them. His hunchback form was unmistakable. For months, the whole city had talked of naught but the bloodless battles between this man and the Earl of Essex. If he was here to see me—or I to see him—I dreaded to know why.
Robert Cecil, the Earl of Salisbury, the queen’s closest councillor and chief secretary, was the avowed enemy of Elizabeth’s former favored courtier, Robert Devereaux, Lord Essex, and his compatriot the Earl of Southampton, the men who had led the rebellion against her. It was through Cecil that the two earls had been arrested and rightly so. It was through Cecil that Will’s patron, the Earl of Southampton, was being held prisoner in the Tower under the same terrible charges as his friend Essex.
“That is all,” Cecil spoke to the woman, who scurried away.
I remembered to curtsy. I was pleased it was quite a steady one because my legs were starting to shake. I saw we were not alone; two men—guards or secretaries?—sat at another table off to my left side. Had I been snared in a trap baited with the promise of royal garments only to be summoned to an inquisition?
“I do indeed have the pieces of cast-off wardrobe for the players you were promised, Mistress Whateley,” Cecil said as if he’d read my mind. “I do not speak untruths or half-truths, and I pray you will not either. I must inform you that, since Her Majesty much enjoys the talents of the Globe’s players, I can only hope they will be able to remain at large to put the royal items to good use as costumes in their dramas.”
After that initial assault, I could scarce catch my air. The memory of my dear, doomed girlhood friend Kat leaped into my mind’s eye, for I felt like that—trapped, floating face up, exposed, bereft of help, hope or even breath.
“Fetch a seat for Mistress Whateley, Thompson,” Cecil said, and a man jumped to obey. It was some sort of folding camp stool. I perched poised on the edge, telling myself to sit erect and to show calm and confidence no matter what befell. Oh, yes, I could be a player too. And I was not such a country maid that I did not know this was to be a war of wits, and that this one the rabble called Robertus Diabolus—Robert the Devil—had the upper hand.
I tried to buck myself up: however much at odds Will and I were now, had I not been so close to him and the players that I was well armed with clever turns of phrase? I knew how to listen well for cues before responding. Yet this was the man who had inherited Sir Francis Walsingham’s dreaded web of intelligencers, who had brought down the lofty likes of Essex and Southampton and had made mincemeat of lesser men and women like Will’s kin.
“Thank you for your consideration, my lord,” I said before he could speak again. The words, too many, I warrant, tumbled from my mouth. “For the seat, I mean, but I am also grateful for the gift of Her Majesty’s cast-off garments to the Lord Chamberlain’s Men, not only for them but for myself—to be able to merely care for them. We all honor our queen.”
“Do we all?” he parried. “Mistress, I need straight answers from you. I have not hauled in the players themselves—yet—because I cannot abide prevarications or histrionics offstage. I have it on good authority you are forthright and have spoken your mind to the Globe’s actors. And I will have you speak plainly here.”
“Of course, my lord, but I cannot see why we must meet in such a place, away from others—”
“I did not think,” he interrupted, “knowing Will Shakespeare as intimately as you do, a covert meeting was something new to you.”
My insides lurched. He knew about me and Will. How much did he know, from how far back? He must be punning upon the word knowing in the biblical sense and be aware that Will and I had met secretly off and on for years. And worse, that I had been questioned once before by someone from Her Majesty’s government about where Will Shakespeare’s loyalties lay.
I fought to compose my features. Our eyes met and held. His face was not uncomely, but he was so misshapen in bodily form it was said the queen called him her Pygmy. I knew of nicknames that could sting, for I was of half-Italian blood and had oft been called