‘I shall be out in ten minutes, Cathy. Tell Lord Robert I shall see eight petitioners from the gallery after that. No more, mind. I want to go riding this morning, so I don’t want too much delay.’
Rob watched as Lady Howard curtseyed again and turned to leave. He hadn’t seen his father in the Presence Chamber, but that did not mean he wasn’t close by, ready to be summoned at the Queen’s pleasure. Rob thought that if the Queen intended to ride, his father would probably be organising the mounts for whichever courtiers wanted to join in and be part of the Queen’s circle that day. The constant jockeying for favour and position was one of the things he liked least about the court.
‘So, Master Rob,’ Elizabeth nodded to the settle at the other side of the hearth and he sat gingerly on the edge, still clutching the parchment. ‘You come from Master Dee?’
‘I do, your Majesty. He said you requested this, and I was to put it in your hands alone.’ He again proffered the parchment and this time Elizabeth took it, looking up at him sharply.
‘Do you know what it is, my Lord?’ Elizabeth’s brows rose in enquiry, and Rob inclined his own head slowly.
‘I do, Majesty. I helped Master Dee with some of the calculations. But, upon my honour, your Grace, I have not discussed it with anyone.’
Elizabeth nodded thoughtfully before breaking the seal on the scroll and unrolling it.
‘If anyone knew what Master Dee was doing for me, what you were helping him with, what I was requiring from you both, do you know what would happen?’
Rob regarded the Queen with equanimity and lowered his voice to reply.
‘We serve you, your Majesty. You are the Supreme Governor of the Church in England, and we do your bidding. It is not for the clergy to gainsay you in what is right and proper for your own Church. You are the Church.’
‘But this, my Lord, is considered heresy. We could all suffer for that, even me.’ Elizabeth’s voice was little more than a whispered hiss, although Rob was sure that Lady Howard wouldn’t have allowed anyone near enough to the chamber door to hear what they discussed.
‘Nothing your Majesty does, says or thinks could be considered anything other than right, your Grace. You are chosen by God himself to lead this country, and God himself resides in your heart, guiding you, strengthening you. If you ask that something be done, then God has a hand in that request. Therefore how can it be heresy, against God’s law, when God himself has prompted the question though you?’
Elizabeth began to laugh her throaty chuckle, and she tapped Rob on the arm with the parchment.
‘Well said, my Lord. You have your father’s silver tongue, as well as your own particular charm.’ She smiled at him and rummaged on the table at the side of her chair, picking up the dagger she used to slit open her correspondence. It was beautifully crafted, having a gold hilt set with cabochon garnets and amethyst that merged seamlessly into a chased steel blade engraved with scrolls and curls. Elizabeth passed the magnificent blade to Rob.
‘A thank you, my Lord. For helping Master Dee, but for also seeing past the perceived heresy in this parchment to the deeper meaning below.’
Rob stood and bowed low before taking the blade from Elizabeth’s grasp.
‘Majesty, I am honoured. I ask for no reward, just to serve you is recompense enough.’
Elizabeth waved her hand negligently and Rob stopped speaking.
‘Yes, Master Rob, everyone says that. But then their hands are out for every remuneration they might secure, for themselves, for their family. I choose to reward you. Accept it with grace, from your grateful Queen.’
Rob bowed again, and flashed his breath-taking grin at the Queen, smothering a smile as he saw a flush creep up her neck. He was aware of the power of his smile, his genuine smile, over women and the Queen was no different to any other woman in her primal response to an attractive man.
‘And now, Master Rob, come here and interpret what Master Dee has cast for me in my horoscope. Tell me if we shall have victory over that damned Spaniard or if he shall cause me to lose my crown to my cousin.’
‘You shall never lose your throne, Majesty. Master Dee sees in the constellations that you shall be the greatest monarch that England has ever had.’ Rob knew that he was gilding the predictions with his own perception of what the Queen wished to hear, but Elizabeth was gazing at the numbers and symbols on the parchment, nodding as he spoke.
‘And the Spaniard?’ Elizabeth spat the word as always.
