On the Altar of England (Tudor Chronicles Book 4)

by Lesley Jepson

  ‘Letty, my love.’

  She beamed a smile at him in delight and kissed his nose, making him growl.

  ‘My own Sir Kytt.’ she dimpled, as he claimed her lips in a passionate kiss, tasting her mouth and nipping her lips gently. Outside, Lettice could hear, over the pounding of her heart, thunderous hoofs as a single horse clattered into the yard. Then she heard the slam of a door and thumping steps running up the stairs. Kytt leaped from the bed, grabbing his dagger and standing at the door, completely naked. Lettice thought he looked like one of the ancient Gods or warriors, Achilles or Perseus, his body muscled and golden in the morning light.

  ‘Kytt, you are not from Sparta. You cannot fight naked. Put a robe on at least.’ Lettice’s amused voice made him realise his state of undress, and he dragged his robe over his shoulders and fastened a few buttons to keep his modesty.

  The thundering steps were getting nearer, then a deafening pounding on the next door along, Lettice’s room.

  ‘Mother, it’s me,’ Nell’s voice was loud and urgent, ‘You must come at once.’

  Kytt snatched his door open and put his head round the jamb.

  ‘Your mother is in here, Nell.’ Nell scurried into the room, stopping abruptly as she saw her mother’s naked shoulders brimming over the coverlet. She blinked, and Lettice smiled kindly.

  ‘What has you so upset, poppet. Why must I come?’

  ‘Essex has almost drawn his dagger on the Queen and Cecil, and now he has fled. Mountjoy has told me he is mustering some of his friends to try and oust Cecil from office. They may come back into London and try and attack the Queen and I don’t know what to do.’ Her voice was rising with hysteria and Lettice grasped the sheet and swathed it round her body, moving across to her distraught daughter.

  She noticed that Kytt had gone into the adjoining dressing room, and wasn’t surprised to see him emerge almost immediately dressed in one of his working outfits of leather breeches and doublet, with serviceable tall boots and a sturdy dagger.

  ‘I’ll go and find him, Letty. Calm him down and stop his foolishness.’

  Lettice sat Nell down on the chest at the bottom of the bed and moved towards Kytt, dragging the sheet with her. She stood on tiptoe and kissed his lips, and his arms enfolded her as he kissed her properly, with all their newly kindled passion.

  ‘Wait here, and I’ll bring him back. I’ll stop and ask Tom or Dickon to find out what has happened, and send them to you.’ He kissed her gently on her lips and rested his head on her forehead.

  ‘I’ll be back in no time, Letty, I promise. Don’t worry. I know how to calm him.’ Lettice nodded against him.

  ‘Be careful, Kytt. And come back soon.’ She kissed him briefly again before dropping on to the flat of her feet and watching him go through the chamber door into the corridor. Before he closed the door after himself, he blew her a kiss and winked, and she dimpled at him.

  ‘Mother, he’s insane. Essex, I mean. To draw his dagger, what was he thinking?’

  ‘He wouldn’t have been thinking, poppet. He would have been reacting to whatever was going on in his head. I just hope Kytt can talk him round before he gets into any real trouble.’

  Nell shook her head sadly. ‘This is real trouble, Mother. And I don’t know what will happen now.’

  ***

  Kytt rode through the streets, looking for the turning to the tavern that Essex and his companions favoured. It was in the rougher part of the city, where the idle young noblemen could fight and gamble and whore to their heart’s content, away from the scrutiny of the court. Kytt had brought Essex home much the worse for wear from these adventures on many occasions, and he knew this would be where Essex would repair to regroup and decide what to do next.

  He trotted his horse into the tavern yard and threw the rein at the lad as he dismounted. Inside the stable, he could see the horse Essex currently favoured, as well as several more fine mounts. Too fine for the tavern’s normal clientele, he thought.

  He entered the dark cavern of a room, and the barman looked at him, taking in his fine leather garments, and his beautifully chased sword. He jerked his head towards the back of the room.

