The Ringed Castle (10 page)

‘It is true, of course. Perhaps you have heard of Gavin, Sybilla’s late husband?’

Philippa nodded.

‘After Richard was born, Sybilla ended the marriage. In fact, if not by dissolution. Gavin would never divorce her. But the succession had to be secured. He made sure that there would be other children, and Sybilla recognized them in return for her privacy. Richard was born inside the marriage. The boy and the girl, Francis and his sister Eloise, were base born, of unknown mother or mothers in France, and Sybilla was there for each birth, and brought each child as her own back to Scotland. The pity was that she grew too fond, rearing them.’

‘And Marthe?’ said Philippa thinly.

The Abbess looked at her. ‘The child of your husband’s true mother, perhaps. I fear she had the happier part, being raised in her proper degree.… You are a girl of spirit.’

Thank you,’ said Philippa dimly.

‘But you would be all the better, I think, for some wine. Then, because of what you have heard, I am going to place you on oath. This matter is the concern of one person only: your husband.’

‘I know,’ said Philippa. ‘But I don’t know how I’m going to tell him.’

*

Word of what was happening in Russia was slow to travel westwards to Europe. Hercules Tait learned it, in Venice, where he received a
communication in educated handwriting which startled him somewhat and led him to cultivate assiduously his friend in the Council of Ten and thereafter to embark on a number of enjoyable letters.

The betting-shops were busy, as Mr Crawford would guess, about the fate of the Pope, Hercules Tait wrote. If age and disorderly living put an end to him, the French would lose a good ally. In England there was no other occupation at present but the cutting of heads, since Mary Tudor became Queen and brought back the old Catholic religion. The rebels from all the uprisings were fleeing as usual to France or to Germany or to Venice. The Queen’s rival William Courtenay was in prison again after fifteen years under duress, accused of trading cipher secrets engraved on the back of a guitar.…

The House of Commons, said Hercules Tait, had been begging the Queen not to proceed with her plan to marry Prince Philip of Spain, and had been violently rebuked by Queen Mary, saying she would consult with God on the matter and with nobody else; which greatly disturbed everybody. Even her friend Cardinal Pole had remarked that by the age she was, the Queen should content herself with the spouse who had always stood her in stead of a parent, he being God the Father.
It is doubtful however
, added Hercules Tait cheerfully,
whether this would produce an heir which the distrustful nature of her subjects would accept.…

Carried by many strange and subterranean hands, the letters from Venice passed all summer and autumn from Italy over land and sea into Moscow. Other packets travelled the same route from different beginnings. In Brussels an anonymous banker wrote that the old Emperor Charles was better of his long sickness, had revised his will and tried on his armour, and by August had taken the field against France. To the Duke of Alva, negotiating the royal wedding with England, the Emperor had written:
For the love of God see to it that my son behaves in the right manner, for otherwise I tell you I had rather never have taken the matter in hand in the first place
.

From the Comté of Sevigny which belonged to Francis Crawford in France, Nicholas Applegarth wrote:
The small Queen Mary of Scotland is twelve and out of her minority: they speak of a marriage to the Dauphin within four years from now. The Queen Dowager of Scotland writes to her brothers in France that she fears her new Spanish neighbour, if the Queen of England’s wedding takes place
.… And in July:
Philip of Spain still delays his coming to England, and they say the Queen is in despair and the Emperor his father is furious. Marienburg and Binche have fallen both to the French and the Emperor declares that six days after the wedding Philip must cross to Brussels and join him with money and troops. The Prince, they say, is wont to be much sick at sea.…

From Malta, letters from a Knight of St John called de Seurre; and from Greece and Turkey long epistles, with ribbons, from a wandering poet whose name was Míkál:
Dragut Rais is leading the armada of Suleiman from Turkey to attack the Emperor’s men in Florence and Corsica, so they say
.

And from a scholar of Guthrie’s acquaintance in England named Bartholomew Lychpole:
The Queen has ratified the marriage with Prince Philip and called God to witness that she has not consented to marry from any carnal affection or desire, nor from any motive but her kingdom’s honour and prosperity, and the repose and tranquillity of her subjects. All present
, the letter added in its broad, angular writing,
had tears in their eyes
.

The Queen has decided not to execute William Courtenay, and he has been allowed out of prison. The Queen’s half-sister the Lady Elizabeth has been released from the Tower, and the Stillyard merchants shot off cannon for joy when she passed, which displeased the Queen mightily
.

