Betrayal (3 page)

“Lady Jane will snap first,” Mary insisted. “Look at her face.”

It was true that Lady Jane was looking very sour,
but I know how fussy Sarah is over her gowns. “We shall see,” I replied.

We moved on, with Mr. Hawkins still talking and talking. Mary and I had to hurry forward because the Queen was walking briskly and we had to make sure her train didn’t fall in the mud. As we passed Lady Sarah I saw her staring at the muddy footprint on her white damask.

Next thing, Lady Sarah “accidentally” gave Lady Jane a shove with her bumroll, and Lady Jane stepped off the walkway, getting her other pretty high-heeled shoe stuck in the mud.

By now Mr. Hawkins had the crook of his arm held out for Her Majesty to lean on. Mr. Hatton followed behind, looking as if his nose was thoroughly put out of joint.

“Well, you see, Your Majesty,” Hawkins was saying enthusiastically, “what we need is a new kind of ship altogether—a lower ship, with no castles and smooth hulls, built for speed—”

“Mr. Hawkins,” the Queen interrupted, putting out her white kid-gloved hand to stop him.

Hawkins, Drake, and Derby blinked at her.

She smiled. “Gentlemen, I speak excellent French, Italian, and Latin, not to mention English, but alas, I have absolutely no Sailorish.” Then she pointed at a
docked galleon. “Those are the castles?” she asked, pointing at the raised ends of the ship.

“Aye,” Mr. Hawkins confirmed. “They’re used for boarding, Ma’am,” he explained. “Being higher than an enemy ship makes it easier to board from them. One can just drop down onto the deck of another ship.”

“Ah. I see,” the Queen acknowledged. “Then should not our ships have higher castles than the enemy’s—else what happens if the enemy boards from his high castles?”

Hawkins grinned and winked down at her. “He’m got to catch us first, Ma’am, which he won’t if we have the fastest ships.”

“But how do you know your new lower ships will be faster?” the Queen inquired.

“I know it because God made fish for to swim fast and I learned the shape from Him,” declared Mr. Hawkins simply.

“The argument is sound,” agreed the Queen, nodding. “But can you prove it?”

“Aye, Your Majesty,” Hawkins said. “Captain Drake has an amusement for you and your Court if you’ll come this way.” His expression reminded me of my friend Masou when he is about to pull off a spectacular trick.

We all processed along a walkway covered with canvas to a pool like a big rectangular fishpond. There were two winches with handles at one end and two rollers at the other. Floating on the water, held by ropes that went round the rollers and back to the winches, were two beautifully made model ships.

A chair stood on a dais under an awning for the Queen to take her ease upon, which she did, while Mary and I arranged her train.

Captain Drake stepped forward and his sharp blue eyes sparkled as he talked about the models. “This one here is the exact shape of a Spanish galleon, Your Majesty. Do you see how high her castles are and how round her hull? We based her on a ship I took two summers ago.” He moved to the other model ship, which looked much less magnificent. “Now, this one here is a kind of ship that does not even exist yet, although my own ship, the
Judith,
has a hull not so very unlike it. This is what you might call a race-built galleon and the trick’s in her hull, which is long and narrow and smooth like a dolphin.”

The Queen nodded. “And the winches?” she asked.

“Ah, that’s for the wager.” He waved forward two sturdy young men. “Now, here are Jem and Michael
that are ’prenticed shipwrights and built strong, as you can see. Do you think they could turn the winch quickly?”

Everybody nodded, fascinated to know what he would say next. “Well, I say that the English race-built galleon can beat the Spanish galleon, even if two of the Queen’s own gentlewomen are turning the winch for it! In fact I’ll wager ten shillings on it. Who’ll take my bet?”

Well, the Court gentlemen thought this hysterically funny and, to be truthful, so did we, because the two young shipwrights looked as if they knew a thing or two about turning a winch. Mr. Hatton stepped forward at once to take Captain Drake’s bet and so did some of the other gentlemen. But I noticed that Captain Derby simply grinned at his friend and made no move to gamble. The Queen watched and smiled.

“Now, ladies, who shall turn the English galleon’s winch?” asked Captain Drake of all of us.

Nobody said anything at first because we were all still giggling and murmuring amongst ourselves. But then I decided to step forward, because it certainly looked an interesting activity. To my astonishment, Lady Sarah stepped forward, too, dropped a curtsy, and said, “I’ll do it, too.”

