Queen of This Realm (37 page)

“She intends to marry him. It will strengthen her claim, for he has a slight one himself.”

“What do you think of Darnley?”

“Dissolute and weak.”

“And do you think he will be a help to our lady of Scotland?”

Cecil shook his head.

“She has declared her intention of marrying him,” I said. “The little boy is puffed up with pride and already sees himself as the King of Scotland
which …” I added slyly … “is what happens with ambitious men when queens lift them from their humble status.”

Cecil smiled. He was beginning to realize that I would never share my throne with any.

“Well, Master Cecil,” I went on, “here we have the Grey girls in restraint where they can do little harm even if they had the wit to do so. Oh, I know they would be merely the figureheads of ambitious men as poor Jane was, but we have them safely under lock and key. And Mary of Scotland is to marry her Darnley. May she have quick joy of him for I'll warrant it will not last long.”

Cecil nodded and I went on: “Should I not have reason for rejoicing?”

“Your Majesty is right,” he said. “We should rejoice.”

And we did even more when the news came to us that Mary had indeed married Darnley and he was proclaimed King of Scotland.

“I am confining the Countess of Lennox to the Tower for daring to bring the marriage about—another troublemaker out of the way. We shall deplore the marriage in public, Master Cecil, and only while we are alone congratulate ourselves that it has taken place.”

“It can bode no good for Scotland,” said Cecil. “And what is bad for Scotland must needs be good for England.”

A TERRIBLE TRAGEDY
occurred about this time.

I knew that Kat had been ailing for some time. I insisted that she remain in her bed and pass on her duties to others which she did most reluctantly, until she became too ill to be able to do anything else.

When it was borne home to me that she was not going to recover, I was overcome with grief and whenever I could escape from my state duties I was at her bedside. She loved to hold my hand and talk of the past. Sometimes her mind wandered and I believe she thought she was back in the Dower Palace at Chelsea where Sir Thomas Seymour had pursued me.

“You were a wayward girl,” she said. “You led him on. Oh, it was dangerous … and so exciting. Do you remember when he cut your dress to pieces in the garden? Do you remember when he came barefoot to your bedroom?”

I said I remembered.

“And the terrible time they took me … and Parry, remember? The Tower … I never knew such fear … and I betrayed you, I betrayed my darling…”

Then I would go down on my knees and try to soothe her.

She had never betrayed me, I told her. She had only told what had happened and they had forced her to do that. She was my very dear Kat and one
of the happiest days of my life had been when she had come back from the Tower.

So we talked and each day she grew more wan, her voice more faint, and she could not remember very clearly those events from the past. She merged Thomas Seymour with Robert Dudley. “Such men,” she said. “The most handsome men in the world… both of them. We both loved them, didn't we, my precious.”

I hid my tears from her but when I was in my bedchamber I wept for my dearest friend.

It was a very sad day when she died. I shut myself away and would see no one. There was nothing I could do but grieve.

THE POSSIBILITY OF A
marriage for me still excited the minds of all those about me. I think Cecil had realized that I was speaking the truth when I told him I would never marry, but being the politician he was he was as interested as I was to receive offers from heads of state with whom he was eager to make alliances.

Catherine de' Medici was offering her son, now Charles IX, and as he was about sixteen years of age and I was past thirty we should have made a somewhat incongruous pair. Moreover I believed he was a little mad, but the crown of France, as Cecil pointed out, was not to be lightly turned aside. I replied that as Queen of England I should be expected to live here and as he was King of France he must be in France; I reminded him of the unsatisfactory state of affairs between Philip of Spain and my sister Mary. It was one of those points which people like to argue over and which are always so useful in making negotiations hang out over a long time. I always looked for them because although I was determined not to marry abroad—or anywhere—I found discussing the possibilities too fascinating to cast on one side. Then it was suggested that as the King of France would certainly have to stay in France why should I not take his brother the Duc d'Anjou. The age difference would be even greater, I said. But talks went on.

