Christmas At The Tudor Court: The Queen's Christmas Summons / The Warrior's Winter Bride

He sat down on the stool near the fire and went very still as she eased back the laces of his borrowed shirt and unwound the old dressings. He was warm now, but from the fire and not fever, and his skin was so deliciously golden she longed to touch it, to feel the silken heat of him under her fingers. If she closed her eyes, she could picture exactly what it would be like to do, to breathe in the scent of him, and lean closer and closer until...

Nay! She had to focus on her tasks, not on things that were impossible.

‘Tell me of your days here,’ he said quietly.

Alys smiled. His wound was healing well, no streaks of reddened infection at all. She smoothed on the new poultice, trying not to linger. ‘They are dull indeed, especially compared to what you must have known in your travels. Sometimes, when my father has visitors, I must play hostess to them in the great hall, but that is not often. I go to market in the village, I oversee the laundry and the kitchens, I work in my stillroom...’

‘Where you learned your great knowledge of healing herbs?’

‘My mother taught me. The stillroom is my little sanctuary.’

‘Your sanctuary from what?’

Alys shook her head. ‘I should have not said that. Dunboyton is not so terrible as all that. But sometimes I have to escape the quarrels of the maidservants. They do find an extraordinary number of things to disagree about. Or escape from doing the same things every day. The stillroom is always quiet and it smells lovely...’

‘So that is where you get it.’

She looked up at him, confused, and found him smiling down at her. ‘Get...what?’

‘You smell so lovely, Lady Alys. Like a meadow in the summertime.’ He caught up her loosened strand of hair and lifted it to his nose to smell it. It was as if he inhaled all of her, all she was and knew.

She felt her cheeks turn warm and pulled away. Her hair slid between his fingers. ‘ʼTis lavender and rosewater.’

‘Is that what you are using to heal me, too?’ he said, gesturing to the herbs in her basket.

Alys was most glad of the change of subject. ‘I doubt rosewater would help you, though a rosehip syrup couldn’t hurt. This is feverfew and yarrow, to bring down your fever. And I will give you some valerian for your wine for tonight, to help you sleep and purify your blood.’

He was silent for a moment, studying the dried and powdered herbs as she pointed to them. ‘So when do you read, if you are so busy gathering your herbs and physicking everyone? When you walk here to the abbey?’

‘Sometimes. The abbey is a bit like the stillroom—an escape. It isn’t often we get new books here and I like to savour them with no one to interrupt me.’

‘And what do you read? Poetry? History?’

Alys bit her lip, afraid he would think her rather—unfeminine. ‘Whatever I can find. I read my prayer books, of course, and histories of England. I do love poetry, tales of adventure and romance. When we receive French volumes, they are the best, but that’s a rare treat. And I like reading of courtly life. I want to...’

His head tilted as he studied her. ‘Want to what?’

‘Well, imagine what life is like there, I suppose, at the Queen’s court. What it would be like to meet her, serve her, see people from foreign lands. The fashions, the music. My father often shows me drawings of London and I would like to see it for myself.’

‘Will he send you to court as a Maid of Honour, perhaps?’

Alys thought of all the letters that had come to her father, all the messages refusing to summon him to court because of his Spanish wife. She feared a palace life could never be hers. ‘Perhaps one day.’

‘I am surprised you are not yet married.’

His voice sounded tight when he said the words and she glanced up to see a flash of something like jealousy cross his face. Or perhaps that was her wishful imagining. ‘I have not thought about it. I think I would rather go to court for a time before I must go from managing Dunboyton to another household just like it. I am not so very old as that yet.’ Though it was true many girls younger than she were wed here in Ireland, she had met no one she would even consider as husband.

She feared no man would measure up to Juan now, either. It was a great pity.

He laughed. ‘You are not so old at all, Lady Alys. And I do understand your wishes.’

She thought of all the places he had been, all his adventures. She could not picture him quiet by his own hearth. ‘I am sure you do, or surely you would not have gone on such dangerous travels.’ Or put himself so near death. She shivered at the thought of how close he had come.

‘Royal courts are glittering places indeed,’ he said. ‘But a lady such as you should never stay there long. There can be many dangers there.’

