William kicked the tufts of grass. He thought he saw traces of brown. This was so unlike the lush, green Westcountry. London desperately needed rain. He glanced at the sky. It was completely cloud covered but not a drop of water fell.
William was not in a good humour. The sailors recognised his mood and hurried to load the Swallow with enough food and stores for an oceanic voyage. St. Katherine's dock was a hive of activity. William hunted out the dockyard attendant. The man noticed him and attempted to scurry off. William would have none of it. He pounced and seized the man by the arm.
"I am afraid that I am busy, Captain." The attendant tried to disengage his arm but William held it firm.
"Too bad," William said, rudely. "Those spars, there, are rotten and warped. I am not putting to sea until you produce some decent wood." He pointed to a stack of materiel.
"That's the best I've got. Take it or leave it. Think you that I have premium stores for every provincial who blows in to town? You may be a big man in Plymouth, sunshine, but this is London." The attendant sneered.
William took a firm hold of the attendant's shirt and lifted him on tiptoe.
"Unhand me or Cousin Jacob and a dozen of his men will be out to fix you, Captain," said the attendant, completely unfazed.
William considered calling up a few of his crew to show the man what real violence looked like but he realised that he had a better way to enforce his will. He dropped the man and patted him down.
"That's better," said the attendant, smugly.
"Fair enough, I'll just go up to the Tower and tell Sir Francis Walsingham that I can't obey his orders. It can't be done because some dockyard whoreson has taken his money and cheated him out of decent stores. I'll do that shall I?"
"Sir Francis Walsingham is the backer of this cruise?" The attendant licked his lips.
"The very same. You know the one; sits at the right hand of Her Majesty, has an office in the Tower, runs the scariest spy service in Europe, puts traitors on the rack before beheading them. That Walsingham—you must have heard of him. No doubt he will be well impressed when you threaten him with Cousin Jacob."
"No need to do anything hasty, Captain," the attendant said, ingratiatingly. "Perhaps I can locate what you need."
"Excellent," said William. "I thought we could arrive at a satisfactory solution. I have some business up at the Tower but I'll be back in some little while to see how you are getting on."
The Tower was just a few minutes walk as the raven flies but the whole point of a fortification is that one can't just walk into it in a straight line. It was a good half hour before William conferred with the gunner at the armoury.
"Captain," said the gunner, touching his cap.
William watched a crocodile of sea dogs moving barrels and bags of shot on small carts. "Everything in order, gunner?"
"Yes, sir. The armourers have been most helpful. We will be fully loaded with munitions by tomorrow."
"Good, well—carry on, gunner."
William continued up the Tower Hill to the north curtain wall where Walsingham had his apartments. He found Simon Tunstall, who was greeting a florid, rather round man. The fellow looked like a countryman, come up to market.
"Captain Hawkins, may I introduce Master Paxman. Master Paxman, this is Captain Hawkins of the galleon Swallow."
The two men shook hands and exchanged conventional greetings. "Are you by any chance related to . . ."
"John Hawkins is my cousin," said William. He was used to the question and he answered with good grace, as he was proud of his cousin.
"Ah," said the countryman.
"Master Paxman farms a sizable number of acres in the county of Surrey," said Simon. "This is his daughter, Margaret."
The girl looked about thirteen but was probably a year or two older. William gravely bowed to her. "Greetings, lady."
"Your servant, sir," she squeaked nervously, and attempted a curtsey.
"You are up to town on business?" William said to the farmer, in effort to make conversation.
"In a manner of speaking, sir," said the farmer, expansively. "It is my intention to betroth my daughter to Master Tunstall and we await Sir Francis Walsingham's blessing."
William could not have been more astonished if the farmer had announced his intention of declaring war on France and leading a force of crack cowherds to assault Paris. "My, ah, felicitations, Master Tunstall." Then realising how weak that sounded added, "Warmest congratulations. Let me look at the bride to be."
She really was a pretty little thing, although clearly exceedingly nervous. "My, my, how beautiful she is, Simon, no wonder that you kept her well hidden from all us rough sailors. Ah well, another dainty little fish swept from the sea."
