Queen Elizabeth's Daughter (12 page)

A large crowd walked toward the Great Hall. Mary noticed Mistress Eleanor walking with Oxford. She was laughing and his arm caressed her waist. But his eyes, his weak, watery eyes were on Mary.

*   *   *

After dining, the courtiers and ladies awaited the queen for an evening of revelry. The musicians played several saucy tunes, the words of which were too indecent for the ladies to hear, let alone sing. But the men called for ale and drank, then sang and drank some more. Several played at dice while others challenged each other in chess or cards. The ladies chatted and a few were busy with their needles. Every woman was surrounded by four or five men, or so it seemed to Mary. She thought how hard it was to keep one’s virtue in such a situation.

Finally, the queen arrived. She and Lord Robert led the dance, beginning with the daring la Volta. Mary watched as Lord Robert lifted the queen higher and higher, often touching her very near her most private places to get his leverage. Mary had never danced this particular dance with a man. She and the other ladies had practiced it in the queen’s chambers, but only Lady Essex and Mistress Frances had performed the dance for the queen. But Lady Essex had been sent home to her husband months ago and the queen had not called for the dance since.

“I would ask you to join me in the dance, but I fear this one is beyond my skill. Would you care to walk outside instead?” said Sir John.

Mary was grateful he had not asked her to dance and she quickly assented to a stroll under the night sky.

“Look! A falling star! Make a wish, quickly!” said Mary as she closed her eyes and wished for good health for Her Majesty.

“What did you wish for, Mary?” said Sir John, standing very close to her.

“The queen’s health. And you?” said Mary.

“I wished for someone to fill up the hole that is in my heart,” said Sir John.

Mary gazed up at him. In the dim light, he looked young, but the sadness that hugged him like a heavy cloak clung to him, making him seem older than his years. Somehow, this made Mary tender toward him.

“How long has it been since your Eleanor died?” said Mary very softly.

“A little over two years—it seems a lifetime some days. But on others, it seems as if I heard her voice only yesterday. I am sorry. This is not what I intended…” said Sir John.

Mary stepped away from him and gently picked up his hand and kissed it.

“I fear there is no cure for your pain, Sir John. You put a brave face on it, but I know that ache only too well. I fear you and I have a streak of sorrow in our natures that, perhaps, was not there before we lost our loved ones. And while we may wish for the joys we could have had, now we must accept our sadness and allow it to work through our spirits. For with this grief comes compassion for others who suffer. And with compassion comes love, which Our Lord commands. There will be a happier time for you, sir. Tears may last all the night but joy cometh in the morning,” said Mary.

“You are very kind, mistress. I hope this means we shall be friends. Please call me John,” he said.

“We
are
friends. And you may call me Mary,” she said.

Silence fell between them but there was no discomfort in it. Mary felt as if she had known this man her whole life. She felt his strength and sensed his tender heart. And she felt the pull of his body on her own, something she had never before experienced. She was actually leaning toward him.

Before she realized what she was doing, she embraced him, her arms around his neck and her face against his chest. She could feel his beating heart and hear his quickened breathing. His arms wrapped around her and they stood together without speaking.

Finally, he pushed her away from him.

“I hear them playing a country jig. Shall we give it a try? Just out here, where no one will see us,” he said.

“I would be happy to attempt it,” she said. They embraced and he spun her quickly around. Though they had never danced together before, their bodies moved as if they had always been joined in motion.

*   *   *

As winter gripped London, the Thames froze hard enough for the queen to ride her carriage across the ice and a Frost Fair was held on the river. Mary and Mistress Eleanor made their way from Richmond Palace where the queen had moved her court after celebrating the New Year. Pebbles were strewn across the slippery paths for traction but the foot traffic had worn them down and now the way had become treacherous.

“Do not let me fall. I had no idea this path would be so slick,” said Mistress Eleanor as she held on to Mary’s arm.

“If you fall, I’ll go down, too. But smell the gingerbread baking—shall we buy a piece?” said Mary.

“That must be the stand over there—see, where all the people are lined up?” said Mistress Eleanor.

“Truly, I have not seen so many on the ‘regular’ streets of London—this strange Frost Fair brings them out. I suppose it is the novelty of shopping on a frozen river,” said Mary.