  ‘The lords are in the back room, my Lord.’ Kytt nodded and strode through the gloom, ignoring the looks he was receiving from the seated patrons as well as the bright smile from the serving girl as he stepped round her through the small door in the wall. Seated round the table were Essex and his usual friends, Mountjoy, de Vere, de Burgh and to Kytt’s surprise, the Earl of Southampton and a man whose name he knew simply as Lee.

  ‘My Lord Essex,’ Kytt bowed and Essex grinned up at him from his seat at the table.

  ‘Kytt. So glad you have chosen to join us. We are just making a new plan.’

  Kytt gazed at the assembled company, taking in the enthusiasm of Southampton, Lee and de Vere as well as the look of doubt in the eyes of Mountjoy and de Burgh. It was not a united band, he thought to himself. Essex bounded to his feet and threw his arm about Kytt’s shoulder as he used to do when they were youths.

  ‘Come, Sir Kytt. We ride on London. We shall force that dwarf Cecil to step down, and we shall make the Queen name her successor and abdicate in favour of a youthful monarch.’ Essex strode from the room, still clasping Kytt’s shoulders and followed by his colleagues.

  ‘My Lord,’ Kytt moved his shoulders as subtly as he could to dislodge Essex’s grip, ‘you cannot attack the Queen. That would be treason.’

  Essex snorted derisively. ‘She is an old woman, Kytt. She won’t last much longer in any case.’ He put his lips to Kytt’s ear as he made to take his horse, ‘I have seen her, Kytt. She is a hag, not long for this world.’ He moved away and mounted his horse, continuing more loudly, ‘We must bring James from Scotland, and have a strong, youthful King for our country.’

  Some of his comrades grunted assent as they mounted their own horses and turned their heads towards the centre of London, and Kytt scrambled to mount his own horse and keep up. Trotting up to the side of Essex, Kytt called across urgently, ‘My Lord, you mustn’t do this thing. You are inviting danger, not just on you, but upon your family.’

  Essex looked at him contemptuously. ‘My family, Kytt? They hate me. They steal my friends, so I am alone in the world. I have no family, Kytt. No-one to love me. No-one to put me first. So I will bring the people a new King, and he, and the country, will be grateful.’

  Kytt shook his head in denial at Essex’s words, but the young nobleman had ridden ahead and Kytt knew words were useless. Kytt looked beyond where Essex rode, and realised the road was blocked, and there were troops behind the blockade. He shouted a warning to Essex, then tried to call to the troops not to fire. Looking behind him, he saw only de Vere, Southampton and Lee were still with them, and he wondered if de Burgh and Mountjoy had noticed the blockade before he had and they had turned into one of the many alleys or side streets they had passed.

  He kicked his horse into a canter to try and reach Essex, who was beginning to draw his sword as he rode towards the blockade. Kytt screamed at Essex to halt, and then at the troops not to shoot, but the noise of the horses hoofs drowned out his words.

  Suddenly he heard a tremendous crash, and felt a searing pain in his face. He knew he was falling from his horse, but after the crunch of the fall, everything went black, and he felt and saw nothing else.

  Chapter 60

  ettice glided into the Palace of Westminster on the arm of her brother Ed, flanked by Tom and Dickon. Her gown was the one Robert had bought for her to have her portrait painted, a rich cream and black silk damask, embroidered with gold thread and with an enormous matching mantle and sleeves, also figured in gold. Her ruff was high, and her hair was perfectly coiffed and d
ressed.

  Ed was attired in pewter velvet, bejewelled in the latest fashion, making him look large and imposing as he towered over his tiny sister, leading her along the galleries. Tom and Dickon had chosen to clothe themselves in their lord’s leathers, tight black leather breeches and studded doublets, with white shirts and ruffs. Their swords slapped the tops of their boots, and not only did they have their ceremonial daggers at their sides, but Lettice had noticed they had small silver blades in scabbards at the small of their backs. The words drifted dimly though her mind, ‘Only sassins wear daggers at their backs, Mama.’ She pressed her lips together firmly. It would not surprise her if they even had blades concealed in their boots today.

  Nodding to the people who spoke to her, but not faltering in her stride, she walked down the galleries to the office of Robert Cecil, and waited while Ed thrust open the door. Robert Cecil struggled to his feet and made a small bow.

