The Tudor Vendetta (31 page)

*   *   *

A few days later, I could finally sit upright. I was in a chamber in the palace, with walnut-paneled walls and a mullioned bay. Kate came and went, tending to me, sitting on a stool at my side and patiently unwinding the soiled bandages on my shoulder to check the tender wound. I winced as she applied her homemade herbal salve, less at its acrid smell than the burn it caused.

“I know it hurts,” she said. “But you narrowly escaped corruption setting in. The wound cut almost to the bone. We thought you would die from the fever. You must let it heal, Brendan. You have to endure it. You want to keep use of your sword arm, don’t you?”

I had to chuckle, though any movement made me want to shout in pain. She went quiet, replacing the bandage with her eyes averted.

“Kate,” I said.

She paused. When she eventually lifted her gaze, it was somber. “No,” she said. “I don’t need to hear it. I … I do not want to know. It is over. You saved the queen once again.”

“But I must tell you.” I reached for her hand, holding it fast. “I made a mistake. I … I am the reason this happened. But I never loved her, not as I love you. Something else drove me; desire, yes, but also hatred. So much hatred. She showed me a vision of who I might be, if I ever allowed myself. She made me almost think that I…” My voice faded into silence. “I would have sooner died than hurt you,” I whispered. “You must know that.”

She did not speak, looking down at our entwined fingers.

“I should have told you,” I went on. “I lied to you. I know you can never forgive me, but I … I regret it. All of it. I love you. I always will, no matter what.”

When she finally looked up, her eyes shone with tears. In a quavering voice, she said, “I know that.” She withdrew her hand, stood, and took the pile of reeking bandages heaped in a basin by the bedside. “I forgive you,” she said and she turned heel, before I could speak again.

It took weeks before I could stand, and when I did, I swayed like a newborn foal, weak and ungainly, struggling to get my bearings. I persisted nevertheless, walking a little more each day, and soon I managed to tread across the room and back, albeit with a stiffness that Elizabeth’s personal physician, Dr. Butts, assured me would ebb in time.

“You look as if you’d been in battle,” he sniffed, examining the lattice of contusions from my struggle in the Thames, which covered most of my body in yellowed welts. “I’ve never seen a man take such a beating. And this cut on your brow: I fear you will have a scar.”

I looked over his head to where Kate stood. We had not spoken again of my betrayal. She had said she did not want to know more, and I must respect it. Yet I had the sense she had known from the start that my withdrawal from her and decision to remain abroad, without word, had been prompted as much by guilt as the peril we faced. I resigned myself to our estrangement; I did not deserve her, and though she came to tend me every day, she remained aloof.

But as I now let her assist me to dress—she had seen me naked before and I was in no position to insist on modesty—tying up my hose and tugging on my boots, as I couldn’t yet find much strength in my shoulder, I wanted to implore her forgiveness once more.

She let me clumsily haul myself upright before she said, “Her Majesty wants you to attend her coronation. She delayed it until January, so you would have sufficient time to recover. Cecil tried to dissuade her, but she would not hear of it.”

“Then I must attend,” I said.

Kate nodded, offering me her arm. “Before you do, she wishes to see you.”

It felt strange moving through court, passing courtiers who stopped to stare and then, as we moved past, to whisper. I had always lived my life in the background, avoiding notice. Now, it seemed as if everyone knew me, though of course it was not so. My assignment had been clandestine, like my previous ones; the courtiers simply remarked on the sight of a man grown thin from enforced seclusion, his doublet hanging like someone else’s on his frame as he leaned on the arm of a lady in waiting. The novelty of it was the only thing that attracted their attention. Within days, if not hours, they would forget it when another novelty arose.

At the entrance to her apartments, I found Cecil waiting. He glowered at the sight of me. Before he could remonstrate, I said, “I had no choice. She asked me. How could I refuse?”

“No one said you had to refuse,” he replied, his pale blue eyes sparking. “But you might have at least left word. Walsingham searched London from attic to cellar for you.”

Naturally, I wanted to say, no doubt with a warrant for my arrest; but Cecil preempted me with unexpected deference: “You served her well, indeed,” and he led us into Elizabeth’s rooms.