The two ladies made for the small stand where several large ovens stood, and watched as the baker brought forth steaming gingerbread in enormous pans. He took a knife and cut the bread into large squares. A boy, his apprentice, stood at the front of the stand, singing out, “Gingerbread! Hot gingerbread!” and handing pieces to those who had given the woman in a dark blue woolen dress a farthing.

People of a humbler sort allowed the queen’s ladies to step to the front of the line. Holding the hot gingerbread in their gloved hands, Mary and Mistress Eleanor walked away while biting into their treat.

“Delicious! Better than we get at court!” said Mistress Eleanor.

“Oh, it
is
really good. I am going to tell the queen about this baker—he should
be
at court!” said Mary who headed toward a small wooden crate. She picked it up, emptied it of what dirt was inside, turned it over, and sat down.

“Do you see another box?” said Mistress Eleanor.

“No. We can take turns,” said Mary, finishing her food and brushing the crumbs from her hands. “I hope I haven’t stained these gloves—the queen gave them to me.”

“She’ll give you another pair. She keeps you dressed royally. The rest of us are jealous, you know,” said Mistress Eleanor.

“You aren’t jealous when I must attend those infernal meetings in the Presence Chamber with all those serious old men,” said Mary, smiling.

A voice thundered behind them.

“Old men? Old men? What old men?” he said.

Mary turned to see Sir John Skydemore coming to join them, his face serious but his eyes looking full of mirth.

“Old men like you!” said Mary, laughing.

“I suppose I do seem old to such a child as yourself,” said Sir John. “I am but twenty-eight.”

“It is your serious manner that makes you seem old, Sir John. Many of those older than you act like braying donkeys. You, however, are modest and mature,” said Mistress Eleanor.

“You make me sound quite dull, mistress. Do I seem so to you, Mary?” he said.

“Well, when you
are
dull, I simply introduce a new topic for discussion—that seems to bring out the life in you,” said Mary.

“I had hoped to invite you to visit Mortlake with me this afternoon, as Dr. Dee has asked me to come by to discuss astronomy, but I suppose that might be too
boring
for such a lively lass,” said Sir John.

“Mortlake! Honestly! Oh John, I would love to go! You know that,” said Mary, rising from the crate.

“Well, then, I shall meet you in the Great Hall at three o’clock. Do dress warmly—it is quite a walk,” said Sir John.

“Have no fear—I shall wear my heaviest cloak,” said Mary. She watched as he bowed to them, then walked away, almost slipping on the ice as he rounded the gingerbread stall.

“You have been keeping secrets from me—I think you care for him!” said Mistress Eleanor.

Mary said nothing. Then she grabbed her friend’s hand and pulled her onto the ice.

“Let us skate, Nora! Let us slide like slippery eels,” she said as the two young women slid onto the path, laughing and gasping for breath all the way to the palace.

Fifteen

January 1570

The sun glinted off the mounds of snow that had been shoveled in order to make a path wide enough for those on foot as Mary and Sir John made their way to Mortlake. Mary’s cloak flowed behind her, billowing out like an ocean wave, the fine green velvet the color of the sea. Sir John walked beside her, carefully holding her elbow in case she should slip. He was much taller than she and his long strides caused her to half skip, half run to keep pace with him. Finally, they came to a long house which looked as if rooms had been added again and again.

Sir John knocked on the heavy wooden door and it opened immediately. A young serving woman looked at them, motioned them to hurry inside, and shut the door quickly against the cold air. She took their cloaks and hung them on a wooden peg next to the door. Then she brought them to a blazing fire in a large hearth. Mary stood with her back to the flames, feeling the delicious warmth crawl up to her hair. Sir John faced the hearth and rubbed his hands together.

“Ah, my friend, I see you have arrived. What? And brought a pretty girl with you?” said Dr. Dee, dressed in black robes and carrying a large book in his hand.

“May I present Mistress Mary Shelton. Mistress Shelton has an avid interest in science and I thought she might enjoy seeing your instruments and, especially, your magnificent library,” said Sir John, presenting Mary.

She curtsied to the famous scientist and was rewarded with a smile.

