On the Altar of England
Tudor Chronicles Book Four
On the Altar of England © 2016 W L Sutton .
All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form without the prior written consent of the author/publisher or the terms relayed to you herein.
This is a work of fiction.
References to historical events, real people or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Robert Dudley by Steven van der Meulen 1560
Unknown woman 1570 by unknown artist. Oil on panel
On the Altar of England
For Sid and Carrie,
with much affection and gratitude as always,
and for T – “my Robin”
Table of Contents
Title Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Part Two
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Epilogue - 25th December 1634
Author's Note
Follow Up
Chapter 1
ettice Dudley, Countess of Leicester, walked into her solar from the garden, carrying stems of lilies for the vase waiting on the dresser. Tending her flower and herb garden had become one of her favourite pastimes, and she turned to gaze out of the window at the beautiful blooms arrayed in formal, well- tended beds. She grew both lilies and roses to enable her to distil perfume from the petals, and cultivated herbs and lavender to scent her clothes and the rooms of the house.
She blinked slightly as her eyes became accustomed to the change in the light and stepped across the room, one hand full of the heady blooms and the other lifting the hem of her rich blue damask gown so she didn’t catch her slipper in the hem. The sumptuous fabric glowed as it caught the light from the window, and the blue was reflected in the sapphire and diamond necklace Lettice wore to match the studs and combs which twinkled in her copper hair.
A subtle change of air disturbed her concentration, and looking up from her task of arranging the tall blooms, she became aware of the lofty figure standing in the doorway to the hall. He was clad, as ever, in unfashionably long leather breeches, with a matching leather doublet slashed with burgundy and adorned with brass studs. They were practical garments worn by a man for whom fashion wasn’t a consideration, and his empty scabbard slapped the tops of his high boots. The small sheath at his belt which contained his dagger however, was never left empty.
‘My Lady.’
‘Thomas.’ Lettice beamed at the tall bearded man as he swept her a bow, staying lower with her than he ever did with anyone else, even her husband. She stretched her hand out and clasped his bicep, raising him to standing and looking up into his ice blue eyes.
‘You want to speak to me, Thomas?’ Lettice smiled upwards at her husband’s most loyal servant, now charged with her safety.
‘If you have a moment, my Lady. If not, it will keep.’ Thomas met Lettice’s dark eyes and then swept his gaze downwards; he was still uncomfortable making eye contact with his employer’s beautiful wife.
‘Thomas,’ sighed Lettice, as she put down the flowers in her other hand, ‘we are friends, are we not? You have seen me at my worst and my best. I will always have a moment for you.’
Thomas gazed down at Lettice, who barely came up to his shoulder, and nodded briefly acknowledging her words. It was he who had seen her to safety when she had been beaten by her first husband, and he had also been a witness to her delight at the proposal of marriage she had received from his master Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester. Now he was assigned to protect his master’s precious wife.
‘I would ask a favour, my Lady.’
‘Of me, Thomas, or of my husband?’ Lettice smiled upwards and then walked slowly across to the large chair set by the hearth. ‘Come Thomas, please sit and tell me how I can help.’
‘My Lady!’ Lettice smothered a smile at the scandalised tone Thomas used at her suggestion.
‘Thomas, I am huge. I need to sit down and you are too tall for me to look up at you when we speak. If you cannot bring yourself to sit in Robin’s chair,’ she swept an arm towards the companion chair opposite her own, ‘then pull up that stool. But please sit, Thomas, I beg you.’
Thomas dragged one of the fireside stools from against the wall and placed it in front of the other chair, perching gingerly on it and adjusting his scabbard to the side as it dragged along the polished floor.
‘So, Thomas. How can we help?’ Lettice leaned as far forward as she was able over the bulk of the child in her belly and smiled encouragingly.
‘It concerns my sister’s boy, my Lady.’ Thomas’s flat tones betrayed no emotion as he spoke of his family, but Lettice could tell that the child was important to him.
‘I did not know your sister had a son, Thomas. How old is he?’
‘Almost twelve, my Lady. And a good lad.’
‘And?’ Lettice knew there was something else that the notoriously taciturn man wished to discuss. He rarely spoke of his family, and her husband had told her that Thomas’s mother and siste
r served at the estate of Robert’s brother Ambrose.
‘My sister is ill with her latest child, my Lady. Should the worst happen, her husband would not wish to care for the boy.’
