by David Field
‘You wish me to investigate the allegations against her, Your Majesty?’ Cecil asked as his heart sank.
‘I most certainly do,’ Elizabeth insisted, ‘and what is more I will defer any decision on what is to be done with her until you have.’
‘As you command, Your Majesty,’ Cecil agreed with a bow that was as sweeping as his ageing back permitted.
XIII
‘According to that marker stone we just passed, we’re almost in Scotland,’ Tom Ashton grumbled. Cecil, leading the small procession, appeared not to have heard, so Tom raised his voice. ‘Is this some sort of punishment for my slack record copying?’
Cecil reined in his mount and waited until Tom drew level with him.
‘Is there no end to your complaining?’ the older man protested. ‘You could have stayed in London, had you wished, since I had no more desire for your company this past week than you had for mine. But we are both servants of the Queen and we go where we are sent.’
Tom looked up at the forbidding walls of the ancient fortress. ‘We must have displeased her mightily for her to send us to this miserable outpost, with dank moorland as far as the eye can see and nothing but the screeching of the marsh birds to welcome us. Where in God’s name are we?’
‘Carlisle,’ Cecil told him.
‘You have not even seen fit to explain our “mission”, as you call it. Although unless I misheard you, you claimed that it was mine alone. If so, why are you here with me?’
‘Because we each have a different mission,’ Cecil explained with a sigh of resignation. ‘Mine is to enquire of the former Scottish Queen, who is Elizabeth’s uninvited guest in yon castle, why she has ventured across the border of her former realm and what she seeks from the Queen of England.’
‘And mine?’ Tom asked, almost past caring anyway.
‘Yours is to continue with what you are best at — seducing female servants. Mary’s, on this occasion.’
‘Since I do not imagine that Her Majesty has allocated me this pleasurable duty of her own inclination — and indeed I would be surprised to learn that she even knows of it — what is it that you hope I may be able to discover?’
‘I will reveal that once we are comfortably installed in the castle yonder,’ Cecil replied as he turned his horse’s bridle, pointing its head back along the moorland track they had been following. ‘You may elect to remain here if you wish, for the carrion birds of whose clamour you were complaining earlier to make a supper of you. Or you may accompany me, in the ongoing pretence that you are my clerk.’ He kicked his horse’s flank and it continued up the slope with Tom closely behind, still muttering darkly.
Two hours later they had been allocated adjacent chambers in the Captain’s Tower that doubled as a gatehouse and was the most comfortable that the Governor, Lord Scrope, could offer to his important, but totally unexpected, guests. When Cecil had advised him of the nature of his business, the Governor had shaken his head sadly.
‘The woman seems to have lost all sense of her true predicament. She first came here some weeks ago, heading a sad procession of those who had escaped annihilation further north at the hands of those who now rule Scotland in the name of its young prince. Since then she has been joined by a few servants who drifted in as if driven by the north wind and has set up some sort of royal apartment in the Warden’s Tower where I first granted her sanctuary. Now she treats me like some sort of Royal Chamberlain, seemingly unaware that I could drag her out and hang her from the battlements as a foreign invader. I have clearly declined to do so until I am advised of what our own Queen wishes done with her.’
‘You were very wise,’ Cecil confirmed, ‘since even I do not know what is to be done with her. Queen Elizabeth has sent me to speak with her regarding her intentions now that she no longer rules Scotland. But, if I might counsel you privily, never lose sight of the fact that your prisoner is a Tudor and a royal cousin.’
‘So what will you say to her?’ Tom asked, once they were alone and had been served a hearty supper at a board in front of a blazing fire. Cecil shrugged.
‘At this stage, I have not the remotest idea. But are you not eager to learn of your mission? Or is your eagerness confined to the matter of lifting skirts?’
‘That and earning riches,’ Tom said. ‘But I believe that you wish me to lay siege to some Scottish Queen’s Lady, else you would not have dragged me here. It may cost you more than fifty pounds this time, since while in Edinburgh I learned that even high born ladies from that country have as much hair on their legs as their fathers and brothers.’
‘The size of the fee that you may earn will have more to do with the quality of the information you thereby glean than the comeliness of the lady you bed in order to obtain it,’ Cecil said tauntingly. ‘But first you must become acquainted with what it is the Queen wishes to know, which I can assure you has nothing to do with how hairy a furrow you are required to plough.’ Tom allowed himself a hollow laugh.
‘Your turn of speech has coarsened considerably during our renewed association, Master Cecil. But since this fine food and warm fire have inclined me towards sleep, you had best proceed with your instruction.’ Cecil’s brow creased as he began.
‘You are to discover the precise circumstances in which Queen Mary — as she then was — lost her first husband. Not through any carelessness on her part, but when he was killed in an explosion that blew apart the house to which he was then confined, recovering from the smallpox.’
‘Have you not answered your own question?’ Tom asked as he threw a heavily gnawed pheasant bone into the fireplace.
Cecil shook his head. ‘If this man — Lord Darnley — had been killed in the blast, there would have been far more marks on his corpse to confirm that fact. In truth, the only signs of the cause of his death that have been reported lay around his throat, suggesting that he had been strangled.’
