Deception (6 page)

I was just wondering how to answer, for I did not
really want to tell Mary the truth after Her Majesty had impressed upon me the need for secrecy, when Nicolas Bulmer slipped over and grazed his hand on the ice. Mary immediately rushed to bind up his wound with a kerchief, and I heaved a sigh of relief that I had not needed to reply. Mary is a good friend and keeps her counsel, but the fewer people who know what I am up to the better.

“Over there, my ladies,” said our servant suddenly, pointing at some mean cottages right on the riverside. “That's where Will Stubbs lived, God rest his soul!”

The cottage was a low, dilapidated place with a rough thatch. I could see a sow snuffling about in a sty, and chickens pecking round it. Our two escorts followed us up the path from the riverside.

“You have been most kind,” I said to them. “Will you skate while we carry out our errand?” It would be much easier to talk to the family with just Mary and me and no awkward young gentlemen cluttering the place up.

Sir John and Nicolas Bulmer looked relieved and scuttled back to the ice as fast as they could.

The door was answered by a thin, pale woman, who we took to be Will Stubbs's widow, Margaret. She looked astonished to see two Maids of Honour
at her house. I quickly introduced Mary and myself and explained the reason for our visit.

“Lord-a-mercy!” she gasped, bobbing a curtsy as she showed us into a small room that seemed to be full of children. “Children, make way for these ladies— they come from the Queen herself, and look at the fine things they have brought us. Robert,” she called to a boy of about my age, “get the jug of ale. Annie, bring those gingerbreads and almond tarts from the shelf. Jane, tell Uncle Harry about our guests.”

Mary Shelton and I sat down on a bench to sup our ale.

Mary started handing out the ribbon sweets to the children. Soon they were flocking round her and she was taken off to see the sow. Mary has many nieces and nephews and is always a favourite.

I glanced around. The cottage was very small and I could see almost all of it from where I sat. It was dark but clean, with fresh rushes on the floor, and the ale was of good quality. There was only one other room, and it looked as if the whole family slept in there. Rough straw pallets and truckle beds covered the floor.

Just then, we were joined by another woman and a dour, heavy-set man. I looked at his face and nearly let out a cry of surprise. For a moment I thought it
was Will Stubbs come back to life. The man took a glass of ale and stood in silence, staring hard at me.

“This is Harry, my husband's brother,” said Margaret.

That explained the likeness and, no doubt, why the man looked so mournful, I thought.

“And this is his wife, Susanna,” Margaret went on. “Harry's a boatman, like my Will, and they live here with us. Harry works so hard—all hours, he does, and—”

“Now, Meg,” said Harry, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Her ladyship don't want to be hearing all about me.”

There was an awkward silence. I picked up a piece of embroidery that was lying on the table by my elbow. It was a gentleman's ruff. The linen was fine and the stitching exquisite. Little ox-eye daisies were worked into the material all round. “This is lovely, Mrs. Stubbs,” I said. “Is it your own work?”

“Yes, my lady,” Margaret Stubbs replied eagerly. “I work as a seamstress and lacemaker, and of course it is lucky I have my craft as I must provide for the children now that my poor Will has gone.” She dabbed at her eyes. “It has so distressed us all—the manner of his death—when he was only trying to put an honest bit of food upon the table… .”

“Come, come, don't upset yourself, Margaret,” said Susanna.

Her words were kind, but I wished she'd let her sister-in-law continue—I might have heard something useful. But I was already beginning to doubt that Margaret Stubbs knew anything of the counterfeit coins. She seemed a simple, honest woman, and she was clearly genuinely baffled by the manner of her husband's death. If the coins on Will's eyes had been meant as a message to someone, it obviously wasn't a message to his widow. And yet Will Stubbs must have some connection to the coins. Perhaps he was involved in the counterfeiting, but I couldn't suggest this to his poor grieving family. “Who could have done such a thing to your husband?” I asked.

Before Margaret could answer, Harry spoke up. “We'll never know, my lady. We are Her Majesty's humble servants, and just wants to bury poor Will and let his spirit rest in peace.”

The children came bursting in at this point, with Mary Shelton in tow. They were chattering on about the sow and how she'd had ten piglets last spring and only trampled two, and how they hoped for more next year if a good boar could be found.

Although I had learned nothing of note, I saw that
little would be gained by prolonging our visit. I managed to tear Mary away from her new friends and we took our leave.

When we had strapped our skates back on and joined the young men on the ice, we heard the three-quarter hour tolled from at least seven churches in turn, followed by the big bell in Westminster Abbey. We were going to be late for prayers if we weren't quick! I grabbed Mary's hand and pulled her across the ice. She shrieked as we went—I think it was with delight. She had never been so fast on skates.

By heaven! Archbishop Parker himself is staring at me. I had better put down my penner. I do not wish to be accused of heresy!

I am in my bedchamber. Mary Shelton and I are dressed in our best gowns. Tonight the Queen is entertaining the French Ambassador, Monsieur Bertrand de Salignac de la Mothe-Fénelon—what a mouthful! I hope there are not too many speeches. Mon Dieu! If he rambles on in French I shall nod off altogether.

Mary and I have been ready this last half of an hour. I am wearing the rose velvet gown which the Queen gave me for my thirteenth birthday and I'm feeling very grand. As usual, Lady Sarah is not dressed yet. She is sitting in her petticoat and arguing with Olwen, our tiring woman. She has bought a stinky new potion for her pimples from a stall at the Frost Fair, and Olwen is full of dire warnings about noses dropping off and skin turning green.

