C. W. Gortner - The Tudor Secret

For Linda, best friend

Contents

1602

Everyone has a secret.

Like the oyster with its grain of sand, we bury it deep within, coating it with opalescent layers, as if that could heal our mortal wound. Some of us devote our entire lives to keeping our secret hidden, safe from those who might pry it from us, hoarding it like the pearl, only to discover that it escapes us when we least expect it, revealed by a flash of fear in our eyes when caught unawares, by a sudden pain, a rage or hatred, or an all-consuming shame.

I know all about secrets. Secrets upon secrets, wielded like weapons, like tethers, like bedside endearments. The truth alone can never suffice. Secrets are the coin of our world, the currency upon which we construct our edifice of grandeur and lies. We need our secrets to serve as iron for our shields, brocade for our bodies, and veils for our fears: They delude and comfort, shielding us always from the fact that in the end we, too, must die.

* * *

Write it all down, she tells me, every last word.

We often sit like this in the winter of our lives, chronic insomniacs in outdated finery, the chessboard or the game of cards neglected on the table, as her eyesalert and ever-wary after all these years, still leonine in a face grown gaunt with ageturn inward to that place where none has ever trespassed, to her own secret, which I now know, have perhaps always known, she must take with her to her grave.

Write it down, she says, so that when I am gone, you will remember.

As if I could ever forget

WHITEHALL, 1553

Chapter One

Like everything important in life, it began with a journeythe road to London, to be exact, my first excursion to that most fascinating and sordid of cities.

We started out before daybreak, two men on horseback. I had never been farther than Worcestershire, which made Master Sheltons arrival with my summons all the more unexpected. I scarcely had time to pack my few belongings and bid farewell to the servants (including sweet Annabel, whod wept as if her heart might break) before I was riding from Dudley Castle, where Id spent my entire life, unsure of when, or if, I would return again.

My excitement and apprehension should have been enough to keep me awake. Yet I soon found myself nodding off to sleep, lulled by the monotony of the passing countryside and my roan Cinnabars comfortable amble.

Master Shelton startled me awake. Brendan, lad, wake up. Were almost there.

I sat up in my saddle. Blinking away my catnap, I reached up to straighten my cap and found only my unruly thatch of light auburn hair. When he first arrived to fetch me, Master Shelton had frowned at its length, grumbling that Englishmen shouldnt go about unshorn like the French. He wouldnt be pleased by the loss of my cap, either.

Oh, no. I looked at him.

He regarded me impassively. A puckered scar ran across his left cheek, marring his rugged features. Not that it mattered. Archie Shelton had never been a handsome man. Still, he had impressive stature and sat his steed with authority; his cloak, emblazoned with the ragged bear and staff, denoted his rank as the Dudley family steward. To anyone else, his granite stare would have inspired trepidation. But I had grown accustomed to his taciturn manner, as he had been overseeing my upkeep since his arrival in the Dudley household eight years ago.

It fell off about a league back. He extended my cap to me. Since my days in the Scottish wars, Ive never seen anyone sleep so soundly on horseback. Youd think youd been to London a hundred times before.

I heard rough mirth in his rebuke. It confirmed my suspicion that he was secretly pleased by this precipitous change in my fortune, though it wasnt in his nature to discuss his personal sentiments regarding anything the duke or Lady Dudley commanded.

You cant go losing your cap about court, he said as I clapped the red cloth hat back on my head and peered toward where the sun-dappled road climbed over a hill. A squire must be attentive at all times to his appearance. He eyed me. My lord and lady expect much of their servants. I trust you can remember how to behave with your betters.

Of course. I squared my shoulders, reciting in my most obsequious tone: Its best to remain silent whenever possible and to always keep your eyes lowered when spoken to. If uncertain as to how to address someone, a simple my lord or my lady will suffice. I paused. See? I havent forgotten.

Master Shelton snorted. See that you dont. Youre to be a squire to his lordships son, Lord Robert, and Ill not see you squander the opportunity. If you excel in this post, who knows? You could rise to chamberlain or even steward. The Dudleys are known to reward those who serve them well.

As soon he uttered these words, I thought I should have known.

When Lady Dudley joined her family year-round at court, she had sent Master Shelton twice a year to the castle where I remained with a small staff. He came ostensibly to oversee our upkeep, but whereas before my duties had been confined to the stables, he assigned me other household chores and paid me, for the first time, a modest sum. He even took in a local monk to tutor meone of thousands who begged and bartered their way through England since old King Henry had abolished the monasteries. The staff at Dudley Castle had deemed her ladyships steward unnatural, a cold and solitary man, unmarried and with no children of his own; but he had shown me unexpected kindness.

Now I knew why.

He wanted me to be his successor, once old age or infirmity demanded his retirement. It was hardly the role I aspired to, filled as it was with the tiresome domestic obligations that Lady Dudley had neither time nor inclination for. Though it was a far better future than someone in my shoes ought to expect, I thought that Id rather remain a stable hand than become a privileged lackey dependent on Dudley sufferance. Horses, at least, I understood, whilst the duke and his wife were strangers to me, in every sense of the word.

Still, I mustnt appear ungrateful. I bowed my head and murmured, I would be honored if I were one day deemed worthy of such a post.

A cragged smile, all the more startling because of its rarity, lightened Master Sheltons face. Would you now? I thought as much. Well, then, we shall have to see, shant we?

I smiled in return. Serving as squire to Lord Robert would prove challenge enough without my worrying over a potential stewardship in the future. Though Id not seen the dukes third-eldest son in years, he and I were close in age and had lived together during our childhood.

In truth, Robert Dudley had been my bane. Even as a boy, hed been the most handsome and talented of the Dudley brood, favored in everything he undertook, be it archery, music, or dance. He also nursed an inflated sense of pride in his own superioritya bully who delighted in leading his brothers in rousing games of thrash-the-foundling.

No matter how hard I tried to hide or how fiercely I struggled when caught, Robert always managed to hunt me down. He directed his walloping gang of brothers to duck me into the scum-coated moat or dangle me over the courtyard well, until my shouts turned to sobs and my beloved Mistress Alice rushed out to rescue me. I spent the majority of my time scrambling up trees or hiding, terrified, in attics. Then Robert was sent to court to serve as a page to the young Prince Edward. Once his brothers were likewise dispatched to similar posts, I discovered a newfound and immensely welcome freedom from their tyranny.

I could hardly believe I was now on my way to serve Robert, at his mothers command, no less. But of course, noble families did not foster unfortunates like me for charitys sake. I had always known a day would come when Id be called upon to pay my debt.