"Thank you, William," said Simon. At that point a servant beckoned. "I believe Sir Francis will see us now, if you will excuse us."
Simon showed the Paxmans into Walsingham's reception room. Sir Francis and Lucy were present. "Sir Francis, may I introduce Master Paxman and his daughter Margaret." The men bowed and Margaret curtseyed. "Mistress Paxman regrettably died earlier this year."
"My condolences, sir. This is my niece, Lady Dennys," said Walsingham, setting off another exchange of bows and curtseys. "Wine for my guests." A servant hastened to comply. "She is a dainty catch, Simon," said Walsingham gallantly. "How fortunate you are."
Poor Margaret blushed again. Probably, she had not ever received so much attention in all her short life. Walsingham tactfully turned to Simon. "And what brings your new bride to the Tower, sir? Are there not prettier places in London to visit?"
"I will take her to see the crown jewels later," Simon said. "But first, we have come to ask your permission to marry."
"But there is no legal requirement for my permission," said Walsingham.
"Nevertheless, I ask it," said Simon.
"Well, well, then you shall have it," said Walsingham, clearly pleased with the respect that he had been shown as Simon's patron. "I consider this a good match. You are an excellent young man and the girl is worthy of you. How old is your betrothed?"
"Margaret is fifteen, Excellency. But she will turn sixteen this autumn," said Paxman.
"So you will marry when you return from the Americas?" Walsingham asked. It was unnecessary to add the qualifier "if you return from the Americas." Simon assented. "Have you sufficient funds to keep a wife? You will continue to live at Barn Elms when convenient, of course, but you should also have your own establishment."
"Master Paxman is to settle a farm on his daughter for a dowry," said Simon.
"Even so," said Walsingham. "A wife is expensive and with such a pretty young wife there will soon be more mouths to feed." He chuckled. "We must think of a suitable wedding present for you and an increase in your stipend."
Margaret was blushing again and looking increasing uncomfortable. Lucy spoke for the first time, seeing her distress. "Fie, Mistress Paxman. The men will now discuss the sordid details of money and contracts that are so unbecoming for a young lady's ears."
Lucy waved a hand, airily, to indicate her distaste for such matters. She took a firm grip on the young girl's arm and propelled her out of the door. "Take you a turn in the grounds with me and tell me all about yourself. We shall be firm friends when you come to live at Barn Elms."
The farmer watched them go with an expression of deep satisfaction. The Dennys family held considerable landholdings in Surrey and Master Paxman knew exactly who they were. Simon knew that he brought little in the way of material wealth to the match but he brought something just as important—connections. Few farmers' daughters from the county would ever meet the likes of Lady Dennys, let alone be "firm friends" with them. Master Paxman would consider his gift of a farm an excellent investment. Margaret began to relax and giggle at some sally of Lucy's as the pair moved out of sight into the Tower's grounds.
Lucy kept Margaret close to the apartments, engaging her in conversation, so that they were at hand when Simon and his future father-in-law emerged into the courtyard some moments later.
"Will you take your betrothed on a sightseeing tour now, Master Tunstall?" asked Lucy. "If so, may I act as guide? I have spent some little time here on my own lately and I have explored. Did you know that they have a wonderful map of London in the library? After examining it, one can go right to the top of the turret and see London spread before you, just like the map."
"I thought access to the turrets was restricted," said Simon.
"So it is," said Lucy. "But I have discovered that a bearer of the Queen's ring can go almost anywhere." She held her hand up her hand.
"The Queen herself gave you that," said Paxman, clearly impressed.
"Off her own finger," said Lucy, proudly. She then laughed. "You must think me very boastful, Master Paxman."
"Not I don't, Lady Dennys, not at all." He clearly meant it. The farmer obviously belonged to the "if you've got it, flaunt it" school.
"Shall we go?" Lucy said. "I suggest we first see the chapel where Anne Boleyn prayed before her execution. I am a distant cousin of the lady."
Simon offered Lucy his arm. "What, sir, you offer me your arm when your betrothed stands unescorted? How ungallant of you. No doubt Master Paxman will do me the honour of his arm." The farmer hastened to accede.
