Secret History of Elizabeth Tudor, Vampire Slayer

by Lucy Weston

  I could not ask for a better opportunity to persuade him that what he has sought for so long is within his grasp. My power wedded to his, England his to rule, its enemies crushed by his will, and beyond all that an entire world waiting to be fed upon by his kind as the light of humanity flickers out and is extinguished.

  Only let him believe that and I will have what I need to destroy this trickster king who drenches all my senses in desire and tempts me so dangerously.

  But before all that I must survive the heady surge of excitement that sweeps over me as Mordred leads me into the hall and I see for the first time the full otherworldly beauty of the vampire court.

  Of course, I was not entirely blind to Elizabeth’s intent. At the least, I knew that she had mixed reasons for coming to me. Curiosity no doubt played its part, but more important so did the desire that I felt coursing in her each time we touched, desire I fully reciprocated. Still, it took rare courage to do as she had done, which suggested that she had a higher purpose. Hope swelled in me that she truly was on the verge of accepting my proposal.

  As I stepped into the great hall with her on my arm, I indulged the pleasant fantasy that she was already my queen, ruling at my side. England was safe and at peace, her enemies crushed. The kindred were strong, growing in number, poised to move into the larger world.

  Still wearing her cloak sodden with melting snow and ice, her face so pale as to make her hair appear as a nimbus of flame, she trembled slightly. I could not blame her. The lords and ladies of my court fell silent at our entrance. As one, they turned to stare at her. A dozen were missing of our number, those she had killed. The remainder knew her for a Slayer, a being who had not been seen in a thousand years, beyond the measure of any of their lives. She was the stuff of legend … and terror.

  No doubt she feared how she would be received but there was no reason for her to do so. My presence beside her, the manner in which I presented her, lifting her hand high, and the firmness of my tone when I spoke told my subjects what I expected of them.

  “Behold, Elizabeth Regina, Queen of these isles and my honored guest. She is welcome among us.”

  I released her hand, moved behind her, and removed her cloak. She wore a gown of golden brocade embroidered with pearls over an overskirt of deep blue velvet that complemented her eyes, simple by the ornate standards of her official appearances but effective all the same.

  Polite applause rang out, hardly unfettered in enthusiasm but sufficient to my purpose. Elizabeth inclined her head regally. I took her hand again and escorted her farther into the hall. A passage opened before us, framed on either side by bowing courtiers. At the far end, on a dais raised beside the hearth, I had caused a second chair to be placed next to my own in signal of my intent to take a queen. Blanche had made it clear that she wanted to claim that position as her own, but she knew better than to test my authority. Even so, she hovered close and glared at Elizabeth, who took no notice of her. She was far too occupied looking in all directions, trying to take in everything at once.

  “I will value your opinion of our music,” I said as I seated her. “Several of my subjects are quite skilled in that regard.”

  Elizabeth sat without allowing her back to touch the chair. I followed her gaze out over my court, trying to see it as she did. In all modesty, my kind cannot be surpassed for beauty and elegance, and with centuries to devote to the cultivation of skills, a certain proficiency is expected whether in the arts, gambling, or whatever the chosen field.

  After a flurry of cautious glances in her direction, my courtiers resumed their pursuits. Dice flew, the music soared, and the usual flirtations were pursued. I was glad to see that the latter were restrained by a certain decorum not usually in evidence. We are sensual beings inclined to indulge our carnal natures and indulgent of those around us who are doing the same, but that night care was taken not to shock Elizabeth too much. A degree of preening and posturing did go on, no doubt to draw her attention, but there was no overt hostility.

  A thrall approached bearing a pair of Venetian glass goblets that contained a rich burgundy that I favored. I took both and gracefully handed one to Elizabeth.

  As our fingers touched, I said, “I believe you will find the vintage worthy of your palate.”

  She took a sip and followed the thrall with her eyes as it resumed its position against the wall.

  “What is that?” she asked.

  “What is what?”

