A/N: Thanks for your review, Blurgle - just a few loose ends to tidy at Court, and the doughty duo will be off on the road. First things first, though - Mr Dudley has some acclimatisation work to do...


Chapter Twenty-Nine

A Second to be Proud of

Robert Dudley's return to Court from Milan is treated as a grand welcome on the part of his elder brothers, both of whom are carving out excellent careers for themselves. He is not as keen a politician as they are, though he is more than capable of politicking where he must, and his knowledge and expertise in the field of horsemanship seems to recommend him very much to the post of Master of the Horse, as we had surmised. We do not even have to persuade Sir Anthony Browne to step aside, for his wish to retire is well known, and he is more than content to relinquish the post. Ceremonial though it is, the position is one of great importance that grants access to the King - albeit not to the same degree of that held by the Groom of the Stool.

Intriguingly, both Dudley and Cecil are quite intent, despite the fast friendship that has grown between them, to present a front of indifference - nay, even one of mild dislike - to those around them. While Cromwell and I are considered to be quite the David and Jonathan, to the point that I am sure Court wags at one point or another have suggested that our closeness is more than mere friendship, our successors seem keen to pretend that they are not involved with one another in any manner at all other than stiff politeness, for Dudley is reputed to be a man of action, while Cecil is most certainly not. Given that Cecil shows promise to become a great politician on the Edwardian Court, the pair are certain to enjoy a level of influence almost akin to ours, though they have planned to conceal it under a veneer of mild rivalry.

Cromwell has already set Dudley the task of studying plans of all of the palaces that he shall be patrolling. When I have departed, he shall no longer have access to my ability to determine where an incoming demon has located itself, so he shall be obliged to rely upon his own senses, just as we used to do. It is a monumental task - and I suspect that Dudley does not know that the Raven committed them all to memory in just two days. Admittedly, he did not stop for trifles such as victuals or sleep, but nonetheless, it was a monumental feat - and to know it would put undue pressure upon the Hawk to attempt to do likewise. Older and wiser he may be, but he is still seventeen; and I can remember witnessing - and enduring - many incidents in my youth brought about by foolish impetuosity thanks to young men believing themselves to be more mature than they are.

Consequently, my reports of demons being present are made only to Cromwell, for it is unfair to grant Dudley this advantage for a short time, only to withdraw it. Otherwise, the two men hunt together, while I remain in my quarters for the first time in years. Perhaps I should revel in the freedom to retire to my bed far earlier than once I did - but I do not. Instead, I miss the hunts and wish that I could be with them. Even I can hold my own against a ravener these days.

Of course, there is also the matter of the Lady Elizabeth, for she has indeed proved to be delighted at Dudley's return to Court. She is overjoyed that he succeeded in his endeavour, but the fact that she has taken such care with her wardrobe, and wears a remarkable scent of damask rose that was formulated especially for her, suggests to all who know of it that she is hopeful of rekindling their fledgling relationship. So far, she has not been given the opportunity to spend time with him alone - or even in reduced company - and her frustration at this has expressed itself in a magisterial outburst of temper that sent her ladies fleeing from her. It is also clear to us that Dudley reciprocates - though he has learned a degree of self control that prevents him from expressing his feelings quite so violently. Cromwell tells me that he vents his fury upon the few raveners that enter the court - though they do so at a rate similar to that of the population we were obliged to cull in the earliest days of our partnership.

By the end of the month, it is clear to us all that we cannot keep them apart for much longer, and the Queen Regent is also finding herself facing persuasion from the King, for he admires Robert Dudley enough as it is, without his having earned the Hawk blades, and his love for Elizabeth demands that he do all he can to grant his elder sister happiness. Being as young as he is, he still does not see the political obstacles that might stand in their way, and certainly his father would never have countenanced such a match for her. But Edward is not Henry, and he does not view all things in relation to their potential impact upon how he is regarded by those around him. To his mind, Elizabeth loves Robert Dudley, and he loves her in return: thus they should be permitted to wed should they wish to. He is the King, after all, so it is difficult to refuse.

