The Tudor Secret (9 page)

Greenwich Palace materialized in a multitude of turrets and pointed blue slate rooftops, fronted by the southeastern swath of the Thames. From the slope where Robert and I halted to rest our mounts, I thought it a more graceful sight than Whitehall’s colossal sprawl, a secluded palace nestled amid woodlands, removed from the grit and chaos of London. It was difficult to conceive of any menace lurking there. Yet Cecil believed it was in Greenwich that the duke had sequestered the king, and here he would make his move against Elizabeth.

“She was born in Greenwich,” Robert said, breaking into my thoughts. “September 7, 1533.” He chuckled. “It was quite the occasion. King Henry had been striding about for months, crashing heads, and cutting off not a few, declaring to all who cared to listen that his beloved queen would bear him a son. But when Anne Boleyn took to her bed, all she brought mewling into the world was, as Henry himself put it, ‘a worthless daughter.’ ”

I glanced at him. “A beautiful place to be born, my lord. She must be fond of it.”

“She is. She even had her own apartments as a babe, at Queen Anne’s insistence. Anne wanted her daughter close to her, regardless of how Henry felt.” Robert straightened in his saddle. “I wonder if she’s arrived yet. It would be just like her to keep us waiting.”

I hoped she did. The longer she delayed, the more time I’d have to appraise the situation. Cecil had said it was likely Edward had been lodged in the palace itself, perhaps in the so-called Secret Lodgings, a series of guarded chambers connected to a long gallery, designed to afford the monarch privacy and seclusion. The more I found out about Edward’s exact whereabouts, the more Cecil might discern about the duke’s impending plans. I also had to join up with Peregrine and find out who was following me and why.

“Let us be off,” cried Robert. “Last one there has to feed the horses.”

With a spirited laugh, he set spurs to his bay. Cinnabar leapt at my nudge, reveling in the opportunity to display prowess. Habituated to long daily rides outside Dudley Castle, my roan was not used to too many hours in the stable. With the wind against my face and Cinnabar’s flanks propelling me forth, I surrendered to the moment, reminded of the days when I’d rode bareback in the fields as a boy, feeling for a brief time as though I hadn’t a care in the world.

*   *   *

The palace sprang up before me, faced in red brick riddled with plaster grotesques, octagonal chimneys emitting roast smoke and knot gardens breathing a confection of perfumes from herbs and perennials. Waving his hand imperiously, using his horse as a wedge, Robert steered us through the courtiers amassed outside the main gatehouse. We rode past a ward into a cobblestone courtyard, around which were assembled edifices painted in Tudor green and white.

Grooms led lathered horses into these stables, while noblemen in leather cloaks peeled off gauntlets as they stalked into the palace.

Robert leapt from his saddle. Unhooking his bags, he said, “I won the wager. You see to the horses. I’ve a room off the inner court. Wait for me there. I have to report to my father.” He strode off, leaving me with the horses panting in my ears, oblivious that I’d curbed Cinnabar’s enthusiasm so I might deliberately lag behind.

I led the horses into a stable. Harried grooms were accommodating a multitude of roans, geldings, and palfreys, divesting them of saddles, brushing them down, and stabling them with armloads of fresh oats and hay.

None took notice of another servant among them. I recognized the duke’s own sleek Barbary in a far stall removed from the others, beside an exit gate with a view of a vast hunting park. I brought the horses to it. Like his son, Northumberland had disdained travel by river. I couldn’t say I blamed them: I was not enamored of running water myself, a childhood fear I had never fully conquered.

I clicked my tongue at the Barbary, who pricked its ears as I stabled Robert’s steed and Cinnabar nearby. “Enjoy it,” I told Cinnabar. “There’s no predicting where we might lodge next.” He nuzzled me, grateful for the run.

A liveried groom approached. “Will you be requiring feed?”

I nodded, reaching into my jerkin for a coin. “Yes, please, and—” I stopped. Stared. “Where in God’s name did you get that green coat? Or should I say, steal it?”

Peregrine grinned. “I borrowed it. These Greenwich stable grooms are so easily bribed. They’d strip naked for the mere glint of gold.”