Then I made a discovery which infuriated me. I had suspected for some time that my cousin Lettice Knollys was interested in Robert and he in her. I had dismissed this because she was married to Devereux, and although for a girl of her nature that might not be an obstacle to a passionate friendship with another man, I did not think that Robert would jeopardize his future so certainly as to have a relationship with someone so close to me. That there were women in Robert's life I accepted. He was a normal man and I would not have had him otherwise. His wife was dead—not that he had spent much time with her—and I expected that he would have light affairs outside the Court, and I imagined that when he indulged in them he would be
thinking with regret how different these women were from the prize he coveted.

I had often watched Lettice. She really was a very beautiful woman. That she was restless, I guessed, for it was clear that Walter Devereux would not satisfy her and I had given him a post which kept him in Ireland for most of the time. He was an excellent administrator but a dullard in company I could well believe.

I should have sent her away from Court before it happened because my instinct told me that any man on whom Lettice set her fancy would not escape very lightly, and that in many ways she would call the tune. In a manner of speaking she was not unlike myself. Perhaps that was why I felt I understood her so well.

I intercepted those glances; I noticed how embarrassed some of my ladies were when I referred to Lettice and Robert, so I was sure.

I felt like summoning them both to my presence and banging their heads together, and then dismissing them from Court. No! I would not give them a chance to be together. They should be clapped into the Tower.

This was folly. I must curb my temper. If I said I would marry Robert he would drop Lettice tomorrow like a piece of hot pie that burned his fingers. But that was too big a price to pay even to discountenance them.

I asked Lettice about her husband and whether she missed him. She made vague answers and I found myself accusing her of clumsiness, taking great pleasure in nipping her arms till she cried out in pain. Sometimes I slapped her with real venom, and because she received these marks of my displeasure with a veiled smile, almost of derision, I wondered whether she suspected I knew.

Robert did not appear to notice any change in my demeanor but then he was not as subtle as Lettice.

I had always liked handsome people around me, particularly men, and I let myself believe that they all meant the charming things they said to me. They all behaved as though they were in love with me—indeed that was one of the passports to my favor, and some of them did it remarkably well.

I had my favorites from time to time and I liked them to work well for me as well as admire me. Cecil was an exception. I did not want compliments from him; he would never have known how to pay them in any case. What I asked from him was all he was prepared to give—devoted service and the truth. Robert was unique. Whatever should come between us I knew could not be lasting. My love for him was a steady flame, yet something which appeared to be in danger of being doused, but I knew never would.

Two of my favorite young men at this time were Christopher Hatton and Thomas Heneage. Both were extremely handsome, with impeccable
Court manners; they knew how to dress immaculately and behave in the manner necessary to gain my favor. Hatton was one of the best dancers I had ever seen, and he and I dancing together were a spectacle to make watchers spellbound. He was clever too.

Thomas Heneage was older but none the less charming. I had appointed him a Gentleman of the Bedchamber soon after my accession and he had a seat in Parliament as member for Stamford.

Robert had already shown some jealousy of these two for he could never bear to see me show favor to anyone else and till now it had always been clear that however others pleased me there was one who remained firm in my affections.

However, I was very angry with Robert over Lettice and I was determined to show him that my fancy was not so deeply set on him that I could not feel affection for others.

The opportunity came on Twelfth Night when the great event of the evening was the ceremony of the King of the Bean. It was a variation of a game which had been played for centuries when some little device is used to name the one who will be honored for the evening and whom, until midnight, all must obey.

In this version, the Bean was placed on a silver platter and carried in with great ceremony by one of the pages who knelt before me and presented it to me. Then I would take the Bean and bestow it on the man of my choice who would then be nominated. The first thing the King of the Bean demanded— and it was a rule that all must obey that night—was to kiss the Queen's hand.

I always pretended to ponder and regard the gentleman before me earnestly as though assessing his right to the honor of the Bean, but I invariably bestowed it on the one who seemed to me to outshine all others. That, of course, always had to be Robert.

