by Karen Brooks
Lightness filled me. My hands crept to my locket. ‘You don’t have to go to the ends of the earth. I’m here.’
‘You are,’ he said, and proved it with a tender kiss.
At some point we left the parlour and, hand in hand, retreated to his lordship’s room. My body burned.
‘Lock the door, beloved,’ he said from the bed. ‘I want no squire of mine or Caleb interrupting us.’
Eagerly, I did as I was bid. Having confessed all, I was not going to pretend a virtue I didn’t possess. I wanted Nathaniel as much, if not more than he wanted me. I’d been touched by hands that only knew how to pretend love or mistreat me with raw brutality. All I wanted was the touch of the man to whom I’d unlocked my secrets and laid my soul bare. I wanted him to explore every part of me, teach me anew what love and desire were.
I could not have picked a better teacher.
As he sat on the end of his bed, he pulled me to him once more, watching as my eager fingers tugged at the laces of his shirt, laughing and crying out in mock pain as I carefully pulled it over his head, trying not to disturb the bandage, so that magnificent chest was bare once more. As I did so, he pulled the partlet from my bodice and undid my laces.
Just as he was about to open my smock, I stopped him. ‘Please, Nathaniel, I must warn you. I’ve not the body of a maiden either. I’ve borne a child and bear the marks of it. I also bear his — Raffe’s.’ I didn’t mention Topcliffe; as Caleb had suggested, some things would have to remain a secret between us. Topcliffe had already harmed my love and, knowing what Nathaniel would do to him if he learned what had happened to me in the Tower, I would rather keep my peace and him safe.
In answer, Nathaniel scooped me into his arms and lay me on the bed. Gently he finished removing my clothes and stood over me, examining every inch as the colour rose in my face and I fought the urge to cover myself. Then, reaching for my locket, he opened it and gazed in wonder at the lock of dark hair curled within its centre. With a poignant smile, he closed it, pressed it to his lips, and replaced it over my heart. Then he lay beside me and with gentle lips began to kiss every inch of my body, from my small (but perfect, he said) breasts, to the white lines that traced my stomach and hips, my map of motherhood, and the scars he later found on my back and legs, which drew exclamations of anger and pity. He placed his mouth everywhere and I relished every kiss, every liquid swirl of his tongue. All the while he spoke words of such love, such devotion it made my chest swell, my eyes fill and my body quiver.
Tangled in my hair, in the sheets, we wrapped our limbs about each other. So gentle and yet not. I tasted myself upon his lips, the sweet saltiness of my womanhood, and heard him sigh with pleasure at the response his attentions elicited. God and all the angels, I was indeed blessed to find such a one.
Returning his ardour, I forced him to lie on his back and did what I longed to do; with my lips and tongue I explored every part of his perfect body. The satin of his skin, the silkiness of his hair, the velvet warmth of his manhood as it slipped first into my mouth and then inside me.
The room disappeared and I was transported to another place, a place of sweet meadows and flowers; I was plunged into turquoise waters and dipped in vats of warm wine. Drunk with desire, filled with starlight and sunshine, I touched the heavens and returned only to find they’d taken up residence inside me.
We slept and woke, hungry for each other. Greedy beyond measure, we feasted again … and again …
FIFTY-SEVEN
THE MERMAID’S TALE AND THE DOCKS, PLYMOUTH
The 5th of April, Anno Domini 1582
In the 24th year of the reign of Elizabeth I
A long, heavy leg pinned me to the bed as a gentle finger traced whorls on my body. I slowly opened my eyes and smiled into the face that dominated my dreams.
‘Am I awake or asleep?’ I said groggily.
Nathaniel laughed and the sound matched the sunlight striking the pillow and the warmth expanding beneath my breasts.
‘Awake — as I’ve been these last minutes, most perplexed and eager.’
I looked down at his manhood. I would not admit to being sore, though I was. Sore and not yet sated.
‘Not only for that, my love,’ he smiled. ‘But for the answer you avoided giving me yesterday.’
I frowned. ‘You have the better of me, sir. I do not recall a question.’