‘By whom, do we know?’
‘The “whom” is not the vital issue. What we — which means “you” — are here to discover is who gave the order for his death.’
‘You suspect the Queen Mary?’
‘So it is rumoured, which is why our own Queen is reluctant to grant Mary Stuart safe sanctuary here in England. She cannot be seen to condone such wickedness. But there is something else of which you must be made aware. The man she may have commissioned with that dreadful act is the man she then married with indecent haste, in circumstances that raise the gravest suspicions. This second husband was a man called “Bothwell” and shortly after Darnley’s death he carried Mary off to his fortress in the borders and there got her with child. Some claim it was an act of violation, but there are others who will assert that they were already lovers, even before Darnley’s death. Mary’s impregnation by Bothwell is not in dispute, but there remains the lingering doubt as to whether it was by force or by design.’
‘And you believe that servants may exist who can reveal the truth of all these well concealed facts?’ Tom challenged him.
Cecil nodded. ‘Mary Stuart is known to have only a small group of Ladies who attend upon her, at least two of whom are with her here in Carlisle. They are privy to a great deal of intimate information regarding Mary’s movements, her innermost thoughts and the doings in her bedchamber. One of these may be persuaded to share some of that knowledge.’
‘So I may be required to plough more than one furrow?’ Tom said.
Cecil grimaced. ‘I leave those matters to you. But Elizabeth must be counselled regarding the true character of the woman who will no doubt seek her assistance to regain her throne. But now it grows late and you are not the only one in need of sleep. I am becoming an old man in the Queen’s service.’
‘When does my cousin intend to send her army to assist me?’ Mary Stuart demanded immediately upon Cecil’s entry being announced and before he could even exchange pleasantries with her. ‘Or are you merely the vanguard? The Captain in Chief or something?’
‘I am no warrior, madam,’ Cecil fro
wned at her hectoring manner, ‘nor does Queen Elizabeth at this time have any plans to send troops to your aid.’
‘Then why are you here and who exactly are you?’
‘Her Majesty’s Secretary of State,’ Cecil replied with a stiff bow that was almost an act of sarcasm, ‘and as such I believe I might be entitled to a seat.’
Mary waved him into a chair adjacent to the one she had vacated when she rose to meet him and Cecil smiled his acknowledgment as he sat down, in the confident expectation that he would not need to engage in any introductory pleasantries.
‘Presumably my cousin will agree to assist me in the restoration of my rightful crown?’ Mary demanded in a tone that implied that the question was already answered and Cecil took a deep breath before replying.
‘Nothing has yet been determined, my Lady.’
‘Your Majesty,’ Mary insisted haughtily.
Cecil bristled. ‘I give that honourable title to only one lady in England, which is where we are currently sitting, so you will perhaps forgive me if I address you as “my Lady”. And indeed, as I understand it, even were we a few leagues north, in your native Scotland, it would still not be appropriate to address you as “Your Majesty”. Is that not the reality of your current predicament?’
‘You are cruel to remind me of it,’ Mary scowled, ‘but if it will ease our negotiations, we may observe the realities.’
‘I am not sent to negotiate,’ Cecil told her.
‘Then why are you here?’
‘To assess your situation and in due course to advise Her Majesty on how best to accommodate you.’
‘I am hardly well accommodated in this draughty barn that in my country would barely be appropriate to house cattle,’ Mary snorted. ‘When may I transfer to London and will you be my escort?’
‘Both of those questions were best put to Queen Elizabeth,’ Cecil told her and noted the rapid throbbing at her throat as she fought to control her anger.
‘And in the meantime?’ she demanded and Cecil spread his arms in a gesture of uncertainty.
‘Until the Queen issues further orders, you must remain here, it would seem.’
‘I would be better to cross the border back into my own country, where I still have loyal subjects,’ Mary insisted. ‘And, I might add, where I am treated with more deference that you have so far displayed.’
Cecil felt his anger and distaste rising rapidly and it was his turn to fight with his natural instincts. At least he had one way of putting this arrogant harpy in her place.
‘I do not believe that journeying north is an option that is currently available to you, my Lady.’
‘Because of the perceived danger from the traitors across the border?’
‘No, because of my instructions from my Queen that you are to remain where you are until she has decided how best to deal with you.’
‘I am a prisoner, say you? The innocent captive of my own cousin?’
‘Let us say simply that you are not free to leave here, either to the north or to the south,’ Cecil replied with considerable satisfaction.
Mary’s face grew instantly crimson, then she rose quickly, turned her back on him and yelled ‘Get out, you insolent little servant! And take your impudence with you!’
Cecil bowed gratefully from her presence without another word. There were plenty that he might have employed, but none of them would have assisted in moving matters forward.
Back in the living chamber that he shared with Tom he hurled his bonnet into a corner of the room before realising that Tom was seated in that corner, where he was narrowly missed by the flying headgear.
Tom grinned. ‘How went your audience with the former Queen of Scotland? Did she instruct you to piss in your bonnet before hurling it into a corner?’