She stood by the window, clad in azure velvet, regal in her poise as she turned at my approach, her red-gold hair coiled at her nape, her long, slim fingers speckled with rings. She looked better, I noted, still too lean, but then she never did seem to put on flesh, her appetite subsumed by restlessness. As I made to bow, she said, “No ceremony.” She flicked her hand at Cecil and Kate, who retreated to leave us alone.

“Does he know?” I asked.

“Do you think me a fool?” She stepped to me. “Cecil believes you helped bring down a Spanish assassin intent on my demise. He may suspect more, but he will never ask. To do so would compromise him beyond his abilities.”

She did not need to elaborate. Cecil was busy rounding up royal suitors for a virgin queen; the revelation that she was not would indeed complicate his task.

“Robert does, though,” she added, “as I believe he told you. He took Hugh from the boat and brought him here to me.” She motioned to a chair. “You grow pale. You may sit.”

“By your leave, I would prefer to stand. I’ve been resting long enough.”

She frowned. “Is this the time to question me?”

“Not anymore. I think we confided all that needed to be said in the Tower.”

“So you will ask nothing more?” She sounded doubtful. “You intend to let this matter between us rest?”

“I also hid a secret,” I replied. “I believe that entitles you to have yours.”

A small laugh escaped her. It lit up her face, reminding me of the fallible young woman she still was, only twenty-five, with a divided realm she must make her own. She moved to the door to her bedchamber, rapped on it with her knuckles. When it opened, Lady Parry emerged. Clinging to her hand was a sturdy figure with fresh-cropped, dark red-gold hair.

I staggered to one knee. He let out a cry, running into my arms. I did not feel the pain, then, ignoring the sharp stab in my shoulder and throbbing of my bruises as he clung to me.

“I knew you would come,” he said, his voice muffled against my doublet. “You are my friend.”

“Yes, I am.” A lump formed in my chest. I gazed up at Elizabeth. She stood silent but her expression filled with a gratitude that told me more than any words. With a smile, Lady Parry nodded at me. She was still pale and thin from her trials but also clearly on the mend.

“He must be kept from court,” Elizabeth said. “I never had a childhood or youth; he must not suffer the same.” She bit her lower lip, watching her son in my arms. “I want you and Kate to raise him at Hatfield.”

“Hatfield,” echoed Raff brightly. “The pretty lady says Hatfield is my home.”

I met Elizabeth’s eyes. “It would mean…”

She nodded. “It would, but his safety is everything. Besides, I have Cecil and Walsingham to protect me now. You have done enough—more than enough, some might say.”

“And Kate…?” I was having trouble speaking, every word sticking to the roof of my mouth. She offered me the one thing I never expected: the choice to leave the court, to retire and care for her child, to enjoy as much of an ordinary life as a man like me could hope for. I would never have imagined it; I had thought instead to request her leave to return abroad, an agent in Cecil’s service, far from the memory of what I had lost.

“I should think you will need to ask her,” said Elizabeth. “But if I know Kate, I am certain of her answer.” She tugged one of her ruby rings from her fingers. “You will need this,” she added, with a wry smile. “Maidens like to be properly enticed.”

I bent my face, kissing Raff’s forehead. He beamed at me. “I’ll see you very soon,” I promised, and he nodded, returning to Lady Parry, who led him away.

After I took the ring from her, Elizabeth regarded me with unvoiced sadness.

This time, I bowed low. She was, after all, my queen.

*   *   *

I found Kate alone in the anteroom, waiting. She rose quickly from her stool in a soft fall of skirts. “Cecil left to attend to plans for the coronation,” she said, clasping her hands before her stomacher. “He told me he would speak with you later. Did she…?” Her voice faltered; I knew in that instant that Elizabeth had confided in her about the child.

“She did.” I stepped to her. “Kate, can you forgive me?”

“I told you that I already have.” She tried to remain composed, as if the fragility between us might crumble anew. “I must ask your forgiveness, too. The way I treated you when you arrived at court … I had no right.”

I laughed, startling her. “Oh, you had every right.” I withdrew Elizabeth’s ring from my doublet. “Kate Stafford, though I am surely the most undeserving of men, will you be my wife? Will you come away with me and never look back?”

She looked down at the ring, tears starting in her eyes. Then, with a trembling breath, she whispered, “Yes. I will, Brendan Prescott, most undeserving of men that you are.”