Alys laughed. ‘I told you, Juan—I am no delicate angel. I am sure that, given time and instruction, I could find my way.’

‘I am sure you could do anything you set your mind to, Lady Alys. But I must disagree with one thing. You are most assuredly an angel.’

He reached for her hand, raising it to his lips for a gentle kiss as courtly as any she could imagine receiving in a palace. His lips were soft against her skin, and lingered in a sweet caress. Alys leaned closer, drawn to him as she would be to a fire on a cold night, as if his touch was necessary to her very breath. He looked up at her, his eyes so very, very green...

And suddenly something dropped down from the thatched roof above them, something long and horribly shimmering. It landed on Juan’s shoulder and fell to the ground, rearing up to bare sharp, needle-like fangs.

‘A snake!’ Alys cried. How was that possible? She had never even seen a snake at Dunboyton and here was one right at her feet, about to strike. She felt paralysed, staring down at it, as if time had slowed to a terrible crawl.

But it never struck. Juan tossed a dagger at it, quick as flash of lightning and with unerring aim. The blade sank deep in the viper’s neck and it fell to the dirt floor with a hiss.

Juan sucked in a deep breath. ‘You did not warn me I shared my accommodations.’

Alys swallowed hard, trying to find her voice. ‘I—I have never seen such a thing here before. They say St Patrick drove all snakes away from here.’

‘He obviously missed some.’

Alys choked on a laugh, even as she shivered with a sudden fear. Was the snake a terrible sign? A warning?

What evils would befall her, and Dunboyton, if she did not heed it?

* * *

Alys ran up the path towards the gates of Dunboyton, as fast as if even more snakes chased at the hem of her skirts. She was so distracted when she returned to the castle that she didn’t notice the servants and her father’s soldiers hurrying past, didn’t notice the usual clamour and bustle that always surrounded mealtimes. She didn’t notice the wind that cut through her cloak as it swept around the courtyard.

All she could see in her mind was Juan, the tenderness of his touch as he reached for her hair, the sweetness of his kiss on her hand. The fierce, quick strength when he killed the snake. The glow of his beautiful eyes.

At the foot of the stone steps that led to the inner door, she did notice something out of place—a fine grey horse that did not belong to the Dunboyton stable. It stood at attention, the centre of a circle of gaping grooms, its silver-and-green velvet trappings shimmering. It was too fine for anyone Alys knew nearby. Could it be that Bingham or even Fitzwilliam had returned, searching for Juan?

Pushing down her fear, she ran into the house and, after she hid her baskets and cloak in the stillroom, went to find her father in the great hall. She had been worried about him of late, worried about how tired he seemed, but now he was talking with great animation, even a smile, to the man who sat next to him beside the fireplace.

She didn’t know the man, but she could tell at a glance he must be someone of some consequence. He was tall and lean, with the erect bearing of a soldier, his thick iron-grey hair brushed back from austere, hawk-like features. He wore travelling clothes of the finest grey wool and velvet, a cloak of green velvet that matched the horse’s trappings spread before the fire to dry.

‘Oh, Alys, there you are,’ her father called. ‘A guest has just arrived this afternoon.’

Alys made her way forward as their visitor rose and gave her a bow. Standing, he was even taller, more imposing, even while dressed so simply and sombrely. He seemed to notice everything around him in one quick glance with his grey eyes and Alys was suddenly aware of how windblown and flustered she must look. She pushed the loose lock of hair back into its pins and smoothed her red-wool skirts.

‘I am sorry I wasn’t here to greet you, sir,’ she said. ‘I had some tasks in the outbuildings and did not know anyone was expected.’

‘’Tis of no matter, my lady,’ he answered, his tone perfectly civil and soft. ‘I did not expect to stop here on my journey. I have spent a most pleasant hour with Sir William, hearing all about this most intriguing place.’

‘Alys, my dear, this is Sir Matthew Morgan, an agent from the Queen’s court. We knew each other long ago, when I was at Cambridge, and it’s an unexpected pleasure to see him again. Sir Matthew, this is my daughter, Lady Alys.’

The Queen’s agent? Would they send someone like this to track down fleeing Spanish sailors? Alys could think of no other reason he would be there and knew she had to warn Juan. But for now, faced with those sombre grey eyes that seemed to see too much, she had to stay calm and polite. To give nothing away.

