Queen of This Realm (32 page)

She danced well and dancing was one of my special accomplishments. I never tired of it. I loved to glide across the floor and I knew that I looked my best when dancing because of my tallish willowy figure. I often chose to dance with Robert, who also performed well. Very often when we took the floor others would fall away as though to suggest it would be sacrilege to dance while Robert and I cavorted together. The applause would always ring out when the music stopped, and I would smile at the appreciation on the faces of the courtiers knowing that part of their eulogies were directed to the crown; but nevertheless I was an expert performer.

And this girl Lettice Knollys danced as well as I did. None would say she did, of course, but they knew it; and she often called attention to herself when I was dancing and it irritated me faintly; but whatever her charms and accomplishments she had no crown to augment them.

She was inclined to be a little familiar too—presuming on the fact that we were some sort of cousins. I often found the need to rebuke her and sometimes gave her a sharp rap across the knuckles for her clumsiness when she helped to dress me, and I knew that when she hung her head and assumed a humble attitude, she was quite aware that the rebuke had been incurred not for clumsiness but for her own attractions.

Sometimes I wondered why I did not dismiss her. But she was so pretty in a very striking way. I think she had my mother's eyes for they were dark and heavily lashed but whereas my mother had been dark-haired, Lettice's hair was honey-colored. It was abundant and curly. She must have been very like her grandmother, Mary Boleyn, my mother's sister who had been my father's mistress before he married my mother Anne. I heard that Mary had been one of those yielding women who are irresistible to men. I always supposed this was because the men knew there need not be long delays in reaching their desires. Mary was said to be one of those who could not say no, and those are the ones who are naturally irresistible to men, being a constant reminder to them of their own irresistibility.

We were in June. Robert's wife had died last September, but the rumors persisted. I tried to show my indifference to them and had long since ordered the freedom of Mother Dowe who had set the rumors about that I had borne a child or was about to have one. I wanted to show that such foolish gossip was not worth punishing anyone for and that I cared little for my detractors—much as my grandfather Henry VII had done with such good effect in the case of Perkin Warbeck. I was often glad that I had made such a close study of history. It was full of lessons for the living.

Robert was still hoping for marriage and I was still prevaricating. I would not give him a direct no. Nor would I accept any other suitor.

“Time is passing. We are growing older,” pleaded Robert.

“We are still young and because of what happened, there must be a gap of time between then and any steps we take.”

Robert grew sullen, hectoring, which made me laugh. I was constantly reminding him that I was the Queen and that he should not forget it. Poor Robert, how his fingers itched to grasp the crown!

There are men like that. They yearn for power. I could have told him that great tribulations come with a crown as so many of my ancestors had discovered to their cost. It would make no difference. Men like Robert stretched out their eager hands for it. They would do anything for it. They would fight for it, kill…

Mary Sidney was a strong advocate for her brother. “The burdens of state are too much for a woman to carry alone,” she said.

“It depends on the woman,” I told her, my eyes flashing so that she knew better than to pursue the subject.

She changed it. “Robert is planning a Midsummer's Day water party.”

“I have heard nothing of it,” I replied sharply.

“He wanted it to be a surprise for you.”

“He is always planning for me,” I said tenderly.

“Your Majesty, he has told me that he thinks of naught but your pleasure.”

“There is no one like him,” I said.

Mary beamed with pleasure. “I loved all my brothers,” she went on, “but we all agreed there was no one like Robert. He shone among the rest of us from the time he was two.”

“How I should have loved to see him when he was two!”

“He was very sure of himself even then, so they tell me,” said Mary. “They always said he should have been the eldest. He looked after the family. The death of my father and brother…”

“I forbid you to speak of such things. I know Robert looks out for those he loves.”

“And he loves none as he loves Your Majesty.”

“I believe that to be true. I call him My Eyes, because he is always looking out for what is good for me.”

“It is so comforting for a woman to have a man to care for her … even if she is a queen.”

I gave her a slap across the hand—playful but there was a touch of irritation in it. “There are some women, Mary Sidney,” I said, “who are capable of managing their own affairs, even if it be ruling a kingdom.”

“I know that full well. Your Majesty is an example of such.”

“Well, tell me about the Midsummer party.”

It turned out to be an interesting occasion. It was a glorious day as was fitting for Midsummer and the sun shone on the pageant Robert had devised. He was an expert with such arrangements. He had several boats, all decorated with roses and other summer flowers, and it seemed as though the whole Court had turned out to witness the pageant.

There was stirring music coming from one of the barges and children's voices singing the sweetest songs, all in praise of me.

I was sumptuously gowned in white damask with a greenish pattern on it. Green was becoming to my coloring and brought out the red in my hair. My puffed slashed sleeves fell back to show my hands which were adorned with jewels. My hair was carefully dressed with a few false pieces to give it body and I always looked well with it piled high because of my high forehead. I tried to look as much like my father as possible. People still talked of him affectionately; moreover it reminded them that I was his undoubted daughter and the true inheritor of the throne.

Robert was magnificent as always in blue satin. The sleeves of his jerkin were slit from wrist to shoulder to show the doublet beneath which was decorated with pearls and embroidery. His breeches—a fashion borrowed from the French—were full at the top and narrowed at the knee, slashed and
puffed looking like latticed windows with bars across which sparkled with jewels. He had the most perfectly shaped legs I have ever seen and had no need for garters. His stockings, with gold and silver thread woven into them, fitted perfectly. In his hat was a curling blue feather.

