Chapter 6

Matthew Hawkhurst sailed slowly down the coast of Devon. He dropped anchor at Tintagel to show Sabre the legendary castle that was said to have been King Arthur's. They rounded Land's End and again he anchored at the quaint seaport of Mousehole for Sabre's amusement. He used every delaying tactic he could think of. He knew Shane had been commanded to go on progress with the queen, and he didn't intend to deliver Sabre to Greenwich until the second day of July.

Shane Hawkhurst, knowing the queen would depart on her progress July first, also dallied on his return trip to court. The last thing he wanted was to leave London; he had too many contacts to meet. He delayed his departure from Devonport another week to assure himself that Georgiana would be all right and to avoid Elizabeth's departure.

Both Hawkhurst brothers miscalculated by one day. Her Majesty's progress had been planned for the county of Norfolk, ending at Norwich in East Anglia. Her first stop was to be at Theobalds, Cecil's country house just outside London. Her usher of the Black Rod was sent ahead to make all the necessary preparations for the queen and her court. Her ladies had been to Theobalds before and had been appalled at the accommodations available. Though the queen's apartments were lavishly luxurious, her ladies of the privy chamber were crammed into one room with the lesser servants, and her male courtiers were crammed into another.

Dismayed to find Bess was only just leaving for Theobalds, Lord Devonport seized upon the appallingly in adequate accommodations as his excuse to join the progress when it moved to the castle at Bishop's Stortford. Hawkhurst seldom occupied his permanent rooms on the fourth floor at Greenwich because he had a London residence of his own along the Thames, but he and the baron intended to stay there the next few days, as there were apartments he wished to search, once their occupants had left on the progress.

Sabre couldn't believe the crush of people at Greenwich, not only in the palace, but in the park and the courtyard and stables. It reminded her of a fair she had attended once where jugglers and players put on a fine show for the townspeople. The clothes were so colorful and exaggerated, they seemed like costumes. Everyone had a purpose and went about it noisily with little or no thought for the next man.

Matthew promised to look after the stabling of Sabbath and keep her two trunks until she returned from Lady Ashford's. There would be room aplenty for them in the palace when everyone accompanying Her Majesty had departed. Sabre missed seeing the queen by half an hour, as she had already departed for Theobalds; however, there was a backup of her baggage train and attendants, and in turn their luggage and servants. She despaired of finding Lady Kate Ashford in the throng, for it seemed people were too busy to give her more than vague directions at best.

The halls and corridors of the palace were most confusing to Sabre. She went right, then left, then right again, ascending at least three flights of stairs in her search for her aunt. Finally a young page, curious about the new face, ushered her to the rooms where the queen's wardrobe was housed, and she came face-to-face with a woman who looked considerably older than she remembered. The two women stared at each other rudely for the space of about two minutes, then Sabre took a deep breath and ventured, "Lady Ashford? … Aunt Kate?"

The tall woman, who at one time must have been quite handsome, ruefully pursed her lips and said bluntly, "So, they stuck me with the redhead after all!"

"I'm afraid so," said Sabre, mirroring her aunt's rueful expression.

Suddenly Kate's eyes gleamed with a hint of humor. "In chapel this morning I asked both God and the devil to send me an extra pair of hands … it looks like one of them has complied!"

Sabre smiled and dropped her a curtsy; she knew they would be able to get along tolerably well together.

Kate Ashford talked incessantly. She never shut up. She was a well of information, advice, instruction, and gossip, and she set about Sabre's education with a vengeance. "Actually, you couldn't have arrived at a better time. The queen has gone on progress and left me behind to clean and refurbish all the wardrobe she didn't take with her. A vast undertaking," she said, shaking her head. "Her Majesty has at least two hundred gowns— and that's just at Greenwich … same thing at Windsor and Hampton Court." Her sentences ran into one another, allowing Sabre only space enough to nod her understanding.

