The moonlight danced on the water, and the cliff mimicked the end of the world, Elizabeth thought, and if everything stopped right now, she was perfectly fine with it. She was here, with Jack. She was weak, she thought. With all the troubles in the kingdom, all the worries and concerns, here she was, lost in the moment for herself. She hated thinking she was so far removed from her family and their downright depressing view of duty, knowing full well she was not. Of all people, she understood the responsibility that was hers and hers alone, but a part of her longed to be free of it. "What will I do?" She said, truly questioning Jack. He was sitting in the low branches of the oak tree, carving a piece of wood with a pocket knife, and it was still unrecognizable as anything other than a piece of wood.
"Do what you always do." Elizabeth shirked, shaking her head. "As you always have done." Jack told her, fiddling with the wood in his hands.
"And what would that be? Allow myself to be eternally torn between my sense of duty and my desire for freedom?" She paused, and turned to look at Jack.
"Act as your conscience dictates." He said plainly. Elizabeth acknowledged his statement as pure truth. He stopped carving and placed the half finished item in his pocket, jumping down from the tree.
Jack took her hands at the wrists, trying to settle her down. He pulled her to sit, and joined her in the grass beneath the oak. He took her left hand into his and held it up in the moonlight, studying it intently. He turned it from one angle to another, back and forth, changing his expression each time. Elizabeth though his behavior quite bizarre, and giggled at him.
"What are you doing?" She said, still g\laughing under her breath.
"You know, your highness, I am a traveled man. I have been to the shores of Africa, the ports of Asia and the ruins of Greece. And in my travels, I have become most educated in various cultures and customs of the world's people." Jack was telling a story, much like he always did, surrounding the adventures he had as a boy traveling intermittently with his mother and grandfather to the most exotic of places. All the while, continuing to study her hand. "A gypsy woman in Madrid told me that everything a person has done, wants to do and will do is all written here," he held her hand at an angle to show her, "in the palm of your hand."
"Nonsense." She laughed.
Jack was serious, well, at least she thought so for the moment. He began to point out lines on her hand. "This one is your life line." He traced it softly along her palm with one finger, glancing up at her with his eyes.
"And what does it say?" Elizabeth inquired, meeting his glance with a flirtatious one of her own.
"Well, it says you will be rich," she began to laugh, "powerful, and I dare say, in control of your own destiny. It says that even though the world seems thrust upon you, you will always be victorious." His speech was eloquent and serious although he always had a punch line, and this was no exception. "And it says quite plainly that you will not marry a pale faced, slimy souled, small hearted goat waste like Cutler Beckett…" Elizabeth laughed harder.
"Whom then, shall I marry?" she asked.
"It does not say," Jack studied her hand as if looking for it to actually say something. He began to sensually unbutton her sleeve, revealing the bracelet that she was given earlier. Elizabeth was silent as Jack moved her sleeve up and revealed her arm. "You must look to the love line to see that." He extended her arm out, holding it by her wrist, and pulled it almost straight, until the tips of her fingers touched his chest above his heart. With his other hand he traced a line starting at her finger tips.
"The love line begins here, and" he continued tracing down her arm, moving closer to her, "along here," he kept tracing softly, "down here," and finished the line at her heart, touching it with his one finger, "and ends here." His face was inches from hers, she smiled slightly, caught in his eyes, and he in hers. "It is one," he kissed her cheek on the right, close to her lips, "continuous," then the other cheek near her lips, "unending" then her forehead, "unbreakable," then her lips, "line." She kissed him this time and they stayed there together, under the oak, until just before sunrise.
"Lady Elizabeth!!" Yelled Bess, bursting into the princess's room. Every night for the last week and a half, Elizabeth had spent out on the moor with Jack. Her time with him was limited with all of her new duties at court. And though she missed him reading to her and dancing under the oak to the soft music, she rather liked her new way of being with him. It was just them, without the formality of court that they had to endure during the day. At night, they could just be. Just Jack and Elizabeth, not the princess and the earl of Essex. And last night was no different, she was out until the wee hours of the morning. Elizabeth slowly rose to address the ruckus. She could hear crying and screaming outside the castle walls and it became clearer to her as she awoke further. She shook off the sleepiness and replaced it with determination. She threw on her robe, "There are hundreds of them, crying for help from their sovereign, hundreds of them, my lady.." Bess was visibly shaken, she had never seen such a sight as this in her life. Elizabeth, touched her arm and began to walk from her room down the long hallway to the main ballroom, and then out to the castle gates where the people waited, crying and yelling for the royals. She was met along the way by Walsingham, her chief advisor and body guard whom she had known since her childhood. He was a loyal and trusted friend to her family and came immediately to offer advice and information.
"The outlying village of Hempstead was attacked five days ago by the Scottish. It was said that they left no survivors, but indeed there are, Lady Elizabeth." He stopped her, grabbed her hand and turned her to face him, "Only some of the women and children….only some.." Elizabeth acknowledged his look.
"Does my father know about this?"
"Not yet, he has been in chambers all morning regarding recent news from abroad." The reached the gates. The screaming was louder and the wailing made Elizabeth nervous. It was if it were opening night for a new play and she was the star everyone came to see. All eyes were on her right now and she knew it. She only hoped she had half of the ability to soothe the people as her brother did. Walsingham made one last comment, "They are looking to you, my dear, to ease their suffering..." Elizabeth looked down at her wrist, reminding her of the old woman and her willingness to give of herself to her country. She was filled with purpose.
"Open the gate…" Elizabeth ordered.
As the gates opened and the doors retracted, she began to see the faces of the people. Her people. Women and children, bloodied and bruised. Dirty from the long journey. Babies wailing from hunger, mothers begging for the lives of their children. At the front of this chaos, a black horse stood tall, his rider, the Earl of Essex, holding a child in his arms whose leg was badly burned. She was proud of him. He looked the part of a nobleman, or dare she say a prince. Jack looked at Elizabeth, nodding at her in encouragement.
Elizabeth attempted to quiet the crowd, finally asking the guards to fire a shot into the air to get their attention. As the crowd silenced, Elizabeth spoke, "My dear subjects. It is with much sorrow that I greet you this morning, and though my heart is heavy from your losses, it is thankful for your sacrifice, and your courage. Here you will find food, shelter and care for your wounded." She took a baby from the arms of a mother, touching that woman's face with her hand, acknowledging her. "Make way through the gates…." She motioned to them and the castle servants greeted the people, helping them in. Jack handed the child to one of those servants whispering a command for the child's care. He walked over to Elizabeth. She was still speaking to the people as they walked through the gate.
"They came from Hempstead."
"Yes, I know."
"The battle at Hempstead?" Jack was curious why she was so complacent about it.
"An outlying village just near the Scottish border. Walsingham tells me it was attacked just five days ago. Could you imagine walking all that way wounded, carrying your child? Hungry? Cold.."
"Has no one told you?" Jack asked her. She looked at him curiously.
"Told me what?"
"Lady Elizabeth, your father is asking you be brought to counsel immediately." Walsingham interrupted. And he began to whisk Elizabeth away. Jack stopped her, with a look more serious than ever she had seen. She fought Walsingham's grasp and moved back to Jack. Walsingham stood there, knowing full well what was about to happen.
"Told me what, Jack?"
Jack moved closer to her, consoling her with his eyes. He didn't say a word. He knew she could read his thoughts. His face said it all.
Walsingham pulled her away, and she stumbled as she began to think the worst…..