When the Heavens Fall (4 page)

“Yes, Princess Elizabeth. This is my son, Brandon Winslow.”

Mary studied him and then asked, chin up, “And are you a good boy, Brandon?”

“No, Princess. I'm afraid not.”

Both Mary and Elizabeth laughed at this. Stuart frowned. “And why are you not good?” Elizabeth demanded

“Because I was shaped in iniquity and in sin did my mother conceive me.”

Mary and Elizabeth both stared at him. They recognized the quotation as being from the Bible, but Mary found his answer amusing. “Well, I must confess I am quite shocked,” Mary said. “I always considered your father a good man and believed his son to be the same.”

Elizabeth was delighted. “I'm so interested in sinners! Sister, you visit with his father, and I will take Master Brandon's confession. Come along, Master Brandon.”

Brandon smiled, and his father could see he liked the young woman. “Princess Elizabeth, you're neither priest nor old enough. I fear my iniquities would quite shock you.”

Heart palpitating, Stuart said, “Now, that's quite enough, Brandon—”

“And how old are you, Brandon?” the princess asked, ignoring Stuart

“Fourteen.”

“Why, I am only one year younger, but everyone knows that women are more mature than men. So, come, let me hear your confession.”

Mary laughed and sat down. “Be careful of her, Brandon. She's wild as a hawk.”

Stuart and Mary watched them leave, and they could hear Elizabeth's voice even after the door closed. Stuart frowned in the direction of the closed door. “Do you think they'll be all right unsupervised?”

“Cease your fretting, Father Winslow. The children will be fine—and shadowed by Hanson, no doubt.” She pointed to the chair across from her, clearly wanting him to take his ease

Stuart breathed a sigh of relief and sat down. “She is quite a girl, isn't she? The last time I came to visit she was only about four or five, and yet clearly she remembers me.”

“She's actually quite brilliant. She's learning Latin and
Greek so quickly that I keep needing to find more learned tutors. Now please sit down and tell me about your family.”

Stuart sat down and gave her a brief summary of his life. When he ended, she said, “Oh, how I've missed you, Stuart! It's so good to hear about you and Stoneybrook. It sounds as if you are in exactly the place you wish to be.”

Stuart shifted in his seat. “You know it wasn't my decision, Princess, to discontinue our visits.”

Her smile faded. “Oh, I am aware of it. My father forbade visits. He kept me closed off from all the world.”

“I tried several times to see you, but I was never admitted. It was only recently that I learned that you were again able to receive visitors.”

Mary rose and strode to the fireplace, clearly agitated. “My father separated my mother and me. We loved each other dearly, and he wouldn't even let me see her for years. I hated him for that.”

Stuart did not know what to say. “How is the king?” he asked finally

“Dying.”

“Well, I'm sorry to hear that.”

“I should be, Stuart, but how can I love a man who dismisses his true wife and executes two others? And now . . .” She shook her head, as if willing herself out of a dream. “Catherine Parr is a good woman. There is no romance to their marriage of course. He only wanted to marry her so that someone would nurse him through his illnesses. But Catherine is good to all of us. We love her very much. Even little Edward is fond of her.”

“And Edward will be king.”

“In name, but there will be a Protector for him, given his age.”

“What's the boy like, Princess?”

“He's . . . very strange, very religious. He delights in sermons and talking with learned preachers and theologians.”

“Well, I suppose that's not all bad,” Stuart said, thinking of his own years as a boy and his meetings with Tyndale

“It doesn't seem good to me. Not in a nine-year-old. And he's quite frail. Frankly, I don't think he'll live to rule.”

Stuart blinked in surprise. “Then you would be next in line.”

Mary shook her head. “You know how it is in England. There are many who would prevent me from taking the throne because I'm Catholic.”

“Well, come, now. Sit, as you bade me to do. Suppose for a moment that there was no opposition. If you were queen, what would you do?”

A glow came to Mary's eyes, and she took a seat, but her back was straight, and she rubbed her hands in excitement. There was a strength in her, Stuart saw, though it was not obvious at first glance. There had to be strength within her in order for her to endure all Henry's neglect and ill-treatment. She stared into his face and said, “I'd bring England back to the true faith. No more beheadings, no more fear. I would love my people. I think, Stuart, they long to return to the old faith, but my father made that impossible.”

“I could never keep up with your father's religious views.”

“I don't think he has a firm grasp on them himself, but I would bring my people out of heresy and back into the true church, the Catholic Church.”

There was a light of fanaticism in Mary's eyes. Stuart shifted, suddenly uncomfortable in his chair. He had thought it through, and like the great majority of Englishmen, he had no desire to see England turned back into a Catholic nation. But he made himself sit still, listening, as Mary began to tell him about her plans if indeed she was ever crowned queen

Elizabeth had been picking Brandon apart with questions, prying into his mind. It did not take long for him to decide that
she was a very clever girl, coming at him bluntly if he refused to respond

She asked him about his studies, and he said, “I'm not much of a student. I would rather ride and hunt and fence—you know, pursue the things of men, not scholars and children.”

