The Betrayal

by Mary Hooper

  Entering the square which fronted the palace (ablaze with light, with much happening and many people coming and going) the litter-bearer deposited me at the fountain, where waited Tomas. He was dressed in what, for him, must have been conventional mode: as court jester, wearing a patchwork coat with bells along the hem and at the elbows, and breeches having one leg of green and one of red. His deep hood extended into a cape over his shoulders and this too was decorated with bells, so that a-jingling and a-jangling accompanied his every movement.

  The bearers lowered my litter to the floor and I stepped out, whereupon Tomas smiled, bowed over my hand and kissed it as if I were a lady.

  ‘I thank you kindly,’ I said. I gave a low curtsey, now wishing most desperately that I’d been able to wear a gown which was more costly, more fashionable, more enticing than this, which I’d worn a dozen times before. But Tomas did not seem to notice my gown, and indeed was smiling at me very warmly indeed.

  ‘Did you enjoy your journey?’ he asked.

  ‘Very much! ’Tis the first time I’ve travelled so. But mostly, before we set out, I enjoyed seeing the face of Mr Kelly when he realised that the litter was meant for me!’

  Tomas laughed and offered me his arm, and we began to walk across the square. ‘I realised I’d given you neither time nor destination,’ he said, ‘so thought it appropriate to send for you.’

  ‘Then I’m very much obliged for your consideration.’

  These little formalities over, I asked of the whereabouts of Mistress Juliette and whether or not she’d been apprehended. I was told that she had not – not yet.

  ‘Then might she still be a danger to the queen?’ I asked somewhat anxiously.

  ‘Nay! She is a marked woman.’ Tomas was carrying a jester’s stick with a doll-head at the end and waved it aloft, bells jangling. ‘She has as much power as this poppet!’

  Satisfied with this, I sought to find out more about the evening ahead, asking him what might happen and what was its purpose.

  ‘’Tis merely one of the entertainments that the queen so loves to give from time to time,’ he answered with a shrug. ‘Mostly these are held to impress her foreign suitors and visiting ambassadors. There are many such in England at the moment.’

  ‘And what form will the evening take?’

  ‘There will be some dancing by the maids of honour, and a masque and some other diversions – including a fire-eater and fireworks at the festivities’ end.’

  I gasped, delighted.

  ‘At some stage I believe the queen will ask to meet you – and I believe may present you with a mark of her appreciation.’

  I stopped walking, all the more to savour the notion that I was to be presented to the queen. ‘What sort of a mark?’ I could not resist asking.

  He shrugged. ‘Perhaps a ring or brooch bearing her insignia. Mayhap it will replace the lost groat in your affections.’

  ‘Oh, it will!’ I said, and fell into a happy reverie about wearing this pretty piece of jewellery and, on it being admired, being able to give its provenance.

  We walked on, but did not proceed into the palace itself, but went through the orchard and across the tilt yard. Ahead of us was a vast edifice of white canvas and silvery oak attached to a palace wall. I was very amazed at seeing it, for the material was such that the whole structure seemed to glow from within.

  ‘Is this the new banqueting hall?’ I asked.

  Tomas nodded. ‘’Twas built to remain just a few months, but the queen is so enamoured of it that I believe it may stay longer.’

  We entered and I saw that the exterior glow came from the many burners, torches and candles placed within which gleamed through the fabric. Grasses and herbs grew underfoot and these, being bruised as they were walked upon, released their fragrance into the air. There were living trees within the structure, vast swags of sweet-smelling flowers intermixed with green vines, and vases containing branches of pink and white blossom, so that the whole effect was one of extreme beauty.

  ‘’Tis all most wonderful!’ I said, gazing about me. ‘And difficult to know whether we are inside or out.’

  Tomas nodded. ‘That is just what the queen wanted.’