‘I am most pleased to meet you, Sir Matthew. My father often speaks so fondly of his days at Cambridge, and to see a new face at Dunboyton is always most welcome, though I fear you will find us much less than “intriguing”. Our days are usually quite dull.’ She gestured to one of the servants to bring more wine, and sat down on the cushioned stool next to her father. Their guest resumed his seat across from them, smiling pleasantly. But Alys could not quite shake away that lingering fear.

‘Not dull in recent days, I fear,’ Sir Matthew said.

‘Unfortunately not,’ her father answered. ‘I much prefer my quiet routine. But Bingham has taken his men off along the coast now, he won’t come back here any time soon. We saw only two ships break up in the bay below our cliffs and he dragged away the few survivors.’

‘Is it Bingham you seek, then, Sir Matthew?’ Alys asked, pouring out the fresh wine.

‘I would like to speak with him, of course,’ Sir Matthew said. ‘He has much to answer for to the Queen. My task now is to make some sense of what has happened here for an account to Her Majesty. She wishes to be sure any valuable survivors are questioned by her own men and kept here in honourable imprisonment until they can be ransomed back to Spain. They say there were many men of the most noble families in Spain and Portugal aboard these ships. England cannot face such an invasion again, but neither can she be seen to be unmerciful.’

Alys bit her lip, thinking of how she had found Juan, ill and injured, freezing in the reeds. And he was the fortunate one. She couldn’t let him be found now.

‘I am afraid we can be of little help to you here, Matthew,’ her father said. ‘Bingham did not linger here long and, as far as I know, he took only one valuable prisoner, a nobleman named Perez. Many were killed and my men could not stop it, I am ashamed to say.’

Sir Matthew took a slow sip of the wine, his austere face completely unreadable. ‘One of the ships that went down near here was called the Concepción, I believe. A valuable galleon of the Biscay Squadron.’

‘Aye, they did say that was one. The other is yet unknown,’ her father said.

‘I would like to question your household, with your permission,’ Sir Matthew said. ‘Many times people witness something of great import and do not even realise it. I must be as thorough as I can in my report, not an easy task after time has gone past.’

‘Of course,’ her father answered, though his expression looked rather reluctant. He had been governor of Dunboyton for many years and Alys knew how protective he was of all his household.

‘I shall not be more than a day or two, William, and will go gently,’ Sir Matthew said.

‘You must stay with us, then,’ Alys said. ‘I will have the maids air the chamber here above the great hall—I fear it is seldom used. There is a sitting room, too, which you can use for your enquiries.’

‘I am most grateful for the hospitality, Lady Alys,’ Sir Matthew said. ‘I have been sleeping in the saddle for too many days now.’

‘Then, over dinner, you must tell me all about the Queen’s court,’ Alys said with a smile. Perhaps she could lure a titbit of information from him, if she was careful. Something that might tell her what he really sought at Dunboyton. ‘I am so eager to hear all about it all! It must be so magical.’

Her father chuckled. ‘Alys is quite obsessed with the latest fashions and dances.’

Sir Matthew smiled indulgently. ‘I fear I am not a dancing man myself, but I will tell you all I can remember from the royal banquets. I have the feeling, though, that ruffs and sleeves are not quite all that interests you, Lady Alys.’

Alys tried to cover her surprise with a quick smile of her own. ‘If you know anything of new embroidery patterns at all...’

He laughed and held out his goblet for more wine. ‘Now there, I would be of no help at all.’

‘Well, your company is welcome none the less, Sir Matthew,’ Alys said and rose to her feet as slowly as she could. She couldn’t go running away now. ‘If you will excuse me, I shall see to your chamber.’

As she made her way out of the great hall, she heard her father say, ‘My poor daughter. It is a lonely life here at Dunboyton. I have been trying to secure a place for her at court for some time.’

‘She would grace it with her presence, she is quite pretty,’ Sir Matthew answered. ‘And with all your services to the Queen, especially of late, there should be no difficulty. Any who have aided in the defeat of the Armada will be rewarded. Perhaps I could be of some help?’

