"Robert Dudley's squire."

I glanced up in time to catch the quick look Cecil cast in my direction. I couldn't tell whether he was displeased or amused.

The princess motioned. The guards shifted back. I stayed on one knee.

There are moments that define our existence, moments that, if we recognize them, become pivotal turning points in our life. Like pearls on a strand, the acc.u.mulation of such moments will in time become the essence of our life, providing solace when our end draws near.

For me, meeting Elizabeth Tudor was one of those moments.

The first thing I noticed was that she was not beautiful. Her chin was too narrow for the oval of her face, her long thin nose emphasizing the high curve of her cheeks and proud brow. Her mouth was disproportionately wide and her lips too thin, as if she savored secrets. And she was too pale and slim, like a fey creature of indeterminate s.e.x.

Then I met her stare. Her eyes were fathomless, overwide pupils limning her gold irises, like twin suns in eclipse. I had seen eyes like hers before, years ago, when a traveling menagerie entertained us at Dudley Castle. Then, too, I had been captured by their dormant power.

She had the eyes of a lion.

"Lord Robert's squire?" she said to Cecil. "How can it be? I've never seen him before."

"I'm new to court, Your Grace," I answered. "Your dog is foreign, is he not?"

She shot me a terse look; she'd not given me leave to speak. "He is Italian. You are familiar with the breed?"

"I had occasion to learn many things during my time in the Dudley stables."

"Is that so?" She tilted her head. "Hold out your hand."

I hesitated for a moment before warily extending my wrist. She loosened her grip on the chain. The hound thrust his muzzle at me. I almost recoiled as I felt his breath on my skin. He sniffed. To my relief, he licked my skin and retreated.

"You have a way with animals," Elizabeth said. "Urian rarely takes to strangers." She motioned me to my feet. "What is your name?"

"Brendan Prescott, Your Grace."

"You're a bold fellow, Brendan Prescott. State your purpose."

I suddenly realized I was trembling and recited in a voice that sounded far too rushed to my ears: "My lord asks that I convey his regret that he could not be here to receive Your Grace. He was called away on urgent business."

It was as far as I dared go. I had promised to deliver the ring in private and had the uncanny certainty that she would not like her a.s.sociation with Robert Dudley bandied about in public. As it stood, she was looking at me with an intensity that made me think of tales I'd heard of her late father, whom it was said had such a piercing stare, he could see through a man's skin to his veins and judge for himself how true the blood ran.

Then she arched her throat and released a gust of husky laughter. "Urgent business, you say? That much, I do not doubt. Lord Robert has a father to obey, does he not?"

I felt my smile emerge, lopsided. "He certainly does."

"Yes, and I know better than most how demanding fathers can be." With the laughter still on her lips, she handed Urian's chain to Cecil and motioned to me with long fingers. "Walk with me, squire. You've given me cause for amus.e.m.e.nt tonight, and it's a quality I value greatly." She cast a pointed look at those behind her. "Seeing how little of it I find around me these days."

Elation rushed from my head all the way to my feet. Master Shelton had warned me that trouble followed her wherever she went.

But in that moment, I did not care.

I moved after her into the palace, taking care not to overtake her. At the first opportunity, Mistress Ashley shouldered past me to the princess's side, muttering something inaudible. I heard Elizabeth reply, "No. I said I would walk with him, and walk I will. Alone."

Mistress Ashley retorted, "I forbid it. It will incite talk."

"I hardly think a simple walk can incite anything, Ash Kat," said Elizabeth dryly. "And you're far too short to forbid me anything anymore."

The matron glowered. Cecil interposed, "Mistress Ashley, the lad will do no harm."

"We'll see about that," said Mistress Ashley. "He serves the Dudleys, doesn't he?" With a glare at me, she reluctantly retreated.

I nodded gratefully at Cecil. He must have realized that I had been sent here by Robert and was trying to facilitate my first official duty, yet to my discomfiture, he avoided my gaze, slowing his pace to fall behind us. Equally discomfiting was the stranger in black named Walsingham, who moved with the soundless stealth of a cat, his long features a study in stony indifference.

I was surrounded by mistrustful strangers; I could almost feel their protectiveness toward the princess boring into my back. The only person whose face I had not yet seen was Elizabeth's other attendant, though I a.s.sumed she too must view my presence as unwelcome; as I thought this, I glanced over at her and caught a glimpse of bold brown eyes looking back at me from within her hood.