‘You do not remember me asking you to marry me?’
Placing a hand over his, I stilled his attentions. ‘I think I would recall that, my lord.’
‘Verily,’ he said, ‘I didn’t ask formally but thought with your clever mind you would understand what I believed I made clear.’
I gaped at him. ‘Clear?’
‘Do you not recall me telling you your reputation was assured with me?’
‘I … I …’
‘And that my heart was in your keeping?’ His leonine eyes grazed my form.
‘I … I do … But you do not have to marry me because I surrendered my body to you.’
Nathaniel sat up. ‘You gave me this gift —’ he gestured to me, ‘thinking I would not?’
‘Verily, my lord.’ I sat upright, pulling up the sheet to protect a modesty I could no longer claim. My throat grew dry. My heart skipped wildly. ‘I … did not expect such an offer nor think I would be suitable for such an honour. Please, my lord, if this is a jest it is most unbecoming.’
I tried to get out of the bed, but he pulled me back and planted a kiss upon my bruised lips. When I was unresponsive, he smoothed my hair back from my brow.
‘Mallory, I jest not. Banish that frown, do not regard me like that with those magnificent eyes of yours. I ask you in all seriousness. I’ve intended to for many weeks. Did I not say I hoped you would see yourself as part of my family? I meant it. Would you do me the honour of being my wife?’
Unable to speak, I simply stared.
‘When are you going to understand, woman? I care not whether you be Mallory Bright, Walsingham or — what was the name Sir Francis gave you? Samantha Short. You are Mallory, the woman I love, and I would make you a Warham. What say you?’
Is it possible to know such happiness that you think, like the fireworks on Lady’s Day, you will explode into a thousand brilliant stars and be scattered all over the skies? With shining eyes and shining heart, I tumbled into his arms.
‘If you would have me, my lord, the honour would be all mine.’
We did not leave the room for some time.
Though I know Papa would have disapproved of my wantonness, when news of our engagement was shared, joy overcame the terrible context of our togetherness. Caleb was the first to be told (and was overjoyed and mouthed a triumphant ‘I told you’), followed by Papa, Beatrice, Angela and Sir Lance, who all arrived that day, travel-weary and a little afraid, along with Tace and Alice, the cats and the dogs, who barked and scampered about the place with delight.
For a brief moment, we snatched at happiness — as we’d learned, it could be short-lived. Ours would prove to be no exception.
Though Papa bore grave injuries from the torture he had endured in the Tower, he was healing. He did not wish to discuss what he had been through, and I respected his wishes, though every time I saw the stick which he now depended upon, the fading bruises upon his face, the blackened nail beds and twisted fingers that the bandages could not disguise, I was filled with dark rage. I still didn’t understand why Papa had had to suffer, and it would take a long time for me to accept that I never would.
Sir Lance had been charged with bringing papers that would allow us to leave Plymouth unimpeded by the authorities, but he arrived empty-handed.
Nathaniel lowered himself into a chair. Papa, Sir Lance and I formed a grim semi-circle around him. Near the fire, Angela, Caleb and Beatrice chatted excitedly, the three dogs at their feet. Angela and Beatrice had become firm friends on their journey. Oblivious to the setback, they cast glances in our direction but knew better than to join us.
&
nbsp; ‘What does this mean?’ I asked.
‘It means,’ said Nathaniel, ‘that we must leave tonight, under cover of darkness, and pray the authorities don’t discover our intentions or stop and question us. I’d hoped that, knowing what I’ve done in aiding you, and knowing that you, Caleb and Gideon would be leaving the country under my care, they’d want to be rid of me and we’d be given papers. I was a fool.’ He regarded Sir Lance gravely. ‘Were you followed?’
‘I feared at one stage we might have been, but after we remained at an inn for two days, the courier didn’t dally. We didn’t see him again on the road.’
Lord Nathaniel nodded. ‘Very well then. A change of plans. I’m sorry, Lance, but we’ll be abandoning you here almost immediately.’
‘Abandoning me?’ Sir Lance scoffed. ‘Nate, you can hardly abandon me if I’m on the ship with you.’
