‘Alejandro?’ I murmured, half asleep.
‘Sleep, my love,’ he told me firmly, and rose from my bedside. ‘I will guard the door and let no one come near you until you wake.’
EIGHT
Into the Woods
It had been no dream, I discovered, waking later that evening to find myself deliciously refreshed. I rose from my bed, with Alice’s help, and managed to bathe myself until my aching body was clean. Alice gasped and shook her head at the vicious marks of torture on my body, and even wept a little in sympathy over the missing fingernail. But since I had no more tears to cry on my own behalf, Alice soon grew cheerful again and found me a clean gown to wear about the court. My old one I reluctantly sent to be washed, though in truth I would have preferred to see it burnt. But we could not afford to waste a well-made court gown just because I had once worn it to be tortured and humiliated by that devil, de Pero.
Someone came to the door as I was dressing, and Alice went to see who it was. Through the half-open door, I could see Alejandro there, still guarding me, and another girl delivering a message.
Alice closed the door and came back, grinning, a folded bundle in her hands. ‘You are summoned to attend the Lady Elizabeth at supper. She is to dine with the King and court. You had better hurry for her ladyship is waiting. Blanche Parry has been taken ill with a bellyache and the Lady Elizabeth does not wish to be attended by any of the Queen’s ladies.’
I let the girl brush my hair until it hung smooth and neat, then stood still while she fixed a smart black velvet hood on my head in the French style. ‘That’s not mine,’ I said hurriedly, and felt uneasy when Alice explained that the hood belonged to the princess.
‘Your best cap is ruined, and you cannot go down to the Great Hall wearing any old gown. Her ladyship will be laughed at for not being able to dress her servants in a manner befitting the Queen’s sister.’
‘Then the Queen should make her a larger allowance,’ I muttered, but did not argue when a pair of old but comfortable, well-cut shoes were produced and slipped on my feet.
The princess and I were about the same size and her castoff clothes fitted me well. I fussed and fidgeted while Alice dressed me, for I did not wish to keep the Lady Elizabeth waiting. To my relief, the court gown I was already wearing passed Alice’s rigorous inspection, though she did insist on adding a thin silver belt-chain at my waist, which she assured me was all the fashion.
Before we left, I slipped the bracelet onto my arm which the princess had given me. Its fragile silver links looked beautiful against my pale skin.
Finally, Alice declared me properly dressed for the court and ready to attend her Queen’s sister. I hurried out, and found that Alejandro had vanished. I tried not to be disappointed – he had other duties to perform, I was sure – but my heart ached a little at his absence. Perhaps I had grown too accustomed lately to having him always within reach.
That was a dangerous habit, I warned myself!
Alejandro was not bound to me; at my own insistence, we had never made our betrothal public. He might at any moment return to his family in Spain, or leave with the court and never see me again, and no one would ever know we had once been promised to each other. If a love is kept secret and locked inside a heart for ever, I wondered hopelessly, does it truly exist?
‘Walk behind her ladyship and make sure you lift her train out of the dirt and the rushes,’ Alice whispered in my ear, following me to the Lady Elizabeth’s apartments. ‘Remember to hand her a clean napkin and water bowl between courses. The King does not like dirty fingers at table. And look no one in the eye. You must be invisible.’
‘I have served before in the Great Hall, you know.’
‘Have you?’ She looked surprised. ‘I’ve never seen you there.’
‘I’ve only done it a few times, and I was hidden away behind the Lady Elizabeth’s chair. Blanche Parry is jealous and prefers to wait on the princess herself. But her ladyship said I should come along too once or twice, for she wished me to learn how to serve at table.’ I looked at Alice, interested in her history. ‘How do you know so much about waiting on high table?’
Alice grinned. ‘I was trained from my cradle to serve royalty, but have rarely been allowed to serve the Queen myself. There are too many other ladies above me in rank who take that honour. It is a great privilege you have been given tonight, Meg.’