"I shall secure the meeting, Gentlemen," the Regent advises, quietly, "So that both parties are adequately chaperoned in the first instance. Regardless of their feelings for one another, Elizabeth is of Royal blood, while Mr Dudley has no noble status - and that shall inevitably generate comment - particularly after the incident involving his father. There is no means of preventing that - but if we an at least mitigate it in the first instance, then they shall have time to decide whether or not they still wish to be together."

"We shall not be present, Majesty." Cromwell advises, gravely, "It would be pointless, and intrusive. Who shall be present for Mr Dudley? I shall assume that the Lady shall be accompanied by Mrs Ashley and Lady Rochford."

"She shall. I suggest my Lords of Northumberland and Wessex. They are well respected, and their loyalty to the King is unimpeachable."

"In which case, we shall leave matters in your hands, Majesty. If it becomes clear, however, that they shall not withdraw their intentions, I am more than content to aid with the drafting of any letters patent to confirm a suitable peerage for the young man."

The Regent smiles, "Then sharpen your quill, my Lord of Essex, for I have no doubt that it shall be needed."


It feels strange to be out in the corridors again after dark, for I have not done so since Dudley arrived to take up his post. He is supping with the Regent tonight, however, and thus Cromwell and I are hunting together. It does not do, of course, to get out of practice - I intend to grant students the opportunity to do this wherever possible. Shadowsight has not warned me of the presence of an infernal being, and Cromwell has sensed no ichor, but we emerge for form's sake - such is my clumsiness that I require regular such sorties to maintain what few skills I have at covert movement.

"I do not intend to rush to Milan, Richie." Cromwell advises, quietly, as we make our way through a parterre garden, "As it is, the journey shall take at least two weeks - but I have not been on the continent for many years, and thus I intend to move at a slow pace to reacquaint myself with the world outside the Court. The word of spies is most useful, but I wish to know it for myself."

"I have no complaint, Thomas; for I have lived a life of privilege, and it is vital that I learn as much as I can about life beyond my cosseted world."

"It shall not be comfortable, Richie: far from it, in fact. There may be nights where we shall have no roofs over our heads and we must rest in barns, or under the open sky. Such is the life of an Itinerant. There are networks of houses across the countries through which we must pass - but it shall not always be so that we shall be in the vicinity of one."

That, I was not expecting, and I pause for a moment, "Is that so?"

"It is. Perhaps I should have advised you of that in a more timely fashion - but life on the road is, on occasions, rather rough. I hope that it shall not cause you to loathe me for taking you from the world that you know."

"If it does, then I am not worthy to call myself a Second, Thomas. I have endured hardships, and thus I shall teach myself to endure any that we shall encounter upon the road. It is better that I do so, for I have been relatively pampered, and that shall not be the case any longer, shall it?"

Cromwell chuckles softly, "Then we shall both be discomfited, Richie - for I am no less settled in comfort than you. What a pair we shall make, I fear; stiffened, grumbling and bad tempered."

But we shall be together - and that is all that matters to me.

Our hunt proves fruitless, but then we knew that it would. Instead, we return to Cromwell's apartments to share that customary cup of mulled wine that would always end our hunts. All that would make this time perfect would be Wyatt's presence, long lost and long missed. I hope that he is safe in God's care; and that we shall be together again in Christ when my time comes.

A knock at the door turns our heads as James goes to admit Dudley, his expression one of uncertainty. Without hesitation, Cromwell fetches a chair while James pours another cup of claret, "I am in a quandary, Raven." He admits, "I know not what to do."

"Did this evening not go well?" I ask, worriedly, surely the Lady Elizabeth has not spurned him? It seemed so unlikely.

Dudley's expression brightens, "Oh yes, Mr Rich - it went exceedingly well. The Lady is as glorious as ever, and I would lay down my life for her were I not set first upon the requirements of the Mission."

"But?" Cromwell prompts.

"I wish that I could make her my wife, Raven. But she is royal, and I am not - moreover, I am a Silver Sword now."

