‘Aye, God willing,’ she agreed, seeming to recall her surroundings. But she continued to watch our mistress and the courtly Spaniard with an eager, narrowed gaze.
As the music and dancing began to draw to a close, I hurried back from the Great Hall to prepare the Lady Elizabeth’s bedchamber for her return. The sheets and bed-covers would need to be shaken out and freshened with herbs, her pot wiped clean and any soiled rushes swept away. Down one of the darker corridors, with only one guttering wall torch to light the way, I found my path blocked by a tall hooded man in dark robes.
‘Forgive me,’ I murmured, and tried to slip past the stranger, but he caught me by the arm.
‘Not so fast, Mistress Lytton.’
A Spanish accent. I looked at the man more closely, seeing a cruel dark face under the cowl of his robes. It was one of the Catholic priests who surrounded King Philip at court, whispering poison in his ear against the English. I disliked being cornered by such a man, particularly in this lonely place, surrounded by long and menacing shadows that seemed to creep in closer as we faced each other.
My tone was cold. ‘Do I know you, sir?’
He looked down at me through the flickering torchlight, studying me as a man might study an insect before he crushes it beneath his heel. ‘Not yet,’ he said lightly. ‘Nor should you ever wish to. My name is Miguel de Pero of the Inquisition.’
I shuddered. So he was one of them, the terrifying Spanish priests whose sole purpose was to torture and destroy any who did not follow the Catholic faith – but most especially those who professed any heretic beliefs or who were suspected of witchcraft. Against my will, I recalled Alejandro’s grim description of the Inquisition’s methods. Red-hot irons taken straight from the fire and applied to the flesh, spiked cages and barrels to break the limbs, heavy stones and chains that loosened the tongue, and the fearsome rack that could stretch a man’s spine until it snapped: these were but a few of the horrors in store for those under suspicion, innocent or not, who did not immediately confess their guilt.
‘I see you know our reputation,’ he murmured, the shadows thickening around us as he spoke. ‘Though a girl who consorts so frequently with a novice of the Order of Santiago de Compostela need not fear the Inquisition, surely?’
My heart ran cold at these words. What did he know?
Señor de Pero nodded, seeing my expression. ‘Yes, your growing intimacy with Alejandro de Castillo has not gone unnoticed at court. He may seem a humble novice to you. But Alejandro is the son of a great nobleman, with a wealthy family awaiting his return in Spain. If Alejandro marries at all, he will be expected to marry a woman of noble Spanish blood.’ His voice grew stern. ‘Not the serving girl of a suspected traitor.’
‘What do you want from me?’ I whispered, guessing the answer already but needing to hear it from his lips.
But the priest did not reply. He had stiffened, staring over my shoulder with a hint of anger in his frowning eyes.
I turned. Alejandro was striding along the dark corridor towards us, his cowl thrown back to reveal a tense expression. At the sight of him I wanted to shout his name with relief, yet somehow managed to bite my tongue. I did not want him to get into trouble with his superiors. Finishing his training meant so much to Alejandro, I could not have borne it if my words or actions meant he were refused a place among the other priests of his Order.
‘Meg?’ Alejandro demanded, reaching me swiftly. He caught my hands in his, his intent gaze searching my face. ‘Why are you so pale? What was Señor de Pero saying to you?’
‘Señor de Pero? Oh, he was just . . .’
I hesitated, not wishing to be the cause of an argument between Alejandro and his masters. But when I turned back, the corridor was empty except for its host of listening shadows.
The black-robed priest had vanished.
‘He was just asking me to convey his compliments to the Lady Elizabeth on her dancing,’ I finished lamely.
Alejandro did not believe a word of my explanation, I could tell by his frown. He must have already been warned away from me by his masters and knew their disapproval of our relationship. But the danger had been averted for the moment, and at least the Inquisition did not seem aware that I had once been accused of being a witch. They merely saw me as a threat to one of their young Spanish novices, an upstart nobody who must be removed before she ruined a promising career in the priesthood.
‘I see,’ he said drily.