  “The … servant who brought the wine.”

  I shrugged dismissively. “Oh, that. We call them thralls. Do not trouble yourself with them. What do you think of the wine?”

  “It is … pleasing. Do they all conceal their faces?”

  “They are of no account, Elizabeth. Forget them.”

  But it was clear that she could not. After a moment, she said, “I would find it disturbing to be served by people whose faces I could not see.”

  “Whereas I prefer menial servants to be as unobtrusive as possible.”

  That should have settled the matter but she continued to stare at the thrall a little longer before finally looking away. Her interest in the creature irked me. I wanted her to think only of me … and of my kind as well, of course, of all she could find among us.

  Blanche must have sensed my darkening humor. Garbed in shimmering white, her ebony hair cascading down her back, she approached the dais but waited for a nod from me before making her curtsy to Elizabeth.

  “May I present the Lady Blanche,” I said. “She is among the most trusted and beloved of my subjects.”

  Blanche straightened and smiled. She looked very well that night, I will admit, but then she always did.

  “Dear Queen,” she said, “how honored we are to have you among us.”

  Elizabeth studied her cautiously. I watched as the perception of a monarch changed to that of a young woman a little uncertain about her own looks, confronted by an experienced beauty of sensuality and sophistication.

  “Lady Blanche … forgive my curiosity, but have you been long in service to your king?”

  “I have, Majesty. It has been three centuries since I was freed from the shadow of death. My gratitude for my liberation is boundless. I am devoted to my lord’s service in every way.”

  Elizabeth raised a brow, but whatever else she thought of this declaration, she was distracted by her discovery of Blanche’s age.

  Gazing at skin so smooth, hair so luxuriant, a figure so perfect as to belong to a woman no older than herself, Elizabeth passed her tongue over her lips.

  “Three hundred years?”

  “Indeed, Majesty. In that time, I have gained beyond measure in experience and wisdom.”

  “How fortunate for you … and for Lord Mordred, whom you serve so well.”

  Blanche bristled at the hint of sarcasm. I felt the power rising in her and sought to quell it with a glance. She ignored me, her gaze fastened on Elizabeth.

  “I am of a noble lineage, Majesty. My family served this realm with valor and distinction, even at great cost to themselves. Though they are long gone from this world, I honor them still.”

  Elizabeth nodded slowly. “Surely your power is greater than theirs could ever be?”

  Blanche smile, mollified. “You are correct, Majesty. Indeed, as a Slayer, I suspect that you can sense my strength.”

  “I certainly sense something,” Elizabeth replied, a little tartly I thought, but then Blanche’s mention of my guest’s proclivity for slaying our kind was hardly tactful.

  I stood and, with my hand outstretched, silently bid Elizabeth do the same. “Allow me to introduce you to more of my kind, and perhaps you would enjoy joining in some of their activities.”

  Blanche stood aside to let us pass but not without a mocking smile. I drew Elizabeth away as hastily as decorum allowed while reminding myself to have a word with Blanche. She would have to rein in whatever jealousy she felt once Elizabeth became my queen.

  By all appearances, Elizabeth was fascinate
d by my court. She inclined her head graciously to everyone she met and only gasped a little when several lofted into the air for a better view of her. I watched her watching them and was well pleased. Her eyes gleamed with fascination and the delectable pulse beating in her throat quickened. After a second goblet of the excellent burgundy, she even agreed to play a tune on the lute, for which I will say she had a pretty hand. Applause rang out again but this time accompanied by cheers.

  When she was finished, she turned to me. “How enthralling this all is. I had no idea that you lived in any such way.”

  “What did you imagine,” I asked with a smile, “that we lie about in crypts or hang from the ceiling like bats?”

  She laughed and I joined her, so good was my humor. Seduction finds so many paths—the pleasures of the flesh, of course, most especially when combined with the promise of eternal youth. But for some individuals—and I believed that Elizabeth was one of them—safety and security are the greatest treasures to be desired. I told myself that she would find both and more within my court. She would find a home.

