The Virgin's War (Tudor Legacy #3)(80)

Despite his personal worries and the stress of looming war, Kit enjoyed traveling with Anabel. The princess was cheered resoundingly wherever they went, from town to tiny village, and she took care to spend hours meeting personally with as many people as could be managed. They moved from Middleham down to York, where the city leaders had already taken a distinct liking for Anabel herself as well as a healthy respect for her leadership skills. She had skillfully led the Council of the North, either in person or in correspondence, and was now reaping its benefits.

From York they went farther south, to the port of Kingston upon Hull, where they heard intelligence reports from the Netherlands. The Duke of Parma, who had led Spain’s armies against the Flemish for the last seven years, was charged with assembling the land forces needed for an English invasion. There had been some discussion in London, Kit knew, about trying to disrupt Parma with the forces they had supporting the Flemish rebels, but that was scotched in favour of using what time and money they possessed in preparing England itself. The most encouraging aspect of the current intelligence reports was that Parma was irritated about having to feed an army that was doing nothing much at the moment but eating and waiting.

After Hull, Kit led the royal train along the coastline heading north. They called at every town and estate of even minor significance along the way. Just weeks behind Pippa’s journey, Kit could see the value of his sister’s work every day. Even the wariest Catholics who had most cause to dislike London—such as those families with ties to the Pilgrimage of Grace fifty years before—had been softened by Pippa’s attentions and Anabel’s concessions. Northerners might be suspicious and wary, but they were also highly practical. The fact that the princess had two Catholics on her council went a long way in assuring the disaffected that she, at the very least, would listen to them.

At Newcastle, the primary northern fortress of England, they stayed five days. Anabel, as president of the Council of the North, spent two days hearing cases and dispensing justice. The position had long been held by members of the royal family—often the direct heir to the throne—but she was the first woman to do so, and Kit knew it weighed on her. But she let the strain show only in flashes, and only in private.

Then it was on to Berwick, that northernmost English town that had changed hands with Scotland more times than could be counted. There they were met by the Warden of the East March, Henry Carey, Lord Hunsdon. First cousin to Queen Elizabeth through their mothers, Hunsdon had long been a stalwart military support to the queen. He had come to Berwick almost twenty years ago as governor, and was instrumental in squashing the Rising of the North soon after. He had continued to rise from position to position, as much by his successes as by his blood, and spent much of his time now down south.

But with the Spanish threat, he had been named Captain General of the Queen’s Forces in the North, and thus, in important ways, he was Kit’s superior officer.

Hunsdon received Anabel fondly. In his late fifties, he had the long, narrow Boleyn face of his cousin and the erect and vigorous air of a lifetime soldier. With the princess, he walked the precise line between the personal and the professional. And when she assured him, with only Kit and Hunsdon’s second in command in attendance, that their hopes were to lure Spain into sending a portion of their fleet against the North, he was quick to grasp why.

“A tactic your grandmother might well have conceived,” he said admiringly. He had been Anne Boleyn’s ward for much of his childhood and it was his aunt who had provided him the education that launched his career. “Do you think you have sufficiently misled the Spanish into believing you will do nothing to actively hinder their armies?”

“One can never say for certain,” Anabel answered. “It is to be hoped that this visit is being viewed as my attempt to discover which men can be trusted and which would need to be removed. I need hardly say that you are considered by the Spanish the chief obstacle to any devious plan of mine against my mother.”

“I am honoured,” he answered drily.

From Berwick, she had been invited by King James to cross the border and meet with him a little west at Melrose. In the event, she once again refused to cross the border. She phrased it kindly enough—I will come to Scotland as a bride comes to her husband—but Kit knew how it would rankle with James.

It did not keep the Scottish king from coming to Berwick himself.

—

James Stuart arrived at Berwick under apparent cover of disguise. It was one of those convenient fictions—everyone knew who he was, but they all agreed to pretend not to, outside the castle, in order to avoid both formalities and hostilities. The king did not come unattended. With him were Alexander Home, Warden of Scotland’s East March, and also, as Kit had hoped, Stephen Courtenay and several of his officers from the St. Adrian’s company.

Excluded from the official meetings, Kit and Stephen were meant to discuss the unofficial matters. They took to the castle ramparts high above in order to do so in private. From there they had a spectacular view of the town, protected by its own recently built ramparts. The ingenious construction used earth to back the stone walls, allowing for greater absorption of artillery fire. Berwick Castle itself sat outside the ramparts, connected to the town by a bridge that led to a gated entrance. The air was still and heavy with moisture, and sharp enough even in the summer to necessitate cloaks.

“Is James going to offer Anabel any help?” Kit asked bluntly.