Understanding registered in Nathaniel’s face and he reached for his friend’s arm. ‘The second-best bit of news today.’ He flashed me a look, a look that took my breath away with its bold desire. Sir Lance saw it too and turned aside to wink at Caleb.
‘So,’ continued Nathaniel, ‘I will ask you and Nicholas to order any crew still in Plymouth to make their way back to the ship before nightfall. We’ve learned the port watchmen’s shift changes around nine of the clock, so if a boat is ready at the end of the south dock it can take us to the ship where we will board. All being well, we’ll weigh anchor and be gone with the change of tide.’
‘It’s risky, Nate,’ said Sir Lance.
‘Aye, but what choice do we have?’
And so as the moon began to rise, casting far too much light for Nathaniel’s liking, we stealthily made our way along the waterfront towards the dock that would lead us to freedom. If we were caught without papers, we’d be arrested. Because both Papa and I were escaped felons, traitors no less, I would join Anne Askew and become the second female commoner to lose her life in the Tower. Whereas I would die at the order of Queen Elizabeth for being thought a papist conspirator, the Queen’s father had killed Mistress Anne because she was a Protestant. How swiftly those who govern change the manner of their allegiance to the Almighty, forcing their subjects to follow. I wondered if our rulers would face a reckoning when they met God in heaven. If they did.
Timing was everything. We kept to the darkest part of the street, avoiding the pools of light cast onto the cobbles by ale-houses and taverns, trying not to attract the attention of the many trulls and sailors. Around us grunts of lust sounded in the darkness. I heard two men pissing in a ditch, one man in close relations with another, choruses of singing, shouts, and even a fight that spilled onto the street. We turned our heads away and prayed these people were what they seemed, not soldiers in disguise or watchers waiting to pounce.
The watchmen on the dock began to leave their small wooden office, lanterns held aloft. They stood awhile with their pipes to greet their colleagues and exchange news before heading home. The smoke and conversation drifted into the night. Downwind of them, Nathaniel ordered Jim, who’d come to escort Beatrice, Angela, Caleb and Sir Lance, to go ahead. Tace, Alice, the cats and the dogs had been taken aboard earlier that day, along with pieces of luggage. Any watchers would dismiss the servants out of hand — they would be searching for a group of noble felons, a crippled locksmith and his daughter. Nathaniel had wanted me to go with them, but I refused, and not merely for fear of being observed. I would wait with him, Nicholas and Papa.
With bated breath we saw them pass the watchmen in the darkness. The pier they crept along was slightly below and behind where the guards stood, their backs to them.
When they were out of sight, Nathaniel took my hand. ‘Ready?’ he whispered.
‘Aye,’ I said. Papa gripped his stick and nodded.
Just as we left the shadows a figure detached itself from the wall opposite and came across the street to cut us off. There was something familiar about the walk, the way he held his hand out to silence us. Nathaniel moved to draw this sword, but I bade him stay his hand.
‘Who goes there?’ he asked instead.
‘Samantha knows.’
It was Thomas. Dressed as Peter Halins the merchant, he wore the same cap and dun-coloured clothes he’d donned at Deptford. We were undone.
I strode towards him, angry, terrified, but determined not to show it. ‘You cannot stop me, Thomas. He cannot.’ We both knew of whom I spoke. How dare Thomas, how dare Sir Francis.
‘Hold, Mallory,’ said Thomas softly. ‘That’s not my intention.’
I came to a halt inches before him, Nathaniel on one side of me, Papa on the other. Nicholas stood watch. ‘Then why are you here?’ I asked.
‘To give you these,’ he said. From the satchel slung across his shoulder he extracted a batch of papers and a large purse.
‘What is this?’ I asked, eyeing the items cautiously. I did not trust this man, the man who had handed me into the Tower and put me at Topcliffe’s mercy.
‘Passports, the paperwork you need not only to leave here, but to ensure his lordship’s lands are not seized, and that you are welcomed wherever you decide to go.’ I glanced at the papers before passing them to Nathaniel. He quickly scanned the pages, holding them to the moonlight.