So don’t make a mess of it, I finished for her silently. Sweat began to run down my back as I thought of the trial ahead of me. With no Blanche Parry at my side to remind me when to move forward and when to stay still, I was going to be desperately nervous about making a mistake. As a girl I had been trained to cast the sacred circle and work magic, but never to serve a royal mistress as my mother had done when she was at court during Queen Anne’s brief and ill-fated reign.
God forbid I should trip over carrying the Lady Elizabeth’s train or drop her finger bowl in the King’s lap. I would almost rather be back in chains in the Inquisitor’s cell than embarrass my mistress with my woeful lack of training.
I had never seen anything to equal the dazzling splendour of the banqueting hall that summer evening. Now that the Queen was no longer confined to her apartments, it seemed as though the whole court was assembled in that one place, though Alice insisted that many of the lesser nobles had already slipped away ahead of the royal party to find lodgings at Oatlands. Yet the Great Hall with its tapestried walls and arched wooden roof beams still seemed impossibly hot and crowded, unused as I was to such a great company of nobles, their silks and fine velvets glittering with jewels.
Yet for all its splendour, the court felt close and stifling, as though at the height of summer. The Spanish courtiers and priests whispered amongst themselves, or stood in shadowy groups away from the torches, their hostility towards the Lady Elizabeth obvious.
As we entered the Great Hall, the King stepped down from the dais to greet his sister-in-law. To my surprise, the Queen was nowhere to be seen.
‘Stay behind me,’ Elizabeth murmured, seeing my hesitation. The King beckoned her forward and she sank into a deep curtsey before him, then seemed to blush as the King smiled and gestured to her to rise.
‘I was sorry to hear you had not been well, my lady. I would have come to you myself if it had not been for various pressing matters of state. I only hope these visits from the Inquisition, and their questioning of your servants, have not added to your woes. My countrymen can be over-zealous where God is concerned. But every accusation must be tested in order to prove your innocence, as I am sure you understand.’ He took her long pale hand, lifting it to his lips in a courtly kiss. His dark eyes flirted with hers quite openly. ‘How are you, sister?’
‘Much improved, Your Majesty,’ Elizabeth replied softly, and it was clear from her purring tone that she enjoyed being reminded of her royal status as the Queen’s sister. ‘The news that I was to dine with you tonight seems to have restored me. My rooms overlook the Thames, and I fear river air is not good for my health at this time of year, with the spring tides swelling the river and bringing its debris so high up the banks.’ She paused, and looked at him daringly. ‘But I hear the court is soon to move from Hampton Court, Your Majesty. Is that so?’
It was a bold question, perhaps even a dangerous one, given that no official announcement had been made concerning the dismal end of the Queen’s lying-in.
King Philip hesitated, then his smile broadened. ‘Indeed, it is true. We are bound for Oatlands. I am told it is not far, a mere day’s ride across easy country. Will you accompany us, sister?’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ Elizabeth bent her head, but could not quite conceal her satisfaction at his reply, ‘I shall come if my royal sister the Queen is disposed to welcome me there.’
The King nodded, stroking his dark beard as he looked her up and down, no doubt admiring her tiny waist in the black gown she had chosen that evening, its sober colour broken only by a silver belt like my own, but more ornate and
ending in a dangling cross. No crucifix such as the more devout Catholics wore, her cross was plain and defiantly Protestant in flavour. But the King’s pale blue eyes skipped across it without comment, preferring – it seemed to me – to linger over the low neckline of her gown.
King Philip held out his arm to the princess. ‘I had hoped the Queen would join us this evening. But alas, she is still abed with an affliction that keeps her from leaving her apartments at present.’
‘I am saddened to hear it, brother.’
‘I am sure she will welcome you at Oatlands though, for my sake at least. Never did a King have such a fine sister-in-law.’ He kissed her hand. ‘Come and sit next to me at table, since my wife cannot join us. We shall eat well tonight and toast a merry farewell to Hampton Court. Soon our best cooks will be leaving us to set up their ovens at Oatlands. Do you know the place?’
‘Indeed, my lord,’ Elizabeth murmured.
