In the Shadow of Shakespeare (27 page)

 “Sir,
it was the Navarre I left from France.”  She carefully reached in her
pocket and pulled out a worn letter, handing it to Walsingham.  He
snatched the letter and stood by the fire reading.

After
a moment he looked towards her.  “The note is signed by the Duke of
Valois  asking a Lady Blanchett to release you to England to gather
intelligence.  Because of your impeccable breeding and knowledge of English.”

 “Sir,
the duke’s habits are strange.  I could no longer stand to be in
court.  I have released myself of my bonds of mine own accord.”  She
hid her face behind a lace hanky.

 “Guliet!” 

He
instantly appeared at the door.  Alice looked at Guliet carefully. 
There was something strange about him that she could not quite place.

 “Bring
me a copy of the letter with the Duke of Valois’ signature.  I have it in
the study in the wooden box.”

 “Sir,
I beseech you,” Alice began, “The Catholics are becoming cruel and
cunning.  They know longer seek to know the message of Christ.  They
are immersed in adornment and power.  It is my only hope to have peace.”

 “And
of what of your religion, my Lady?”

 “I
lean towards the pure.”

 “You
are a Puritan then?”

 “It
seems to be a comforting middle ground.”

Walsingham
nodded, engrossed in her answer.  “I also seek the pure in matters.”

He
no longer gripped the arm of his chair and his eyes had softened. 

 “This
country has been divided perchance from religious struggles, but, it has given
us an opportunity to become strong.  Our queen plays it well.  She is
the Virgin Spectacle, remnant of the old religion, yet, holding to the new
Anglican faith.  She walks a fine line, our queen.  And although she
is tolerant of other faiths, it is the Catholic plotters who grieve her most.”

 “And
Baines sir?”

 “We
believe that Baines is working for Archbishop Whitgift.  As you know a
member of our Privy Council.  The same faith as our queen, and she pits us
against eachother.”  He frowned.  “And Whitgift has no use for the
theatre either. He believe it is the devil’s staging ground.”

Guliet
returned with the letter.  Walsingham carefully compared the note to
Alice’s, scrupulously inspecting the two signatures.  After what seemed an
eternity to Alice, he looked up, face impassive.  “It is the duke’s
signature.”  He handed the two letters to Guliet.  Guliet turned and
winked at Alyce.  She suppressed a smile and smoothed the wrinkles in her
gown.

 “I
commend you for discovering Baines, Lady.  I am sure it was at Master
Marlowe’s bequest.  Are you in love with him?”

Her
face grew red at such a bold inquiry.  “I have grown fond of him. 
Sir.”

 “He
has a certain skill I suppose.  The playmaker that he is.  Very
fanciful.  A delight to the ladies.”

 “It
is my suit to help the realm, Sir.  I think naught of my
own…entanglements.”

 “I
would advise ye to think first of this one my lady.  Master Marlowe is a
most cunning spy, one of my best.  He walks freely in all manner of
circles.  You have been advised.”

Walsingham
stood and nodded towards her.  “My Lady.”  He then turned to the
fire. 

Alice
watched him for several moments, realizing she had been dismissed. She felt a
cold fear creep over her like a fall frost.

 “Sir? 
What am I to do about Baines then?”

Walsingham
turned his face from the fire.

 “Go
to him as promised.  Explain to him the nature of this libel note pinned
to almost every door in London.  Watch his reaction.  He has already
confided in you, and he will again.”  With that said he again turned
towards the fire.

Alice
felt like sinking to the floor in despair.  She was in no mood to rush
across England again.  And she hardly knew who to trust anymore, after
Walsingham’s disclosure about Kit. 

She
walked through the larger room, and secrets seemed to spin themselves out in
corners.  Guliet opened the door and followed her out, urgently
whispering: “The Anchor, my Lady.  Tonight.  We shall meet at the
tavern.” 

He
quickly stepped inside, and Alice was left alone.

