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but the old bladder peers blearily into the looking glass, sees a face twenty years younger and tells himself
it’s only a matter of time before the Queen sees the sense of it.’
    I nodded in wry agreement. It was well-enough known that Cecil’s own choice as a husband for the Queen was the Earl of Arran. A resident of France from a Scottish family with no love of
Elizabeth’s cousin, Mary, the Queen of Scotland, who was also, since her marriage, Queen of France. In terms of a lasting peace in the north, Arran had much in his favour and would be a
satisfyingly severe blow to French hopes of putting Mary on the throne of England.
    But the lure of a carnal marriage. Twin souls since childhood. The power of the heart…
    ‘The Earl of Arundel would have had Dudley dead years ago,’ I said. ‘Or so it’s said.’
    Cecil let a silence hang and the rain ceased as if he’d commanded it.
    ‘Arundel’s too old and too vain, but he’s hardly alone,’ he said at last. ‘Think of Norfolk. Think of those who conspired to get John Dudley topped and now fear
Robert’s vengeance if he’s in a position to wreak some. Let me be honest. If he’s betrothed to the Queen, no matter how long after his time of mourning, Dudley must needs be
looking over his shoulder all the way to the altar. Indeed, if a messenger was to come knocking on
my
door now with news that he’d been cut down… or shot… or skewered in
a crowd…’
    My hands had tightened around the seat of my chair. The rain had begun again.
    ‘Why are you telling me this?’
    ‘What did Mistress Blanche want with you?’
    ‘I don’t
know.
’
    ‘Oh, come now, John. Who does the Queen trust more than Mistress Blanche to conduct business of a highly personal nature? And what personal business might concern you, as a long-time
friend and confidant of Robert Dudley?’
    ‘I don’t know, I can’t—’
    ‘Think you not that the Queen might wish you to perform, in secret, a similar task to the one you did before the coronation?’
    The sound of rain against the good glass panes was like to a cackling laughter. I felt my heart lurch.
    ‘You mean… she might want me to choose, by the stars, a day that’s mete for…?’
    ‘A royal wedding,’ Cecil said. ‘Indeed.’

XI
Dark Merlin
    B Y NOW I’ D learned that Cecil never ventured an opinion without a degree of secret certainty. It was said that his
ambitious young fixer, Walsingham, had agents at court who didn’t even know of each other. Spies who spied on spies.
    I leaned back, gazing at the window. London had misted, the steeples no more than indents on a bedsheet.
    A terrible logic here. The Queen, for all her will and vigour, was ever indecisive, changing her mind three times in as many hours. Would make a firm decision then sleep on it and awake
uncertain again. Dudley was no longer someone to play with. She would have accepted that the urging of her heart would not be enough. Might well seek some indication of heavenly affirmation, the
design of destiny.
    Might seek a date, however many months hence, which the stars found fortuitous for the announcement of a betrothal which at present would be abhorrent to so many.
    Behind me, the coal fire hissed as rainwater dripped down the chimney. I took in a slow breath.
    ‘How does Blanche feel about this?’
    Cecil smiled and made no reply. Which may have been an answer in itself. Blanche was a cautious and watchful woman who only lived to keep the Queen secure. No wonder she hadn’t turned her
head this morning as her barge had glid past.
    ‘If the Queen’s determined on this, then she’ll try again to have Blanche reach me,’ I said. ‘What then?’
    ‘That, John… is precisely why we’re having this discussion.’
    ‘I can’t refuse. You know I can’t.’
    ‘Of course you can’t.’
    ‘And if what Dudley says about the coincidence of their times of birth is correct, then their destinies may indeed appear