Queen & Country (19 page)

Meg sat by the hearth, in a pool of lamplight, working on some drapery to furnish her new house. Her little daughter Martha, settled
at her feet, sat playing with a box of brightly coloured threads. The boy was at his books, and Giles had left for town, through a drizzled sleet, against the kind of sky that never comes to light, but drags on from a sluggish dawn towards a dreary dusk. Hew and Frances finished off the last crumbs of a breakfast, leisurely and late, drinking cups of warm spiced ale beside a blazing fire. Frances leant from time to time, to find a scrap of silk, a button or a hook to dress a little puppet she was stitching for the child, while Hew watched the firelight flatter her soft cheek, and looked upon a book, he did not try to read. He found himself complete, and blissfully content. Their peace was broken then, jarring and abrupt, by an insistent hammering, resounding through the house. They were neither of them dressed to face the outside world, Frances in a kirtle loaned to her by Meg, of a soft blue wool, and Hew in shirt and slops, his coat and points undone. Meg set down her work. ‘Something is amiss, to bring a body hurtling through the sleet and snaw.' Canny Bett appeared, to announce the coming of the crownar Andrew Wood, ‘to consult wi' Mistress Meg, upon an urgent matter'. And Hew rose up at once, to face the coming storm. He looked upon Sir Andrew as a dark malevolence, brooding and intent, without a qualm or conscience to dilute his force. But he was stopped in his tracks when the crownar appeared, for slung in his cloak was the corpse of a child. Sir Andrew took no note of Hew, but went at once to Meg. ‘The wee one isnae well.'

Meg was on her feet, and had lifted the little one out of his hands.

Hew thought, she is dead, for sure, that child is dead, the limbs that slipped lifeless, the white waxen face must surely be dead, void of all hope. But Meg brought her close to the heat of the fire. ‘You did not bring her all this way, in the biting cold?'

‘From St Andrews,' Andrew said. ‘Since my brother's death, it is a convenience for me to lie at his house, that otherwise were vacant, when I come to town.'

That was like the man. He would not shed a tear to see a brother lost, or spare to let one hang. Though Robert Wood had been a
brute, that few might mourn his passing, as a brother should. Sir Andrew lived at Largo, half a day's ride south; and in his role as sheriff travelled over Fife, as well as to the court, where he served as comptroller to the king's grace. His office was performed with calculated ruthlessness, uncannily at odds with this show of tenderness towards a little child. ‘I wrapped her up in blankets, safe against the wind. Elizabeth was terrified that it might be the plague. She will not eat nor drink, and she is sic a fragile, insubstantial thing.'

The child had hair like flax, spun out in a thread. Her cheeks began to flutter with the smallest bloom of breath.

Meg said, ‘It is not the plague. The cold air, as I think, has helped reduce a fire and fever in her brain. Do you see, sir, that her ear burns red and hot? I doubt there is infection there. So it will present itself, in a little one.'

‘Can you cure her, then?' Sir Andrew was quiet, respectful to Meg. That was not like him, at all.

‘Certainly,' she said. ‘I have syrup to cool her, and coax back her appetite. She is a delicate thing. How old is she, now?'

‘Not long turned three. Elizabeth thinks she is small for her age. But she had a difficult start.'

Meg nodded. ‘She is delicate flower, that droops from the want of a drink. And, like a flower that is parched, you will marvel at how quickly she comes back to life. She shall have an onion, roasted in the fire, dropped into her ear, and a little poppy juice, to help relieve the pain. And it please you, sir, I will take her now to the kitchen and dispensary. Frances, will you come, and bring Martha too? I should like your help, and these men will want to talk.'

For the first time, Andrew Wood chose to notice Hew, and they eyed each other, warily. Together in a company, neither showed their thoughts. Once they were alone, Andrew spoke up first, ‘I have come lately from court, where the king finds it strange you should be in Scotland, and yet fail to pay your respects. He has a pardon to give. He marvels that you seem too proud to come and beg it from him. Though I make no offer to dispose your life, it pains me to
observe you throw away so carelessly, what has taken others such care to procure.'

Hew, who was aware that he was overdue at court, was irked to be reminded of it by Sir Andrew Wood. ‘I had thought, sir, you had taken it upon yourself to dispose of my life, freely at your will, with no regard to mine.'