"I was married, Hawk. Do not forget, I have a son who serves in Parliament; and I once had two daughters, God rest their souls. It can be as useful to a Court Silver Sword to have a wife as it can be difficult for an Itinerant. That shall not bar you from her."

"Perhaps not. But our blood still stands in the way."

"And if it did not?" I ask.

"If it did not, then I would kneel before her and beg her hand." Dudley sighs, "But, alas, it does, and thus I do not. I have no title and no lands. I would make her a most poor husband - for she must marry one of her own."

He is most subdued, alas. Such an unfortunate turn of events, then; to love a woman to whom he can make no commitment. Or so he thinks. If Elizabeth is keen upon the match, and the matter is broached appropriately, then perhaps it might be possible. He has been formally appointed as the Master of the King's Horse, and shall begin work tomorrow - examining the mounts in the great Mews. He is of good family, albeit one with no Royal connection, and were he of a suitable rank; an earl, for choice, then what could stand in their way?


Queen Jane's expression is also rather bemused, for it is clear that the Lady Elizabeth is as keen upon Dudley as he is keen upon her. The meeting last night assured her of it, "I think that we must consider it, Gentlemen. To do otherwise would be cruel to them both. She has spoken of little else but Mr Dudley for the last two weeks - and her joy in knowing he is here could not be clearer."

Somerset nods, "Though we must take care - for there are many who have entered into marriage for love, and have discovered that it is not enough. That they are as intent upon one another as they were a year and a half ago, and that long absence has done nothing to diminish it, suggests that their love would survive. It must do so, for there shall be much comment should they wed."

"And it must not be done without the consent of the King and the Council." Cromwell adds, firmly, "It shall satisfy the law - which is of great importance - and shall also deter gossip about clandestine nuptials. Such talk was a dark ghost over the marriage of the fourth Edward, for that was indeed undertaken in secret, and the woman he married was of common stock; married in defiance of the efforts of the highest Noble in England. It devoured the last of the Plantagenets, including two boys almost the equal of our own Royal boys in age, and brought no joy to any in the end."

"Indeed." Somerset agrees, "All must be done with great care and openness. There is no reason why Mr Dudley should not receive a peerage, for his brothers have proved themselves to be the men that their father might have come to be had he not fallen in with such desperate influences. Ambrose is an earl, so it would not be inappropriate that he also become one."

"The only issue that I foresee," I feel I have no choice but to rain upon the banquet, "is that most at Court would wonder how it is that a man who has been away from Court for a year and a half could return and be granted an earldom without having shown any act to merit it. The work of Silver Swords is not known to any but we of the Inner Circle, and that knowledge shall pass with us to the grave, as we agreed. Therefore, no matter what greatness is worked by the Hawk, none shall know of it, and his merit shall be unseen."

The Regent sighs, for she knows that I am right, "Indeed, my Lord; it is not wise to dispense peerages as though they were sweetmeats. My late Lord could, on occasion, grant reward almost without restraint, and to do so inspired jealousies and enmity between men who might otherwise have been friends. That Mr Dudley was able to protect the Lady Elizabeth from a demon while we were on progress is more than meritorious - but who other than we know of it?"

"We can, at least, knight him." I suggest, "For there has never been a Master of the Horse that does not hold at least that rank. It is a beginning, I think. If he is knighted, then it is not unknown for additional privileges to follow at greater speed."

"Then it shall be done." The Regent agrees, "I shall speak to his Majesty, for I know that he is willing to grant Mr Dudley a dukedom if it shall ensure his union with the Lady Elizabeth. He must not act arbitrarily, so we shall offer him a route to achieve that which he desires that is both sensible, and lawful."

And so we gather in the Presence Chamber two days on. Additional to the elder Dudley brothers, the two younger youths, Guilford and Henry, arrived only yesterday in hopes of seeking apprenticeships in the offices as John and Ambrose have done, and they are present to watch Robert receive an honour commensurate to his position as Master of the Horse.

