The Virgin Queen's Daughter - Ella March Chase (2 page)

A guard whose face was ruddy as his livery glanced at the de Lacey lions baring their teeth on the banners rippling above us. He hastened toward us, saying that the Lieutenant bade him watch for visitors from Calverley. We were to be escorted to Sir John at once. The two men visited each other every five years to talk of pranks and theories and people I had yet to meet. Father had told me Sir John was forever laughing and could solve more riddles than any man he’d ever known. Yet when we entered the house close to the fortress’s thick wall, the man who embraced my father looked as if he had never smiled at all.

“My dear friend, have you been ill?” Father’s shock was evident in his voice. Mother grasped my hand and pulled me away from them. She was fearful of contagion where I was concerned, and had been wary of bringing me to London. Everyone knew the crowded city was a breeding ground for fevers of every kind.

“You need not fear for your child’s safety, Lady Calverley,” Sir John soothed, as if he sensed her fears. “My sickness is of a most singular kind. I am only sore at heart.”

“I am sorry for it.” My mother relaxed her grip on my hand.

“Your visit will cheer me. My wife is depending upon it. We will reminisce about happier times while I become acquainted with this remarkable daughter my friend has written about so often.”

Father chuckled and laid a hand on my shoulder. “I think you will find I have been modest in my estimations. She could best many scholars twice her age.” Pride made my chest feel tight. I dreaded the possibility of failing him. “Make your curtsey to the Lieutenant, Nell.”

I executed my curtsey passably enough. “Good morrow, Sir John.”

“Good morrow, Mistress Nell. You are most welcome after your long journey. What do you most wish to see here in the city? We have shops full of pretty trinkets.”

“It is books I want. Father says there are more in London than I could ever read.”

I saw the Lieutenant flinch, and I feared I had offended him. But he looked into my eyes with a mournful gaze. “I knew a girl who loved books above all things.”

“May we find that book-loving girl?” I asked. “I should like her very much.”

“The Lieutenant is an important man,” my mother chided. “He cannot be chasing after children.”

“But he said there is a girl—”

“
Was
a girl,” Mother quelled me. “
Was,
Nell.”

“It is all right, my lady,” the Lieutenant told her. He hunkered down the way Father sometimes did so he could look into my eyes. “The girl I knew gave me something precious.” He reached inside his doublet and withdrew a small volume. I opened it.

“It is a prayer book,” I said, unable to hide my disappointment.

Sir John ran his thumb over the velvet binding. “Can you read the name written within?” It was squeezed at the bottom of the page, the words penned in by hand.

“Lady Jane Dudley.”

“Most still remember her as Lady Jane Grey.”

I sobered. Lady Jane—no matter what surname one called her—was quite dead. “No wonder you are sad,” I said.

“You would have liked her. She was very brave and good. However, she was not as fortunate in her parents as you are, Mistress Nell.”

On impulse, I kissed him on the cheek to chase the sadness away. Sir John’s eyes brimmed over with tears. Appalled, I shrank back against Father’s legs, expecting a reprimand for being so forward. But both Father and Mother smiled at me as Sir John swiped at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Enough gloom, little Nell,” Sir John said. “You did not travel all this way to listen to my grim musings. Perhaps while the servants help your parents settle into their lodgings you and I could walk over to the menagerie?”

“I would like that, sir. Very much. If my lady mother does not mind.”

He turned to my mother. “You will indulge me in this, will you not, my lady?”

“But your duties—”

“I have had a belly full of duty. God forgive me what I’ve done in its name.”

Soon we were back in the bustling courtyard of the mightiest fortress in England. My neck ached from peering up at the towering walls. Guards paced along parapets, their halberds glittering in the sun. Thrice, Sir John had to keep me from bumping into one of the numerous workers who kept the fortress running. Once I nearly trod upon one of the ravens the Tower was famous for. In an explosion of squawking and feathers, the great black bird flew into the sky visible above the golden walls.

I wrinkled my nose as we entered a building filled with strange smells and echoes. “Do you have a dragon from the Ethiops here, Sir John?” I regarded the intriguing shapes within. “I am very fond of dragons.”

“I am afraid not. But we have a bear that ate a very naughty boy once.”

I peered down into the nearest pit, anxious to see this bear. Two lions paced instead, their manes far more scraggly than the stone ones on our gatehouse back home. I chattered with delight, feeling myself the luckiest girl in England when a keeper let me fling a moldy haunch of mutton to wildcats with yellow eyes that glared right through me.

“Do you get to feed the animals whenever you wish if you are the Lieutenant of the Tower?” I asked.

“I do. And all of the soldiers here are under my command. During the rebellion I shot cannons at Wyatt’s traitors to help save the queen.”

I was not sure if that was a good thing or a bad one. But before I could ask him, Sir John grew grim. “I have other duties not so pleasant. I must accompany prisoners to trial, and those condemned to the block.” Sir John stopped beside another pit. I looked in and saw the bear.