“Is that so?” I returned to the horses, lowering my voice. “Did you find him?”

Taking my cue, Peregrine busied himself spreading hay on the floor. “Yes. He’s here.”

I paused. “In the palace?”

“Yes. After I left you, I followed him to a tavern where he’d tethered his horse. He didn’t even stop for a drink. He took to the road and got caught up in the servant transport from Whitehall, which gave me time to hop a cart. He rode beside us but stayed apart, as if he smelled better, though there were ale and songs aplenty. When he arrived, he went to the queen’s apartments. The guards didn’t check his papers at the gatehouse. He must have distinction.”

“The queen’s apartments?” I frowned. “His Majesty isn’t married.”

Peregrine shook his head, as if I were hopeless. “That’s just what they’re called. Old Henry’s wives used to reside there. Guess who’s lodged there now? Jane Grey and her mother, the duchess of Suffolk: I think our man is a Suffolk hireling.”

I suppressed my disquiet. Had the duchess set one of her men to trail me? If so, she was probably learning at this moment about my enforced visit to Cecil’s manor house.

“What does he look like? Is he big or small? Tall or short?”

“He’s taller than you,” said Peregrine, “but not by much. He has a pointy face, like a ferret.”

“A ferret.” I gave him a wry smile. “I’ll remember that. Excellent work, Peregrine. I’m sorry I can’t repay you the coins you used to get that coat, but maybe later, eh?” I ruffled his hair, about to turn away when I heard him scoff.

“I don’t want your money. I can earn extra coins whenever I like. There are plenty of lords and ladies willing to pay for information. What I want is to work for you. I’ve had enough of mucking out stables. I think you’d make a good master.”

I was taken aback, though of course I should have seen it coming. The boy had clung to me like a clam since we’d met. Regardless of how I might view my circumstances, to him I was worth impressing—the personal squire to the duke’s son, in his debt for saving me from a potentially lethal stalker, with money to throw his way.

Then I thought of another possibility.

I smiled. “I’m flattered, but I can’t afford you.”

“Why not? I don’t cost much, and you must earn a decent wage. Secretary Cecil always pays his men well, and— Stop that!” He yanked away from my pinch to his ear.

I glanced about the stables. The grooms were too busy to pay us any mind, and the stalls partially concealed us in any event. Still, someone could be nearby, listening.

I pulled Peregrine close. “I never said who was paying me,” I hissed.

He recoiled. “You didn’t? I … I must have thought…” He chewed his lower lip. I could practically see his agile mind conjuring up lies out of thin air. “You were taken to his house.” He stopped. That didn’t sound convincing, and he knew it.

I regarded him without visible reaction. His stare shifted to the stall gate. In the second before he bolted, I registered panic on his face. Jerking forward, I snatched him by the collar. He was stronger than he looked, being little more than gristle and bone, but I got a firm enough grip to hold him dangling off the floor, like an errant pup.

“I think,” I said, “it’s time you told me who you work for.”

“No one!”

I tightened my grip, making an overt move for my dagger with my other hand. He sang out in a shrill treble, “I can’t say. He threatened to kill me if I did.”

That sounded better. I slackened my grip, letting a moment pass before I let him go. To his credit, Peregrine didn’t make a run for it.

“I’m disappointed. I thought you were my friend.”

“I am your friend,” he retorted, with an impressive indignation, all things considered. “I helped you, didn’t I? I warned you about being followed, and I followed that Suffolk man here. No one paid me to do that.”

“Oh? If memory serves, I believe I paid you. Four times, I might add.”

“I still risked my life.” He puffed out his chest. “And for what? Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you’d not make such a good master, after all.”

I smiled coldly. “It was Walsingham, wasn’t it? He told you to guide me to that path so I could be overtaken. You didn’t happen to see my abduction. You knew about it beforehand. Did he also tell you to make sure I caught you pretending to try to rob me, or did you think about that yourself? That was a nice touch, actually—disarming, yet it engendered contact and rapport.”