‘She might as well have done,’ Cecil grumbled. ‘She is quite the most arrogant, high and mighty, unpleasant and overbearing old sow that I ever had the misfortune to encounter and she makes our own Elizabeth seem like a sainted martyr by comparison.’
‘So no love lost between you?’ Tom smirked. ‘Can we therefore plan our departure for tomorrow?’
‘Would that we could. But may I take it from that remark that you have not yet identified any pathetic wench in Mary’s service that you can tup for information?’
‘I have encountered but one,’ Tom said, ‘and a most comely one at that. Her name is Janet Spittell, but she seems a little high-born for my normal strategy and will require much careful handling, in the manner of a finely bred stallion or mare.’
‘But what can she tell us, even should she succumb to your charms?’
‘She is the gentlewoman who attends on one of Mary’s own Ladies and may therefore have been privy to what obtained in Edinburgh at the date of the death of Lord Darnley and thereafter. She has been in that service for the past two years or so. But I must caution you that she will be a hard quarry to bring down.’
‘Do they not say that all the excitement is in the chase?’ Cecil reminded him. ‘So what strategy do you propose to employ?’
‘I must first gain her friendship and confidence,’ Tom told him. ‘She once fled all her home comforts, rather than marry her father’s choice of husband for her, so she is clearly of an independent spirit. She also gives the impression of having once received an expensive education and she is gifted with the skills of an apothecary. No simple country wench, clearly, but I have no doubt that under her skirts she functions much the same as any other woman. But in short answer to your question, I have arranged to walk with her this evening along the battlements of this ancient heap and shall continue to do so until I have either the information you seek, or the pleasure of opening her legs to new experiences. I shall obviously keep you well informed regarding the former, but not the latter.’
‘Neither will be possible,’ Cecil frowned, ‘since I must lose no time in returning to the Queen and advising her of the threat that Mary poses, both to herself and anyone unwise enough to champion her cause.’
‘But I have barely begun my assault on Janet Spittell’s virtue!’ Tom protested.
‘I do not recall advising you that you would be riding alongside me when I return to London. And before you protest at my leaving you here to fend for yourself, remember that your mission is as important as mine, if perhaps a little more pleasurable.’
‘Will you not find it tedious to travel alone for another week?’
‘Not as tedious as the week I spent on the northward journey, with a whining ungrateful clerk for company. See to the conquest of Janet Spittell’s affections and ought else that falls into your grubby hands.’
XIV
‘God be praised that you got back safely!’ Elizabeth exclaimed as she rose from her throne in the Audience Chamber at Whitehall Palace, stepped down from the dais and grasped both of Cecil’s hands warmly.
Cecil, for his part, merely smiled. ‘If you are referring to the uprising in the north of your kingdom, Your Majesty, I heard tell of it at an inn near Peterborough on my way south, but I saw nothing of it on my travels. It was as if it exploded behind me wherever I rode. How bad is it, pray?’ Elizabeth grimaced as she recounted what had been relayed to her by messengers sent south by fast horse.
‘It seems that Neville of Westmorland and Percy of Northumberland assembled a large host at Raby Castle and then marched on Durham, which they have occupied in the name of Mary Stuart. They are putting word abroad that all true Catholics are to come to their banners and march on London, there to install Mary as rightful Queen of England. What did you learn of her true intentions?’
Cecil looked uncertain as he told her, ‘She is without doubt one of the most arrogant women I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. There can also be little doubt that she sees herself as the next lawful monarch of England. But as for bringing the date of her coronation forward by deposing yourself, I doubt it. Her concern would, at this stage, seem to be to regain her Scottish crown and for that she is all but demanding Your Maje
sty’s assistance. I would be surprised to learn that she is behind this latest uprising, although she is obviously its cause; in that regard she remains a serious threat to Your Majesty, and I would urgently counsel that you have her put to death for her crimes.’
Elizabeth’s face lost its eagerness as she shook her head slowly. ‘I cannot conceive of doing that until I know of what she is guilty. What did you learn of her possible part in the murder of her husband Darnley?’
‘Nothing as yet, Majesty, but I have left Master Ashton behind and he has already engaged the interest of a gentlewoman in the service of one of Mary’s Ladies, so in due course I would anticipate that we shall know the truth. But in the meantime, what provisions have been made to meet this latest uprising, which may only be the first of many?’
Elizabeth shook her head in an expression of defeat. ‘The Duke of Sussex, as President of the Council of the North, has raised such men as he can afford at this stage, but he constantly demands that more be sent north to swell his ranks. The Earl of Lincoln can raise more, but Lord Chancellor Hatton advises that the Treasury does not currently possess the funds with which to pay more than a thousand men at most.’
‘Could we not summon Council and obtain consent to the raising of a new tax?’ Cecil asked, then regretted it almost immediately as Elizabeth snorted a reply.
‘Half the Council are committed Catholics themselves, Cecil, as you are well aware and for all we know some of them are behind this plot. Added to which we have not summoned them for some time and if we do so solely in order to tax the nation, there will be a popular outcry, particularly from London merchants for whom the north of England is a foreign land.’