"My apologies, madam. I am unused to my situation. Please allow me." Simon bowed to Margaret and took her arm. Lucy led off, chatting animatedly, her hand resting lightly on Paxman's arm. The farmer had insisted on being present with his daughter at the interview with Walsingham. He was a careful man and wished to assess Simon's position in Walsingham's favour with his own eyes. Simon approved; a prudent man would raise a prudent daughter. Lucy had copper-bottomed Simon's suit.
Paxman had ambitions to be president of the county fair at which the more prominent farmers and tradesmen displayed their produce. Next time the committee met, Simon knew that Paxman would wax most lyrical about the time he escorted Lady Dennys around the Tower of London. The wives of the committee members would want Lucy's clothes, jewellery, and manner described most closely. The other contenders for the presidential chain would be hard-pressed to match this coup.
Simon allowed Lucy and Paxman to move ahead so he could talk to Margaret alone. Propriety meant that he had exchanged few private conversations with the girl. They passed a gaggle of sailors struggling with casks. The sailors were used to Lucy and gave her only passing glances but they gazed at Margaret with interest. Simon pulled her in tighter to him. She looked up at him, slightly puzzled. He smiled at her and she smiled shyly back at him. The match had been arranged for all sorts of practical and sensible reasons. But he was surprised to find that he also found her adorable.
"Lucy, gentlemen, these council of wars are becoming a habit." Walsingham said. "You have even started sitting in favourite seats. So, Captain, when can you sail?"
"Tomorrow's tide, Sir Francis. The pilot's advice is that we use the afternoon's outgoing tide to assist us down the Thames. I will give my crew shore leave tonight."
"I see. Is that wise?"
"Not at all, but it is traditional and to deny them would only provoke insubordination."
Walsingham nodded. "Then there is the matter of my niece. Have you chosen a companion, Lucy?"
"Millie, my maid, has consented to accompany me, Uncle."
"And where will the ladies be accommodated on the ship, Captain?"
"At night, Lady Dennys and her companion will sleep in my cabin. I will have a gentleman's berth. During the day, I will need my cabin back as it is my office but I do not think that this will inconvenience the ladies overmuch."
"I understand that the crew sleep on the deck. Gwilym, you will sleep outside the door to the ladies' cabin. You will kill anyone who attempts to enter when they are inside."
"I assure you that I maintain strict discipline aboard, Sir Francis. The women will be as safe as if they were at Barn Elms," said William.
"My niece would not be going with you if I did not believe that to be so, Captain. Nevertheless, Gwilym has his orders."
William nodded. It would not hurt for everyone to know how the land lay.
"Lady Dennys, I suggest that you and your maid sleep onboard Swallow tonight. That way you can try out what we have to offer and allow us to fix any omissions in our hospitality before we leave. Once at sea, we only have what we have, milady." William smiled at her.
"So, Lucy, its almost midday. Let's put your demon through her paces," Walsingham said. "Are you ready?"
"Yes, Uncle," said Lucy. She sat down cross-legged on the floor and put Dee's candle in front of her. Walsingham lit it from a fuse and then retreated. Lucy put her hands on her knees, palm out.
"Are you ready, Lilith?" asked Lucy out loud, so that the whole room could hear.
'I want you to hold "C"' for me, Lucy. Hold it as long as you can,' thought Lilith.
William watched Lucy take a deep breath. She sounded a note. At first, it slipped up and down the scale but it eventually steadied on a pure tune. The candle flame danced and flickered then shimmered in time to the note. Lucy's voice faded away but the flame held a steady harmonic.
'This is extraordinary,' thought Lilith. 'The properties of the subatomic particles that make up the burning gasses are aligning in colour, charm, and spin. I don't really mean colour or spin, Lucy. These are just words to describe properties of particles. All I am doing is flooding the area with gravitons to power the process.'
'Lilith, you are not making any sense,' thought Lucy.