‘Master Dee confirms that Spain shall never be victorious over the might that is your Majesty’s England, your Grace. They may threaten and bombast, but England will prevail. England has you, and you are a lioness.’ Rob knew from the conversations he had had with his father since his return from the Netherlands that Spain was fighting a war on two fronts, and not winning either. To take on yet another conflict against England would stretch their resources beyond their limits, so he was confident that his ‘interpretation’ wouldn’t be disproved.
Elizabeth gave a firm nod and then rolled the parchment tightly, taking it across to the dresser. She unlocked a small door in the back of the upstand with a key from her pocket, and laid the scroll among several others concealed within the compartment. Relocking the door, she turned and held out her hand to Rob.
‘Come, my Lord. You shall escort me to those who wait my pleasure.’ She looked up at Rob, who towered over her slight frame, ‘And next time I summon you, I would be pleased to look at some of those famous maps you and Master Dee have been producing.’
‘As you wish, Majesty. I live to serve.’ Rob unconsciously echoed his father’s response to the Queen and offered his arm as he escorted her into her Presence Chamber.
Chapter 41
aughing, Lettice watched as Thomas led two ponies round the stable yard. She held Henry on her hip and had Robbie’s hand clutched tightly in her own lest he dart across and startle the horses in his excitement.
‘Poppet, settle down. When Thomas has led them to the fence, you can choose which one you want,’ Lettice beamed at her excited son, who was bouncing with enthusiasm.
‘I already know, Mama. I know which one I want. And when Henry is bigger, he can have the other, and then when I have outgrown Lightning, he can have him and baby Charles can have Henry’s. Do you think that sensible, Mama?’
‘Lightning, poppet?’ Lettice gazed over the paddock doubtfully at the two fat, placid Welsh cobs that Thomas led. ‘Is that what you want to call him? Not Neddy or Blackie?’ As she gazed down at her boy, she had to supress a giggle at the contemptuous look in his eyes at her suggestions.
‘Mama, no! Those are names for ordinary horses, dray horses. My horse will be Lightning now, while I am small, but when I am grown, I shall have a black stallion like Alexander and call him Bucephalus. Papa said I might. When I am grown, he said.’
‘Very well, my son. If your father has given you permission for a black stallion called Bucephalus when you are grown, then nothing less than Lightning will do for your first mount, I am certain.’ Lettice struggled to keep her voice level as she spoke, and felt Henry burrow into her neck as her shoulders shook in mirth as if of their own volition. She hugged her grandson to her and swallowed a giggle.
‘So which one is it to be, poppet. Which one of those two fine animals is Lightning?’
Robbie gazed up at his mother as if in amazement at her question, then pointed at the darker of the two ponies, resolutely cropping grass and gazing round disinterestedly at their surroundings as Thomas held firmly to their rein.
‘The one with the blaze of lightning on his nose, Mama. That’s why he has his name.’
Lettice nodded sagely, unable to dispute the logic of a three year old and making a
mental note to relay this hilarious conversation to Robert that evening over supper.
‘The one with the white blaze, Thomas if you please,’ called Lettice and the manservant secured the other pony’s rein to the rail before leading Robbie’s choice to where the little group stood. The pups had come into the stable yard and were chasing and yapping at one another. The ponies blew down their noses and shuffled their hoofs nervously.
‘Hold your hand flat, young Lord.’ Thomas rummaged in his pocket and brought out a small apple, placing it on Robbie’s upturned palm. Lightning blew again down his nose, this time ignoring the yapping pups in his interest in the apple.
‘Now, offer it up and let him take it from you.’
Robbie held his arm as far up as his height allowed, and Lightning bent his head and snuffled the apple from the little boy’s hand, tickling him with wet lips and puffs of breath. Robbie chortled with laughter and Henry took his head from Lettice’s neck long enough to look at the pony and smile.
‘Hoss, Gamama,’ he whispered. Lettice brushed his soft downy cheek with her lips.
‘Yes, poppet, a horse. Robbie’s horse. You will have a horse when you are as big as Robbie. Would you like that?’
