Within a few days he learned the answers to two key questions.
First, Elizabeth was not plotting against Queen Mary Tudor. In fact she expressed a horror of treason that seemed genuine to Ned. However, she was preparing, quite methodically, to make a bid for the throne after Mary's death, whenever that might be. Cecil's Christmas trip to Kingsbridge had been part of a program in which he, and other allies of Elizabeth, visited the most important cities in England to assess her support--and opposition. Ned's admiration for Cecil grew fast: the man thought strategically, judging every issue by its long-term effect on the destiny of the princess he served.
Second, Elizabeth was a Protestant, despite Cecil's pretense that she had no strong religious convictions. She went to mass, and performed every Catholic ritual that was expected of her, but that was for show. Her favorite book was Paraphrases of the New Testament by Erasmus. Most telling was her bad language. She used swear words that Catholics considered offensive. In polite company she chose phrases that were not quite blasphemous: "blood" instead of "God's blood"; "zounds" for "God's wounds"; and "marry" for "Mary." But in private she was more profane, saying "by the mass" and--her favorite--"God's body!"
In the mornings she studied with her tutor, and Ned sat in Cecil's office with the ledgers. Elizabeth had a lot of property, and a major part of Ned's job was making sure that she was paid the rents due to her in full and on time. After the midday meal Elizabeth relaxed, and sometimes she liked her favorite servants to chat with her. They would sit in a room known as the bishop's parlor, which had the most comfortable chairs, a chessboard, and a virginal on which Elizabeth would sometimes pick out tunes. Her governess, Nell Baynsford, was always there, and sometimes Tom Parry, who was her treasurer.
Ned was not a member of this exclusive inner circle, but one day, when Cecil was absent, he was called in to talk about plans for Elizabeth's twenty-fifth birthday on September 7, a couple of weeks away. Should they try to arrange a big celebration in London, which would require the permission of the queen, or something more modest here at Hatfield, where they could do what they liked?
They were deep in discussion when a surprise visitor arrived.
They heard the clatter of hooves as several horses came through the arched gateway into the central courtyard. Ned went to the leaded window and peered out through the smoky glass. There were six riders, and their mounts were powerful, costly beasts. Elizabeth's grooms came out of the stables to deal with the horses. Ned looked harder at the leader of the group and was astonished to recognize him. "It's Earl Swithin!" he said. "What does he want here?"
Ned's first thought was that the visit must have something to do with the coming marriage of the earl's son, Bart, to the girl Ned loved, Margery. But this was a fantasy. Even if the engagement had been broken off, the earl would not trouble to tell Ned.
What, then?
The visitors were ushered into the house, taking off their dusty cloaks. A few minutes later a servant came into the parlor to say that the earl of Shiring would like to speak to the lady Elizabeth, and Elizabeth ordered that he should be shown in.
Earl Swithin was a big man with a loud voice, and when he entered he filled the room with his presence. Ned, Nell, and Tom stood up, but Elizabeth remained sitting, perhaps to emphasize that her royal blood counted for more than Swithin's greater age. He made a deep bow, but spoke in familiar tones, like an uncle to a niece. "I'm pleased to see you looking so well, and so beautiful," he said.
"This is an unexpected delight," Elizabeth said. The compliment was fulsome but her tone was wary. Clearly she mistrusted Swithin--and so she should, Ned thought. Loyal Catholics such as Swithin had prospered under Queen Mary Tudor, and they feared a return to Protestantism, so they did not want Elizabeth to become queen.
"So beautiful, and almost twenty-five years old!" Swithin went on. "A red-blooded man such as myself cannot help thinking that such beauty should not be wasted--you will forgive me for saying so."
"Will I?" Elizabeth replied frostily. She never was amused by vague sexual innuendo uttered in tones of jollity.
Swithin sensed Elizabeth's coolness and looked at the three servants standing in the background. He was clearly wondering if he might get on better without their listening. He was mildly startled when his eye fell on Ned, but he said nothing to him. Turning back to Elizabeth he said: "May I speak privately to you, my dear?"