I am taking no part in all this. It gives me time to write in my daybooke—and I have much to write.

When we came back from chapel I had very little stomach for luncheon. All I could think of was how to learn more of Will Stubbs's death. Also, I had eaten plenty of sweetmeats at his family's cottage.

Since I had learned all I could from my visit there—and that was very little—I resolved to follow a different path. It is time to find out more about how coins are made, as that might give me clues as to how someone could make false money.

I decided to talk to Sir Edward Latimer. Who better than the Warden of the Queen's Mint to tell me what I needed to know? But I had to be careful not
to tell him about the counterfeiting. It was going to be difficult to explain my sudden interest.

After luncheon the Queen bade us amuse ourselves as she had something dreary but important to discuss with Secretary Cecil. She didn't actually say that, but it was sure to be dreary—probably about the Scottish Queen.

We Maids of Honour sat by the fire in the Long Gallery. I thought it likely Sir Edward would come to Court this afternoon, to flirt with the Maids of Honour like the other young gentlemen, so I was keeping my eyes open for him.

“Let's sing some catches,” Penelope suggested. “I'll start.” And she began with “Hey-ho, Nobody at Home.” She has a pretty voice and we were all happy to join in when our parts came.

Then Lady Sarah stood up, looking rather pleased with herself. “I have made up a new song,” she announced. “I'll sing it and then you can all join in.”

When she was sure that everyone was looking at her, she began to sing to the tune of “Of All the Birds That Ever I See.”

I thought it was a clever song so I've written it down. Then I won't forget it—although I'm sure Lady Jane would like to!

Of all the maids that e-ver I see,
The Lady Jane Conings-by
Out up-on the ice did come,
But mostly ska-ted on her bum!

Poor Lady Jane. Everybody burst out laughing. She had to smile and take it in good part in front of the young gentlemen, but I could see from her eyes that she was seething.

However, she soon had her revenge.

“I have a ditty,” she announced with a false smile. She sang it to the tune of “Three Blind Mice” and looked hard at Lady Sarah as she did so, just in case we had any doubt as to the subject of the song!

“Three big spots, three big spots,
See how they grow, see how they grow,
They're spreading all over my lady's face,
She's running for potions all over the place,
Did ever you see such a—”

Mary Shelton, ever the peacemaker, quickly interrupted with a round of “Hold Thy Peace,” and we all joined in. Except for Lady Sarah and Lady Jane, who glared at each other. Then Lady Sarah flounced off to find someone to flirt with instead. I think she
had remembered that frowning made lines in her face.

Soon our mouths were parched from singing and we called for ale.

While we were drinking, Sir Edward appeared, sporting a fine brocade doublet with golden buttons. I seized the chance to talk with him.

I grabbed a beaker and offered it so quickly I nearly slopped ale down him. “Sir Edward,” I gabbled, “you look thirsty. We all know how hard you are working for Her Majesty at the mint.” I was most pleased with myself. I had got to the subject with my second sentence and no silly flirting or pretending to be a bear! I carried on. “I would love to know how coins are made. Pray enlighten me.”

Sir Edward looked surprised for a moment. I suppose he had not expected a Maid of Honour to talk of anything so sensible. Then he gave me a courtly bow. “I am greatly flattered that one of Her Majesty's own Maids of Honour should take an interest in my humble work,” he murmured to his knees. “I feel like a common sparrow who has been favoured by a bird of paradise.”

I tried not to groan. All I wanted to do was find out how a coin was minted. Was I going to have to put up with all this flowery language and stare at the
top of his head for ever? “Arise, Sir Edward,” I said briskly. “Now tell me, how do you get such beautiful designs onto the coins?”

“It is an involved matter, my lady,” he told me, “and it would be most dull were I to describe it to you.”

He must have seen my face fall, for then he gave me a gallant smile. “No, I have a much better idea,” he added. “On the morrow I myself will take you to the Tower and you can enter the Royal Mint—where men transform silver into bright, sparkling likenesses of Her Glorious Majesty!”

Excellent! Surely I would find out something at the mint itself. “I would like that very much, Sir Edward,” I replied.

“What would you like?” Lady Sarah interrupted. Sir Edward swept her a bow and told her his plan. “I would love to see the mint!” she gasped, with much fluttering of her eyelashes.

“So would I,” added Lady Jane, who had popped up behind her. “But dear Lady Sarah, surely you have no gown fit to wear for such an occasion.”

“And you surely have no interest in the new coins of the realm, dear Lady Jane,” spat Lady Sarah. “You have virtually told us so yourself!”

Sir Edward looked rather embarrassed—and quite
comical—standing between the two furious Maids of Honour and not knowing what to do. Luckily Carmina, Penelope, and Mary came over and demanded to join the party.

Sir Edward held up his hands in mock surrender. “Ladies,” he gushed, “it would give me the greatest of pleasure to escort you all to the Tower tomorrow and show you the splendours of the mint.”

And so now I cannot wait until tomorrow, even though I have to put up with the other Maids of Honour hovering round Sir Edward.

Praise be! Lady Sarah is at last attired in her finery and we are ready to go down to the feast.

THE TWENTY-FIFTH DAY OFNOVEMBER,
IN THE YEAR OF OUR LORD 1569