It is Cecil who reads the honours out in his capacity as King's Secretary, as Dudley approaches the King and Regent. I am not remotely surprised that his Majesty thought that a knighthood was insufficient - as did we all - but his intention to grant a peerage is restrained and sensible, for he dubs his new Silver Sword Sir Robert Dudley, Baron Denbigh. Thus the honour is not unexpected, and draws no comment. Later honours shall certainly follow - and it is clear to all that Dudley was not expecting to be honoured at all. He has learned a great deal about humility while at the House.

Cromwell and I spend the evening playing cards, which still feels most peculiar given that we once hunted at this hour. Now that Dudley has mastered the plans of the palaces, he has begun to hunt alone; leaving us free to remain indoors and indulge ourselves in lesser pursuits.

"He has proved to be most skilled, Richie." Cromwell advises as he deals the hands, "While we have not seen large numbers of raveners in the time that he has been here, he has proven most capable in fighting them. His agility is remarkable, and his speed extraordinary. Yes - despite his youth, he is talented, and I see something in him of the young man I once was. His ambitious nature has been utterly curtailed, and his determination to serve with loyalty and skill undeniable. No Silver Sword has ever proved to be badly appointed, and I am convinced that he shall be an excellent Guardian."

"And William is equally capable," I agree, as I sort my cards, "though he has chosen not to carry a blade, he confessed to me a while back that he has taken he opportunity to learn to shoot a small crossbow. Fortunately, his aim is far, far better than mine. I think he felt that he was disappointing me, for he had chosen not to take up a blade - even though I counselled him that I was the exception, not the rule."

"It is inevitable that he feels that he is in your shadow." Cromwell looks at his cards with dismay, for he seems to have dealt himself a dreadful hand, "For none have served as well as you have done - you are truly a Second to be proud of."

"Quiet yourself, Thomas. I am surely blushing." I joke, "Either that or I shall bore you again with yet another screed about how that night I found you at my feet saved my soul."

"It seems, alas, that it shall not save this hand."


How strange it is. There was a time when the weeks passed marked by momentous events - or so it seems to me; but now they merely pass. Our work to ensure that the government of England shall remain strong once we have departed these shores continues apace, and we no longer have to fear the enmity of our fellow Councillors as they see the fruits of our work. England's debts remain rather higher than we would like - but are still being reduced at a steady, if gradual, pace. The currency has been stabilised, and trade continues to flourish. Now that we are no longer at each others' throats, we seem able to achieve so much more than ever we did when Henry ruled, and factions faced one another across the council table.

The King has struck up a great friendship with his Baron Denbigh, and the two spend hours together hunting and hawking when his Majesty is not at work. Dudley is, of course, the youngest of the prominent men at Court, as his two younger brothers are too newly arrived to have gained much of a presence, and his Majesty is most grateful to be in the company of one nearer to himself in age. They are inevitably accompanied by a phalanx of guards, for none outside our Inner Circle know of the true purpose of the Master of the King's Horse - but rarely by any other member of the Queen's Council. That we are present today suggests strongly that his Majesty wishes to question us upon matters pertaining to our other business - presumably because he has been asked never to alert any prince of his blood to the secret.

The spring weather is most agreeable as our horses thunder across the park of St James at a fair canter. There shall be a council meeting this afternoon, as is always the case, but this morning our time is our own. As Edward is now a King, rather than a Prince, our midday meal shall be set under an awning near a great oak tree rather than a shared repast fetched out of a saddlebag, but the ride out to that tree is considerable, and offers the ideal combination of challenge and safety.

Dudley is well established now, and our need to remain is reducing considerably. Thus our preparations shall soon begin for departure. As we pull up the horses alongside the awning, where a group of stewards have set out tables and chairs laid with the best silverware, and fine dishes of meat, with good bread and green cresses, it is clear that this is the matter that is upon his Majesty's mind, "When are you to depart, my Lords?"

"I think it shall not be long, Majesty." Cromwell advises him, "The weather is fair, and the crossing of the channel shall be easy. Your Government is well established, and none question either your legitimacy, or the right of your mother to be Regent until you are of age."

"It shall be most strange without you." He admits, quietly, "You have been a constant presence in my life - from the moment of my birth, for you saved me then, as you saved my mother. You protected the Court from great peril even after you had saved me, and have continued to do so even into my reign."

