QUEEN'S CHRISTMAS SUMMONS, THE

by MCCABE, AMANDA

  ‘I’m glad to have the opportunity to thank you properly for your help at Dunboyton, Lady Alys. It was very good to see your father again and in such fine health.’

  Alys remembered that Sir Matthew had once known her father, and her mother, when they were young. It made his betrayal at Dunboyton all the worse. ‘I fear the climate at Dunboyton does him little good at his age. And he so seldom gets to see his old friends.’

  Sir Matthew gave another of his bland little smiles that said nothing. ‘I’m sure he will be able to return to England very soon.’ He turned to John. ‘Perhaps you have met my godson, Sir John Huntley?’

  His godson? No wonder he had come to snatch John away from Dunboyton. But how did these two men work together now? ‘Of course. Hello, Sir John.’

  ‘Lady Alys. I’m glad to see you’re adjusting to court life so well.’

  ‘It is endlessly interesting,’ she answered.

  ‘It looks as if Her Majesty has got far ahead of you, Lady Alys,’ Sir Matthew commented.

  Alys glanced back to see that the Queen had indeed strode around to the next courtyard, her cloak a black, shadowy blur. Her ladies from that distance looked like a flock of bright birds, fluttering and twittering. Only Ellen hung back from them, studying Alys. Alys waved to her and she smiled and waved back.

  ‘I should catch up to them,’ Alys said. ‘I cannot be neglecting my duties so soon after arriving here.’

  ‘Let me walk with you, Lady Alys,’ John said.

  Walking with John, so far from the others, was the last thing Alys wanted. She was able to guard her tongue now, but she feared what would happen if he was too near. Yet she had no choice, no ready excuse to avoid his gallant offer. ‘Thank you, Sir John.’

  He offered her his arm and she slid her fingertips lightly over his velvet sleeves. The hard, taut muscles beneath tensed at her touch. They strolled away from his friends, towards the Queen, and Alys tried to concentrate on the crowd in the distance. Not on the man who stood so close to her.

  ‘How are you faring thus far in the Queen’s service?’ he asked, his tone carefully bored. ‘You seemed to be enjoying last night’s banquet.’

  ‘Well enough, I think. My duties are certainly not too onerous, merely a bit of Christmas feasting and walks, and I have done nothing yet to draw the royal wrath as some ladies have.’ She shuddered as she thought of the footstool Queen Elizabeth had chucked at one maid’s head that morning when she pinched her with a necklace clasp. Luckily, the stool had missed its mark.

  John laughed. ‘I don’t see how you could ever draw anyone’s wrath, Alys.’

  ‘Because I am so adept at courtly ways?’

  ‘Because of your kind nature. Queen Elizabeth is fortunate to have you in her train.’

  ‘Surely everyone would say I am the fortunate one. To be here at court and everything.’

  ‘We are all fortunate to have such a queen.’ He paused and glanced down at Alys, his face still shadowed, but she could see the small frown on his lips. ‘I do fear for you at times, Alys.’

  Alys felt a flash of anger at his presumption. ‘Fear for me? The Queen’s palace is surely well guarded.’

  ‘But are you? I said your heart is kind and I know you don’t want to think ill of anyone—except for me.’

  ‘Is it not deserved? I do think well of people, until they give me reason not to.’

  ‘That is well earned, Alys, I admit. But I must warn you to take much care. So many people at court are not what they seem.’

  Alys opened her mouth to argue, to protest that he had no place to warn her about anything, but something in his serious demeanour held her back. He seemed so very sincere. But perhaps that was just another instance of people not being what they seemed. ‘Is there anyone in particular I must beware of?’

  ‘Not yet. Soon I do hope to know much more. But for now—be most careful in where you go and who you speak to privily. Promise me you will do that.’

  ‘I will do that. I hope I am always cautious.’ Except when it came to John. She had not been cautious at all then. She hoped she had learned her lesson.

  There was no time for him to say anything more, for they had nearly reached the hurrying crowd that trailed behind the Queen. Ellen was still waiting for her there.