“This is the hungry fellow I was telling you about,” he said.

“He does not look
very
dreadful.” The animal lay on his back, licking his paw.

“May I offer you a bit of wisdom to remember about wild things? Just because you cannot see teeth doesn’t mean they won’t bite.”

N
OT UNTIL THREE
days later did I peer out of the window in the Lieutenant’s lodgings to see the most compelling creature held captive behind the Tower walls: The fair young princess out walking in the Lieutenant’s tiny walled garden. She wore a black dress with barely any embroidery. But her hair rippled down her back like a banner of defiance.

“Eppie!” I grabbed my nurse’s hand. “Come and look! It is the princess!”

“A real princess? That is a sight I have never seen in all my life!” Eppie laughed, good-natured as ever while I led her to the diamond panes. But the instant she saw the lady in the garden, Eppie shrank from the window as if the guard had fired a crossbow bolt at us. “Come away from there, Nell!”

I pressed my face against the glass to get a better look. “The princess’s head seems fastened on tight—”

“I told you to get away from that window!” Eppie snatched me back, squeezing my shoulder until it ached. “I do not want to catch you near that window again!”

From that moment shadows came to live in Eppie’s eyes.

At night, in the bed we shared, my nurse tossed and groaned as if the hobgoblin had stowed away in my traveling chest and was poking her through the featherbed with his claws. She began numbering the days until we should return to Calverley Manor. As for me, I could not endure being forbidden something for no logical reason, and I could not forget Elizabeth locked behind walls, nor my father saying someone should set the captive princess free. Unlocking doors and gates was simple, after all. One only had to find the key.

Chapter Two

Two Weeks Later

U
NEASY AS EPPIE SEEMED, MOTHER WOULD NOT HEAR
of my nurse and me staying behind in the Tower when there were such fine wares to be pored over in the London streets. The weeks of our visit flew past in a whirl of more shops than I had ever imagined. Jewelers at Cheapside, where Mother let me choose a ring whose tiny cameo face winked as if we shared a secret. Drapers on Lombard Street, their ready-made clothes displaying the latest fashions. Mother swathed me in every color fabric in the world and Eppie insisted on buying me a gable headdress with a velvet bag to hide my hair. As we continued down the street I thought Eppie’s words strange and asked what my hair should hide
from.
Eppie would not meet my eyes. She said she meant the velvet would protect my curls from city dust. Already my attention was wandering.

Spices from the pepperers in Bucklesberrie made me sneeze and then Father took us to see London’s sights. I gaped, awestruck, at St. Paul’s Cathedral and marveled at Whitehall Palace, with a city street running through its center—carts and horses, peddlers and apprentices jostling beneath the queen’s very nose. But most delightful of all was the Thursday Father carried me to the house where the wizard John Dee awaited us. Mother and Eppie went off to the apothecary to refill Mother’s medicine chest with the herbs and physics people at Calverley would need, so this was a day I had Father to myself.

At first glance Dr. Dee’s house seemed cobbled together like the buildings father sometimes helped me make out of playing cards. Bright new wattle and daub sections leaned so precariously against the older part of the house that it seemed as if only a sorcerer’s spell could keep it standing.

The wizard who lived within was small and spare beneath flowing black robes. Dr. John Dee’s restless hands appeared to pluck magic out of air as he ushered us into rooms filled with scientific instruments much more elaborate than those Father had back home. While Father and Dr. Dee talked quietly in the far corner, I wandered about, surveying all the wonders. A pair of spheres painted in different colors fascinated me, one decorated with blobs, another with white dots and colored circles of varying sizes. Father explained they were made by the great scientist Mercator, one globe mapping the earth and the other charting the heavens. I might have remained transfixed for hours, picking out constellations Father had shown me or attempting to puzzle out how England—the greatest country in the world—could appear so small compared with the sprawling shape that was Europe, where Spain lived. Yet suddenly, amidst the clutter of ink-stained pages and vials of things like mermaid’s teeth, I saw something that made my mouth fall open in wonder. A book lay open on a table, revealing a serpentine creature spreading its painted wingspan over two pages, spewing bright-colored flames from its mouth. I scrambled over to it, but Father scooped me up into his arms.

“Hey, ho, Little Bird! Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

“I think I know,” Dr. Dee said with a kind smile. “Did you see my book of dragons, Mistress Nell? Books like this were looted from the libraries of monasteries all over England when Henry VIII was king. I thought it would be a shame to let so much knowledge be destroyed. But in my zeal, I collected two dragon books. Identical. Perhaps you could help me conceal my folly? Would you do me the very great favor of taking this book with you to Calverley?”

“Truly?” I hardly believed my good fortune.

“Really, John.” Father objected. “It is too generous. Allow me to purchase it!”