Assuming unwarranted familiarity was not the way to charm Elizabeth. She was a younger daughter, some said illegitimate, and that made her ultra-sensitive to any sign of disrespect. But Swithin was too stupid to grasp that.
Tom Parry said: "The lady Elizabeth must never be alone with a man--on the instructions of the queen."
"Nonsense!" said Swithin.
Ned wished that Cecil were here for this visit. It was risky for servants to stand up to an earl. The thought crossed his mind that Swithin might deliberately have arranged to come on a day when none of Elizabeth's senior staff were at the house.
What was he up to?
Swithin said: "Elizabeth has nothing to fear from me," and he chortled heartily. It made Ned's skin crawl.
But Elizabeth took offense. "Fear?" she said, raising her voice. She resented any suggestion that she was a fragile woman in need of protection. "Why should I be afraid? Of course I will speak to you privately."
Reluctantly, the three servants left the room.
When the door was closed Tom said to Ned: "You know him--what is he like?"
"Swithin is a violent man," Ned said. "We must stay close." He realized that Tom and Nell were looking to him for guidance. He thought fast. "Nell, will you tell the kitchen to send wine for the guest?" If it became necessary to enter the room, the wine would provide a pretext.
Tom said: "What will he do if we go back in?"
Ned thought of Swithin's reaction to the Puritan walkout at the play. "I've seen him try to kill a man who offended him."
"God save us."
Ned touched his head to the door. He could hear the two voices: Swithin's was loud and Elizabeth's was penetrating. He could not make out the words, but the tones were calm, if not very amiable, and he felt that for the moment Elizabeth was in no danger.
Ned tried to figure out what was going on. Swithin's surprise visit must have had something to do with the succession to the throne. It was the only reason a powerful courtier would be interested in Elizabeth.
Ned recalled that a much-discussed solution to the problem of the succession was to marry Elizabeth to a strong Catholic. It was assumed that she would be led by her husband in religious matters. Ned now knew Elizabeth well enough to realize that such a plan would not work, but others thought it would. King Felipe had proposed his cousin the duke of Savoy, but Elizabeth had refused.
Did Swithin want to marry Elizabeth himself? It was possible. He might hope to seduce her on this visit. More likely, he might think that if he spent enough time alone with her the suspicion of fornication would make a marriage the only way to rescue her reputation.
He would not be the first to try. When Elizabeth had been only fourteen Thomas Seymour--a man of forty--had indulged in sexual petting with her and schemed to marry her. Seymour had ended up executed for treason, though his designs on Elizabeth had not been his only offense. Ned thought it was quite possible that the foolhardy Earl Swithin might be prepared to risk the same fate.
The tones of voice within the room changed. Elizabeth began to sound commanding. Swithin went the other way, countering her coldness with a voice so amiable it was almost lecherous.
If something unpleasant should happen, Elizabeth could shout for help. Except that she never admitted needing help. And Swithin might be able to silence her anyway.
Nell reappeared carrying a tray with a jug of wine, two goblets, and a plate of cakes. Ned held up a hand to stop her entering the room. "Not yet," he murmured.
A minute later Elizabeth made a noise that was almost a scream. It was followed by a crash and a ti
nkling sound that Ned guessed was a bowl of apples being knocked to the floor. He hesitated, waiting for Elizabeth to shout. But there followed a silence. Ned did not know what to do. He found the silence more sinister than anything.
Unable to bear the suspense, he threw open the door, seized the tray from Nell, and stepped inside.
On the far side of the room Earl Swithin held Elizabeth in a bear hug, kissing her. Ned's worst fears had been justified.
Elizabeth turned her head from side to side, trying to escape his mouth, and Ned saw her small fists beating ineffectually on Swithin's broad back. Clearly she was unwilling. But this would be Swithin's idea of courtship, Ned thought. He would imagine that a woman might be overcome by the strength of his passion, yield to his embraces, and fall in love with him for his forceful masculinity.
Elizabeth would not be won that way if Swithin were the last man on earth.