I listened for the cheers of the people. They were not quite so wholehearted as they had been before the scandal but they were affectionate enough for me. Less so perhaps when Robert appeared with me, and I knew that I must still act with the utmost caution.

Lettice Knollys was in the same satin-padded, flower-decorated barge as I was and although she was much less elaborately dressed, she managed to look strikingly handsome. I felt a sudden qualm because I caught Robert watching her. She herself was gazing at the shore, but a certain smile played about her lips which could have implied something. What?

He is looking at that woman, I thought. And what was it I saw in his eyes. Lust! How dared he, when I was there.

Then I thought: Robert is a man. I would not have him otherwise. I have held myself aloof. Must I be surprised if he sometimes turns his eyes on other women? I blamed her. Was she playing some game with my Robert?

I would have to watch Madam Lettice. Robert too, perhaps.

I was faintly uneasy. I did not want the situation to change. Marry Robert I could not. I saw that clearly. What if I told him definitely that there could never be marriage between us? He was a free man now—no longer shackled to his little country wife.

Nothing stands still. Life changes. Was Robert growing restive? That was a matter of some concern, especially with a minx like Lettice Knollys close by.

Robert was beside me and I said to him curtly: “So you are admiring the view?”

Whether he knew I had been aware of his interest in Lettice or not, I was not sure. But he immediately turned to me. “I cannot see anything but Your Majesty when you are near.”

“It did appear that you found other objects of interest.”

“I was lost in thought,” he said glibly, “wondering what I could devise for your pleasure.”

The Spanish Ambassador de Quadra was standing near. “I trust my lord,” said Robert, “that you do not find our little entertainment too boring.”

“On the contrary,” said de Quadra, in his rather halting English, “I found it most interesting.”

He was looking from me to Robert speculatively.

“Did you hear the people cheering the Queen?” asked Robert.

“I did. They love her well.”

“We all love the Queen,” went on Robert. “It is our bounden duty to do so, but there are some of us who love her with such intensity that we think of nothing else night and day.”

“And you are one of these, Lord Robert?”

He looked at me fervently and I forgot momentarily what I had thought to be his interest in Lettice Knollys.

“I, more than all the Queen's subjects, love her with an undying love. In fact, my lord, you are a Bishop. Why should you not marry us here and now?”

I looked sharply at the Spanish Ambassador. He did not seem in the least surprised at such a request and looked at Robert almost as though there was some secret pact between them.

I said: “I doubt the Bishop would have enough English to carry him through the ceremony.”

De Quadra was watching me steadily and his next words amazed me. “If you will rid yourself of William Cecil and the band of heretics who surround you, I would willingly perform the ceremony.”

He bowed and turned away.

I said to Robert: “Why did he say that? It is almost as though he had considered the request before.”

“Oh,” replied Robert, “you know these Spaniards. It would have been a delightful way of marrying, don't you think? On a barge…on Midsummer's Day, unexpectedly…”

I felt uneasy. I said rather sharply: “It is not the way in which the people expect their Queen to marry.”

I called Lettice to my side. I wanted to know whether I had imagined what I thought I had seen. She came demurely. Robert scarcely spoke to her. The poor girl must have felt completely snubbed. She did not appear to mind though and Walter Devereux joined us. He was Viscount Hereford, just about Lettice's age—quite a presentable young man but rather dull as I supposed every young man must be when compared with Robert. He seemed quite taken with Lettice and she was turning those startlingly beautiful eyes of hers on him in such a way that was inviting, promising—just as I had imagined she had looked at Robert a short while ago. It was her way with any man—not to be taken seriously.

What I was really thinking about was the strange words of the Spanish Ambassador.

They remained in my mind during the whole of that magnificent pageant.

MARY SIDNEY WAS NOT
the sort of girl who could keep a secret and I very quickly discovered that something was on her mind. She was preoccupied, anxious and uncertain. I reproved her several times for her clumsiness; she did not even seem to hear me, which was strange because generally she was so sensitive and could be upset for hours after a reprimand.

I contrived to be alone with her after my toilette had been completed and I said: “Mary, you had better tell me what is on your mind.”

She looked startled and then fell on her knees and buried her face in my gown.

“You should be careful,” I said tartly. “Those aglets on the skirt can be very sharp if they catch your skin. I am always complaining about them.”

She lifted her face to mine and there was no mistaking her woebegone expression.

I said: “Take the stool. Now confess.”

“It is because we all love Your Majesty so dearly…”

“Yes, yes,” I interrupted impatiently. “That is the opening when people are going to admit to have done me some wrong. Get on with it.”

“We have done you no wrong, Your Majesty. Indeed not. There is not one of us who would not die for you.”

“So many have offered me their lives,” I retorted, “that the offer does lose its impact after a while—particularly as these offers are frequently given lightly, so that to offer a life to a queen has become almost a figure of speech. Don't try my patience further, Mary. Admit. Confess, whatever it is.”

“Robert loves you dearly. You are his life. If you could have seen his pride, his joy when you referred to him as your Eyes…He cannot live in this suspense, Your Majesty.”

“And what does he propose to do about that?”

“It was a plan.”

“Do you mean a plot?”

“I mean that Henry and I and Robert thought…if we could get the help of Spain to your marriage, you would agree to it.”

“And how do you think you could get the consent of Spain?”

“Your Majesty, Philip is no longer your suitor, but there is one thing that Spain desires above all else—perhaps more than an alliance through marriage. That England returns to Rome.”