‘The queen’s orders are that you shall remain here, until the English courts can clear you of complicity in the murder of Lord Darnley.’
Alison felt tears come to her eyes. ‘No!’ she cried. This was the worst possible outcome.
‘I’m sorry to bring you such unwelcome news,’ he said, and Alison believed he meant it. He was a kind man with an unkind message.
Mary’s voice was shaky. ‘So Queen Elizabeth will not receive me at court?’
‘No,’ said Ned.
‘She will not let me go to France?’
‘No,’ he said again.
‘And I may not return home to Scotland?’
‘No,’ Ned said for the third time.
‘So I am a prisoner?’
‘Yes,’ said Ned.
‘Again,’ said Mary.
16
When his mother died, Ned felt sad and bereft and alone but, most of all, he felt angry. Alice Willard’s last years should have been luxurious and triumphant. Instead, she had been ruined by a religious quarrel, and had died thinking herself a failure.
It was Easter 1570. By chance Barney was at home, in a short break between sea voyages. On Easter Monday the brothers celebrated the resurrection of the dead in Kingsbridge Cathedral, then the next day they stood side by side in the cemetery as their mother’s coffin was lowered into the grave where their father already lay. There was hot resentment in Ned’s stomach, bilious and sour, and he vowed again to spend his life making sure that men such as Bishop Julius would not have the power to destroy honest merchants like Alice Willard.
As they walked away from the grave, Ned tried to turn his mind to practical matters, and he said to Barney: ‘The house is yours, of course.’
Barney was the elder son. He had shaved off his bushy beard to reveal a face that was prematurely aged, at thirty-two, by cold saltwater winds and the glare of the unshaded sun. He said: ‘I know, but I have little use for it. Please live there whenever you’re in Kingsbridge.’
‘Is seafaring going to be your life, then?’
‘Yes.’
Barney had prospered. After leaving theHawk,he had been made captain of another vessel, with a share in the profits, and then he had bought his own ship. He had their mother’s knack for making money.
Ned looked across the market square to the house where he had been born. He loved the old place, with its view of the cathedral. ‘I’ll be glad to take care of it for you. Janet and Malcolm Fife will do the work, but I’ll keep an eye on them.’
‘They’re getting old,’ Barney said.
‘They’re in their fifties. But Eileen is only twenty-two.’
‘And perhaps she might marry a man who would like to take over Malcolm’s job.’
Ned knew better. ‘Eileen will never marry anyone but you, Barney.’
Barney shrugged. Many women had fallen hopelessly in love with him; poor Eileen was just another one.
Ned said: ‘Aren’t you ever tempted to settle down?’
‘There’s no point. A sailor hardly ever sees his wife. What about you?’
Ned thought for a minute. The death of his mother had made him aware that his time on earth was limited. Of course he had known that before, but now it was brought home to him; and it made him ask himself if the life he led was the one he really wanted. He surprised himself with his answer to Barney’s question. ‘I want what they had,’ he said, looking back at the grave where both parents lay. ‘A lifelong partnership.’
Barney said: ‘They started early. They were married at twenty, or thereabouts, weren’t they? You’re already ten years behind schedule.’
