“Master Walsingham, we did not expect you so soon.” Cecil did not greet me and I lowered my eyes, feigning subservience. Evidently, I was indeed to act the role of manservant, as Walsingham confirmed with his next words: “I apologize for the inconvenience. The trip took less time than expected and I hired a wherry to avoid the Bridge. But, my man and I are clearly not fit company. If a room could be made available…?”
Dudley guffawed, swiveling with aristocratic bonhomie to his fellow nobles. “Do you hear that, my lords? They would like a room! Perhaps we can equip it with fine linen and a hot bath, as well, eh?” His derisive laughter faded abruptly. As he swerved back to us, he said, “Lest you had not heard, Her Majesty has only just assumed her throne. I’m afraid we are full at this time, unless you’d care to bed in one of the kennels.” He fixed his taunting gaze on me. “I’m sure your manservant is acquainted with such, having lain with dogs all his life.”
I kept my face averted, lest my disgust for him showed. I noticed Cecil was adept at hiding his own distaste, well acquainted with Dudley’s preemptory manner. He also knew how deep the rift ran between my former master and me; but Dudley was still a childhood friend and intimate of the queen’s, and Cecil managed to display the appropriate level of respect when he replied, “My lord, we are of course fully aware of how little space there is at court. However, I’m sure Her Majesty would wish us to find suitable lodgings for our guests.”
Rage darkened Dudley’s countenance but before he could retort, a sudden hush fell over the hall, followed by a susurration that rippled through the courtiers like wind. At the dais, the nobles tugged at their doublets and hastened to bow. Dudley himself did not move, staring at me with a violent promise that seemed to empty the hall around us, so that we stood alone. He mouthed, “You are mine, Prescott,” and then he swept into practiced obeisance, leaving me to whirl about as Elizabeth made her entrance.
The effect she had on the assembly was immediate. Everyone seemed to hold their breath as her slim figure passed through a flutter of curtsies and bows. She held a jeweled pomander, and a slight flush on her angular cheekbones enhanced her pallor. She wore sienna damask, her fiery hair twined in an agate-studded net to expose the length of her alabaster throat. She was not beautiful—her forehead too high and features too narrow, her nose an aquiline thrust—but she conveyed such a consummate illusion of beauty that most believed her to be. Her dark amber eyes glittered, capturing me with that leonine intensity that first made me hers from the moment she had directed their power at me five years ago. Now, after having survived numerous attempts to either imprison or execute her, she had finally attained the seemingly impossible feat of becoming queen. I had been one of those who had fought to see her to this moment, and my heart swelled at the sight of her, so that I couldn’t move until one of her thin red-gold brows arched.
Lurching to one knee, my awkward obeisance brought forth a covert smile on her lips that vanished as soon as it appeared. She swept past me to mount the dais, her women bustling behind her to arrange themselves on upholstered cushions at her feet.
I glanced up at these women, my breath catching in my throat as I braced to find Kate among them; to my simultaneous relief and disappointment, the woman I loved and had forsaken was not present.
Elizabeth waved her hand, bringing the entire hall to its feet; on her finger, she wore the signet ring I had last seen adorning her sister, Mary. “Carry on,” she said in a slightly hoarse voice. “I’ll receive everyone shortly.” As the courtiers returned to various activities while maintaining covetous watch on her, she shifted her attention to us.
“Well?” she said. “I sense tension. Would anyone care to explain?”
Dudley shoved forward. “Your Majesty, I was just informing my lord Secretary Cecil that given the quantity and rank of those already seeking lodgings at court, we cannot possibly accommodate these … new arrivals of his.”
His tone, to my revulsion, had turned acquiescent, almost servile, but it did not fool me. I knew his history. I had lived it. His family’s machinations had cost both his father and younger brother their heads, but Dudley had survived, though he was as guilty of past treason as they were. He had always relied on his charm and long-time association with Elizabeth, and as past experience had shown, she was not immune to him even when fully apprised of his guile. In my opinion, he had always been her greatest threat, his ambition overriding all other considerations, including his own unfortunate marriage to a Norfolk gentleman’s daughter. He kept his wife far from court, forever scheming to find a way to end the marriage so he could wed Elizabeth instead. Elizabeth had kept him dancing on the end of a long string, alluding at promises she had thus far failed to deliver, but I had seen how much it cost her, and I was not reassured to witness the reciprocal warmth in her eyes as she contemplated him. Theirs was a lifelong bond, forged since childhood by the volatile arena of the court; their magnetic attraction now seemed to burnish the air between them like invisible flame.
