watching.”
Meg saw the queen bite back a laugh. “But if it wasn’t a fairy, who else could it have been?”
“Someone,” Sim said with a shake of his head at his younger brother, “who knows that hedges make the birds fly up and not skim the fields. That way they can be shot, that’s what I think. See, he wanted a quick way to get to birds he shot—maybe poached. So he used the stile for a place to steady his crossbow, too.”
“I believe that could be it indeed,” the queen said. “I thank you for your help and warrant you will make a fine hedger and birder yourself someday, Sim Naseby.”
“But I really want to see the world, Your Majesty!” the boy blurted. “At least far as the sea!”
Meg saw the queen press her lips together hard and nod before she said, “I understand your longing for the sea. But now I want you lads to know you will be well cared for, though I have some sad news. Your father, who I believe was a good man and was wrongly accused by the sheriff, has died. I am going to punish the sheriff and have you stay here with my friends, at least until we can bury your sire and find a place for you here in town. Do you understand what I just said?”
Sim squared his shoulders and nodded, but little Piers
sucked in a sob. Before Meg knew she would move, she knelt behind their chair and put her arms around the little boy from behind. His body was trembling. He suddenly dug at the nettle rash on his arm, though she’d bathed and tended it. Meg leaned her cheek against his tousled head, and he quit scratching. The queen leaned forward to put her hand on each of the boys’ knees, but Meg just held on tight, so tight.
A thought hit her hard, and she had to say it right then: “Your Majesty, whoever hacked that hedge or built that stile or shot that bolt might have a real bad rash of stinging nettle.”
W ith all that’s happened, you surely won’t keep to your announced schedule to proceed with this progress into Hampshire,” Cecil said to the queen that evening. Courtiers buzzed outside the door of her privy chamber like bees, waiting for her to appear. Ned’s interrupted entertainment from last evening was to be held for safety’s sake in the great hall, though Elizabeth had put out word the new setting was merely to avoid the chance of rain.
As if the walls had ears, though she had sent her ladies out ahead of her, the two of them spoke quietly and quickly as they often did in snatched bits of conversation when others crowded close.
“I believe we’ve beat this subject to death, my lord—at St. James’s last, I recall,” she said, and fanned herself in the overly warm chamber. “I am not canceling my journey into Hampshire.”
“But the dangers to your person are greatly increased over what I counseled before, Your Grace,” he countered, gripping the high-backed chair he stood behind. “Hence, I know you will look at this with a more wary eye. Our next stay is with someone we can trust, but after that we’re into the frying pan again with a Catholic and Queen Mary sympathizer, and all the time you’re dragging Norfolk along, and God knows who else who wishes you harm.”
“Cecil, I repeat, the bolt might not have been intended for me. And if it was, I will not be affrighted in my own kingdom
by someone who wishes me to cower in terror.” She flipped her fan closed and pointed it at him like a tutor’s finger. “I will not become a prisoner and build walls between myself and my people. I want and will have again the freedom to wade into a football game, for instance, or stop on the road to speak with a rustic laborer who brings his children to meet their queen!”
“That reminds me, Your Grace, you are quite certain you want to take the Naseby lads along when we depart on the morrow?”
“I won’t leave them here where that pompous maggotpie Barnstable and those louts of his might harm them. Jenks will serve as temporary guardian of the older boy, Sim, and Ned
Meg saw the queen bite back a laugh. “But if it wasn’t a fairy, who else could it have been?”
“Someone,” Sim said with a shake of his head at his younger brother, “who knows that hedges make the birds fly up and not skim the fields. That way they can be shot, that’s what I think. See, he wanted a quick way to get to birds he shot—maybe poached. So he used the stile for a place to steady his crossbow, too.”
“I believe that could be it indeed,” the queen said. “I thank you for your help and warrant you will make a fine hedger and birder yourself someday, Sim Naseby.”
“But I really want to see the world, Your Majesty!” the boy blurted. “At least far as the sea!”
Meg saw the queen press her lips together hard and nod before she said, “I understand your longing for the sea. But now I want you lads to know you will be well cared for, though I have some sad news. Your father, who I believe was a good man and was wrongly accused by the sheriff, has died. I am going to punish the sheriff and have you stay here with my friends, at least until we can bury your sire and find a place for you here in town. Do you understand what I just said?”
Sim squared his shoulders and nodded, but little Piers
sucked in a sob. Before Meg knew she would move, she knelt behind their chair and put her arms around the little boy from behind. His body was trembling. He suddenly dug at the nettle rash on his arm, though she’d bathed and tended it. Meg leaned her cheek against his tousled head, and he quit scratching. The queen leaned forward to put her hand on each of the boys’ knees, but Meg just held on tight, so tight.
A thought hit her hard, and she had to say it right then: “Your Majesty, whoever hacked that hedge or built that stile or shot that bolt might have a real bad rash of stinging nettle.”
W ith all that’s happened, you surely won’t keep to your announced schedule to proceed with this progress into Hampshire,” Cecil said to the queen that evening. Courtiers buzzed outside the door of her privy chamber like bees, waiting for her to appear. Ned’s interrupted entertainment from last evening was to be held for safety’s sake in the great hall, though Elizabeth had put out word the new setting was merely to avoid the chance of rain.
As if the walls had ears, though she had sent her ladies out ahead of her, the two of them spoke quietly and quickly as they often did in snatched bits of conversation when others crowded close.
“I believe we’ve beat this subject to death, my lord—at St. James’s last, I recall,” she said, and fanned herself in the overly warm chamber. “I am not canceling my journey into Hampshire.”
“But the dangers to your person are greatly increased over what I counseled before, Your Grace,” he countered, gripping the high-backed chair he stood behind. “Hence, I know you will look at this with a more wary eye. Our next stay is with someone we can trust, but after that we’re into the frying pan again with a Catholic and Queen Mary sympathizer, and all the time you’re dragging Norfolk along, and God knows who else who wishes you harm.”
“Cecil, I repeat, the bolt might not have been intended for me. And if it was, I will not be affrighted in my own kingdom
by someone who wishes me to cower in terror.” She flipped her fan closed and pointed it at him like a tutor’s finger. “I will not become a prisoner and build walls between myself and my people. I want and will have again the freedom to wade into a football game, for instance, or stop on the road to speak with a rustic laborer who brings his children to meet their queen!”
“That reminds me, Your Grace, you are quite certain you want to take the Naseby lads along when we depart on the morrow?”
“I won’t leave them here where that pompous maggotpie Barnstable and those louts of his might harm them. Jenks will serve as temporary guardian of the older boy, Sim, and Ned
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