  ‘Countess, I did not expect to see you today.’ His brows rose at the sight of Lettice, escorted by Ed and flanked by what looked like personal guards.

  ‘Really, my Lord? Then when did you expect to see me, pray? After you have killed my husband and my son?’ Lettice raised her brows questioningly. ‘I know the Queen is at Hampton Court, so I am not breaking the banishment, but I must speak with you. Appeal for mercy.’

  Cecil shook his head and gazed at her sadly, while keeping nervous eye on her escorts.

  ‘My Lady, it is out of my hands. Your son tried to lead a rebellion against the Queen, and your husband helped.’

  Lettice drew herself upwards and glared at Cecil. With every ounce of her Howard blood evident in her voice, she answered hotly, ‘That is a lie, my Lord. My husband tried to stop him.’

  Cecil dropped his gaze at the fire in her eyes and thought for a while before answering. He shook his head again.

  ‘That isn’t the story your son tells me, my Lady. He has named many of his co-conspirators, chiefly your daughter Lady Riche, and the man who Essex asserts is her lover, Lord Mountjoy.’

  Lettice’s hand flew to her throat, that Essex would try and implicate Nell, and announce to the world that she had a lover. She felt tears prick at her eyes at the level of malevolence her son was showing, and had to drag her mind back to hear Cecil speak.

  ‘The Queen is choosing to be merciful, my Lady. Only your husband and son are to be held to account, and she has granted them a noble death, not one for a traitor.’

  Lettice knew that this meant the block, rather than the hanging, disembowelling and quartering that traitors usually suffered. A small part of her felt relieved. Cecil continued to speak, and Lettice tried to quiet the buzzing in her head to listen to him.

  ‘She isn’t going to pursue anyone else, despite the accusations against your daughter and her….and the others. And she will allow your grandchild to inherit the title without attainder.’

  Lettice gazed at him for a long moment, until he began to run his finger around the edge of his ruff where it met his neck and puff out his breath in quiet huffs under her scrutiny. Ed, Tom and Dickon stood straight, silent and unblinking against the wall, and Cecil shot them surreptitious looks as he sweated under Lettice’s examination.

  ‘Am I allowed to visit them, my Lord?’ Cecil visibly jumped when Lettice spoke and he hurriedly turned his gaze back to her.

  ‘I could possibly grant you an hour, my lady. To see both your son and your husband.’

  Lettice inclined her head slightly, keeping her hands gripped tightly together. She took a breath and swallowed, forming her thoughts. She knew there would be no possibility of an appeal against the sentences. Elizabeth would not countenance any request for forgiveness, particularly one from her. She turned her gaze on Cecil.

  ‘How long before they…. I mean, how long before the sentence is put into effect, my Lord?’

  Cecil again ran his finger round his collar and looked at Lettice uncomfortably.

  ‘Five days, my Lady.’

  Lettice dragged a sharp breath and heard the same from Ed, covered by a brief cough that sounded like a gunshot in the quiet room. She blinked and nodded.

  ‘Very well, my Lord. Might I bring clean linens for them? Things they might need?’

  ‘Of course, my Lady. But I must tell you that your husband has sustained a severe injury. We have had him seen by an apothecary and he is as comfortable as we can make him.’

  Lettice felt herself begin to quiver inside, and she closed her eyes briefly. Behind her, she felt the air move and then Ed was beside her, placing her hand back on his arm and keeping it covered, pressing her fingers into the velvet of his sleeve with his huge hand. She took another shuddering breath and found her voice, sharp with urgency.

  ‘An apothecary, my Lord? Why not a physician?’

  Cecil sighed and looked about him again, trying to choose his words to cause the least distress. He swallowed hard and gazed at Lettice, softening his gaze.

  ‘He has sustained quite a severe wound to the cheek, my Lady. And the fall from his horse has shattered his thigh, we think. The physician said there was little he could do to help, but that an apothecary would be able to control the pain.’ He stopped as he heard Lettice gasp, then carried on quickly to reassure her. ‘He is in no pain, my Lady, I swear it.’ Lettice nodded, gripping Ed’s arm through his velvet sleeve to stop herself from trembling and to keep herself upright.

