The Tudor Conspiracy - Gortner Christopher W. (книги онлайн без регистрации полностью .txt) 📗

Her voice came at me from the shadows. “You dare show yourself to me?”

“Majesty.” I dropped to one knee. A figure in the corner by the desk drew upright from its crouch. Laughter, brief and harsh, came at me. “Rather late for humility, is it not?”

I looked up. Mary Tudor’s hair was unraveled about her face, its sandy white strands coiling to her shoulders. She wore the same purple gown I’d seen her in when she saw Elizabeth off to Ashridge, but it was crumpled now, misshapen somehow, as if she’d torn at it; the bodice gaped at her breast, revealing collarbones incised under her skin. Her fingers were bare; she appeared to have something coiled in one hand, but it was her face-her stark, hollowed face, in which her eyes burned like embers-that riveted me.

I could not look away. I could barely draw a breath.

She had also crossed a threshold, but whereas my passage would in time bring me to acceptance, for her there was only heartache and fear ahead.

“Majesty,” I began, “I came to you because I know that you-”

“No.” She flung up her hand. “I will not hear it. You always bring disaster.”

Had Rochester failed to show her the leaf? I started to reach to my cloak, to remove Elizabeth’s letter, when she opened her palm and revealed what she held-my ruby-tipped gold leaf, hanging from its chain.

“Where did you get this?” Her eyes bore into me. “How can you have it?”

The room swayed. For an instant, I saw and heard nothing. Then I said in a quiet voice, “It belonged to my mother.”

“You have the effrontery to call a princess of my blood your mother?”

I felt as if I fled outside myself, watching from a safe distance as the world collapsed.

“Why would I lie?” I asked, and she moved so quickly, I did not have time to react. Her hand whipped out, striking me. The leaf cut into my cheek; I felt it draw blood.

“Who are you?”

Her rage spread a dark pool around us. I half-expected Lady Clarencieux to come rushing in, but as the hush returned, fraught with splintered echoes, I said, “I want you to know the truth. Your aunt Mary of Suffolk, sister of your father, King Henry-she gave birth to me. She had a gold artichoke, a gift from the French king upon her marriage to your father’s friend, Brandon. Before her death, she ordered that artichoke broken apart, its leaves given to four women. You were one. You have a leaf just like it.”

I could hear her breath coming in stifled pants through her teeth.

“The Suffolk steward who brought it to you,” I went on, “later took up service in the Dudley household.” I paused. “He did it for me. His name was Archie Shelton. He watched over me. He tried to keep the secret of my birth hidden, but he failed. Finally, during Northumberland’s bid to steal your throne, I discovered it.”

“Your secret?” Mary’s voice trembled. “You come to me with this-this monstrous fabrication, this monumental lie, after what you’ve done? You don’t want me to know the truth. You seek only to save my sister, whom you’ve protected all this time.”

“Yes.” I did not take my eyes from her. “But I never ceased to protect you as well. Trust this, even if you believe nothing else. I would never betray my own blood.”

Her jaw clenched, the struggle against some terrible emotion distorting her features. I had the premonition it wouldn’t be long before she lost her struggle, before the demon Renard had cultivated and unleashed, which had driven her to take Jane Grey and Guilford Dudley’s lives, consumed her.

“What else?” she asked. “Best tell me now before I decide your fate.”

“That is all I know, except that I … I do not believe I am legitimate. I think that is the reason my mother ordered me hidden away.” My voice fractured as I fought against a dread I’d never admitted aloud. “I must have been a shame to her.”

“In other words, you are a bastard.” Her face set like stone. “Does Elizabeth know?”

“No. But she gave me refuge when I had nowhere else to turn.”

She lifted her chin. “If she so cares for you, why did you not tell her?”

“I only have that jewel. Your Majesty has the other one. I saw no reason.”

“Oh? Surely you must be aware that some claim Elizabeth is a bastard as well, yet she is considered my heir. Who’s to say you’d not be granted the same, if you chose it?”

I had made a grave mistake. It would cost me my life. I should never have told her. By breaking my own vow, I had unleashed the unthinkable.

“I swear to you on my life,” I said, “I only tell you this now because your sister’s life is at stake. She, too, shares our blood. I thought that if I revealed my true self to you, you would see I have no desire other than to serve my queen and my princess.”

“No desire?” she retorted. “Or no proof?”

Even as my breath froze in my lungs, the intransigence in her expression faded. All of a sudden, she became the woman I had first met, the valiant queen who had not let years of bitter antagonism destroy her. Somewhere in her heart, she understood. Like me, she knew what it meant to doubt who she was.

She twined the chain of my leaf around her fingers. “This means nothing. It’s a fragment of a forgotten past, which you could have stolen to support your preposterous story.” She paused. “But should you ever choose to act differently, you should know that I will not tolerate it. I will see you dead.” She thrust the leaf into her skirt pocket and extended her hand. “Now, give me this letter Rochester told me you bring.”

I reached into my doublet. She took the paper and turned to the desk.

I remained on my knee.

Unfolding the paper, she read in silence. She stood without moving for a long moment, holding the letter limply, before she let it drift from her hand to the floor. “Is it true?” she asked. “Does she revere me above all else? Or is she as much of a deceiver as you?” She looked over her shoulder at me. “I suspect not even you can say. After all, she’s had far more experience.”

“Majesty, she is innocent. I came to court to help her, yes, but I also investigated the conspiracy as ordered. And there is more you must know, about Don Renard and-”

She lifted her hand again, cutting me off. “Renard has told me already. I know all about Mistress Darrier and her scheme. Even if he hadn’t, I’ve had spies in my household since I was old enough to walk. I knew what kind of woman she was. I’m glad she paid the price for her treachery.” Her smile was cold. “The Duke of Feria may now wed my Jane Dormer, as I first planned. And lest you doubt, I do intend to show clemency to my allegedly loyal sister. Enough blood has been shed-for the moment.”

I exhaled. I was on the brink of allowing myself to believe I had succeeded when she said, “But she still goes to the Tower tomorrow. Evidently she cannot be left to her own devices. At least in the Tower, she’ll be safe from these malcontents who foment rebellion in her name. Once my husband, Prince Philip, arrives, together he and I will decide what is to be done with her. I will follow his advice.”

His advice …

I already knew what Prince Philip would say; unlike her, I knew exactly what he desired. Even so, I could venture no further. She would not kill Elizabeth. For now, it had to be enough. “Your Majesty is most merciful,” I said, bowing my head.

“Yes,” she replied, “so they say. Any other would have taken her head by now, but I must answer to God. I will not soil my hands with her blood without cause. As for you, while your tale is remarkable, I do not believe it. No princess would bear a bastard. You are mistaken; you have been misguided by others. Still, I spare your life because of past services, which, as you claim, you performed of your own free will. But you are henceforth banished from this court. I never want to see or hear of you again. Now you may go.”