He raised my hand to his lips and touched his lips to my skin. I remembered how passionately he had kissed me before the banquet, and felt my cheeks flare with heat again.
His voice was deep and exasperated. ‘Don’t wander off on your own like that again, do you hear me? I was frantic. I didn’t know where you’d gone. With the Inquisition on every corner, looking for ways to trick la princesa into some confession of Protestant guilt, you can’t be too careful.’
‘Yes, Alejandro,’ I said meekly, pretending to agree, but I knew he was not deceived.
‘The Queen only allowed her sister to return to court so she could humiliate her with the birth of this new heir to the throne. Do not be deceived into thinking the Lady Elizabeth is a free woman. The slightest indiscretion could see her back in prison – and you with her, Meg.’ His gaze burnt into mine. ‘Your lack of caution terrifies me. I know these men. They will hurt you, and enjoy their work.’
Slowly, Alejandro kissed my hand again, his mouth lingering on my skin, then released it. My hand tingled with the invisible imprint of his kiss, and I found it hard to breathe. Suddenly I could not look him in the eye, fearing the intensity of the emotions his touch stirred in me.
Alejandro insisted on escorting me back through the torchlit maze of courtyards and passageways to the Lady Elizabeth’s apartments, and for this I was secretly grateful. In my heightened state of anxiety, it seemed to me that one of the darker shadows had detached itself from the palace wall and slithered behind us most of the way. But I chose not to look at it too closely.
TWO
The Inquisition
‘On days like this, I almost wish I could be back at Woodstock Palace. At least there I was permitted to roam the grounds with a single guard. Here I am free in name only. I must ask permission even to descend to the courtyard gardens. And then it seems I must make my intention known to the Captain of the Guards and wait for proper accompaniment, whatever that entails!’
The Lady Elizabeth turned from the elegant leaded windows to look across at me with small hooded eyes that seethed with frustration, like a hawk kept too long on the wrist. Beyond the castle walls, it seemed summer was almost at hand. May sunlight lay in golden strips across the rushes between us. I could see the river gleaming brightly at the princess’s back while young lambs played in the lush green fields on the far bank.
‘And I miss my old governess, Kat Ashley. More than a governess, for in truth we are so close, she has been like a second mother to me. I had such a nightmare last night,’ she shuddered, ‘and when I tried to wake Blanche, she just snored. Kat would have known how to comfort me. But my sister’s advisors consider Kat too Protestant a companion for me. So they keep her away from me.’
‘A nightmare, my lady?’
Her face was a little flushed that morning, as though she had indeed slept badly, but she had tamed her hair into shining tresses and looked remarkably calm considering the danger of her position.
Since her sister the Queen had relaxed the terms of her imprisonment, Elizabeth had blossomed into a regal lady of the court. She still wore the most sombre gowns among those offered to her by the Queen’s wardrobe mistress, declining to outshine her sister in cloth of gold or russet satin, and wearing her hair demurely loose as befitted an unmarried lady of the court. Yet there was something about the way she held herself which told the world she was a princess born, and the legitimate daughter of King Henry, whatever the law might say on that contentious matter.
No doubt King Philip’s special attentions ha
d helped the Lady Elizabeth feel more confident at court, I considered, then chastised myself for such uncharitable thoughts. The princess was not interested in her sister’s husband, and could hardly help it if he was attracted to her. But she was clever enough not to spurn the King too openly, for one day she might need his protection against her sister’s ill will.
‘Oh, just some hideous creature watching me from the shadows. It was nothing, a foolish dream.’ The Lady Elizabeth forced a smile. ‘What else could it have been?’
The door opened and Blanche Parry came staggering in, red-faced and breathless under the weight of a great heap of silver and black cloth.
‘Look what I managed to glean from the royal wardrobe,’ Elizabeth’s lady-in-waiting exclaimed, laughing at our bemused expressions. ‘Come, Meg, help me with this and there could be a new gown or wrap in it for you. Why, you silly goose, don’t frown. You are permitted to look your best. You are at court now, remember?’
‘Why can we not go down into the palace gardens again, as we did when we first arrived, and play a game of croquet or quoits?’ Elizabeth demanded, watching us rummage through the pile of fine clothing. ‘I need the sun on my face. I cannot breathe in this stuffy room.’
