There were strange, crooked lines and ominous-looking Latin words. Yet there was nothing at all to tell her what it meant. If this was indeed her own horoscope, how could she know what it was telling her?
Then again, she remembered how wrong Master Constable’s horoscope for Violet sounded. How he told her she was of a “melancholic” nature and had to marry immediately to keep the unhappiness at bay and the humors in balance. She also remembered how beyond all control he seemed at Lady Knollys’s séance. What were his powers, if any? Could she trust this at all?
She had to find someone who could help her read these charts. Yet who could be trusted to keep them a secret? She needed time to think about it all, yet she sensed that was one luxury she did not have. The court would not be at Nonsuch long. She had to find out what Constable wanted in giving these to her, of all people.
She started to carefully reroll the two horoscopes and suddenly noticed tiny black letters on the back of the smaller one, almost too small to be seen. Boleyn, Beware.
Kate clapped her hand to her mouth to hold back a cry. Surely these were part of the reason she had been attacked! No Boleyn was safe now, it seemed. Did her attacker know her true lineage?
A knock suddenly sounded at the door, making her drop the papers. She hastily shoved them under her bolster again and crawled back beneath the blankets. She tried to look fragile and ill, as if she had heeded all warnings and would be meek and biddable from then on.
But if she was a Boleyn, she feared there was no chance of that.
“Enter,” she called.
To her surprise, it was not a servant or a doctor, or Mistress Ashley with more of her possets, but Rob Cartman. He looked uncertain as he stepped inside, almost wary.
“I heard that you had a fall, Kate,” he said quietly. He crossed his arms over his chest, staying near the door.
Kate nodded. That was the tale the queen had given out, that Kate had tripped and fallen in the garden, suddenly seized in a faint. She didn’t know who would believe it, not after Dr. Macey was found in the same maze, but none dared question the queen.
“I will recover soon,” she said. “We will have Lord Arundel’s masque as planned—and Lord Hunsdon will see your theatrical skills on full display. That is what you came here for, aye? To find a new patron?”
He looked surprised, but he covered it very quickly with a smile. “That is not the only reason I came here, Kate. I wanted to see you again.”
To see her? After so long with no word? Kate could not believe it. “Why? I have heard naught from you in many months.”
“But you saved my life, when I was trapped in gaol. I can never forget that. Never forget how brave you were, how . . .” Rob broke off on a growl and raked his hand through his hair. The golden strands stuck straight up, and somehow it made him even more handsome.
Yet was he acting, as Kate feared he always was?
“We must all earn our bread in the world,” he said quietly. “I am responsible for my uncle’s troupe now, and the only way I can do that now is by finding a patron any way I can—or else tramp along the roads in all seasons. I know you understand. You must work just the same.”
Kate nodded. She had no dowry, no fine family—at least none that could be anything but a deeply buried secret. She had her music, loved serving the queen. But sometimes . . .
She closed her eyes. Nay. Some things could not be changed. She had a fine life, all on her own, and she was fortunate for it. She didn’t need to be thinking of love or marriage.
“I will help you finish the masque,” she said. “I should be well enough tomorrow.”
He nodded, but his expression shifted from wariness to—what? She couldn’t read his eyes now. “Kate—was it truly only a fall? You are not the sort to be clumsy.”
Did he care? She couldn’t hope for that. Not now. She forced herself to laugh. “Everyone trips over obstacles sometimes, do they not? I am well, I promise.”
“I do hope that you are being careful here at court, since your father is away,” he said quietly. “You need someone to protect you.”
Kate gave a wry laugh. She was learning how to protect herself now. She had to. “You are one to talk about being careful, Rob Cartman. You have been in danger every moment I have known you.”
He laughed, too, and suddenly he looked like the man she had first known at Hatfield. Young, impetuous, almost arrogant. Fun. “It does come with being an actor. But I would not wish such a life on you. I had no choice in the matter; I had to be an actor like my uncle. But you have a choice.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, and Kate remembered that he had said his uncle once came to Nonsuch, too, to play for the old king. His uncle had fallen into a deadly fate. Surely Rob would not do the same?