‘If you mean, the efforts I engaged to save your stubborn carcass, thriftless though it was, and to protect your family, I accept your thanks,' the coroner replied.

‘I think you mistook my poor life for your own, when you plucked me from Scotland and sent me to Walsingham. Perhaps you did confuse my treachery with yours.'

Sir Andrew seemed amused at that. ‘Walsingham, in truth, repented for his part; and you and I could never hope to play that trick again.'

‘As I assure you, sir, the trick was only yours. And so much should I swear to, if asked, by the king.'

‘That will profit little, Hew, You should know, that I have that tract still, I took from the desk in your library. What was it, now? A translation of Buchanan's book, on the laws of kingship. That work has been banned. Its dissemination is a capital offence.'

The translation was made by Nicholas Colp, to occupy his fractious mind in his last days on this earth. No earthly harm was meant by it. And yet, by implication in it, Hew might stand accused. The coroner had kept it, as assurance that the king would never come to hear of his pact with Walsingham.

‘Touching, was it not?' he sneered. ‘And dedicat, to you. You may sometime have it back, when the time is right. That is not now, I think.'

‘You are, for a traitor, sure of yourself.' Hew could not deny the force of Sir Andrew's argument. He felt a vicious pang, that the word against him had been forced from Nicholas, a flagrant violation of an honest friend. It was not fear of death that worked to stay his hand, his will to cut the sheriff from his safety at a stroke, but a fear for Frances, left alone behind. It was not a fear that he had felt before.

‘I saw Robert Lachlan,' the crownar said then, ‘at your stable outside. He gave me a look that he would have cut me there, down to the quick, had I not carried the child. And had I not carried the child, so I had done unto him. I never liked that man. And I do not commend you for your choice of friend.'

‘No? When you work for Walsingham, you cannot be particular. All his men are cutthroats, renegats and thieves.' All but Laurence Tomson, Hew emended privately. ‘Robert is among them the most worthy and most honest, since he does not pretend to be other than he is, a simple man for hire.'

Sir Andrew did not shrink, but smiled upon his rage. ‘God love and keep you, Hew, can we not be friends? Can you not accept it, in your stubborn heart, I moved to save your life?'

‘And you tell me why, then I may consider it,' said Hew. ‘For I am not so vain, as to think that it was sentiment, or any love for me. Is it that you like to live your life at risk?'

‘As to that, I find no solace in it, now that I grow old. Shall we say, perhaps, that you have influential friends? Let the thing rest, or we both shall repent of it. Time has moved on. For myself, I have done with the court. My tenure as comptroller there is coming to an end. And I am worn and spent. The king has squeezed me dry. And I swear to you, I never did betray his purpose or his cause, but with a good intent, to see him safe and sound. Whatever you may think of me, I had his good at heart. And what have I to show for it? My purse is worn to threads, and my dead brother's too. The king says, for that he kens he cannot ever pay to me the debt, that I have expended to settle his accounts, he will let me keep the lands that were mortgaged in his cause, and graciously bestows upon me, what was mine before. He serves the debt with thanks. The present crisis to our state and country should concern us now. For if he came to know, that either you or I had dared to deal with Walsingham, on any secret terms, we should both hang high. He is greatly perplexed at the death of the queen.'

Sir Andrew did seem wearied now. And Hew was quite prepared
to set aside their feud, to hear this present news, more pressing to his cause. ‘How does it move him?' he asked.

‘That is hard to say. Outwardly, of course, he claims himself much wronged, and grieved at it. He marvels that so strange and unkind a thing was done. Before the loving populace, he wrings out his tears, crying for revenge.'

‘You think he does not feel that way, at heart?'

The coroner confessed, ‘I think he is conflicted in it. He cannot help but feel the slight to him, since she was a mother, since she was a queen, no son nor king could help to feel a pang at that, and shiver at the blade that whistled close to him. He will be anxious too, lest any taint shall fall on him, through an association that was irksome while she lived. He will not wish to enrage, or lose the will of his own people, when they cry out for revenge. He will not wish to seem to them subservient or weak. And on the other hand, why should his Grace weep, for a Catholic mother he neither saw nor loved, who wished to see her own son toppled from his throne? Her death is, at best, a convenience to him. If he can show Elizabeth an honest, proper grief, he may hope to profit from a brave show of his righteousness, and win from her the hope that he has always dreamt of; he sees within his grasp the future English Crown.'