‘These seem in order,’ he said. The relief in his voice was palpable.
‘And there’s this too,’ said Thomas, handing over the purse. It was heavy. ‘Consider these wages owed and a debt paid.’
I balanced it in my hand. I did not thank him for what was my due. I still wanted to strike him. I gave the purse to Papa. ‘Did he send you?’ I asked finally.
‘Aye. But I wanted to come, to explain my actions and his.’
There must have been something in my expression, for Thomas stepped nearer. Both Nathaniel and Papa went to prevent him.
‘I do not seek to harm her,’ he snapped. ‘I never did. Don’t you see, Mallory? Of all the things you could have taken, you chose the book that would have undone Sir Francis — after everything he’s sacrificed — and the entire country. You could not just walk free with a simple scolding or slap on the wrist. Nor could you have your own way and just leave with your father. Your thieving could not be rewarded. It would have set a poor example, one others may well have sought to emulate. But he would have done that — let you saunter away. Sir Francis was prepared to do all you asked and more. I told you, he cares about you Mallory. He cares about you.’ He nodded towards Papa. ‘Now I know why.’
So, Sir Francis’s secret, our secret, was out. I felt Papa’s fingers curl around mine.
Thomas latched his satchel. ‘It never made sense why he admitted a woman into our network, training you and giving you tasks only a man should be given, or why he took such pride in your work — pride he never took in ours.’ There was a slight note of jealousy. ‘It wasn’t until he reacted the way he did when I said you needed to be punished, that I understood. You were more than a watcher to him, more than a spy to ferret out information and pass it on: you were his daughter. His bastard daughter.’ He spat the words.
‘Soft, Thomas,’ said Nathaniel in a voice that made me tremor.
Thomas looked up at him. ‘You do not frighten me, my lord. I just have to say one word and soldiers will pour into this area, boats will row to your ship and prevent it leaving. I can have you interred faster than you can snap your fingers.’
‘But not as fast as I can draw this knife across your throat.’ I stared at Papa. When had he learned to wield a weapon so quickly? To drop his stick, my hand, and lunge with such speed? When had he learned to overcome a man like Thomas Phelippes, to press a knife to his neck with broken hands and speak in such deadly tones?
‘Stay, stay,’ said Thomas, his hand held before him, his head tipped towards the sky, his neck vulnerable and white above his ruff. Papa withdrew the knife slightly.
I took the opportunity to get answers. ‘Are you saying it wasn’t Sir Francis’s intention to imprison me?’
‘Of course not,’ said Thomas. ‘But when I suggested a small example was necessary to deter you from such foolish behaviour, that it would act as a lesson to any others who sought to blackmail him, he listened and conceded a few nights in the Tower could not do you any harm.’
I almost choked. ‘Oh, but he was wrong.’
Thomas inhaled sharply as Papa’s knife pressed deeper. ‘Topcliffe went too far, of that there’s no doubt, and I am sorry.’
Nathaniel growled.
Thomas spoke faster. ‘When Sir Francis found out, he was furious. He ordered you to be released, came to see to it himself. By then, his lordship here and Master Hollis had gained entry. Under normal circumstances, they would never have been admitted, nor would you have escaped. Sir Francis saw an opportunity and simply ensured you’d succeed. Unbeknownst to any of you, he ordered the guards to admit any visitors to Mistress Bright, then ordered them to hasten to different parts of the Tower. He tried to confound Topcliffe’s intentions, but the man was obsessed.’
Obsessed. Aye, that was the word. A man who saw the world in two colours only. ‘He knows I’m Sir Francis’s daughter.’
Thomas pushed the knife from his throat, his fingers testing the skin. Papa allowed it, and bent to retrieve his stick.
‘Feared as much,’ said Thomas. ‘It’s what I worked out for myself. But here’s the rub, Mallory. As long as you’re alive, Sir Francis and his secrets will never be safe. There will always be someone, somewhere, who will use you as leverage against him and thus the Queen. You are his one weak spot. He knows it now, too. England is not safe while you walk the land.’
I stared at him in disbelief. ‘But I’m a woman, I’m no-one.’