  It was on the tip of my tongue to ask her there and then if she had come to a decision. Perhaps she sensed that for she moved to forestall me.

  “Most regrettably,” she said, “the hour is such that I must return to Whitehall. If I am gone longer, my absence will be noted and it will raise suspicion.”

  I was disappointed, of course, but I saw the sense of what she said. Having already waited for so long, surely I could wait a little longer?

  “Allow me to escort you.”

  I could see that she was tempted; who would not be to soar over the ground free of all earthly restraint? But after a moment, she shook her head.

  “I did not come alone. My attendants will be alarmed if I do not return with them.”

  “Lord Dudley in particular, I presume?”

  To my surprise, she flushed and looked away.

  “Lord Dudley is indisposed following an incident in the lists,” she said.

  This passed all belief for surely his entrails would have had to be dragging on the ground for him to willingly remain behind.

  “How regrettable. I do hope he will recover soon.”

  “So do I,” she replied with an edge that suggested Dudley had damn well better or risk her permanent disfavor.

  I could not have been more pleased. Cecil I could tolerate; he had his uses. Walsingham, too, perhaps, if what I had seen of him so far held up. Even Dee might find a purpose serving me. But Dudley had to go. The combination of ambition and obsessive love that he had for her would make him a danger to me so long as he breathed.

  Perhaps when the time was right, she would join me in feeding on him.

  I saw her through the main doors and partway down the drive toward the gates. There she left me, going on alone. As I watched her move through the darkness with swift grace, I told myself that everything I had yearned for through the centuries was at last within my grasp.

  In my own defense, I will say that I did wonder at her coming to me right after her encounter with Morgaine, but I did not allow myself to dwell on the implications of that. Instead, I lofted back to the manor lighter in my spirit than I had been in a long time. So excellent was my humor that not even Blanche’s angry glare aroused more than amusement in me.

  The rest of my subjects were eagerly chattering among themselves, clearly well pleased with their soon-to-be queen. Inclined to be indulgent now that everything had gone so well, I summoned Blanche to my side. We slipped together onto one of the low couches scattered about the hall for such purposes. I lifted her white gown, caressing her thighs as I tasted her lightly. With that came a general loosening of restraint. My kin diverted themselves as they are like to do—in twos and threes, sometimes more. Velvet and silk littered the floor; candlelight glowed on revealed flesh; the night flowed on, filled with the promise of the glory that I was certain nothing could prevent.

  Night, 20 January 1559

  Cecil, Dee, and Walsingham are huddled, shivering, near the gate when I emerge. They spring at me with mingled relief and curiosity that leads me to believe they have spent the past few hours imagining me dead … or worse.

  “Majesty,” my Spirit gasps, “praise God that you are safe!”

  “Indeed, madam,” Dee joins in. “We had come near to despair for your well-being.”

  “As you can see, you need not have,” I reply with some asperity for I am in no mood to listen to their complaints. Indeed, haste nips at my heels. I believe that I have the means now to achieve my ends. Only the precise time and circumstances remain to be determined.

  As we hasten toward the High Street and from there to the wherryman who will return us to the Whitehall steps, I question my companions.

  “Did you discover anything in your surveillance of the manor?”

  Walsingham replies, “As Your Majesty instructed, we did not attempt to venture inside but we made a complete circumnavigation of the outer wall, which is, by the way, in good repair. There are four additional gates, one on each side of what amounts to a square. We saw no evidence of guards, however we were puzzled by the presence of what appear to be monks on the grounds.”

  “They are thralls, not monks, and they are servants, although I suppose it is also possible that they stand watch.”

  “Are they vampires?” Cecil asks.

  “I do not believe so. At least, they appear nothing like Mordred’s court, who are all young, beautiful, and gloriously garbed. I think the thralls must be something else entirely.”

  “And Mordred himself,” Dee asks, “he saw nothing suspicious in your coming to him as you did?”

