Philippa Gregory 3-Book Tudor Collection 2: The Queen’s Fool, The Virgin’s Lover, The Other Queen. Philippa GregoryЧитать онлайн книгу.
faith and buried my father according to my faith. I have supported my mother and my sisters, and I have saved money against the day of my marriage. Our marriage. While you run around the dark streets, dressed as a pageboy, serve in a Papist court, visit a condemned traitor, and reproach me for having done nothing.’
I pulled my hand away from him. ‘Don’t you see he’s going to die?’ I shouted, and then I was aware that the tears were streaming down my face. Angrily, I rubbed them away with my sleeve. ‘Don’t you know that they’re going to execute him and no-one can save him? Or at best they’ll leave him in there to wait and wait and wait and die of waiting? He can’t even save himself? Don’t you see that everyone I love seems to be taken from me, for no crime? With no way of saving them? Don’t you think I miss my mother every day of my life? Don’t you think I smell smoke every night in my dreams and now this man … this man …’ I broke off in tears.
Daniel caught me by the shoulders, not in an embrace, but with a firm grip to hold me at arm’s length so that he could read my face with a long impartial measuring glance. ‘This man is nothing to do with the death of your mother,’ he said flatly. ‘Nothing to do with someone dying for their faith. So don’t dress up your lust as sorrow. You have been serving two masters, sworn enemies. One of them was bound to end up in there. If it was not Lord Robert then it would have been Queen Mary. One of them was bound to triumph, one of them was bound to die.’
I wrenched myself from his grip, pulling away from his hard unsympathetic eyes, and started to trudge for home. After a few moments I heard him come after me.
‘Would you be weeping like this if it had been Queen Mary in there, with her head on the block?’ he asked.
‘Ssshhh,’ I said, always cautious. ‘Yes.’
He said nothing, but his silence showed his great scepticism.
‘I have done nothing dishonourable,’ I said flatly.
‘I doubt you,’ he said, as coldly as me. ‘If you have been honourable it has only been for lack of opportunity.’
‘Whoreson,’ I said under my breath so he could not hear, and he marched me home in silence and we parted at my doorway with a handshake which was neither cousinly nor loving. I let him go, I would have been glad to throw a large volume at his retreating upright head. Then I went in to my father and wondered how long it would before Daniel came to see him to say that he wanted to be released from our betrothal, and what would happen to me then.
As Fool to the queen I was expected to be in her chambers every day, at her side. But as soon as I could be absent for an hour without attracting notice, I took a chance, and went to the old Dudley rooms to look for John Dee. I tapped on the door and a man in strange livery opened it and looked suspiciously at me.
‘I thought the Dudley household lived here,’ I said timidly.
‘Not any more,’ he said smartly.
‘Where will I find them?’
He shrugged. ‘The duchess has rooms near the queen. Her sons are in the Tower. Her husband is in hell.’
‘The tutor?’
He shrugged. ‘Gone away. Back to his father’s house, I should think.’
I nodded and took myself back to the queen’s rooms, and sat by her feet on a small cushion. Her little dog, a greyhound, had a cushion that matched mine; and dog and I sat, noses parallel, watching with the same brown-eyed incomprehension, while the courtiers came and made their bows and applied for land and places and favours of grants of money, and sometimes the queen patted the dog and sometimes she patted me; and dog and I stayed mum, and never said what we thought of these pious Catholics who had kept the flame of their faith so wonderfully hidden for so long. Well-hidden while they proclaimed the Protestant religion, hidden while they saw Catholics burned, waiting till this moment, like daffodils at Easter, to burst forth and flower. To think that there were so many believers in the country, and nobody knew them till now!
When they were all gone she walked up to a window embrasure where no-one could hear us and beckoned for me. ‘Hannah?’
‘Yes, Your Grace?’ I went to her side at once.
‘Isn’t it time you were out of your pageboy livery? You will be a woman soon.’
I hesitated. ‘If you will allow it, Your Grace, I would rather go on dressed as a pageboy.’
She looked at me curiously. ‘Don’t you long for a pretty gown, and to grow your hair, child? Don’t you want to be a young woman? I thought I would give you a gown for Christmas.’
I thought of my mother plaiting my thick black hair and winding the plaits around her fingers and telling me I would become a beauty, a famously beautiful woman. I thought of her chiding me for my love of rich cloth, and how I had begged for a green velvet gown for Hanukah.
‘I lost my love of finery when I lost my mother,’ I said quietly. ‘There’s no pleasure in it for me without her to choose and fit the dresses on me, and tell me that they suit me. I don’t even want long hair without her here to plait it for me.’
Her face became tender. ‘When did she die?’
‘When I was eleven years old,’ I lied. ‘She took the plague.’ I would never risk revealing the truth that she had been burned as a heretic, not even with this queen who looked so gravely and sorrowfully into my face.
‘Poor child,’ she said gently. ‘It is a loss that you never forget. You can learn to bear it, but you never forget it.’
‘Every time something good happens to me I want to tell her. Every time something bad happens I want her help.’
She nodded. ‘I used to write to my mother, even when I knew that they would never allow me to send my letters to her. Even though there was nothing in them that they could have objected to, no secrets, just my need for her and my sorrow that she was far from me. But they would not let me write to her. I just wanted to tell her that I loved her and I missed her. And then she died and I was not allowed to go to her. I could not even hold her hand and close her eyes.’
She put her hand to her eyes and pressed her cool fingertips against her eyelids, as if to hold back old tears.
She cleared her throat. ‘But this cannot mean that you never wear a gown,’ she said lightly. ‘Life goes on, Hannah. Your mother would not want you to grieve. She would want you to grow to be a woman, a beautiful young woman. She would not want her little girl to wear boy’s clothes forever.’
‘I don’t want to be a woman,’ I said simply. ‘My father has arranged a marriage for me, but I know I am not yet ready to be a woman and a wife.’
‘You can’t want to be a virgin like me,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘It’s not a course many women would choose.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Not a virgin queen like you, I have not dedicated myself to being a single woman; but it’s as if …’ I broke off. ‘As if I don’t know how to be a woman,’ I said uncomfortably. ‘I watch you, and I watch the ladies of the court.’ Tactfully I did not add that of them all, I watched the Lady Elizabeth, who seemed to me to be the epitome of the grace of a girl and the dignity of a princess. ‘I watch everyone, and I think I will learn it in time. But not yet.’
She nodded. ‘I understand exactly. I don’t know how to be a queen without a husband at my side. I have never known of a queen without a man to guide her. And yet I am so afraid of marrying …’ She paused. ‘I don’t think a man could ever understand the dread that a woman might feel at the thought of marriage. Especially a woman like me, not a young woman, not a woman given to the pleasures of the flesh, not a woman who is even very desirable …’ She put a hand out to prevent me from contradicting her. ‘I know it, Hannah, you needn’t flatter me.
‘And worse than all