Honor in the Dust (18 page)

“Bring him forth.” Kyd smiled benevolently. “I'll bet you a hundred pounds that I can beat any man that you can put up.”

“Yes, let's have it,” the king said. “Who is this young fellow?”

“He's the son of the man you met, Claiborn Winslow, the keeper of the hawks.”

“Hmm. Doubly intriguing, then. Send for the boy.”

It did not take long before Stuart was brought before the king, his ironwood laminated longbow in hand.

Stuart was nervous, but the king eyed him favorably. “Fine-looking son you have here, Winslow. That's your bow?”

“Yes, sire, it is.”

“All right. Let's see what you can hit.”

The targets were set up, and men began to shoot. Obviously Kyd was an expert. He hit the center every time. Man after man did his best but was vanquished.

Finally the king said, “Well, young Winslow, you've stayed up with my master bowman.”

“Sire, if you'd move the targets back another hundred yards, we could make it interesting.” Stuart was in such awe of the king that he could hardly speak without stuttering.

The king looked surprised but then laughed. “Well, you're either a boaster or a better shot. We'll soon discover which. Move those targets back a hundred yards,” he called.

At this distance it was all Kyd could do to get the arrow into the target, and several fell short.

“All right, young Winslow,” King Henry said, “let's see you shoot.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Stuart notched an arrow, pulled it back, and it flew through the air and hit dead center. A cry went up.

“A hit!” the king cried. “I do declare a center hit!”

That was the beginning. Kyd hit the target at times, sometimes missed, but it seemed that day that Stuart Winslow could not miss.

The king said, “You draw a mighty bow, young fellow.”

“I made it myself, Your Majesty. It's a new way of making bows.”

“A new way?” The king was instantly fascinated. He obviously loved weapons, and he stood there while Stuart showed him how the woods had been glued together.

“It makes the bow very strong but flexible.”

The king studied the young man and said, “You're coming to court with me, young fellow. You're clearly not still wet behind
the ears, as your father fears. You are a man on the verge of greatness. You can help with my birds, and you can teach my armorer how to make these bows.”

Stuart stared at him in surprise, then bowed low. “Your Majesty, nothing would please me better.”

“You will leave with us when we resume our progress.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I'll be ready!”

“A young fellow moving into the life at court needs a few things.” Henry dug into the purse he kept at his side and produced several coins. “Get yourself some proper clothes.”

Stuart stared at the three gold sovereigns that the king placed in his hand and gasped. “Thank you, sire!”

Henry laughed and winked at a handsome man standing close by. He was not tall and was somewhat overweight, but he had a pleasing expression. “Take this young man under your wing, Clayton. See to it that he doesn't go wrong.”

“I will guard him from all temptations, my lord.” The man came to stand beside Stuart, saying, “Well, it seems I'm the keeper of your morals, Winslow. My name is Simon Clayton. Come along, and we'll begin your education. Let's fill our bellies, and then I'll introduce you to your new companions.”

Stuart was too stunned by the attention of the king to say much, and in truth there was little need for him to speak. Simon took him to the tables where food was laid out, and as they ate, he got Stuart's family history. He was a charming fellow.

After they had eaten, he said, “Come on, Stuart. My purse is getting somewhat flat. I must fatten it a little.” He rose and as they left the great hall, asked, “Do you like gaming?”

“Gaming? You mean playing games?”

Simon grinned at this. “I don't mean children's games. Do you like to make wagers?”

“I don't know, sir. I've never gambled—for money, at least.”

“Well, lucky for you, you have a great teacher.” Simon clapped Stuart on the shoulder; his smile was broad. “Now,
those three sovereigns the king gave you. How would you like to turn them into six sovereigns?”

“Why, that would be magic!”

“Come along, and I'll show you that I am a magician!” Simon laughed at the stunned expression on Stuart's face. “Keep your eye on me, Stuart. We'll get into a game, and when you see me squeeze my right earlobe, bet those three coins.”

“But I might lose them.”

“No, for I'm a magician! Trust me, and you'll see my magic.”

They made their way to a room from which came the sound of loud laughter. Simon pulled Stuart in and cried out, “Now, I've come to win all your money!”

The room was packed with men, most of them young, and a chorus of hoots followed Simon's challenge. A tall, lean man with a hawklike visage dominated the group. He had a pair of gimlet eyes, a trim brown breard, and glittering rings on eight of his fingers. “More ale!” he cried, fixing his eyes on Simon Clayton. “Who's your friend?”

“Stuart, this is Sir Leon Case, who loses money to me regularly. Gentlemen, this is Master Stuart Winslow, a new favorite of the Crown. The king has put me in charge of keeping him pure.”

Case laughed with the others. “I doubt you'll be able to manage that. But come, now, I need your money, Simon.” He picked up a pair of dice from the table and grinned wolfishly. “Put your money down, Clayton. I've got my eye on Ives's fine mare, and when I take your cash and buy her, I'll let you watch as I ride her.”