Peregrine shuffled his feet in the straw and lowered his eyes, a portrait of abject misery, which I was not buying for a second.

“Then you came after me,” I went on, “and, according to you, happened to chance upon this Suffolk man dodging us. Does he actually exist? Or is Walsingham setting me up for more trickery?”

That got his attention. He reared his face up, furious. “Of course he exists! And why would Walsingham want to trick you? You both work for Cecil.”

“Perhaps, but then I never thought you’d trick me, either.”

“I haven’t!” His protest resounded into the stables, causing the horses to stomp their hooves and grooms to look up. Abashed, he dropped his voice. “I didn’t trick you,” he repeated. “I’m not Walsingham’s lackey. Yes, he came and ordered me to see you to that path. He knew you were asleep in the hay pile. Don’t ask me how. But I don’t work for him, and he didn’t pay me. He said either I did as he told me, or else. I figured you’d fallen into serious trouble when his men took you, so I decided to follow you, in case.”

“In case what? You could fish out my corpse from the river and steal my pouch?”

He glared. “In case you needed me. I … I like you.”

I heard an unwilling ring of truth in his avowal. Had I been in his place, I would have done the same. I knew what it felt like to be scared and have everything to lose. Moreover, Walsingham wasn’t one to tolerate no for an answer, particularly from some urchin he’d just as soon kick as look at.

“Let’s say for argument’s sake that I believe you,” I said at length. “I still can’t hire you. I don’t have a treasury to draw upon, and who’s to say what’ll happen the next time someone offers you a few coins?”

“I’ll work for free, then, to prove myself. I’m not afraid of anything. I’ll go anywhere you want me to, find out anything you need to know. All you have to do is tell me.”

I softened my tone. “I’m sorry, but the answer is no. This task I’m entrusted with … it could be very dangerous. I’ll not put you at risk.”

“I’ve been at risk all of my life. I can take care of myself.”

“I realize that. But I can’t allow it.”

“Why not? You obviously need someone to help you. You can’t possibly hope to save the princess without—” Choking on his own words, Peregrine leapt back from me into Cinnabar’s rump. He was lucky that my horse was a tolerant creature, unlikely to kick unless provoked.

I rounded on him. “How do you know about that? And don’t you dare lie to me this time, or you’ll rue the day we met.”

“I overheard it. At Cecil’s house. The window … it was ajar.”

“And you were there the entire time, listening?”

“Yes. Our man almost saw me. He crept right past the hedge where I was hiding. I could have reached out and grabbed his cloak.”

I went still. “He also heard? Everything?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, or at least not all of it. He wasn’t there long enough. When Cecil’s wife and son came into the garden, they scared him off.”

“Cecil’s wife and son?” I almost rolled my eyes. “You knew who they were? You are the little snake, aren’t you?”

He let out a nervous laugh. “Yes! Yes, I am. See? This little snake can be of use to you.”

“Not so fast. What else do you know? Best tell me now. I hate surprises.”

“Nothing. I swear it on my mother’s soul, may she rest in peace, whoever she was.”

Whoever she was …

I paused. I should order him back to Whitehall, back to his life of anonymity and opportunism. It would be safer than whatever awaited here.

But I knew I wouldn’t. I saw myself in him, the child I had been. He deserved a chance. I just hoped neither of us would have reason to regret it.

“I expect you to earn your keep,” I said. “And to obey me in all things, no matter what.”

He sketched a clumsy bow. “Say no more, master. I’ll do anything you require.”

I couldn’t contain my smile. “And don’t call me that. My name will suit fine.”

Peregrine’s smile was so fulsome it warmed my heart. It was certainly an odd way to go about making a friend, but a friend I had made, nevertheless.

The Tudor Secret

It turned out that my new friend was also extraordinarily well versed on the layout of Greenwich, having been here on several occasions and in various capacities, including as a scullion. He’d ridden transport barges with animals from London, brought the creatures to their various owners, and was thus able to answer most of my questions concerning the palace, including the fact that Greenwich, like most abodes beautified by the Tudors, had been built upon the remnants of an older medieval edifice. I asked about the Secret Lodgings and how we might access them.

