Kissing Shakespeare (9 page)

He pressed his mouth to my ear. “Thank you, Olivia. You will not be sorry.”

I’d have to take a wait-and-see attitude on that.

A
FTER WHAT WE’D WITNESSED IN TOWN
, the mood at Hoghton Tower was grim. When Alexander told his wife the news, her manner remained calm, but the serene expression in her eyes changed to wariness, and maybe fear, I thought. Conversation at supper was subdued. Thomas, who had mysteriously reappeared at the side of the road on our way home, was not present. The rest of us picked at our food, and I was relieved when the master and mistress stood, marking the end of the meal.

I hurried upstairs to my room and threw myself on my bed. My limbs felt heavy and rigid. Despite my determined effort to block them out, visions of the prisoner tormented me. I heard his screams, saw his tortured body, and stared once again into his hopeless eyes. After a while I must have dozed off. A hand on my shoulder and a voice whispering my name awakened me.

I twisted my head around. “See what I mean about the lack of privacy?”

“Are you unwell?” Stephen asked from his perch on the side of my bed.

“How could I not be? I watched a man burn to death today!”

“I am full of sorrow for you, that you had to see something so monstrous.”

When I didn’t respond, Stephen squeezed my hand. “Olivia?”

I rolled over onto my back. “Stephen, I’m scared to death! What could anyone have done to deserve such a horrifying end?”

With a sigh, he released my hand. “Nothing. Nothing at all.” For a moment, he studied my face, and I forced myself to look right back.

“The time has come for you to know more. I had hoped that the religious discord wouldn’t involve you, but I see now that was foolish of me.”

“So start explaining,” I said, scooting into a sitting position. I needed to look into Stephen’s eyes. I wanted to know how much truth he was telling me.

“Since the pope excommunicated the queen, matters have become worse for Catholics.”

“When was that?”

He waved his hand through the air. “I don’t remember exactly. Sometime in the 1570s. For keeping or sheltering priests, as the Hoghtons and many others are doing, there are fines, even imprisonment. People suffer the same consequences for recusancy.”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Recusancy? Not attending Protestant services.”

“Do your aunt and uncle attend?”

“For a time, they did. In recent months they have given it up as hypocritical. That is what our families quarreled about.”

“Your family
does
attend, even though they’re Catholic?”

“My father feels it is the safest course. They go to Protestant services, and when there’s a priest about the neighborhood, they come home and hear Mass.”

I nodded. “Okay. Go on.”

“For the priests themselves … some have been tortured and executed, as you witnessed today. Especially the Jesuit missionaries.”

I shuddered involuntarily. “That poor man—do you think he was a Jesuit?”

“The sheriff said as much, and it is they the Privy Council are after. Especially a priest named Edmund Campion.”

“I’ve never heard of him. Why are they afraid of him in particular?”

“Campion is a brilliant thinker, a natural leader. He is much loved by the people, even Protestants. Wherever he goes, Catholics arrive in droves to say their confessions to him and hear him preach.”

“Thomas disappeared before the burning. What was that about?”

“I do not know for certain, but I think Master Cook is our Jesuit priest. He dared not linger, in case the prisoner recognized him. When Thomas met us along the road, his face was pale and he said not a word.”

“So he’s not an Oxford professor after all.”

“He was probably educated at Oxford, as were many of the priests who left England. No, I believe that is the role he plays while here. We’ll find out for certain at Mass on Easter morning.”

“Are the Jesuits really so dangerous to the government?”

“The members of the Privy Council believe they’re in league with Spain to overthrow the government and put Mary, the Scots queen, on the throne. Treasonous acts. The Jesuits swear they come only to minister to their neglected flock.”

“Who do you believe?”

“I think the truth lies somewhere in between,” Stephen said, “as it so often does.”

My contempt for this era rose to the surface. “I guess your rulers don’t believe in freedom of religion.”

“Religious freedom is not a concept embraced by the queen and her Privy Council. One state, one religion. Things are different in these times. You know that.”

“Why is this Privy Council so powerful?”

“The council members are the queen’s closest advisors. Most are from the nobility.”

“So the Privy Council is after the Jesuits, and we have one living right here. Wonderful.”

In a soothing voice Stephen said, “Try not to worry. You must concentrate on your mission, which is to keep Will Shakespeare out of the clutches of the church. Let me worry about all the rest.”

He reached up and smoothed my hair away from my face. I ducked my head, feeling unexpectedly shy, and he swiftly withdrew his hand. When I looked up, there was a softness in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. I believed he’d told me the truth, as much of it as he himself knew.

“All right,” I said, feeling some of the pressure in my chest ease. “I’ll try.”

Good Friday was marked by eating hot cross buns for breakfast. Spiced with cloves and filled with currants, each round bun had a cross carved in its top. Bess brought me a basket of four; I scarfed down two and saved the rest for later. She told me it was customary for all the meals to be served in our rooms because it was such a solemn day.

I was restless, fidgety, so I decided to walk up and down the passage. All the sets of double doors were standing open. Although I saw no sign of Stephen, Copernicus loped over and joined me in pacing up and back. His claws made a soft clicking sound on the wood floors. “So, what would you do in my place, Cop?” He raised his head as though he was thinking it over.