“I won’t hear of it, old friend. Mistress Nell will be doing me a service. Hiding my absentmindedness from scholars who already think me half mad. Make these dragons disappear and no one need ever know I have added such a valuable object to my pile of mistakes.” He waved at the cluttered table. “Bottles I forgot to label, crushed baskets and coffers beyond repairing. I wish I could make everything on that table vanish.”

“I will help you, sir,” I breathed. But it was not the dragon book that made my heart pound this time. It was another object all but lost among the mistakes Dee wished to discard: a small iron key. I waited until Father and Dr. Dee turned away to retrieve a manuscript from a locked coffer. They bent over it, engrossed, so neither noticed me close trembling fingers over the key. I could feel its magic, heavy in my hand. I knew exactly which prison this key was destined to open.

That night as I tried to sleep on the lump of key hid beneath the feather mattress, I heard Arabella complain we only had one week left in the city. Surely, I reasoned, that would be time enough to sneak my prize into the princess’s hands? But by morning rain settled in, stubborn as I was. Four days slipped past and the strain nearly shattered my nerves. I had not caught so much as a glimpse of my princess and time was running out.

On the fifth day the sun beamed down and I knew I must seize my chance. Easy enough, with Father gone off to study stars with Dr. Dee and Eppie even more distracted than Arabella, who had struck up a flirtation with a handsome guard. Everyone in Calverley’s party was trying to gorge themselves on the sweet stuff the city offered before returning to quiet Lincolnshire. Mother and Eppie talked themselves hoarse with the other ladies in the Lieutenant’s solar, but even the most scandalous gossip the private sitting room could hold did not tempt me from my post at the window seat near the chamber door. I curled up with the book Dr. Dee had given me, the volume so thick that everyone thought I would be reading as long as the sunlight held. But for once I could not keep my mind on the glorious words. Instead, I watched the walled garden, waiting for my chance. Narrow gravel paths cut sharp corners around beds edged with lavender, a discouraged willow bending over the sundial that marked the slow march of prisoners’ time. Smudges of color too wan to be flowers scraped with green tendrils against the walls as if trying to reach the watery bar of light that managed to ooze over the stone barrier. At last the afternoon warmed and I glimpsed the familiar red hair. I set aside my book and stole from the chamber.

Only a scullery maid hauling coppers of water passed me as I crept to the bedchamber, and she was too burdened by her own tasks to notice me. I slipped out of the Lieutenant’s lodgings and into the bustle of humanity within the fortress. Never in the weeks I had been at the Tower had I left the Lieutenant’s house alone. Excitement filled me at such freedom. A crisp breeze pinched my cheeks as I darted past yeomen guards in crimson livery, their pikes gleaming sharp in the sun. A baker carried a board piled with coarse bread, and cursed me as I ducked beneath the smoke-blackened plank.

I reached the gate that held my princess prisoner. My new headdress felt heavy as I arched my neck back to see how high the barrier towered above me. I knew I could scale it if I dared. Did I? I scrambled up and over the gate before I could change my mind. Slippers scrabbled for purchase on the stone wall, and then I dropped to the ground inside the garden. My heart tripped when the yeoman on guard glanced my way. I was sure he would smell the stink of guilt on me, but he merely turned back to contemplate the musk roses climbing the wall. I peeped from my hiding place, willing the princess to turn my way. As she rounded my boxwood hedge, she appeared conjured by magic, and in that moment, I think, I lost a piece of my heart forever.

The princess nearly stepped on my velvet shoes. “You scared me half to death!” she cried. “How is it that you have come to visit me, little lady?” The princess smiled. “Are you a ghost? Or fairy who stole away from her revels?”

“No. I am a girl,” I said, very solemn.

“What is your name?”

“Nell.” My hand slicked with sweat where it clung to the contraband I carried.

“I am most happy to make your acquaintance, Nell.” The princess curtseyed to me as if I were grown up. “Do you know who I am?” she asked.

“You are the princess they lock in the Bell Tower.”

“No. I am only the Lady Elizabeth. Or so my enemies would have me called.”

“Then they are blockheads.” I was looking at her neck.

She laughed. “What are you staring at, Nell?”

“Your head, Your Grace. I am worried in case it should fall off.”

Elizabeth paled. Her long fingers fluttered to her throat. “They took down Lady Jane’s scaffold. I am sure—”

“They did!” I assured quickly. “My mother said your head was loose on your shoulders. I was trying to figure out how that might be.”

Elizabeth seemed to gather herself up. “I hope to keep my head yet.”

“That is why I am here. To help you. I brought you this.” I drew my treasure from its hiding place. Elizabeth’s gaze leapt from the key to the guard. “Who put you up to such dangerous mischief?” she demanded sharply.

Shaken, I fell back a step. “I did it on my own. I brought you a key so you could open the doors and go abroad.”