  To one side of the hall, long tables had been erected, and these were filled with all manner of sweetmeats in glass and silver dishes. On the centre table stood the queen’s arms in sugarwork and, displayed beneath, spun-sugar nests filled with nuts and fruit, crystallised rose petals and frosted herb leaves. Each of the other tables was headed by one of the queen’s beasts, also in sugarwork, and spun nests filled with a different form of confectionery: marchpane cakes, jellies, fruit in aspic, orange suckets, cinnamon comfits and the like. I could have stood there for an age staring at this display of wonders, for every type of delightful confection was there.

  At one end of the structure some musicians were playing and a small stage had been erected. This was fronted by three rows of seats and a gilded throne. Looking about, I realised I need not have worried about the comparative drabness of my gown, for those assembled there took not the slightest notice of me. Some people acknowledged Tomas with a nod, but then, their eyes passing on to see who accompanied him, slid over me and away, as if they could discern immediately that I was a nobody. If only, the thought suddenly hit me, I’d had the wit to ask Mistress Hunt if I could borrow the gown of Mistress Mistletoe! Then I might have merited more than a cursory glance.

  Tomas came and went from my side as his various responsibilities dictated, but I didn’t mind this in the least, for being in the background gave me leave to gaze on and marvel at the variety of the exquisite gowns around me. I saw gold, magenta, scarlet, ivory, azure, vermilion and daffy-dill yellow at a glance, and sapphire, jade, lilac, silver and petal-pink at another – and all these gowns bejewelled and embroidered to the most marvellous degree. The gentlemen were no less finely clad, and these glittering creatures approached and greeted each other effusively, with much bowing and curtseying, fan-fluttering and hat-flourishing, like wonderful butterflies or other exotic specimens of nature.

  When the hall was full of people the Lord Chamberlain came upon the stage and asked those gathered to prepare to take the blessing of their sovereign lady Queen Elizabeth, which caused a great stir and made us, as one, sink into our deepest curtseys or bow very low from the waist. A fanfare of trumpets sounded and an instant later I knew that Her Grace had entered the hall, for the very air about us became charged and vibrant.

  The queen was accompanied by a body of finely dressed courtiers, and as she walked she blessed those she passed, smiling to each side and greeting those recognised by her. As she moved through a section of the hall, the people there rose and began to cheer and applaud, so that by the time she took her throne at the front of the stage the whole place was ringing with the heartfelt approbation of her subjects. This not dying down, she rose from her seat and, taking to the stage, thanked us all heartily, saying, ‘The well-being of my people is the chiefest thing in the world that I do pray for’, which made everyone cheer anew. I now moved to take a better position from which to see her and admire her gown. This was the most wonderful creation of silver and white tulle, with an immense ruff of silver lace spread like wings behind her head, decorated with rubies hanging as thickly as cherries from a tree in spring.

  The audience becoming quiet, she regained her seat before the stage, and the courtiers she’d arrived with sat down. A small masque commenced, which – now that I’d seen for myself the cleverness and sophistication of the Queen’s Players – I fear did not hold my attention greatly. While this was playing, therefore, I amused myself by discerning numerous flirtations between the elegant ladies and distinguished gentlemen around me.

  When the masque finished, there was a display of country dancing by children, and then a pretty dance with ribbands given by some of the Court ladies, who stepped and twisted in and out of each other to make a pattern with their differently coloured strands. It was after this, Tomas had alread
y informed me, that the queen was firstly going to take refreshment from the displays of sweetmeats, and then walk about the hall meeting some of her people – myself included. I began to feel nervous, wondering what she might say to me and what I would reply.

  The dance ended, the music ceased – and just at that split second of silence, where one has to make quite sure that everything has really come to a close before applauding – there came sounds outside of horses galloping and being reined in, followed by some shouts from the queen’s guards. Applause for the dance began but was half-hearted, for everyone was wondering what had caused the disturbance. An instant later we found it out, for the canvas doors swung open and a black-coated messenger ran in: hatless, breathless, his face and clothes spattered with mud. Two of the gentlemen closest to the door seemed to protest at this intrusion and rose as if they would catch hold of him, but, evading them, he ran to the queen and knelt low before her, holding up a rolled parchment.