Sitting down heavily beside me on the settle, Blanche Parry shook her head and comfortably began unstitching one of the sleeves.
‘Now, my lady, be patient and do not fuss so loud. You know well that the Queen’s Grace cannot bear to hear any sound outside her window, so the gardens have been forbidden to us until her child is born.’
‘That wretched child!’ Elizabeth exclaimed, forgetting to lower her voice. ‘We have been waiting weeks for him to make his appearance. I never heard of such a lengthy pregnancy. My sister must be an elephant, carrying her child a full year. I swear the Queen has been with child since late last summer. Will this much-awaited son and heir never be born?’
Blanche set aside the sleeve she had been working on, its silver stitchwork hanging loose. ‘Hush, my lady!’ she hissed, glancing at the door in case we were overheard. ‘The dear little prince will be born when he is born, God bless his soul. It may be divine will that his birth is delayed. The stars may not yet be auspicious.’
‘Then perhaps they should have consulted the Queen’s astrologer on the matter, rather than calling him a magician and dragging him to the Fleet prison in disgrace.’ The Lady Elizabeth nodded when I looked up in surprise. ‘Yes, Meg, I heard of his plight yesterday. Master Dee’s house has been searched, his books and papers removed by the Inquisition.’
Blanche was even more horrified than before, rolling her eyes towards the door. ‘My lady!’
‘Yes, yes, I know. I must mind my speech and keep my own counsel on this matter. I have not forgotten my pre carious position at court.’ Yet far from taking her own advice, Elizabeth strode restlessly back to the window and stared down at the rolling Thames. Her severe black gown did nothing to disguise the burnished red-gold of her hair, shining in the sunlight. ‘Poor Master Dee. I only hope they do not find anything dangerous amongst his papers.’
She glanced at me, and suddenly I remembered how we had visited the astrologer one night at Woodstock, meeting him secretly at the village inn and discussing Queen Mary’s horoscope. But I said nothing, catching a warning look in her face. Blanche Parry was aware that her mistress had gone to see John Dee that night, but knew nothing of what had been discussed. Which was just as well, for it could cost all of us our lives if it ever emerged that the Queen’s horoscope had been on the table between us.
‘Perhaps once the heir to the throne is born, my sister will allow me to leave court and live quietly in the country.’ Elizabeth leaned her chin on her hand, looking broodingly across at the shepherds in their fields opposite the palace. ‘I wish that I was back at Hatfield. Now that would make a pretty prison. Do you know Hatfield, Meg?’
‘No, my lady.’
‘It is not so large and handsome a palace as Hampton Court, but it is homely and quite beautiful in the spring. Soon the musk-roses will be budding and there will be young cuckoos calling in the groves. I miss . . . ah, so many things, Meg, I cannot begin to tell you what a wonderful place Hatfield is. Perhaps one day I shall be allowed to return there, and Kat Ashley will once again be my companion. Then we shall—’
The door to her apartments opened without any knock and the Lady Elizabeth turned, her body stiff at the suddenness of the intrusion.
‘How dare you, sirs—!’ she began, then bit her lip and fell silent, seeing at once who it was.
Three black-robed members of the Spanish Inquisition stood in the grand doorway to her apartments. As the princess curtseyed, the men grimly inclined their heads, displaying only the slightest deference to her status as the Queen’s sister.
I recognized one of the priests and scrambled to my feet in sudden fear, setting aside the book I had been leafing through. It was Señor Miguel de Pero, the priest who had warned me to keep away from Alejandro.
Father Vasco, the irascible old priest who had made our lives so miserable at Woodstock, came hobbling in behind them, his face greyer than ever, leaning on the shoulder of a young novice.
Alejandro!
My face flushed at the sight of Alejandro, and I had to look carefully at the ground, willing my cheeks to cool down. But it was hard not to remember his kisses in the disused storeroom, the warmth of his arm about my waist as he drew me closer. What if he had not stopped there?
