Honor in the Dust (19 page)

“Stuart Winslow, my lady. And yours?”

“I'm Nell Fenton. Let me introduce you to the other members
of the queen's service.” She named them one by one, and all of them smiled at Stuart with their eyes.

“Why don't you show me your birds?” Nell asked. “That's what brought you here, isn't it?”

“Yes, my lady, it is. I'd be glad to show you the new falcon.”

“We'll all go,” said another, winking at the other two.

“No, I want Stuart all to myself,” Nell said. She moved forward and smiled at him. “Come. I must see the king's birds.”

Stuart was dazzled by the beauty of the young woman. He had been at court for only a week, and most of his time had been spent either in the mews or working with Ben Styles, the chief armorer. He had spent some time with Simon Clayton, learning the fine points of gambling, but he had not seen anything like this young woman. She was, he assumed, a year or two older than himself, but there was a certain knowledge in her dark eyes that could come only from some sort of wisdom, experience. She exuded a charm that he had never encountered before. She questioned him closely, and by the time they got to the mews, she knew more about him than he did about her.

He stepped back and waved her inside. She looked at the falcons and cried out, “Oh, aren't they beautiful!”

“I think so. Let me introduce them to you, Miss Fenton.” He showed her each of the birds, told her their names and what they were capable of doing. He did not notice that she was paying more attention to him than she was to the falcons and hawks.

Finally she said, “I'm a little warm. Perhaps you would go to the kitchen and get us something cool to drink.”

“Why, certainly, if you wish it.”

Afterward, Nell dismissed him saying, “You must show me some more. I'd love to see you fly some of the birds.”

“Well, that's the king's pleasure.”

“I'm certain he would allow it if you properly inquire.”

“I would never ask him,” Stuart said. “After all, I'm just the keeper of the birds.”

“You're much more than a mere keeper. You draw people, as bees to the hive. I bet you left a sweetheart to come here.”

He paused. “No, not really, Mistress Nell.” For so she had told him to call her.

“Come, now. Don't be bashful. A fine-looking young man like you. You saw how those other maids were giggling and ogling you.”

“Ogling? Uh—no, I didn't notice.”

Nell Fenton shook her head in wonder. Here was as good-looking a man as existed in England and he didn't seem to know it. This amused her, and she made a vow to herself that she would help him discover the power he could wield simply by trading on his looks. Not that there would ever be anything serious between the two of them, of course, but it would be amusing.

The next day Stuart was carrying a message from the king to the queen. Ordinarily there would be a page to do this, but they had been flying the hawks, and King Henry had scribbled a few words on a scrap of paper, blown on it, and handed it to Stuart, saying, “Take this to the queen.”

“To the queen?”

“Yes, you can find her. Ask anyone.”

Stuart took the slip of paper, bowed to the king, then walked away at a rapid pace. He was going to meet the queen of England! He had heard much about Catherine of Aragon and was curious.

He asked one of the servants at the palace to tell the queen that he had a message from the king, and after a brief wait, she returned, saying, “Her Majesty will see you.” Stuart followed her, hoping that he might catch a glimpse of Nell Fenton, but did not.

He found the queen in the garden without any of her ladies around her. Stuart was surprised to see how plain she was. She looked ill and unhappy. “I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. I bring you a note from the king.”

Catherine was sitting in the shade of a large oak tree with a small child in the grass at her feet. She read the note but slipped it into her pocket without comment. “You're new, aren't you?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. I'm Stuart Winslow. The king brought me here to help with the birds.”

Catherine gave him a close look, then said, “I hope you will like it here.”

Stuart was surprised that the queen of England would be interested in him. Before he could speak, the child said, “Play with me!”

Catherine laughed. “This is my daughter, Princess Mary. She wants you to play with her.”

“She's a beautiful child, Your Majesty. How old is she?”

“Nearing three years. I have to get something for the king. Could you entertain Mary here?”

“Wouldn't she be afraid to be left with a stranger?”

“She never meets a stranger,” Catherine said, and there was pride in her tone. “I'll return in ten minutes.” The queen left without another word. Stuart thought it strange that she would trust a stranger such as himself.

He sat down on the grass beside Mary. She was playing with three dolls, and she handed him one of them. “What a fine baby!” he said. “Just as pretty as you are.”

Mary did not speak like a typical child of her age. She launched into a long story concerning the dolls, and Stuart was amazed at how quick she was and how well she spoke.

They were engaged in playing a game that Stuart had made up when the queen returned. She smiled quickly and said, “Are you having a good time, Mary?”

“Yes! We're playing with my dolls.”

Stuart sat on the ground, his legs crossed in tailor's position. The queen sat down and watched the two play. She was amused by young Winslow's ability to entertain a child he had just met with such ease.
A fine-looking young man. I'll have to keep him-away from my maids. I fear one of them will corrupt him.
There was an innocence about the young man that was lacking in most of the men at court. She was the daughter of royal parents and had seen that corruption firsthand.

Finally Stuart said, “I'm taking up too much of your time, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, no, there is no call upon my time at the moment, and Mary's having such fun. Could you stay a little longer?”

