In the Shadow of Shakespeare (28 page)

The
queen smiled and turned towards Alice.

 “I
think,” Alice said. “That the duke is much regarded amongst his people. 
The people of France love him, and our quite loyal.  He is very concerned
with the papacy, but order and harmony among the people are his main concern.”

The
queen sighed and looked towards the court.  Her eyes roamed the faces that
stood at various stations in the Great Hall.  They pretended to dance and
make quiet conversation, but they were trained to understand the undercurrents
of their queen, and sense whatever that might mean to them.  The ladies in
waiting whispered behind their hands, and looked to the color of Alice’s dress,
and the way her hair shown in the light.

 “This
is information any intelligencer can give me.”  The queen put her finger
under her chin and gazed at Alice.  “I am wont to know how the man
conducts himself.”

Alice
caught the eye of Walsingham.  He had made his way to the corner with
other members of the queen’s Privy Council.  She understood suddenly that
this move had been choreographed long before the short meeting she had had with
him.  She thought again of Topcliffe, the queen’s psychopathic executioner.

 “Let
me make myself clear lady,”  The queen lay her finger on Alice’s wrist, as
to feel her pulse point.  Her heart began to beat faster, and the smell of
musk burst through the air.

 “Perchance
ye understand…Now.”  The queen’s eyes were always kind, but there was the
solid rock of England behind them.  “I would like to know of his
appetites.”

Alice’s 
breath caught in her mouth and she laughed.  Her eyes bounced over the
musicians who now were merrily playing a minuet.  To the right of the
musicians stood a group of men – the poets.  Poets in the queen’s
favor.  She made out Kit in the small gathering.  He had his arm
around a beauty with glistening black hair.  He did not look at her.

Alice
watched him a moment.  “He enjoys verse which speaks of satyrs, nymphs,
and young folk.  He delights when he and his entourage chase one another
through the forest glen.  There is much tanglement after the chase which
results in rolling in the dew, and sighing…that is all my queen.  Oh, and
I almost forgot,” Kit had his arm dangled carelessly over the woman’s
shoulder.  His finger grazed slowly over the top of her bosom. 
“There is a device he uses, perchance a sheep’s bladder?”  She frowned, as
if in remembrance.  “That was all I knew of before I was dismissed from
the chamber.  There were many young boys.”

The
queen dropped her wrist.  “As I suspected.”  She clapped her hands,
and all eyes were riveted on her.  “A dance.”  There was a roar of
approval from the court.  She took a few steps from Alice, and her ladies
in waiting floated towards her.  She suddenly turned.

 “He
does not like women?”

 “No,
my queen.  Not at all.”

The
music spun around her and she was caught up in the throng of the smell of civet
and rustling cloth.  A young courtier took her hand lightly and
bowed.  She smiled and declined.  The figures began moving to the
dance, and Kit stood at the tail end of the line of people with his dark haired
beauty.

Chapter 36

She
entered the tavern and found the men huddled in the corner drinking their
ale.  Alice sat at the table. 

Kit
fiddled with a torn piece of parchment in front of him. 

 “It
hath been decided that you should go with Aaron to converse with Baines.” Kit
said.

 “Thanks
for deciding for me.”

“Please,
I knowest the way to safety, Lady.  That is why I came with Kit to the
residence of Walsingham.”  Aaron clearly wanted to diffuse the
tension.  He glanced from Alice to Kit.  “And we don’t trust Baines
with ye.” 

 “I’ve
managed so far.”  Alice got up from her seat and ordered a pint of ale
from the barmaid who drew the amber colored liquid from the keg.  The
barmaid had a large mole on her left cheek and was wearing a yellow scarf
wrapped around her head.  Alice thanked the woman and took the ale back to
the table. 

 “You
sent me to see Baines.  By myself, as I recall.”  She sipped her
ale. 

Kit
raised his eyebrows.  “He grows most savage, dear heart.  When he is
trapped he will seek to tear at what ever binds him.  He is not to be
trusted.  Especially with my most blessed.”  He held her hand under
the table. 