Listening to my mistress laugh heartily with the King all evening and accept food from his hand, it was not hard to see how her mind went. Queen Mary might secretly loathe her younger half-sister and instruct her spies to make Elizabeth’s life a misery, but King Philip found her charming and attractive. And Elizabeth was not a woman to throw aside a weapon, however trickily it came to her hand.
After they had eaten, the King asked the Lady Elizabeth to walk with him in the moonlit gardens. Half the court descended with them to admire the newly planted walkways, their lines and circles designed to impress the senses with an idea of order and beauty. The courtiers kept their distance from the royal pair, muttering behind their hands or standing in silence as they waited for them to return to the Great Hall. Torches flamed along the paths at intervals, lighting the low hedges of lavender and privet, their flickering lights reflected in the central pool into which a fountain played incessantly.
As they walked ahead of me, King Philip pointed out the young plants he had ordered to be brought over from Spain for these gardens.
‘If the climate will support them is not yet known, but we shall try. In my own country these grow freely, but here . . .’ He made an impatient face, gesturing to the evening sky above us, already prickling with stars like tiny diamonds on black velvet. ‘Here in England it rains too heavily and too often in the summer for plants which need the sun. And the winters are too cold and wet, the seed will rot in the ground before it is spring again.’
Elizabeth laughed. ‘Then you must learn to appreciate the beauty of our woodland plants, Your Majesty, which do not need the sun and have their own deep colours and rich scents to recommend them.’
We were passing a small wooded area of the grounds. The trees grew thickly there, overarching the path. I glanced about us, suddenly uneasy. It seemed to me there were shadows in the woodland, shadows with unfriendly eyes that moved when we moved and held still when we stopped. The Queen’s spies? Or unnatural creatures that had no place in our world?
My skin crept and I spoke a spell under my breath, hoping to throw a barrier around my mistress that would protect her from any harmful influence. But the further she moved away from me, the more I felt that protective barrier weaken and grow thin.
The King paused, then drew the Lady Elizabeth aside into a narrow copse thick with the scent of bluebells. ‘Will you show me this tender English beauty, sister? I am a Spaniard and know only the coarse flowers brought out by the dry heat of our summers.’
Elizabeth bit her lip, clearly uncomfortable with the suggestion. ‘It is too dark under the trees.’
‘The stars will light our way. Come, let us leave your servant behind and enjoy the place alone. I am curious to see these charming woodland plants.’
‘Very well, Your Majesty.’
I waited in shadow as they disappeared under the trees, unsure whether it was quite acceptable for the young princess to walk alone in the dark wood with her sister’s husband. But with the Queen absent, still keeping to her bed as though she were sick, which of us would dare to comment?
The shadows seemed to thicken and lengthen once I was alone. I remembered the giant rat I had seen twice now at Hampton Court and turned, staring hard into the shadowy woods. My senses searched for an attack, but could find none. Then a rustling in the bushes stiffened the hair on the back of my neck.
‘Meg,’ a voice whispered huskily behind me. My heart leaped, exalted. I knew who it was even before I turned.
‘The King and the Lady Elizabeth are in there alone, without even a guard or chaperone,’ I told Alejandro, forcing myself to sound calm. ‘What would the Queen say if she knew?’
‘Nothing very complimentary,’ he said drily and raised my sore hand to his lips, kissing it just as the King had kissed the Lady Elizabeth’s hand, though I saw how careful he was not to hurt me. Bent over my hand, Alejandro looked up at me as a cat looks at a mouse it has caught, something mischievous in his expression. ‘But on this occasion I shall not complain, for it gives us a chance to be alone as well.’
These Spaniards certainly knew how to make a woman feel loved and desired, I thought, my skin tingling at his touch. Sometimes I felt safe in his company, safer than with any other man on earth, and my heart would sing with joy. But then sometimes his eyes looked at me so fiercely and with such heat, it was as though he wished to eat me up and leave nothing but the bones behind. It was not always a comfortable thing, being alone with Alejandro de Castillo.