“I am pleased to be able to show my toys to such a lovely maid,” said Dr. Dee.

“And I thank you for allowing me to see them. The queen has often spoken of your work and how much she admires your great learning,” said Mary.

“Shelton, Shelton—ah, yes! I remember now, the queen’s cousin. I cast your chart for Her Majesty … and you have an interest in the sciences?” said Dr. Dee.

“Yes. I have studied all the subjects beloved by Her Majesty—Greek and Latin, mathematics and astronomy. The queen has seen that I have received a very good education—the New Learning, she calls it,” said Mary.

“Though it be very old,” said Dr. Dee, chuckling to himself. He turned to open a door to the hallway.

“Come along then. I shall show you my sanctum sanctorum,” said Dr. Dee, leading them down a dark corridor.

“I hope we shall emerge alive,” whispered Mary.

“And not be changed into frogs,” said Sir John, his hand on her waist.

After much winding, finally they entered an enormous room filled with books. A large window allowed in sunshine and Mary stared, her mouth open.

“There must be hundreds, nay, thousands of books here! Look! Here is a book of maps—that is the New World, is it not?” said Mary, pointing at a large leather-bound atlas that lay open on a large table.

“That it is, and here is where I suspect a passageway might be, allowing us to sail around to Russia. We are here, in tiny little England—yet I believe that if we can rule the sea, we shall spread our great England all over the world—an empire,” said Dr. Dee.

“I do not believe that shall ever come to pass—Spain and Portugal send their ships and priests to the New World and they are gaining all the booty. Poor England cannot compete with such great powers, I fear,” said Sir John.

“That is true for now. However, I have seen in my glass what the future holds,” said Dr. Dee. “Here are some instruments of navigation you might find of interest.” Dr. Dee pointed to several strange apparatuses lined up on the long table. Mary watched as Sir John and Dr. Dee discussed and examined each. However, she did not hear what they said. She was too busy thinking about Dr. Dee’s glass and how it could portend upcoming events. She wondered if she might see into her own future.

“Dr. Dee, can you explain to me about your magic crystal? The queen said you look into it to see what is to come?” said Mary, interrupting their talk.

“Yes, child, though I do not understand the workings of the thing just yet. I shall bring the ball hither,” Dr. Dee said.

Mary watched as he disappeared into a dark closet. She listened as he fumbled around, then heard an “ouch.” Finally, he reappeared holding a golden sack. As he walked toward her, he removed a large, clear globe. He polished it with the gold cloth and beckoned Mary to come to him.

“This is a crystal in which, if you look long enough, you shall see something—I cannot predict what, nor can I predict if what you see will be true. I am not certain as to the method by which the future is transmitted—I do know that every object exerts some sort of force on every other object. That is how the stars and other heavenly bodies influence humanity—they are large objects and thus have a large influence,” said Dr. Dee. “Would you like to try it?”

“Absolutely!” said Mary.

“Absolutely not!” said Sir John.

Mary turned to him.

“Who knows what demons you might raise using that thing,” said Sir John.

“If Dr. Dee deems it safe, I do not see any cause for
you
to be concerned,” said Mary, her face flaming with anger. “God’s teeth, you have no rule over me! I shall do as I please.”

“I do not wish to be the cause of discord. I shall put the crystal back in its sack,” said Dr. Dee.

“No! My dear Dr. Dee, I am cousin to the queen and have been educated in her household. I have no fear of science—I wish to see what may lie ahead for me. I have talked many times with Lord Robert about such things and he, too, has told me of the power of this orb,” said Mary. She looked defiantly at Sir John. His lips pursed, he did not speak.

“Well then, let us try it,” said Dr. Dee.

He carried the ball to a table on which stood a wooden stand to cradle the globe. He carefully set it in the stand and told Mary to sit across from the crystal. He then pulled the shade over the window, darkening the room a little. Mary stared into the glass.

“Do not tell us what you are thinking, but think of a question you might wish to have answered. No, do not speak! Now, relax. Let your bones relax and your mind float, unfettered. Keep thinking of your question. We shall be silent. Do not move your eyes from the crystal. Quiet and soft, quiet and soft…” said Dr. Dee.