Alys hurried away before she could hear her father’s answer. A bribe of sorts, to find information from her father? Alys did not quite trust Sir Matthew, despite his polite smiles. She had to make her way back to Juan soon and warn him the Queen’s men were here. He deserved the chance to go to them himself and tell them his tale, if her suspicions of his spying activity were correct.

And if she was wrong about him, about everything—she was in too much trouble for even a position at the Queen’s court to fix.

Chapter Eight

‘There. What do you think?’ Alys asked, balancing carefully on the stool as she tied the painted cloth to the wall of the old dairy. The bright colours of the scene seemed to make the dim, dank little room a bit more vivid, a bit less dreary. ‘I don’t think anyone could recover their health in such darkness, with nothing pretty to look at.’

Juan laughed. ‘I have recovered my health completely, thanks to my ministering angel. And you have made a cosy little home here in such little time. I’ve never lived anywhere so comfortable.’

Alys studied the room, which she had tidied and feathered with new cushions, blankets and the cloth. It was rather cosy, she thought, and not a bad place to recover a measure of health, but she doubted it was the best place he had ever lived, not after being in so many fine cities. ‘I don’t think that can be true—have you not visited palaces and such?’

‘Oh, nay, I assure you—it is by far the best.’ He took her hand to help her down from the stool and his touch was warm on her skin. She hated to let him go. They sat down together on the newly cushioned stools, near the teetering stacks of books she had loaned him to pass the time. ‘Palaces, though certainly grand in their state rooms, are small, cramped and damp in their accommodations. They are old places, by and large, and cold even in summer. Not to mention crowded and smelly. Here I have this space all to myself and may read and think all day. I can’t remember ever having such luxuries.’

‘I think I should still like to see a palace, even if they’re cold and cramped!’ Alys said. ‘Dunboyton is very old and often dank, and always crowded, but we have no marble pillars and fine carpets to look at, such as the Queen must possess. There must be amusements there we don’t have, as well.’

‘There are amusements, true,’ Juan said. ‘Banquets and dancing almost every night, and in the summer there are often river pageants and picnics, hunts, ceremonies to welcome foreign ambassadors, always music and fine food.’

Alys sighed happily to envision it, a crowd of velvet-clad courtiers dancing under gilded ceilings. ‘It would be lovely to see new people sometimes, not always the same faces all the time.’

‘You must have gatherings here? Dancing and music?’

‘We do dance here, especially at Christmas,’ she said. ‘But I am sure it can’t be nearly as elegant as the courtly dances.’

‘Well, shall we compare them?’ Juan said. He rose to his feet and offered her his hand as he gave a bow.

Alys laughed at the contrast between his elaborate bow, low over his outstretched leg, and his rough borrowed clothes, their simple surroundings. ‘Compare?’

‘Aye. You must imagine you are in the Queen’s own hall. There is the dais where sits her velvet-and-gilt throne, an embroidered canopy of state over it. And there are the carved panels of the wall, the cabinet piled high with glittering gold-and-silver plate. The musicians are in their gallery above our heads, playing a royal galliard on their lutes and drums. All the courtiers are taking their places. Now, my lady, will you honour me with this dance?’

Alys dipped into a low curtsy. ‘I shall, kind sir.’

He took her hand in his and led her to the empty centre of their little room. His touch was warm on her fingers, slightly rough from his work on the ships, and for a moment she imagined they were in a palace. That she was surrounded by velvet and satin gowns, tapestries sparkling with gold thread, the scent of rich, flowery perfumes. That she herself wore bright silk and flashing jewels.

‘Now, imagine the music like this,’ Juan said, and hummed a few bars. ‘One, two, one, two, three, three. Right, left, right, left and jump, landing with one leg ahead of the other. Like so.’

He showed her the patterns slowly at first, then quicker as she followed, his movements as lithe as a mountain lynx. Alys saw it was not so very different from their Dunboyton dances, and she copied him, landing with a little twirl. She hoped against hope he thought she was almost as graceful as those court ladies.

‘Very good,’ he said with a laugh. ‘Are you sure you have not done courtly dances before?’

‘You must be a fine teacher,’ she answered with a teasing smile.

‘We shall see when you dance before the Queen,’ he said, holding her hand up as she made another little twirl. ‘Now, let go of my hand and face me, like this.’