“Should I go on with this crazy scheme, or try to get out of it somehow?” I could pretend to be sick. If Stephen thought my life was threatened, he’d send me back, I was sure. When we reached the staircase at the end of the passage, Copernicus halted. I turned; he stood where he was, whimpering. I walked back to him. “Yeah, I know this is crazy, boy, but I’m afraid it’s the only exercise we’ll be getting today.”

“Mistress Olivia,” a disembodied voice said.

I jumped and whirled around to see Will Shakespeare standing there. He must have come from his room at the far end of the passage. God, I hoped he hadn’t heard me.

“Master Will! I didn’t think anyone else was about.”

“Pray forgive me for startling you. I thought you would hear me approaching.”

“Nay, I did not.”
Probably because I was having a fascinating conversation with a dog
.

Will was holding a small, oblong parcel, which he now handed to me. “This is for you, mistress.”

I frowned, puzzled. “For me?”

“Aye. Open it, pray.”

I untied the string. The paper fell away to reveal a pair of leather gloves. “Oh! They’re beautiful, Will.” I smiled ruefully. “But I can’t possibly accept them.” I didn’t think an Elizabethan girl would accept such a personal gift, and I didn’t want to break any rules.

“Will you not even try them on?” he asked.

What could it hurt? “Very well.” I tugged one on, then the other. They fit perfectly, and I couldn’t help grinning up at him. “They’re so soft.” I stretched my fingers out and then fisted them, getting a feel for the shape and fit.

“You will do me a great service by keeping them.”

“But sir—”

He held up a hand. “Hear me out. My father, as I told you, is a glove maker. He bade me give these to Mistress Hoghton, though I made them myself.”

I was horrified. “Well, then, that’s even more reason why I can’t possibly keep them.” I started tugging them off.

“Have you noticed her hands?” When I shook my head, he went on. “They’re large and long fingered. This pair would never do for her. That’s why I want you to have them. That, and the fact that your hands were freezing yesterday.”

I stammered a little in my reply. “I-I’m very forgetful, I fear. I did not think to bring gloves with me, as the weather was fine when we set out.” I held out my hands and studied them. As gloves went, they were more serviceable than elegant, fashioned of brown leather, with a stamped fleur-de-lis at each wrist. One of them was a little crooked, proof that Will’s talents lay elsewhere. I decided there was no harm in accepting them if they wouldn’t fit Elizabeth.

“Thank you, Master Will. I confess my hands have been rather cold since I arrived here.”

“ ’Tis chilly inside these stone manor houses.” He took a step closer to me, and my heart sped up a little. Grasping one of my hands in his, he slowly smoothed the leather over each finger, sending a chill up my spine. Then he did the same with the other hand.

“Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek.”
The line from
Romeo and Juliet
jumped into my brain, and I wondered if any poet besides a glover’s son would have written it. I stared at him in awe, and dropped my gaze when he caught me.

“I thought you did not share your father’s work.”

“I grew up with the trade, watching my father, and when I was old enough, helping. As a young boy, I put tools and materials away and swept. Later I progressed to cutting tranks, and after many years was permitted to do everything from designing to sewing. I suppose it is how I knew I could not spend my life in such work.”

“Pardon me, but what are tranks?”

“I forget you will not be familiar with glover’s terms. Tranks are the forms one cuts from leather to make the gloves.” He lifted one of my hands again. “These are made of kidskin. Very supple, are they not?”

“Aye. I’m very grateful.” I felt weird. Under his spell. Something about the way he said “supple” … if not sensuous, it was definitely flirtatious. I brought my hand to his face and caressed his cheek. Wasn’t this exactly what I was supposed to be doing?

He smiled, eyes catching mine playfully, and leaned his head toward me. Just as he was about to kiss me, footsteps sounded behind us and I heard Stephen’s voice calling out.
Great timing, Langford
.

Will and I leaped apart. I quickly pulled the gloves off and held them at my side, and Will balled up the wrappings.

“Well met, Olivia, Will,” Stephen said when he reached us.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“Mass. ’Tis a strictly observed holy day. As you know,” he said, quickly covering up the fact that I actually didn’t know.

“All morning?”

“I broke my fast with our aunt and uncle afterward.”

“I should have attended,” I said.

“I did not want to wake you. After yesterday I thought you needed some extra rest.”

We all looked at each other in dismay, silently acknowledging the horror of what had happened, but knowing we didn’t want to discuss it.

“You were missed, Will. Thomas Cook asked after you.”

Shakespeare winced. “I’m afraid I fell so deeply into Ovid’s poetry, I lost all track of time. Until I heard Mistress Olivia.” He glanced at me. “Which reminds me, mistress. We must arrange a time for me to instruct you in the classics.”

“Indeed,” I said. “I am most eager to learn.”

Stephen had a funny look on his face. “I hope ’tis the
Metamorphoses
and not the
Amores
or
Ars Amatoria
from which you will be instructing my sister.”

“Oh, I promise to choose only the most moral and allegorical verses.”

Ugh
. That sounded boring. I’d much rather hear the love poetry. I had a feeling Will was needling Stephen with his innocent act.

“I shall hold you to that,” Stephen said, giving him a sidelong glance. “Do you care to go for a gallop with Fulke and me, Will?”

“Aye! Let me change. Shall I meet you at the stables?” Stephen nodded, and Will hurried toward his room.