‘This is a fine gown. And a smart new French hood too.’ Alejandro smiled, releasing my hand. ‘I saw you at dinner tonight, Meg, carrying the princess’s train as though you had been born to serve royalty. You looked so noble and lofty, like a princess yourself. I hardly recognized you.’
‘It felt very strange,’ I admitted. ‘A far cry from our ramshackle life at Woodstock.’
‘Ramshackle.’ He ran the difficult word around his tongue, then laughed. ‘The English have such unusual words. Yes, our life at Woodstock was certainly ramshackle. And how does court life suit you, Meg Lytton?’
I looked into his eyes and knew I could not lie. ‘Being at the royal court is the most dizzying thing. I can hardly believe where I am when I wake up each morning. I enjoy the honour of being able to wear fine gowns like this and walk behind the Lady Elizabeth when she talks with the King himself. I have never been anywhere but quiet Oxfordshire all my life, and now to be here at court . . . It is exciting, it is miraculous.’ I hesitated, then finished in a low voice so that only he could hear me. ‘But it is not the life I want. I miss the open fields and the rain on my face, Alejandro. I miss casting the circle and calling down the spirits. I miss the power of magick in my fingertips. As a witch, I am the servant of the goddess. Here I am only the servant of a princess.’
He said nothing for a moment, but watched me closely. It occurred to me that I did not know much about Alejandro, except the few things he had told me about his Spanish family – very wealthy and noble – and his childhood, how he had been the unwitting cause of a witch’s death. He kept his past to himself, his eyes darkly secretive even when telling me how much he loved me. It made me wonder what else I might discover about Alejandro in the future – and whether any of those discoveries could make me love him less.
‘So you could never be content to throw away your skill on this life of courtly indulgence,’ he suggested quietly, ‘with spies at every corner and the block waiting for the unwary?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I replied in a whisper, looking over my shoulder in case anyone might be listening. But the shadows no longer seemed dangerous, not now that Alejandro was with me, and the moon had slipped behind a cloud, hiding us from the view of any covert watchers.
‘It may be possible to be a witch at court, if the thing is done secretly. My mother practised the craft when she served at the court of Queen Anne, the Lady Elizabeth’s mother. But Aunt Jane told me that when she returned home to Oxfordshire, my mother abandoned the craft in favour of marriage and motherhood, as so many women choose to do when they fall in love.
’
Alejandro did not smile. ‘Did she regret it?’
‘I believe she did, yes. But I never knew my mother so I cannot know for sure. She died young.’
He nodded sombrely. ‘There is no greater risk for a woman than to be with child. You know the curse that has been laid upon me, and what it could mean for my future wife. I would not have you die young, Meg. Even if it means we must never marry.’
He meant the curse a dying witch had laid on him as a boy, that his wife would die in childbirth. ‘I have no intention of dying. Trust me.’
He smiled at this and drew me so close I could hardly breathe. His hands clasped my waist, his gaze searching mine.
‘Always,’ he agreed.
‘Shall I call down a nightingale to sing for us?’ I whispered, afraid what might follow if we allowed our hearts and hands to do what they wished.
Alejandro said nothing but waited, still watching me.
I whispered a few words in Latin, and sketched a brief pass in the darkness, willing the branches to part and bring us a nightingale. I did not know if such a summoning spell would work without any preparation on my part, but I was hopeful that the night would favour us.
Suddenly there it was, a small brown bird with unassuming plumage, gazing down at us from a nearby beech tree. The nightingale tipped back its throat and a glorious peal of notes filled the air.
Alejandro stared at the bird in disbelief, then gave a hoarse laugh. He gathered me in his arms and kissed me, pressing kisses on my forehead, my cheek, even my lips. ‘Sweet astonishing Meg!’
We listened to the nightingale’s song as we kissed, drowning in its music. My heart swelled with joy.
We stood in the shadows a long while, pressed together like two leaves of a book, until the King’s deep voice woke us from our dream and we shot apart, our faces flushed. I looked up into the leafy branches of the beech tree but the nightingale had fled. The spell was broken.
Witchfall Page 10