'Quantum mechanics isn't supposed to make sense. I mean that the vibrations of the things that make up the flame are all lining up like marching soldiers instead of a chaotic mob, which is their normal condition. I am beginning to see how demonic magic works; maybe I am a demon after all. Try talking into the candle. Your voice will set up vibrations that will change the alignments of the particles in the flame. If the candles are tuned, as Dee claims, then the same should happen at his end and he should hear your voice.'
"Doctor Dee, can you hear me? One, two, three, um, Mary had a little lamb."
"Of course I can hear you. What is it about telephonic candles that make people talk drivel into them." Dee's voice sounded from the flame. "Five thousand years of thaumatological research so that you can transmit nursery rhymes."
"Sorry, Doctor." Lucy apologised but her companions could see she was smothering giggles.
"Very well. I think we can agree that the trial is successful. Blow out your candle. We can't afford to waste them."
"Yes, Doctor. Bye." Lucy blew and the flame flared yellow and went out.
"So," said Walsingham. "You sail tomorrow then, Captain. No doubt you have much to occupy yourself." Walsingham dismissed him. "Would you stay behind for a moment, Lucy?"
Walsingham waited until they were alone, well almost alone except for Gwilym, who went where Lucy went. The ancients used to call slaves "furniture with tongues" because foolish men forgot the tongues and suffered for their error when the slaves spoke of secrets best unrevealed. Walsingham had no worries about Gwilym because he was not a slave but a trusted retainer, tied by loyalties of blood and honour to Walsingham's household.
"Are you sure of this, Lucy? It is not too late to express doubts. Even now I can remove you from the enterprise."
"Hush, Uncle," Lucy touched his lips with her fingers. "Without me there is no enterprise. I am content."
Lucy rested her hand on William's arm as they walked the length of the waist deck. Her maid and Gwillym were but four paces behind, deep in conversation. "Do you still want to come now you have tasted shipboard food?" asked William.
"The meal was—" Lucy groped for an appropriate word. "—extraordinary, that's it, extraordinary."
William threw back his head and laughed, "I will pass on your compliments to the cook."
"Where do you keep the oven?" asked Lucy. "I would have thought fire exceeding dangerous on a wooden, tarred vessel."
"Indeed it is. For that reason fires are traditionally restricted to deep within the vessel's hull, near the wet ballast. However, there are appalling noxious vapours there. Disease is as big a risk as fire on a crowded ship and has killed more sailors. Drake has pioneered methods to reduce sickness. One innovation is to move the oven to the fo'c's'le, which is where I place it."
Lucy walked over to the rail and looked towards the tower. The lights of London, Southwark, and the Bridge twinkled onto their reflections in the river. "They are like diamonds on a string around a brunette's neck," she said. "Or fairy lights."
"Your eyes shine more brightly, milady." William moved a little closer and took her hand. "Lucy, there is something I have been thinking about."
A drunken voice from the dock spoiled the atmosphere.
"So the little pixie said, you think I'm very small,
"but when I'm in the mood, maid, I'll tell you true what's tall."
The voice trailed off. "Ahoy the ship. Some worzle-banger has stolen the gangplank. Nah, here it is, they moved it. I'm coming aboard, ready or not and I'll fight the first man tha's gets in my way."
William craned his neck around Lucy and saw a drunken sailor wearing a woman's petticoats weaving up the gangplank. "Ferguson, again. I hope the drunken bastard falls in," William muttered. Two boatswain's mates made their way purposefully to the top of the gangplank. "Come over here, Lady Dennys." He steered the girl to the other side of the ship. William put his back against the rail and stood her in front of him so she looked at him and past him, to the river and lights of Southwark.
"Shouldn't you go and deal with that?" asked Lucy.
"Absolutely not," said William, appalled. "I would have to hang a drunken sailor for mutiny if he hit me. The boatswain's mates will deal with him." The cries reached a crescendo. There was the sound of a fist hitting human flesh and the thud of a body hitting the deck.
William paused to allow the miscreant to be dragged off. "I believe I can escort you to your quarters now, milady."
Lucy took her arm and led her to his cabin. Gwilym was sat with his back against the bulkhead by the door, whittling with a dagger.
