Willow’s amber eyes grew warm with her approval. “You like Robin’s girls, don’t you?” she said.
“How could I not like them!” Angel cried. “They are such adorable little creatures, and, Willow, you will never guess! They call me Mama!”
“It means that they’ve taken to you,” Willow replied. “They’ll never remember Alison as they were far too young when she died, though they’ll, of course, be told you’re only their stepmother. Yes, they’re young enough for you to train in your own ways, but remember to spare not the rod else they be spoilt.”
Velvet smiled to herself as she listened to her oldest sister who only a short while ago had been so suspicious of Angel’s motives for marrying Robin. And Angel! What had happened to that wordly-wise and impudent royal ward? Velvet’s smile broadened. Willow and Angel were two of a kind. They were family-oriented, loving, strong women who would always put husband and children first and foremost above all. Velvet admired them though she didn’t think that she would ever be like them. How strange, she thought, that she, the youngest of all her mother’s children, should be the most like her in spirit. She would have liked to have shared that new knowledge with Skye, too.
They finally reached Whitehall where, to their vast relief, Angel told them that she and Robin had a small apartment where they could go to refresh themselves and repair any damages done to their coifs and gowns. When they reached it, Jane, Angel’s tiring woman, hurried to fetch warm water so that they might bathe their hands and faces. Then she helped them to redo their hair and brushed their gowns free of wrinkles and dust.
Each woman was wearing a gown of velvet as it was far too cool to wear silk outdoors now. They looked like rare gems in their colorful dresses: Willow in a deep ruby red, Angel in a magnificent sapphire, and Velvet in a rich amethyst color. Refreshed by the pleasant golden wine that Jane offered them, they refastened their fur-lined cloaks, which matched their gowns, and prepared to find their way to the tiltyard for the jousting. There they would meet their husbands, and all of them had been invited to sit near the queen.
To their intense embarrassment Elizabeth Tudor was already there when they arrived, but with a gracious wave of her hand she overlooked their tardiness. “The crowds were mighty,” she remarked, offering them the excuse, and they nodded and agreed with her. The queen gazed briefly at them, then noted, “You’re a pretty trio of jewels, I vow.”
“Your Majesty is too kind,” said Willow, smiling.
Elizabeth chuckled. “Willow,” she said, “if you were a man you’d be the perfect courtier. It amazes me each time I remember who your mother is.”
“My mother,” said Willow, “has ever been Your Majesty’s loyal servant.”
“Only, my dear, when it suited her,” said the queen, laughing, “but I have no quarrel with my dear Skye. Perhaps the reason we have always chafed at each other is that we are basically alike. What have you heard from her of late? When may we expect her back in England? I am anxious to learn if her voyage has been successful.”
“There has been no word of late, Your Majesty, which in itself is unusual, for Mama usually keeps a ready line of communication open between herself and London. We only know what she wrote last. From that letter we expect they will be home in the spring.”
The queen nodded, then said softly as if to herself, “It is vital that she succeed!” Then she fixed her glance on Angel. “Tell me, my lady Southwood, is married life all that you envisioned it would be? Are you happy?”
“Aye, madame! My lord husband is the kindest and most loving of men. I can never repay Your Majesty for allowing me to be his wife.” Angel’s beautiful face was radiant with her happiness.
“You are very fortunate then, my little Angel, for it is not always so. Is the rumor true that you’re already with child?”
“I believe it is so, madame.”
“In that, too, you are fortunate,” the queen remarked.
“We should name it after Your Majesty, but we already have an Elsbeth.”
The queen’s laughter was a sharp bark. “Nay, my lady Southwood! ’Twill be a boy, I am certain, and you should name it Geoffrey after your husband’s father! There was a man now! I hope your son will be his like!”
“I shall tell Robin that Your Majesty wishes it,” responded Angel sweetly.
The queen now turned her gaze to the tiltyard. The joust was one of her favorite forms of entertainment, as it had been her father’s. Greenwich, Hampton Court, and Whitehall all had tiltyards. There were three styles of jousting. The first was the Tilts, where horsemen used blunted spears. The second was called the Tourney in which they used swords. The third form of the joust was called the Barriers, and here the opponents fought on foot, alternating between pike and sword. Mock jousting was often the highlight of banquet entertainment and court masques.
Since jousting was the only other type of organized sport in Tudor England apart from archery contests, many came to watch the pageants. A seat in the stands could be had for twelve pence. A courtier not invited to the queen’s box had to fend for himself. Thus it was that many a nobleman and his lady found themselves sharing space with the London public.
The champions, each wearing his own distinctive color, brought their horses into the arena to the sound of trumpets, and the pageant was begun. The servants of those jousting were also dressed in colorful garb, some like savages, some like ancient Britons with long hair hanging to their girdles, and others wore horses’ manes. Some of the knights entered the arena first in carriages, their horses made to look like unicorns with finely wrought, twisted gold horns centered upon their foreheads. Others had their vehicles drawn by blackamoors garbed in balloonlike scarlet pantaloons and cloth-of-gold turbans. The proudest of the knights arrived already in full shining silver armor upon their own spirited and beautiful horses, proudly showing off their mounts’ skills.
Each knight with his servant, upon reaching the barrier, stopped at the foot of the staircase leading to the queen’s box. The servant, in pompous attire of his master’s special pattern would climb the steps and offer the queen a little speech in well-composed verse or a silly jest that would make her and her ladies and guests laugh. When the speech was ended, the queen was presented with a costly gift in the name of his lord, and Elizabeth then gave her permission for the knight to take part in the tournament. When all the knights had presented themselves thusly to the queen, the jousting began.
Among the knights this day was the Earl of Lynmouth, the Earl of BrocCairn, and the Earl of Alcester. Although Willow fussed noisily about her husband’s taking part in the sport—“James must remember that he is no longer a boy!”—she was, in truth, very proud, for he carried her colors, midnight blue and silver silks. He was to ride with Lord Southwood while Alex had been paired with Sir Walter Ralegh.
The tournament began, and two by two the knights rode against each other, breaking their lances across a beam. Gradually the two hundred or so men taking part in the tilting were weeded out until only four were left. The Earl of Essex rode with the Earl of Oxford against the Earl of BrocCairn and Sir Walter Ralegh. Essex carried Elizabeth Tudor’s favor upon his lance, the bright green and white ribbons blowing in the wind. He looked supremely confident for he fully expected to win.
Alex carried Velvet’s favor, silver and scarlet ribbons. He was also confident, for he felt he rode for the honor of Scotland. He didn’t particularly like Robert Devereux, still suspecting him of taking more than a brotherly interest in Velvet. Essex and Ralegh, though companions during the Armada crisis, had once again become enemies, for each was jealous of the other’s influence with the queen. Alex decided that he could not have had a better tournament partner than Ralegh.
Edward de Vere, the Earl of Oxford, looked at his opponents and said to Essex, “That wild Scot fights well, and so does Ralegh. We will not have an easy victory, Robert.”
Essex looked down the field. “Strange,” he drawled, “I think we will. ’Tis only luck and Ralegh’s skill that have brought the Highland savage this far. They will be easy pickings, Ned. My word on it!”
A few minutes later the Earl of Essex’s handsome face registered pure surprise and shock as he saw that his lance was broken and the queen’s colors dumped rudely onto the ground. Oxford’s lance had also suffered an unkind fate due to Ralegh’s skill. The Earl of BrocCairn and Sir Walter Ralegh were declared the champions of the joust that day. They would present their shields adorned with their mottoed emblems to be hung in the Shield Gallery, which was situated by the Thames.