 “Another
game of yours Kit?”   Alice’s eyes were blazing.

Guliet
and Aaron looked at one another.

 “Game,
Lady?,” Kit said.  “Perchance you can speak your mind on this
matter?  It is troubling you.” 

 “Come,
come Aaron.  I see a gentleman we know.  There, in the by the
window.  Sirrah!  Sir Toby!”  Guliet and Aaron stumbled over
benches to reach a drunk who was mumbling to himself in a corner.

Kit’s
eyes did not leave her face as he smoothed her palm with his thumb.  
“Naught is packed for you and Aaron.  Perchance we should pack them now?
It shall help your troubled mind.”

 “I
doubt if packing the horses shall help my troubled mind.  What do you want
with me Kit?  Why do you lead me on like this?”

 “Lead
you?  Why art thou so untrusting of me?”

 “You
are a spy.  You play doubles.”

 “I
know right from wrong in matters of love, my dear heart.  What has Sir
Francis said to make thou so bereft?”

 “He
says you have a child with Mare.  Mary.”

He
laughed so hard that everyone in the tavern turned to look.  He bent over
the table and whispered feverishly, “You believe the
spymaster
?”

 “Who
should
I believe?”  The ale was getting warm, and Alice drank down
the last of it.  She felt the warm glow spread through her innards.

 “Aye.” 
Kit turned to look around the room.  Everyone had gone back to talking
quietly amongst themselves.  “The spymaster pits spy against spy. 
That is how it is played Alice.  You must keep above it.  Sir Francis
has possibly more to lose than I.  He seeks the queen’s favor.”

 “And
you?  What do you seek?”

 “My
love.  My art.  The two are one, Alice.”

 
“Why should I believe you?”

He
gazed at her, musing and still, and a silence fell between them like softly
falling snow.   

“’Tis
not a matter of belief.  ‘Tis a matter of knowing.  You
know,
Alice.  I can feel that.  The day in the garden.  Remember, my
love?  I saw you standing in the window?”

 “It
wasn’t a dream then.” 

 “I
held a flower for you.  A flower through time.  It ‘twas not a
shadow, ‘twas the gift of knowing.  What more can I say?”

“And
of the dark haired woman at court?”

Kit
looked away from her.  “Thou may believe, or thou may not.  “Tis no
matter.  We must play this thing out, my love.  There is naught else
to do.”  He banged his fist on the table. “Hadeus!”

 “Aye!,” 
Aaron and Guliet helped the drunk to his feet.  “We seek the service of
all good things Sirrah, and this one in his cups!”  The drunk belched and
sat heavily upon the bench in front of him.  With a great sigh he lay his
head on the table and began snoring. 

 “Aaron,
go with Alice to Baines.  Guliet, I thank you for your service.”  Kit
held out a handful of coins.  Guliet shook his head.

 “’Tis
no need of that Master Marlowe.”  He bowed deeply, then scratched his
head.  “On second thought, I shall take them in good stead.” 

Kit
chuckled.  “In the matter of money thou art not fickle clown.  Go
too!  Walsingham will be waiting for ye.  He will think ye ‘ha fallen
into a bush.”

Guliet
took the coins, and hugged Alice.  “Lady, Godspeed you, and keep you from
harm.”  He left.  Alice looked after him.

 “I
would have never thought…”

 “Nay. 
There is much you don’t know Alice.  ‘Tis better that way.  But ye
know enough.” 

She
turned on him.  “How dare you say that!  When I have done nothing but
help you!”

 “In
matters of state – ” 

 “State! 
I could care less about
state.
”

Kit
stood and fastened his cloak.  “There is the matter of the play, Lady,
that I must attend to.  I am obliged to keep my eyes and ears open. 
I am but a thread upon that gown.”

She
realized he was talking about the dress that Queen Elizabeth was wearing in her
portrait.  Woven into the gown of
The Rainbow Portrait
were a
multitude of ears and eyes, the very symbols of surveillance.  Elizabeth
could count on her innumerable intelligencers to protect her and her
realm. 

