"Sorry, Doctor." Lucy apologised but her companions could see she was smothering giggles.
"Very well. I think we can agree that the trial is successful. Blow out your candle. We can't afford to waste them."
"Yes, Doctor. Bye." Lucy blew and the flame flared yellow and went out.
"So," said Walsingham. "You sail tomorrow then, Captain. No doubt you have much to occupy yourself." Walsingham dismissed him. "Would you stay behind for a moment, Lucy?"
Walsingham waited until they were alone, well almost alone except for Gwilym, who went where Lucy went. The ancients used to call slaves "furniture with tongues" because foolish men forgot the tongues and suffered for their error when the slaves spoke of secrets best unrevealed. Walsingham had no worries about Gwilym because he was not a slave but a trusted retainer, tied by loyalties of blood and honour to Walsingham's household.
"Are you sure of this, Lucy? It is not too late to express doubts. Even now I can remove you from the enterprise."
"Hush, Uncle," Lucy touched his lips with her fingers. "Without me there is no enterprise. I am content."
Lucy rested her hand on William's arm as they walked the length of the waist deck. Her maid and Gwillym were but four paces behind, deep in conversation. "Do you still want to come now you have tasted shipboard food?" asked William.
"The meal was—" Lucy groped for an appropriate word. "—extraordinary, that's it, extraordinary."
William threw back his head and laughed, "I will pass on your compliments to the cook."
"Where do you keep the oven?" asked Lucy. "I would have thought fire exceeding dangerous on a wooden, tarred vessel."
"Indeed it is. For that reason fires are traditionally restricted to deep within the vessel's hull, near the wet ballast. However, there are appalling noxious vapours there. Disease is as big a risk as fire on a crowded ship and has killed more sailors. Drake has pioneered methods to reduce sickness. One innovation is to move the oven to the fo'c's'le, which is where I place it."
Lucy walked over to the rail and looked towards the tower. The lights of London, Southwark, and the Bridge twinkled onto their reflections in the river. "They are like diamonds on a string around a brunette's neck," she said. "Or fairy lights."
"Your eyes shine more brightly, milady." William moved a little closer and took her hand. "Lucy, there is something I have been thinking about."
A drunken voice from the dock spoiled the atmosphere.
"So the little pixie said, you think I'm very small,
"but when I'm in the mood, maid, I'll tell you true what's tall."
The voice trailed off. "Ahoy the ship. Some worzle-banger has stolen the gangplank. Nah, here it is, they moved it. I'm coming aboard, ready or not and I'll fight the first man tha's gets in my way."
William craned his neck around Lucy and saw a drunken sailor wearing a woman's petticoats weaving up the gangplank. "Ferguson, again. I hope the drunken bastard falls in," William muttered. Two boatswain's mates made their way purposefully to the top of the gangplank. "Come over here, Lady Dennys." He steered the girl to the other side of the ship. William put his back against the rail and stood her in front of him so she looked at him and past him, to the river and lights of Southwark.
"Shouldn't you go and deal with that?" asked Lucy.
"Absolutely not," said William, appalled. "I would have to hang a drunken sailor for mutiny if he hit me. The boatswain's mates will deal with him." The cries reached a crescendo. There was the sound of a fist hitting human flesh and the thud of a body hitting the deck.
William paused to allow the miscreant to be dragged off. "I believe I can escort you to your quarters now, milady."
Lucy took her arm and led her to his cabin. Gwilym was sat with his back against the bulkhead by the door, whittling with a dagger.
"Good night, my lady," William said.
She extended her hand. He kissed it and she vanished within.
"Good night, Gwilym," said William.
"Captain." Gwilym inclined his head.
William left to make the rounds of the deck before retiring to the gentleman's cabin.
Later that night, Lilith noted that Lucy was tossing and turning. The girl was very excited.
'Would you like me to help you sleep,' Lilith asked.
'Yes, please. Lilith,' thought Lucy. 'Don't you ever sleep?'
'No, not really. I spend time in resting where I update and sort files into archives before new data comes in, but I never shut down the way you do.' Lilith gently smoothed Lucy's brain waves into sleep patterns.