"It was my honour to do so, Majesty." Cromwell advises, quietly, "When first I left England and sought adventure on the continent, I never thought for a moment that such a great destiny awaited me."

He does not go into his journey from Milan back to London, for his Majesty has heard the tale many times now. Instead he allows Dudley to relate his own story, for it is not a tale that he has yet told, which surprises me somewhat given the number of times that they have ridden out together. Apparently he felt it was not appropriate to speak of himself in such glowing terms.

It is as we have turned to a selection of comfits and sweet wine that my senses alert me to danger, and I look up to see that one of the stewards is approaching, his hand reaching towards his waist…

"Majesty!" I am upon my feet, my hand extending for my sword as I summon it to me - but Dudley is quicker, being closer to the King. There is an air of madness about the man, whose eyes are livid with an unnerving fire that suggests insanity, though he says nothing. Without a care for his own safety, the Hawk leaps forth and wrestles the man to the ground, the dagger in the assailant's hand being waved in all directions as he attempts to break free to complete whatever mission he has set himself. Without hesitation, Cromwell and I are either side of the King, our weapons ready to defend him, though it proves unnecessary, as Dudley has efficiently disarmed the crazed man, and has pinned him to the earth as the guards come running. He has earned a slit in his sleeve in doing so, but at least the blade has not drawn blood. I have not forgotten the horrible poisoning I endured at the claws of the huntress, for I had not taken the same precaution.

"Why has he done this?" the King is shaken, and stares at the writhing man upon the floor as even now he attempts to force Dudley from atop him.

The failed assassin is wrenched to his feet by the guards, and he stands, snarling and growling in rage at us, though his words do not make much sense. The Captain of the guard however, has an explanation for it, "His eyes are unfocused, Majesty, I think he has imbibed some affective substance or other. Perhaps to build the courage to act. We shall get no explanation for his action until he has emerged from it."

"Then ensure that he is confined safely, Captain." The King says, "Until I know why he did this, I shall not act against him - for I do not know if he is sane or not." He knows that an insane person cannot be executed, even when they have done something so worthy of it as attempting to murder their liege Lord.

Cromwell has retrieved the blade, and looks at it, "My Lord of Denbigh, show me your arm."

Dudley complies, and allows Cromwell to examine the damage to his sleeve, "No blood, thank God. The blade has been painted with poison. Had it drawn blood, then that might well have been sufficient, even if there had been no deep wound."

The King stares at us, in horror, "Then my Lord of Denbigh might have died to save me?"

"Indeed so, Majesty." Cromwell is still closely examining the dagger, "Though at this point it is not possible to know what poison lies upon this blade."

Our journey back to the Palace is rather faster than our departure, and we are soon safe within the walls again. Her Majesty is, of course, horrified that one of the stewards attempted to murder his King, and Somerset is already seeking a motive, for the steward, now identified as being one of his own retinue, has given long service, and it seems most odd that he should act as he has, "Though I suspect I know it." He sighs, "For his father has recently been made bankrupt, owing to the loss of a merchant ship off Cadiz. His venture was based upon the increased confidence in trade engendered by the policies of the King's Government. It is quite likely that he thus blames the King, for he was always impetuous."

"Then we shall not act against him." The King says, firmly, "Instead he shall be sent from Court to return to his family. As his pay is the only sustenance to those who are now his dependents, it shall remain in place until he has found alternative employment."

"Your Majesty is most generous." Somerset says, surprised. Henry would, of course, have dispatched the youth to the Tower forthwith.

"David has served us well, my Lord of Somerset." He answers, "His rash act was driven by foolishness and some degree of intoxication, not malice. Thus I shall not hold him to account for it. Should he act against me a second time, then I shall not be so merciful. That I promise you."

"Your wisdom is greatly ahead of your years, Majesty." Somerset says, bowing, "I shall ensure that it is done."

"My Lord of Essex," the King turns then to Cromwell, "I should like you to arrange for the drawing up of letters patent to create my Lord of Denbigh Earl of Leicester, for he has acted without fear for his own safety to save my life."

