Tom hadn’t seen any drummers, but suddenly the chamber was filled with a steady drumming, starting low but rising in volume as the beat got faster. He had expected a blindfold but none had been offered. What should he look at? What would be the last thing he ever saw? He tried to concentrate his sight on the daylight streaming in through the upper windows but out of the corner of his eye he could see the hooded man reach for the lever.
Tom closed his eyes.
Mr Bull nodded. The hooded man’s hand tightened.
“Stop!”
It was a woman’s voice, loud and authoritative, the sort of voice that had to be obeyed. The single word had come from the door but it seemed to explode in the chamber, echoing off the walls. The drumming stopped instantly. The hooded man, Mr Bull and the four guards fell to their knees. Tom slowly turned his head, the noose rubbing against his neck.
Queen Elizabeth swept into the room and she had never looked more awesome or more majestic. She was wearing a billowing dress of black satin decorated with gold buckles rising all the way up the front to her neck. Her face was surrounded by a collar of dazzling white with a great band of white pearls hanging from her neck. She had come to a halt in a circle of light lancing down from one of the windows and in the dark interior she seemed to burn gold and white and every colour of the spectrum. Her eyes burned brightest of all. And they were staring at Tom.
“Bring the boy down,” she said.
For a moment nobody moved. Then everyone ran for the steps, fighting to be the first to reach the boy who was now dangling from the rope, having fainted where he stood.
five heads
The Queen came to see Tom a few days later.
He had been taken to the Tower, not to one of the prisons but to a comfortable room overlooking the Thames. As soon as he had been strong enough to walk, he had tried the door and had been pleased to discover that it wasn’t locked. There had been other surprises. The room had a bed with sheets of pure linen. And Tom had been brought clothes that were finer and more expensive than anything he had ever seen. He had been given wonderful food. The wine had come in a real glass.
And now, here was the Queen of England, standing in his room. Just the two of them. Alone.
Impossible!
Tom bowed low, fixing his eyes on the floor. He heard the Queen sweep into the room and sit down on a chair. After a long silence, wondering if he dared, Tom looked up.
“They call you Tom Falconer,” the Queen said.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Tom…” The Queen was staring at him with a whole range of contrary emotions in her eyes. She seemed happy and sad, angry and pleased, aloof but uncertain, royal and yet somehow afraid. It was late in the afternoon. The sun was beginning to set. The Thames was flowing from silver to a burning red. “Sit down, Tom,” the Queen said.
There was only one chair in the room. Tom sat down on the bed.
“How is your wound, child?”
“Much better, thank you, Your Majesty.” His wound had been cleaned and bandaged. It was hurting now – a sure sign that it was beginning to heal.
The Queen bowed her head.
“I have done you great wrong,” she said.
“It’s all right, Your Majesty. You weren’t to know…”
The Queen waved a hand to silence him and fell silent. Sitting on the chair, just a few centimetres away, she looked much more like the old woman she undoubtedly was. Her skin was heavily made-up, but Tom could still see the wrinkles. He already knew (although it shamed him to remember) that her bright red hair was a wig. Her teeth were entirely black. And yet her pale skin and bright blue eyes reminded him of someone. He wondered who.
“I have to talk to you about … other matters, Tom,” the Queen said. “But I shall begin with Dr Mobius and the Garden Players.” She paused. “As I am sure you’ve guessed, they weren’t an acting company at all. In fact they were Spanish, members of a secret organization called the Garduna. They were going to kill me, even though they knew they would all die themselves. And they would have succeeded, if it hadn’t been for you.”
She smiled. “I know now – at least, I believe I have guessed – exactly what you were doing that night. You were trying to protect me. Am I right?”
“Yes, Your Majesty.” Tom hung his head in shame. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
“I have done much, much worse to you, child. But I will come to that soon. As you probably know, the man who calls himself Dr Mobius had bribed one of my officers. Sir Richard Brooke…”
“The man with the scar!”
“A man who will have more than a scar by the time I’ve finished with him! He worked for my Lord Chamberlain. Between them, they choose which plays I see. Sir Richard was paid well to introduce the Garden Players. But soon it’s going to be his turn to pay…”
“How did you find out, Your Majesty?” Tom asked. He was slowly getting used to the fact that he was having a quiet chat with the richest and most powerful woman in the world. He was even beginning to enjoy it. “How did you find out that I wasn’t on their side?”
“You have your two friends to thank for that.”
“Two…?”
“Moll Cutpurse and Gamaliel Ratsey.”
“What?” Ratsey had helped him? The very thought made Tom’s head spin.
“They broke into my Presence Chamber and although I had already retired, they had the good fortune to come upon one of my spies. A man by the name of Henry Moorfield.”
“Moorfield?” Tom gasped. “I thought it was a place!”
“You were told to go to Moorfield by Sir William Hawkins. I know. And this is where it gets difficult, Tom. This is where it finishes and where it starts.”
There was a long silence. Then, to Tom’s astonishment, the Queen rose from the chair, came over and sat down next to him on the bed. Gently, she laid her hands on his face, one underneath his chin and one on the side of his cheek and turned him so that she could look into his eyes. At the same time, Tom looked into her eyes – he couldn’t avoid it – and saw how sad they had become.