'Do you know why we sleep?' Lucy asked.
'That's a very good question that I am not sure that I can answer. You need physical rest, of course, but I suspect you unconsciously update your own memory archives while you are asleep. Lucy?'
Lucy didn't answer. Lilith touched her brain and felt the wave pattern. 'Sleep tight my friend,' she thought, softly, and withdrew within herself.
The next day Lucy was up with the dawn. William had suffered a busy night, having been dragged from his bunk to deal with the last of the shore-leave dregs. "You look refreshed, milady," he said, sourly. The only thing worse than a bad head in the morning was wide-eyed, happy people around.
"What are you doing?" asked Lucy.
William sat behind a desk that had been placed on the main deck. The boatswain stood beside him. "Punishment parade. After the traditional last run ashore comes the traditional captain's punishment parade. Now go over there, milady, while I undertake my duties."
Two boatswain's mates hauled a sailor at the double up before the desk. He was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other, partly because he still wore a lady's petticoat. He stood swaying in front of the captain. William observed him like a natural philosopher finding a new type of beetle. "Ferguson, again! What is it with you, sailor? Do you like punishment parade?" asked William.
"No, sir," came the reply.
"Charges?" asked William.
"Drunkenness, sir, and calling a petty officer a whoreson."
"These are serious charges, Ferguson," said William, gravely. "I notice you have a black eye. How did you acquire that?"
"Fell over, sir," the sailor said, adjusting his petticoat.
"So you have no quarrel with your treatment last night?"
"No, sir."
"You know the routine by now. Will you accept my punishment or do you want to claim your entitlement to a trial ashore?"
"Your punishment, sir."
"Very well. You're a disgrace to the ship, to your fellow sailors and to me. You are banned from another shore run for two weeks and will be on punishment duty for a week. Dismissed. No, don't try to salute. Just go."
'Why is he banning shore leave for the man when the ship will be at sea anyway?' thought Lilith.
'I am not sure. It's some sort of man thing. Punishment must be given even if it is meaningless. But we have been dismissed by our new supreme commander—go over there while I undertake my duties, hah!—so, I suggest we go into town. Where are Millie and Gwilym?'
Later that morning, William made his way towards the Tower. He had not seen Lucy go and was slightly miffed that she had disappeared before he could talk to her. Women were so capricious, flouncing off for no apparent reason. William managed to drag the walk to the Tower out to a full hour, for no better reason than he needed time to think and gather his courage. Drake had once told him that there was a time for a quick dash and a time for the long campaign and he had wisely chosen the latter strategy when dealing with Lucy Dennys. But Drake had also said that bold attack was the end point of any campaign and that one should never mistake dithering for wisdom. He was now dithering and it had to stop.
He plotted a course to Walsingham's office and put himself on a fast tack. Then he bumped into someone. "Ah, Lady Dennys. I didn't see you leave."
"You said go over there so I went, Captain."
"Yes but I didn't mean," He was floundering again. He took a firm
grip on his mouth. "I need to talk to you. I have to tell you something."
"Indeed, captain. I am sure that I am at your disposal, as I always am when you have a short gap in the endless list of responsibilities."
"Lucy, please be quiet," he said, desperately.
She obediently shut her mouth in mock fear.
Now or never. "I have to tell you, that I about to inform your uncle, that when I get back, that is when we get back, from the Americas that is . . ."
"Is this going somewhere? Because we sail in only three hours," she asked, interurpting.
"I am about to tell your uncle that I will ask for your hand when we return," said William, in one rush.
She just stood there and looked at him, mouth open.
"I was going to mention it to you first but you had gone somewhere," William said, rather weakly.
"Mention it to me, sir, mention it to me? You thought you might mention it to me?" she said, her voice rising and disturbing a flock of starlings.
"Well, it seemed polite," said William.
"Polite!"
"Marriage arrangements are a matter between men," he said, stiffly, realising that she was not entirely happy with his decision.
"Is it so? In that case, mayhap you should marry a man and leave me out of it altogether," she said, hotly.
"Lucy," he began.