"Faugh! The palace stenches. Let's get these windows open. These progresses are ostensibly so her people can see her at every little country burgh along the way, but in reality the progress was designed to empty this place, which has housed fifteen hundred bodies all winter—fifteen hundred unwashed bodies, by the reek of it," she said, wrinkling her nose. "By God's feet, they had better get the privies emptied before the weather gets any hotter, or we will all be down with the plague!" She scarcely reached for a breath before going back to the subject of her own responsibilities. "It's not only the dresses, it's the underpinnings, the shoes, the jewelry to be cleaned and repaired, to say nothing of the wigs!" She said the last word in a loud stage whisper and rolled her eyes. "I've two assistants who between them haven't the brains of a louse. At least you look as if you might have initiative. I shall have to pay you out of my own household purse. Of course, the palace will provide your room and board, so eat until you positively groan, 'tis the only thing you'll ever get out of her. She's so tightfisted she'd cut a raisin in half! That's another advantage of a progress, d'ye see? The poor bloody gentry she visits get stuck scouring their countryside and neighbors to feed and entertain over a thousand people, and all so she'll dance in their bloody manor houses. Well, enough of this chatter. I'll give you one of our chambers, it will only be a tiny space, but at least it will have a bed and a window, which is a luxury in itself. Would you believe there are rooms without windows at Greenwich? Now you'll be on the third floor, so get your bearings … Sara, is it?"

"No, ma'am. I am called Sabre … Sabre Wilde."

Kate gave her a penetrating look. "Ah, yes, I remember now." Kate took her to the small room on the third floor and instructed, "As soon as you get settled, come back down to the wardrobe and I'll put you to work. The dresses need sponging—under the arms—sweat stains you won't believe! And that damned white paste she daubs all over her face; 'tis made of egg white, alum, and borax. Borax is hell to clean off ruffs and … wigs." Again she whispered the dreaded word.

Now that she was alone for a few minutes, Sabre adjusted herself to the smallness of the room. There was at least a comfortable bed with decent covers. There was a cupboard built into the corner to hold her dresses, and a small washstand with bowl and pitcher, and the cupboard beneath the bowl held a chamber pot. By far what made the room habitable were the tall windows that reached from floor to ceiling. She grasped the window handle, pushed it open, and stepped out onto a tiny stone balcony. She pulled back the heavy drapes as far as they would go and left the window open to air the room; this high up from the ground she needn't worry about intruders.

Again she needed the services of a page to direct her back to the stables, where it took her another half hour to find Matthew. He took her trunks up to the tiny chamber, then they faced each other and said in unison, "I don't think we'd better be seen together." They laughed, reading each other's thoughts, and Sabre said, "When we meet we must pretend it is for the first time. If anyone asks about me, all you know is that I am Lady Kate Ashford's niece. Now, I suppose you must have business with the high-and-mighty Lord Devonport, and if the knave is curious as to what his wife looks like, tell him I am toothless, cross-eyed, and positively avid to have him dash up to Blackmoor to bed me!"

"Oh, I won't have to worry about Hawk for a while," he said airily. "He's gone on progress with the queen."

Sabre's face fell. Damn the man, dancing attendance upon a woman whenever she crooked her finger at him, merely because she was a queen. Well, before she was finished with him, he'd dance for her, dance as pretty as a corpse on the end of a hangman's rope!

Sabre didn't bother to unpack her trunks, as she felt she had neglected her aunt as long as she dared. These first few days she would work hard to gain Kate's respect and secure her position. She would absorb everything like a sponge, and what better teacher than the talkative mistress of the queen's robes?

"There you are, child," welcomed Kate in her deep voice. "I've already sorted out the busks and petticoats and ruffs for the laundry maids. I have to keep an accurate tally, you know. The blasted wenches would steal me blind otherwise. You see, every article of the queen's underclothing is embroidered with her monogram, Elizabeth Regina, and a crown, see? They'd be flogging them in the back streets—ten pounds for the queen's drawers —can't you picture it? So one of our responsibilities is output and input; it must tally exactly. Now you start sponging these gowns. Some of the more elaborate sleeves are detachable. In a few days we will go over them all again to sew on the jewels and beads that are ready to fall off. Now, I've just to check on the girls I set to cleaning Her Majesty's wardrobe of shoes, slippers, and boots. She has over five hundred pairs, you know."