Then she said with a touch of dry mirth, “I created you Master of my Horse, my lord Robert, not steward of my palace. I would see all my guests lodged as befits their station. We have this entire city at our disposal; surely, not every nook is taken? And if my lord Secretary holds these new arrivals of his in such esteem, then surely so must we.”
She was playing by the rules of the game she had long established, the implicit warning in her tone indicating she would tolerate only so many liberties from him in public. Humiliation darkened Dudley’s face. Unlike the other nobles, he remained defiantly clean-shaven, doubtless because a beard would have detracted from the taut virility of his youth. I tended to forget he was still a young man, only twenty-six, in fact, a year older than both Elizabeth and me.
Cecil said, “We are honored, Majesty, by your gracious consideration. Master Walsingham has been abroad these past six years, as you know, and serves in my employ. I assure you, he shall prove a valuable asset to your reign.”
“I have no doubt.” Elizabeth accepted the goblet a page brought her. Before the page could pour from his decanter, Dudley burst up the dais to take charge of it and serve the queen himself. “You are welcome to our court, Master Walsingham,” she went on, with a grateful nod at Dudley. Save for the one brief glance we had exchanged, she had not looked at me again. I wasn’t certain how to interpret it. Was she pleased I was here or had my presence brought with it uncomfortable reminders of everything I knew about her?
“Alas,” she went on, “I regret we cannot talk more at length, for as you can see”—she motioned to the row of courtiers already queuing up to greet her—“I’m going to be occupied most of this night and, I’m afraid, for the next few days. Have Cecil arrange a convenient time. He now oversees my council and,” she said with pointed emphasis, “my daily schedule.”
Still, her expansive smile after this speech conveyed more delight than I’d ever seen her display, clear proof that after years of sidestepping those who yearned to see her fall, including her own sister, our late queen, she was enjoying her newfound power. Cecil had always been her most stalwart champion, as dedicated to his own self-preservation as hers. He had worked tirelessly to steer her past the scaffold that loomed over her during the past reigns, recruiting informants like me to ensure her safety. She could not have chosen a more capable man to rely upon, as I had good cause to know. When it came to protecting Elizabeth, no one was more lethal than Cecil.
“Your Majesty, it would be my privilege.” Walsingham bowed again. Elizabeth nodded and beckoned Cecil to the dais, obliging Dudley to step aside as she and her secretary took a few moments to converse. Dudley scowled. He and Cecil had never been friends; Dudley may not have known exactly how deep Cecil’s hatred of him ran, but he knew enough to suspect that the man who had once served his own father could never be trusted, and I took a moment to savor his discomfort before I reached for our bags.
Then I felt his attention fixate on me once more. Looking up, I saw his mouth
twisting into a malignant smile. I had seen that same look on his face throughout my childhood, whenever he decided to make my existence unbearable by waylaying and thrashing me or chase me into the stable loft so he and his hellion brothers could strew my belongings in the hog sty. Again, I schooled my expression until Cecil left the queen and bustled back to Walsingham and me. “Her Majesty has allocated a room for you in the lower part of the palace,” Cecil murmured. “It is not spacious, but private enough. I’ll take you there.”
As we departed from the hall and the courtiers surged forward eagerly to receive their favor from the queen, I did not look around.
* * *
We moved through the galleries, where tapestries and smoke-stained paintings hung on the walls, the light of tapers in sconces ebbing into patches of darkness that brought out the glow of the icy moon outside. Much here remained unchanged, portions of the palace still raw and bunted in scaffolding, an ever-evolving transformation that had begun under Henry’s reign. When I had first come here, I’d found it a bewildering labyrinth designed to trap the unwary. Now, I easily recognized certain turns and isolated courtyards beyond the bays, having spent enough time racing its passages that I would never get lost again.