"Don't 'Lucy' me, you arrogant, self-opinionated, self-centred, cocksure provincial. I am Lady Dennys to you. What makes you think that I am destined for the likes of you? How dare you take this step without a by-your-leave?"
The sparrows departed to a gentler place. Tower officials and guards stopped to watch and enjoy the sparks. Gwilym examined the sky.
"I do not like your tone, milady. When we are married you will, perforce, moderate it," William said.
"When this business is finished, you will not have to suffer my tone again. We will not meet again," she said, with finality.
"When this business is finished, we will marry." William said coldly. He was used to being treated with a degree of deference, not as an upstart yokel.
"And where would we live? Will you be taking a house in Surrey and presenting yourself at court? How good are you at poetry, Captain? Or would you expect to dump me among the hogs and your cast-off tavern girls in Plymouth, while you went a-roving? I would as soon as marry an Irish tinker as you." Lucy looked him boldly in the eye.
"I will marry you, milady, even though you be a shrew that no other man will tolerate." William was white with anger. He grabbed her by the upper arms.
"Shrew, am I? Unhand me, sir," she said, equally furious.
"Because you say so? Mayhap you have too often had free with your will, milady. Now I will have free with mine."
Lucy opened her mouth to express her opinion on that, when he pulled her to him and pressed his mouth hard on hers. All the girl got out was an outraged squawk. He took his time with the kiss, despite her struggles. When he released her, she stepped back, panting and wide-eyed.
"Your servant, milady," he said, insincerely. William bowed and walked off leaving her with an open mouth.
Lucy stamped her foot. "Insufferable man."
Lilith just did not know what to say. Lucy's thoughts were a maelstrom that was painful to interpret. Emotion after emotion chased across her head. Lilith was not sure whether to comment or stay silent. Lucy was liable to misinterpret either strategy. Lilith began to appreciate the terrible complexity of human mating behaviour. It was even worse than she had anticipated. Eventually, Lucy solved her dilemma by addressing her first.
'Did you see what he did?' Lucy's thoughts emoted outrage.
'I was aware of the situation,' thought Lilith, as neutrally as she could.
'In public! To manhandle me in public!'
'Surely, it would have been improper in private.' Lilith thought without due consideration, and Lucy pounced on it.
'It is even more improper in public. He treated me like a tavern girl.'
'But why did you let him then, Lucy, if it offended you so?' Lilith was confused. 'Why did you not just push him away?'
'How could I, demon? He is twice my size.'
'Twice your size perhaps, but you are twice his strength, are you not?' There was a long pause while another set of complex emotions flickered across Lucy's consciousness. Lilith continued. 'I was close enough to monitor his physiology, his blood pressure, heartbeat, and skin conductivity. It seems to me, Lucy, that you struggled just enough to cause maximum impact on his biochemistry but not enough to escape. Is that a component of human mating behaviour?'
'Lilith, I will evict you if you speak to me of this again, even though it kills us both.'
"Come in," said Walsingham in reply to William's knock. "Ah, Captain."
William marched over to Walsingham's desk and came to attention stiffly in front of it, like a sailor on punishment parade. Walsingham noted his pallor.
"Sir," said William formerly. "I beg your indulgence to speak to you on a matter concerning your niece."
"Yes, Captain," said Walsingham, warily, pressing his hands together as if in prayer.
"I wish to inform you that I intend to ask for your niece's hand upon my return from the Americas."
Walsingham blinked.
"I am sure that I am hardly your idea of a perfect suitor. I could point out the advantage of a marriage alliance between the Boleyn and Hawkins clans, in the event of war with Spain. I could point out that Lady Dennys has shown scant interest in any of the aristocratic suitors placed before here. I could point out that many of the aristocracy might no longer favour an alliance with her, given the rumours that must already be circulating."
At this point, William noted that Walsingham's lips tightened. "But I will restrict myself to the following observation. I have fought alongside the lady. I have seen her courage and humanity. I have seen her laugh and cry and observed her triumphs and failures. I admire her more than any woman that I have ever met and I believe I can make her happy."