  ‘I will leave you here,’ John said. ‘Just remember what I have told you.’

  Alys nodded, feeling even more confused than ever. She hurried to join Ellen and glanced back only once at John. He was already far away from her, re-joining his godfather.

  ‘I did not know you were acquainted with Sir Matthew Morgan, Alys,’ Ellen said.

  ‘He knows my father,’ Alys answered carefully, remembering the warning not to give away too much information to anyone. ‘But they have not seen each other in a long time.’

  ‘He is much too quiet. I cannot trust him,’ Ellen said with a sigh. ‘It is too bad, for he is rather handsome.’ She linked her arm with Alys’s and led her back towards the Queen. ‘Now, what do you suppose is going to happen at tonight’s banquet? A Lord of Misrule will be chosen! So exciting. I wonder who it will be...’

  * * *

  That evening’s banquet took place not in the Great Hall, but in a smaller chamber which made it feel like a much more intimate party, almost like a holiday gathering Alys had known at her father’s home, where everyone was crowded in close and conversation and laughter were easy to hear. Yet it was no less grand than any banquet at court could ever be, with the walls hung with bright painted cloths depicting scenes of a royal journey complete with silken tents and brilliantly caparisoned horse. The gold-and-silver threads woven through them made them seem to dance in the candlelight. A fire roared in the marble grate, casting a glow over the gilded beams of the low ceilings and the fine silver plate lining the round table.

  Some of the Queen’s musicians played a lively tune as the courtiers processed to the tables, nearly drowned out by the laughter. The scent of spiced wine, roasted meats and floral perfumes made Alys feel dizzy.

  ‘Alys, over here!’ she heard Ellen call and she followed her to the maids’ table near the Queen’s seat at the far end of the room. Pages were pouring wine into the goblets as everyone found their places and Alys sipped at hers as she studied the crowd. Lord Merton and Sir Walter Terrence were nearby and waved at Ellen, who laughed back at them. Alys found she was beginning to recognise some of the other faces in the glittering sea of jewels and furs, to remember their names, just as Mistress Jones had said she would.

  Yet the face she looked for most closely, John’s, was nowhere to be seen. Alys sighed, with relief or disappointment she was not sure, and settled back on her bench. She sipped at the wine, so much finer and sweeter than any they had at Dunboyton, and listened to Ellen and the other ladies as they chattered about the fashions around them, who was said to be in love with whom now and what might happen with the Lord of Misrule. It was a pleasant distraction from worrying about John.

  ‘Look at Lady Withersley,’ Ellen whispered. ‘No style at all. She would be better leaving such low-cut bodices to her daughter.’

  Alys looked to where Ellen pointed, to a tall, very thin lady seated across the room, dressed in an eye-catching gown of peacock-green velvet striped with gold and a stiff gold lace ruff. ‘You would never see a gown like that at Dunboyton! The ladies would freeze to death.’

  ‘When I am a grand old married lady I shall wear partlets up to my chin and sit around loudly telling my granddaughters how we had modesty in my day. Just as my grandmother always did,’ Ellen said with a laugh. ‘I will enjoy being old and not grasp after the past like Lady Withersley.’

  ‘Or like the Queen,’ one of the bolder maids said, but only in a whisper.

  ‘The Queen thinks we cannot see that her skin grows lined beneath all that white paste, but strangely it only m
akes the furrows deeper,’ Ellen said thoughtfully. ‘’Tis better to admit the truth.’

  ‘And has your family found you a betrothal, Ellen?’ another maid asked.

  Ellen popped a sugared almond into her mouth and glanced away. ‘My brother must find a wife first.’

  ‘A wealthy wife?’

  Ellen frowned and Alys had the impression she did not wish to continue this conversation at all. ‘Better to wife wealthily whenever possible. Don’t you agree, Alys?’

  Before Alys could think of what to answer, a fanfare of sackbuts and flutes broke over the noisy crowd and everyone’s birdlike chatter fell silent. Queen Elizabeth herself appeared in the doorway on the arm of one of her courtiers, an awe-inspiring sight in a gown of green-and-white satin, trimmed with pearls and ermine. Her curled bright red hair was piled high and crowned with a sable-trimmed gold cap. She glided forward like a ship in full sail.