  ‘The sentence will be carried out in private, my Lady, and you will not be allowed to attend. When you see them, you will need to say your farewell.’

  Lettice pressed her mouth together in a firm line, closing her eyes again as if in pain. She huffed a breath out and nodded briefly.

  ‘I understand, my Lord.’ She held out her hand and smiled thinly, ‘Thank you for seeing me.’

  ‘It was the least I could do, my Lady. Your husband, I mean your previous husband, was always kind to me, even when others were less so and despite the animosity shown towards him by my father. Lord Robert was a generous, compassionate gentleman, my Lady and the country misses him.’

  The small, ill-formed man bent and kissed her knuckles respectfully.

  ‘Good day, Countess.’

  Lettice turned and beamed one of her delicious smiles, and Robert Cecil stepped back slightly and blinked in surprise.

  ‘No, my Lord. You are mistaken. Today I am not the Countess. Today, my Lord, I am Lady Blount.’

  ***

  The following day Lettice stood at the gatehouse to the Tower, gazing up at the huge edifice and swallowing hard. Ed stood by her side, and again Tom and Dickon were at her back, each of them carrying a large leather bag.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go in, Letty?’ Ed’s normally loud voice was more hushed than she had ever heard it, and she smiled at him wanly.

  ‘I’m sure I would rather never have to go in, Ed. But I must. I have to say goodbye to my son and my husband, then find a way to leave them here while I go on.’

  She shuddered a breath and blinked tears away. Abruptly she stepped forward and Ed hurried to keep up with her determined stride. He placed her hand firmly on his arm, and together they spoke to the guard and were admitted into the Tower and taken to the apartments occupied by Essex.

  Lettice took the bag from Tom and twisted the latch of the door, stepping inside quietly. She looked round at the small room, with the bed pushed into the corner, and a small table under the window containing writing materials and stacked with books. A fire burned in the grate and Essex was seated in one of the chairs by the hearth. He looked up and smiled excitedly, striding towards her and taking her hands.

  ‘Mother, how lovely to see you.’ He bent and kissed her cheek, and led her to th
e chair, taking his seat opposite. Lettice swallowed and forced words from her lips.

  ‘My son. How are you?’

  Essex snorted and waved his hand around the room, and as Lettice’s eyes accustomed themselves to the gloom of the stone walls and tiny window, she realised that these were the apartments to which her mother had brought her, many years ago when they came to see Norfolk. She closed her eyes again and swallowed. She felt Essex take the bag from her, and she watched him open it eagerly.

  ‘What have you brought me, Mother? Have you brought me my silk shirt for the sentence?’ Essex rummaged in the bottom of the bag as he spoke, firing rapid questions at her and not waiting for the answer. ‘Is Frances to be allowed to see me? I’d rather she didn’t, to be honest. I never know what to say to her, and she would probably weep.’

  Lettice took a deep breath and found her voice.

  ‘I have brought your silk shirt, and fresh linens for the next few days, and a package of sweetmeats and some good wine. Frances is too distraught to come to the Tower, but she sends her love and her blessing.’ Lettice looked into the flames and pressed her lips together to stop her thoughts escaping. In her mind’s eye she saw the letter.

  Dear Countess, by the time you read this, I shall be in Anglesey with de Burgh, awaiting passage to Ireland. I am carrying his child, and would be wed before the child is born. When my widowhood is confirmed, we intend to marry.

  I am sorry I must convey this in a letter, but I did not have the courage to ask you, in the face of your current travails. I charge you with the care of my children. My son has always been your lovely boy far more than he was ever mine, and I trust you will raise him to be a gracious and noble 3rd Earl. My daughter is your grandchild, and I am confident you will treat her well. Forgive my cowardice. I am not made of such courage as you. I wish you well, and my children happy. Frances

  When she was sure her voice would remain firm, she looked back at Essex, happily biting a sweetmeat as he poured himself a cup of the wine she had brought.