Cecil’s voice brought me to attention. “I’m relieved you are both here at last. I trust the voyage wasn’t too difficult, given the hasty nature of my summons?”
“Not at all,” replied Walsingham. “And lest it be of concern, I had my papers crated and shipped separately as requested. They should arrive at the assigned warehouse in a few days. The rest of it was destroyed.”
“Good, good.” Cecil nodded. “I’ve no reason to think you were marked abroad as one of my agents, or indeed that anyone outside my immediate circle knows what kind of work you do, but one can never be too cautious these days, especially with Her Majesty about to declare herself. I needn’t remind you that as a Protestant queen, whom Rome and Europe’s Catholic princes believe to be illegitimate, she is in a vulnerable position until she can prove her strength.” He paused, grimacing. I found it strange he’d yet to direct himself to me, behaving as though I truly were Walsingham’s servant. “Indeed, we have Catholic nobles in this very realm who, if I know them at all, will seek to resist Elizabeth’s rule and even undermine it. We mustn’t let our guard down now that she has the throne but rather ensure she does not lose it.”
Walsingham frowned, though Cecil’s report did not come as a surprise. Since I had known Elizabeth, she had been in the midst of peril. However, I had hoped she would find relief now that she was queen, and I finally ventured to make my opinion known. “Surely, she can count on some measure of safety?”
“Safety?” Cecil regarded me in astonishment. “She’s less safe now than she ever was. We face entire nations of would-be assassins.” He ticked off each menace on his fingers. “First, we have France, where her cousin Mary of Scots resides and already claims to hold superior right to England by virtue of her own Tudor blood. Then we have Spain, where our late queen’s widower Philip II holds out hope that he may yet win Elizabeth’s hand, yet his sole true desire is to make this kingdom his. Last but not least, we have His Holiness the pope in Rome, who would muster every Catholic force he can to depose Elizabeth.” He paused again. “Does any of this sound safe to you?”
I resisted the urge to scowl. Cecil always had the ability to make me feel like a gauche squire, easily duped. “No, it does not,” I said. “But does she not also have the entire realm and treasury at her command, not to mention the fact that we sit on an isle—”
“The realm is divided,” interrupted Cecil, “and our treasury near bankrupt. Between Mary’s catastrophic reign and the exodus of our tradesmen because of her persecution, she has left us on the brink of ruin. Our coinage is debased, revenue in arrears, and religious and political stability most uncertain. We have much work to do if we are to shore up our defenses. In the meantime, Her Majesty’s sole protection lies in our intelligence and her royal person, which we must offer in marriage as soon as possible, so she can provide the realm with an heir—and not become an international scandal because of her dalliance with Dudley.”
The moment I heard his pronouncement, I understood he was about to thrust me into another unpleasant assignation. When I saw him exchange a meaningful look with Walsingham, I could not contain my anger any longer.
“God’s teeth!” I swore, coming to a halt. I had to hold my tongue as a cadre of courtiers hurried past, late for the festivities in the hall and trailing cloying perfume. As soon as they were gone, I said, “Have I been brought all this way to be your fishmonger?”
Cecil said coldly, “I believe it is treason to compare our sovereign to a bawd.”
“Aren’t you doing just that?” I said, eyeing Walsingham, who remained impervious. “Did you know about this?” I demanded. “Is that what all my training was about, all those days and nights of memorizing ciphers and waving a sword until my shoulders bled? I thought I was to be an intelligencer, not some common lackey brought to court to—” I returned my glare to Cecil. “To stand guard over the queen’s bed like a eunuch.”
Cecil pursed his lips. As the tension between us thickened, he motioned Walsingham to a nearby window seat. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, Cecil said, “I believe we struck a pact: I protect you and you protect her. I expect you to abide by it.”
