Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 2: The Queen’s Fool, The Virgin’s Lover, The Other Queen. Philippa Gregory
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sight for a moment?’
‘The bishop knew that something was being planned. Everyone knew that something was being planned.’
He nodded. ‘Tom Wyatt was always indiscreet.’
‘He will pay for it. They are questioning him now.’
‘To discover who else is in the plot?’
‘To get him to name the Princess Elizabeth.’
Lord Robert pushed his fists on either side of the window frame, as if he would stretch the stone wide and fly free. ‘They have evidence against her?’
‘Enough,’ I said acerbically. ‘The queen is on her knees right now, praying for guidance. If she decides that it is God’s will that she should sacrifice Elizabeth, she has more than enough evidence.’
‘And Jane?’
‘The queen is fighting to save her. She has asked Jane to be taught the true faith. She is hoping that she will recant and then she can be forgiven.’
He laughed shortly. ‘The true faith is it, Mistress Boy?’
I flushed scarlet. ‘My lord, it’s only how everyone talks at court now.’
‘And you with them, my little conversa, my nueva cristiana?’
‘Yes, my lord,’ I said steadily, meeting his eyes.
‘What a bargain to put before a sixteen-year-old girl,’ he said. ‘Poor Jane. Her faith or death. Does the queen want to make a martyr of her cousin?’
‘She wants to make converts,’ I said. ‘She wants to save Jane from death and from damnation.’
‘And me?’ he asked quietly. ‘Am I to be saved, or am I a brand for the burning, d’you think?’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t know, my lord. But if Queen Mary follows the advice she is given, then every man whose loyalty is questionable will be hanged. Already the soldiers who fought in the rebellion are on the scaffolds at every corner.’
‘Then I had better read these books quickly,’ he said drily. ‘Perhaps a light will dawn for me. What d’you think, Mistress Boy? Did a light dawn for you? You and the true faith, as you call it?’
There was a hammering on the door and the guard swung the door open. ‘Is the fool to leave?’
‘In a moment,’ Lord Robert said hastily. ‘I haven’t paid him yet. Give me a moment.’
The guard glared at us both suspiciously, shut the door and locked it again. There was a brief painful second of silence.
‘My lord,’ I burst out, ‘do not torment me. I am as I always was. I am yours.’
He took a breath. Then he managed to smile. ‘Mistress Boy, I am a dead man,’ he said simply. ‘You should mourn me and then forget me. Thank God you are not the poorer for knowing me. I have placed you as a favourite in the court of the winning side. I have done you a favour, my little lad. I am glad I did it.’
‘My lord,’ I whispered earnestly. ‘You cannot die. Your tutor and I looked in the mirror and saw your fortune. There was no doubt about it, it cannot end here. He said that you are to die safe in your bed, and that you will have a great love, the love of a queen.’
For a moment he frowned as he heard the words, then he gave a little sigh, as a man tempted by false hope. ‘A few days ago I would have begged to hear more. But it is too late now. The guard will come. You have to go. Hear this. I release you from your loyalty to me and to my cause. Your work for me is finished. You can earn a good living at court and then marry your young man. You can be the queen’s fool in very truth and forget me.’
I stepped a little closer. ‘My lord, I will never be able to forget you.’
Lord Robert smiled. ‘I thank you for that, and I will be glad of whatever prayers you offer up at the hour of my death. Unlike most of my countrymen, I don’t really mind what prayers they are. And I know that they will come from the heart, and yours is a loving heart.’
‘Shall I carry any message from you?’ I asked eagerly. ‘To Mr Dee? Or to the Lady Elizabeth?’
He shook his head. ‘No messages. It is over. I think that I will see all my fellows in heaven very soon. Or not, depending on which of us is right about the nature of God.’
‘You can’t die,’ I cried, anguished.
‘I don’t think they will leave me much choice,’ he said.
I could hardly bear his bitterness. ‘Lord Robert,’ I whispered. ‘Can I do nothing for you? Nothing at all?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘See if you can persuade the queen to forgive Jane and Elizabeth. Jane because she is innocent of everything, and Elizabeth because she is a woman who should live. A woman like her was not born to die young. If I thought I could leave you with that commission and you could succeed, I could die in some peace.’
‘And for you?’ I asked.
He put his hand under my chin again, bent his dark head and kissed me gently on the lips. ‘For me, nothing,’ he said softly. ‘I am a dead man. And that kiss, Mistress Boy, my dear little vassal, that kiss was the last I will ever give you. That was goodbye.’
He turned away from me and faced the window and shouted: ‘Guard!’ for the man to unlock the door. Then there was nothing for me to do but to leave him, in that cold room, looking out into the darkness, waiting for the news that his scaffold was built, the axeman was waiting, and that his life was over.
I went back to court in a dazed silence and when we went to Mass four times a day I dropped down to my knees and prayed in earnest that the God who had saved Mary should save my Lord Robert too.
My mood of exhausted pessimism suited the queen. We did not live like a victorious court in a victorious city. It was a court hanging on a thread of its own indecision, sick with worry. Every day, after Mass and breakfast, Queen Mary walked by the side of the river, her cold hands dug deep in her muff, her steps hastened by the cold wind blowing her skirts forward. I walked behind her with my black cape wrapped tightly around my shoulders and my face tucked into the collar. I was glad of the thick hose of my fool’s livery and glad of my warm jacket. I would not have dressed as a woman in those wintry days for all the Spanish princes in the empire.
I knew she was troubled and so I kept silent. I dogged her footsteps two steps behind her because I knew she liked the comfort of a companion’s tread on the frozen gravel at her back. She had spent so many years alone, she had taken so many lonely walks, that she liked to know that someone was keeping vigil with her.
The wind coming off the river was too cold for her to walk for long, even with a thick cape and a fur collar at her neck. She turned on her heel and I nearly bumped into her as I ploughed forward, my head down.
‘I beg pardon, Your Grace,’ I said, ducking a little bow and stepping out of her way.
‘You can walk beside me,’ she said.
I fell into step, saying nothing, but waiting for her to speak. She was silent till we came to the small garden door where the guard swung it open before her. Inside a maid was waiting to take her cloak and to offer her a pair of dry shoes. I swung my cloak over my arm and stamped my feet on the rushes to warm them.
‘Come with me,’ the queen said over her shoulder and led the way up the winding stone stairs to her apartments. I knew why she had chosen the garden stairs. If we had gone through the main building we would have found the hall, the stairs, and the presence chamber filled with petitioners, half of them come to beg for sons or brothers who were due to follow Tom Wyatt to a death sentence. Queen Mary had to pass through crowds of tearstained women every time she went to Mass, every time she went to dine. They held out their