"I shall see to it, Majesty." Cromwell also bows. In a single afternoon, the problem of how to elevate Dudley to a degree that he can marry Elizabeth is resolved. Who shall question such a reward for selfless bravery?

It might not be a grand match, but it shall be a fine wedding, I think. None of the Council would be so churlish as to deny the betrothal - and the King's agreement is already in place. Such a shame that we shall not be present to witness them as man and wife.


If there are any resentful viewers of the ceremony to come, they are not churlish enough to show it. I imagine that, had he not already granted it to me, the King would be making Robert Dudley Earl of Warwick today; but that earldom is now mine, so he has chosen Leicester instead.

Furthermore, he has also decided to grant the Lady Elizabeth a peerage, restoring her mother's peerage to her. Given that it merged with the Crown upon Queen Anne's marriage to the King, and - even had it not disappeared either then or as a result of later events - it was only to be inherited by heirs male, her daughter would not have been able to claim it. I think it is a fitting remembrance of her lost mother, though many still believe her to be guilty of the crimes for which she was blamed. I know that she was not; Cromwell knows that she was not. She was an innocent casualty of a demon's plot, and if her death could have been avoided, then we would have done all we could to prevent it. We have taken care, however, to reduce it in rank to an Earldom to ensure that she does not outrank her hoped-for husband in the peerage, as that would probably throw the whole prospect of nuptials into jeopardy all over again.

Thus, he shall become Earl of Leicester, while she shall be Countess of Pembroke - peers of the same rank, and thus assured that the objections to any marriage between them shall be based mostly upon snobbery. She is - of course - of the king's blood, but the Boleyn line is of similar stock to the Dudleys in terms of their origins and rise to such heights; and, added to the agreement and consent of the Council as much as the King, who would dare to complain?

Queen Jane sits to the side as Edward grants the honours. It is not the first time he has done so - for he invested me not too long ago - but his pride in elevating his elder sister could not be clearer, and the Queen looks proud of them both. Cromwell is pleased to declare the honours that have been granted to them, dressed in his very finest garments, and wearing his own raiments as a Garter Knight. It has not yet been announced that they shall wed - though I have no doubt that it shall not be long before the rumours that are already circulating are found to be right.

The afternoon's council meeting is a productive affair - as it always seems to be these days - and we have received diplomatic approaches concerning the possibility of a deeper union between nations in order to trade more effectively, and to at least try to prevent foolish outbreaks of war. As it is always over land, and claims are usually based upon old family inheritances, invasions or annexations, it seems wise to draw a line under all of it and for everyone to merely accept what they have and be done with it. Needless to say, I cannot see that happening in the near future - if at all; but the negotiations might well keep everyone tied up for a few decades, and the resulting prosperity from unencumbered trade while they are doing so might serve as an example that conflict really is the stupidest means of settling a dispute.

Being at Whitehall, I have my own office again, and I am not surprised when Cromwell comes through from his own, a bottle of sack in his hand, "I think we have little left to do here, Richie. The kingdom is in good hands, Hawk is showing excellent aptitude for learning that which he needs to in order to be most effective, and his Second is proving to be most capable. Our time of employment here is nearly done."

I hand him two cups and he pours out the sack, "If that is so, then I shall need to begin settling my affairs - or do you intend us to do that after we have tendered our resignations?"

He laughs, "No, I shall not change my mind - though I would still intend to offer you another opportunity to change yours, for I suspect that the life of an Itinerant shall be something of a shock. Given that our journey to Milan shall not be a direct route, as the High wrote to me recently to ask me to undertake a circuitous route in order to view and assess how things are in the countries through which we are to travel, we shall be on the road for several months, and we cannot carry much in the way of baggage, for that would make us too tempting to brigands."

"It is not my intention to carry much, Thomas." I promise him, for the idea of adventure is still rather appealing, "Though there are some few items that are most precious to me, and I could not abide to leave them behind."

He nods, "I am similarly encumbered - so I shall arrange for those items to be delivered to the House directly before we depart."