I gathered her in my arms, setting my lips on hers with a sigh.

At last, I knew where I belonged.

*   *   *

On January 15, 1559, the date designated by Dudley’s astrologer Dee as the most auspicious, we gathered in Westminster Abbey among a horde of dignitaries, nobles, and officials, while outside in the snow-strewn streets, the crowds shouted their approval as bells clamored and the new queen of England made her procession from the Tower.

The pew selected for us was not close to where her throne waited, but it did not matter. When she reached the Abbey to a deafening blast of trumpets, ablaze in cloth of gold trimmed in ermine, her hair loose upon her shoulders and mantle carried by noblewomen, she was all any of us could see, her stately walk down the aisle as we dropped into obeisance bringing a surge of pride and joy to my heart.

She kept her chin up and gaze level, never once acknowledging those around her, as if it were only her and that empty throne in private consummation; but I saw her tremble faintly and recognized, as few could, her awareness of what it had cost her to attain this glory. Now, she must prove worthy of it. Elizabeth I’s reign had only just begun.

As she knelt at the altar for her ceremonial anointing and the trumpets blared again, Kate slipped her hand in mine. I turned to her. Though a queen took the throne that day, my eyes remained fixed on the woman with whom I would spend the rest of my life.

*   *   *

Dudley came to me during the banquet in Westminster Palace. The cavernous hall had become an arbor, silken greenery slung from the high eaves and tapestries hugging the ancient, damp-streaked walls. I was not sure how I felt, watching his damask swagger and envy-provoking proximity to the queen, flaunting before all the high favor in which she held him. Around us, conversation and wine flowed, Elizabeth at the high dais sampling an endless round of dishes before the pages circulated them among her guests.

All of a sudden, he was at my side. “Prescott,” he said, “a moment alone, if you would?”

Kate gave me quick assent, and so I left my seat to follow him. He led me from the hall, past nobles already scheming in various alcoves, down the corridors where the chill of the day congealed into frigid night, until we reached an empty enclosed courtyard, the star-speckled sky above us outlined by Westminster’s barbed silhouette.

Without preamble he said, “I wish to suggest a truce.”

He stood with one hand on his hip, magnificent as only he could be, the jeweled gleam of Elizabeth’s favor draped upon his shoulders. His dark eyes flared when I did not answer. “Do you not agree? You intend to hold enmity against me forever?”

“My lord,” I said, “the enmity is also yours. You would have seen me to my death.”

He clenched his jaw. At length, he said, “I only followed her command.”

“As you always do,” I replied, though I already recognized that this lifelong quarrel between us must end. He was the man Elizabeth had chosen to love; I did not agree with it and probably never would, but I could not fight it anymore. Moreover, how could I judge, after I too had succumbed to destructive passion? Only those who suffered it could learn to overcome it.

“She intervened,” Dudley said, and if I had not known him as well as I did, I might have thought he attempted an apology. “I took that ring to her as you bade. She went to see you. She believed whatever it was you told her.” His voice hardened. “You can consider yourself safe now. She will not let anyone, including me, harm you again.”

I resisted a smile. Elizabeth might love him, shared her secret with him, but she had not confessed everything. She knew Dudley could never be trusted with the truth of who I was.

He eyed me, pawing the ground with the tip of his boot. “Well? I propose a truce, not a friendship. I hear you will depart court anyway, to retire to Hatfield and tend a garden. I see no reason why we cannot agree to dislike each other from a distance. Not to mention, I spared you from that she-wolf, when I might have killed you as well and claimed she did it.”

“Yes,” I agreed quietly. “That you did.”

He wrenched off one of his cordovan leather gloves, extending his hand to me. As I reached out to take it, he suddenly grasped me, yanking me close. “That evidence against me you said you had,” he breathed. “I trust it too will be forgotten?”

I drew back. “Naturally, my lord,” I replied and I turned heel, leaving him to scowl.

It was also wise to let him believe I still had something to hold over his head.

*   *   *

Before we departed for Hatfield, Kate and I went to the graveyard by the Tower to pay our respects to Peregrine. The mound of earth was hoar-frosted now, a simple stone crucifix set at its tip the only indication that a beloved friend lay there. We held hands and said a prayer for his departed soul, Kate struggling to contain her tears.