Elizabeth interrupted my thoughts. "I said walk with me, squire, not dawdle at my heels."

I hastened to her side. When she next spoke, her words were both rapid and hushed. "We've little time before we reach the hall. I would know the true reason for Robin's absence."

"Robin, Your Grace?" I said, drawing a momentary blank.

"Do you serve another Lord Robert, perchance?" She gave a terse laugh. "Urgent business, indeed; I'd have thought nothing save imprisonment would keep him away this night." Her mirth faded. "Where is he? He well knows how much I've risked by coming here."

"I..." My tongue felt like leather in my mouth. "I... I cannot say, Your Grace."

"Meaning you do not know." She turned into a gallery. I quickened my step.

"Meaning he didn't tell me. But he asked me to give you this." I reached to my doublet, forgetting in my haste to appease her that Robert had specified I deliver the ring in private.

Her hand shot out, gripping my wrist. Though her fingers were cold, her touch seared like flame. "G.o.d's teeth, you are new to court. Not here! What is it? Tell me."

"A ring, Your Grace, silver with an onyx stone. My master took it off his own finger."

She nearly came to a halt. Even in the dimly lit pa.s.sageway, I saw color flare in her white cheeks. For a second, the regal mask slipped, revealing the flush of a maiden who cannot hide her pleasure. I was so fl.u.s.tered by its revelation that I plunged on, reckless in my zeal to fulfill my orders.

"He said Your Grace would understand, and that he will soon arrange a time for you to meet alone, so he can have what he was promised."

Dead silence followed my words. To my dismay, her entire person stiffened. This time, she did come to a stop. She turned to me, regarding me as if from a height I could not possibly hope to scale. "You may tell your master that I understand perfectly. And as usual, he thinks far too much of himself-and far too little of me."

I froze. From ahead came m.u.f.fled music and voices, signaling our proximity to the hall.

"My lady," I finally said, "I'm afraid my lord was most insistent that you accept proof of his constancy."

"Insist!" she exclaimed, with mortifying shrillness. She paused, lowering her voice to a taut whisper. "I will not be compromised by your master or any other man. Tell Robert he goes too far. Too far, by G.o.d." She turned pointedly away from me, and Mistress Ashley hustled forth, shoving me aside so she could remove Elizabeth's cloak.

I was dismissed. As I stepped back, Elizabeth's other attendant moved past me, pulling back her own hood. I stared at her. She was lovely and young, her vivacious features complimented by a knowing gleam in her large eyes. She gave me a quick smile and I averted my gaze, stung by what I saw as her delight in my humiliation.

When I looked about, I noticed that Walsingham had slipped away. Cecil bowed before Elizabeth. "Master Walsingham asked me to offer his apologies; he had business to attend to. By your leave, I'll see Urian to his kennel." He kissed her extended hand, started to turn away.

"Cecil," she said, and he paused. "I must do this, for Edward. I cannot let them think that I'll cower in my house and wait for their summons."

He gave her a sad smile. "I know. I only hope you'll come to no harm because of it." He walked away, the hound at his side.

I watched Elizabeth turn toward the hall entrance. Her women flanked her; she suddenly looked small, vulnerable, even as she lifted her chin with regal poise to descend the steps. When she entered that crowded s.p.a.ce, the music in the gallery sputtered, tw.a.n.ging discordantly before it ceased. Silence fell, so profound I could hear her footsteps on the painted wood floor. I inched forward, slipping past the shadows by the doors, blending into the crowd to watch as the duke strode to her through bowing courtiers.

"My lord of Northumberland, this is an honor," said Elizabeth. She held out her hand. The duke bowed, his bearded lips lingering on her fingers even as his eyes lifted to hers.

"The honor is mine, Your Grace. I welcome you to court."

"Do you?" She smiled with dazzling candor. "I confess I'd begun to think you would deny me the pleasure of this court indefinitely. How long has it been since my sister Mary came to visit? Four months? Five? Yet not one invitation did you extend to me in all that time."

"Ah, you see I waited for an opportune time." The duke righted himself, standing a head taller than her. "As you are aware, His Majesty has been ill."

"Yes. I am aware. I trust Edward is on his way to a full recovery?"

"Indeed, and he has asked for you several times. Did you not get his letters?"