"Good night, my lady," William said.
She extended her hand. He kissed it and she vanished within.
"Good night, Gwilym," said William.
"Captain." Gwilym inclined his head.
William left to make the rounds of the deck before retiring to the gentleman's cabin.
Later that night, Lilith noted that Lucy was tossing and turning. The girl was very excited.
'Would you like me to help you sleep,' Lilith asked.
'Yes, please. Lilith,' thought Lucy. 'Don't you ever sleep?'
'No, not really. I spend time in resting where I update and sort files into archives before new data comes in, but I never shut down the way you do.' Lilith gently smoothed Lucy's brain waves into sleep patterns.
'Do you know why we sleep?' Lucy asked.
'That's a very good question that I am not sure that I can answer. You need physical rest, of course, but I suspect you unconsciously update your own memory archives while you are asleep. Lucy?'
Lucy didn't answer. Lilith touched her brain and felt the wave pattern. 'Sleep tight my friend,' she thought, softly, and withdrew within herself.
The next day Lucy was up with the dawn. William had suffered a busy night, having been dragged from his bunk to deal with the last of the shore-leave dregs. "You look refreshed, milady," he said, sourly. The only thing worse than a bad head in the morning was wide-eyed, happy people around.
"What are you doing?" asked Lucy.
William sat behind a desk that had been placed on the main deck. The boatswain stood beside him. "Punishment parade. After the traditional last run ashore comes the traditional captain's punishment parade. Now go over there, milady, while I undertake my duties."
Two boatswain's mates hauled a sailor at the double up before the desk. He was having trouble putting one foot in front of the other, partly because he still wore a lady's petticoat. He stood swaying in front of the captain. William observed him like a natural philosopher finding a new type of beetle. "Ferguson, again! What is it with you, sailor? Do you like punishment parade?" asked William.
"No, sir," came the reply.
"Charges?" asked William.
"Drunkenness, sir, and calling a petty officer a whoreson."
"These are serious charges, Ferguson," said William, gravely. "I notice you have a black eye. How did you acquire that?"
"Fell over, sir," the sailor said, adjusting his petticoat.
"So you have no quarrel with your treatment last night?"
"No, sir."
"You know the routine by now. Will you accept my punishment or do you want to claim your entitlement to a trial ashore?"
"Your punishment, sir."
"Very well. You're a disgrace to the ship, to your fellow sailors and to me. You are banned from another shore run for two weeks and will be on punishment duty for a week. Dismissed. No, don't try to salute. Just go."
'Why is he banning shore leave for the man when the ship will be at sea anyway?' thought Lilith.
'I am not sure. It's some sort of man thing. Punishment must be given even if it is meaningless. But we have been dismissed by our new supreme commander—go over there while I undertake my duties, hah!—so, I suggest we go into town. Where are Millie and Gwilym?'
Later that morning, William made his way towards the Tower. He had not seen Lucy go and was slightly miffed that she had disappeared before he could talk to her. Women were so capricious, flouncing off for no apparent reason. William managed to drag the walk to the Tower out to a full hour, for no better reason than he needed time to think and gather his courage. Drake had once told him that there was a time for a quick dash and a time for the long campaign and he had wisely chosen the latter strategy when dealing with Lucy Dennys. But Drake had also said that bold attack was the end point of any campaign and that one should never mistake dithering for wisdom. He was now dithering and it had to stop.
He plotted a course to Walsingham's office and put himself on a fast tack. Then he bumped into someone. "Ah, Lady Dennys. I didn't see you leave."
"You said go over there so I went, Captain."
"Yes but I didn't mean," He was floundering again. He took a firm grip on his mouth. "I need to talk to you. I have to tell you something."
"Indeed, captain. I am sure that I am at your disposal, as I always am when you have a short gap in the endless list of responsibilities."
"Lucy, please be quiet," he said, desperately.
She obediently shut her mouth in mock fear.
Now or never. "I have to tell you, that I about to inform your uncle, that when I get back, that is when we get back, from the Americas that is . . ."
"Is this going somewhere? Because we sail in only three hours," she asked, interurpting.