“The privy gentlemen watch over those rooms,” Peregrine explained as we entered an inner ward. “They’re charged with guarding the gallery to the royal chamber and preventing anyone from intruding. Of course, they can be bribed, but it’s risky. A privy gentleman who betrays the king’s trust can lose his post, and his head, if His Majesty gets mad enough.”

“Do you know any of Edward’s privy gentlemen?”

“You do. Your master Lord Robert is one of them.”

“I mean, one we can trust.”

He considered. “There’s Barnaby Fitzpatrick. He’s the King’s childhood friend. Sometimes he’d accompany Edward to the stables. He never said much, just stood and watched Edward like a bull. I don’t know if he’s here, though. I heard that most of Edward’s attendants were banished after he fell ill. Something about exposing His Majesty to contagion, though he looked well enough to me until the duke got hold of him.”

“Peregrine, you’re a veritable mine of information.” I donned my cap. “If you ever do choose to betray me, I won’t stand a chance.”

He gave me a sour look. “Do you want me to look for Barnaby? He might know a way to get into the Secret Lodgings, if that’s what you’re after.”

I glanced over my shoulder. As I did, I realized scouting the vicinity was becoming second nature to me. “Keep your voice down. Yes, he might be useful. Look for him but don’t tell him anything. I don’t know where I’ll be, but…”

“I’ll find you. I’ve done it before. Greenwich is not that big.”

I nodded. “Good luck, then. Whatever you do, please do stay out of trouble.”

Clad in his stable clothes, having discarded the groom’s coat, Peregrine dashed across the ward and up a staircase. With a whispered prayer for his safety, I went the opposite way, into the wing that housed the nobility. I’d decided to leave my saddlebag hidden in the straw near Cinnabar, where no one could steal it without getting their guts kicked in. My horse was tolerant but hardly amenable to searches in his stall by strangers. I’d removed only my dagger, which I kept in my boot, and so I moved easily, without visible burden.

The corridors were quiet. I faced a passage lined with identical doors, some shut, others ajar, all indistinguishable. I should have asked Robert exactly which room was his, I thought, as I began trying latches and peeking into chambers. They were similar in layout, containing a leather or faded cloth curtain separating a small front room from a much smaller bedchamber, some of which had primitive privies. As in Whitehall, the walls were uniformly whitewashed, the wood floors unadorned. What few furnishings the rooms had—a stool or bench, table, battered bed or pallet on rickety legs—were strictly utilitarian. Not luxurious by court standards, but at least they appeared free of fleas, rodents, and the ubiquitous smelly rushes.

It took a few tries before I located Robert’s room at the far end, recognizable because of his saddlebags tossed beside a leather coffer brought from Whitehall. His mud-spattered riding cloak was flung across a chair, as if he’d discarded it in a hurry.

He was gone, presumably to report to his father. I debated what to do next. Perhaps I could take advantage of this spare time to search his saddlebags for clues.

I froze in my tracks. There were footsteps coming. Bolting past the curtain into the bedchamber, with my breath lodged in my chest, I crouched down and put my eye to a frayed moth hole in the worn fabric.

I waited. A cloaked figure appeared in the doorway. For a paralyzing second I feared my shadow had found me. I forced myself to look, relief overwhelming me when I realized that despite the hooded cloak and scuffed boots, this person was shorter than me, smaller in build. Unless Peregrine had made a mistake, it couldn’t be our mystery man.

The figure glanced about the room. Then it withdrew a folded parchment from within its cloak and set it on the table, shifting the pewter candlesticks so as to make it plain to whomever entered. It didn’t linger after that, leaving as quickly as it had appeared.

I counted to ten under my breath before I slipped forth. The parchment was fine, of an obvious expensive grain. But it was the seal which captured my attention: That filigreed wax E encircled by vine tendrils could belong to no one else. I had to stop myself from tearing it open. There could be something in it I needed to know, something that would affect the course of my mission. But I couldn’t just break the seal on a letter from the princess intended for Robert. Not unless …

I scratched the edge of the seal with my fingernail. It was still tacky, easily lifted. With my heart hammering in my ears, I unfolded the parchment. Two brief lines were inscribed there in an aristocratic hand, followed by an unmistakable initial.