“You're very handsome,” she said, sliding her hand through the crook of his arm as they walked. She cast an impish look at Hanson, the servant, who followed them by ten paces, but seemed unafraid of interruption

Brandon blinked then laughed. “You shouldn't say such things, Princess. But if I may say it, you are very beautiful.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Have you had any love affairs?”

Brandon could not find an answer, and her intense glance made him flush at the neck

“Why, you can blush! That
is
rare. You may amount to something.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Tell me, Brandon Winslow, would you like to kiss me?”

Brandon was shocked. “You're the Princess Elizabeth! It wouldn't be—suitable.”

“I know who I am. But you strike me as a boy unafraid of serious conquests.” She moved on—the question about kissing her clearly only one of many she had in her mind—asking about the girls he knew, and Brandon found himself pinned into a shadowed corner when she demanded to know the details of who it was that he had loved

“I cannot speak of that, Princess. No gentleman kisses and tells.” He glanced over her shoulder, frowning when he could not see Hanson beyond them in the hall

“Really?” Elizabeth surged forward and kissed him on the lips, surprising him. He stared at her hard. The last time he'd kissed a girl”

“Now, will you tell your father you kissed me?”

“Of course not!” Brandon sputtered, moving past her and into the hall. He saw Hanson, still ten paces away, talking to two other servants, obviously distracted

Elizabeth tapped her chin and nodded. “Well, then
I
will tell him. I'll tell him you tried to steal my virginity.”

“No! Don't tell him that, Princess!”

Elizabeth noted his fear. “Forgive me. I forget myself at times. Would your father be very hard on you?”

Brandon leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. In a moment, he found himself telling her the story of his banishment and beating

“Do you hate your father for beating you?”

“It was humiliating.”

“But if you had a young daughter,” Elizabeth said, “and a young man tried to have his way with her against her will, what would you do to him?”

“I would thrash him,” he said begrudgingly, kicking the toe of his boot into the stone floor as if he might chip off a bit of it

“I'm sure you would. My sister thinks your father is the kindest and the most trustworthy man in England. She's seen enough of the other sort! Listen to me, Brandon Winslow. I've learned to know a little something about men too.” Anger swept across Elizabeth's face. She shook her head and said, “You should thank God every day that you have a kind father who loves you.”

Brandon listened, thinking of how the king had killed this girl's mother, and he nodded. “I'm certain you're right, Princess.”

“You must forgive your father. Will you do that?”

“Yes, I will.”

Elizabeth hugged him and touched him on the cheek. “There's a good fellow! Come, now, I'll show you my father's falcons, and you can confess more of your sins.”

Brandon could not help but laugh. “You're not what I expected in a princess. Will you ever be queen?”

“No, Edward will be king, and if he dies, my sister Mary will be queen. But I would dearly love to wear the crown someday.”

“Well, I think you'd make a fine queen.”

Elizabeth reached out and pulled his hair. “You have beautiful hair,” she said. “Auburn. It's almost the same color as mine. You know, if I were queen, I'd surround myself with handsome young men like you—and all of them would fall in love with me.”

“I'm certain they would.”

“Well, you can appeal to my vanity while we look at the hawks. Wasn't your father once the king's falconer? Come along, now.”

The day after they returned from the visit with Mary and Elizabeth, Stuart noticed that Brandon had cast off his sullen behavior and was showing interest in the work of the estate—and even better, showing some affection for his parents. Better yet, during their fencing lesson Brandon seemed to absorb both instruction and praise

“You'll be too good for me soon,” Stuart said. “We'll have to get an expert.”

“I don't think so.” Brandon said, sitting down beside his father. Stuart was pleased to see that the boy was panting as hard as he. Brandon wiped the perspiration from his brow and said, “Will we go back to see Princess Mary—and Elizabeth?”

“Would you like to?”

“Yes, I would. I like Elizabeth very much.”

Stuart paused. “What about Mary?”

“Elizabeth says her sister thinks you're one of the few men she knows that she would trust.”

“Well, I should hope that she could trust me. I have a great affection for Princess Mary.” He patted his son on the back. “We'll go back soon for another visit.”

The two had put up their swords and started for the stables to take a ride when Brandon said, “Look, there comes Uncle Quentin.”

Quentin came riding up at a gallop and pulled the horse to a quick stop beside them. The animal was lathered and heaving for breath

Stuart said, “What is it? What's wrong?”

“The king is dead,” Quentin said as he dismounted. He stared hard at Stuart. “King Henry died yesterday.”

“Then Edward will be king,” Stuart whispered

“Yes. God save the king. May he be a better man than his father.”

The three of them headed immediately for the castle

Brandon fell into step beside his father. “Does this mean we can't make our visit?” he asked quietly

“After the funeral and after we've given the family time to mourn, we'll go see them often. They'll have need of a friendly ear.”

“I feel sorry for them, Father. They're bound to be sad, despite everything, aren't they?”

“Yes, I feel sorry for them too. They've had a terrible life, and little good can come in their direction, the way things stand.”

“Do you think King Edward will be cruel to them as their father was?”