The Forest - Edward Rutherfurd [161]
The fact was, he knew very well, that his friend Gorges for once in his life had overreached himself. He had recently acquired a fine estate just south of Sarum – indeed, Albion had looked over the land the day before, during the interview with his mother. On this estate, known as Longford, Gorges had intended to build a great house. But some time had passed and not a stone had been laid.
‘Oh, Clement.’ She had a charming way of taking your arm to share a confidence. ‘Do not tell Thomas I have told you, but we are’ – she made a little grimace – ‘in difficulty.’
‘Can you not build a smaller house?’
‘Very small, Clement.’ She smiled conspiratorially.
‘A cottage?’ He meant it as a jest, but she shook her head and looked serious.
‘A small cottage, Clement. Perhaps not even that.’
Could things really be so bad? Thomas must have overspent more than he had guessed. ‘Thomas’s fortunes have always risen,’ he offered. He had no doubt his friend’s career would continue to be brilliant.
‘Let us hope they rise further, then, Clement.’ She smiled again, but ruefully this time. ‘No new dresses for me this year, I fear.’
‘Perhaps the queen …’
‘I’ve been at court.’ She shrugged. ‘The queen hasn’t a penny herself. This Spanish business’ – she waved towards the horizon – ‘has emptied the treasury.’
Albion nodded thoughtfully.
‘Speaking of this Spanish business.’ He hesitated a moment, but decided to go on. ‘I brought some of my men down, as you know. Thomas wanted to see them.’ He gave her a sidelong glance. It was as he had suspected. He could see that she knew something. ‘Then Thomas insisted he see them alone, without me. Why did he do that, Helena?’
They had both stopped.
Helena was looking down at the shingle at her feet. A wave broke up the beach towards them, then ebbed away. When she answered, she did not look at him. ‘Thomas is only following his orders, Clement,’ she said quietly. ‘That is all.’
‘It is thought that I …?’
‘There are many Catholics in the county, Clement. Everyone knows it. Why, even the Carews …’ Thomas Carew had been the previous captain of Hurst Castle. His family, good Catholics all of them, still lived at the village of Hordle at the Forest’s edge, only a few miles away.
‘One can be a Catholic without being a traitor, Helena.’
‘Of course. And you are still left in command of part of the muster, Clement, are you not? Consider that.’
‘But your husband nonetheless has to make sure that I and my men are loyal.’
‘The council is watching everyone, Clement. They have no choice.’
‘The council? Cecil? They distrust me?’
‘Your mother, Clement. Remember, even Cecil has heard of your mother.’
‘My mother.’ A wave of panic suddenly seized him. He thought of their interview the day before, and felt himself blushing. ‘What’ – he tried to sound unconcerned – ‘has my foolish mother been saying now?’
‘Who knows, Clement? I am not privy to all these things, but I told the queen …’
‘The queen? The queen knows of my mother? Dear God!’
‘I told her – forgive me, Clement – that she was a foolish woman. Her opinions are not yours.’
‘God forbid!’
‘So, dear Clement, you should not be alarmed. Concern yourself with my house instead. Find me a way to build more than a cowshed at Longford.’
He laughed, relieved, and they turned to go back towards the fort. The sea was edging a little higher up the shingle. Ahead, across the water, the four chalk Needles of the Isle of Wight were gleaming. To Albion, at that moment, they seemed phantom-like, unreal. Some gulls rose, ghostly white, cried, then flew away, out to sea.
‘Clement.’ She had stopped. She was facing him. ‘You know we love you. You’re not a traitor, are you?’
‘I …?’
Her eyes were searching his face. ‘Clement? Tell me?’
‘Dear God, no.’
‘Swear it.’
‘I swear. Upon my honour. Upon all that is sacred.’ Their eyes met. Hers were