But the lure of a carnal marriage. Twin souls since childhood. The power of the heart…
‘The Earl of Arundel would have had Dudley dead years ago,’ I said. ‘Or so it’s said.’
Cecil let a silence hang and the rain ceased as if he’d commanded it.
‘Arundel’s too old and too vain, but he’s hardly alone,’ he said at last. ‘Think of Norfolk. Think of those who conspired to get John Dudley topped and now fear Robert’s vengeance if he’s in a position to wreak some. Let me be honest. If he’s betrothed to the Queen, no matter how long after his time of mourning, Dudley must needs be looking over his shoulder all the way to the altar. Indeed, if a messenger was to come knocking on my door now with news that he’d been cut down… or shot… or skewered in a crowd…’
My hands had tightened around the seat of my chair. The rain had begun again.
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘What did Mistress Blanche want with you?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Oh, come now, John. Who does the Queen trust more than Mistress Blanche to conduct business of a highly personal nature? And what personal business might concern you, as a long-time friend and confidant of Robert Dudley?’
‘I don’t know, I can’t—’
‘Think you not that the Queen might wish you to perform, in secret, a similar task to the one you did before the coronation?’
The sound of rain against the good glass panes was like to a cackling laughter. I felt my heart lurch.
‘You mean… she might want me to choose, by the stars, a day that’s mete for…?’
‘A royal wedding,’ Cecil said. ‘Indeed.’
XI
Dark Merlin
BY NOW I’D learned that Cecil never ventured an opinion without a degree of secret certainty. It was said that his ambitious young fixer, Walsingham, had agents at court who didn’t even know of each other. Spies who spied on spies.
I leaned back, gazing at the window. London had misted, the steeples no more than indents on a bedsheet.
A terrible logic here. The Queen, for all her will and vigour, was ever indecisive, changing her mind three times in as many hours. Would make a firm decision then sleep on it and awake uncertain again. Dudley was no longer someone to play with. She would have accepted that the urging of her heart would not be enough. Might well seek some indication of heavenly affirmation, the design of destiny.
Might seek a date, however many months hence, which the stars found fortuitous for the announcement of a betrothal which at present would be abhorrent to so many.
Behind me, the coal fire hissed as rainwater dripped down the chimney. I took in a slow breath.
‘How does Blanche feel about this?’
Cecil smiled and made no reply. Which may have been an answer in itself. Blanche was a cautious and watchful woman who only lived to keep the Queen secure. No wonder she hadn’t turned her head this morning as her barge had glid past.
‘If the Queen’s determined on this, then she’ll try again to have Blanche reach me,’ I said. ‘What then?’
‘That, John… is precisely why we’re having this discussion.’
‘I can’t refuse. You know I can’t.’
‘Of course you can’t.’
‘And if what Dudley says about the coincidence of their times of birth is correct, then their destinies may indeed appear interwoven.’
‘Oh, please.’ The trestle groaned as Cecil leaned forward. ‘I have no doubts about your ability in this regard. Which is why I don’t want you and your fucking charts within a mile of the Queen at this time.’
‘I see.’
Cecil leaned back, folding his arms, giving me silence in which to consider my situation. I recalled how, on our return from Glastonbury, I’d been summoned here and shown a pamphlet handed out free on the streets. It was heralding a second coming – the birth of the child of Satan, the Antichrist, in the new black Jerusalem. Which was London, the fastest-growing city in Europe.
False prophecy originating from France, seedbed of the campaign to put the Queen of Scots on the English throne. I myself had been named as some kind of dark Merlin, canting spells at the lying-in of Queen Elizabeth, pregnant with the bastard child of Robert Dudley. Elizabeth, daughter of the adulterous witch, Anne Boleyn. They were now saying that the Queen – thanks, some said, to the magic and prayers of the French prophet and magus Nostradamus – had miscarried the babe. But the devil would not give in so easily.
I said at last, ‘What would you have me do?’
Cecil rose and put his robe back on, like a judge about to pass a hard sentence.
‘As I see it there are two approaches to this problem. One is for you to spend some time with your charts and return with the information that the stars at present are frowning on the prospects for a union of two people born under their particular signs.’
‘Which, as I’ve already said—’
‘Would be unlikely, yes.’
‘Sir William, I spent more than a year teaching mathematics and the elements of astrology to Dudley. One of the subjects he showed most interest in. What I’m saying is that to convince Dudley – and even the Queen, who’s far from ignorant of planetary movement – that the stars disapprove of their match—’
‘Or might better approve of them under some heavenly configuration not due to take place for… say, five years?’
A lot could have happened in five years. The Queen’s infatuation might have lost some of its fire. Or equally it might be proved beyond all reasonable doubt that Dudley had not killed his wife. Who could say?
I shrugged.
‘If it was not the answer she sought… I’m far from the only astrologer in England. All it needs is for one of them to go to another and my competency would be called into question. Also my integrity and all of my past work, and worse than that—’
‘All right. We’ll go no further down that road. Examined and rejected. This leaves the second path… from which you disappear.’
Cecil rose, sweeping his robe behind him, and picked a single lump of coal from the scuttle with tongs and dropped it on the fire.
‘I mean on one of your ventures in search of the Hidden. We spoke of this earlier. Wouldn’t be the first time, would it? Were you to be gone even for a matter of weeks, that might be sufficient.’
‘Oh.’
I felt a momentary relief. For one instant in time, I’d thought he’d meant that it was to be permanent, and the air betwixt us had seemed, of a sudden, cold with menace.
‘Do you have a matter of, ah, science, requiring your specific and immediate attention?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘Preferably in some place at least two days’ ride from London.’
Dear God, this man thought he could move anyone around, like a chesspiece, to suit his purposes.
Which, of course, he could. After a period when his advice had rarely been sought, Amy’s death looked to be putting him back where he was certain he belonged. And maybe he was right; I could think of no one at this time who was fit to replace him.
Replacing the tongs, Cecil went back to his chair.
‘Methinks this expedition of yours should begin at once. Would you agree?’
‘Sir William—’
‘Which means you won’t be lying at your mother’s house tonight.’
‘But my mother—’ I rose to my feet. ‘My mother has need of me. The fabric of the house wants repair, the roof leaks.’
I’d used this one before, but it was no less true for that.