In a loud voice Ned said: "Some refreshments for you, Earl." He was shaking with fear but he managed to make his voice jovial. "A glass of sherry wine, perhaps?" He put the tray down on a table beside the window.
Swithin turned to Ned but kept tight hold of Elizabeth's slim wrist in his deformed left hand. "Get out of here, you little turd," he said.
His persistence shocked Ned. How could Swithin continue now that he had been seen? Even an earl could be executed for rape, especially if there were three independent witnesses--and both Tom and Nell were in the doorway, watching, though too terrified to enter.
But Swithin was nothing if not headstrong.
Ned realized he could not leave now, no matter what.
With an effort he controlled the shaking of his hands enough to pour wine into a goblet. "And the kitchen has kindly sent some cakes. You must be hungry after your journey."
Elizabeth said: "Let go of my arm, Swithin." She tugged, but even though he was holding her with his mutilated hand, the one that had lost two and a half fingers, she could not free herself.
Swithin put his hand on the dagger at his belt. "Leave the room instantly, young Willard, or by God I'll slit your throat."
Ned knew he was capable of it. At New Castle, in his rages, he had injured servants in several incidents that had been smoothed over, later, with a combination of threats and compensation. And if Ned defended himself he could be hanged for wounding an earl.
But he could not leave Elizabeth now.
The mention of a knife inspired him. "There's been a fight in the stables," he said, extemporizing. "Two of your companions got into an argument. The grooms managed to pull them apart, but one seems badly injured--a knife wound."
"Bloody liar," said Swithin, but clearly he was not sure, and the indecision cooled his ardor.
Behind Ned, Nell and Tom at last came hesitantly into the room. Nell knelt down and started to pick up pieces of the broken fruit bowl. Tom cottoned on to Ned's story and said: "Your man is bleeding quite badly, Earl Swithin."
Common sense began to prevail. Swithin seemed to realize he could not stab three of Elizabeth's servants without getting into trouble. And his plan of seduction had collapsed. He looked furious, but let go of Elizabeth. She immediately moved away from him, rubbing her wrist.
With a grunt of frustration, Swithin strode from the room.
Ned almost collapsed with relief. Nell began to cry. Tom Parry took a gulp of sherry directly from the jug.
Ned said: "My lady, you should go to your private chamber with Nell and bar the door. Tom, you and I should vanish too."
"I agree," said Elizabeth, but she did not leave immediately. She moved closer to Ned and said quietly: "There was no fight in the stables, was there?"
"No. It was the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment."
She smiled. "How old are you, Ned?"
"Nineteen."
"You risked your life for me." She stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the lips briefly but tenderly. "Thank you," she said.
Then she left the room.
Most people bathed twice a year, in spring and autumn, but princesses were fastidious, and Elizabeth bathed more often. It was a major operation, with maidservants carrying big two-handled laundry tubs of hot water from the kitchen fire to her bedchamber, hurrying up the stairs before the water cooled.
She took a bath the day after Swithin's visit, as if to wash away her disgust. She had said no more about Swithin, after kissing Ned, but Ned thought he had won her trust.
Ned knew he had made an enemy of a powerful earl, but he hoped it would not last: Swithin was quick-tempered and vengeful, but, Ned thought, he had a short attention span. With luck he would nurse his grudge against Ned only until a better one came along.
Sir William Cecil had arrived shortly after Swithin left, and next morning he got down to work with Ned. Cecil's office was in the same wing as Elizabeth's private suite. He sent Ned to Tom Parry's office to fetch a ledger of expenditure for another house Elizabeth owned. Coming back with the heavy book in his hand, Ned walked along Elizabeth's corridor, where the floorboards were puddled with water spilled by the maids. As he passed her suite, he saw that the door was open, and--stupidly--he glanced in.
Elizabeth had just got out of her bath. The tub itself was screened off, but she had stepped across the room to pick up a large white linen sheet with which to dry herself. There should have been a maid waiting beside the tub holding the towel, and of course the door should have been shut; but someone had been dilatory, and Elizabeth was impatient with dozy servants.