Furtively, I tidied my cap and gown, then despised myself for such a show of vanity. Was there no end to my foolishness? I had only seen Alejandro yesterday, yet I was behaving as though we had been apart for months.
‘I am always delighted to welcome those who serve Her Majesty, my sister,’ Elizabeth was saying, cleverly reminding her visitors of her own royal lineage.
In a pointed manner she spoke English rather than Spanish, despite her proficiency in that language. Perhaps she hoped that would give her some advantage.
‘But I fear the abruptness of your entrance has left my nerves jangling. Do you always barge into the rooms of royalty without knocking or asking permission to enter, sirs?’
‘You must forgive us the ignorance of foreigners, my lady,’ replied Señor de Pero in his heavily accented English. He was taller than the other two men; a great wooden crucifix hung from his belt, and his neatly trimmed beard gleamed with oils where he had recently groomed it. He threw back his hood and smiled, his thin-lipped mouth cruel. ‘We are not used to your quaint English customs. In our own blessed country of Spain, the Inquisition comes and goes as it pleases, even in the great palaces, even amongst princes and nobles.’
Elizabeth shivered at these words. But her chin was raised. She was not ready to show fear before these foreigners. ‘What is your name, sir?’
‘My name is Señor Miguel de Pero and I have come to ask you a few questions on a matter pertaining to Her Majesty’s safety,’ he told her shortly. ‘These other gentlemen are here to keep a written record of whatever is said by yourself or your servants, so there can be no denials later. I trust this will not be an inconvenience to you, my lady.’
‘How could it be?’ the princess countered sharply. ‘My royal sister’s safety is always my greatest concern.’
‘Just so.’ The Inquisitor turned with a bow to indicate Father Vasco. ‘We have brought a priest with us whom I believe you already know from your time at Woodstock. I fear Father Vasco has not been well since accompanying your household to court, which has sadly delayed his return to Spain. But he is one of our most respected elders, my lady, and it was felt his presence might render our visit less of an intrusion.’
Elizabeth curtseyed low to the old priest. ‘I am sorry indeed to hear of your continuing ill health, Father Vasco. Would you care to sit?’ she asked him politely, and nodded to me.
Hurriedly, Blanche and I cleared a place for him on the high-backed wooden settle where the remnants of silver fabric had been laid, then stood back as Alejandr
o supported his elderly master to the seat and made him comfortable there.
Straightening from his task, Alejandro met my gaze briefly. Be careful, his look seemed to say. Then he turned and bowed to Elizabeth with his usual deference.
‘My lady,’ he murmured.
We waited in silence for the interview to begin, the Inquisitors seating themselves at the table where they whispered together, then took out quills, ink and a roll of paper.
Why were the Inquisition here? Could they have some new evidence against the Lady Elizabeth? I remembered my brother William’s warnings about Queen Mary’s marriage to a Catholic prince, and how England would soon be overrun with the priests of the Spanish Inquisition, hunting down heretics and burning them at the stake. I had thought William too gloomy about England’s future. But it seemed he was right. The Inquisition had followed King Philip here from Spain, and now they had come to the princess herself, looking for an excuse to accuse her of heresy – and inflict the death penalty.
I schooled myself to seem as calm as Elizabeth herself, for to show fear in front of these men would be to compound their suspicion that Elizabeth was guilty of some crime. I even tried not to look at Alejandro, though I was sharply aware of his presence in the room, my skin prickling at every slight movement he made. Whatever passed here in the next hour must surely decide my mistress’s fate, I thought.
Pale and determined, Elizabeth settled herself on her cushioned seat by the window and spoke briskly to the lead Inquisitor. ‘Come, Señor de Pero, I am ready whenever you are. Pray ask your questions on whatever pressing matter brings you here. I am my sister’s faithful and true subject, and have nothing to hide.’
‘Muy bien.’ Miguel de Pero drew up a chair opposite her. His tone was smooth, as though they were discussing the weather. ‘You will know that the Queen has asked for our aid in purging the court of the evils of Protestant heretics. Unfortunately, some of our enquiries have led us to your household, my lady. Do you know Master John Dee, my lady?’
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