"I am about to tell your uncle that I will ask for your hand when we return," said William, in one rush.
She just stood there and looked at him, mouth open.
"I was going to mention it to you first but you had gone somewhere," William said, rather weakly.
"Mention it to me, sir, mention it to me? You thought you might mention it to me?" she said, her voice rising and disturbing a flock of starlings.
"Well, it seemed polite," said William.
"Polite!"
"Marriage arrangements are a matter between men," he said, stiffly, realising that she was not entirely happy with his decision.
"Is it so? In that case, mayhap you should marry a man and leave me out of it altogether," she said, hotly.
"Lucy," he began.
"Don't 'Lucy' me, you arrogant, self-opinionated, self-centred, cocksure provincial. I am Lady Dennys to you. What makes you think that I am destined for the likes of you? How dare you take this step without a by-your-leave?"
The sparrows departed to a gentler place. Tower officials and guards stopped to watch and enjoy the sparks. Gwilym examined the sky.
"I do not like your tone, milady. When we are married you will, perforce, moderate it," William said.
"When this business is finished, you will not have to suffer my tone again. We will not meet again," she said, with finality.
"When this business is finished, we will marry." William said coldly. He was used to being treated with a degree of deference, not as an upstart yokel.
"And where would we live? Will you be taking a house in Surrey and presenting yourself at court? How good are you at poetry, Captain? Or would you expect to dump me among the hogs and your cast-off tavern girls in Plymouth, while you went a-roving? I would as soon as marry an Irish tinker as you." Lucy looked him boldly in the eye.
"I will marry you, milady, even though you be a shrew that no other man will tolerate." William was white with anger. He grabbed her by the upper arms.
"Shrew, am I? Unhand me, sir," she said, equally furious.
"Because you say so? Mayhap you have too often had free with your will, milady. Now I will have free with mine."
Lucy opened her mouth to express her opinion on that, when he pulled her to him and pressed his mouth hard on hers. All the girl got out was an outraged squawk. He took his time with the kiss, despite her struggles. When he released her, she stepped back, panting and wide-eyed.
"Your servant, milady," he said, insincerely. William bowed and walked off leaving her with an open mouth.
Lucy stamped her foot. "Insufferable man."
Lilith just did not know what to say. Lucy's thoughts were a maelstrom that was painful to interpret. Emotion after emotion chased across her head. Lilith was not sure whether to comment or stay silent. Lucy was liable to misinterpret either strategy. Lilith began to appreciate the terrible complexity of human mating behaviour. It was even worse than she had anticipated. Eventually, Lucy solved her dilemma by addressing her first.
'Did you see what he did?' Lucy's thoughts emoted outrage.
'I was aware of the situation,' thought Lilith, as neutrally as she could.
'In public! To manhandle me in public!'
'Surely, it would have been improper in private.' Lilith thought without due consideration, and Lucy pounced on it.
'It is even more improper in public. He treated me like a tavern girl.'
'But why did you let him then, Lucy, if it offended you so?' Lilith was confused. 'Why did you not just push him away?'
'How could I, demon? He is twice my size.'
'Twice your size perhaps, but you are twice his strength, are you not?' There was a long pause while another set of complex emotions flickered across Lucy's consciousness. Lilith continued. 'I was close enough to monitor his physiology, his blood pressure, heartbeat, and skin conductivity. It seems to me, Lucy, that you struggled just enough to cause maximum impact on his biochemistry but not enough to escape. Is that a component of human mating behaviour?'
'Lilith, I will evict you if you speak to me of this again, even though it kills us both.'
"Come in," said Walsingham in reply to William's knock. "Ah, Captain."
William marched over to Walsingham's desk and came to attention stiffly in front of it, like a sailor on punishment parade. Walsingham noted his pallor.
"Sir," said William formerly. "I beg your indulgence to speak to you on a matter concerning your niece."
"Yes, Captain," said Walsingham, warily, pressing his hands together as if in prayer.
"I wish to inform you that I intend to ask for your niece's hand upon my return from the Americas."
Walsingham blinked.
