The Traitor's Daughter (34 page)

A seaman was coming up the gangway from the quay. Her eye was drawn to him because of his slow pace, head down, so different than the briskly moving crew. He wore heavy sea boots, a scarred leather jerkin, homespun breeches the color of mud, and a floppy hat that covered his forehead and eyes. He seemed older, a veteran, independent, taking his time. Was this the tardy pilot the captain was waiting for? If so, they would soon be underway. She turned to look for the captain. Last time she saw him he was berating a crewman on the quarterdeck. Not there now.

When she turned back the veteran seaman stood right in front of her. She gasped. “Father!”

“Shh!” he warned, a finger to his lips. He jerked his chin toward a recess among the stacked crates.

She was stunned, but took his lead and stepped farther back into the shadows. He came with her.

“Kate.” His voice was warm, urgent. “I could not let you go without saying good-bye.”

Her heart leapt. She had never been so glad to see anyone! “But . . . how did you know I was here?”

“I am an old hand. I know these quays.” He glanced around. The crew tramped past, oblivious. He turned back to her. “They tell me this ship sails for Scotland.”

Caught in her lie, she could not think what to say.

He held up his hand as if to forestall her reply. “I don't know why you are going there. I know it's best that I do
not
know. Best for you, for everyone. I only want to tell you how proud I am of you. Because I know . . . well, I suspect . . . the thing you cannot tell me.”

Her breath caught.
He knows.

Shouts came from the foredeck.

Her father stiffened. “They're readying to cast off. I must go.”

No! There was so much to say! “Father—”

Before she could speak another word he grabbed her hand, placing on her palm a small metal object. In the gloom she could not make out what it was. She took a step out into the feeble light of the lantern.

“A captain's whistle,” he said, coming to her side. “Pure gold. Her Majesty gave it to me years ago. It replaced mine of staghorn, which she had taken from me with these words: ‘I shall treasure it always, to remember what you risked for my sake.' I give you this now, Kate, deeply mindful of what you are risking for
all
our sakes.”

Tears shot to her eyes. She threw her arm around his neck. “Father.”

He held her. “God be with you,” he murmured.

More shouts. Boots stomped behind Kate. She turned.

“No passengers on deck, mistress.” It was the captain, coming toward her. “We're getting under way.”

“In a moment,” she insisted. “You have not your pilot yet.”

“Aye, he's just come aboard. Stewed, but aboard. So get yourself below now, if you please.”

“Wait, I . . . I have orders for my serving man here before he goes.”

He frowned, looking about. “What man?”

She turned. Her father was gone.

She scanned the gangway for him, and the quay. No sign of him. She was alone. She raised her eyes to the city, its flickering lights, its dark roofs and towers. The black sky above.

But the night no longer felt cold. She turned to go below. Smiling inside, hoarding her father's words, she held the golden whistle tight, warmed by the small flame of happiness he had kindled in her heart.

Q&A WITH BARBARA KYLE

 

One of the most intriguing characteristics of the Tudor period is its predominance of women rulers—from Mary I, known as “Bloody Mary” in her own time, to her half sister Elizabeth I, who ruled so cleverly for forty-three years, to their cousin Mary, Queen of Scots, whose life was as dramatic as an opera. My Thornleigh books have featured all three.

Also, the Tudor era fascinates me, and so many readers, because the actions of these larger-than-life personalities like Elizabeth and her father, Henry VIII, had a tremendous impact on the people of England and the world. One example is Henry's extraordinary creation of a national church just so he could divorce his first wife and marry Anne Boleyn. Another is Elizabeth's famous rivalry with Mary, Queen of Scots, keeping her under house arrest for nineteen years and eventually executing her. And then, of course, there was Elizabeth's brave stand against the mighty Spanish Armada, and England's amazing victory.

I call crucial events like these the “hinges of history” and I set my Thornleigh books during these times to test my characters' mettle as they're forced to make hard choices about loyalty, duty, family, and love.

 

 

I'm meticulous about being faithful to the historical record whenever my fictional Thornleigh family members interact with real people of the day. From my research I'll know, say, what Queen Elizabeth did in 1554 and where she did it, and around that I weave the activities of my created characters. For example,
The Queen's Captive
begins with twenty-year-old Princess Elizabeth's captivity in the Tower of London at the command of her half sister, Queen Mary, and Elizabeth's terror that she would be executed—all true—and into that crisis I bring Honor and Richard Thornleigh and their seafaring son, Adam, in their mission to save her.

 

 

Education, in both cases. The royal women in Tudor times were exceptionally well-educated. Queen Elizabeth, for example, had studied Greek, theology, philosophy, mathematics, geometry, history, and literature, and could converse fluently with foreign ambassadors in French, Italian, and Latin. Her writings are elegant and erudite. She was also an accomplished musician. But the vast majority of ordinary women were ill-educated. And all women, even of the aristocracy, were barred from universities and, of course, from all posts of official power: government, the church, and the military.

 

 

Tudor England was a time of extraordinary energy that burst out in bold voyages of exploration and a brilliant flowering of literature. But it was also a time when the English people were gripped by fear of invasion by France or Spain, the two great powers of the day. Religious paranoia fed a lot of the fear, since Elizabeth's England was Protestant while most of Europe was Catholic. So alongside the extraordinary positive energy ran a deep mistrust about foreigners, an atmosphere in which networks of spies infiltrated suspect groups, and authorities imprisoned and tortured suspected enemies of the state. Sounds to me a lot like our own time.

 

 

Yes, definitely. My writing style is cinematic. More important, my twenty years of acting in theater, film, and television gave me a bone-deep sense of dramatic structure, and a focus on getting deeply inside my characters' motivations: their deepest desires and fears. Historians and academics may examine the actions of historical players from a detached viewpoint, whereas actors work from the inside out: the motives that
drive
people to take the actions they do.

 

 

Hearing from readers. I cherish every email that readers send, and I reply to every one. It means a lot to me when people take the time to let me know that they've enjoyed the books and how the Thornleigh family's challenges, sufferings, and triumphs have moved them. That interaction—connecting with the readers I write for—makes my work a joy. I invite readers to get in touch through my Web site,
www.BarbaraKyle.com
, or to follow me on Twitter @BKyleAuthor. I'll happily reply.

B
ARBARA
K
YLE,
a classically trained actor, enjoyed a successful career in Canadian television and theater before turning her hand to writing fiction. She and her husband live in Ontario, where she teaches popular writing seminars and workshops. She welcomes visitors at her Web site:
www.barbarakyle.com
.

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