‘Ess,’ whispered Henry, as he turned his head onto Lettice’s chest to better see the horses, chewing his thumb as he did so.
‘Would the young Lord like to come and help saddle his new mount?’ asked Thomas flatly, smothering a cough as he spoke, and Lettice beamed at him.
‘Thank you Thomas. I am sure he would love to.’ She looked down to see Robbie nodding and bouncing again as Thomas handed him the pony’s leading rein to hold.
‘I shall have to take Henry inside to Daisy, poppet.’ Robbie wrinkled his nose at his mother and she smothered a smile, ‘then I shall be in the solar when you have finished.’ She sank downwards to Robbie’s level, taking care of the damp toddler in her arms but heedless of her fine silk skirts in the dust. ‘And I shall have sweetmeats,’ she whispered before kissing the end of Robbie’s nose and making him laugh. She rose again and nodded at Thomas, who guided the pony back towards the stable with a firm hand on the bridle as Robbie tugged on the leading rein and began asking about saddles and tack. Thomas nodded his head briefly to her as he walked away, followed by the pups.
‘My Lady.’
***
Robert sipped his ale and gazed round at the gathering in the grand salon of Leicester House. All his family and friends had congregated for the wedding of his stepson to Frances Sidney, although the Queen had cried off at the last moment with a sick headache. Robert wondered to himself if the ruse, and he had no doubt that it was a ruse, was to enable Lettice to attend the marriage of her son, or because Elizabeth didn’t want to witness another of her favourites enter into wedlock. Knowing the Queen as he did, Robert felt the latter reason was the most likely.
Hundreds of wax candles glimmered and gleamed in the chandeliers and on the walls throughout the mansion, lighting the jewels on the gowns and the daggers into thousands more points of coloured light. Robert watched with smiling eyes as his beautiful wife spoke to their guests, moving from group to group laughing and chattering gaily. Lettice was clad in an embroidered gown of green watermark silk that shone and shimmered with every movement. The golden tracery of flowers and leaves over her gown was echoed in the emeralds and pearls at her throat and twisted into her copper hair. Robert thought how much enjoyment he would get taking them out of her hair at the end of the evening, and he swallowed a mouthful of ale to distract him from continuing with that image.
‘A lovely wedding, Rob.’ His sister Mary’s voice brought him out of his reverie and he gazed down into her sorrowful face, noting that her eyes were filmed with tears.
‘Is it difficult for you, sis? Seeing your daughter-in-law marry again?’ Mary shook her head and swallowed.
‘Not really, Rob. Frances is very young to be a widow, and she is the only bargaining chip Walsingham has for gaining true nobility. It was only a matter of time before he put her back into play.’ She snorted contemptuously into her wine cup.
‘He’ll be pleased now she’s the Countess of Essex instead of merely Lady Sidney. And if God grants him a grandson, the nobility of line he has bought and paid for will be assured.’ Mary shook her head sadly, then blinked away her tears and smiled up at her brother.
‘Do not worry, brother. I have Philip’s daughter to raise, part of him to love at least. Frances is quite happy that she stays with us.’ Mary nodded across to another knot of ladies gossiping and watching the dancing through the double doors. ‘How is Nell these days?’
‘Better, I think. She hopes for a daughter this time, but she is taking more interest in her sons now. Lady Meg helps Lily with them, and says they are improving all the time. Of course, Lily loves being surrounded by children so she is looking forward to Nell’s child, and well as Thea’s and Tom Sadler’s.’
‘Tell her I shall bring little Lizzie to see her soon, Rob. The little one could do with being around children of her own age.’ Mary patted her brother’s arm affectionately before wandering off to speak to other guests of her acquaintance.
Robert let his gaze find Lettice again, laughing with Kit, Nell and her sister Beth, all making quick glances at the dancers before huddling their heads together and shrieking with laughter. As she looked up, she caught his gaze and she beamed one of her wonderful smiles at him, with such a knowing look in her eyes that he burst into laughter and had to smother his amusement in his ale cup.
