28. Andrew

A NDREW Willingale Spain, Essex, 10th June 1613

T HE ONLY ROOM WITHIN this house that could be counted private was the small room that the minister, our host, used as his study. It had barely space to keep his chair and books and one small table. Phoebe, sitting in the chair, looked up at me with patience.

I'd rehearsed the words on wakening this morning, in my mind. They'd sounded well enough, then. Now, they sounded painfully inadequate for such a woman.

‘We have had our difficulties,' I began again, ‘but I would like to think we've overcome them. I'd like to think ye ken my feelings have… my feelings are…'

I stumbled on the order of the words, and drew a breath, prepared to start again, but in her upturned face I saw a tiny gleam of hope that sparked a deep response within me, and I threw aside my mental script.

‘The Devil take it, Phoebe. I do love ye.' The confession came out in a rush, but honestly. ‘Ye took my heart the moment I first saw ye, and no other lass will have it.'

She looked astonished, as well she might be, but then she did a thing that gave me hope – for the first time, she called me by my name, and in a tone that gave me courage to continue. ‘Andrew?'

Kneeling so my face was on a level with her own, I said, ‘I'm not a wealthy man, but I do promise I'll provide for ye. I'm not a pious man, but ye will never come to harm. God kens I'm not an easy man to love, but Phoebe, if ye'll be my lass, I swear I'll make ye happy.'

Incredibly, she took my face in her two hands and looked directly in my eyes, and her own eyes were welling up with unshed tears. ‘You're asking… are you asking if I'll marry you?'

‘Aye.'

Then she kissed me, and I found my answer there.

Since it would be a few days while the licence was arranged, I saddled Brutus the next morning and rode into nearby Chelmsford to the market there, and bought a ring.

It took a while. I made the merchant spread his wares across his booth, to his frustration, and asked him to read each ring's inscription to me, claiming it was best for me, that way, to judge the poetry.

Some of the mottoes leaned too far towards religion; others sounded too much like a pledge you'd offer to a friend. But then he showed to me a heavy band of silver gilt, inscribed with Roman lettering around its inner surface, and he read aloud the words: ‘My heart you have.'

And I knew then I'd found the one.

On the Wednesday morning following, I placed that ring on Phoebe's finger, and the minister at Willingale pronounced us married.

We were not in church, but in the front room of the house, so Hector, sitting up now in a chair but still in need of rest, would not miss out on all the joy and ceremony. I believed I heard him cheer the loudest when we kissed.

I was relieved to see him looking so recovered. He'd be well enough to ride in a few days, but he'd come close to dying when we'd first arrived. So close, in fact, that while I'd held the lad's small hand, the minister had come to sit near Hector's head, to say the prayers for preparation of the dying.

Then he'd asked Hector, ‘Son, do you believe in God?'

The lad's voice had been weak, but carried the indignant tone he'd showed us at the Roman wall. ‘Of course I do,' he'd said. ‘I'm not a fool.'

The minister had let that pass as being from the fever. ‘Good. And do you know what happens when God's angels carry you to heaven?'

‘Aye.' Hector's eyes had closed, confident. ‘Logan will break the damn'd gates down, and bring me right back.'

I had squeezed his hand tightly. I hadn't let go of it all that night, and in the morning the fever had broken, so mayhap I truly had beaten the angels who wanted to carry him off. Either way, he was with us yet, even if he was dismayed today that I'd not dressed in my Messenger's scarlet for my wedding.

I lied. ‘I didn't think of it.'

Hector forgave me with a shrug. His mind had turned to other things. ‘Logan, d'ye think King James will let me be a Messenger?'

‘We'll have to wait and see,' I said.

He frowned, and called upon Sir David, standing near us, for assistance. ‘But I've proven that I'm strong though, haven't I? That I can fight?'

Sir David said, ‘Aye, lad, we always knew that you were brave. Though sometimes, it does take more strength to know when to avoid the battle.'

There he paused, and glanced at me, and might have looked away had I not caught his eye and tipped my head to motion him to join me in the corner for a quiet word.

Once there, I said, ‘Ye've thought of something. Tell me.'

‘You are newly married, Logan. You should think of nothing more today except your wedding night.'

I let my glance dismiss that notion. ‘Where would ye suggest we go, in this house, for a wedding night? The bairns are hanging from the rafters. No, we'll let that wait for London – and if your dead Roman has his thoughts on that , he'll have to keep them to himself,' I added, as I saw him drawing breath.

Sir David closed his mouth obligingly.

I asked, ‘What's on your mind?'

He said, ‘The way I see it, you were charged to bring me south to be examined, yes? And Westaway was charged to write down a report.'

‘And?'

‘Well, you can still complete your mission. There is paper here.' He nodded to the table near us. ‘I can write my own report. I know the things I saw. The things that happened. I was there.'

‘And what will that accomplish?' I asked. ‘Ye'll be dead if I do bring ye to the king.'

Sir David's eyes held private knowledge. ‘But the king,' he said, ‘was not the only one who sent for me.' He smiled. ‘I have a plan.'

The great palace at Greenwich was built in the form of a square, with the king's lodgings stretched out along the green bank of the River Thames, and the queen's lodgings facing the gardens and hills to the south, and a courtyard between them.

Just now, all that showed of that palace's grandeur were the glittering reflections cast upon the night-dark river through the myriad windows behind which the lamps yet burned.

My friend Roger, having met us in the stables near the waterfront, looked back and whispered, ‘Mind your step. The guards are near.'

I bent as low as possible, and waited. We'd left Hector in the stables with instructions to watch Brutus, and a trusted friend of Roger's who had strict instructions to watch Hector, for his shoulder still was not yet healed enough for prowling in the dark.

I was beginning to wish I'd left Phoebe in the stables, too, although I doubted she'd have stayed there. She was close behind me now, and keeping silent, with Sir David at her back.

At last the guards moved on. Their shadows passed. When Roger stood, we followed him.

The hills looked down upon us as we slipped between the porticos and through the entrance. Started up the stairs.

‘You must be brief,' said Roger. ‘You'll not have much time.'

We'd reached a long, arched gallery with paintings hung to either side. We moved along it swiftly, but not fast enough, for at its end, a guard stepped in to block our way.

He told us, ‘State your business.'

‘It is private,' Roger said. ‘I am her groom.'

‘I know who you are, Moor,' he said. ‘But who are they?'

I saw the set of Roger's jaw, and knew it well. He pointed at me. ‘That is Andrew Logan, the King's Messenger,' he told the guard. ‘And you will let us through.'

The guard's expression changed. He stood aside. We entered a large hall, where at the farther end a group of women in fine gowns were sitting round a table, playing at a game of cards.

They turned as we came in.

I knelt then, so I only saw a wide, embroidered skirt sweep gracefully towards us, in my downcast field of view.

Queen Anna said, ‘Sir David,' in a voice that sounded genuinely moved. ‘I'm very glad to see you safe.'

Sir David, kneeling at my side, replied, ‘Your Majesty. For that, you may thank this man, Andrew Logan, who did guard me well.'

The queen acknowledged me, but warily, no doubt because I served the king.

And then she touched Sir David on his shoulder. ‘Come,' she told him. ‘Walk with me.'