Part 3 (1/2)

He beckoned us to the table, on which a large map was spread, the corners held down with books. He pointed to England, then ran his finger across the map, leaning slightly into me as he did so, and rested it on North America.

He smelled of civet. Father always wore civet, too. A wave of longing surged in me, but I pushed it down and stared at the map. England, our island kingdom, was crowded with names of rivers and towns. But North America, inside her jagged coastline, was a blank, featureless expanse. Tiny s.h.i.+ps marked the seas between the two lands.

Frances touched a s.h.i.+p, then measured the gap between England and North America with her spread fingers. ”That's not so far to sail,” she said.

I felt nervous laughter bubble up inside me. ”Oh, silly Frances, the s.h.i.+ps are not drawn to their true proportion,” I said. ”If they were, this one would be greater than all of London!”

I clapped my hand to my mouth, embarra.s.sed at my outburst. Frances slunk back to her stool, sat down, and stared at a shelf of books. I felt guilty for shaming her and knew that I would undoubtedly pay for it.

Ralegh was too much of a gentleman to laugh at either of us. But I detected a note of humor in his voice when he said, ”And you, Lady Catherine, would you like to travel on such a great s.h.i.+p as that?”

His deep voice reverberated within me. I kept my eyes fixed on the map, thinking how immense the world was, and how I longed to see more of it beyond London, even beyond England.

”Oh yes!” But where to, I could not say. ”Tell me about your voyages, Master Ralegh.”

”Twice I sailed for North America with my kinsman Sir Humfrey Gilbert. On last year's voyage we were unlucky. A contagion swept through my crew and I was forced to turn my s.h.i.+p back. Humfrey continued, but foul weather and mists kept him from making landfall, and on his return, a tempest in the Azores sank his vessel and drowned him.”

”Why do you want to go back, if it is so dangerous?” I asked.

”The promise of riches!” He whispered near my ear, making the skin on my neck tingle. Then he laughed and drew back. ”While I was yet a student of the law, one Martin Frobisher sailed northwest in search of a pa.s.sage to the Indies. He did not find it, but he returned with barrels of black stone said to contain great wealth. Then the refiners could not extract the gold. It is my belief that they stole the riches.”

”Perhaps he was deceived and the rocks did not contain gold,” I suggested.

Ralegh shook his head. ”Others have returned with pieces of gold this size.” He made a fist. ”The Spanish strike their coins from gold hewed from mountains in the Americas. If they can do it, so can we.” His eyes blazed with pa.s.sion.

I felt a s.h.i.+ver of excitement. ”But don't the Spanish rule the seas and capture any vessel that crosses their path?”

”My s.h.i.+ps have outrun their galleons, boarded them, and brought home prizes,” he boasted. ”Her Majesty turns a blind eye to such lawbreaking, and so it flourishes. When Francis Drake returned from sailing around the world, he had nearly a million pounds of booty. Most of it he kept,” he added.

I saw the hunger in his eyes at the thought of such wealth.

”What kind of people did the explorers find?” I asked, my coyness now driven away by curiosity.

”Frobisher brought back some natives called Eskimo. I saw one with these very eyes. In the harbor at Bristol he showed his skills, handling a boat made out of a single hollow tree and spearing ducks as they flew through the air.”

”What did this ... Eskimo Eskimo ... look like?” I asked, struggling with the unfamiliar word. ... look like?” I asked, struggling with the unfamiliar word.

”His face was round with narrow black eyes. He wore a garment of skin and fur down to his feet.”

My eyes followed the downward sweep of Ralegh's hands, noticing his well-turned legs in their fitted canions and stockings.

”What became of him?”

”He suffered an excess of phlegm in the blood, which gave his skin a sallow hue. He died, like the others.”

”Perhaps he was overcome with grief at being taken from his land, then watching his fellows die,” I said, hearing my voice catch. It was hard to quell that sadness for my father.

Ralegh seemed to read my thoughts. ”Your father was a true and courageous servant of the queen,” he said in a low voice. ”I did enjoy his company, and I find his daughter even more engaging.”