My lord, it seems there is a matter of some urgency we must discuss. If it suits your discretion, pray reply in kind by the established route, and we shall meet tonight, after the stroke of twelve, in the pavilion. E

I stood, breathless. I almost failed to hear the staccato footsteps marching down the passage outside, until they were suddenly at the door, sending me diving once more into hiding.

This time, Robert strode in, still in his riding gear, his features contorted. “Why must I always be the one to do his dirty work?” He yanked off his gauntlets, flung them aside.

Behind him, poised and immaculate, was his mother, Lady Dudley.

My throat tightened, even as my fingers quickly resealed the note. She clicked the door shut. “Robert, stop this. You’re not a boy anymore. I’ll not countenance a tantrum. Your father can request obedience, but I demand it.”

“You have it! You’ve always had it. I even wed that stupid Robsart wench because you and Father thought it best. Everything you’ve ever asked of me, I’ve done.”

“No one said you weren’t an exemplary son.”

He laughed harshly. “Excuse me if I beg to differ. In my experience, exemplary sons aren’t sent off on fool’s errands.”

“It is not a fool’s errand.” There was something eerie about the bland inflection in her tone. “On the contrary, what we ask implies significant trust in your abilities.”

“What ability? To ride off at a moment’s notice to arrest some old maid, which any idiot with half an escort could do? It’s not as if she’ll put up a fight. I’ll wager she has no more than a dozen retainers with her, if that.”

“Indeed.” I was relieved to hear Lady Dudley’s voice revert to its familiar cold severity. “And yet that same old maid could be our undoing.” Her eyes fixed on him. “Mary has demanded a full accounting of her brother the king’s condition. Otherwise, she threatens to take matters into her own hands. I need not tell you that this can only mean she’s receiving information from someone here at court.”

“No doubt. She’s not stupid. And there are still enough papists about to wish her well.”

“Yes,” she replied, “and the last thing we need is for one of those papists to help her flee the country so she can throw herself on her cousin the emperor’s mercy. Mary must be captured and silenced, and you’re the only one we dare send. None of your brothers has your training. You’ve ridden in battle; you know how to command men to your will. The soldiers will not question your orders when it comes time to take her.”

I clenched my teeth. They were talking about Princess Mary, the king’s older sister. I recalled what Cecil had said about her, about her staunch Catholicism and how she threatened the duke. I leaned closer to the curtain, slipping the missive into my jerkin. It did not escape me that I was, at this very moment, indulging in the very rite of passage of the court Cecil had mentioned, for the second time. Only if I were caught, I could forget getting out of here alive.

“I understand all that.” As Robert raked a hand through his tangled hair, he resembled an uncertain youth, caught between his own compulsive desires and the iron will of his parents. “I know how much we stand to lose. But Father and I had agreed that for now Mary posed no immediate threat. She has no army, no nobles willing to support her, and no money. She might suspect but she’s not in a position to do anything about it. Elizabeth, on the other hand, is here, in Greenwich. She’s a survivor, above all else. I know she’ll recognize the advantages of our proposition. Once we have her agreement, there’ll be more than enough time to hunt down her meddlesome sister.”

I did not move a muscle. I barely drew breath as I awaited Lady Dudley’s response.

“My son,” she said, and there was a subtle waver in her voice, as if she sought to repress an emotion that threatened to overwhelm her. “Your father doesn’t confide in me these days. But I know he faces tremendous odds. He has overseen this realm since Lord Protector Seymour went to the scaffold and hasn’t gained in popularity because of it. If he was seen as the Lord Protector’s right hand before, now he’s seen as the hand that struck his master’s head off. Though I agree that your proposal is sound, we still must contend with both the Suffolks and the council. They are only asking questions, for now. But soon they will demand answers.”

“Once we have Elizabeth, we can answer them. That’s what I tried to tell Father, but he wouldn’t listen. She is the key to everything. She’ll get us whatever we require.”