Sabre's mouth fell slightly open at such extravagance. She herself owned a pair of small riding boots for outdoors and a pair of soft black leather slippers for indoors. Sabre sat herself upon a stool and took a soft soapy cloth and began to clean the queen's gowns. The bodices were stained with food, wine, sweat, and cosmetics, while the skirts were soiled with mud, dust, and even stable droppings.

When Kate returned she took up a stool next to Sabre and worked on the gowns diligently.

"I've never seen such rich, ornate garments in my life," said Sabre, stroking the jewel-encrusted velvet.

"The court must encapsulate the majesty and mystique of the monarchy. A great queen must have a setting worthy of her. Its visual impact must be stunning. Her ladies are supposed to act as mere foils so that the queen stands out in sharp relief. Let me warn you … the merest hint that their attractions exceed her own sets Her Majesty aflame, and our sovereign in full temper is an awesome sight to behold and terrible to suffer. She is moody, demanding, and her temper is alarmingly erratic. Occasionally she beats her ladies, but usually her assaults are purely verbal. She has a sarcastic tongue and a withering wit, which makes her an object of terror. Her ladies are required to wear white or other insipid hues so that these bejeweled ensembles appear to best effect. None must eclipse her. All must sublimate their individuality in order to glorify the cult of Gloriana!"

"You hate her?" It was more a statement than a question.

Kate looked up and blinked rapidly. "Nay, that would be treason. We love her."

"But if she reduces everyone to tears and makes life unbearable, why do ladies vie for positions at court?" asked Sabre.

"Ah, but she is multifaceted, do you not see? She is often kind and gracious. She can be affable, familiar, and friendly; beguiling, even. Her smiles and endearments can warm your heart. She never bores you. She casts a golden spell over all. Women cannot resist the siren song of her court. Besides, where else are the pickings so good to find a rich man?"

Sabre laughed at her aunt's wicked humor. She spoke the bloody unvarnished truth!

The palace population had thinned down to a few hundred servants and a handful of courtiers by the time Kate took Sabre along to the dining hall. There was no lack of dishes even though the queen wasn't in residence. If anything, the wine flowed more freely and the trestle tables groaned under their burden of food.

"Usually after supper there are masques and balls on special feast days, and dancing and cards until midnight on ordinary days, but of course there will be nothing going on tonight. I, for one, am grateful. I shall be happy to lay my weary bones in my bed this night."

"It has been a long day for me too. Aunt Kate, I appreciate what you have done for me," Sabre said quietly.

"Pshaw, child, 'tis a pleasure to have a new pair of ears to bend. Rumor has it I like the sound of my own voice." She laughed and patted Sabre on the shoulder. "Shall we go upstairs now?"

Sabre was glad to have Kate accompany her, because for the life of her she could not tell one corridor from another. In her small chamber she was relieved to be alone. She was also relieved that she had her first day behind her; she had made a good start. Now she saw it was an advantage to have the queen away, for it would give her time to become familiar with the palace and its workings before Elizabeth and her court returned.

She lit the candles in the sconce and, stripping off her dress, hung it in the cupboard. Then she splashed water from the jug into the bowl and washed her face and neck. She then stripped off her little busk and washed her breasts and beneath her arms. She took off her shoes, stockings, petticoat, and drawers and washed her long, slim legs and feet.

Dressed in black from head to foot, Shane Hawkhurst drew his black cloak about him and stepped through the window of his apartment on the fourth floor of Greenwich Palace. He remained motionless until his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, then smoothly, with fluid motions, climbed across two balconies and, with great stealth, dropped to a stone balcony on the third floor. His eyes searched the darkness for any movement in the grounds below; then a blurred motion inside the room caught his attention. He saw a young woman squeeze the water from a pair of stockings and reach her arms up high to hang them over the wall mirror to dry. She was as naked as the day she was born! He caught his breath as she knelt before a trunk and searched inside for something she apparently could not locate.

Sabre knew she had packed two lawn smocks for sleeping, but realized they must be in the other trunk. "Peste!" she swore in French, then looked up toward the windows. With the drapes undrawn she suddenly felt very exposed. Reason told her she was up too high to be observed, yet she needed to draw the curtains for her own modesty, since it would take her a while to locate her night rail. She stood up and advanced to the window.

