His father slumped at his desk in silence, staring at his clasped hands. Robert held his tongue for as long he dared before saying, “Father, you have other sons—and daughters, as well. Do you want us all tainted? Will you ride into battle and make yourself a rebel while Mother weeps at your death?”
What most people missed about John Dudley, Robert thought, was his humility. He had it—though it wasn’t often in evidence—but one had only to see him with his family to know that his love for them was far greater than his ambition. Robert knew he had won; now he was just waiting for his father to speak.
At long last his father raised his head. “Send your mother to me. At first light I will tell the troops to disperse and deliver myself to the king.”
There were many things Robert wanted to say—I’m sorry for Guildford, I’ll do everything I can to see you redeemed, forgive me—but through the sudden tightness in his throat all he could manage was, “Trust me, Father. I’ll do everything in my power to return you home soon.”
Even if he had to bring down the Chancellor of England in the bargain.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DOMINIC COULDN’T TAKE his eyes off Minuette. Dressed in peasant clothing and with a bruised look about her eyes as though she’d been sleepless for days, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
After that first startled moment of being woken in the dead of night, followed by the sweet relief of holding her close, Dominic had himself woken William and sent for Elizabeth to join them. She was still in the camp because she had doggedly refused to leave. “Not until Minuette is safe,” she had insisted, and no one dared defy her. Now the four of them sat together in William’s tent as Minuette related her story.
William held her hand, stroking it as she told them of how Robert had led her out of the castle and through the encampment surrounding the motte.
“Did they strike you as men ready to fight?” Dominic asked.
“They struck me as men I didn’t want to see my face,” she replied. “I don’t know what a force ready to fight looks like.”
“What about Robert?” William interrupted. “What did he say about his father?”
“He said that if he has not brought Northumberland to surrender by nightfall tomorrow, he will leave the postern gate I came through unbarred and Dudley badges cached to get a handful of you through the camp.”
Dominic and William shared a considering glance. That was further than Dominic had thought Robert would take it. Persuading his father to wisdom was one thing—opening a back door to an enemy force was pure betrayal. “Were we wrong about Robert’s involvement in his father’s plots?” Dominic asked.
“When I spoke with him, Robert all but admitted to Alyce de Clare. Although …” Minuette hesitated. “He did seem genuinely surprised to find that someone tried to poison me.”
“It’s irrelevant,” Elizabeth broke in. “All that matters is getting Northumberland out of that castle without bloodshed. If Robert can bring that about, then he’s useful. For now.”
Dominic wondered how much that apparent indifference cost her. She had left court in the latter part of August and he had not seen her again until one month later, when Northumberland released her. In those weeks, Elizabeth had aged; though her beauty was untouched, her spirit was darker. But then again, it had always been Robert who had brought out the lighthearted side of her.
“Right.” William nodded. “Elizabeth, take Minuette to your tent. As soon as the sun rises, the two of you will ride out.”
“No,” Elizabeth said. “Not until it’s over.”
“It is over. You are both safe now.”
“I’m not leaving until Northumberland is in your hands.”
“This is nothing to do with you. If you hadn’t been so stubborn and secretive, you’d never have been caught in this mess at all!”
“And that’s why I’m staying!” Elizabeth shouted back. The siblings were on their feet, glaring at each other. Dominic felt the brush of Minuette’s fingertips against his. He nearly grasped her hand, but William’s distraction wouldn’t last forever.
Elizabeth’s voice cracked once before she got it under control. “Northumberland might never have taken this stand if I hadn’t made it easy for him. There are women and children in that castle who do not deserve to be caught between the two of you. I am staying until the innocent are safe and Northumberland is in your hands.”
“Are you sure you’re not staying to plead for Robert?”
“I am finished pleading for Robert Dudley.”
William scowled and shook his head, but said grudgingly, “Fine. But only because I expect the rest of my troops tomorrow. The morning after the soldiers arrive, you and Minuette are on your way no matter how matters at the castle stand.”
But as dawn broke just a few hours later, ushering in a misty, chilly morning, one of William’s sentries intercepted a rider from Dudley Castle, carrying a white banner of surrender.
William and Dominic rode to the castle with an impressive contingent of royal guards and heavy cavalry. More out of respect for Northumberland’s dignity than to intimidate him, Dominic thought. William had his father’s gift for merciful symbolism once he’d established his authority. Northumberland waited outside the Triple Gate surrounded by three of his sons: Robert, Ambrose, and Henry. The duke knelt before William. In a clear, carrying voice, he submitted himself to “the sovereign it is my good pleasure to serve in the name of God and my own conscience.”
Northumberland and his sons were arrested. The women and children were allowed to remain at Dudley Castle under royal control. William had named the Earl of Arundel temporary governor of Northumberland’s estates. Very temporary, Dominic thought. He didn’t know if William was looking forward more to executing the duke or confiscating his lands and wealth.
Robert, uncharacteristically, was completely silent save for one question. “Is Lord Rochford marching with your troops or does he remain in London?”
William studied him for a minute before replying. “Rochford’s in London. As Lord Chancellor, he will oversee your reception at the Tower.”