"So you love her, Captain." Walsingham observed. He sighed and pressed his hands against his eyes before continuing. "I should have anticipated that, Lucy is very appealing. But affection is an uncertain basis for a marriage, especially where there are so many other conflicting factors. You and she live in different worlds, you must see that."
William met his eyes boldly. "Then think of the political disadvantages of rejecting the suit, sir. The message it sends out is that we in Plymouth are good enough to officer your ships and to fight your battles but not to marry your daughters."
Walsingham came to a decision. "We will talk of this on your return, captain."
"Sir!" William turned to go.
"Captain." Walsingham stopped him. The spymaster seemed to have difficulty framing his next statement, which was most unlike him. "You will look after her on this voyage, won't you?" Walsingham was almost pleading.
"Sir," said William. "If harm comes to Lady Dennys, it will be because I am already dead. I have to prepare, if you will excuse me, sir." William saluted and left, his back ramrod straight.
As soon as he was clear, Lucy slid into the room.
"I take it you heard all that?" Walsingham said.
Lucy nodded and bit her lip. "I was outside the window."
"Our family has always believed that forewarned is forearmed. We ought to put it on the coat of arms," said Walsingham, dryly. Lilith thought the man looked tired. "Well, this is a pretty pickle that you have created, Lucy, and no mistake."
"He is a good man," said Lucy, defensively.
"That he is," said Walsingham. "A good man for a Plymouth pirate. For that is what he is, my girl, once you strip the romance away from his profession."
"He is right, though, Uncle. War with Spain is coming and that war will be fought at sea. How many of our ships will be designed, built, owned, or officered by the Plymouth families?" Lucy had spent too much time at court and around Walsingham to be politically naive.
"About
two-thirds to three-quarters," answered Walsingham.
"And what will happen if Spain makes a rapprochement with the Hawkins clan?" Lucy said.
"That is hardly likely." Walsingham waved a hand dismissively. "Elizabeth's government and the Hawkins family are united in the new religion. John Hawkins and Drake have much reason to hate papists."
"Perhaps, but political advantage can make strange bedfellows. What if Philip promised Plymouth that they could keep their religion and gave them trading rights in the Americas?"
"I am not unaware of the need to bind the London aristocracy and the Plymouth naval families together, Lucy. Do you remember when Hatton made a joke about knighting Drake? I wonder whether we should not take the idea seriously. Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Hawkins might sit well in Plymouth."
"Possibly, but let us not be mealy-mouthed, Uncle. The coinage of diplomacy is gold, treaties, fortresses, and women's bodies. And of these, women's bodies are the most durable because gold is spent, treaties are broken, and fortresses fall, but the children we produce unite families forever." Lucy turned and walked to the window.
There was a long silence. "You seem to be arguing that I should permit this alliance on political grounds. But there is your happiness to consider, Lucy."
Lucy had her back to her uncle, where she could see out of the window. In the distance, William was taking his temper out on a company of Swallows who had failed to carry out their arms drill to a sufficient standard. He had his back to her, head thrust aggressively forward, left hand on his hip, right on his sword hilt. Lilith picked up her thoughts. 'An arrogant, confident man, born to command other men.' A final echo disappeared below her consciousness, 'Born to command other men and women.'
Lucy spoke to her uncle without turning around, "I would not be the first girl who had to lie back and think of England." She paused and Lilith noticed that a small smile played around her lips. "But you know, Uncle, it might not be so bad."
Act 20
On Strange Seas
The Swallow ploughed down the narrow seas on the western approaches between England and France. The ship met the long Atlantic rollers up from the West Indies head on. Her bow crashed against each wave in turn in an unpleasant corkscrew motion. Every plunge thrust spray into the air, which the wind blew inboard. It was late in the summer to start a cruise across the world and a promise of autumn chill was in the sea air. Squalls of rain surrounded the ship, severely reducing visibility. William stood down in the bow lost to his thoughts. Here, close to the sea, under the fo'c's'le was the nearest to privacy that could be found on a crowded warship. He welcomed the cold spray and wind on his face. It suited his mood. The crew recognised their captain's black humour and left him to his reflections.
Lucy's Blade Page 35