“You’re impatient,” she rebuked. “Without council approval, you cannot hope to have your marriage to Amy Robsart annulled. And until you’re free of her, you cannot hope for anything more than a friendship with Elizabeth Tudor.”

Robert’s face drained of color. “Father promised,” he said in a fierce whisper. “He promised me that neither the Suffolks nor the council would stand in our way. He said the annulment wouldn’t be an issue, that he’d force them to sign it at sword point if need be.”

“Circumstances change.” She sighed. “Your father can’t force further concessions at this juncture. There’s too much at stake. Elizabeth should never have come to London. By doing so, she’s put our feet to the flames. If she takes it into her head to petition the council to see her brother, or, God forbid, demand it of us in public…” She paused, the unspoken consequences of this calamitous possibility hovering between them.

Then she said, “Your father needs time, Robert. If he’s decided it’s best to not approach her yet, you must trust in his judgment. He never does anything without a purpose.”

As she spoke, I saw her eyes lift a fraction, past Robert to the curtain. My blood froze in my veins when I spied the coiled malice in her gaze. It made me think of how she’d looked when she’d brought me before the duchess of Suffolk, and I knew in that instant she was lying, right through her teeth. She misled her own son.

“He hasn’t forsaken you,” she continued, softly now. “He simply thinks it wiser to attend to Mary first. After all, who can predict what she’ll do? You say she has no money or support, but someone at court is obviously feeding her information, and the Spanish ambassador has money, if she needs it. The situation is too precarious. She must be disposed of, before she does us some irreparable damage.”

My belly knotted. Why was she mixing lies with truth? Why would she want Robert sent away from here, from Elizabeth? What could she possibly hope to gain from having her most capable son, the one with an intimate link to the princess, gone at a time of peril for the family?

Robert was staring at his mother as if he’d never seen her before. It was clear that he too sensed the betrayal but was at a loss as to how to decipher it. His hesitation cut like a blade between them before he let out a derisive chuckle.

“The only damage Mary can do is to make an ass of herself. She should have been married off years ago—to a Lutheran who’d beat some sense into that obstinate Catholic head of hers.”

“Be that as it may,” countered Lady Dudley, “you must admit she does represent a hindrance. She’s free to roam the countryside and rouse sympathy. The rabble loves a lost cause. I for one would sleep easier knowing she’s in the Tower. A day or two of hard riding, a few hours of unpleasantness, and it will be done. Then you can return to court and Elizabeth. Surely, she won’t spoil in the meantime.”

I observed the conflicting emotions on Robert’s face as his mother spoke and wasn’t surprised when at length he nodded, albeit in poor humor, and muttered, “Of course not. She’s stubborn as a mule, that one, just like her sister. She’ll stay put until all her questions are satisfied. I suppose that if I must see Mary to prison in order to get that idiot council to heed reason, then I will. I’ll bring her in chains to London.”

Lady Dudley inclined her head. “I am relieved to hear it. I will go tell your father. He’s deliberating with Lord Arundel. They’ll want to send trustworthy men with you, naturally. Once the preparations are done, you’ll be informed. Why not rest till then? You look tired.” The hand she set on his cheek should have invoked tenderness. It did not.

“You are our most gifted child,” she murmured. “Patience. Your time will come.”

Then she turned and, with a swish of skirts, departed the room.

As soon as the door shut Robert grabbed one of the candlesticks and flung it against the wall. Plaster sprayed. In the ensuing silence, his panting was like a cornered beast’s.

Fighting back the sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach, I passed a hand quickly through my hair, ruffling it, undid my jerkin laces, and emerged blinking from behind the curtain. He whirled about. “You! You were here? You … you heard?”

“Given the situation,” I said, “I thought it best if I remained out of sight, my lord.”

His eyes narrowed. “Fuck you, you eavesdropping dog.”

I dropped my gaze. “Forgive me but I was so tired. All that free wine last night, the ride here … I fell asleep on my lord’s bed. I beg your forgiveness. It won’t happen again.”