Queen of This Realm (48 page)

She was never dismayed. She presumed too much on the Boleyn connection which made us some sort of cousins.

There is a smugness about her, I thought, and I believed that at one time she must have been rather friendly with Robert.

I would watch them. I was not having any immorality at my Court. Lettice was now a married woman, and if she did not remember it,
I
should.

When the women left me, I dismissed Lettice from my thoughts. I was wondering what delights Robert had prepared for the next day.

IT WAS SO HOT
that July and because of this we did not go out hunting until the late afternoon and we would return in the twilight. Robert always had some new pageant to greet me and the days contained such a surfeit of entertainment that but for their brilliance and originality, they might have
palled. I could never be sure what was being devised for my delight, and when I heard that the cost of all this exceeded one thousand pounds a day, I wondered at Robert's extravagance. When I mentioned this to him, he looked at me reproachfully and asked how he could count the cost when he was catering for the pleasure of his Queen.

It was all very wonderful, but life had taught me that it is not natural to enjoy such unalloyed pleasure, and perhaps I began to look round for a little canker in the richness. I found that my suspicions would not let me get those women out of my mind: Douglass Sheffield and Lettice Knollys. Douglass I felt I understood; I could sum up her nature: soft and yielding, demanding affection which she should have got from Sheffield; and then there was something unsavory about Sheffield's death. Robert had feared that his promises to her might be brought to my ears. It was disturbing to wonder whether he would murder on my account. That thought brought back echoes from the past.

However, the lady who caused me the most disquiet was Lettice. There was something so sly about her; she was harboring secrets. I had noticed the way in which she and Robert deliberately avoided looking at each other. That was not natural. Lettice was one of those women at whom men looked a good deal and Robert's studied indifference was too marked.

So there were these suspicions to ruffle the soft beauty of the paradise Robert had devised for me and, though I forgot those qualms for long stretches at a time, and I threw myself wholeheartedly into the entertainments, they remained.

Perhaps some of the most amusing moments occurred when the carefully organized pageants did not proceed as intended. I shall never forget the water scene which had been arranged to welcome me back to the castle after the hunt. It was on the lake, which always looked its best at night. Lighted by torches, the scene had a look of fairyland, and as I rode in I was greeted by the mermaid who was accompanied by a huge dolphin on whose back rode a masked man dressed to represent Orion.

As I approached the lake Orion started to recite his verses; the theme was that which I had heard many times since coming to Kenilworth. I was the greatest Queen in the whole world. I had been sent by God's Grace to rule England. All was well while I was on the throne and Kenilworth was blessed because I had deigned to stay within its walls. The trouble was that Orion could not manage his words. Like everyone else he must have been instructed to learn them by heart, for to have read them would have robbed them of their spontaneity; and it was in any case unlikely that these people would have been able to read.

However, Orion was having more difficulty than most and having stumbled
his way through the first lines, he lost the thread and began again. I could see that Robert was getting very restive, but I was smiling pleasantly knowing that the humble man was doing his best.

He had come to a stop and clearly he had forgotten the rest of his speech. He tore off his mask so that his hot face, purple with exertion, was exposed, and he cried out: “I am no Orion. I am but honest Harry Goldingham, Your Majesty's most loyal subject.”

There was just a brief silence. Harry Goldingham had suddenly realized that he had ruined the pageant and was looking fearfully at Robert, glowering beside me.

“But,” I cried, “my loyal subject Harry Goldingham you have made me laugh, and I do declare that I like your performance as well as anyone's.”

Harry Goldingham leaped from his dolphin and came to kneel at my feet. I gave him my hand and he kissed it fervently. I had made a friend for life, and it was incidents such as this and my natural instinct for dealing with them which won the love of my people.

I made it clear to Robert that I did not want Harry Goldingham reprimanded. I said: “I have enjoyed his efforts. There is a good man and a loyal one.”

So that passed off very well and I said afterward that it was one of the highlights of my stay at Kenilworth.