We sit in silence awhile, drinking the sack and pondering what we must do before we can relinquish our roles and depart. Obviously, I must arrange for the distribution of my lands and properties to my children - primarily to Robert, of course, though several of my daughters are yet to marry, and so I must ensure that they are adequately provided for in terms of lands and dowries, particularly my dear little Agnes, still not yet five years of age.

For a moment, my heart constricts as I think of her - after the promises I made to her, I am now to abandon her after all. Perhaps it shall be possible to continue my practice of sending her letters - I am sure that there must be a way to do so.

"What is it, Richie?" Damn. He saw me.

"I was thinking of Agnes." I admit, quietly, "Pondering a means of ensuring that I am still able to send letters to her even while we are travelling. Would the houses that you referred to a while back be suitable places to deposit a letter for onward delivery?"

Cromwell nods, "Of course - for they are used for the very purpose of organising the movement of documents between the House and the Court Silver Swords, and the Itinerants use them as collection points for papers that they require from the spies. There shall be no difficulty in sending word to Agnes should you wish to do so. Certainly they shall be places where you can obtain paper and quills, for writing materials are not easily obtained in any other way. Our travels shall take us to houses regularly, so she can be assured that you shall remain in contact with her."

"Thank you - I am grateful."

"Masters are free to communicate to those who are outside the House, Richie," He advises, "It is only students who must give up their identities as much as their possessions. It may be that you shall not require the same act from your students when you establish the sister House - that is entirely your choice."

I drain the last of my sack, "In which case, I shall devote the rest of the day towards establishing what I must do to ensure that my affairs are fully settled before we depart. Then I shall be ready to undertake the task when we have stepped down from our Court positions."

I am not surprised when Cromwell does not claim that he shall be doing likewise - I imagine that he has long since set arrangements in place, "That is wise; advise me when you are done, for the end of April is near upon us, and it seems meet to step down before the start of May - thus we can take advantage of the kinder summer months to begin our journey."

"And pray to God that it shall not be a wet summer." I add, wryly.


Robert sits back from the papers, and sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes, "There, that is the last of them."

I have not been back to St Bartholomew's since Anne Askew died, but I did not want to undertake these tasks at Whitehall, as we have not yet tendered our resignations to the Regent and the King. The last thing I wish for is rumours to take flight. Gathering the various sheets together, I read through them again to ensure that nothing has been missed, "And so it is done. Upon my departure from these shores, all of my holdings and properties shall pass either to you, or to your siblings, while John shall either become a member of your retinue, or receive a pension as he wishes."

"While I would agree that your dowries for my unmarried sisters are most generous, I think I shall supplement them when the time comes, alongside the properties they shall own." He adds, which fills me with pride, for I could never have been so generous had I been in his position. He is, indeed, a far better man than I used to be. I am glad that he shall inherit an earldom, and a barony. He deserves such titles; even if he has opted not to take up a career at Court. Perhaps that is for the best - he is an excellent businessman, and would do much better in the expanding fields of commerce that peace has allowed us to create, "I shall also set aside the means to support a pension for you should you ever decide to return. If you do not, then it shall pass to Agnes, for I know that her welfare preys upon your mind, does it not, Father?"

Yes - he is a far better man than I.

When I return to Whitehall, I settle before the fireplace in my main chamber, where a small fire burns in deference to the warmer weather. While I have signed away my property, the agreement shall not come into effect until our ship casts off, so I have not entirely cut all ties. Now that our departure is becoming an ever greater reality, I am finding myself nervous at what I have done. My excitement tempered by a growing fear of the unknown, for I have never before left England. By the time I was important enough to accompany the King overseas, he had stopped going.

There is a sealed letter on the table nearby in Winifrede's handwriting, and I know that it shall be a missive from Agnes, for while she is still learning her letters, she has much to say and thus dictates to her elder sister. She does not yet know that I am to leave England, and shall likely never return - and I find myself dreading the moment when I must tell her. She is the last of my children - and I shall all but orphan her. It is a dreadful thought, and one that almost deters me from leaving at all.