Hawkhurst's physical response to the naked young woman was immediate and pronounced. As he stood motionless, hot blood surged into his loins, wiping out all thoughts except one. He stared unblinking lest he miss one moment of the lovely vision displayed before him. Her breasts thrust upward, deliciously round and tempting above a waist that was only a man's hand span, but the most exquisite thing about her was her hair. It fell to her hips in a coppery cloud. He licked his lips, which had suddenly gone dry, for now she was so close he could have reached out a hand to touch her. As she reached up to pull the drapes across the window he was startled to see that her face was also beautiful.

Robbed of his vision, he felt cheated, angry as a dog separated from its meat. He was just about to push open the casement and step inside to take what he desired when he suddenly remembered that the baron was waiting for him, and worse, he had left him too long where he would be exposed to danger. How could he have forgotten what he was about? The pulsing insistence between his legs did nothing to improve his temper, and he cursed the wench who had aroused his lust so easily.

The next day the cleaning of the palace began in earnest. Every casement and window was thrown wide to allow the stale air to escape and fresh air to rush in. Men and women cleaners were sweeping out old rushes, removing cobwebs and dust from gilt picture frames, wall sconces, and ceiling cornices, scrubbing floors, and rubbing each piece of furniture with beeswax and turpentine.

Sabre worked on the queen's gowns once more with Kate at her elbow, absorbing every word of advice and gossip that dropped from her aunt's lips. At lunch she was introduced to a group of ladies who had not, for one reason or another, accompanied Her Majesty. Katherine and Philadelphia Carey, two sisters who had not the means to travel in the style expected on progress, sat at a table with Lady Leighton, Lady Holby, and Lady Barow. All were very friendly and relaxed, for usually meals were served with a maximum of formality. Usually a lady-in-waiting rubbed each plate with bread and salt, then bowed three times. Each dish was tasted for poison and then the meat was presented to the queen for her to carve off the portions she desired. All such formalities were abandoned today.

Sabre, observing the gowns of the other women, decided hers were old-fashioned, almost prim. She must procure scissors and thread and tonight restyle the necklines of her three gowns. Today she wore the pale green, and although she knew the color did wonderful things for her, she glanced down at the modest bodice, making note of just how she could cut it to expose her breasts, lest she be laughed at as a country bumpkin.

The Carey sisters wore only simple pearls and one ring apiece, but the jewels of the other ladies caught Sabre's admiration. She had seen portraits of Elizabeth that showed her wearing rings on every finger, and her ladies obviously copied the style. Sabre did not possess one piece of jewelry, but her mind now set to work on how she could acquire some.

"We are so dull here now that the queen has left, we are positively moped to death," complained Lady Holby.

"There's absolutely no excuse for it! I've decided to throw a small party tomorrow evening," said Lady Leighton, "and I've talked Lady Barow into helping me. Would you care to join us, Lady Ashford?" They used each other's titles with deference.

"I'm glad of the time to myself to just rest, thank you, ladies, but perhaps my niece Sabre would enjoy your generous hospitality. She is new to court from the country and needs to cultivate as many friendships as she can while the vultures are away."

"Aye, she is pretty," conceded Philadelphia Carey, "she'll have no trouble making enemies with that face."

Sabre smiled. "Your name is unusual."

"Yours, too, is an odd name and will serve to draw attention," said Philadelphia.

Lady Anne Leighton lowered her voice. "Spread the word to as many men as you can. You'd be surprised at the number of gentlemen who haven't accompanied the queen, and every last one of them will be looking for diversion."

Katherine Carey's eyes shone as she warmed to the subject. "Last night I saw the Fox and the Gypsy, and 'tis rumored the Sea God hasn't left yet."

Sabre was momentarily puzzled, until Kate laughed and said, "Most of the men at court have code names personally selected by Her Majesty."

Anne Leighton winked saucily. "All the ones worth bedding, at any rate!"

Sabre was shocked, for she was almost certain that Lady Leighton was married.

