Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) (44 page)

Though in the yoke with free consent,

the humble heart did fall:

The heavens stood so out of tune,

he gave no grace at all.

And clapped up full fast in hold,

a prisoner’s part he plays…

~Thomas Churchyard

Elizabethan Solider and poet

Late October, 1561

My eyes widened as the door slowly opened to reveal the tall
, lithe form of Cecil. He bowed briefly before standing tall once more. His willowy form was so erect, I doubt the brief bow could have been from anything other than his muscles straining at being moved from his normal statuesque pose.

“
Master Cecil…” I trailed off, and inclined my head out of manners, although I wasn’t sure what to say. He was the last person I’d ever expected to see. Even Queen Elizabeth herself was higher on the list of those who might darken my doorway.

The light from the candles flickered
, creating dark, dancing shadows along the walls and floor and over Cecil’s face. I squinted, but between the trick of the lighting and the set of his cap, it was difficult to gauge his attitude.

“My lady.” He stepped into the room and closed the door with long
, pointy fingers. “You seem shocked to see me.” So very blunt he was, and yet his voice held a hidden note. “Mayhap I have come at the queen’s behest.”

I pursed my lips and gave the secretary a smirk of a smile. “My dear sir, we both know that is not the case. My cousin wishes for me to rot eternally in this prison.”

Just saying the words aloud brought on a pang of sadness. My baby was with me now, but my husband was not—if I could even call him such since Queen Elizabeth was bent on having our union proclaimed invalid.
No!
I would not let her take that from me. We were lawfully wedded, and I should forever lay claim to our union! And when would she take my child from me? For that threat had been evident in her sharp black eyes when last I’d seen her.

Cecil waved away my words and walked deeper into the room.

“I forget myself, Master Secretary, would you care for wine?”

He looked around, appearing to
search out the goblets and decanter as though I might have poisoned the wine already—or as if surprised I might be afforded such luxuries.

“My thanks, my lady
. However, my visit to you must be brief, and kept…quiet.”

My eyes narrowed at his words. “Quiet?” After all I
’d been through, I was not about to get myself embroiled in more court scandal.

“Indeed. If Her M
ajesty knew of my presence here, we would both regret the outcome.” He took a deep sigh and went toward the window, closing the shutters and curtains, and then peeping about to make sure we were completely alone.

“Why have you come?” My voice came out harsher than I intended, but the greatest spy known to Elizabeth
’s realm made me quite nervous.

Cecil came to stand in front of me, and I had to crane my neck to see his sharp, angular face,
his nose so long, the tip threatened to poke my eyes out. “I have come to strike a bargain with you.”

“A bargain? With me?” I could not hide
the bewilderment in my voice or my expression. I even stepped back and shook my head. “No, Master Cecil, ’tis not possible. I am a
prisoner
of the queen. Bargains are best left struck with those who maintain free will.”

Cecil chuckled, but his face did not show any merriment, only determination.

“Lady Katherine, you still have free will. You must be careful only in how you use it.”

I continued to shake my head. “Your words puzzle me, sir. I am a prisoner
. Please tell me how I might have free will when I am forbidden from leaving the Tower grounds, and cannot even leave this chamber without permission. The queen herself has told me I will never gain her favor again, that I am a traitor in her eyes.”

“May I speak plainly with you?” His tone broached no argument, and so instead of answering, I simply raised my brows and spread my arm
s wide in invitation.

He nodded briskly and
stroked the length of his pointy beard. “The queen is headstrong. Stubborn. She has trouble seeing past the end of her own ego and toward what is right.”

He paused, once again taking in our surroundings.

“I assure you, there is no one here. The nurse has my babe in the antechamber, and I have no other visitors.”

His lips twisted in what looked more like a grimace than a smile. “You can never be too careful. I am a spy, my lady, and I know how spies operate.”

His words sent a shiver up my spine. Could I trust this man? He was so intense... Frightened me and left me on edge, unsure of how to react. I found my own eyes wandering about the room, fearful some man dressed in black would jump out from the shadows and charge me with some other imagined insult.

“As I was saying, the
queen is headstrong and follows her heart. She is a good sovereign, but one who is volatile and often makes decisions based on her own feelings.”

“I fail to see where you are going with this, sir, other than to say our
queen is a female with normal and rational female emotions?”

“You have a very similar sharp tongue to your cousin. I see why she fears you. You are also beautiful, and our good Bess fears beauty in others. But that is beside the point
. I have come to strike a bargain with you, and I would know that you are open to such before I proceed.”

“And if I am not?”

“Then I will leave here now without either of us mentioning our chance meeting.”

Chance meeting? It was almost laughable, as there was no chance about him happening to travel to the place where I was being held prisoner. And yet I was completely intrigued by his words.
My future was bleak, my heart ached. What did I have to lose in making a bargain with this man, other than my life?

“Do you offer me your support? Will I be kept safe?”

“I cannot make promises, my lady, but I will do my utmost to see to your safety should you agree.”

“Then
, yes, I am willing to hear your bargain.”

He chuckled, the sound grating along my nerves like a sword scraping over cobblestones.
His lips twitched, a true smile emerged, but there was no twinkle in his eye, as though the things that made him happy were not from merriment, but something dark, something deep inside his soul.