She came to a stop close to him, mere inches from his shoulder. She didn’t dare to look up at him, into those magical eyes. The warmth of his nearness made her breath catch. ‘Now—now what?’

‘I put my hand on your waist, like this,’ he answered hoarsely as his hand landed lightly on her waist. ‘You touch my shoulder and we turn.’

They spun around each other, slowly at first, their steps twining around each other, perfectly matched, as if they had always danced just like that. Alys held on to his strong shoulder, letting him guide her, trusting him.

But then she got ahead of him and his leg tangled in her skirt. She felt herself tip off balance, toppling towards the floor. She caught at his shoulders, her stomach lurching, and he swung her up high in the air.

Alys laughed, her head floating giddily. ‘Is this part of the dance?’

‘It is now! Our own new step.’ He twirled her around and around, as if she was a mere feather, and indeed she felt like one. Like she floated free high above the world.

She laughed helplessly until her sides ached and tears prickled at her eyes. She couldn’t remember ever laughing so much, or ever being with anyone who made her feel as Juan did—free and light, as if she could be herself for a moment. Their strange, rough little refuge seemed changed entirely to a fairyland.

‘Oh, stop, stop!’ she cried, her feelings overwhelming her.

He lowered her slowly to her feet, but it still felt as if the room spun around them. She clung to him, gasping with laughter. She hadn’t felt so free since she was a child!

‘I think we could start a new fashion in dancing,’ he said, his voice thick with his own laughter.

For an instant, Alys imagined what it might be like to be at court with him. Walking on his arm past those crowds of richly clad people, knowing he was hers and she his. Shyly, she glanced up at him and she was shocked to see he had dropped his careful mask. She glimpsed a stark, naked longing in his eyes, a haunted pain.

Then it was gone, banished behind laughter. He stepped away and bowed again.

Alys fell back a step and rubbed at her arms, suddenly cold again.

‘Thank you for the dance, my lady,’ he said. ‘I think you are quite ready to impress the Queen.’

‘I do doubt it,’ she murmured. She turned away from him, flustered. ‘It—it is cold in here, is it not? I shall bring more blankets when I come back.’

‘I am perfectly comfortable here, Lady Alys,’ he said. ‘You have made it like a true home.’

She glanced around and found that everything did look different than it had only days before, a new place of colour and interest. He made it so; he made the world look different, made her imagine different things, a different life. If only it could be so.

‘I must go now, or I’ll be missed,’ she said. ‘But I will return later.’

He reached for her hand, holding it lightly balanced on his palm as he raised it to his lips. His kiss was warm, soft and light as a cloud and it made her tremble. ‘Thank you, my fair rescuer,’ he whispered.

Alys couldn’t answer. She spun around and hurried out of the room, catching up her shawl to wrap it tightly around her shoulders. The wind outside was chilly, but she welcomed its cold brush against her face. It helped steady her, helped wash away the clouds of dreams that had dared to come into her mind. Dreams of court life, of romance, of dances and kisses. With Juan.

‘Don’t be so silly,’ she told herself as she hurried along the cliffs towards home. Those moments with Juan were only that, dreams, and soon enough they would be gone. But she knew, deep inside, that she herself would never be quite the same again.

Chapter Nine

Alys tiptoed out of the castle, holding a basket of fresh supplies on her hip. It was growing late, the servants were at their own supper in the kitchens, her father was in his chamber and she had not seen their mysterious guest since their own dinner. It seemed a good time to go to Juan, with the risen moon lighting her path.

She felt a fizzing excitement as she made her way towards the abbey and it made her want to laugh and cry all at the same time. Looking forward to seeing him made her feel alive, in a way she never had before. She dreaded what it would be like when he left again, as he surely would very soon. Dunboyton would be quiet once more, her days filled with her household routines.

Yet she would have memories of him to go over in years to come. That would be enough. It had to be enough.

Alys paused at the top of the cliff steps to shift her basket. It had grown heavier with the climb. The moon shimmered with a silvery glow on the old stones of the abbey, turning their ruin into something jewel-like and magical. It seemed like a night when fairies might appear, when anything could happen.

For an instant, she thought she heard something, a rustle or a footstep.