“Listen to me,” she said, and her voice was a whisper. “You must never tell anyone else what I am going to tell you. Believe me, Tom. It’s a secret that could destroy us both – and the entire country with us.”
She hesitated. Then…
“More than forty years ago, when I was just sixteen years old, I made a dreadful mistake. My father had died and the king – Edward – was only a boy, younger than you.
“He was too young to reign on his own, so the Council elected a man to look after him – a Protector. That man was called Edward Seymour. And the mistake I made was to fall in love with his brother.
“Thomas Seymour – yes, he had the same name as you – was a rogue and a ruffian and a fool. But he was also handsome, brave, and he made me laugh. He was much older than me and he was married but … well, one thing led to another and he…” She found it difficult to frame the words. “He left me with a child!
“Those were dangerous times, Tom. The day I learned I was pregnant, Thomas Seymour was arrested – for treason.” She sighed. “He was no more a traitor than I was but, as I told you, he was a fool, and two months later, he lost his head. And there was I, left behind, carrying his baby! If anyone had found out, Tom, believe me, my head would have gone too. As it was, I was sent here, to the Tower and interrogated. Luckily, I kept my head. And my secret. But it was close.
“I left the Tower and went to Hatfield and it was there, in complete secrecy, that I gave birth to a child, a boy. I called him Thomas, after his father, but I saw him for only one day. It was too dangerous to keep him close. It hurt me, Tom, but I knew I had no choice. A servant of mine had the baby passed to a wet-nurse and smuggled away. He was taken to a family in Suffolk who agreed to adopt him. They also changed his name. They called him Robert.”
Tom stared. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. And he was already beginning to see what was about to
come.
“After I lost the child, I thought about him every hour of every day,” the Queen went on. “But then a time came when I had to force myself to forget him, to pretend that he didn’t exist.” She sighed. “It was difficult becoming queen. It was difficult staying queen. And it’s still murderously difficult being queen. And admitting to having an illegitimate child by a man executed for treason forty-four years ago would only make it all the more difficult. I’ve had no choice. I’ve had to forget my own child.”
“What happened to him?” Tom asked. But he already knew.
“Something went wrong. The family that was supposed to be looking after him failed me. Thomas – or Robert as he now was – grew up to become the falcon keeper at Framlingham Castle. But then there was an accident. He fell off a horse…”
“You’re talking about my father,” Tom said.
“Yes.”
There was a long silence.
“You’re my grandmother,” Tom said.
“Yes.” The Queen took Tom’s hand in her own, holding it as if it were a precious object rather than flesh and blood. “I never knew your father had died. And I never knew that you had been born,” she said. “Not until recently.”
“And so you sent Sir William Hawkins to find me?”
“Yes. He didn’t know who you really were, although he may have guessed. He was a spy. He was clever.”
“You know how he died?”
“Yes. We managed to get the truth out of that scoundrel, Ratsey, and believe me, Tom, he should lose his head for his part in all this. But, well, we can discuss that later.”
The Queen stood up. “I’ll come back this evening,” she said. “Then we can talk again.”
“Wait a minute!” It suddenly occurred to Tom that he had completely dropped the “Your Majesties”. And he had just told the Queen what to do! “There is one thing,” he said. “You told me that nobody must know. So what you’re saying is, I’m your grandson. But I’m not going to be king.”
“The question of who’ll be king is something the whole country has been asking,” the Queen replied. “And I wish Parliament would stop bothering me about it. I could introduce you, if you wanted, Tom. And perhaps the people might accept you. On the other hand, it could lead to a bloody civil war.” She shrugged. “Do you want to be king?”
“I don’t think so,” Tom said.
“Well, I can see you’ve inherited a little common sense,” the Queen said. She paused, suddenly serious. “But think about this, Tom. I can help you become whatever you want. Think about it. We’ll meet again this evening.”
That evening, Tom and the Queen met for the last time.
“I want to ask you a favour,” Tom said.
“Go on.”
“I’ve been thinking about Florian. He was one of the Garden Players. Have you…?” Tom hesitated to say it.
“He hasn’t been executed, Tom. Not yet.”
“Will you spare him, Your Majesty?” Tom blushed without quite knowing why. “I know he was part of it, but I don’t think he wanted to be. Dr Mobius was his uncle. He just did what he was told. The same as me when I was at The Pig’s Head.”
The Queen didn’t look pleased. “It’s not a good idea to spare your enemies,” she said, “because it gives all your other enemies ideas.” She softened. “But if you really think he was forced into it, I could just have him tortured…”
“Couldn’t you just let him go?”
“If you insist. Is there anything else?”
Tom smiled. “I was wondering about Moll and Ratsey…”
“Two vagabonds! A pickpocket and a highwayman. I have to say, Tom, for someone with royal blood in you, you’ve been keeping some pretty low company. But you’re alive and I have them to thank for it. What do you want me to do with them? Don’t tell me you want me to knight them!”
“Will you let them go?”
“I already have. Mistress Cutpurse left with a bag of gold for her pains.”
“What about Ratsey?”