"I did, yes. I... I am relieved." I saw her soften; she even managed to toss her head with a touch of flirtatiousness as she set her hand on the duke's arm and allowed him to guide her into the hall. Amid the incandescent flames and sheen of mirrors, the colored satins, and extravagant jewels, as courtiers sank into obeisance like overdressed heaps, she stood out like alabaster. A chill slithered up my spine. It was as if I were seeing everything for the first time, my senses attuned to this forest of treachery and deceit, populated by well-fed predators who circled the princess much as wolves circle their prey.

I had to remind myself that my antiquated notions of chivalry, nurtured on childhood tales of knights of lore, were getting the best of me. Delicate in appearance as she may be, Elizabeth Tudor was not a helpless fawn. She'd been breathing this venomous air from the very hour of her birth. If anyone knew how to survive at court, it was she. Instead of worrying about her, I'd do better to focus on my own troubles. I had yet to deliver the ring, and Robert had made it clear what I could expect if I failed. I saw others like me in the hall, liveried shadows behind their masters, carrying goblet and napkin. Perhaps I too could become invisible, until I found the opportunity to approach her again.

I searched the crowd. Elizabeth drifted in and out of my vision, pausing to tap a shoulder here, offer a smile there. When she reached an enormous hearth near the dais, she paused. Sitting on upholstered chairs were persons of obvious importance. All rose to offer obeisance. I thought it must be difficult to command such deference, to know she'd always be set apart by rank and blood. And then I saw my chance.

Lurking at a sideboard not far from that n.o.ble company was Master Shelton.

Chapter Six.

I stepped into a surge of incoming courtiers, evading an onslaught of servitors carrying platters as I navigated toward a cl.u.s.ter of ladies in mammoth gowns, who blocked my way.

Someone hauled me by my sleeve.

"What are you doing here?" hissed Master Shelton. I smelled wine on his breath as he pulled me to the sideboard. He had a foul frown, the same one he wore when the household accounts failed to add up or he'd discovered one of the gamekeepers poaching Dudley livestock.

"Well?" he said. "Aren't you going to answer? Where is your master Lord Robert?"

I decided that the less I said, the better. "His lordship the duke sent him to the Tower on an errand. He asked me to meet him here." As I spoke, I was distracted by a shift in the ebb and flow of the crowd, through which I caught sight of the princess, standing by the chairs.

"Then you should have gone with him," said Shelton. "A squire must never be far from his master's side."

Elizabeth was talking to a diminutive girl seated in one of those grand chairs. The girl wore simple garb that resembled Elizabeth's, as did her copper-tinted hair and pale skin, only hers was freckled. Sprawled in a chair at her side, flushed from wine, was Guilford Dudley.

"Stop staring!" barked Master Shelton, but his face was set like mortar, his own eyes focused on Elizabeth, who smiled at something the girl was saying. He seemed to have trouble looking away, his big hand fumbling as he reached for his cup. As he quaffed its contents, I remembered that I had never seen him drink while on duty. But perhaps he wasn't on duty tonight. Perhaps Lady Dudley had given him the night to himself. Somehow, I doubted it. For as long as I had known him, Master Shelton had always been on duty.

"Who is that?" I asked, thinking I might as well draw him into conversation while I debated how best to deliver the ring hidden in my pocket.

He frowned. "Who else would it be? Are you blind? That's Lord Guilford, of course."

"I mean the lady sitting next to Lord Guilford."

He went silent. Then he muttered, "Lady Jane Grey," and I thought I heard a pained timbre in his voice. "She's the eldest daughter of Her Grace the d.u.c.h.ess of Suffolk."

"Suffolk?" I echoed, and he added impatiently, "Yes. Jane Grey's mother is the daughter of the late French queen, Mary, younger sister of our King Henry the Eighth. Jane is now betrothed to Lord Guilford." He took another sip of wine. "Not that it has any concern for you."

That tiny slip of a girl was the she-b.i.t.c.h who'd allegedly given Guilford sour ale? I found that amusing and was about to probe further when another figure caught my attention.

Elizabeth's other attendant had discarded her cloak somewhere and now moved confidently through the crowd, dressed in a tawny velvet gown that matched the umber in her hair, which tumbled, loose, under her crescent-shaped headdress. She was quite striking, a vivid contrast to the painted creatures around her, with natural radiance to her skin and easy grace to her movements. I thought she must be seeking out an admirer-a girl like her must have many-but then I saw that she seemed intent on avoiding the gallants who eyed her, sauntering instead past the immense white hearth and nearing the n.o.ble company. She must be returning to attend the princess, I started to think, but then I saw Elizabeth make a pointed turn, acting as though she did not recognize her own attendant.