"I am sure that I am hardly your idea of a perfect suitor. I could point out the advantage of a marriage alliance between the Boleyn and Hawkins clans, in the event of war with Spain. I could point out that Lady Dennys has shown scant interest in any of the aristocratic suitors placed before here. I could point out that many of the aristocracy might no longer favour an alliance with her, given the rumours that must already be circulating."
At this point, William noted that Walsingham's lips tightened. "But I will restrict myself to the following observation. I have fought alongside the lady. I have seen her courage and humanity. I have seen her laugh and cry and observed her triumphs and failures. I admire her more than any woman that I have ever met and I believe I can make her happy."
"So you love her, Captain." Walsingham observed. He sighed and pressed his hands against his eyes before continuing. "I should have anticipated that, Lucy is very appealing. But affection is an uncertain basis for a marriage, especially where there are so many other conflicting factors. You and she live in different worlds, you must see that."
William met his eyes boldly. "Then think of the political disadvantages of rejecting the suit, sir. The message it sends out is that we in Plymouth are good enough to officer your ships and to fight your battles but not to marry your daughters."
Walsingham came to a decision. "We will talk of this on your return, captain."
"Sir!" William turned to go.
"Captain." Walsingham stopped him. The spymaster seemed to have difficulty framing his next statement, which was most unlike him. "You will look after her on this voyage, won't you?" Walsingham was almost pleading.
"Sir," said William. "If harm comes to Lady Dennys, it will be because I am already dead. I have to prepare, if you will excuse me, sir." William saluted and left, his back ramrod straight.
As soon as he was clear, Lucy slid into the room.
"I take it you heard all that?" Walsingham said.
Lucy nodded and bit her lip. "I was outside the window."
"Our family has always believed that forewarned is forearmed. We ought to put it on the coat of arms," said Walsingham, dryly. Lilith thought the man looked tired. "Well, this is a pretty pickle that you have created, Lucy, and no mistake."
"He is a good man," said Lucy, defensively.
"That he is," said Walsingham. "A good man for a Plymouth pirate. For that is what he is, my girl, once you strip the romance away from his profession."
"He is right, though, Uncle. War with Spain is coming and that war will be fought at sea. How many of our ships will be designed, built, owned, or officered by the Plymouth families?" Lucy had spent too much time at court and around Walsingham to be politically naive.
"About two-thirds to three-quarters," answered Walsingham.
"And what will happen if Spain makes a rapprochement with the Hawkins clan?" Lucy said.
"That is hardly likely." Walsingham waved a hand dismissively. "Elizabeth's government and the Hawkins family are united in the new religion. John Hawkins and Drake have much reason to hate papists."
"Perhaps, but political advantage can make strange bedfellows. What if Philip promised Plymouth that they could keep their religion and gave them trading rights in the Americas?"
"I am not unaware of the need to bind the London aristocracy and the Plymouth naval families together, Lucy. Do you remember when Hatton made a joke about knighting Drake? I wonder whether we should not take the idea seriously. Sir Francis Drake and Sir John Hawkins might sit well in Plymouth."
"Possibly, but let us not be mealy-mouthed, Uncle. The coinage of diplomacy is gold, treaties, fortresses, and women's bodies. And of these, women's bodies are the most durable because gold is spent, treaties are broken, and fortresses fall, but the children we produce unite families forever." Lucy turned and walked to the window.
There was a long silence. "You seem to be arguing that I should permit this alliance on political grounds. But there is your happiness to consider, Lucy."
Lucy had her back to her uncle, where she could see out of the window. In the distance, William was taking his temper out on a company of Swallows who had failed to carry out their arms drill to a sufficient standard. He had his back to her, head thrust aggressively forward, left hand on his hip, right on his sword hilt. Lilith picked up her thoughts. 'An arrogant, confident man, born to command other men.' A final echo disappeared below her consciousness, 'Born to command other men and women.'
Lucy spoke to her uncle without turning around, "I would not be the first girl who had to lie back and think of England." She paused and Lilith noticed that a small smile played around her lips. "But you know, Uncle, it might not be so bad."