  Several men followed in her train and Alys felt a shock of surprise when she glimpsed John among them. He, too, wore green, a fine velvet doublet the same colour as his eyes, and a short cloak of white brocade lined in sable tossed over one shoulder. He smiled, but his smile was like a mask, the same one he had worn almost every moment Alys had seen him at court. Only when he stood with her alone in the darkened closet had that mask slipped, had she dared hope the man she had once known was still there somewhere.

  But even if he was, even if her Juan lurked in his soul somewhere, what good would it do? He could not come out, not here, and she could not look for him now.

  She turned quickly away, smiling her own smile, which she feared was already becoming too practised. Gossip flowed around her as freely as the wine, the laughter growing louder.

  The Queen stood at her dais, holding up her hand, and the room fell silent once again. ‘My good friends!’ she said, her voice hoarse, as if the cold walk had done her little good that day. But she smiled, creases forming in her white make-up. ‘I do thank you for joining me tonight on our Christmas revels. We do have much to celebrate, yet also much sadness to banish with the lighting of our Yule logs.’ She closed her eyes for a moment and Alys wondered if she thought of her Lord Leicester, so recently deceased. Everyone said her grief for him had been sharp. But then she opened them and smiled once again. ‘But first, every Yule must have its Lord of Misrule!’ She clapped her hands and the doors opened again to admit a flock of liveried footmen bearing a large platter high above their heads. The crowd could just barely glimpse the cake there, an edifice of white marzipan and gold leaf.

  Behind them marched two rows of gentlemen, who had obviously slipped away from the banquet to make a grand entrance, clad in their finest courtly satins and feathers. Lord Merton was there, with his friend Sir Walter, both of them in bright green and cloth of silver. Lord Merton waved and bowed to the both sides, grinning as if it was his own princely procession.

  Alys watched him with a small frown. She could not like the man and she was not sure why. He was Ellen’s friend and always most mannerly, but such a peacocky show-off. She burned to look at John, but knew she could not and reached for her goblet of wine to take a deep gulp. Ellen gave her a concerned glance.

  ‘In my father’s time,’ Queen Elizabeth said, ‘a Lord of Misrule was chosen for the Christmas season by finding a bean hidden in a special cake. The odds seem perilously against such a thing, don’t they? But my cooks swear to me it is in there and these gentlemen have bravely volunteered to find it. So, my dear gallants, choose your piece and go to!’

  Slices of the cake, a rich amber colour filled with jewel-like bits of candied fruit and iced in thick white marzipan, were handed out. Amid much chewing, and shouted encouragement from the onlookers, the cake was consumed in great gulps, as if the men were starving.

  Alys watched John as he reached for the cake, laughing at a joke someone else told, and in that moment the careful courtly gentleman vanished and the Juan she knew in Ireland peered forward from behind the mask. It was gone too quickly, but she almost cried at the glimpse.

  ‘I have found it!’ Lord Merton cried. He held aloft something on his palm, too tiny to be seen.

  Queen Elizabeth clapped her hands. ‘Excellent, Lord Merton! I declare you to be King of the Bean, Lord of Misrule.’ He knelt before her, and she borrowed one of her courtier’s swords to give him an elaborate mock dubbing that made everyone laugh even louder. ‘What shall your first act be?’

  Lord Merton leaped to his feet. ‘A dance, of course! I declare everyone must perform a galliard to begin our Christmas revels. Lady Ellen, will you partner me?’

  ‘I shall indeed,’ Ellen answered and took his arm to vanish into the crowd, leaving Alys standing alone.

  Yet she was not alone for long.

  ‘Would you care to dance with me, Lady Alys?’ she heard John say and she spun around to find him standing behind her. He smiled, but it was tight, wary, not reaching his eyes.

  She remembered all too well what had happened the last time she danced with him, the longing that had swept over her. ‘I—I do not care to dance tonight,’ she said and hurried away before she could change her mind and give in to the temptation to touch him again.