I stared. I may not have been at court long but I knew theatrics when I saw them. It looked to me as if the girl was eavesdropping on her betters' conversation, and Elizabeth, her mistress, was fully aware of it. As if she sensed my scrutiny, the girl paused, looked up. Her gaze met mine. In her regard, I read defiance, arrogance-and definite challenge.

I smiled. Besides her evident attractions, she offered the perfect solution to my dilemma. She'd seen me speaking with Elizabeth; she may have even guessed that I sought to convey a private message, which, in different circ.u.mstances, Elizabeth might be inclined to accept. Surely so trusted a servant would be amenable to facilitating her mistress's desires?

All of a sudden, I felt the urgent need to act, get the errand done with. I wanted to deliver my part of the bargain, make my excuses, and go to bed. Whether or not I could retrace my steps to the Dudley chambers remained to be seen, but at least I could rest easy knowing I'd done as ordered. After a good night's sleep, I'd be in a better frame of mind to ascertain how best to navigate any future role I might have in Robert Dudley's schemes.

I continued to watch the girl for an appropriate time to approach, following her with my gaze as she turned to a group of pa.s.sing women. Before I knew what was happening, she'd blended into their midst. As they sauntered past, she cast a smile over her shoulder. It was an invitation only a fool would pa.s.s up.

Master Shelton chortled. "There's a comely wench. Why not see what she has to offer?" He gave me a pat on the back. "Go on. If Lord Robert comes looking for you, I'll tell him I sent you away, the hall being no place for a squire alone."

I was momentarily flummoxed. I might have been mistaken, but I had the distinct impression he wanted to get rid of me, which suited me fine. Forcing out a smile, I squared my shoulders and strolled off. When I looked back over my shoulder, I saw he had turned to the wine decanter behind him.

I trailed the girl at a distance, admiring her confident air and that l.u.s.trous hair rippling like a banner down her back. I wasn't inexperienced when it came to women, and I thought her far more enticing than any primped or powdered court lady. But I had so taken to her pursuit, I didn't pause to consider she might have another end in mind than facilitating our acquaintance.

She made an abrupt maneuver, and, like smoke, vanished into the crowd. I turned, searching, turned again, and came to a stop.

I couldn't believe it. I'd never seen anyone disappear thus. It was as if she'd taken flight.

Only then did I take stock of my surroundings and realize with a belated curse that she had, in fact, brought me around the hall to the other side. Now I stood closer than before to the royal dais, the company of n.o.bles, and the princess.

I sought to make myself small. Close up, they were an intimidating group: privileged and glossy, with the air of una.s.sailable primacy that characterized the n.o.bility. Elizabeth had left Jane Grey and sat, bemused, listening to the person opposite her. All I could see of this person was a gross, ringed hand clutching a cane.

I began to sidle backward, wary as a cat, praying the princess would not catch sight of me. All I needed was for her to single me out and cast the remainder of my already doubtful future into ruin.

So intent was I on my retreat that I almost failed to see the person bearing down upon me. When I did, I froze in my tracks.

It was Lady Dudley, d.u.c.h.ess of Northumberland.

The sight of her was like cold water flung in my face. Lady Dudley, Lord Robert's mother. Could it get any worse? Of all the people I might have come across, why her? In her world, lackeys always knew their proper place. And mine was certainly not lurking in this hall.

She was like marble, her austere beauty enhanced by an exquisite garnet velvet gown. As I stood there, paralyzed to my spot, I was plunged back to a day, years ago, when she'd come upon me smuggling a book out of the Dudley Castle library.

I'd turned thirteen and was grief-stricken over the sudden loss of Mistress Alice. The book was one of French psalms, a favorite of Alice's, bound in calfskin, with a French dedication on its frontispiece: A mon amie de votre amie, Marie. A mon amie de votre amie, Marie.

Lady Dudley had taken it from my hands, told me to remove myself to the stables. An hour later, Master Shelton arrived with a whip. He had been in the Dudley service less than a year; he scarcely knew me and thus delivered the punishing strokes uncertainly, causing more humiliation than pain. But until Lady Dudley departed for court, I never went near the library again. Even after she left, it took weeks before the books lured me back, and I only went at night, returning each book to its shelf the moment I was done with it, as if she might somehow spy my transgression from afar.

As for the volume of psalms, it was the only thing that didn't belong to me that I'd taken when I left the castle. I wrapped it in cloth and hid it in my saddlebag. I could not leave it behind.