The Queen blinked in surprise and then gestured us over. Lady Jane smirked at the girl next to her—and then looked sour when she saw the rapt expression on Drake’s face, as he stared at Lady Sarah. I thought Captain Derby looked fairly stupid as well. And the two shipwrights seemed as stunned as rabbits facing a fox at the sight of a damask-clad, red-curled lady of the Court advancing on them, pulling on her gloves.

I hurried after her, only I’d forgotten my gloves so I had to manage without.

“Ready, steady, go!” cried Captain Derby.

The shipwrights started turning their winch, which gradually wound in the rope attached to the Spanish galleon model and pulled their ship through the water.

Sarah and I had a bit of trouble because Sarah was trying to turn the winch one way and I was turning the other, but once we sorted that out, and the English race-built galleon started being pulled through the water, too, it was easy. We even caught up with the Spanish galleon because our ship moved more easily through the water—then fell back a bit because we were still arguing. But then, with everyone spurring us on, we stopped talking, turned the winch together, and our ship got to the other side of the pond first!

Everyone cheered and clapped, and Lady Sarah curtsied prettily, standing in front of me so that Captain Drake would get the full benefit of her breathlessness as he settled up with Mr. Hatton.

“Very impressive indeed, Captain Drake,” said the Queen, still laughing and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. “And I lost a shilling to Mr. Hawkins, backing your strong young shipwrights—I should have had more faith.”

We then continued to another quay, where a very narrow two-masted ship was moored. We went up the gangplank, handed along by pigtailed sailors, and there on the deck was a table laid with a magnificent feast! A big, sullen-looking boy was sitting in the ropes above, waving a rattle to keep the seagulls away.

I could feel the ship rocking gently on the water. I thought it was quite a pleasant, soothing motion but some of the other girls looked a little queasy. The Queen didn’t mind, though. She sat in a chair with the Cloth of Estate over it and the rest of us sat wherever we liked. Lady Sarah laughed as prettily as a silver bell when Captain Drake brought her a plate of little pies and carven potherbs. I looked away—it was quite sick-making.

That was when I noticed a mouse pottering gently along the deck beside the rail, its little nose quivering at the smell of all the food laid on the table. Nobody likes rats, but I don’t mind mice—although I’m probably the only Maid of Honour
ever
who isn’t terrified of them. I elbowed Mary to look because I didn’t want her to miss the fun.

Sure enough, as Lady Sarah caught sight of the mouse she let out a terrible shriek, jumped up, and stood teetering on her bench, squealing like a stuck pig.

Lady Jane sneered; then, when she saw what Sarah was staring at, she screamed as well. Everybody else shrieked for all they were worth, except me and Mary—who doesn’t like mice but has some sense. And the Queen and the men, of course.

Captain Drake spun on his heel, his hand flying to his sword. Then he took in Lady Sarah perched on the bench, pulling her skirts around her, and the mouse looking curiously up at her, whiskers twitching. In one movement he swept off his velvet cap and threw it over the mouse.

“What in God’s name … !” bellowed the Queen.

“Only a little waif, Your Majesty,” said Drake. He went over and picked up his hat with its little
captive and showed the mouse to the Queen. Then he turned to Lady Sarah and said in his soft Devon burr, “Will I kill it for you, my lady, or let it go?”

Lady Sarah’s cheeks were very pink. “Thank you for rescuing me, Captain,” she gasped. “But please don’t kill it.”

Drake bowed, went to the side of the ship nearest the dock, and emptied out the mouse and its droppings onto dry land.

The Queen smiled and clapped, so we all did, too. “Well thrown, Captain!” she declared. “What excellent aim. Do you play at bowls?”

“I like a game now and then, Your Majesty,” Drake replied, smiling.

“Then you must teach
me
to throw straight,” said the Queen. “Alas, it is an art I have never yet mastered.”

“Which is just as well when she’s throwing a slipper at us!” I muttered to Mary, who snickered.

“If it can be done, Your Majesty, I will do it,” said Drake tactfully, and he bowed to the Queen and again to Lady Sarah, who had sat down gracefully on her bench once more.