Stuart's gaze moved to Edith's son, who glared at him from across the table. The man didn't want him here, didn't want him anywhere near the court.
It must infuriate him, this newfound favor.
Stuart could not help the grin that edged his lips. When Ives found out that he was to leave with the king …

The game began. Stuart did not say a word. He had played a few games of dice with young friends, but never for money. As the game progessed, he studied the players and kept careful watch on Simon Clayton. Money changed hands rapidly, and Clayton was obviously the best player. Many of the players dropped out, and finally only Simon Clayton and Leon Case were locked in a fierce battle. The cash seemed to be evenly divided between them. Then Clayton rattled the dice in his left hand. “I feel lucky, Sir Leon.” He shoved all his money to the center of the table, saying, “I would advise you not to bet.”

Case stared at the money, then lifted his eyes to meet Clayton's gaze. “Your luck has just run out, Simon.” He counted out enough to meet the bet, then looked around the room with a thin smile. “You'd better get your money down. Clayton's going to lose!”

“No, I'm going to win.” He reached up and squeezed his right earlobe.

Stuart stared at Clayton but could not move. But Clayton gave him an urgent nod, and he reached into his purse and pulled out the three coins. He laid them down and heard Case say, “Better keep your money in your purse, youngster!”

“No, no, let him wager his coins,” said Ives, setting three gold sovereigns next to Stuart's on the table. His eyes glittered and he smiled, clearly thinking that he was about to take all Stuart had. Stuart's heart pounded. “I'll see his bet.”

Clayton ignored him. “Here's my little bit of magic!” He tossed the dice almost carelessly, it seemed, and when they came to rest, a silence fell over the group. Clayton laughed, “I warned you. Sorry to take your money, Sir Leon.” He scooped up the cash and fished out six sovereigns. “Here you are, young Winslow.”

Stuart stared at the six coins. He could not speak. He stared at Simon Clayton's face and when they had left the room, he whispered, “How did you do that?”

“I cheated.”

Stuart could only say, “But—that's wrong!”

“No, it's gambling. All good gamblers cheat, but I'm the best.” He laughed at the stunned expression on Stuart's face and said, “I'll show you how it's done later. If you're clever, you won't ever have to work. Just fleece the poor devils who don't have the secret of gambling down as I do!”

Grace, Claiborn, and Leah were staring at Stuart, all of them displeased.

“It's not a fit place for a young man to be,” Leah said.

“But I'll be serving the king.”

“He's not a man you wish to emulate,” Leah said, “and the court, as I have told you, is a terrible place. It's a place of temptation. Morals are almost nonexistent. I'm ashamed to tell you what goes on.”

Claiborn said, “I heard about your gambling, Son.”

Stuart blinked with surprise.
Ives
. “It's just a game, Father. There's no harm in it.”

“Yes, there is. I've seen many men lose everything because of cards and dice. Promise me you'll not gamble again.”

Stuart saw that his mother and his grandmother agreed with his father. “I don't see any real harm in it.”

“I beg you not to go, Stuart,” Lady Leah said. “You'll be putting yourself into an evil world.”

Grace and Claiborn added their voices but could not budge him. Stuart finally said, “The king has commanded me to go. I give you my word that I will avoid temptation. I promise it. I simply want to serve him. Prepare yourselves, for I shall depart with them.”

Stuart rode over the next day to say good-bye to Heather and to William Tyndale. His visit was not a success, for Heather was grieved.

“I wish you wouldn't go, Stuart. The court is a wicked place.”

“That's what my parents and grandmother said too.”

“You should listen to them.”

“I only want to be a king's man. Don't you see? This is my opportunity—my opportunity to go where life and change occurs. I'll be in the thick of it.”

The two argued until William Tyndale came in. He had been giving the boys a lesson in history, and when he heard what had happened he said, “I don't think you know what you're letting yourself in for, Stuart.”

“But the king is a religious man.”

Tyndale shook his head. “He's religious on his own terms. He will do as he pleases, our King Henry, in religious matters, no matter what the pope or anyone else says.”

Stuart shifted uncomfortably, for those he loved best were all opposed to the new life that lay before him. But he was excited by the prospects of life at court. And he could not shake the desire to answer Simon's offer to teach him all he knew about gambling. It was so easy! Think of what he could do with that kind of wealth!

In misery, he made his way back to Stoneybrook, muttering, “They all mean well, but they don't understand. There are bad things at court, but I won't give in to them. I'll simply make the most of the good and avoid what I should.”

A group of Queen Catherine's maids-in-waiting at the palace looked up as Stuart passed along the corridor. “Well, there's that handsome young master of the hawks,” one said, loud enough for him to hear. He glanced shyly in their direction, but his eyes skimmed over her and rested on another.

She was by far the most attractive of the queen's ladies-in-waiting. She had dark eyes and dark hair, and her figure was set off admirably by the expensive gown that she wore. She fixed her eyes on Stuart and asked, “What's your name, man? You
are
a handsome thing.”

“A little young for you,” the first one said, pouting now that the second speaker had clearly caught his eye.

Stuart, who had been headed back to the mews, stopped, uncertain whether they were sincerely interested in speaking with him or if they were merely toying with him. Amidst their finery he felt awkward in his plain work clothes. Deciding at last, he stepped forward, took off his hat, and bowed stiffly. “Yes, ladies, do you want me?”

“I'll have your name,” said the beauty.