“I have abided by it,” I retorted. “Indeed, I’ve done nothing but abide. Lest you forget, I gave up everything to do your bidding. I nearly died for it. I had to go into exile and leave Kate”—my voice quavered, despite my efforts to control it—“without explanation, because it was safer for her to think I had abandoned her than risk her falling prey to those who would do me harm. All of this I have done for you without question.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” he said, with some asperity. “On the contrary, if memory serves, you have done nothing but question me from the hour we met.”
“Because you were never fully honest with me!” I had to pause, draw in a ragged breath. I was tired and out of sorts. Seeing Dudley in the hall had rattled my nerves and fatigue dragged on me like wet wool. This was not the time or place for a confrontation, and still I could not help myself. The last thing I wanted was to be a pawn in another gambit against Dudley, with my own life at stake. Taking Cecil by the arm, I drew him further away from Walsingham.
“You saw how Dudley reacted when he saw me,” I went on in a low voice. “He’s hell-bent on vengeance because I thwarted him. I helped Elizabeth escape when his father ruled in her brother’s stead; I brought his family down by working to see her sister Mary to the throne. And the last time I went up against him, when he was imprisoned in the Tower, I coerced letters from him that would have incriminated Elizabeth in his plot to depose her sister. Dudley hates me. He always has. He also has the cunning, if he sets his mind to it, to realize we keep a secret from her—about me. If he discovers I am part Tudor myself, the last-born son of her own aunt, Mary of Suffolk, it will be my doom. He knows Elizabeth will not take kindly to any threat to her throne. Her own father King Henry had men beheaded for less.”
“Your imagination runs away with you,” said Cecil. “Dudley will never find out the truth of who you are. Moreover, even if he did, no one would believe him, much less Elizabeth. His enmity toward you is so overt, it makes him look desperate.” He stepped closer. “The threat to your well-being is less pressing than the threat he poses to this entire realm. He may wish to see you ruined, but he is far more committed to his own aggrandizement. Need I remind you that he has always sought the crown of king-consort?” When I did not answer, Cecil nodded. “No, I see that I do not. You know as well as I do how high Dudley aims, and once a woman loses her virtue, regardless of her rank, she has lost it forever. One moment of weakness on her part, and Dudley could win the biggest prize of all. If he does, then we will all indeed be at his mercy.”
The gravity in his tone gave me pause. “You talk as if you believe she
would actually marry him. Have you any proof that she … that they have…” The words stuck in my throat. The very thought of Dudley and Elizabeth becoming lovers sickened me.
“No, I have no proof,” admitted Cecil, to my relief. “But you also know there has always been that possibility. She cannot see, or doesn’t want to see, how dangerous he is. Now, for the first time in her life, everything is hers for the taking—or so she believes. Becoming queen has clouded her judgment. Like most inexperienced new monarchs, she gives no credence to the wolves waiting to devour her. And we both know that Dudley is the worst wolf of all.”
I had to agree. Nevertheless, I still thought he discounted Elizabeth’s capability. She might love Dudley but after having fought so long to obtain her throne, I did not think she was about to surrender power to anyone. Still, the very fact that Cecil had reason to doubt sent a chill through me. I was not sure I wanted to hear all the reasons why he harbored such a fear.
“He’s still married, isn’t he?” I countered. “She’ll never consent to be his mistress.”
“For now, yes, but it is the only obstacle that impedes him, and I’ve reason to believe that obstacle may soon disappear. His wife is gravely ill. My informants report she has a malignant growth in her breast. Should she die…”
“Does Elizabeth know?” I said, dreading his response.
“Yes. I told her. Indeed, I warned her that to show favor to a man like Dudley can only blacken her reputation. She would not heed me, saying that while she may have made me her secretary of state, my purview does not extend to her private affairs. One of her first official acts was to grant Dudley a title. She has also appointed apartments for him close to hers, where they can be seen daily, practicing the latest dances, playing the lute, sharing books and God knows what else. He’s even invited his so-called astrologer, Dr. Dee, to devise a propitious date for her coronation. It’s an outrage: the queen of England consulting that madman who believes himself a conduit for spirits—and all because Dudley whispers ceaselessly in her ear.”
The Tudor Vendetta Page 3