Chapter 8
‘Evil is on the wing tonight. And it doth make me quiver to think of my breast being plundered thus by a most deadly dagger...’
The actor, dressed in a white shift and long red wig, stabs at his distinctly hairy bosom with a fist once, twice, thrice, and then once more for good measure to his loins, giving a sly wink to the audience.
A few of the ladies-in-waiting gasp and titter, and I daren’t look at the queen and Lord Dudley sitting in pride of place in the front row.
I am shocked at the actor’s daring, for he is obviously hinting that the queen is about to be plundered by a ‘dagger’ of a different kind.
If she does not ascertain his double meaning, the actor’s head will remain on his shoulders.
Hopefully, she is sleepy after her heavy birthday meal and the copious cups of wine.
I am sure she must be as all of those cups I had to taste too, so my eyelids are now as heavy as lead weights.
I generally like plays, but even this one’s lascivious insinuations cannot keep my interest.
I yawn secretly behind my hand, and force my eyes to stay open.
It doesn’t help that the room near the dining hall, where the play is being held, is hot and stuffy; and a lulling lute is being plucked softly behind the purple velvet curtain.
Heads nod and jerk upright around me, while gentle snores emanate from the back row.
I turn furtively in my seat to find a few of the older lords sprawling with their mouths open, hands resting on full bellies.
Their wives shake their heads at me and roll their eyes heavenwards.
Marigold flutters her fan to catch my attention, and I lean in.
‘In truth, the only thing keeping me awake is Sir Darius,’ she whispers, quirking her eyebrows comically.
I stifle a laugh and sneak a look to where the knight is standing on the makeshift stage. He is playing the ‘brother’ and is now holding a wooden tray containing a cup of wine for his ‘sister’.
‘Wilt thou now drink and cast these fevered imaginings from your sweet mind, dear sister?’ he drawls. ‘Just a sip or two of this heady liquor to soothe your troubled soul...’
My eyes widen upon hearing this. His lines are very close to the truth!
Has someone been spying upon my visits to the queen and relaying them for sport?
If so, why on earth would the players think she would find this revealment of her night terrors amusing?
Now they are even more at risk of being arrested and their heads put on spikes! Sir Darius too!
The ‘sister’ sips from the cup ‘her brother’ gives to her and sighs and flounces and tosses her red tresses, to more titters from the audience. I hear the queen’s included and breathe a sigh of relief. Thank the Lord. She is amused. Heads will not roll.
Marigold nudges me with a smirk and nods at her lap, and I look to the stage again.
The knight is holding his tray higher than usual, and a prominent bulge displays in his red Tudor hose.
I swallow hard and sit up straighter, suddenly wide awake.
Yes, I have to agree with Marigold. Although this play is crudely scripted, badly acted, and excruciatingly boring, Sir Darius’s oversized member does help to keep one’s eyes fixated on the stage.
***
After the play, I am en route to my chamber and longing for the comfort of my bed when a shadowy figure detaches from a tapestry in the darkened stone corridor. My heart leaps out of my chest, and I thrust the candle in front of me, wishing I had a knife.
‘W-who goes there?’ I stutter, peering into the shadows.
Sir Darius’s handsome face emerges and then the rest of his body. He is still dressed in his actor’s costume.
‘Oh!’ I gasp, for I immediately know his intention. There is only one reason a knight lingers in the corridor waiting for a lady to appear.
‘Good eve, Lady Hester,’ he says smoothly with a small bow. ‘My apologies. I did not mean to startle you.’
Pressing a hand to my heaving bosom, I take a long steadying breath. ‘In truth, I am much relieved you are not a ghost, Sir Darius.’ And flattered you have sought me out.
His full lips curve as he watches me, and twin thrills flutter: in my belly and somewhere lower. Standing face to face, I realise we are of a similar height. A boon, for most men come up to only my chin.
‘Ah yes, this castle is surely riddled with ghosts,’ he says seriously, though his eyes twinkle. ‘Therefore, I shall accompany you to your chamber ... to keep you safe from wicked spirits.’
I nod and lightly take his arm, my breathing hitching at his closeness. His scent, musk and roses with a trace of spiced wine, flows to my nostrils. A sense of calm envelops me. But excitement licks hungrily between my thighs. He is coming to my chamber! He has chosen me for his nightly coupling!
‘So, you know my name,’ he says as our footfalls echo on the stone.
‘As you do mine,’ I reply.
‘Most certainly.’
We are silent for a moment; and I boldly tighten my grip, enjoying the feel of his strong arm through the quilted doublet and the sudden flex of muscle designed, I am sure, to arouse my curiosity about his strength and stamina—under the bedcovers.
‘Did you admire the play, Lady Hester?’ Sir Darius enquires.
I cough, my thoughts heating. I admired only what was in your hose ... But I cannot tell him that! And I cannot lie. ‘No, I thought it was terrible,’ I say bluntly.