People from the surrounding countryside were allowed to come in and see the performances, but I think most of them came to see me. I was always gracious to them, being aware always of the need to hold my people's approval, and that it was more necessary to me than anything else.

Some of the performances of these country folk could be a little wearisome, but I never showed that I was in the least bored nor that I compared their rustic antics with the sophisticated players who entertained me at Court.

I sat through
Hock Tuesday
which was played by certain men of Coventry and was founded on the massacre of the Danes in the year 1002. The insolence and cruelty of the Danes and the bravery of Hunna, commanderin-chief of Ethelred's army, was stressed. There were realistic encounters between Danes and English knights, which ended in the Danes being beaten and held captive by the English women. This I took as a compliment to my sex.

Afterward I expressed my delight in the play and my fears that the Danes might be victorious in swordplay.

“Oh no, Your Majesty,” roared the English knights, “us 'ud never have let that be.”

I said that I should have known the English must triumph.

I gave gifts of money to the players, which pleased them well, and to make it a very special occasion I bestowed knighthoods on five members of the nobility—among them Burghley's eldest son, Thomas Cecil.

There was one other play for my pleasure. This was entitled
A Country Bridal
and, compared with
Hock Tuesday
, it was a polished production.

It was the story of a country marriage which for some reason was considered to be a matter for ridicule. The bridegroom was by no means handsome and was clad in an old tawny worsted jacket, a straw hat, and had a pair of harvesting gloves on his hands as he came limping onto the scene. The morris dancers followed him with Mad Marian, a jester, and the bridesmaids—none of them below thirty years of age. A boy came next carrying the bride cup; and last of all, the bride, who was nearer forty than thirty, and made up to look as ugly as possible in a tousled wig and an ill-fitting smock.

The morris dancers danced and the pair were married and staggered off together to the wild excitement of the crowd who had been allowed into the grounds to see the performance.

How they loved it! And yet their eyes were more often on me than on the players; they were clearly gratified to see me laughing.

I did wonder why Robert allowed this piece to be performed. The bride, who was well past her prime, might have been meant to be a lesson to me. Was Robert trying to tell me that we were both getting old and if ever we were going to marry we should do so now? Subtlety was not one of Robert's gifts. However, so much did the people enjoy the play that I refused to consider that there might be some ulterior motive in its selection.

The next day there was an incident concerning Lady Sheffield.

I had been watching the ban dogs. There were thirteen of them and they were very wild, having been locked away and kept short of food to make them fierce. Before the dogs appeared the bear had been trundled into the arena. He looked vicious and very formidable. I was so close as to see his little pink eyes leering round him, scenting danger, ready for the attack.

Then the dogs were let out. The battle was fierce and bloody. I sat there watching, entranced. Sometimes I thought the bear would win… but no, the dogs were triumphing, but at what cost to them! The people shouted and cheered the dogs. There was a deafening noise and a constant yelping as the dogs, panting and bloody, went in again and again to the attack.

When the battle was over with no victor, for although one or two of the dogs survived they would never fight again, I was sitting in the shade with some of my ladies round me when a young boy ran up and stood beside me. With the innocence of children he placed his hands on my knees and gazed up at me wonderingly. He was a particularly handsome child, and I was always drawn to children.

“Why do you gaze at me, little boy?” I asked.

He replied: “You are the beautiful Queen.”

I patted his head. “So you find me beautiful, do you?” I could never resist compliments. “Is it because I am the Queen, or would you find me beautiful if I were not?”

The child was puzzled, but he delighted me even more by nodding vigorously which I accepted as Yes.

“You know I am the Queen,” I said. “But I do not know who you are. Tell me your name.”

“Robert,” he said.

“Robert!” I echoed. “That is a very favorite name of mine.”

He smiled up at me, and I said: “Who brought you to Kenilworth?”

“It was my mama,” he answered.

“And who is your mama?”