‘Not care for his son, Thomas? What manner of man is he that wouldn’t want to nurture his own son?’ Lettice was scandalised; her children had always been the first consideration for her and for her husband, even though they were not his own.
‘Not his son, my Lady. My sister already had the boy when they wed. Her husband took her and the child on, but should she be ill, or worse,’ Lettice heard the roughness of emotion in the normally flat tones, ‘he wouldn’t want another man’s son to support as well as his own.’ Lettice heard Thomas speak the words carefully, giving no inflection to how outraged he must feel at the situation.
‘You would care for the boy yourself, Thomas?’
Thomas inclined his head sharply in a nod and gazed at Lettice implacably.
‘He is my blood, my Lady. I would have him raised to be better than I am.’
Lettice reached out and covered Thomas’ hand with her own tiny one, ignoring the flinch she felt as she touched his warm flesh.
‘You are a fine man, Thomas. You are brave and loyal. If you wish to bring your nephew here, he can join the squires that Robin trains if you would want that?’
‘My Lady,’ Thomas’ tone lightened, ‘that would be wonderful. If he could start with Lord Robert as a squire, he might become a soldier when he is grown.’
‘We would be pleased for him to join our household, Thomas. Training with my son Robert and my brother Dickon, I’m sure he will make friends here.’
‘Thank you, my Lady. It will be a weight off my sister’s mind while she is so ill.’
‘Then you must fetch him here at once Thomas. As soon as your sister can bear to let him go, you must bring him to us. What is his name?’
‘Christopher, my Lady. But everyone calls him Kytt.’
***
Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester and Master of Horse for Queen Elizabeth, threw his jewelled gloves and cap on the table and strode swiftly into the candle-lit dining room. The diamonds and pearls encrusting his doublet reflected the candles in thousands of tiny points of light as he moved from the door, and his dark eyes shone as he spied his beautiful wife seated at the enormous oak table.
‘I am so sorry I am late, my love. I just couldn’t get away from the ambassador.’
He moved quickly to give his wife a loving kiss on her lips and then sat wearily down by her side. Lettice smiled sympathetically and shook her head.
‘It is of no matter, Robin. We have kept some food warm for you, although I have had to eat mine,’ she rubbed her hand over her distended belly, ‘otherwise I wouldn’t sleep.’
Robert put his hand over hers and raised an eyebrow, his tone anxious and urgent.
‘You are well, Lily? Nothing is wrong?’
Lettice stroked her delicate fingers through the short beard roughening his cheeks and he turned his head to kiss her palm.
‘I am quite well, Robin. I am enormous, and our child is strong inside me so I tire easily, but all is well this time. We shall have a healthy babe, I’m sure of it.’
Robert let his breath sigh out and he closed his eyes as she cupped his cheek. Lettice knew how much he worried for her health after her last miscarriage, but the babe she carried this time felt very much like her other successful pregnancies. She knew this one would go to term and not be lost to them. She reached out and rang the tiny hand bell at the side of her plate and the maid appeared.
‘Cissy, could you bring Lord Robert his meal please.’ Cissy bobbed her curtsey and disappeared through the door to the kitchen. Robert rose smoothly to his feet to pour himself some wine from the carafe set on a tray with goblets on the dresser.
‘How has your day been, lovely Lily?’ Robert smiled across at his beautiful wife, addressing her as always by the name he had given her in honour of the perfume she wore. He gestured with the carafe of wine, offering her a cup but she shook her head smilingly.
‘I have been here, Robin, taking care of the house and making sure I put my feet up at every opportunity. Planning your supper so if you were delayed at court it wouldn’t be ruined.’ She smiled and shrugged, ‘A simple day, my love.’
Robert sat down beside her and kissed her hand. ‘My sister Kit sends her regards and will come and see you as soon as she is able,’ he snorted a laugh, ‘and will bring you all the gossip.’
‘That would be lovely, Robin. She always has the best gossip, and can describe the gowns and scandal so beautifully, I feel I am there.’ Lettice smiled as Robert sighed heavily, rubbing his thumb over her filigree wedding band which was the only ring she wore as her pregnancy progressed and her fingers swelled. His lips twisted wryly and he frowned.
‘I wish you were there, my love. There with me every day.’
Lettice gazed into his dark eyes and shook her head, smiling brightly. ‘Don’t be sad for me, Robin. We both knew the Queen would be angry that we married, but fear of her anger didn’t stop us. I would rather be here in disgrace, and married to you, than sneaking about at court living a lie.’