“Oh, as long as you'd like, Your Majesty!”

So the morning went quickly. The queen sent for refreshments, and Stuart ate and tried to make it a party for himself and Mary—and the queen, of course.

“Do you like it here at court?” Queen Catherine asked at one point.

“Oh, yes, I do very much.” His eyes were bright. Catherine thought she had never seen such blue eyes in another. They almost seemed to sparkle. His hair was beautiful, full of intriguing colors, rich and thick. She soon knew much about him and his family, liking him more and more. At last, she rose and said, “I hope you'll come back sometime and see Mary again.”

“Yes, we will play,” Mary said, smiling at Stuart.

“I will certainly do that with your permission, Majesty. I'd best get back to my work.”

Later that day, Stuart told Simon about his encounter with the queen. “I wonder why she looks so sad.”

“She has things to be sad about.” Simon shrugged. “The king wants a male heir, and the queen hasn't given him one.”

“That's not her fault.”

“It is if the king says it is.” Simon shook his head and added,
“Henry never sees anything as his fault. If there is no son in his marriage, it's the fault of the queen.”

“I'll go back and see her—Mary, that is. The queen seemed glad enough to have me play with her. Mary's such a pretty little thing, and she's smart as a whip.”

Stuart did go back twice over the next week, and each time Queen Catherine was receptive and glad to see him. He got on fine with Mary, and he found out that she had a vivid imagination. The two of them made up games and played with dolls. Mary once told him, “I like you!” and gave him hug.

Catherine, watching, was amused. “You've made a conquest, Stuart. Just don't turn your charm on any of my ladies. They're not as innocent as Princess Mary.”

The trouble started when Stuart heard Charles Vining speaking of the king. Vining was an aristocratic man of twenty-five or so, and he spoke loudly to another man who Stuart did not know. “Well, the king doesn't have to go to Catherine's bedroom. He can go to his mistress any time he pleases.”

Stuart was a great admirer of King Henry. He went up to Vining at once and said, “You, sir, are a liar! How dare you spread such foul stories about our lord!”

Charles Vining stepped back in surprise. “What do you want, fellow?”

“You will not speak of the king in a disrespectful way.”

Vining's companion took in Stuart's working clothes and sneered, “This stable hand's going to teach you a lesson in morality, Charles. He may be a monk in disguise.”

Vining's face flushed. “How dare you challenge me! Get back to your stable, boy!”

“I hold you accountable for speaking ill of our king! And I back it with my sword.”

“I don't fight duels with stable boys.”

“You're a coward as well as a liar!”

Vining reached out suddenly and struck Stuart with his open hand. “Now, get away from here!”

Stuart glared at him. “I'll go to the king. You'll be thrown out of court.”

“Why, you stupid clodhopper!” Vining drew his sword, but his companion quickly grabbed his arm. “Cease, Charles. This young fellow is the new keeper of the birds. The king is quite taken with him.”

“Oh, you foolish, foolish boy,” said Vining, still trembling with rage.

Stuart stood still. He had no weapon, but he was not afraid.

Vining was drawn off by his friend, and they went to the king, with Stuart right behind them. Vining told the king that the stable hand, as he referred to Stuart, had challenged him to a duel. “I should have run him through!”

“Why did he challenge you?”

Vining was uncomfortable. “He was listening to a private conversation, and he got angry at something I said.”

“What did you say?”

Vining was on the horns of a dilemma. He knew he could not tell the king the truth. It was true, as everyone in the court knew, that Henry had more than one mistress, but young Winslow had obviously not been at court long enough to know it.

Henry glanced over at Stuart, then back to Vining, and said, “You shall not hurt young Winslow. I'm fond of him. And he's going to be a fine master of the hawks.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, but he needs to be cut down to size.”

“I'll do all the cutting, Vining,” Henry said. He stared at the courtly man for a moment. His eyes narrowed. “Were you talking about me?”

“Well, sire, I'm afraid I was.”

At once understanding filled Henry's eyes. “We shall speak of this further.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

He watched the two men depart and then gestured to Stuart. “Come, son, let us walk together out to the mews.”

“Yes, Majesty,” Stuart said, rising from his bow. The two walked down the center of the court, ignoring the people bowing about them. Outside, the king leaned closer to him. “Now, Stuart, I'll have the truth. What caused the trouble with Sir Charles Vining?”

“He spoke slightingly of Your Majesty.”

Henry smiled. “That's a tactful way to put it. He spoke slightingly of me. What exactly did he say?”

“I do not care to repeat his words. They're unbecoming.”

“Did he refer to my morals?”

“If you'll pardon me, Your Majesty, I would rather not say.”

Henry stared at the young man. “I haven't seen such innocence in a long time,” he said, then he shook his head and said, “Don't you know that you could be soundly whipped or put in the stocks or even sent to prison for challenging a gentleman?”

“I didn't think about that.”

“Well, you must stop and think, Stuart, and I want you to stay away from the court gossips and certainly away from any brawling.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“You'll hear all sorts of tales floating around. Pay no attention to them. Especially the young ladies. The queen's attendants and others.”