I blinked and a tear fell onto my sleeve. Ralegh handed me a handkerchief edged in lace. It carried his scent, manly but sweet. I thought of the cloak he had spread at the queen's feet.

”How attentive you are ... to mop the waters that ... hinder ladies.” Even as I spoke, I knew that my attempt at wit had failed.

”I miss your meaning, Lady Catherine.”

So I shook out the handkerchief, laid it on the book, and walked my fingers over it. Ralegh threw back his head and laughed. His mirth was like a gust of wind. I tightened my fingers around the handkerchief.

Then I felt his hand cover mine. His palm was hot. He separated my fingers with his own, then drew out the soft folds of cambric between them. I glanced up and his eyes, light brown in hue, held mine. A flush suffused my throat and rose to my face. I s.h.i.+fted my eyes to the pearl gleaming at his ear.

”I didn't mean to keep it,” I said, releasing the handkerchief.

”But I mean for you to have it,” he said. He began to feed it into my sleeve, beginning at my wrist. His fingers played against the skin of my forearm as the handkerchief disappeared. I was too startled to say a word.

Footsteps sounded in the hall. I turned and saw Frances standing midway between the bench and the table. Had she seen Ralegh give me the handkerchief? Then the door was flung open and the queen entered just as Walter dropped my arm and I folded my hands in front of me. I was sure my face was the color of vermilion. With my thumb I tucked the lace edges of the handkerchief out of sight.

”Is not Thomas's scope an amazing instrument?” asked Ralegh, clapping his hands together.

”Indeed,” said the queen in a clipped voice. ”Now I should like to discuss the greater purpose of this voyage.”

Ralegh nodded but before he could speak, the queen went on.

”I am not so foolhardy as to send my subjects to colonize a land about which we are ignorant, lest we fare no better than the Spaniards. Their cruelty incites the Indians to murder any European who steps on their sh.o.r.es.”

”I would not send men to their slaughter,” said Ralegh in deep earnest. ”Not for a mere puff of fame.”

”Nor will I tolerate adventuring for the sake of gain,” said the queen. ”Our purpose must be to bring true religion to the pagan peoples and induce them to follow the laws and customs of England.”

”I heartily agree, Your Grace,” said Ralegh. ”Thus the chief aim of this first voyage,” he continued with silver-tongued eloquence, ”and the best hope of our future success, will be to study this yet-unknown land, its flora and fauna, and most especially its human inhabitants, that we might learn their language and customs and begin our venture in mutual friends.h.i.+p.”

I saw how Ralegh's words worked magic on the queen. Her severe look softened into one of admiration, even affection. She stepped closer, lifting her eyes to his.

”And how, my dear Warter Warter, will you do that?”

In a tone of triumph, Ralegh announced, ”I will return with a tribute for Your Majesty, a relic of that far realm-that is, a natural inhabitant of the New World. I will bring back an Indian!”

For the rest of the day I felt the handkerchief against my skin and reviewed in my mind the scene in the library. I had been drawn to Walter Ralegh like a piece of iron to a magnet. A curiosity I hardly knew I possessed had driven me to question him boldly. Like one starving for knowledge I had devoured his stories. I had even touched his hand! Was it wrong for me to let his fingers press my arm? I couldn't ask Frances, for as a Puritan she disapproved of everything pleasurable. I wondered again if she had seen Ralegh give me the handkerchief. Surely his back had hidden our hands from her view. But she must have seen the turmoil written on my face.

That night when I undressed I secreted the handkerchief in the pocket of my nights.h.i.+ft. After lying down I took it out, sniffed it, and felt the lace edging all around. In one corner my fingers encountered raised st.i.tching. Was it an emblem or lettering, a message in the cloth? I slipped from my bed and went to the the window to examine the handkerchief in the moonlight.

Embroidered in the corner were the initials E.R. E.R.

Elizabeth Regina.

The handkerchief had been a gift from the queen to Ralegh!

When the queen sent for me the next day, I was certain that she knew I had the handkerchief. But Her Majesty only gave me a ruff to set and asked me which jewel best became her, a cl.u.s.ter of rubies or an amethyst brooch. I recommended the rubies and, filled with relief, turned to leave.