And just like that, it was over. Dominic spurred his horse ahead of the rest, to see Elizabeth and Minuette on their way before the prisoners were brought into camp.
Both women were dressed for riding in the princess’s clothing that Northumberland had sent to the camp upon Elizabeth’s release. Meant for riding and hunting, the gowns were less elaborate than the typical court wardrobe: dressed so similarly, Elizabeth in red and Minuette in blue, they almost looked as though they could be sisters.
“It’s done,” Dominic informed them tersely. “William wants you away before the prisoners get here.”
Elizabeth nodded once in acknowledgment, then turned away to mount her horse. The women had an escort of one hundred armed men—no chance of being waylaid or changing their minds along the way. Elizabeth was returning to court. But Minuette had persuaded William to let her go to Wynfield.
As Dominic moved to help her mount, she asked appealingly, “You will come, won’t you?”
“It’s not wise.”
“I don’t want to be wise any longer. I want to be honest. Come to Wynfield and we’ll decide how to tell William the truth.”
The truth … “I’ll come.”
Minuette tried to persuade Elizabeth to stay at Wynfield with her for at least one night. But Elizabeth declined. She was not in a companionable mood, and as gentle and perceptive as her friend was, Elizabeth was far too raw to even touch on the subject of Robert. They rode next to each other in heavy silence the last hour before their roads would separate, and finally Elizabeth asked the question that had weighed on her. “Did he kill Alyce?”
Elizabeth had not been able to get the dead woman’s face out of her head for a week now. Although she’d hardly paid any attention to Alyce de Clare while the woman was alive, they had crossed paths on the very night of Alyce’s death. I should have seen it then, Elizabeth
thought heavily. The way she looked at Robert, her insolence in acknowledging me, the hint of pity in her voice … I should have known she’d been Robert’s mistress.
And on that very night, Alyce had been found at the bottom of a staircase with a broken neck. Accident—or deadly intent?
Minuette said decisively, “I’m sure it was an accident. I suspect Alyce confronted him, no doubt they argued. But I do not believe Robert would intentionally kill a woman.”
Neither did Elizabeth believe it, but she was beginning to see that she was not the best judge of anything where Robert Dudley was concerned.
What had John Dee warned her? Even the clearest eyes cannot see straight into the sun. Robert had been her sun, and she had been blind. Never again.
They reached the branching of the road where a third of the guards would continue with Minuette to her home near Stratford-upon-Avon. Elizabeth and the remaining guards would take the road to Oxford.
Minuette reined up next to Elizabeth. She looked smaller than usual, as though the captivity had diminished her. For one moment, Elizabeth felt that she was looking at a stranger and her friend’s remoteness smote her conscience.
“Are you sure you want to go to Wynfield?” Elizabeth asked. “Perhaps it is not ideal for you to be alone just now.”
“It will be good for me.” Minutte smiled, and the familiar vivacity of it eased Elizabeth’s heart. “There are things I must put in order at home. I won’t stay away long.”
“William won’t let you.” Elizabeth laughed softly.
Minuette’s smile was sad. “Goodbye, Elizabeth.”
It sounded like more of a farewell than it should have.
William and Dominic were on the road two days later. It was the last day of September and the skies hung low with sullen clouds. Northumberland and his sons were somewhere ahead of them on the road to London, under the personal guard of the Earl of Sussex. Dominic was glad to be riding freely with William rather than guarding prisoners.
He was unsure how to broach the subject of Minuette and Wynfield Mote. They passed the branching road to her home the first day, but Dominic still said nothing, afraid that if he proposed going immediately, William would seize the same opportunity. And figuring out how to tell William the truth didn’t mean throwing it in his face at the first opportunity. Minuette had always been right that it would need to be tactfully and carefully done. So Dominic rode on to Oxford with the king, reaching the university town just before dusk on a sullenly wet evening that gave full promise of a bitter winter to come.
They were quartered at King’s College, in plain but adequate rooms that quickly filled up with tapestries and furniture for the king’s overnight stay. William insisted on visiting the fellows and students at dinner, moving amongst them in a way that almost made Dominic jealous. What would it be like to have the gift of easy conversation? he wondered. And was it a gift, or just very good training for a king who had to be popular with his people?
The first sign they had of trouble was the exhausted horse, lathered in sweat, quivering in the courtyard of the college as they returned to their quarters. Someone had ridden here at great speed.
Dominic followed William up the stairs two at a time. They met Harrington on his way down to find them. He told them what little he knew while leading them to the solarium where the rider waited. “It’s one of Norfolk’s men, he’d ridden to London and Rochford sent him on here. I gather there’s been violence along the border, but he didn’t say much. He was ordered to report directly to you.”
The rider was young and possessed of northern sturdiness, though his face was tinged with gray. He looked as though he hadn’t slept for days, a fact he soon confirmed. “Lord Norfolk ordered speed. I’ve ridden straight through from London and Carlisle before that.”
“Tell me,” William ordered.