  The hall was now absolutely silent and every eye was on the queen. I glanced at Tomas standing at the side of the stage, his jester’s colours giving the lie to his pallid face. The queen took off the seal, unrolled the parchment and, frowning, read what was written there. She gave a loud scream (of fury, some said, while others said of fear) and immediately hurried from the hall, followed at once by her maids of honour and some of the gentlemen.

  She left behind consternation and anxiety, and rumours began to run through the hall like a summer fire over a heath: war has been declared on us by France … by Spain … by the Low Countries; a great plague is on its way; a comet has been seen in the sky foretelling fire; Hampton Court Palace has burned to the ground …

  The messenger (whom the queen had left prostrate on the floor) picked himself up and was immediately seized by those of the queen’s councillors who’d stayed behind. Two of his riding companions entered, and were similarly taken. A few moments later, someone (I did not know his name, but took him to be a dignitary by his chains of office) stepped on to the low stage and lifted his hands for silence. The hall was at peace within seconds.

  ‘Her Grace has been very much disturbed by some news that has just arrived from Fotheringay,’ he said.

  Immediately an undercurrent of whispers ran around the hall: ‘Fotheringay … Mary, Queen of Scots … ’

  He asked for silence again. ‘I must tell you that this morning, in the great hall of Fotheringay, the Queen of Scotland was put to death by the axe.’

  There was an intake of breath from everyone in the hall.

  ‘Long live the queen!’ cried the speaker, and this sentiment was echoed in shocked voices by us all.

  While we were all gathering our wits, a set of church bells began to ring out a celebratory peal. This was followed by others, so that within a few minutes our ears were beset by the pealing of bells right across the city. I looked for Tomas to ask what it all meant and what I should do, but he’d disappeared.

  It was over an hour later before I found out more. After waiting in the hall feeling very out of place, I’d actually begun the journey home, terribly disappointed that I’d not been presented to Her Grace and, if the truth be told, wondering if my token of her appreciation might be quite lost to me now. My mind a tangle of questions, I’d walked as far as the Fleet and was about to cross it when I decided that I simply could not go on without speaking to someone and finding out exactly what had occurred, why the queen was so upset and what it all might mean for the country.

  And so I turned back and came again to Whitehall Palace, this time not going to the banqueting hall, but rather to where I knew every scrap, every latest piece of news would be circulating: the servants’ quarters. More particularly, I went towards the royal laundry and, saying once again I was Barbara’s sister, gained entry.

  Barbara was sitting with three other girls in the starching room and welcomed me in a very friendly manner. As I’d supposed, no one was a-bed, and little groups of servants were gathered, talking of the event in excited whispers. As each new piece of information arrived (from someone who knew a footman, was walking out with an equerry, or was the sister of one of the queen’s night-servants) it was seized upon, marvelled at and duly passed around. Barbara’s welcome to me became even warmer when she realised that I’d been in the hall at the time of the messenger’s arrival and could provide first-hand information. When I’d satisfied everyone’s curiosity as to the manner and demeanour of both the queen, the messenger and those about them, I asked why they thought the queen had screamed out so.

  ‘Because she’s furious!’ Barbara answered straight.

  I shook my head, still bewildered. ‘But why?’

  ‘Well, although she’d signed the death warrant, she didn’t expect it to be used.’

  ‘At least not straight away,’ another girl added. ‘She thought the matter would go again before her ministers.’

  ‘She doesn’t want the blood of an anointed queen on her hands,’ continued Barbara.

  ‘And now she’s distraught! Her ladies are still with her … She’s screaming and no one can calm her. She’s blaming her ministers for forcing her to sign.’

  ‘She says she never wished Mary put to death!’ Barbara added.

  I looked from one to the other of them. ‘But … well, ’tis done now,’ I said, shrugging.

  ‘Aye,’ Barbara said, ‘and the whole country rejoices for it.’