And in early August:
The Spanish marriage has taken place. The Prince has no English. The Queen speaks no Castilian, but understands it. The Spaniards he has brought with him are not impressed, and are heard to say openly that the Queen is a good creature, but rather older than they had been told, although if she dressed in their fashions she might not look so old and so flabby. At least, they conclude, the King of England
(
as he now styles himself
)
fully realizes that the marriage was concluded for no fleshly consideration, but in order to remedy the disorders of the kingdom and preserve the Low Countries
.

Much was made at the wedding of the Lady Margaret Douglas, Countess of Lennox, than whom there are few closer to the Queen Mary. She acted as Mistress of the Robes and Purse Bearer as well as First Lady, and had with her a fair son of eight, whom they call Henry, Lord Darnley
.

The letters moved backwards and forwards, but the secret of their destination was perfectly kept. Only the Countess of Lennox, cousin to Queen Mary, and mother of the fine son Lord Darnley, benefited from a hint dropped from the lips of Sir Thomas Wharton, who came by with Austin Grey one fine autumn morning, to pay the lady his manly respects.

A woman in her late thirties with King Henry’s political cleverness; and King Henry’s will; and King Henry’s fair and untouched physical splendour, the Lady Margaret received the news at first coolly. ‘Philippa Somerville has returned? A Northumberland family, I recall. With property adjoining Lord Allendale’s.’ Her voice had flattened a trifle. ‘The girl is of some importance?’

‘Not in herself,’ Sir Thomas said mildly. ‘Although the property, as you say, is fairly extensive. I was more concerned with her family
connections. You know she’s just spent a year with that Scots fellow Crawford of Lymond?’

‘Ah!’ said the Countess of Lennox. After a moment she said, ‘No. Poor, misguided child. I had not heard of this. Where did this happen?’

Tom Wharton’s voice, answering, clashed with Austin Grey’s, attempting apparently to remonstrate. Tom Wharton won. ‘In somewhat doubtful circumstances in the poorer parts of the Middle Sea, so I believe. It is said he went through a form of marriage with the girl. At least she claims to have papers.’

‘She has papers,’ said Austin Grey sharply. ‘Tom, you know as well as I do this was a regular marriage. They went through it as a matter of form. But it was a marriage.’

‘Well. She says it was a matter of form,’ said Thomas Wharton. He flicked the young Marquis on the arm. ‘Don’t get so excited. Your friends will make fun of you.’

Margaret Douglas said slowly, ‘Married? Francis Crawford is married to this farmer’s daughter from Hexham?’ Then without removing her fine eyes from Thomas Wharton, she added, ‘Why?’

Far better than Austin Grey she knew from years of experience how to conceal surprise or dismay or excitement, but even so, the effort behind her very detachment told Tom Wharton all he wanted to know. He said, ‘That we don’t know. But Flaw Valleys is very close to the Scots Border. And he has used it already in actions against my father in England.’

‘I remember,’ said Margaret Douglas. ‘Her father was Gideon Somerville. One of Lord Grey’s staunchest lieutenants through the Scottish wars and between them. He served with the Queen for a while.’

‘He is dead,’ Tom Wharton said. ‘There’s only his widow now at Flaw Valleys, and his only child, Philippa. I tell you, I shouldn’t like to see Flaw Valleys become the base for Francis Crawford’s activities. And that is what may well be the outcome.’

‘Tom, that’s nonsense,’ said Austin Grey. ‘The man isn’t even there. And she’s going to have the marriage annulled.’

‘How wise,’ said Margaret Douglas. ‘And where, then, is her importunate husband?’

‘She says,’ said Wharton, ‘she left him in Greece. Volos, I think. She travelled back alone with his son.’

There was a moment’s blank pause. Then the Countess of Lennox began, despite herself, to laugh. ‘His
son!
How many foolish extravagances has he permitted himself, on this odd peregrination? By whom? Philippa?’

‘The child is over two,’ said Austin Grey. He was a little pale. ‘In fact, Lady Lennox, Mr Crawford has disappeared and there is no
reason to think that he will ever come back to Scotland. As Tom has said, the marriage is to be dissolved. I really think you need have no misgivings about it.’