Sir Darius chuckles. ‘But something kept your attention. I noted that you weren’t asleep like the rest of the audience. Perhaps my stunning performance, hmm?’
‘I—’ The words I am about to utter are cut off by the feel of Sir Darius’s cool lips brushing mine. Lightly at first. Then more insistently as he presses me up against a tapestry. He kisses down my neck, his hands stroking my bodice.
‘Let us go swiftly to your chamber. And I shall give you some private “acting” lessons.’ His voice rumbles huskily with desire, and a fire froths in my belly—whether from all the wine I’ve drunk or the huge member pressing against my thigh, I’m not entirely sure.
‘Yes, let us make haste,’ I rasp, taking the chance to squeeze and fondle his firm buttocks. ‘If the guards catch us, they may report me to the queen. She likes her ladies-in-waiting to remain as chaste as her.’
Sir Darius scoffs at that but says nothing further as I grab his hand and pull him hurriedly along the passage to my chamber.
As soon as the door is closed and a candle is lit, he lavishes my bosom with kisses while I squirm and sigh, running my fingers through his inky curls. Oh, how I wanted this! My prayers have been answered.
‘Her Highness is not chaste,’ he murmurs idly, squeezing a breast with one hand while his other moves to the flare of my hips. He guides me slowly backwards, kissing my mouth with slow dips of tongue that make my senses reel. But still, I cannot let him think such things.
‘You should not say that about the queen,’ I admonish as Sir Darius lays me gently down on the coverlet and gracefully climbs up beside me.
‘It is the truth. She is having an affair with Robert Dudley. Everyone knows it.’ He removes the pins from my hair, and it tumbles around my shoulders.
‘Mmm, your hair is the colour of fire.’ He lifts a handful and sniffs at the fresh lavender rinse I used, then runs a hand down my cheek when he sees me gazing at him.
‘And your eyes, like emeralds. So beautiful,’ he murmurs.
‘As soon as I saw you sitting by the queen’s side, I knew I must have you. ’
‘In truth?’
Sir Darius nods. ‘My desire has not abated since that moment and has only grown stronger.’
He places my hand on his hose, and I gasp. While I feel my way around his manhood, which is the size of a log of wood, he thrusts a hand up my skirts. But my thoughts wander to the queen, wanting to protect her.
‘You must know that it is hearsay. What you said about the queen ... She enjoys his company, but that does not mean—’ I bite my lip as Sir Darius’s stroking fingers tickle my inner thigh, creeping ever upwards, seeking my cunny.
No man has ever touched me there, and I am curious to know what it will feel like.
‘Besides, Lord Dudley is married,’ I add. ‘There can be no union.’
Sir Darius gently rubs at a sensitive spot between my legs, and I stifle a groan. Now I know. It feels wonderful!
‘Mark my words, he will not be married for much longer. Are you enjoying that, Lady Hester?’ he whispers. ‘And more importantly, shall I keep doing it?’
I nod fervently. ‘Oh yes, please do. May I ... touch you in return?’
Wordlessly, Sir Darius undoes the flap on his hose, and his eager manhood springs free. My mouth waters at the sight of his girthy shaft with its velvety soft tip, quivering in the candlelight.
But yet I am distracted by his remark.
‘What did you mean about Lord Dudley not being—’
There is a sharp rap on the door, and our groping hands freeze.
‘What is it?’ My voice rings out with resentment. Dear Lord, do not tell me the queen is having a nightmare this very minute!
The knock sounds again. ‘Forgive me, but it may be important,’ I whisper to Sir Darius, wishing instead that I could ignore it.
He nods. I blow out the candle to conceal him and answer the door, smoothing my hair. There is no time to plait it.
Opening it a crack, I yawn fakely to the hulking guard standing there. ‘You woke me. What is your business—’
I squeak as his hand flies through the gap and lands on my arm. ‘You are to come with us, Lady Hester,’ the guard says gruffly.
‘Us?’ I am confused as there is only one of him.
A hand grips my other arm from behind. ‘You are to stay calm and come quietly. No calling out for help, no screaming.’ Sir Darius’s voice is low and firm in my ear. ‘If you do, there will be swift consequences.’
Feeling as if I’m in a nightmare I cannot awaken from, I am marched silently from my chamber by the two of them.
My breath leaves my body in shaky gasps as I comprehend this turn of events with ice-cold clarity.
Darius has tricked me. His amorous attentions meant nothing.
It was a ruse until the guard came to fetch me. But to take me where?
We turn the corner into the long gallery, and I think with relief that I am wrong to be fearful. That the queen has summoned me to her chamber, that she has need of me. But dread gnaws at my gut when we turn again towards Curfew Tower, the one with a dungeon beneath.
Then I realise how deep my trouble runs. The queen has had me arrested. Lord, have mercy! My head is going to roll!