  ‘We are all free of the fear of Catholic rule!’ said her friend.

  ’Twas a strange situation, I thought. The queen was upstairs in her palace, raging and sobbing by turns at the news (or so they said), while, below, we celebrated the very thing that she was so concerned about.

  I stayed with Barbara and her friends a good while, for no one seemed inclined to go to their bed. Someone lit a bonfire in the courtyard and the servants gathered around it, while a youth from the brewhouse brought ale to drink, and there was even dancing. ‘Her Grace is safe!’ people cried. ‘Long live our beloved queen!’

  After a glass of ale I began to feel very tired and, although there was still much laughter and gaiety, with church bells continuing to be rung across the city, thought to leave. Before I went, though, there was something I had to tell Barbara. I took her to one side, saying I wished to speak about my brother.

  ‘You do?’ I could not mistake the eagerness in her face. ‘When might he be coming to see me?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m afraid … not for many a long day.’

  She frowned. ‘Has he gone from London, then?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking, yes, he has. He … he will come no more.’ This was true, of course, because from now on, I’d have no time for acting with the players.

  ‘He’s dead ?’ she asked, shocked.

  ‘No! Not that. He …’ I bit my lip and tried again. ‘You know I have undertaken some tasks for the queen’s fool – a little spying work?’

  She nodded, frowning.

  ‘Well, I’m most sorry to tell you this, but part of this work required me to be disguised as a boy.’

  ‘You dressed as a boy?’ she repeated, perplexed.

  I nodded. ‘I, in fact, am my brother. We are one and the same person.’ She still looked puzzled, so I added, ‘There is no brother, only me.’

  ‘Oh!’ She suddenly blushed scarlet. ‘But you … but I …’

  ‘I am most truly sorry,’ I said. ‘I didn’t mean to deceive you, merely sought you out as a friend. And then found it difficult to admit the truth because you … you …’ my voice trailed away.

  She didn’t speak for some moments, then gave a small smile. ‘’Tis of no matter,’ she said, ‘for I have been exchanging smiles with a new ’prentice button-maker, and think he may ask me to go a-walking with him soon.’

  ‘Then I’m very pleased for you,’ I said, though I didn’t know whether she’d spoken truly, or had just invented this button-maker to save face. We parted on very good terms, though, and said we’d see each other soon. Weary by then, I set o
ff towards Green Lane, hoping that by the time I got as far as Ludgate it would be nigh on dawn and I’d be allowed into the city. Then it would just remain for me to face Mr Kelly and Dr Dee.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I left the confines of the palace, crossed the Strand and went homewards, taking a shortcut down a narrow, dark passageway. Hearing a horse’s hooves clattering on the cobbles behind me, I moved out of the way to allow it space, but to my surprise it was reined in. The rider jumped down and, to his credit, didn’t seek to play a joke on me as he’d done so often before, but spoke out quickly.

  ‘Lucy! Don’t be alarmed. ’Tis only me.’

  ‘Tomas!’ I turned, most surprised. He was no longer dressed as a jester, but garbed much more soberly now, in dark suit and black cape with a hood. ‘How did you find me?’

  He smiled wryly. ‘The whole of Whitehall Palace seems to be up and dancing a jig, and I had a hunch you wouldn’t have gone home. I enquired in the laundries, and your friend Mistress Barbara said I’d just missed you. I thought to catch you at the city gates.’

  ‘I’m happy you did,’ I said. ‘How was Her Grace when you left?’

  ‘Still much out of sorts. First weeping, then angry, then sad, then weeping again. And no one can say anything to help or console her, for she has a ready answer each time. Even though …’

  He hesitated and I prompted, ‘Even though?’

  ‘Even though she knows her life would never have been safe with the Scottish queen alive, and plots and counter-plots being discovered at every turn. Why, I attended Her Grace only last week and spent an hour trying to amuse her, but the whole time she sat staring into the distance, saying, “Strike, or be struck … which shall it be? ” It was a matter that was much on her mind.’