  “He saw what he wants to see, and that suits me for now. I have led him to believe that I am inclined to accept his proposition.”

  “Majesty!” Cecil protests. “Is that wise?”

  I step in a clump of snow and grimace. “It is essential if I am to prevail. But enough, I am weary and I must think. Give me the gift of your silence until we have regained the palace.”

  They obey, of course, but clearly with difficulty. Cecil scowls as we take our seats in the wherry; Dee fidgets; only Walsingham appears unconcerned, but I see him looking back toward the High Street and catch the calculation in his gaze. He is trying to determine what I have in mind.

  He is not alone. Barely do I regain my chambers than Kat is upon me. I find her sitting in the chair by the hearth when I come through the passage door.

  “There you are,” she says. “It’s worried sick I’ve been.”

  This is blunt talk for Kat, who has treated me with deference ever since I was old enough to understand what that is. Nor is she finished.

  Having risen from the chair and smoothed her skirts, she approaches me with a look that I have not seen since I ripped up a rosebush at Hatfield when I was eight years old.

  “What are you thinking of, going off in the middle of the night yet again? Do you truly believe that no one notices what you are about? You disappear with Dudley, whisper has it, to no less than the Tower. Next we know he has his tail between his legs again and you’re off to who knows where? My dear child, how long do you think you can keep this up before it crashes down around you?”

  “I am not your child.”

  How cruel I am to speak such words to the woman who raised me, protected me, and loved me all my life. What darkness dwells in me that I can do such a horrible thing?

  She flinches, and for a moment I see the sheen of tears in her eyes. But Kat Ashley is made of sterner stuffer than even I can dent. She squares her shoulders and stares me down.

  “No, you are not, but that changes nothing of what I have said. As you seem ill-disposed to have a care for your own well-being, I have no choice but to do so. Where have you been?”

  In the realm of the vampires, sipping wine, playing the lute, and doing my utmost to ignore the temptations that Mordred presents.

  “About the business of being queen. What else would you have me do?”
>
  She reaches out to me, catching both my hands in hers as though she would draw me back from the brink of terrible danger.

  “I beseech you, Elizabeth, share at least a little of the burden you carry. Tell me what message your mother sent to you from beyond the grave and what it drives you to do.”

  “She—” I fumble for words and find none. The strength goes from my legs. I am suddenly almost unbearably weary.

  Kat helps me to a chair, fussing over me as she sets my feet on a stool, lays a blanket over me, and pokes up the fire. She leaves the poker in it to heat while she lights more lamps, then returns to plunge the hot metal into a cup of cider. When it is warm, she places it in my hands and urges me to drink.

  “When did you eat last?”

  I swallow and wipe my hand across my mouth, heedless of decorum. “Whenever the last banquet was.”

  “You never eat enough at those things. I will send for food.”

  She turns to go but I seize her hand. “Don’t leave me. I have so much to tell you.”

  Kat hesitates, but after a moment she nods and pulls up a stool beside me. Still holding my hand, she says, “Begin where you will, my dear, but leave nothing out. I would know it all.”

  I speak for I do not know how long. I tell her of my awakening as a vampire slayer beside my mother’s grave, of the contents of Anne’s letter, of the visit to the Tower chapel and my encounter with Morgaine, of what I saw at Southwark Manor. I mention Mordred’s claim to have tried to save my mother and to have protected me, but do not dwell on either. Lastly, I tell her what he wants of me.

  She is pale long before I finish, her mouth taut. Silence settles over us when I am done. Slowly she speaks, “Truly, the world is stranger than we can know.”

  A faint laugh escapes me. Her plain good sense and honesty are exactly what I need. “Wiser words were never spoken. But now you understand what I am facing. I have a plan that I believe will enable me to stop Mordred. But I fear that my will may not be equal to the temptation he presents.”

  I would make that admission to no one in the world save Kat and the moment I do make it, a great weight seems to lift from me. I slip from my chair, kneel before her, and lay my head in her lap.