Neither Captain Drake nor Captain Derby seemed to mind Sarah’s being such a ninny. Drake fetched her
more food while Derby fetched her more wine. Drake called on the minstrels at the back of the ship to play a tune she liked, while Derby showed her a brilliantly coloured bird with a big beak that came from New Spain, and liked to sit on his shoulder and eat nuts. He called it a popinjay. Then Drake started pointing to bits of the ship, like the ropes and the mast, telling her the proper names.

Lady Jane was watching all this and scowling. Suddenly she gulped and ran to the side of the ship, looking quite green. Then she leaned over and was sick.

“Oh dear,” moaned Mary, stumbling to the side herself and doing the same.

“They say an eel’s tail eaten raw and no beer for a week will settle an ailing stomach, dear Lady Jane,” Sarah said happily. Then she turned to Captain Drake. “I love ships,” she said, simpering. “My uncle took me on one of his merchant venturers when I was small and I even climbed up those rope ladders there to the little platform thing. My father was quite shocked when he found out.”

“Ah, you climbed the ratlines to the fighting top,” murmured Drake, seeming fascinated by Sarah’s revelation. “How clever of you!”

Sarah looked delighted. “The Ship’s Master
offered to take me as a cabin boy, when I was older—until my uncle explained who I was,” she confided. “I was quite a tomboy back then.”

I nudged Mary at this because I couldn’t imagine it at all. And seeing Captain Drake’s eyes stray back down to Sarah’s chest, I could see he was having trouble imagining it, too. But poor Mary didn’t smile. She was holding her stomach and looking unhappy. In fact, I think me and Lady Sarah and the sailors were the only ones who really enjoyed that meal.

Afterwards, it was time for us to go back ashore, which felt very strange for a minute. Now that the tide was high enough, they had brought the galley round to collect the Queen from the dockside, so we went straight over from the quay to the main watersteps.

The crowd was waiting to wave us goodbye as we climbed into the galley. Her Majesty was already under her awning, waving and smiling again when it happened: as Lady Sarah picked up her skirts, ready to climb aboard, a rope that had been lying on the ground suddenly tightened against her leg. She swayed, wobbled, waved her arms like a Dutch windmill—and fell over the side of the watersteps, right into the Thames!

There was pandemonium. Everyone ran about. Sarah threshed her arms in the water and screamed like a banshee. I observed that Lady Jane was staring innocently into space—right next to the other end of the rope. But nobody else had noticed because they were all either squalling or shouting advice.

Next moment, there was the sound of running feet. Captain Drake pounded by, stripping off his doublet and sword belt as he went, then he jumped into the muddy water in his shirt and hose.

Sarah’s skirts were dragging her down and she was screaming and spluttering dreadfully. She grabbed Captain Drake when he reached her and they both went under. When they surfaced, Sarah seemed a bit dazed. Drake had her caught from behind, with his arm around her neck. He pulled her steadily over to the dock wall. Hawkins was there, passing down a rope on a pulley. Drake quickly tied it in a complicated way around Lady Sarah’s waist and shoulders and then shouted to the shipwrights on the quay to haul on the rope. Up came Sarah out of the water, covered in weed and looking like a drowned rat. Captain Drake shouted something else, caught another rope, and used it to walk up the wall in a rather dashing way, so that he was on shore, ready to catch the
half-fainting Lady Sarah in his arms, as the men winched her down again.

Mrs. Champernowne was there, too, with a shawl and a pair of snips to cut Lady Sarah’s stay laces so she could breathe properly.

I gave Lady Jane another hard stare, but by then she was nowhere near the rope that had tripped Sarah, so I couldn’t say anything. Lady Sarah was in a terrible state, and though she does exaggerate, I think being half-drowned is enough to upset anyone! Her damask gown and her stays were ruined of course, and, while she had taken no real hurt from the muddy water, she was very cold and wet.

Captain Drake carried Sarah aboard the Queen’s galley, where he laid her on some cushions. Mrs. Champernowne chafed Sarah’s hands and thanked him very graciously. The Queen, who had witnessed the drama, summoned the Captain. As he kneeled before her, she said, “Thank you for saving the life of our Maid of Honour, Captain Drake. Devon must breed very quick-thinking men.”

“Aye, Your Majesty,” Captain Drake responded. “If we are not quick of thought, the sea takes us. And it was an honour to assist one of your ladies.”

The Queen smiled, pleased with the answer, and held out her hand so he could kiss it.

“Please, Ma’am,” ventured Drake, “may I have the greater honour of attending Your Majesty even unto Greenwich?”