Ned had never seen a woman naked. He had no sisters, he had never gone that far with a girlfriend, and he had not visited a brothel.
He froze, staring. The hot bathwater, steaming faintly, ran from her dainty shoulders down her small breasts to her rounded hips and her strong thighs, muscular from riding. Her skin was creamy white and her pubic hair was a wonderful red-gold. Ned knew he should look away instantly, but he was enchanted, and could not move.
She caught his eye and was startled, but only for a moment. She reached out and grabbed the edge of the door.
Then she smiled.
A moment later she slammed the door.
Ned hurried along the corridor, his heart beating like a big drum. For what he had just done he could be sacked from his job, put in the stocks, or flogged--or all three.
But she had smiled.
The smile had been warm, friendly, and a little coquettish. Ned could imagine a naked woman smiling like that at her husband or lover. The smile seemed to say that this glimpse of forbidden loveliness was a boon she was happy to grant him.
He told nobody what had happened.
That evening he waited for an explosion of anger, but none came. Elizabeth did not mention the incident, to him or anyone else. Slowly Ned became sure he was not going to be punished. Then he began to doubt whether it had really happened. It was more like something he might have dreamed.
But he would remember that vision for the rest of his life.
Margery was kissed by Bart for the first time in the new house, Priory Gate.
Sir Reginald Fitzgerald, Lady Jane, and Rollo were proudly showing Earl Swithin around. Margery followed with Bart, who was back from his posting to Combe Harbour now that the threat of a French invasion seemed to have faded. Margery knew that Reginald had sold the rest of the priory back to the cathedral chapter, as promised. The price had been low, but enough to pay for the building work on the new house to be completed.
It was a grand, impressive modern structure on the market square, made of the same pale limestone as the cathedral. It had rows of large windows and tall clustered chimneys. Inside there seemed to be staircases everywhere and dozens of fireplaces. It smelled of new paint, some of the chimneys smoked, and several of the doors would not close properly, but it was habitable, and servants were already moving furniture here from the old house on the high street.
Margery did not want to live here. For her, Priory Gate would always smell of bloodshed and fraud. Philbert Cobley had been burned to d
eath and Alice Willard had been ruined so that this house could be finished. Philbert and Alice had committed sins, of course, and so had to be punished, but Margery's sharp moral discrimination would not permit her to content herself with such blurring of distinctions: the severe sentences had been prompted by impure motives. Bishop Julius had got the priory back for the cathedral and Margery's father had gained a lot of money that was not really his.
A mere girl had no business thinking such thoughts, but she could not help it, and it made her angry. Bad behavior by bishops and leading Catholics was part of what drove Protestantism--could they not see that? However, there was nothing she could do but seethe.
As the party entered the Long Gallery, Bart lagged behind, grabbed Margery's elbow, and pulled her back; then, when the others were out of sight, he kissed her.
Bart was tall and handsome and well dressed, and Margery knew that she must love him, for he had been chosen as her husband by her parents, who had been set in authority over her by God. So she kissed him back, opening her mouth, and let him explore her body, feel her breasts, and even press his hand between her legs. It was difficult, especially as she kept remembering that Ned had kissed her in this house when it was half built. She tried to summon the feelings that used to come over her with Ned. It did not really work, but it made the ordeal a little easier to bear.
She broke the embrace and saw Swithin watching them.
"We were wondering where you two had got to," he said, then he gave a conspiratorial grin and a lascivious wink. Margery found it creepy that he had stood there, watching, until she had noticed him.
The party sat down in the room designated as Sir Reginald's parlor to talk about the wedding. It was just a month away. Margery and Bart would be married in Kingsbridge Cathedral, and there would be a banquet here in the new house. Margery had ordered a dress in pale blue silk and an elaborate headdress in the jaunty style she loved. Earl Swithin wanted to know all the details of her outfit, almost as if he would be marrying her himself. Her parents had to have new clothes, too, and there were a hundred other decisions to be made. There would be entertainment as well as food and drink for the guests, and Sir Reginald would have to provide free beer for all comers at the gate.