“He was lucky to escape with his life.” Suddenly the Queen was stern. “Maybe he wasn’t entirely to blame for what he became, Tom. And every man deserves a second chance. But I tell you this. If he ever ends up on one of my scaffolds – and I’m certain he will – I won’t be there to help.”
“I understand.”
The Queen sat next to Tom once again and held him in her arms. “But what of you, Tom? Have you thought what you’re going to do? I can give you a house and land. I can make you a lord…”
“I don’t want to be a lord, Your Majesty.” Tom smiled. “I want to be an actor!”
“What?”
“There’s a man I met. His name is William Shakespeare…”
The Queen nodded. “Yes. I’ve heard of him. I’m told he’s rather good.”
“I met him when I was trying to get into the Rose Theatre. We got on quite well and I’m sure he’d help me if…”
“I’m not sure I approve of players,” the Queen said. “They’re a rowdy lot at the best of times. But if you’re sure that’s what you really want…”
“It is. More than anything in the world.”
“I’ll have a word with Master Shakespeare.” She stood up and once again she was sad. “I think it would be easier for both of us if we kept apart,” she said. “But if you ever need my help, Tom, I’m very easy to find.”
“I’m sure, Your Majesty.”
“And if you can’t be my grandson, you can still be my friend. After all, you did save my life.”
“I’ll always be your servant.” Tom bowed.
The Queen turned and left the room.
A few weeks later, rehearsals began for a new play that was to be performed at the Rose Theatre in the early spring. The play was called Romeo and Juliet. It was a love story.
Tom had only a small part in the play. He had been cast as a servant and he had only a few lines. But it was a start. And what mattered to him was that he was an actor, an official member of the Company of the Admiral’s Men.
He had seen Moll only once since winter had ended. She had come to the theatre to wish him luck and had stayed just long enough to pick-pocket a couple of spectators before heading off to a thieves’ dinner-and-dance in Shoreditch. Gamaliel Ratsey had gone straight back to Suffolk without bothering to say goodbye. Tom had to admit he was rather glad. The trouble with Ratsey was you never knew if he was going to shake your hand or cut your throat.
“Tom!” Shakespeare was calling him now, a great pile of papers in one hand, a feather quill in the other. The two of them spent much of their time together. Tom loved giving Shakespeare ideas for new plays. In return, Shakespeare was teaching Tom how to read.
Tom hurried to join his friend.
At the same time, a short way up the Thames, four men and one woman were gazing in Tom’s direction, as if trying to see what he was doing. Dr Mobius was the first of them. Then came James Grimly, Sir Richard Brooke and finally Sebastian and Henrietta Slope. They were almost unrecognizable by now, as they’d been there for several weeks. Five heads on five spikes high above London Bridge.
Beneath them, the river flowed gently past, the water glistening in the dying light.
Goodnight, goodnight!
Parting is such sweet sorrow
That I shall say goodnight
till it be morrow…
afterword
This is the chapter you don’t have to read.
But for those of you who want to know, a lot of The Devil and his Boy is based on truth. Many of the characters, for example, were alive in 1593. Elizabeth I and Shakespeare, of course, but also Gamaliel Ratsey, Moll Cutpurse, Philip Henslowe, Lord Strange, Edmund Tilney (Master of the Revels), Dr John Dee and even Mr Bull, the hangman.
I have tried to describe London as it was in the sixteenth century. Paul’s Walk really was at the heart of the City – it was the place where people went to find work – and there was an open area called Moorfield, just north of
Moorgate. The Rose Theatre, Newgate Prison and Whitehall were all much as I’ve described and the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall really was made of cloth (it was replaced with a solid structure in the reign of King James). Framlingham is also a real town. You can still visit the castle with its peculiar twisted chimneys. Even now, nobody knows why they were built.
As to the events described in this book… It is certainly true that the young Elizabeth had a close relationship with Thomas Seymour, brother of the Protector. It was also rumoured that she carried his child. Elizabeth herself wrote, “…that there goeth rumours abroad which be greatly both against my honour and honesty (which above all things I esteem) which be these: that I am in the Tower and with child by my lord Admiral…”
There were also many people who hated the Queen and wanted her dead – mainly the Spanish. The Garduna was a secret organization, closely linked with the Inquisition. Its members were also known as the Holy Warriors of Spain.
Moll Cutpurse was a famous thief of the sixteenth century. She is even the subject of a play – The Roaring Girl. Moll did dress up in boys’ clothes. She was involved with a “school for crime”. And she was the daughter of a shoemaker. It’s nice to know that she lived until she was seventy, a remarkable age, before she died of dropsy.
Gamaliel Ratsey was less fortunate. The most famous highwayman of his time, Ratsey did have noble parents and had served in Ireland before he took to crime (many thieves were unemployed soldiers). He was also well-known for his horrible masks. Eight years after this book ends, Ratsey was betrayed by a friend and taken prisoner. He was hanged.
John Dee is an interesting character. He was Queen Elizabeth’s personal magician, a Welshman who spent much of his life searching for the secret of how to turn base metal into gold. Dee also owned a “stone of vision” – I didn’t make it up. There’s no record, however, of his owning a talking cat!