“Excellent. I will have that glass of wine now, if it pleases.”

I nodded and walked to the small sideboard, pouring two glasses of red wine—although quite watered, as my new warden seemed to hold a tight purse. I handed a glass to Cecil, who drank a tiny sip, swishing the liquid in his mouth.

“Why do you do this, sir? Do you taste for poison?”

His eyes locked with mine, as if he was trying to decide how to answer. He gave a quick nod and then took a larger sip, this time swallowing normally.

“Come sit.” I walked to
the two armchairs that sat close by the hearth and indicated for Cecil to take a chair. Even when he’d folded himself into a sitting position, his spine was erect and he appeared stiff-limbed.

“My lady, you have born a son.
At this point in time, your boy could be our next king.”

My eyes widened in shock, for while I had thought such a thing when his large blue eyes gazed into mine, I had never heard the words whispered from another
’s lips.

“The
queen refuses to marry. She says she is married to the crown, and all of England’s people are her children. Such poetic words are sweet to the people’s ears, but when it comes to a strong and secure throne, they are like bait luring any would-be usurper and bringer of riots to come to the surface. It is my plan to have the queen write a new will in which she names your sons in the line of succession unless she marries and produces children.”

I shook my head vehemently. “She will never agree to it.”

“Such is the case now, but if you were to continue bearing sons, she would see the error in her thinking.”

“Continue?
’Tis not possible! My husband is kept from me.”

“I can make arrangements for you to meet on
occasion.”

“How is that possible?”

“Leave the details to me. All you have to do is follow my orders. You will be with your husband, and you will be doing England a great service.”

I nodded, but not necessarily because I was in agreement,
more due to shock and fear.

Elizabeth would surely kill my son now. And if I were to have more children, she herself might swing the
ax at my neck.

With one hand, I touched my n
eck, feeling the lengthy delicacy of it. With the other, I brought the wine to my lips. I gulped greedily, choking on it when I breathed in a ragged breath.

“Fear shows courage, my lady. Let the people see you have the latter in abundance.”
Cecil stood. “I shall return when I have more news.”

A few months later… January, 1562

“My lady, I bring you news,” Cecil said as he entered my Tower chamber. I’d yet to hear from him since his previous visit some months before. As days had turned into weeks and months, I’d concluded he’d been trying only to draw information from me.

My eyes widened
, and I set little Eddie in his nursemaid’s arms and turned to give Elizabeth’s man my attention. “Tell me!” A smattering of hope crept through my voice.

“
’Tis not good tidings I bear.”

My smile faltered
, and I swallowed hard. “Tell me.”

“The commissioners in charge of your interrogation have drawn their conclusions, my lady. They have state
d that no one appears privy to the marriage, nor to your love of Hertford and his love of you, other than a few servants who saw you together after the fact or those who are dead. As such, and there being no evidence of declaration of marriage prior to now, they have declared your marriage invalid. The Archbishop of Canterbury has stated that Hertford had undue and unlawful copulation with a princess of the blood, and that because of your excess you shall both be punished.”

I
was shocked. I had thought the commissioners would see the logical sense in our case. I nodded, accepting his words, even though inside I was crushed. How could they deem our marriage invalid? My eyes swept to little Eddie, nestled in the arms of his nurse.

“If husband and wife swear under God that they are married in truth, and act upon such, how is it that anyone should then conclude they are not?” I whispered
. Why should I have been shocked, though?

The
queen always won.

“My lady, you have much support from the people who do believe
your marriage is valid. There are streams of people who believe Her Majesty’s treatment of you is cruel and unnecessary. That she is acting out on a bruised ego. Indeed, why should man and wife be prevented from coming together?” Cecil walked to the window and looked out onto the grounds below. “They are connecting your plight to that of Hertford’s father and of your sister Jane. Others who have been harshly imprisoned for nothing other than someone else’s gain. And you have a legitimate male heir, my lady, an heir to the throne, while Her Majesty’s bed lay cold. And it would seem it shall stay that way.”

“She is the
queen.” She was the ruler, and she showed no mercy. She would not rule with a man by her side. She’d seen all too cruelly how marriage could be to a woman.

“Mary, Queen of Scots
, claims you proudly as her rival. And I will tell you, you have many powerful allies at court. We encourage Her Majesty daily to name an heir, in favor of you and your son. You have declared during your interrogation to the Archbishop of Canterbury that you are married. Many would see that as valid. Indeed, I would wager most do, which is why the queen lets you languish. We need only bide our time, my lady. And you shall soon see your husband once more—in truth.”

“What are you saying?” I hissed and glanced again at my maids.
He talked of me being named heir to the throne, of accepting Hertford into my bed when forbidden by the queen. We could all have been arrested for his words! “’Tis treasonous talk.”

Cecil
’s eyes flickered to the maids. “They are in my service, my lady. All I am saying is your time will come.”

Late February, 1562

“Kat,” Ned breathed, his beautiful lips parted, and I had to hold myself from running to him, to kiss his mouth for all the time we’d lost, for all that we had suffered thus far, and for all the pain that was still to come.

“My lord
.” I dipped into a curtsy, not sure how to react with him, since we had not seen each other in nearly a year.

He
sauntered forward, all power in his long, lithe legs, and I noted that he still kept a trim figure.