 “You’re
more then a thread, more then a pawn,” Alice whispered.  “You are, will
be, the greatest playwright that ever lived.”

As
if listening to a muted jest, Kit cocked his head and laughed.  “Who shall
grant me that favor, you Lady?”  He smoothed his black hair.  “If I,
the playmaker am to write, I must be in the right.  Aye, my Alice?”

She
slapped him across the face. “Stop making puns!  Shed this cloak of intelligencing,
it will only get you killed!”

Aaron
lightly touched her elbow.  “Lady, we must go.  The hour grows late.”

Alice
shook him off.

 Kit
touched his face where she had slapped him.  “I am afraid that I have been
woven too tight, my Lady.  The thread that binds me through and through
will unravel if ‘tis pulled.  I must protect England from her enemies.”

 “I’m
tired of your riddles.  Come, let’s go Aaron.  I grow weary of
this.” 

Kit’s
face grew dark and venomous, but after a few moments he softened.  “Always
the wretch upon the wheel I shall be with you woman.  Shalt you return to
me?”

“I
will think on it.”  She pulled her cloak around her.

 
He smiled weakly. “I need my Bellamira.”

“If
that’s all you need, you’re in trouble.” 

Aaron
looked at Kit and shrugged his shoulders, then he and Alice walked from the
tavern. 

Kit
ran a hand through his hair, and sat down at the table.  He fiddled with
the piece of parchment in front of him, taking a quill and a knife from a
pocket on his side. He began to whittle the tip of the quill.

“Always
the ending, Alice.  You seek the end,” He whispered to himself. 
“What of forever?”  The room grew quiet, and he looked around him.

“
Traitor
.”
Someone hissed.

He
quickly left before the crowd turned on him.

Chapter 37

Outside
the city center of London the wild countryside spilled before them.  The
cover of heavy darkness lay around the land.  Aaron chose a secret route
through the thickest trees where there was a small lane, well traveled, that
was hidden from view.  He rode in front, and soon the reassuring clomp of
hooves was the only sound they heard.

She
pulled up beside him.

 “How
long before we reach Baines?”

 “Half
a night.  Perchance more.  We must make as much haste as we are
able.  Then we will rest for the remainder.  Is that agreeable,
Lady?”

She
nodded her head, too tired for talk.  The feeling of dread was
overwhelming.  She felt like a pawn herself, acting out some plot she no
longer had any control over.  As the gnawing pain of doubt seeped into her
like venom, she began to distrust herself and her feelings.  She said
nothing to Aaron and the silence between them lingered.

Aaron
moved in his seat.

 “Lady?”

 “Please,
call me Alice, Aaron.  We are equals.”

He
laughed.  “Ah!  Two fools together, traveling.  We are equal in
foolery.”

She
looked at him. It was dark, but a bright moon illuminated him, turning him and
his horse into an apparition of ghostly blue.  

 “I
‘ha been searching for some time Alice.  I am alone now.  My family,
friends…all gone.” 

 “Gone?”

 “I
am a Jew, as you well know.  The Inquisitors in Spain…laid waste to my
people.”

 “I’m
sorry.”  She glanced at him and saw him cringe.  The painful thoughts
of the past impeding on the present.

 “Nay. 
Nay.  ‘Tis no time for sorrow, La – Alice.  ‘Tis no time.  I
will rot if I let the sorrow take me.  Henceforth, I am a fool!”  He
chuckled loudly.

Alice
said nothing. 

The
horses plodding turned into muted thuds upon the deeply layered leaves. 
The trees became thicker and the night wind blew through the leaves.

 “Mine
own wife…and daughter.  My daughter was all of three.  Were killed.”

He
had pulled the hood of his cloak over his head.

 “There
is nothing for me to say.”  She said.

 “Aye. 
There is naught to say, except we ‘ha our own inquisitor here.  In
England.  Whitgift has been using Baines as a pawn to set his trap.”