He suddenly turned and left the chamber, the door clicking shut behind him, and Kate was alone again. She slipped her fingertips under the bolster and touched the horoscopes hidden there. If she could read them, would they tell her what she should do? Because she feared she would always be unsure of where to turn next.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“I cannot bear to talk of such things today! My head aches,” Queen Elizabeth cried. “Why must we speak of this now? I am to meet Sir Robert at the stables to look at a new mare. He is Master of the Horse and most careful of his position.”
“And that is exactly why we must speak now, Your Majesty,” William Cecil answered. His tone was quiet, careful, but taut, as if his patience was close to snapping. “Because of the great amount of time you have been spending lately with Dudley.”
Kate bent her head lower over her lute, trying to play as quietly as possible while still having the song as an excuse to stay in Elizabeth’s bedchamber. Trying to shrink farther back into the window seat so she would be forgotten. She had stayed in bed for only a day, but she had insisted on getting up to attend the queen that morning. She couldn’t lie alone thinking anymore.
It was a beautiful summer afternoon, the light peachy golden outside the window, the breeze smelling of sweet roses. Outside the tents, tables were laid out for games of primero, and there were plenty of goblets of wine and platters of fruit for a lazy afternoon. Couples rowed on the lake or lingered in the shade of the Grecian temples. But Elizabeth was still in her chamber, still dressed in a lace-trimmed bed robe with her hair loose over her shoulders. Only Kat Ashley and William Cecil attended her. She had sent everyone else away.
Except for Kate, half-hidden behind the heavy brocade drapery.
Elizabeth leaped to her feet, nearly toppling over her chair. Her cheeks were a hectic pink, her eyes blazing. “How dare you, Cecil! I am the queen. I shall have friendships where I choose. Robert Dudley and his family have long been most loyal to me, to the Protestant faith.”
Kat Ashley reached out as if to touch Elizabeth’s arm, to soothe her, but the queen shook her away. The lush Turkish carpets muffled each of her steps as she paced back and forth, and Cecil simply watched her silently from where he stood near the door, leaning on his ever-present walking stick. His lined, bearded face looked weary and resigned, yet calm.
“No one questions Sir Robert’s faith, Your Majesty,” he said. “Yet it is because you are queen that I must speak to you thus. Surely you remember the dangers of the road that brought us here? The dangers still around?”
Elizabeth’s head whipped around, her hair like a rope. “No one needs to remind me of what it took to claim my rightful throne,” she shouted.
“Then you know that Philip of Spain would love nothing more than to gain a foothold in this land again,” Cecil said. “That Mary of Scotland is now Queen of France and claims to be the rightful queen of England as well. A scandal now could be ruinous, not just here but in courts all over Europe. Sir Robert Dudley is married, Your Majesty, no matter how ill his wife might be. If it was thought you were . . . romantically entangled . . .”<
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Elizabeth’s hands shot up, her long fingers curled into fists, only to crash down on a table. Silver goblets clattered to the floor, spilling wine on the priceless carpets. “What care I for gossips? They will always say whatever they choose, no matter what I do. Sir Robert is my friend. I spent too long without friends, too long being careful of every step, every word. Cut off from everyone I cared for.” Her angry shout faded to a hoarse murmur, deeply sad. “Do I not deserve to enjoy my life now? Just for this summer?”
Cecil’s mouth tightened. “You have an entire kingdom to think of now, Your Majesty. And it is in danger. You must marry and give your subjects an heir, if we are not to return to life as it was under your sister’s rule.”
Elizabeth dropped down onto a stool, shaking her head. But there was no denial, even for her. “My reign is but new. There is time for such things later.”
Cecil shook his head impatiently. “There is no such time! Not any longer. Mary of Scotland will not wait to press her advantage. You must choose a suitor. Soon. It should have been finished months ago.”