"God's blood, I'm perished with all these windows open," her aunt said. "I hate to admit it, but my bones feel every draft these days. Sabre, be a good girl and fetch me a shawl from my chamber."

Sabre left the long dining hall and hesitated a moment over the direction she should take. She decided the wardrobe rooms were to the right, but then she turned left to the staircase that led to the corridor, which in turn opened to the central staircase leading to the third-floor apartments. One more turn found her in a part of the palace she had not seen before. She was at a crossover point for two wide hallways; one contained many doors, while the other was a long, mirrored gallery.

She spun about and tried to retrace her steps, but nothing looked remotely familiar and she realized that she was lost. She sighed with relief when she saw a gentleman advancing toward her from the mirrored gallery. As the distance closed between them she realized he must be a noble of some rank, for his clothes were richly flamboyant. He wore scarlet, slashed with black. His thigh-high boots were of supple black leather with startling scarlet linings where they were folded down from their tops. He wore a short, rakish cape in the latest fashion, which emphasized the unbelievable breadth of his shoulders.

Sabre's knees turned to water as she saw the white teeth flash against the deep tan of his face. He was such a handsome rogue that her blood seemed to thicken and slow in her veins. They were so close, she imagined she felt the heat of his tall, muscular body. "Sir," she breathed, startled at the sudden huskiness of her voice, "I'm hopelessly lost."

He gazed down at her in mock solemnity. "So am I, mistress." His hand covered his heart.

Her lashes swept to her cheeks, then her green eyes flashed up at him. "Pray, m'lord, do not mock me."

He took her small hand in his strong brown one. "This way, sweeting."

"But—but I haven't told you where I wish to go," she protested weakly.

They were in a secluded alcove, and as he looked down at her she realized his grin and his intent were wicked!

Hawk was delighted to discover that the temptress's eyes were like pale green pools. He'd lain awake hours picturing their color. His own, a shade of deep indigo, raked her now as he pictured again the nubile curves she offered beneath the gown. His eyes were playing with her body, and she realized that in another moment it would be more than his eyes. He lifted her high against him and took her mouth in a teasing kiss. Power and forcefulness emanated from him. He had enough muscle to make her feel completely dominated. She opened her lips to deny him, but his mouth came down hard on hers, silencing her objections with a fierce, devouring kiss. Hot waves of sensation were sweeping through her body. Quickly she pulled her mouth from his, and as she did so she noticed the tip of his tongue. My God, she thought wildly, would he put his wicked tongue in her mouth?

Her hand swept back and the stinging slap startled him momentarily. It was the last thing he was expecting. He lowered her feet to the ground and with narrowed eyes demanded, "What game is this you play, mistress?"

"You lecher…." Her breasts heaved with her outrage. "You—you … ravisher of virgins!"

He laughed, genuinely amused at the quaint phrase. "Virgin? I think not, sweeting. You invite me to take you to an alcove by pretending to be lost, then tease me with slaps and deny me what you were just begging for."

"Pretending … oh, you damned rake … to take advantage of my innocence," she stammered.

"Innocence?" He laughed. "Any woman who has been at this court longer than twenty-four hours has lost her innocence."

Her eyes blazed their outrage. "I have been here exactly twenty-three hours—you have one hour left in which to debauch me!" she challenged, and suddenly he felt he was in the wrong. Her nearness had had the same throbbing physical effect upon him as the previous night. Usually he had an iron control over his body, and it irritated him that this little wench, with her flaming hair, could so easily make him lose that control. He bowed formally. "May I escort you, mistress?"

"Go to hell!" she snapped, and turning upon her heel, she marched off as if she knew exactly where she was going.

"Little bitch!" He swore under his breath. "Rebuffs me when I play the man, rebuffs me when I play the gentleman." He stood staring after her. Was she an innocent or a practiced courtesan? Either way she needed a good bedding!

Kate found Sabre lost in a trance, staring from the window of her chamber. "Wake up, sleeping beauty. I thought you'd been kidnapped."

"Aunt Kate, quickly, who is that man riding off on that black stallion?" She pointed her finger through the glass.

"Ah, no wonder your senses have been addled. That's the Sea God! All the women are hot as bitches in heat for him."