I look up at the sound of a knock upon the door, which John opens to reveal Cromwell, "You are having second thoughts, aren't you?" It is a kind question, for he knows me well.

"Not to the degree that I shall change my mind." I reply, "Agnes has taken a tight hold of my heart, and I wish that I did not have to leave her behind. We have been communicating for a considerable time, and her letters tell of her joy when a letter comes to her from me. I neglected my children for most of their lives, and I thank God that they do not hold that against me now - but to leave her with neither mother nor father chills me inside." I stop, for my eyes are filling with tears. Now I am embarrassed.

"The messenger network shall ensure that you can continue to correspond with her, Richie - that need not cease. Once we are abroad, it shall be a simple matter to organise a means of ensuring that her words to you can reach you. I intend to discuss a route with Falcon while we are in Paris, and he can arrange with the messenger houses closest to that route to receive messages for you, as they will do likewise for me so that I can send reports to the High, and receive additional instructions if required while we are travelling. It shall take longer, yes, but it is not impossible."

That causes me to feel a little better, for much of my fears seem to surround that which I am leaving behind, "When do you intend to speak to the Regent and his Majesty?"

"If you are willing," Cromwell says, quietly, "I mean to do it tonight."

He is right - there is little reason now to delay. The Council is stable, the loyalty of the councillors absolute. Edward is learning well, and the Queen Regent is truly unopposed. We are no longer truly needed, for Ambrose Dudley is proving an excellent organiser, and with Cecil alongside him, is more than ready to take command of the various office departments that have begun to shoulder the burdens of governance. Yes, it is indeed safe for us to go.


"Are you quite certain that this is your wish, my Lords?" the Regent asks, a little sadly, for we have formed a central part of her government from the beginning. Beside her, Edward stares at us, quite shocked at the discovery that we are both intending to relinquish our Court posts and leave England.

"Yes, Majesties." Cromwell nods, "I am more than grateful for all that I have been granted by your Majesties, as I was by his late Majesty. The Kingdom is in good hands, and there is nothing now for me to do that cannot be done by younger, sprightlier men than I." He chooses not to refer to that remarkable rejuvenation that was conferred upon him by the light of the Jerusalem Chalice.

"And you, my Lord Rich?" the King asks, "Is this also your decision?"

"It is, Majesty." I confirm, "As his Grace of Essex has stated, we have given our best to England, and it is time for us to step aside, for there are others now who are equally able to do so. I think it safe to say that we should now serve England from the House, ensuring that no demon shall ever find her undefended."

"We have considered this decision most carefully, Majesty," Cromwell advises, "and we agreed from the outset that we would not depart until we felt truly assured that England would be safe. My replacement is well settled now, as is his Second. It does not serve a Court well for the retired Silver Sword to be still present after the new one has taken up his post."

I suspect that Edward intends to offer additional objections, but then he turns to his mother, and sees the look upon her face, for she has accepted our decision, and he realises that he must, too. His father might have been less accepting, of course - but the Regent understands that our mission now lies elsewhere, and so we must be permitted to go.

"If that is your decision," he says, eventually, in the most formal of tones, "then we shall accept it. Know, however, that we are most grateful to you - more grateful than we can truly express, for your steadfast service to our late liege Lord, our beloved mother, and to us." Then he sighs, for he is but eleven years old, "And know that you shall be most heartily missed, by those of us who truly know the service you have given England. But for you, I would not even be alive."

We both bow deeply, "It has been the greatest of honours to serve, Majesty." Cromwell advises, speaking for us both, "I have done all that I can to ensure that those who follow us are of the highest calibre; and thus it shall be as though we are present, even though we are not."

"No, my Lords." The Regent smiles, "Who could ever be as remarkable as you? Go safely, and with our blessing. I give you my word as both a Queen and the daughter of a Gentleman that your secret shall be preserved, and that neither I, nor the King, shall speak of your mission to anyone. Not even to our heirs."

We bow again, Cromwell thanking her once more, and withdraw. Thus it is done - from this day forth, we are no longer Court officials, but instead private individuals who are free to depart.

Thus I can say with absolute certainty, that life shall never be the same again.