‘But,’ said Lady Lennox, ‘if he did come back, it might be quite serious. I think we should find out what is happening about the divorce. And whether in fact the child genuinely means to go through with it. How old is she? Fourteen?’

‘Seventeen, Lady Lennox,’ said Austin Grey.

He had displeased her. ‘Indeed,’ she said. And after a moment, ‘Old enough, then, for Court. Sir Thomas, is she presentable? If her parents were in the Queen’s household, she cannot be too rough in her ways.’

Thomas Wharton put his velvet-shod foot firmly on top of Austin Grey’s toes, and kept it there. ‘She would do at Court very nicely,’ he said. ‘She has an uncle somewhere in London. The Queen would remember the family.’

‘Then,’ said Lady Lennox, ‘I shall get the Queen’s permission tomorrow to invite her. And you shall take the summons with you Lord Allendale, when next you go north to the Somervilles. I take it you would have no objection to showing this girl how to conduct herself in the city?’

And Austin Grey, flushing, confirmed shortly that he would be pleased to escort Mistress Philippa Somerville in any way the Countess might indicate.

Philippa’s letter, stained with food and sea water, arrived in the Kremlin in September and was laid by a servant on the Voevoda’s carved desk in the palace granted to him and to his mistress by his sovereign prince, Ivan IV. It lay there, ranked with other papers and packets, neatly dated and docketed, awaiting the Voevoda’s attention. Crawford of Lymond, as demanded of his new office and title of Russian commander, was absent in the field with his officers; whether exercising or fighting, his household did not know.

Smoothly conducted by the Mistress’s small, white-fleshed hands, the business of the luxurious house continued without cease. The Mistress’s riches were unpacked; the carpets laid; the tapestries hung, the books and paintings displayed; the lute and harpsichord uncrated and placed in the new rooms designed and built to her orders so that the strict timber edifice, raised in a cleared space near the Nikólskaya Tower for some dead appanaged prince, had gathered wings and balconies and galleried gables linked with steepled porches and bridges and stairs, tooled and painted and fretted like a gingerbread mould.

Outside, Güzel’s house was pure Russian. Inside, it was Venetian and Arab and Turkish, from the Murano glass and silk hangings to the silver incense burner and the blue and yellow tiles on the floor of the hot room where the lord of the house might strip off the stiff leather and steel of two weeks’ campaigning and emerge, bathed and rested, in the fresh robes made for him from the velvets and damasks in her embroidery rooms.

Those who lived in the Kremlin, whose wives walked veiled to church and to weddings and, surrounded by slaves and by stewards, took part in public life not at all, watched the foreign princess secretly; defensively; consumed by an envious and frantic curiosity. Güzel, knowledgeable in the ways of both men and women and accustomed to ruling, steel within silk, the still greater establishment of the Stamboul harem, made no inexpedient advances but waited, allowing her visiting tradesmen and craftsmen to glimpse and be astounded by the tall Gothic splendours of her Nürnberg clock, and the fragile and unimaginable mystery of the Italian harpsichord.

On the day the Tsaritsa’s chief lady in waiting called on her, Güzel’s house was ablaze with wax lights and hung with the smells of jasmine and the almond and sugars of sweetmeats. She saw the kitchens and the serving rooms, and met Master Gorius Grossmeyer, Güzel’s German physician. Two days later, Güzel received the first
ceremonial visit from Anastasia herself and was able to present her with the silk robe, re-embroidered with crystals and bullion, which her woman had made for the new son Ivan, then four months old, and to invite her to consult with her doctor.

The following day, Güzel was received by Anastasia in the Golden Rooms at the palace of Terems, bringing some lengths of deep crimson velvet and a covered basket of sweet cakes, borne by her serving woman. There she met the whole household of women, including the widowed Tartar Queen Suunbeka and her son, brought as willing hostage to Moscow after the Tsar’s victory over the Tartar stronghold of Kazan. She met too the wives of the princes, who soon visited her and were visited in their turn. But most of Güzel’s time, from then onwards, was divided between the house she controlled and the palace.

Whether the Voevoda knew what was happening, and what place, indeed, he had in this intriguing establishment, was something that the curious ladies of the Terems were unable to discover. That the two were unmarried was ascertained at the beginning. So also was the certainty, though from what source no one knew, that it was Güzel who had brought to the Tsar this inestimable band of Western trained soldiers, and that it was her resources which had furnished both the journey and the splendours of the residence which he shared.