The door opened and the maid staggered in, heavily laden with a tray filled with slices of juicy cooked meats, warm rolls, fruit in syrup and various cheeses. She placed the tray gently on the dresser and brought the various plates to the table, arranging them so they were near at hand.
‘Thank you Cissy,’ Robert inclined his head in thanks and the maid bobbed a curtsey, making the ribbons on her cap quiver, ‘tell Cook I am grateful for the warm rolls.’ He smiled and the maid bobbed another curtsey and left through the kitchen door in a flurry of heavy brown cotton skirts, blushing furiously at being spoken to by Lord Robert.
Lettice chuckled at the effect her husband had on the maid, and spread a roll with butter as Robert selected some meat from the platter.
‘You always seem to have such a strange effect on the staff, Robin. They lose the power to speak in your presence, it seems. Why, even Thomas ….’
‘Thomas?’ Robert scoffed a laugh, ‘Thomas isn’t afraid of me, Lily. Why should he be?’ His brows rose and he shook his head in bewilderment, ‘Why should any of them be?’
‘You overwhelm them, Robin. The force of your personality,’ Lettice had started to laugh through her words and Robert gave her an amused look as he ate, ‘and your exalted position,’ he snorted derisively, ‘strike them almost dumb.’
Robert shook his head again as he chewed and Lettice sipped her ale as she watched him eat, seeing his jaw moving smoothly under his beard and gazing at the column of his throat as he swallowed. Watching him was one of her pleasures and she smiled into his eyes; he knew she was enjoying being with him.
‘You said “even Thomas” Lily. Is there something I should know?’ Robert took a swift gulp of wine to clear his mouth before selecting some fruit.
‘Did you know he has a nephew, Robin? His sister’s boy, younger than Dickon, I think.’ Lettice raised her brows in question and Robert thought carefully as he peeled an apple.
‘I knew his sister had married a man from Ambrose’s estate. And I knew Thomas had helped with the dowry, but I don’t know if he mentioned she had children.’ Robert sliced the apple with the dagger at his belt and passed Lettice a piece on the blade. She smiled her thanks and shrugged slightly.
‘Well, his sister is having a difficult time with her current pregnancy, and her eldest isn’t her husband’s son, it seems.’ Robert raised his eyebrow and looked at her quizzically. ‘So,’ Lettice continued, ‘he would like the boy, Kytt, to come to train in our household. If you approve, that is.’
‘Approve, Lily? Thomas is such to me, and to you, that I can never repay him in twenty lifetimes for all he has done for us. For me. I would welcome a chance to make reparation. Training his nephew would be a pleasure.’ Robert smiled as Lettice beamed in delight at the opportunity to help Thomas.
Robert swallowed the last of his wine and stood, holding out his hand to help Lettice to her feet. Her embroidered dove grey silk gown was full at the front, falling from under the bust to cover the bulge of child, and the silk whispered as she rose from her chair. Her lace-tipped ruff rose behind her head, framing her face and hair, and glinting with tiny diamonds stitched into the diaphanous fabric.
‘Come to bed, my love. I shall need to be up early to get back to court and I would like a few hours rest before then.’
Lettice stood cautiously and smiled up at Robert through her lashes, ‘I am sorry your days are so long, Robin. Fulfilling your duties at court then rushing to see me before hastening back. We never seem to have long together before you are gone.’
Robert bent his head and rested his forehead against Lettice’s, whispering down to her before brushing her lips with his own.
‘I live for moments with you, lovely Lily. The briefest time with you shows me how false the life at court really is. You are real; my life with you is real. When I am there, I perform as in a masque and I long to be back here with you.’ He bent and swept her up into his arms as she giggled delightedly and hid her head in his shoulder.
‘Robin, I am enormous. Too heavy for you to carry up the stairs to bed.’ Lettice’s voice rose in excitement as Robert carried her though the doorway to the foot of the staircase.
‘You are beautiful, my love, and weigh hardly more than a feather. And a lord in my, what did you call it? My “exalted position”? Such a great lord should be able to carry off such a prize as I won in you to his bedchamber whenever he chooses.’ Robert wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and Lettice’s shouts of laughter echoed along the gallery as he climbed the stairs easily and deposited her in the centre of their enormous bed.
‘Robin, you should rest.’ Lettice smiled as Robert slid his feet out of his boots and began unfastening the clasps on his doublet. He padded across the room and slid the bolt across the door.
On the Altar of England (Tudor Chronicles Book 4) Page 1