I wouldn't spit on him if he was on fire, thought Sabre vulgarly, but she knew she was lying through her teeth.

"Come, dear, if we can get a few dozen gowns finished this afternoon, we can start cleaning her jewelry tomorrow. You'll take such delight in the jewels, Sabre. Any woman would sell her soul for them. Wait until I unlock some of her coffers. You did very well to get an invitation from Anne Leighton for tomorrow night. I hope you know how to play cards. She'll have gambling to lure the men, don't you see?"

Sabre didn't know how to play cards very well and thought about consulting Matthew. "Isn't Lady Leighton married?"

"Of course, both she and Mary Barow. Their husbands are off fighting in Holland with Leicester. But of course it wouldn't make a scrap of difference if they were present tomorrow night. All husbands and wives at court learn to turn a blind eye where advantageous liaisons are concerned." Kate gave her a sharp look. "You must keep a shrewd head on your shoulders and quickly sort out the strong protectors from the weak, else you'll be like a lamb to slaughter. Keep your legs crossed until you settle on a victim, and for God's sake have the wit not to be undone by a handsome face."

Before she retired for the night, Sabre made her way by stealth to Matthew's chamber. A low knock brought his dear familiar voice to her before he even opened the door. "Come in, sweetheart, you're early … oh, Sabre, it's you."

"I'm in trouble!" she said urgently.

He drawled, "That's what all the ladies tell me."

"Oh, Matt!" She laughed. "You shouldn't say such things to me … 'tis indecent."

He winked at her. "You shouldn't understand the innuendo. Come in before anyone sees you." He had just finished shaving. He rinsed his ivory-handled razor, then poured them each a glass of wine. She sat beside a small table and took a sip of the blood-red wine. "Not so powerful as brandy," she commented.

"Ah, but perhaps more subtle. You expect brandy to pack a punch, but often by the time you realize you have imbibed too much wine, your inhibitions have fled and it is too late."

"Thank you for the warning. I've been invited by Lady Anne Leighton to a party she is giving tomorrow night, and I must learn all about playing cards."

"Sabre, I've been gambling a lifetime and Hawk can beat me nine hands out of ten. You can't learn to play cards in one lesson."

"Well, teach me something … how to fake … or how to cheat!"

He looked at her with raised brows. "Are you serious? Would you really cheat?"

"My own grandmother," she said, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Let's see. I could teach you how to play sant, perhaps." He handed her a deck of playing cards. "Take out all the cards lower than seven. We play with only thirty-two." He laughed as she dropped more than she held, but soon she was handling them with dexterity and began to shuffle and riffle them as she had seen others do. "There are four suits and the ace is high," he explained patiently. "Now deal each of us twelve cards."

She listened carefully, intent upon learning the game.

"They'll play for stakes; money usually," he warned her.

She lost badly and he said, "You now owe me one gold piece."

"Oh, Matt, it's too hard!" she wailed.

He leered. "That's what all the—"

"—ladies tell you," she finished for him, and slapped him for his naughtiness. It took her over an hour, but she managed to start winning.

"You play very well," he complimented.

She flashed her green eyes at him and teased, "That's what all the gentlemen tell me."

He found her delicious company and regretted that he had invited another female to spend the evening with him.

"Well, I'd better leave before your guest arrives." She sighed and stood up.

"Sabre, if you'll stay, I could get rid of her," he offered.

"Matt, please don't spoil our lovely friendship with all that other rubbish." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and was gone.

Damn, thought Matt, I didn't even warn her that Hawk is still in the palace. After giving it some thought he scribbled a note, found her room, and pushed it beneath her door.

She didn't see it until she was about to blow out her candles. It read, Sabre: I must warn you that Hawk is still in residence. I will try to learn when he leaves on progress. Matt.

She caught her breath as she read the words. Hatred for the man rose up in her like a fever. Her Irish blood targeted him as the enemy. She would learn every intimate thing about him there was to know. She would discover his likes and dislikes, his haunts, his habits, his strengths and his weaknesses. She clenched her fists as she lay in her bed. Silently she vowed that when she had discovered his weaknesses, she would destroy him.