“It was bloody,” the young man said wretchedly, looking younger by the minute. “We’d heard of raids, so his lordship sent us across the border, as a warning, like. We weren’t expecting trouble, just a band of reivers, but they were waiting for us. A full army. They swept through us like grain. And they didn’t take hostages, either, just killed everyone they could reach. We lost three hundred men before we could get back to Carlisle. They didn’t follow us, thank God, or we’d all have been lost.”
William shared a swift look with Dominic and it seemed they had the same thought. Bloody Scots—always meddling at the worst possible moment. “What’s Norfolk doing?” the king asked.
“He’s mustering to Carlisle, with scouts posted along a twenty-mile stretch of the border. They hadn’t crossed it when I left.” The rider reached inside his doublet and pulled out a creased and sweat-stained letter. “He ordered me to put this into your hands alone.”
William broke the seal and read, then raised his head. He studied the young man before him. “Do you know what this says?”
“No, Your Majesty. But I can guess.”
“How?”
“Because I was there, and Lord Norfolk wasn’t. I’m the one who told him about the banners that rode with the army.”
“What banners?” Dominic asked.
“A sable leopard and battle-axe on a field of scarlet,” William answered neutrally. “Renaud LeClerc’s banner. It was LeClerc who led the Scots.”
Dominic stilled and in that moment felt something close to a premonition. This was not going to end well. “I don’t believe that.”
“Of course you do. You’ve said it yourself, how many times? LeClerc is the best commander Henri has. The French king’s put him where he wants him—on my border. Whether it’s because Henri knows what I intend, or merely because he’s hoping to provoke me, it doesn’t matter.”
“Your Majesty.” Dominic looked at Norfolk’s messenger, young and exhausted and clearly not meant to overhear this politically charged conversation. With a wave of his hand, William dismissed the messenger and Dominic told Harrington to find the young man a bed.
When he and William were alone, Dominic said bluntly, “What will you do?”
“Henri seems to want war, or maybe he just wants to see how far he can push me. I thought I had taught him that lesson already. It seems he didn’t learn it.”
“Norfolk will need additional men if he’s going to cross the border to fight.”
“Is that what you would do—cross the border?”
“It’s what Henri expects. He wouldn’t put Renaud there if he didn’t think he’d be needed for a series of full-scale battles. But you beat Henri last time by doing what he did not expect.”
“Why not just bring it to open war now? I’ve got five thousand men nearby who can march at speed,” William argued. “And if France is seen to break the treaty, then I’m no longer locked into marrying Henri’s daughter. Outrage against foreign Catholics will run so high that I need not delay marrying Minuette.”
“I think you overestimate the backlash. France is Catholic, but the Scots themselves are Protestant. I don’t think you benefit one way or the other at this point, for it’s not only the religious issue at stake. There will be many who will protest your marriage to Minuette on purely political grounds. And border wars are bloody affairs. It’s the North that will pay, and it’s the North that is most precariously held. Push them into war, and you may regret it. Also, it will soon be winter and any violence will have to be suspended.”
“So talk to me about the unexpected.”
“Negotiate,” Dominic said tersely. “Keep this from blowing out of control. It saves crops and homes, not to mention lives, and it earns you a reputation as a peacemaker. It will tie Henri’s hands. He doesn’t want to be the warmonger to your more balanced and humane approach. And once you’ve restrained yourself so far in the face of blatant provocation, Henri will be caught completely off guard when the time comes for you to throw his treaty and his daughter back in his face.”
That wasn’t exactly pushing William into the French marriage, but Dominic did not want war. Even
less did he want William using this as an excuse to marry Minuette immediately. Please agree, he begged silently.
William frowned, and picked up the map showing the Scots border in detail. His expression was inscrutable: he might be considering the difficulty of a late autumn battle, or he might be gauging where to send his soldiers pouring across. Dominic didn’t move, afraid to tip the balance the wrong way.
Replacing the map on the table, William nodded. “Good. I’ll send a rider to Norfolk, ordering him to keep his muster in Carlisle and not to engage unless the Scots cross the border first. And I’ll tell him to expect you.”
“Me?”
“Who better to negotiate than Renaud LeClerc’s English friend? You are the one thing the Frenchman and I have in common.”
“Fair enough. I’m sure Renaud and I can come to an accommodation.”
Something of his relief must have showed, because William added, “I’ve missed you, Dom. It’s my fault, I know, I’ve been so busy trying to know and do everything myself that I’ve not used you as I should. There is no one else who would have counseled me this wisely.” Clapping him on the shoulder, he continued, “Every king should have at least one advisor who is honest rather than prudent. I’m glad you’re mine.”
The first warning Minuette had was Carrie’s announcement that there was a gentleman below to see her. She had been working on a tapestry in the upper-floor solarium, and in her absorption had not even heard the sound of hooves. She asked Carrie who it was, but her maid retreated as if she had not heard the question. Fidelis raised his head and looked at her with a knowledgeable gaze. She had kept him at her side since her return. His warmth and size were comforting against the memories of her brief imprisonment.
“Do you think it’s him?” she asked. The wolfhound answered by quirking an ear.
Dominic was in the hall, standing with his back to her. She contented herself for a moment drinking in the way he stood and the way his dark hair curled against the neckline of his doublet. She realized she was trembling with the urge to run her fingers through his hair.
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