The
sky had turned to grey mist and the air felt pregnant with rain. 
Blackbirds pecked in the grass of the spacious lawn.

She
walked to the post where her horse was reined and noticed Walsingham watching
from the window.  He disappeared from the window and walked out the front
door towards her.  Her horse stamped impatiently as the spymaster watched
her take the reins from the post. 

 “I
have further thoughts.  We shall go to court, my Lady.  Elizabeth
will be wont to meet with you.”

Alice
held the reins in her hand.  The horse snuffled for a bit of sugar, and
she patted his nose.  Walsingham stepped forward and his long, lean
fingers deftly grabbed the reins and tied them again to the post. 

“There
is a banquet at St. James Palace.  In a fortnight we a light for
court.” 

“And
if I say…Nay?”

He
leaned back observing her, inviting a vague terror as he silently stood there
with the misty air between them. 

 “There
is Topcliffe to deal with lady.  I dare say he is not as welcoming as I.”

He
turned and went into his manor, and all that Alice could think of was chicken
bones and burning offal.

Chapter 34

The
lights lit up the windows of the Mermaid Tavern, casting their brightness into
the shadows outside.  Pulling open the heavy pine doors, Alice entered the
tavern.  Kit, Aaron, and Guliet sat at a far table in a corner. 

Alice
sat next to Kit.  “I feel as though I’ve entered the theatre with such a
performance as that.” She said.

Aaron
stood and bowed deeply.  “My lovely, you have. Is not she a sweet chuck,
Guliet?”

 “Aye. 
She ‘tis.  But betrothed to Marlowe she is.  Pity.”

 “But
how did Walsingham not notice you Aaron?” Alice said.

 “He
knows only my outline, not the face.  He does not trouble himself with
things that he need not look closely at.  And look, are not Guliet and I
doubles?  He is my twin.”  He grasped Guliet around the shoulders.

Alice
carefully studied the pair.  Indeed, they did resemble each other with an
uncanny likeness – the same curly hair, the same dimple. 

 “As
you and Master Marlowe,  Alice.”

Kit
smiled.

 “Speaketh
your mind now Alice,” Kit said. “did Walsingham not lure and bait you?”

 “Yes. 
He did.  I was afraid for my life.”

 “Did
he not stand at the fire during his famous dismissal of ye?  The beard of
that man must be tarnished in soot with all the dismissalings he doth do.”
 Kit said.

 “Aye,” 
Aaron said.  “And speaketh of his smoldering beard – his hair naught catch
flame yet is a wonder.”

 “’His
air hath caught a flame,” replied Guliet.  That is why he wears it shorn
under a Puritan cap.”

The
men laughed, and Alice allowed her eyes to graze over Kit.  She felt his
searching stare.

 “Truth
be told now, Alice.  What say Walsingham?”  He asked softly.

 “He
said enough.”

 “Sweet
chuck, tellest me.”  He rubbed her palm with his thumb. 

 “He
threatened me.  Threatened me with Topcliffe.”  She put her hands to
her throat, as if to ease a binding.

He
gently took her hands from her throat. “’Tis all talk.  Fear not.”

She
looked down at his hands.  They were rough and brown.  “He said we are
to go to court.     

Kit’s
eyes grew wide.  “Court?  When?”

 “A
fortnight.”

 “A
fortnight.”  A shadow passed over his face and his eyes grew dim. 

 “What
say
you
now?”  She said.

 “’Tis
naught to say.  I shalt be there at court Alice.  Try not to read
me.”

Chapter 35

Alice
had tossed and turned all night, knowing full well what Walsingham was up
too.  He wanted her to perform; he wanted her to be in Queen Elizabeth’s
graces.  He was testing her to see if she had ever been in the English
court, or any court. 

Today
would be a day of presentation.  And acting. 

