As the Sparks Fly Upward (26 page)

One of the guards nodded and motioned him inside. He left, but was gone only a short time, and Colin said nothing to the other guard. Finally, the tall guard returned and said, “Her Majesty will see you, sir.”

Colin followed the man into the house, which was very large and ornate. There was dark furniture and portraits of the Essex line. He was directed into a hall, where another two guards stood. They stepped to one side, and one of them opened the door. Colin nodded, then went inside. The door closed behind him and he saw Mary standing beside a window, looking out. She turned to greet him, and he felt as always the power and force of this woman. She was forty-four now, but looked much younger. She was dressed in a dark green gown studded with jewels. Her hair was done up in a French fashion, and it flashed with diamonds that were intertwined among the locks.

“Ah, my dear Dr. Winslow, at last.”

Colin stepped forward and kissed the hand she extended. Her hand closed on his as she pulled him closer. There was a magnetism about this woman that was almost frightening. Colin knew her history. He believed she was able to do almost anything with any man she wanted—with the exception of Sir Francis Walsingham!

He smiled and replied, “It's good to see you, Your Majesty, but I understand your servant is very ill.”

“Yes, and she is very dear to me, Doctor. Come, you must help her.”

“What are her symptoms, Your Majesty?”

Colin listened carefully as the queen spoke. Finally she paused, and from what she said he was not optimistic. “Perhaps I can see her now?”

“Of course. They allow me to keep her with me and my ladies. We take care of her, but now you are here.”

Colin followed the queen across the spacious room. The sick woman lay on a bed underneath a window that spread the summer light on her face. He looked down, then bent over. “Madame, I'm Dr. Colin Winslow. I've come to care for you.”

“This is the finest young doctor in England, Renee,” Mary said. “He has been a friend to me for many years, as was his father. Do all that he says, for we must get you well.”

Renee Billaud's eyes were open, but there was an aura of death about her. Colin had seen many patients with the shadow of death on them, and it was with a sinking feeling that he examined her carefully. The queen excused herself, and finally Colin straightened up. “We will have to help you get better, Madame.”

“I will not live,” she said in a very quiet and exhausted voice.

“We must be positive. I'll make some medication for you, and you must take it.” He saw that the woman had given up. She had a lump in her stomach that he knew instinctively was a large tumor. There was no way to operate. Indeed, there was nothing to be done but to try to ease her pain.

Colin turned and went to where Mary was waiting for him. She came forward immediately to meet him, asking, “What do you think, Dr. Winslow?”

“She is very ill, Your Majesty.”

“I know. It breaks my heart. You must stay here and do everything you can.”

“Of course.”

“Look, let me show you this.” She walked across the room to an oak door and opened it. Inside was a room no more than ten feet square. It contained a single bed, a chair, and a table. A large window allowed sunlight to come in. “This is for you so you will always be available to my Renee. You'll do this for me, won't you?”

“Of course I will, Your Majesty. I must warn you she is very ill. But you know that.”

“The good God, He knows all of this. I, along with all my women, am praying for her. We say our rosaries many times a day. But I feel much better that you are here. Please do what you can for her.”

“Of course I shall, Your Majesty.”

As Colin bent over Renee, he knew that her time was very short. He had been at Chatley for nine days, and he had seen the woman sinking deeper into the darkness that clouded her. Death was draining her spirit. All during the time Colin was caring for her, he had noticed that many visitors came into the queen's chamber. At first, Mary had seen to it that she spoke to them privately, so Colin was able to learn little. But as the days passed, the queen became less careful. It was almost as if he had become like a piece of furniture. He always looked busy by mixing medicines and potions, and Mary seemed to have forgotten him.

She is certainly carrying on some sort of plot
.
I need to find some evidence for Sir Francis—but how can I do that?

He was well aware that Sir Francis examined any message or letter that came from Mary. Without appearing to, Colin made note of every person who came, every bit of mail, and every message that came or that Mary sent—as much as he actually saw, anyway.

It was late on a Thursday night, and he had been sitting beside the sick woman for hours. He knew by this time that she
might die at any minute. He leaned forward and studied her face, then asked softly, “Can you hear me, Madame Billaud?”

The eyes fluttered. Then the woman opened her eyes and whispered, “Yes. I must go to meet my God.”

“I think you must, Renee. We all must at one time or another. Shall I get your priest?”

The woman didn't answer. Her eyes closed, and Colin thought she had slipped away. Then her breast heaved and she began to speak. She spoke in French. Colin was happy that he knew French, for she said, “You must be careful, Your Majesty. If you don't find a hiding space all will be lost—” She spoke rapidly, and Colin leaned in to hear her more clearly. Much of what she said made little sense, but finally he heard her say, “The hiding place for your messages, it is not good. It will be found.”

“No,” Colin whispered.

“It's too carefully hidden.” “It's not. The first place the spies will search is the chest, and they will find the compartment and all will be lost.”

The chest! A secret compartment! Instantly, Colin knew that he had discovered something. He gave a quick look at the dying woman and then moved across the chamber. The queen's sleeping chamber was off to one side, but she wasn't yet in bed. He went over to a large chest that he had noticed before. It was ornately carved of a dark wood. Carefully, he ran his hands over the exterior; then, holding his breath, he lifted the lid. It moved silently. He saw that it was filled with articles of clothing and coverlets. Despair seized him, for didn't know where to start. He laid the lid back and searched quickly. He could find nothing, and started to lower the lid. Suddenly, his hand touched something. It was on the underside of the lid. He lifted it back, and by the dim light of the single candle, he saw that there were carvings. Quickly, he ran his hand over them; then he apparently touched something, for there was a click that sounded like thunder to him in the silence. Instantly, he saw that a catch had been
released and a secret drawer opened. He pulled out a series of papers, then moved over to the candle and began to read.

