Christmas At The Tudor Court: The Queen's Christmas Summons / The Warrior's Winter Bride. Amanda McCabe
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Shock and happiness shot through him at the sight of his godfather. It had been too long since he had seen anything familiar, had felt close to home again. Whatever home was. ‘Sir Matthew! What are you doing here?’
‘Whatever do you think I would be doing in the wilds of Ireland? Looking for you, of course.’
Looking for him? He had always known Matthew was good at his job, but perhaps now he had some second sight. Or perhaps the Queen’s astrologer, John Dee, had led him. ‘How did you find me?’
Matthew shrugged. ‘Perhaps we would be more comfortable talking inside?’
John nodded and led the way back into his little sanctuary. Matthew took it in with a flicker of a glance. ‘You have found a fine nest. I suppose the pretty Lady Alys made it so, since I remember the squalor of your Cambridge lodgings. You never had a talent for housekeeping.’
At the mention of Alys, John turned wary, his senses heightened in that prickling, warning way again. He closed the door softly behind them and leaned against it with his arms crossed. No one could be permitted to harm Alys, even his godfather, even if she was, technically speaking, a traitor to the crown. She had been moved by humanity alone to save his life and he would die to keep her from being punished for it. ‘Is that how you found me? Through her?’
‘In a way, though I must say she was remarkably careful for a lady with no experience as an intelligencer. She made sure she was followed by no servants or soldiers from the castle and gave no clue even to her father. Perhaps Walsingham could recruit her?’
John shook his head in anger. His gentle Alys, subjected to the things he had seen and done in Walsingham’s service? He regretted nothing; it had been done to protect the Queen and the peace of England. But Alys could never know those horrors. ‘Don’t you dare approach her, Sir Matthew. She may be careful, but she is also an innocent.’
Matthew glanced at John, his brow raised in an expression of curiosity. ‘Indeed? ʼTis a pity. We could use her. We have few men here in this part of the world. Even spies can’t stomach it.’
‘You must have a few, though, to have found me so quickly.’
Matthew turned to the fire, his back to John as he held his hands closer to the flames. ‘We have been carefully tracking all the Armada ships that escaped from Gravelines. We heard the Concepción had been blown this way in the storm and I set off as soon as I heard. The Queen’s pinnaces are much faster and safer than your clumsy Spanish galleons. I prayed you had survived.’
‘And so I did. But how did you know I was here? Bingham’s soldiers were killing anyone they could find on sight.’
‘Surely you must know I have my own men with Bingham? They have sharp eyes and knew the right questions to ask, even in the midst of such chaos. They had not seen you. And I took shelter at Dunboyton. Sir William Drury is an old friend of mine and a smart man. I hoped he could help in some way.’
‘So you found Alys there.’
‘Alys, is it? Aye, so I did. Sir William had no knowledge of you, nor of any Englishman seeking shelter, and I could tell he was not lying. His daughter, on the other hand...’
‘You did not question her, did you?’ John asked sharply, that cold fear returning.
Matthew frowned. ‘Certainly not. As I said, for a civilian and a sheltered lady she was not a bad liar. She hid her fears well enough and was quite gracious. But she was not quite good enough. I could tell she was hiding something and when I saw her slip out of the castle with a rather large basket, I was sure of it. I followed her, simple as that.’
‘How did you know she was coming to me?’
‘I did not, of course. It could have been anyone she was helping, but I had a sense.’ A smile flickered on his face. ‘I do know the effect you have on fair ladies, John. It has served you well with the French mademoiselles and Spanish doñas, I trust.’
John shook his head. Aye, he had done things in the past he was not proud of, flirted with ladies of every age and station, coaxed secrets from them. But Alys—she was different. Different from every other lady he had ever known, with her sweetness and her laughter, even with her sensible help when he was injured. Aye, Alys was different. ‘I did not seduce her into helping me, Sir Matthew. She has a good, kind heart and it was wounded seeing Bingham’s brutality.’
For an instant, Matthew looked surprised. ‘I am sure she was.’ That unguarded expression was gone as fast as it was there, hidden behind that small smile. ‘I knew Sir William when we were young and I remember Elena Lorca, who became Elena Drury. She was a gentle beauty as well and Sir William thought her love worthy of exile from court. Her daughter looks much like her.’
‘Are you saying you think I am considering staying here?’ John asked. He had not thought of such a thing before, but now that it had occurred to him it seemed—alluring. A home, a hearth of his own, with a lady like Alys by his side. No more wandering, no more lies.
It was alluring indeed, but he knew it could never be. His past made him unworthy of someone like Alys and his duty was to his work still. He shook away the brief image of a life of his own and faced his godfather again with a scowl.
Matthew shrugged. ‘The life of an intelligencer is a difficult one, even as necessary as it is, and most men do not last in it as many years as I have. It can grow most wearisome.’
John nodded. Wearisome indeed. He had craved adventure, sought it, and it had come to him in spades. Yet he had not done what he wanted the most—to retrieve the honour of his family name from the depths his father had dragged it to, to restore Huntleyburg. He still had much work to do and sweet Alys could be no part of it.
‘I have been injured, true,’ John said. ‘But I am regaining my health. I still have services I can perform for the Queen. And Alys—she deserves better than I could give her. She deserves a husband with a calm disposition and a fine estate.’
Matthew studied him for a long, tense moment and finally nodded. ‘As you say, there is still much you can do for Queen Elizabeth, for England. You have already done far more than even I could have imagined. As for Lady Alys...’
‘She must not be harmed!’
‘Never. She shall be rewarded in some way for her bravery in saving your life, I shall see to that. Perhaps a rich marriage? Some titled gentleman from the court?’ Matthew smiled at John’s involuntary scoffing sound. ‘You do not like that idea, I see, John. Well, we shall think of something for her later. For now, we must be gone. We sail on the dawn tide.’
‘So soon?’ John asked, startled.
‘We must return to the Queen as soon as possible. We have much to tell her of what has happened here and the danger from Spain has not passed. They say some of the ships have regrouped at Ostend and may yet connect with Parma’s army. And there are rumours that some of the English Catholic exiles have already secretly reached England’s shores. I do not want Sir William or any of the men here to know such things. Also, most importantly, the spy who was in contact with Peter de Vargas is still at the Queen’s court and we do not know who it is. They must be found and you are the only one who can do it.’
‘But I must thank Alys for all she has done. She...’ She had done everything. She had summoned him back to life, both his body and soul, when he had been on the edge of surrendering it. She was a flash of light and joy in darkness. How could he give that up now, now that he had seen what could be? Yet he knew he had to. For her sake. Especially if Peter’s spy was still at court. Matthew was right—the danger was not past. It was never past.
Matthew came to John and laid his hands gently on his shoulders, looking into his eyes most solemnly. ‘I know how it is. I know the longings in a lonely heart. But you have chosen a different path in life, a dark and rocky one, and you must see it to its close. Lady Alys is gentle and beautiful, as her mother was. Do you not want to spare her such dangers?’
‘Of course I do.’ John was sure of that. He did care about Alys