In the college courtyard, golden chariots, white horses, singers and lutenists had been replaced by a large troop of the queen’s Lifeguards, ready to challenge and, if necessary, dispose of un welcome intruders. Each trooper carried not only a pike or an arquebus and ammunition, but also a sword and a knife. When their captain asked Thomas his business, he gave his name, mentioned Simon de Pointz, and asked for Lady Romilly. He was escorted to the Warden’s lodgings, which the queen and her court had taken over, and told to wait outside. Merton showed signs of the war — soldiers and their paraphernalia, guns and powder, arms and armour — but it was nothing like Pembroke. The queen and her ladies would not have allowed it.
When Jane appeared, black curls framing her face, and dressed today in pink and blue, she was distinctly flushed. ‘Master Hill. A surprise. I was quite unprepared. Had we made an appointment?’
‘No, madam, and my apologies for surprising you. I was walking in the meadow, the day is warm and it occurred to me to call. Would you care for a stroll through the Physic Garden? I hear it is lovely at this time of year.’
Jane hesitated. ‘I’m not sure. Her majesty is at her toilette. She may need me afterwards.’
‘If the question is not treasonable, how long does her majesty’s toilette take?’
‘Perhaps an hour more.’
‘Then let us enjoy the sunshine for exactly fifty-five minutes.’
Jane smiled. ‘That would be delightful,’ she said, taking his arm. ‘Not a minute more, though.’
On the path towards the garden, they passed a young woman pulling a handcart. On it was a body wrapped in a dirty sheet. She was heading for the south wall and, beyond it, the communal grave Thomas and Simon had seen when they arrived. Thomas put his hand to his face. The body was not a new one. Jane crossed herself and looked away. ‘Another widow,’ she whispered. ‘The disease is everywhere.’
‘Too many people in too small a space,’ replied Thomas. ‘It seldom occurs in the countryside.’
They followed the path by the river towards the garden. It was lined by willows, and bulrushes and sedges grew along the banks. Jane bent to pick fleabane. ‘The queen loves gardens. She hates to see the gardens in the colleges destroyed. Do you know what this is, Master Hill?’
Thomas examined the fleabane. ‘A white and yellow flower of no particular distinction?’
‘Tush. Daisy fleabane is its common name. More properly, Erigeron strigosus.’
‘Madam, you’re as learned as Simon de Pointz. Are all the queen’s staff instructed in botany?’
Jane laughed. ‘It’s as well to know a little. The queen herself is very knowledgeable. Thomas, can you not call me Jane?’
‘If you wish it, Jane, I can. You’re very fond of the queen, are you not?’
‘I am. She’s a gracious lady with a deep love of nature and art. The more extravagant masques I put down to her rare artistic temperament. The king is devoted to her, as I believe the country would be if they knew her better. Her faith tells against her. In that, she is uncompromising.’
‘The country is suffering, Jane,’ said Thomas delicately.
‘Indeed. The queen knows it.’ She paused. ‘Thomas, can I entrust you with a secret?’
‘Of course.’
‘The queen is expecting a child in the spring. Her physician has just confirmed it.’
‘Why is it a secret?’
‘She fears the reaction of the people.’
‘The people will know soon enough.’
‘She will go to France for her confinement, and return with the child.’
‘Let us hope they both return to peace.’
When they reached the Physic Garden, Jane asked about Thomas’s family, and he about hers. She told him that when Sir Edward had died at Edgehill she had returned to York, and joined the queen’s court when it arrived there from Holland. In July, she had left the safety of her family home and travelled with the queen to Oxford. She had hated leaving her elderly parents, but had believed it her duty to do so. They had been accompanied by three thousand men and a hundred wagons. The Generalissima had proved herself a most persuasive recruiter. She spoke of the queen’s hardiness on the journey, and her kindness to a young woman recently widowed. She spoke also of her husband, whom she had known since they were children, and of her fear that she would now never have children of her own. Thomas told her about Margaret and his nieces, his time as a student in Oxford and his interest in books and philosophy, just managing not to mention Michel de Montaigne.
The garden was tended by a dozen gardeners in leather jerkins and straw hats. It, at least, had so far survived the ravages of war, although at the end of a hot summer it was showing signs of fatigue. Jane and Thomas walked between tidy beds of lavender and violets, and around a patch of mallows. Jane picked a stem of St John’s wort. ‘And how do you occupy yourself in Oxford, Thomas, when you are not with Master Fletcher?’ she asked.
‘Abraham has given me work to do. It keeps me busy.’
‘You told Francis Fayne that you are on the king’s business. May I enquire what business it is?’
Thomas sighed. ‘Jane, this is awkward. My work is known to very few — the king, Abraham, Simon de Pointz, Master Rush. I should not tell you.’
‘I have entrusted you with a secret, Thomas. Can you not entrust me with one?’
He hesitated. Abraham’s censure or Jane’s approval. He chose the middle ground. ‘I studied mathematics here, as well as philosophy, and have been asked to devise a new group of codes and ciphers.’
‘Somehow I knew you would be doing that kind of work. Scholarly and solitary. Is it difficult?’
‘Not really. Not too difficult, even a bit dull.’
‘No vital secrets?’
‘No, no, nothing like that. My role is very minor.’
‘I’m sure you underestimate the value of your work. You must be very good at it, or the king would not have given you the responsibility. You will take care, Thomas, won’t you? The queen says that Oxford is full of spies, and the king trusts almost no one. I imagine you would be in danger if your work were known.’
‘I shall certainly take care, Jane. As should you. I might not be at hand next time you start an unseemly brawl in the street.’
Arm in arm, they strolled around the garden, stopping occasionally to examine one plant or another. Jane told Thomas the Latin name for each one, which he repeated and then immediately forgot. He could not be expected to concentrate on herbs and flowers with this ravishing lady on his arm. He racked his brains for something suitable to contribute to the discussion, and, as usual, it was Montaigne who came to the rescue. ‘Gardens and philosophers are often friends,’ he said. ‘Michel de Montaigne said that he wanted to meet death when he was tending his cabbages.’
‘Did he? What did he mean by that?’
‘That he was happiest with his cabbages, I suppose, and hoped that was where he would be when he died.’
‘What a wise gentleman.’
‘Yes. I find him a great support in life. Would you care to borrow a book of his essays?’
‘Thank you, Thomas. If you find him a support, I’m sure I shall too.’
Back at Merton, Thomas took his leave outside the Warden’s lodgings. ‘Do call again soon, Thomas,’ said Jane, before disappearing inside. Thomas turned to go. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of a black-clad figure ducking into a doorway on the other side of the courtyard. He was sure it was Tobias Rush. But why would Rush not want to be seen? There must be times when he had reason to visit the queen. Had he seen Thomas with Jane? What if he had? Why hide? Thinking that he must have been mistaken, Thomas was about to return to Pembroke when Jane came running out. ‘Thomas, Thomas,’ she called, ‘the queen wishes to meet you again. Come. I will take you in.’ And before he could say anything, she took his hand and led him into the Warden’s house.