‘Has he come so calculating, now?' This did not match Hew's picture of the fretful bairn who trembled at the footsteps of his watchful lords.

‘He has grown beyond the boy you knew and fled from last. He has a shrewd intelligence, and knows he holds a fragile promise balanced in his hands. For that reason, it seems likely he will bide his time. He has broken off his embassy with England, and the queen's ambassador is kept at bay at Berwick, for the king protests he cannot keep him safe, nor send to him a passport at this present time, so fervent are the passions of the people in this country, at what they do conceive of as a monstrous crime. He might as well declare embarquements on all Englishmen, for his delay does nought but stir the people's flame. The borders have been closed, and Sir Francis
Walsingham must whistle for his spies. No one dares send news. And you bring none, I doubt?'

Hew said, ‘Not for you.' He was encouraged, still, despite the dreadful news. If there was no word from England, Frances might be safe.

The crownar laughed at that. ‘Still, you do persist, in thinking that our end and purpose cannot be the same. When will you be taught, our hopes are intertwined?'

Before Hew could retort, Meg returned with Frances and the children by her side. Sir Andrew Wood's small girl, so desolate of life, had made what seemed to Hew a miraculous recovery. She was walking now, barefoot and unsteadily, holding onto Meg's hand. Sir Andrew cried, ‘God love you, Mistress Meg! I thought the lass was gone!' And Hew saw such a feeling flood that uncouth face, that he was startled and amazed, as though it were on Andrew Wood that Meg had worked her miracle, and not his little child.

‘There is no wonder in it,' Meg said with a smile. ‘It happens oft with little ones, that fall into decline, that they come round as quickly. I wish that it might always prove the case. Take this physic for her. In another day or two, she will be quite well.'

The small girl stumbled to Sir Andrew's side, holding up her arms. ‘Dada,' she scolded, ‘Whisht, do not cry.'

‘Never, my pet.' He lifted her, and she settled on his shoulder, sucking at a thumb.

‘She is a pretty thing,' Frances spoke up, in her clear English voice. ‘She is lovely, sir. Is she not pretty, Hew? Such enormous eyes. I should hope to have a little girl like this.'

Sir Andrew turned towards her, thoughtful in his gaze. ‘I thank you, mistress. As I do confess to you, she has brought us joy. Forgive my plainness here, but we were not introduced. I am Andrew Wood, crownar and sheriff in Fife. I keep the king's peace in this place. And while you are here, you may be assured, you will have my protection.'

‘Shall I need it, sir?' Frances asked, bemused.

‘As I should suppose. For you are a stranger, in a hostile place.
And, as I infer, you have come with him.' He glanced across at Hew, a clear and frank amusement lighting up his face. Hew glared back at him. He would not, for the world, let Frances understand that they had anything to hide. ‘Frances is my wife,' he said, ‘and wants no help but mine.'

‘Now I understand what kept you from the court. What man would not be stayed by such a fair distraction? You must brace yourself, mistress, and wipe your soft tears, let your husband be torn from your side for a while, or the king will be cross with him. God love you Hew, as I do,' Sir Andrew answered, laughing, ‘hurry to the court, before the king has wind of it you have an English wife. Else you will find good fortune, even such as yours, will not last for long. Now I must depart, and take this bairn back home, before my wife despairs of her. For, I do confess, she loves her as her own.'

Hew asked, compelled, ‘Is she not yours?' He looked upon the child, her cool commanding gaze and hair like linen flax, spun out to a thread, the shadow of a bloom upon her dewy cheek.

Sir Andrew grinned at Frances, answering to Hew. ‘Can ye not tell? She is Clare's.'

Frances had waited all day, until they lay naked in bed. When there was nothing but darkness between them, she asked, ‘Who is Clare?'

Hew answered her, ‘His brother's wife. They died in the plague.'

‘That is sad. You liked her, I think.' Her voice sounded small. The curtains were closed, against the night air. He could feel her warmth close, though they did not touch.