to lean into the biting air. “Come up, my lord!” he bellowed, his words seeming to hang in the still air even as his breath did. Essex looked up and waved, then disappeared under the arch of the door.
Ralegh turned to his wife, bidding her to meet his guest, and to bespeak the servants for hot drink and more fuel for the fire. She smiled uncertainly at him for a moment, then went without a word. She grew more beautiful by the day, he reflected, and every day he loved her the more, never regretting an atom of the trouble their love had brought him at the hands of his jealous queen. He looked up from his thoughts to find Essex standing in the doorway.
Minutes later they were seated, Essex with his long legs stretched out to thaw his toes comfortably in the borrowed slippers while his damp boots dried. He fingered the pot-bellied pewter cup he held, grateful for the warmth of the mulled cider and mead that it held, but more than a little contemptuous of his host. He would never have served a guest, especially a rival, with such homely fare, he mused. But Ralegh did just as he pleased, and it seemed that what pleased him was a gossip cup and Banbury cake toasted at the fire. Sir Walter watched his guest begin to relax, and when the cake was finished he refilled the cups from the flagon on the hearth and offered a pipe, then settled back to listen, first with polite interest then growing horror as Essex related his tale.
“I realized as I rode from that scene of abomination what had struck me amiss with that account, Sir Walter. The blood was still running from that mangled fingertip, yet Percy spoke as if the lass had been seduced or abducted weeks ago. Hal has been much in the company of the prince, and has not spoken of anything unholy, or even untoward in the man, yet someone corrupted that young woman, and if not he, then who? I would see Kryštof brought low, it is true, but not—not like that. It is monstrous! Monstrous!
“I would have you speak to him, to warn him. You have toiled mightily these months past to bring Cecil and I into accord, and I would not be in your debt. I know that this man is a friend of yours, and I fear that Cecil will not be too particular in the evidence he sifts,” Essex added, rising from his seat. “I will go now to Hal, and warn him. And, Sir Walter, there is something amiss with that companion of Harry’s. He is like some fell, poisonous beast, and I shuddered when he touched that wench, defiled and mad as she was,” he finished, stamping his feet into his boots to emphasize his words. He turned on the threshold, with the charming smile that had won him so much and yet would cost him so dearly. “There was a time, Ralegh, when I thought that we could be friends. I am sometimes sorry that it was not to be.” He was gone before Ralegh, remembering those desperate hours at Cadiz, could reply. Sir Walter looked at the sky, and, judging that the snow would hold off for a few hours, called for his horse to be saddled. He would not ride to Chelsey, but to visit Harry Percy.
Percy received him with outward cordiality, but Sir Walter knew that he seethed inside at this interruption. Of what he might be interrupting, Ralegh did not care to think. Harry had wine brought to the study where he received his guest, but did not inquire whether or not he had yet supped. Ralegh stretched his hands to the mean little fire, ignoring the wine, which he knew from previous experience would be thin and sour. Everything about the man was shabby and mean, Sir Walter snorted to himself. He was one of the richest peers in England, but you would never know it, and yet there was a fine intellect there. He turned his attention to Harry, who asked him directly what had brought him.
Before he could answer the door burst open and a naked wench tumbled into the room, the meager firelight gleaming on her fine skin, marred here and there by bite-marks and bruises. She saw the stranger and rushed to him, wantonly shaking her ripe breasts close to his face, reaching for his crotch with one hand and