On this night, seated about me were several of my favorite young men and among them Robert, Heneage and Christopher Hatton.

Robert did not know the extent of my annoyance with him for he was smiling preparing to accept the Bean.

However, just as he was moving forward to kneel before me and be ready to take it, I cried out in ringing tones: “I name Sir Thomas Heneage King of the Bean.”

I was almost sorry to see the change in Robert's face. He turned quite pale and his lips tightened while he looked as though he could not believe his ears. Much as I wanted to punish him for his philanderings, I felt sorry for him and I was sure that anything that had happened was the fault of that woman, Lettice Knollys.

Sir Thomas however was overcome with delight and was kneeling before me looking up at me with that brand of adoration which was so pleasing when it came from an attractive man.

“Come, Thomas,” I said, “make your demands.”

He looked at me almost wonderingly, and when I held out my hand for him to kiss, all the time I was watching Robert's glowering looks.

The evening progressed. Robert disappeared for a while and I noticed Lettice Knollys did too. I did not ask where they were but I noticed the time they were away and I was growing more and more angry. I had to restrain myself from sending someone to find them and bring them back to me; but that of course would be folly. It was almost as though Robert did not care that I had passed him over for Heneage. Oh, but he did! I had seen his face when I gave the Bean to Sir Thomas.

I danced a great deal that night, first with Heneage and then with Hatton. The floor cleared while Hatton and I performed and everyone applauded wholeheartedly. Sir Thomas forbade any to use the floor while we danced for he said everyone would want to see the most perfect, lively yet elegant performance of the Queen. I saw Robert come back to the ballroom. Lettice was not with him but they would not be so foolish as to return together but I was sure they had been with each other. I noticed, too, the furtive glances which were cast at Robert. He must have been aware of them, too. People were whispering about him, asking themselves if this was the end of his favor with me and whether I was thinking of setting either Heneage or Hatton up in his place. It must have been galling for Robert and I almost called him to me to comfort him and to show these crowing courtiers that they were quite wrong. My anger with him would pass as soon as he gave up sighing for my cousin Lettice and turned his attention entirely on me. But this was part of his punishment and I must not weaken toward him.

Sir Thomas announced that there was to be a game of Question and Answer, one which was played frequently at Court revels and as he was the King of the Bean, Heneage would say how it was to be played on this night. He would select the questions and then say who was to ask them of whom. I guessed, of course, that Robert would be selected for Heneage was as jealous of Robert as Robert was of him, and having seen Robert suffer the humiliation of not being selected to take the Bean, he would be only too ready to submit him to further discomfort.

“I command my Lord Leicester to ask a question of the Queen,” declared Heneage.

Robert calmly waited while Heneage said slowly: “The question is, Which is more difficult to erase from the mind, an evil opinion created by an informer or jealousy?”

I smiled at Robert as he turned to me and repeated Heneage's words.

I thought: You are indeed jealous, my dear Robert, and I suppose so am I. How foolish we are to cause each other pain.

And I replied: “My Lord Leicester, they are both hard to be rid of, but jealousy would seem to be the harder.”

Applause rang out as though I had said something profoundly wise, but Robert had flushed and he did not meet my eye.

It had not been a very amusing evening for me. I missed him for he disappeared again. He was indeed piqued. I was very sorry but I did not intend to allow him to carry on his philandering at my Court.

WHEN I HEARD
that Robert was going to fight a duel I was filled with apprehension. It was exciting to know that they were fighting for my favor but terrifying to contemplate that Robert might receive some injury or—a prospect which appalled me—be killed.

It appeared that on the morning after the night of the Bean, Robert had sent a messenger to Heneage telling him that he was going to call and he would be bringing a stick with him for he had to administer a lesson. There could be only one response to that and Heneage made it. The Earl of Leicester would be very welcome and Sir Thomas Heneage would be waiting for him with a sword.