Elizabeth waved her hand as if she would push away his words. “Have I not always had a care for my people, at every moment? I care for them now, and they love me. I saw it on the journey here, as did you. I do have time, just for a little longer.”
“There is Archduke Charles of Austria,” Cecil pressed on. “A most suitable choice. A younger son, so he would reside here in England. Young and vigorous, they do say.”
“I will marry no Catholic!” Elizabeth cried. “Look what happened when my sister married one.”
“Then Eric of Sweden,” Cecil said. “Or the Duke of Casimir. Or Lord Maitland of Scotland, who is on his way to visit your court even as we speak. Or even an Englishman of some suitable rank, if you must. But it must be very soon, Your Majesty.”
“I told you—I need no one to tell me of my duty to England,” Elizabeth said through gritted teeth. At least it was no longer shouting. “I will look at every candidate most closely, Cecil, I promise you. But I will not be bartered off like a cartful of turnips, locked away to be a mere broodmare to some foreign lord.”
“Then will you at least meet with the privy council tomorrow, Your Majesty?” Cecil said. “There are many matters to discuss, marriage only one of them, and you have not sat with them in weeks. The papers that must be signed are barely looked at.”
“It is summer, Cecil,” Elizabeth said, her fingers tapping a frantic pattern on the wooden arm of her chair. “We are on progress, meeting our own people, enjoying the fair weather, the peaceful days. There is to be another hunt tomorrow, I think, and a masque.”
Cecil bowed his head, but even Kate could see the stony set of his expression.
Elizabeth sighed. “Very well. I shall meet with the privy council in the morning. Now I am tired. I must rest before tonight’s banquet.”
Cecil nodded at this dismissal and turned to leave the chamber. Through all his years of serving Elizabeth, and her father and siblings before her, he knew when to press and when to retreat. When to let the queen turn matters over in her own mind and reach her own decisions.
As he passed Kate’s window seat, he leaned close for a moment and murmured, “Shall we speak soon, Mistress Haywood? I have heard it has been some time since you had a lesson in reading codes. We need all the help we can find now, I think.”
Kate could only nod mutely, her lute going silent in her hands. She, too, had missed the brief lessons she took from his men after the coronation, and she wanted to be of help in any way she could now.
As the door closed behind him, Kate turned back to look at the queen. Elizabeth raged silently, throwing books to the floor, her cheeks flaming a hectic, fevered red. Kate longed to run to her, but she knew she could not. Not now, when the queen was caught in the grip of a temper. Kate knew too well the feeling of being trapped by circumstances not of her own making, a family too complicated to fathom. Even Kat Ashley stood back, watching Elizabeth with tears in her faded eyes.
“My lovey,” Kat said sadly. “You do know what he says is true. We have all waited so long for this time, for when you would be queen. We have worked and sacrificed for it, for you, so you could fulfill your destiny. Robert Dudley is not worth the ruination of all that.”
“Enough!” Elizabeth screamed. “I will hear no more of it, not even from you, Kat. Do you understand? No more!” And she snatched up a heavy glass perfume bottle from her table and sent it crashing against the wall.
Kat Ashley retreated, her face buried in her hands. Elizabeth collapsed to the carpet.
Kate had never been more uncertain of what to do next. The queen at last sat huddled on the floor, her hands clutched in her loose hair, as still and pale as one of the marble statues in the garden. Kate knew Elizabeth would never want anyone to see her thus, so vulnerable.
But neither could Kate bring herself to leave Elizabeth alone. She had seen the queen merry, laughing, dancing, angry, furious. But not so sad—not since Hatfield, when Mary was queen and everything was so dangerously uncertain.
At last, Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet. She moved slowly, carefully, as if she was much older than her twenty-six years.
Elizabeth shook back her hair and sat down again on her abandoned seat. She smoothed the satin of her robe with her hands, and her dark eyes stared ahead into something surely no one else could fathom. Slowly, the sounds of the day outside trickled back into the chamber, the laughter, the voices.