  She felt him watching her even after the crowd closed between them.

  * * *

  ‘You were late at the revels, John,’ Sir Matthew said as John came into his office. He didn’t look up from the document he was writing. Even in the middle of the night, by meagre candlelight, he did not cease to work.

  ‘No one can leave before the Queen does,’ John answered as he took the chair across from the desk. He sat down and stretched his long legs before him, feeling the weariness in his mind and his muscles. Courtly evenings were long ones and dull. He thought of the fireside of the small room at Dunboyton, laughing there with Alys, and he found himself wishing such evenings could be his more.

  But he knew they could not. That had been a dream; this was the life he had to live.

  ‘Aye, she will outlive us all,’ Matthew said with a sigh.

  ‘Your work for her wearies you before your time, Matthew.’

  ‘What choice do we have? England is safe from Spain now, but five years from now? The Queen’s enemies will always regroup.’ Matthew sat back and carefully laid aside his pen. ‘Have you discovered anything at the royal revels?’

  John quickly told him of conversations overheard, strange glances exchanged, alliances that seemed to be shifting. The everyday matters of court.

  ‘Very good,’ Matthew responded. ‘I fear I have a different errand for you at the moment, though. I have received information about a lodging house in London, where our old friend Señor Peter may have stayed when he was last in England. It is near the Deptford docks, many foreigners seem to feel comfortable lodging there, and a young man matching his description was there for many weeks a year or so ago. I need you to go stay there and find out who his visitors might have been.’

  To go to London, now? John thought of Alys, alone in the midst of the court, and he realised he did not want to leave her so unprotected now. ‘Now, Matthew? This is the busiest season at court.’

  ‘And the busiest in London. We must move before his tracks are completely covered.’ Matthew studied John carefully for a long, silent moment. ‘You need have no fear for Lady Alys. She is well watched here and will come to no harm.’

  ‘I owe her so much, owe her my life,’ John said. ‘I won’t let her be caught in the middle of any vile plots here at court.’

  ‘She won’t be, unless she seeks it herself. She doesn’t seem like a young lady who shrinks from danger.’

  ‘She will help those who need it. I can’t imagine she herself would be involved in any plots.’

  Matthew shrugged. ‘You never know how people will behave once they are in the midst of court. It is a strange place, John, you know that as well as I do.
It changes people.’

  ‘Not Alys,’ John argued. Surely even the hard coldness of court could not change her kind heart.

  ‘As you say. But she will be guarded in your absence, John, have no fear for her. With a fast horse, your errand should not take more than a few days.’

  John nodded. He knew he could not refuse. ‘Of course. I will be quick.’

  ‘Very good. Now, it does grow late and you must depart at first light. You should seek your bed.’

  ‘Aye. Goodnight to you, Matthew.’

  As John rose and reached for the door latch, Matthew’s soft voice called, ‘Always remember, John—feelings must have no part in our work or we are done for.’

  John could only nod. He made his way down the narrow stairs from Matthew’s tower, but he didn’t seek his own lodgings. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep yet and he needed some air after the stuffiness of the palace, the long evening of merriment. He went out to the deserted gardens, breathing deeply of the cold river air as he strolled the pathway along the stone walls.

  Around the corner, he came to a window high up, still lit despite the lateness of the hour. Shadows danced and flitted past, and he knew it was the maids’ chamber. Was Alys in there, one of the ghostly dancing figures, laughing with the others?

  He hoped she did laugh, that court did not frighten her. If only—if only he could be the one to make her smile, to protect her from all she didn’t yet know, couldn’t fathom about this new world she lived in. But he knew he could not.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘Holly and ivy, box and bay, put in the house for Christmas Day! Fa-la-la-la...’

  Despite her preoccupation with thoughts of John, and his words of caution in the garden, Alys had to smile at the sound of the familiar song. Even the maidservants at Dunboyton sang it every year, as they bedecked the draughty old castle hall for Christmas. It was a comfort to hear it, to feel that a few small things stayed the same in the strange world of the court.