He
also had seen her with Kit.  There could be no other explanation. 
Walsingham was planning his counter move against his own intelligencer. 
He was parlaying for position.  Perhaps he would use this knowledge to get
Kit to do what he wanted, or perhaps he was just collecting information. 

They
had left in a steel gray dawn.  But finally the sun had spilled across the
horizon and the day had broken open into rays of golden sunshine.  Alice opened
carriage shade to catch the dew on the grass and dream of better things than
where she was at now.

 Walsingham
sat on the opposite seat watching her, as usual.  She was plagued with an
uneasy wit that wished to do nothing but counter-balance him and put him in his
place.  But she simply smiled at him and contented herself to look at the
window. 

The
palace reared its head after they had rounded a turn in the road and the
carriage drew nearer as if in a dream.  They hit a rough spot and bumped
along for a little distance over a section filled with rocks and
potholes. 

She
lifted a handkerchief to her face, breathing in deeply its scent of
lavender.  As the palace came closer, the twin towers flanking either side
of the great doors became visible.  Small figures appeared from the side
of the palace and moved in a hurried pace towards the great doors. 

She
lay back on the cushions.  Walsingham had his face turned from the palace,
and was looking in the opposite direction. 
What do you see?

 “What
am I to do in this place?” she said.

 “Do
lady?”  He left the words waft weightless in the air, left to evaporate
like the morning dew. 

 “You
are threatening me with Topcliffe.”

The
smile that spread on his pockmarked face did not touch his eyes.  Alice
wondered if anything touched his eyes. His soul.  Or if he had a
soul.  Shrewdness and aversion were his game and now she had been caught
up in it. 

The
carriage wheel hit an unusually large bump and the carriage jolted and rocked
from side to side.  Alice bumped her head against the side and tried to
regain composure by smoothing her silk gown.  She clenched the cloth of
the gown as her thoughts swam and the dizziness subsided leaving her with the
sick residue of oncoming headache. 

 “We
are wont to dismount here.”  Walsingham smiled as he held the door open
for her.

She
stepped down from the carriage and a hand instantly appeared holding hers,
helping her descend.  The hand taker was dressed in green velvet trimmed
with brocade.  He smelled faintly of rose and musk.  His forehead was
damp with moisture and a slash appeared alongside one of his cheeks and
disappeared into his dark hair.  He bowed before Walsingham.

 “Our
queen awaits ye sir.” 

Walsingham
nodded and placed Alice’s arm in between his, patting it as smiling attendants
opened the doors, and they were admitted into the Great Hall.  The doors
closed behind them and they were subjected to a sumptuous banquet of the
senses: the flickering light from hundreds of candles illuminating the silks and
brocades of attendants, courtiers and ladies in waiting; the thick smell of
musk and lavender on throbbing pulse points; the scent of roast duck and pork,
sage and chervil; the rustling of silks and the languid movement of bodies
dressed to display prestige and charm.  Musicians coaxed melodious notes
from their instruments; simple little quartets set to catch the court in a
joyous mood.  In the middle of the gathering sat the queen.  

It
was a magical stage and Alice held her breath.

All
eyes turned towards them as the music stopped and a hush fell over the crowd.

 “Ahhhh.” 
Queen Elizabeth stood.

Her
face was an impenetrable mask of white, and her eyes were richly brown and and
devouring.  The gown matched her red hair which was gathered on top of her
head and tressed with diamonds and rubies.  Alice heard the woosh of her
gown as she walked towards them. 

Alice
deeply courtsied.  The queen regarded her quizzically.

 “Ye
know of the Duke of Valois, Lady?”  She said this without a hint of
malice, but as you would ask an old friend of some common matter. 

 “Yes,
my queen.”

The
queen looked to the court.  All eyes were still upon them.  With a
dismissive gesture of her hand, she waved them into animation again.  “Get
with your merriments.”

The
sound of the instruments began to play, this time with more gusto.  The
bassoons leapt into a jig, the queen’s favorite.