The Tudor Secret by C. W. Gortner Read Free Book Online Page A

because there are far too many people at court and my constitution is such that I cannot afford to contract an illness.” She held up a hand. “And I will not be dissuaded. I have waited long enough. I mean to see my brother tonight. No one, not even his lordship the duke of Northumberland, can stop me.”
    Cecil’s reluctant incline of head showed that he recognized the futility of further argument. “At least, let Master Walsingham accompany you. He’s well trained and can give you proper protection should—”
    “Absolutely not. I’ve no need for Master Walsingham’s or anyone else’s protection. By the rood, am I not the king’s sister? What need I fear from being at his court?” She didn’t wait for an answer. She continued toward the palace, her dog in perfect pace at her side. Then all of a sudden it paused. With a low growl, it turned its baleful eyes to the hedge. I froze; it had smelled me. She yanked at its chain. The dog did not budge, its growl becoming louder, turning into a menacing snarl.
    I heard her say, “Who goes there?” and knew I had no other choice.
    To the hound’s bloodcurdling bark, I stood and shifted through an opening in the hedge. I swiftly knelt, removed my cap. The moonlight sliced across my face. She went still. The dog snarled again. Cecil snapped his fingers. The guards were at me, swords scything in release. In a second, I was surrounded by blades. If I so much as moved a muscle, I would impale myself.
    The dog strained at its chain, snout drawn back and fangs bared. She patted its sleek head. “Hush, Urian,” I heard her say. “Be still.” The hound sat on its haunches, its strange green-toned eyes fixed on me.
    Cecil said, “I believe I know this youth, Your Grace. I assure you, he is quite harmless.”
    One of her thin red-gold brows arched. “I don’t doubt it, seeing as he thought to hide from us in the yew, of all places. Who is he?”
    “Robert Dudley’s squire.”
    I glanced up in time to catch the quick look Cecil cast in my direction. I couldn’t tell whether he was displeased or amused.
    The princess motioned. The guards shifted back. I stayed on one knee.
    There are moments that define our existence, moments that, if we recognize them, become pivotal turning points in our life. Like pearls on a strand, the accumulation of such moments will in time become the essence of our life, providing solace when our end draws near.
    For me, meeting Elizabeth Tudor was one of those moments.
    The first thing I noticed was that she was not beautiful. Her chin was too narrow for the oval of her face, her long thin nose emphasizing the high curve of her cheeks and proud brow. Her mouth was disproportionately wide and her lips too thin, as if she savored secrets. And she was too pale and slim, like a fey creature of indeterminate sex.
    Then I met her stare. Her eyes were fathomless, overwide pupils limning her gold irises, like twin suns in eclipse. I had seen eyes like hers before, years ago, when a traveling menagerie entertained us at Dudley Castle. Then, too, I had been captured by their dormant power.
    She had the eyes of a lion.
    “Lord Robert’s squire?” she said to Cecil. “How can it be? I’ve never seen him before.”
    “I’m new to court, Your Grace,” I answered. “Your dog is foreign, is he not?”
    She shot me a terse look; she’d not given me leave to speak. “He is Italian. You are familiar with the breed?”
    “I had occasion to learn many things during my time in the Dudley stables.”
    “Is that so?” She tilted her head. “Hold out your hand.”
    I hesitated for a moment before warily extending my wrist. She loosened her grip on the chain. The hound thrust his muzzle at me. I almost recoiled as I felt his breath on my skin. He sniffed. To my relief, he licked my skin and retreated.
    “You have a way with animals,” Elizabeth said. “Urian rarely takes to strangers.” She motioned me to my feet. “What is your name?”
    “Brendan