Winter had made the road to Hatfield crisp and hard.  The journey had not been without some peril, for many a horse had stumbled and nearly thrown its rider.
The entourage, cold and miserable, drew rein outside the redbrick palace, their arrival greeted by a man whose extremely sharp halberd was pointed at Seymour's horse.
     'Stand back, man,' Seymour ordered peremptorily.
     He was a good guard.  He ignored the command and instead pressed the blade flat against the horse's sternum and repeated his demand for identification in an uncompromising tone.
     Seymour dismounted.  'I am Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford and I have here Prince Edward to see the Lady Elizabeth.  Now will you stand aside?'
     The guard lowered his halberd, stepping forward and taking the reins from Seymour.  Seymour pushed them into his hands with a glare, then turned to Thomas who was helping the Prince to dismount.
     'Hurry there,' he ordered, 'Your Grace, come inside out of the cold.'
Edward, buried up to the eyes in a fur-lined cloak, made no answer but allowed himself to be propelled inside.
     Robert gave orders to the ostlers roused from their beds, scampering from the stableyard with straw in their hair and manure on their boots.  He stepped into the hall, just in time to see Seymour thrust the Prince into a side chamber and shut the door.
     'Robin?' He turned.  Elizabeth stood on the stairs, dressed only in her nightgown and with a shawl thrown across her shoulders.  'Bess,' he called softly, steering Thomas out of the way and taking the stairs two at a time.
     'What's happening?  Why are you here?'
     'Your brother’s here.'
     'Edward here?  But why?'
     'I don't know.  Edward Seymour and Anthony Browne arrived at Ashridge and said we were packing up at once.'
     'Seymour brought my brother here in the middle of the night?  For what purpose?'
     Robert shook his head.  'We were not told.'
     The side chamber door was opened and Seymour stepped out.  'Dudley,' he called, 'Du- oh, Lady Elizabeth,' he said as his gaze alighted on the staircase.  He made a quick bow.  'Would you mind stepping inside?'
     Elizabeth, fearing bad news, pulled the shawl tighter about her.  Without a word she stepped past Robert, her bare feet making slapping sounds on the floorboards.  Seymour held the door open for her, and then they were gone.

     The latch lifted slowly and the door opened a crack.  A dark, glinting eye peered out.  The corridor was empty, quiet.  Dare he risk it?  He knew from intelligence gleaned from an obliging serving girl that Elizabeth's bedchamber lay at the opposite end of the hall.  It would be but a few yards.  He listened again, then stepped out into the hall, tiptoeing to her door.
     He knocked gently and pressed his ear to the wood.  Some murmurings inside, then the door was opened a few inches.
     'Who is it?'
     'Mistress Ashley,' Robert hissed.  'It is Robert Dudley.'
     'What do you want?'
     'To see the Lady Elizabeth.'
     'Do you know what time it is?'
     'Kat, who is it?' he heard Elizabeth ask.
     'Only that Dudley boy.  I shall get rid of him.'
     'No,' Elizabeth cried, dashing to the door and yanking it open.  She grabbed Robert's sleeve and dragged him inside.  'Oh Robin,' she shook her head as her face crumpled.  'My father is dead.'
     'Bess,' he breathed.  'I can hardly believe it.'
     'You must, it’s true.'  She flung her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his.  Her nose was cold and he rubbed his hands along her back to try to warm her.
     'Then Edward -'
     'Is king,' she finished.  'Ay, and terrified of it.'
     He pushed her away.  'Terrified,' he repeated with a laugh.  'He's King and he's terrified?'
     'How dare you laugh?' she turned to him.  'My father, your king, is dead.  Have you no shred of sympathy for me, Robin?  You, my friend?'
     'Oh, Bess,' he said, reaching for her hand, 'forgive me, I was not thinking.'
     'Oh, you were.  Just not about me.'  She shot him a sideways glance. 'I doubt if you think about me at all.'
     His mind was on other things, otherwise he would have retaliated with an assurance that he thought of her often.  She waited for a compliment, needing it this night especially.  None came, and her bottom lip curled into her mouth.  She bit down on the soft flesh, not hard enough to pierce and draw blood, just enough to make her wince and bring tears to her eyes.  Once started, they came easily.
     'Why do you think Seymour brought Edward here?' he asked, oblivious.  'Is he planning something?'
     'Kat,' Elizabeth called, climbing onto the bed, 'throw him out.'
     'What, my sweet?' Katherine started up from her seat and looked between Elizabeth and Robert enquiringly.
     'Throw him out,' Elizabeth said again, louder this time.
     'Bess?' he asked.
     'You care nothing for me,' she yelled, hurling a pillow at him.  'I tell you my father is dead, and you offer no comfort.  You just stand there and wonder how it will affect you.'
     'That's not true, Bess,' he protested.  Katherine stooped and picked up the pillow from the floor by his feet.  'I think of you, I swear, but this is such news.  My mind is reeling.'
      Elizabeth tossed her head at him and buried herself beneath the bedcovers.  Katherine took his arm and pushed him towards the door.
     'And to think she believed you her friend,' she said contemptuously.
     'Tell her I'm sorry,' he said.  Katherine slammed the door in his face.
     'Dudley?'
      He whirled around, and came face to face with Edward Seymour.
      'What do you do here?'
      'I..I was…'
      'Were you in there?' Seymour jerked his head at the closed door.
      'For a moment only.  I wanted to see how Bess…that is, how the Lady Elizabeth, fared.'
      'So you know that King Henry is dead.  Dudley's son, I should have expected no less,' Seymour said to himself.  'Well, and how is she?'
      'Sorely grieved.'
      'Did you really expect her to be otherwise?  Or were you in there trying to find out titbits to send to your father?'
      Robert bristled.  'Are you so afraid of my father, my lord?  Have you something to hide?'
      Seymour's brown eyes widened, astounded at Robert's insolence.  He grabbed Robert's chin and jerked his head closer.   'Remember to whom you speak, boy.  Don't force me to have you replaced.'  Seymour released him, leaving deep red marks about his jaw.  'Get back to your room.'
      Furious, Robert strode past him, down the corridor to his chamber.  As he reached the door, he looked back to see Seymour enter Elizabeth's room. Oh, Seymour had something to hide all right.  And it was Robert's duty to let his father  know it.

      John Dudley tapped the letter he had just received against his chin and wondered.  Was it really such a dangerous game that Seymour was playing?  The term abduction was too strong a word for the removal of the Prince Edward from Ashridge, although John knew that was exactly what Seymour had done.  But Seymour was Edward's uncle; it would be considered only natural that Seymour would hurry to his nephew's side at such a time as his father's death.  To provide comfort, reassurance.  And none would dare argue with that.  So there was nothing he could do.  Seymour would triumph in this; better to be on the winning side.  Robert.  There was his way in.  He reread with a smile Robert's tale of how he had challenged Seymour, making a mental note to remind Robert to guard his tongue in future.  It never served to let one's true feelings show.
      He pulled out a chair and sat down at his desk.  Reaching for a clean sheet of paper, he dipped a quill in the ink and wrote a short instruction to Robert.  He read it back to himself.  'Get to the Prince.  Secure yourself a position as Gentlemen of the Bedchamber before Seymour has a chance to influence him.  Rob, do this for me, your most loving and trusting father.'  John sealed the letter and despatched it without delay.