He watched as she patted Kit briefly and made her way across the room towards him, eyes never leaving his as she reached him and stood on the tips of her toes to kiss his lips briefly.
‘Hello, Robin,’ she beamed as he stole his arm around her waist and gathered her into his side as best he could with the width of hoop beneath her skirt. He growled in his throat.
‘Your skirt should be narrower, my love. It feels like you are at the other end of the hall.’
‘Lord Robert,’ Lettice’s laughing voice took on a mockingly scandalised tone, ‘this is the height of fashion. My dressmaker tells me it is the exact width all the grand ladies of the court wear, after the fashion set by Her Majesty.’ Her voice dropped to a whisper at the final words and she dipped a sarcastic curtsey which caused Robert to laugh out loud at the mischief in her eyes.
‘I’d rather you were in my arms, my love, than suffer at the whim of fashion.’
She slid her eyes sideways to his and whispered up into his ear, ‘I shall be in my shift later, my Lord, and hopefully also in your arms?’ Robert growled again and she giggled slightly, bouncing on her toes.
‘Frances looks happy, Robin. Don’t you think so?’ They both glanced across at the newly-weds who were leading a line of dancers, laughing and smiling at one another.
‘She does, Lily. As does Essex.’ Robert sipped again from his ale and lowered his voice, ‘God knows he ought to be with the dowry and extras Walsingham has paid.’
Lettice’s brow creased in puzzlement. ‘Extra to the dowry, Robin? Why has he done that?’
Robert snorted a brief laugh, ‘Because my brother-in-law Harry drives a hard bargain, my love. He wasn’t going to barter the nobility of Essex for a pittance. Not only did he negotiate an enormous dowry, he also agreed an arrangement for Walsingham to pay all Essex’s gambling debts before he signed the marriage contract. What with his expenses for Philip’s funeral, this has almost bankrupted him.’ Robert’s shoulders were shaking with mirth at the discomfiture of the man who had always despised him for his closeness to the Queen. Lettice nudged him with her shoulder.
‘Robin, be decorous, I beg you. We should not take pleasure in another’s financial misfortune.’
�
��Then you take pleasure in their happiness, Lily, and I’ll take solitary pleasure in Walsingham’s misfortune.’ He chuckled again as he sipped his ale, and Lettice swatted his arm as she disentangled herself from his embrace and began her progress among her guests once more.
***
Sitting beneath the canopy of trees, Lettice, Nell and the girls were busy with their sewing, painstakingly making tiny gowns for Ursula and Nell’s babes, both due very soon, whilst Lettice stitched a new doublet for Robbie and Jane embroidered the edges of a quilt with tiny birds and flowers.
Thomas was teaching Robbie, seated on Lightning, how to grip with his thighs and control the horse’s motion with his heels. Henry was outside the fenced-in paddock playing with his toy soldiers and giggling every time one of the pups snuffled his ears. The sun was bright but it wasn’t too hot, and the kitchen cat dozed in the beams of light beating down on the herb garden, opening one bright green eye to watch the sparrows enjoying a dust bath in front of the stable door and twitching its tail.
The cat wasn’t the only animal to have noticed the noisy sparrows, and the pups trotted round the fence to see what the squabbling birds were up to. The cat decided to investigate for herself, springing towards the birds with claws extended just as Storm and Snowy began barking loudly. The ensuing conflict between dogs and cat and birds spilled under the fence rail and startled the horse briefly. Thomas felt the violent tug on the lead rein but couldn’t reach the horse’s bridle in time.
At the sudden cacophony of noise and the grunt from Thomas, Lettice glanced up from her sewing. She heard a high thin squeal, then jumped to her feet when she heard the sickening thud of her son’s tiny body on the ground. Grabbing her skirts in her hand above her knees, she raced into the paddock.
Lettice reached him and gathered him in her arms, closely followed by Jane and Ursula, their gowns pooling round them in the dust. Robbie’s eyes slowly opened and he gazed at Lettice.
On the Altar of England (Tudor Chronicles Book 4) Page 32