He read rapidly, for he knew that if he was caught, all would be in vain. There were only three papers, but he knew as soon as he saw them they were the evidence that Walsingham needed. They were written in Mary's own hand and laid out the plan to assassinate the queen of England! He knew that he could not take the papers out, for Mary would know instantly they were gone. He memorized the contents, then replaced the papers in the secret compartment and closed the lid. He went back, making no sound, to the dying woman.

Less than an hour later he sent for Mary, who, in turn, brought a priest. Colin stood back after informing Mary that this was the end. He watched as the priest performed the final rites. When it was over, Mary came over and held her hand out to Colin. He took her hand and saw that she was weeping. Mary said, “I knew it was hopeless, but I had to try everything.”

Suddenly, Colin's heart skipped a beat. He knew that he held this woman's life in his hands. He knew also that she had done evil things, but at that moment she was nothing but a lonely woman who had had a miserable life. And now something more ominous lay ahead of her. He bowed and said, “I wish I could have done more.”

Early the next morning, Colin left Chatley. He went at once to find Walsingham. He had been told he was at Richmond Palace. There was some difficulty getting in to see him. When he finally did, Walsingham looked at him with his piercing glance. “Well, what did you find?”

“I found what I wish I had not.”

“Is it evidence?” Walsingham asked eagerly.

“It was letters that Mary wrote agreeing to a proposal by a group of men to kill the queen. I can quote them for you, but you will need the papers themselves for all the details.”

“Where are they?”

“In a secret compartment in a large chest in her room.”

At once Walsingham moved to the door, and a large dark-haired man came immediately to stand close to him. He whispered something to the man, who left immediately. Walsingham came back to stand before Colin. He put his hands on the young man's shoulders, saying, “This is a noble thing you have done. I pray they will still be there.”

“They should be. Mary is brokenhearted over the death of her servant. I don't think she will do anything until after the funeral.”

“Finally we will have an end to this thing! Come, I want you to write down everything that those papers say.” He put a piece of paper in front of Colin. Suddenly he saw something in Colin's face that made him stop. “You don't regret helping your queen, do you?”

“I feel sorry for Mary.”

“She is not a woman to feel sorry for. She is an assassin.”

“Perhaps so, but I only saw a woman.”

“You are too soft. Come now, write all this down; then you can go back to your doctoring.”

18

October 24, 1586

C
olin and Dr. Teague stood looking down at Brandon. He grinned up at them, and though he was pale and his voice was weak, he seemed cheerful. “Well,
two
doctors! Couldn't you get three or four more?”

“You've got the two finest doctors in England, or anywhere else for that matter. Now, be still. I must finish examining you, Lord Stoneybrook,” Teague snapped.

“You're not through?” Brandon began coughing, and Colin poured him a glass of water. “Blasted cough! I don't know why you have to examine me anymore, Dr. Teague. You have poked and prodded me until I feel like a specimen in a laboratory.”

“That's the way we doctors have to do it,” Teague answered. “We have to make the disease worse than it is so that we can charge higher fees.”

Colin paid no attention to the conversation going on between his father and Teague. His mother had written that his father was very ill, and he and Teague had left at once. They had arrived at Stoneybrook two days ago, and both had been shocked at how weak Colin's father was. His mother had tried to prepare him for this, but Colin soon discovered that it was one thing to
have a patient you don't know and another to have your own father as one.

“I think I'll make another potion while you finish examining the patient, Dr. Teague,” Colin said.

“Don't bring me any more of that vile-tasting medicine! Make it taste better, Son.”

Colin hid a small smile. “I'll try.” He left the room, and instantly he was met by his mother, Adam, and Heather. Adam had a worried expression on his face. “Blast it all! I can face an enemy ship that outguns me, but I feel as helpless as a pup when sickness comes. How is he, Brother?”

“It's hard to make a diagnosis,” Colin said. “There's so much sickness going around right now. I hope it's not the sweating sickness.” This was a disease that had swept over England, characterized by profuse sweating and a tremendously high fever that usually killed the patient.

“Do you think it could be that, Son?” Eden asked quickly. She moved closer to Adam and held his arm tightly. “I've been so worried about him.”

“I don't think so. These things always seem worse than they are. Most of the time patients get better with no doctoring or medicine.”

Adam said grimly, “That doesn't say much for your profession.” He kept firing questions until finally he said, “I've got to go.”

“Must you leave?” Heather asked.

“Yes. I've got to attend Mary's trial.” He turned to Colin and slapped him on the back. “I can't tell you how proud I am of you, Colin! It was you who exposed that conspiracy.”

Adam didn't notice that his brother took no pride in this. Colin dropped his head and said in despair, “I wish I hadn't had to have anything to do with it.”

“You had to do it. Your queen's life was at stake. Did I tell you that I was at Babington's execution?” Anthony Babington
had been the mastermind behind the plot that Mary was involved in to kill Queen Elizabeth. “It was a fine execution,” Adam said with some savor. “Elizabeth isn't much for harsh punishment, but she was furious at Babington for hatching a plot to take her throne. She demanded the most painful execution that her executioners could think of.”