Kate was sure the queen had forgotten she was still there. She started to back away, to leave Elizabeth to her haunted thoughts, but the queen suddenly turned sharply to look right at her. Her cheeks were still a feverish pink, her eyes burning.
“Do you also say I should marry, Kate?” she said, her voice hard, old.
Kate shook her head. “I say Your Majesty is the only one who can say what is the right action for you to take.”
Elizabeth sighed, and her shoulders slumped. Her posture was usually so perfect, so regal, but now she fell back in her chair as if she was unutterably weary.
“You remember what it was like at Hatfield, I know,” Elizabeth said. “Every moment so uncertain, so full of fear. Now . . . now I just wanted to know what it was like to be free. But the bars of the cage are closer than ever.”
Kate swallowed hard. She did not know what to say, how to comfort the queen, a woman whose entire life had been one of uncertainty and danger, ever since her mother died when she was three. She was now the most powerful person, man or woman, in the land, yet she was still surrounded by terrible risk.
“Robert Dudley is one of my oldest friends,” Elizabeth said softly, musingly, almost as if she was alone and speaking to herself. “We were in the Tower at the same time when my sister was queen, and he has always served me well. Always been one of the few people I could speak to honestly, as a person, a woman, not a princess. And I worry about him, about us. I do. And he’s so worried about my safety and now this mess with Dr. Dee, about what was found in the garden maze. Dr. Dee was his tutor once, and they’ve often corresponded over the years . . .” Elizabeth’s voice trailed off. “I do have hopes the hunt and masque tomorrow will distract him. You will help me with that, won’t you, Kate?”
Kate slowly nodded. “I will always help you, Your Majesty. I hope you do know that.” But Kate feared she could do only so much for the queen she loved. Maybe Master Constable had been right. The stars would never align for them now.
But then again—the stars could only predict. Humans themselves had the power to change events, and Kate intended to find her power now. She had to, for all their sakes.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“‘Perchance I may prefer thee well, for wedlock I love best! It is the most honorable estate, it passes all the rest.’”
Lady Catherine Grey was much improved in her role as the goddess Juno, Kate was relieved to s
ee, as the flock of her goddess acolytes danced across the stage amid clouds of white silk. She had learned her lines and even seemed rather enthusiastic as she waved her arms gracefully over her head and sang of the joys of relinquishing a single state for romance and marriage. Maybe she hoped, as Lord Arundel did with this masque, to persuade Queen Elizabeth of the benefits of marriage.
Or perhaps her smiles had to do with the crowds of courtiers who had gathered outside the open windows of the great hall to watch the rehearsal—including Lord Hertford, who had escaped from his mother. When Kate glanced at him over her lute, she saw that he observed Lady Catherine with a moonstruck smile on his handsome face. A smile that only widened as she spun around so fast her frothy white skirts swirled up to reveal her satin shoes and fine silk stockings.
Kate sighed. At that point in the rushed rehearsals, she could hardly care why Lady Catherine had learned her role so well, only that she had done it. Lord Arundel wished for the queen to see the masque that night, after the banquet, before she left Nonsuch, and there was still much to be done.
As Kate started to play her lute, she studied the scenery that was almost in place, the outline of the spires of the goddess’s temple in the background, the sylvan, nighttime glade where Juno and Diana met. Workmen hurried around to hang up the last of the sparkling stars among the clouds of white cheesecloth, guided by Rob Cartman. She hadn’t been able to speak to Rob about anything but the play, which suited her well. She wasn’t sure what to say to him when she was so confused.
But she had to admit—he was all too handsome, laughing in his loosened russet doublet, his white linen shirt half-unlaced. And too many of the other ladies noticed, too.
Kate quickly turned her attention back to the play. Everyone seemed to be learning their parts well, all most eager to impress the queen. Yet Kate feared she was the one distracted today. She couldn’t forget Roland and Green, their former friendship seemingly forgotten for some mysterious reason, and Violet’s tears when she was so sure she would be forced by her brother to marry Master Longville.
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