The Ringed Castle - Dorothy Dunnett [31]
From Malta, letters from a Knight of St John called de Seurre; and from Greece and Turkey long epistles, with ribbons, from a wandering poet whose name was Míkál: Dragut Rais is leading the armada of Suleiman from Turkey to attack the Emperor’s men in Florence and Corsica, so they say.
And from a scholar of Guthrie’s acquaintance in England named Bartholomew Lychpole: The Queen has ratified the marriage with Prince Philip and called God to witness that she has not consented to marry from any carnal affection or desire, nor from any motive but her kingdom’s honour and prosperity, and the repose and tranquillity of her subjects. All present, the letter added in its broad, angular writing, had tears in their eyes.
The Queen has decided not to execute William Courtenay, and he has been allowed out of prison. The Queen’s half-sister the Lady Elizabeth has been released from the Tower, and the Stillyard merchants shot off cannon for joy when she passed, which displeased the Queen mightily.
And in early August: The Spanish marriage has taken place. The Prince has no English. The Queen speaks no Castilian, but understands it. The Spaniards he has brought with him are not impressed, and are heard to say openly that the Queen is a good creature, but rather older than they had been told, although if she dressed in their fashions she might not look so old and so flabby. At least, they conclude, the King of England (as he now styles himself) fully realizes that the marriage was concluded for no fleshly consideration, but in order to remedy the disorders of the kingdom and preserve the Low Countries.
Much was made at the wedding of the Lady Margaret Douglas, Countess of Lennox, than whom there are few closer to the Queen Mary. She acted as Mistress of the Robes and Purse Bearer as well as First Lady, and had with her a fair son of eight, whom they call Henry, Lord Darnley.
The letters moved backwards and forwards, but the secret of their destination was perfectly kept. Only the Countess of Lennox, cousin to Queen Mary, and mother of the fine son Lord Darnley, benefited from a hint dropped from the lips of Sir Thomas Wharton, who came by with Austin Grey one fine autumn morning, to pay the lady his manly respects.
A woman in her late thirties with King Henry’s political cleverness; and King Henry’s will; and King Henry’s fair and untouched physical splendour, the Lady Margaret received the news at first coolly. ‘Philippa Somerville has returned? A Northumberland family, I recall. With property adjoining Lord Allendale’s.’ Her voice had flattened a trifle. ‘The girl is of some importance?’
‘Not in herself,’ Sir Thomas said mildly. ‘Although the property, as you say, is fairly extensive. I was more concerned with her family connections. You know she’s just spent a year with that Scots fellow Crawford of Lymond?’
‘Ah!’ said the Countess of Lennox. After a moment she said, ‘No. Poor, misguided child. I had not heard of this. Where did this happen?’
Tom Wharton’s voice, answering, clashed with Austin Grey’s, attempting apparently to remonstrate. Tom Wharton won. ‘In somewhat doubtful circumstances in the poorer parts of the Middle Sea, so I believe. It is said he went through a form of marriage with the girl. At least she claims to have papers.’
‘She has papers,’ said Austin Grey sharply. ‘Tom, you know as well as I do this was a regular marriage. They went through it as a matter of form. But it was a marriage.’