The sharpness in her face melted. “Where did you get that?”

“It was easy to find once I set my mind to it. Father says I have eyes sharp as a little bird’s.” I hesitated. “It is a magic key.”

“Is that so? Who is your father?”

“He is the wisest man in all of England. He can read Greek and Latin and speak oh, so many languages, and he is teaching them to me.” Princess Elizabeth smiled, asking me in Latin if I had read Homer’s famous works. In Latin, I told her I was on my very first odyssey to London, though I had not yet heard the siren Circe’s bewitching song. But perhaps I had. I stared, transfixed, into Elizabeth Tudor’s face.

“That was prettily done,” she said in English. “Your father has taught you well.”

“He can chart every star in the sky. He is the finest father ever born.” Pity welled up. “Your father is King Henry, who cut off your mother’s head.” The princess’s lips tightened. I knew I had blundered again. “I am sorry,” I said, passionate with regret.

She knelt down so she could look me in the eye. She took the key gently from my hand. “This is a marvelous gift. I will not forget it.”

The guard was now striding toward us. He seemed a veritable Goliath, his halberd in one hand, his brows knit in a formidable frown. Elizabeth stepped between me and the imposing man, and I thought of the rack, and all of us being taken up for treason because of me, just like mother had feared. But I had not told any of the secrets Father had warned me against. Not a single one.

“How did you get in here, wench?” the guard demanded of me.

I tried to master the tremor of fear in my voice. “I climbed.”

The guard turned toward Elizabeth, looking sore uneasy. “Your Grace, may I see what is in your hand?”

“A key,” the princess said. “Nell gave it to me so I could go abroad.” The guard made a sound like he had swallowed his tongue. “You need not fear, good sergeant. It opens a coffer somewhere, I would wager. Not my cell.”

“It does not matter what this key opens,” the sergeant blustered, his face red as his cap. “This is a serious offense.”

“No, it is not,” the princess said. “It is nothing more than a child’s generous fancy. Can we not let this pass? She meant no harm.”

She held the key out to him.

“No!” I cried as the key disappeared into the guard’s hand. I flung myself at him. “You shall not take it from her!” But the key was gone. My mother’s call from the courtyard barely penetrated my shrieks.

“Someone is seeking the child.” The princess caught hold of my arms to pull me off the guard. “Go open the gate and I will do what I can to calm her.”

The guard bowed and left us, halberd in hand.

From a distance I could hear his summons, the clatter of iron, my mother’s voice sharp with alarm. “Elinor de Lacey! However did you get in here?” It was the voice that usually made her get the switch. I wheeled, and saw mother racing through the gate the guard had opened, her blue skirts flying. “Shame on you for running off!”

Mother stumbled to a halt as the princess scooped me up. I clung to the princess and buried my face in her red-gold hair. When I dared peep between the strands, my mother was staring at the two of us, so silent it shook the foundation of my world. Lady Thomasin de Lacey, Baroness Calverley,
always
had something to say.

“Lady Calverley, it has been years since I saw you last,” the princess said. “I had heard of your arrival here. Of course, I did not expect you to visit me.”

My mother knew this princess?

“Your Grace.” Mother curtseyed stiffly, her damask petticoats making a puddle on the garden path. I could tell she wanted to grab me out of the princess’s arms. But even my mother did not dare take such a liberty. “I am most sorry for your trouble.”

“You have seen me in trouble before.”

“Please forgive my daughter for importuning you so.” Mother fiddled with the pomander dangling from her gold girdle. The herbs inside the filigreed ball were supposed to ward off fevers. “Nell is a willful child, your Grace. Given to strange fancies.”

“Nell is your daughter?” The princess’s brow furrowed. “You are to be congratulated. Nell is a remarkable child. Her Latin is flawless.”

“It amuses my lord husband to teach her.”

“Father says I am like a hungry bird, gobbling up books as if they were worms.”

Elizabeth Tudor plucked a rose leaf from my headdress. “I, too, love learning. You are very fortunate, Nell, to have someone feed your mind so. Perhaps if you study hard and become an accomplished young woman, you could come to court someday.”

“We prefer life in the country,” my mother said.

“Perhaps Nell will not,” the princess responded smoothly, returning her attention to me. “You would make a fine lady-in-waiting, just like your mother did serving my stepmother, the dowager queen.”

Mother’s jaw clamped tight. “Your Grace, Nell’s nurse is also searching, and I have never seen the woman so distraught. She heard a bear in the menagerie once ate a child, and was sure Nell suffered a similar fate.”

The princess surrendered me to my mother, but her long, elegant fingers lingered on my cheek. “It would be a terrible thing to misplace such a treasure, Lady Calverley. I remember that you once despaired of being thus blessed. At least you have lived to enjoy your daughter. I wish my stepmother had been so fortunate.”