into the hall, looking for Geoffrey. He was standing before the fire, and in no better mood than I. Before I could open my mouth, he motioned me into the study.
“You will cease to involve yourself in the affairs of the earls of Southampton, and of Essex,” he said bluntly.
“But I—” I began.
“That is an order, not a request, Christopher.” Stunned, I turned to leave, but he took my shoulder and spun me about, pushing my back against the door. His eyes were like an icy dagger, glittering grey. All the years of frustration at being restricted, regarded as a child, exploded in me then, and I shoved him away, fumbling for the door-latch behind me. His blow came from my blind side, knocking me to the floor. I rolled to my feet, and blocked the next blow, but the strength of it caused me to stumble, and a third slap put me back on the floor. Geoffrey hauled me to my feet and shook me like a terrier with a rat. “You will not flout me, and you will do as I say,” he told me.
“May I speak?” I asked, choking on my anger and humiliation. He nodded. “I am not involved with Essex at all,” I told him. “My involvement with Hal, and with his wife, is of a personal nature. I do not intend to stop seeing them.”
“Personal? Then see that it remains so,” he said, coldly. “You must not dispute my custody, Christopher, and you must not contend with me. It is a battle you cannot win. I do not enjoy hurting you, but I will, to keep our family safe. Do you understand me?” I nodded, unable to speak. “Then, to show that all is forgiven between us, will you share my bed?” I nodded again, swallowing my pride, and followed him from the room. I knew it was his way of exerting his dominion over me; though that shamed me, I wanted him as I had wanted no other man, and would take whatever I could get. At least I understood, now, why Tom would so often goad me to violence before we coupled.
Christmas had come and gone and January was passing. Although Geoffrey and Rózsa were frequently to be found there, I had made only one visit to the court, accompanied by my family, as we presented our gifts to the Sovereign on Twelfth Night. Sylvie had attended Rózsa that night, as Richard attended me, and she had scandalized the court by darting forward with her own gift to the Queen. Elizabeth, who never forgot anything unless it suited her, remembered the vibrant serving-girl from their brief meeting some years before, and signaled that she should be allowed to approach. She accepted Sylvie’s gift, a little pomander filled with rose-petals and sweetbrier, and beautifully worked with a silken Tudor rose. Elizabeth thanked her gravely, and, tucking the sachet into her bodice, said it was the sweetest gift she had that night.
As they did each year, Geoffrey and Nicolas had presented, besides their more regular gifts, a sizable coffer of gold coin, with which they bought our freedom from persecution in the matter of our family’s non-attendance at the established church. I had given her a curious ivory and ebony fan from far Cathay that folded into what amounted to a small club, and the Queen made great use of it for the remainder of the night, finding it even more efficient than the flat kind for administering quick corrections.
Essex was not there, and had sent word that his health did not permit his participation, but rumor had it that it was the lack of an invitation that had caused his illness.
Chapter 26
On Twelfth Night, Richard had stayed as close to Kryštof ’s side as his menial position allowed. A heavy-set man, with regular features and light-brown close-cropped hair seemed to be watching his every move. Later, catching Richard’s eye, he nodded and smiled, the sweet and innocent smile of a child, and Richard had shuddered, happy to leave for home shortly thereafter. He started to tell Kit about the occurrence, but when he tried to put the thought into words it sounded silly.
In mid-January, while walking through the area around St. Paul’s, Richard was arrested without warning and brought before the Secretary Cecil in his austere office. Richard recognized the man waiting there, standing just inside the door when the guards had shoved him into the room, as the observer at the Twelfth