was wrong, I wonder what I have missed, and I know that I am too old to find out.” A tear traced its way over the painted cheek to fall soundlessly onto the embroidered gown she wore. I watched its progress, then took her cold hand in mine.
“Why do you tell me, your Majesty?” I asked softly.
“Because you kissed me once, old and ugly as I am, and as if you meant it.” She turned her thin face, with its plaster of paint away from me, as if unable to bear the weight of my gaze. I said nothing for a time, then leant over, bringing her hand to my lips and pressing a kiss upon her palm. She did not turn, and I untied the strings of her wrist ruff, letting it fall. Her tight fitting Italian sleeve was laced from elbow to wrist, and I worked the lacings loose, still in silence, baring the flesh of her arm. The skin was fine-grained as silk, and almost as white as the plastering of paint that covered her face, shoulders and breast. I traced the blue lines of her veins with my finger before raising her wrist to my lips. She turned then to face me, and a single tremor ran through her slight body as my teeth pierced the thin skin and her blood began to flow. Her eyelids drooped with the pleasure that welled in her, bringing a fulfillment that she had denied herself all her life.
I soon drew back, my fingers pressing the small wounds that would be closed before her sleeve was laced over them, and gone without a trace by morning. I took her chin in my hand, catching her gaze as her eyes fluttered open, and murmured my farewells to her. I kissed her once more, this remarkable old woman, then left her to her dreams. She would remember my visit, held fast in her most secret heart, but would never speak of it, and never look upon my face again.
As I stepped from the room, the order came. “Arrest that man,” Cecil said, and two men took my arms, while several others stood by. He ducked back through the doorway, and emerged a few moments later. “It is well for you that the Queen is unharmed,” he stated. “Will you give me your parole, to come along quietly, or must I have you fettered?”
“Fetters are not necessary, my lord,” I told him, and he nodded.
I was taken through several chambers to a windowless closet containing nothing but a bench and a chair. Word was sent to Geoffrey, to come and fetch me. While we awaited him in the study, Cecil took the chair and eyed me, sprawling with a nonchalance I did not feel on the bench, for several minutes before asking abruptly, “Can you think of any good reason why I should not commit you to the Tower?”
“Can you think of any good reason why you should?” I countered in surprise, sitting up to stare at him.
“You were to leave England, yet here you are.”
“Such undertakings are not accomplished in a day, my lord! We leave tomorrow for Dover, and sail for Calais within the week, weather permitting.”
“Why did you seek an audience with the Queen? Did you hope, behind my back, to persuade her to revoke your banishment? That would be a most dangerous course, your grace, I assure you! Treachery is an ugly word.”
“Uglier than blackmail? You are the one that has the reputation for double-dealing, my lord, not I!” Cecil flushed darkly, a vein pulsing in his forehead, but before he could take any exception to my rash speech, Geoffrey was shown into the room. Cecil swallowed once, to regain control, and turned to Geoffrey.
“Your grace, your brother was caught here.”
“So I gathered. I am not pleased, Kryštof,” he said.
“Her Majesty sent for me; I came to say goodbye,” I responded, indignantly.
“Yes, I have seen her Majesty,” he said, frowning at me before returning his gaze to Cecil. “My apologies for your trouble, my lord Secretary. I shall see to it that my wayward brother does not escape my care again.”
“Will you stay in Paris?” There was a calculating glint in Cecil’s eye. Did he think to persuade Geoffrey to spy for him? I shook my head and made bold to answer.
“No, my lord. My brother feels that a sojourn in Sybria would be more practical for my correction,” I said, bleakly. Geoffrey nodded and asked me to leave the room, while he conferred with Lord Robert.
I paced the anteroom under the watchful eyes of the two men-at-arms who had stationed themselves at the outer door. I would be a virtual prisoner in Geoffrey’s adopted homeland, not speaking the language, not knowing the country, but he had promised that if I kept faith and obeyed him, in a year or two we would begin to travel once more. He emerged and we left without a word between us, but once mounted and headed home, he turned to me.
“I have seen her Majesty,” he repeated. “My lord Secretary was quite ready to clap you straight into the Tower if I was out of reach, and when I observed your mark upon her, I was inclined to let him! I warned you.”
“I saw no harm in it, since we were leaving!” He reined up, reaching over to jerk my reins from my hands at the same time. I flinched away from the fury on his face.
“The harm is in your continual defiance and disobedience! I will break you to my authority, or you will never leave my country.” I frowned at that. “I will not risk our family for you, because you have not sense enough to shun trouble, but needs must run your neck, and all of ours, into Cecil’s noose!” My hands trembled as I took the reins back from him. “We will be out of his reach soon,” Geoffrey continued, more gently.
“Yes, leaving him holding evidence that would condemn me to the stake!”
“Yes, think well upon that, Christopher, but remember that that document will lose its potency when the old queen dies. Cecil would not be fool enough to produce such charges in James Stuart’s court, you may be sure.” That eased my mind somewhat, but I was not certain that James would hesitate to condemn another for his own besetting sin. I consoled myself with the thought that upon my return to England, I would set about relieving Lord Robert of that particular piece of evidence.
Several days later, I watched the white cliffs recede, glimmering in the glowing dawn. Geoffrey placed a hand upon my arm, and even smiled when I turned to face him.
“For what are kings when regiment is gone, /but perfect shadows on a sunshine day?”
he quoted quietly. “Christopher, we are kings without regiment, we are perfect shadows. Seven years is not so very long, not for us. That may be, perhaps, the greatest gift we have to offer, the gift of time. Now, go and take your rest before the day claims you as you stand.”
My thoughts whirled as I stumbled down the ladder-like stairs to the darkened cabin. Time. The one thing for which I had hungered throughout my existence was now mine. I had time.
The End
Table of Contents
Copyright
Epigraph
Dedication
PART ONE: Shadows In The Sun Or An Undead Man In Deptford
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Part Two: Shadows Relict
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Part Three: Shadows of Treason
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40