nodded grimly.
"Go to the Queen. In faith, she knows me to be more interested in my lands and dogs than treasons or the law. Plead my case with her, cousin."
Edward turned from the door and opened his tunic. He began unwrapping a length of thin cord from around his waist.
"Such pleadings would be futile," Edward said softly. "Our hopes now lie outside both Queen and law courts. You must flee to Spain. I've charted a swift vessel to take you there."
-:-:-
Late that night, under cover of darkness, Thomas tied a candlestick to the end of the cord Edward had left with him. Reaching through the cell window he managed to hurl its weight across the moat and Tower Wharf. It landed in the river Thames, making a small splash near where Edward was waiting in a moored rowboat.
Edward tied a sturdy rope to the cord. Thomas pulled the rope back through the window and tied it securely. Squeezing through the window, he lowered himself down the rope and into the rowboat. Casting off, Edward pulled fiercely on his oars.
The rowboat cut through the flashing moonlit water, heading downstream towards the Thames Estuary. Thirty minutes later, it tapped gently against the side of "The Grace of God," a fast sailing ship. Edward and Thomas clambered on board.
Without warning, guards rushed from hiding and attacked them. In a fierce but uneven struggle, the two cousins were quickly overpowered. Burghley stepped from the shadows, smiling grimly.
-:-:-
Thomas was taken to a dungeon buried deep within the Tower where he was chained and shackled. Edward followed an armed escort to Burghley's office in the Lord Chamberlain's Building.
Burghley sat waiting behind his desk. The guards guided Edward into a chair. Burghley waved them out of the room.
"It was brave but foolhardy, just like you, Edward. Unlike you, it was disloyal and stupid."
Edward realized that the Lord Chamberlain's anger was tempered by his joy at having the whip hand over him.
"Disloyal to her Majesty. Treasonable even. Why do you try to outwit me? You know I have eyes and ears everywhere."
"Especially when lovers are enjoying private trysts."
"Juggling words with me won't help you or Norfolk."
"My cousin already stood in grave danger."
"Norfolk's treason rests in her Majesty's hands. For you, were better she never hears of this night's sorry work."
"That you can arrange."
Burghley nodded.
"And the price? What's left of my lands?"
"Listen to me, now. I swore a solemn oath to your mother that I'd treat you like my own son...I have a daughter."
"Claire."
"I know that she cares for you."
"What of it?"
"It has always been a wish of mine for her to marry into some great family."
"Your daughter, my wife?"
"She thinks very well of you."
"But - we grew up together. She's like a sister."
"No blood relation."
"The girl's barely sixteen!"
"Such an impediment has never hampered you before..."
Edward leapt to his feet. "Disdain! Rather corrupt me ever!"
"Come now sir, surely an arranged marriage is no novelty to one of your high blood."
"To another of high blood, perhaps."
"So, it is only blood you reject in her. Yet, our bloods poured together quite confound distinction."
"Tied down in marriage...to Claire. I don't love her."
"What is this word 'love,' I wonder?"
Edward turned his back on Burghley, refusing to answer. Unconcerned, Burghley continued, "Whatever vague, will o' the wisp thing 'love' is, as an Earl, you must know that earls do not marry for its fleeting affections. Great men with great titles wed for property, progeny and advantage. Thus, they ensure that their sons will also be great men with great titles."
"My father married for love."
"Did he, indeed?" Burghley questioned.
"What mean you?"
"Nothing, nothing at all. Edward, hear me out, I know her Majesty favors the match."
"You've broached this with the Queen?" The Earl could hardly believe his ears.
"Of course."
"How dare you!"
Burghley dismissed Edward's angry protest with a wave of his hand. "Her Majesty feels that this would be a particularly good time to take one of England's noblest families away from the Catholic fold. As you know, she's just been excommunicated by Rome..."
"Like her father before her."
"The Queen is anxious to strike back."
"Isn't the Jesuit priest 'strike' enough? How many do we have to consign to the gibbets? Will a thousand martyrs suffice? Ten thousand? When will it end?"
"Never while the Pope sends spies like Ridolfi to England."
"Those who build the scaffold are the heretics not the poor unfortunates who swing on the rope!"
"You overstep the mark! Remember, I have the power to humble you."
"So my poor cousin Thomas is to die?"
"I do fear greatly for his head, unless..."
"I wed Claire."
"Were our two families united, it would only be natural for me to intervene on the Duke's behalf."
"You'd do everything in your power?"
"Everything, rest assured, my son."
-:-:-
Edward and Claire were married in Westminster Abbey on Christmas Day, 1571. Elizabeth graced the solemn proceedings with her regal presence.
Throughout the ceremony, Burghley kept a sharp eye on his young son Robert. This dwarfish 8-year-old had a hunchback and an unpleasant habit of brooding for days over imagined wrongs. When told of Claire's betrothal, Robert had sunk into a sullen silence. Spoiled like his sister, he bitterly resented the personable Earl of Oxford.
The only person who could control Robert was Claire, the elder sister he adored. Finally, Burghley had sent her, loaded down by her wedding fineries, to collect the sulky youth.
