The King's Chameleon by Richard Woodman

saw her eyes fill. ‘I promise that I shall make amends to you, that I shall both love and cherish you notwithstanding any obligation to my wife. As to my regard for her, I can only tell you that no more than an hour before I received the shock of finding you yesterday, I was informed by the King himself that my son is involved with some political matter, possibly a plot against the King’s Majesty. He has given me leave to extricate my son and send him out of the country, which I may well do in one of my ships; otherwise he may risk a trial for treason, the consequences of which do not bear contemplation. As I guessed, my wife was party to some of this, though to what extent, I do not know, but I laid the matter before her shortly before leaving for Oxford. I have given her until I return to summon our son, which places both of them at my mercy. I must resolve these and their associated consequences—’ He broke off swallowing hard. ‘If she gets wind of our encounter …’ He faltered again, uncertain of how best to proceed, anxious to return to Wapping. He began again: ‘I can only plead that you understand that nothing may pass between us until—’
    She placed a finger on his lips. ‘I understand. I understand perfectly. Nor is my own situation short of obligations. Her Majesty is demanding –’ she shrugged – ‘which is perhaps understandable for a Queen who was never a queen above a year and is now both a widow and an exile as I have been. I am thus bound to her.’
    â€˜Yes, yes,’ he said miserably, ‘I left you with nothing.’
    â€˜That was, perhaps, partly my own fault, but Charles, when he learned of your defection, quizzed me, and such was the state of my nerves that I confessed. I was not the apple of His Highness’s eye – as he then was – and he found me employment in the thread-bare household of his aunt.’
    â€˜That was considerate of him.’
    Katherine shrugged. ‘Perhaps; more like the thought of feeding me filled him with horror. But ever since I have helped Lord Craven attend Her Majesty and have received every kindness both from The Queen and His Lordship.’ She watched him for a moment, then added, ‘And before you ask, I have never been Lord Craven’s bed-fellow, no, nor slept with any man since thee.’
    â€˜Katherine …’
    â€˜And that is more than I know you can say for yourself, Sir Kit of the red arse!’ And smiling, she leaned forward and kissed him.
    He walked towards Wapping next morning, his heart light as a bird’s so that, had no consequences attached to the act, he might have blithely forgiven Judith her dissembling. Fortunately, his mood darkened, adumbrated by the chafing of his swollen legs so that he rolled worse than any sailor just ashore from a rough passage from Virginia, and he was taken for such by a brace of whores parading along the Ratcliff Highway. With The Tower and the harlots’ laughter behind him, his wits had sharpened by the time he came to his own door. He was aware that he had given Judith time to compose herself and hatch a counter-plot; she may even have spirited Henry out of the country in defiance of his order, which, if so, could not be helped.
    Entering the house with a deliberate clatter, he summoned bread and wine. He had declined breaking his fast at Leicester House, and when the kitchen-maid brought him a loaf and some cheese he sent her in quest of Judith. The girl bobbed a curtsey and left, her face witness to unpleasantness in the house. A few moments Hannah came in to him.
    â€˜Hannah, my dear. Come, kiss your father.’
    â€˜Father, what is afoot? All is mystery and whispers, Mother is quite unlike herself and Uncle Nathan got drunk last night. I have never known him to touch more than a glass or two, but he was so drunk that he had to be dragged to bed.’
    Faulkner was shocked by this news, but the