Interlude
Robert Dudley was confined in Beauchamp Tower, a forbidding medieval square building that looked every bit the defensive wall for which it had been built three hundred years earlier.
He wasn’t sure where his brothers and father were being held, for his guards were under orders to give nothing away.
Not even his charm had any effect on their reticence.
When Dominic walked into his cell, Robert raised one very dramatic eyebrow. “Either I am about to be pardoned or about to be dead,” he remarked wryly. “Which is it?”
“I am here on my own account,” Dominic answered. “Not the king’s.”
“Ah. I had thought … So my messages are not getting through.”
“You’ve been sending messages?”
“Not successfully, it would seem. If they’ve been intercepted, I’m surprised you don’t know about it.”
“The court has been somewhat occupied this last month.”
“William’s smallpox?”
When Dominic looked surprised, Robert said, “Everyone knows. Though perhaps not quite how bad it was?” he asked thoughtfully.
That would explain why the Act of Attainder against his father hadn’t come through yet.
The court would not have risked Parliament meeting if the king’s life was truly in danger.
And if William had been seriously ill, then Elizabeth must have been frantic.
Robert couldn’t stand not being near her to give whatever help he could. Which was why he had to get himself out of the Tower. He had assumed, when he was arrested, that it would be simple.
But then, he had never guessed that he was being used to bring down his own father.
But now Dominic was here, and he at least was honest. “Did you know that I have not been asked a single question during my confinement? Not one.” Robert sat on the cold stone ledge beneath the cell’s single window.
Dominic remained on his feet in the middle of the room, not that there were many options.
The cell was no more than six paces in any direction.
It held only a bed, a table, and a single chair.
“I think your father has been the more immediate priority.”
“No doubt. Best get him out of the way before uncomfortable questions might be posed. You don’t find it revealing that the council plans to convict by attainder and not in an open trial?”
“What are you implying?”
That a trial might have exposed the flaws in my father’s supposed treason. That the case against him might have fallen apart like the case against Norfolk. That there’s a reason I’ve been locked up with no one asking me anything …
“I need to talk to someone,” Robert replied. “I have information that the king needs to know.”
“What information?” Dominic hardened his voice.
“Ask yourself this—is it not revealing that in just over a year’s time, two of the finest men in this kingdom, two of England’s senior peers, have been disgraced and killed?”
“Norfolk died a natural death. And your father is not dead.”
“Not yet. And Norfolk’s death resulted from a most unnatural arrest for an act of which he was innocent.”
“Innocently set up by your father’s plots.
Northumberland wanted the Catholics crushed and went to great lengths to arrange the fraudulent Penitent’s Confession and then have you plant it in Norfolk’s home.
Someone should have warned your father that playing with fire always leads to burning yourself in the end. ”
“Someone was playing with fire, all right, and my father made his share of rash and desperate decisions. But look around you, Dominic, and tell me: Who is left standing? What voices remain to whisper in the king’s ear?”
Distaste bloomed in Dominic’s eyes. “I assume you are not accusing me.”
Robert laughed wholeheartedly. “As if you are capable of such deceit. No, Dominic, I am not accusing you of masterminding the downfall of two of England’s most powerful families.”
Robert would not say the name aloud, but let it hang in the air between them—Rochford.
He knew he had been understood when Dominic said slowly, “A man accused will say anything—and a man as clever as you will say it convincingly.”
“A man as clever as me will also have evidence.”
“Tell me.”
After a long, considering pause, Robert shook his head. “Not you.”
“There’s no way the king will speak to you in person.”
“I don’t want to speak to the king. I want to speak to Elizabeth.”
It was Dominic’s turn to laugh. “Never.”
Robert leaned forward, as serious as he’d ever been. “If you do not want William and his kingdom at the mercy of a liar, you will make it happen. Bring me Elizabeth—and I will deliver you a traitor.”