He looked at me in some amazement and said: “She is my mama.”

I smiled and patted his dark head about which the hair curled prettily.

I turned to one of my women. “Whose child is this, do you know?”

“His mother is Lady Sheffield,” was the answer.

“Indeed,” I said. I was remembering the Sheffield scandal. How long ago was it that I had heard the story about Robert's letter to her, followed by Sheffield's death? Those were uneasy thoughts. How old was the child? Not more than three years I would say. Then was it possible that he had been born after Sheffield's death?

Then… who was the father?

I kept the boy with me, but the conversation of a child of three can be somewhat inconsequential and though some of his answers were clear enough, one must wonder how much was fantasy.

“Would you like us to remove the child, Your Majesty?” asked one of the women.

“No, no, let him stay awhile. Will you find the Earl of Leicester and tell him that I would see him.”

It was not long before Robert was speeding across the grass.

The little boy gave a cry of joy and ran to him, falling against him and clutching his legs. Robert picked him up in his arms and the boy was laughing. Of course Robert had that charm which would attract even children, but it did seem to me that the boy and he were not strangers.

Robert said something to the child and looked about him. A woman came up and took the boy, who rather reluctantly allowed her to lead him away.

Robert came to me smiling and urbane, but was he just a little uneasy?

He took my hand and kissed it. “I trust Your Majesty continues to enjoy our presentation.”

“Extremely so, Robert. You excel in everything. The entertainment has never been surpassed. What a charming boy!”

“Yes. A pleasant child.”

“An exceptionally handsome one.”

“Did Your Majesty think so?”

“Did you not? He seemed to know you.”

“Oh yes, I have seen him before.”

“Whose son is he?”

“Lady Sheffield's.”

“An old friend of yours.”

“I have so many friends.”

“Not too many of those who have been involved in scandal, I hope.”

“Rumor? Scandal? Who can escape it?”

“Not some of us, Robert, I fear. So she is a guest of yours here at Kenilworth—this Lady Sheffield?”

“Yes—one of the Howards, Your Majesty will remember.”

“Wasn't there some mystery about her late husband's death?”

“Sheffield? Oh… not really. He died rather suddenly… dysentery, I think. It carried him off as it does so many. What thought Your Majesty of the bear?”

“A most unpleasant creature who deserved his fate.”

“If he has amused Your Majesty for a short while, he has served his purpose.”

“The little boy diverted me. I thought him a most delightful child.”

Robert was uneasy, eager to divert me in order to stop my insistence on talking of the child. I took a shot in the dark.

“He reminds me of someone.”

The shaft went home. Robert was very disturbed now. “He seemed to be fond of you, Robert,” I went on. “Oh, children's fondness is not to be relied on.”

“I suppose you seem very magnificent in that little one's eyes. He looked at you with something like adoration.”

“If only I could arouse such feelings in one other! Do you remember the boy who brought you flowers and carried words of hope from you to me when we were in the Tower together?”

“I remember it well. How different life is for us now! We should be grateful for what God has given us, Robert, and not hanker for more.”

“A man cannot help his dreams, Elizabeth.”

I said: “Remember that there is always hope.”

I saw the light leap into his eyes. I saw the fierce longing. He took my hand and kissed it and his eyes lifted to mine were full of adoration. This was how I liked to see Robert. That was how I wanted him always to be. Mine. The man who loved me throughout his life, whose love never swerved, he was always there, waiting, hoping that the word would be given which would make me his wife. Only Robert could fill that role for me; and he did it to perfection. I wanted it to remain thus and I was determined that it should; and no matter what he did outside that relationship I would accept—as long as it did not interfere with his devotion first to me.

All the same I was going to watch Lady Sheffield while I was here at Kenilworth.

I WAS, HOWEVER,
not deeply concerned about Douglass Sheffield. It was Lettice Knollys whom I could not get out of my thoughts. That the woman was up to some mischief I had no doubt; and some instinct told me it was with Robert.