Queen of This Realm

by Jean Plaidy

  Robert proved to have been deeply in debt. His debts to the Crown alone were over twenty-five thousand pounds. He had spent extravagantly on gifts to me, and I was touched to discover that, apart from the upkeep of his magnificent houses, that was his main expenditure. The houses had of course cost him very dear; he had the richest curtains and tapestries I had seen outside royal palaces. In fact some of Leicester's rooms had been much grander than those of Greenwich or Hampton.

  I had always rejoiced that he lived like a king even though I had denied him the satisfaction of being one.

  Some of those houses had been passed on to Lettice Knollys. Well, she should pay his debts. I let it be known that I insisted that Lord Leicester's debts should be paid in full and the burden of those debts rested on the shoulders of that careful, loving and obedient wife.

  She immediately declared that she had not the means to pay her late husband's debts to which I replied that she had valuable articles in those grand houses which were now hers and they could be sold… all those art treasures, all those fine carpets and hangings and four-poster beds. Their sale would meet the cost of Leicester's indebtedness.

  How she must have raged! I imagined her at Wanstead among her newly acquired possessions. She had thought herself so clever to have married rich Leicester. Well, now she should discover that he owed his greatness to me, and if I said she should give up the articles she valued to pay what her husband owed, then she would do so.

  I had scored a victory over the she-wolf, which brought me some satisfaction, though it did not ease the ache in my heart.

  IF ONLY HE HAD been beside me how I would have reveled in those celebrations which were taking place all over the country in honor of the great victory over the Spanish armada.

  The most important of them all was the thanksgiving at St Paul's when I rode in state through the city of London attended by members of my Privy Council, the bishops, judges and nobles of the land. I sat in a triumphal chariot shaped like a throne with a canopy over it in the form of a crown. Two white horses drew this and next to me rode my newly appointed Master of Horse, Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex.

  It gave me some comfort to look at him. He was not Robert, of course, but there was an indefinable charm about him, and I had a special fondness for him. He lacked Robert's suave manners; very few of my men were as outspoken as Essex; he was the sort of man who would make no concessions in his conversation … even to his Queen. But he admired me. I knew that because I read it in his eyes, in his gestures; and being the young man he was his feelings must be sincere. With most of the others I should have known they were looking for advancement, but with Essex, he must admire me for he would not pretend to do so if he did not. In a way Essex was in love with me. It may seem absurd for a young man of his age to feel love for an old woman, but it was a special sort of love. It was not a physical emotion. That would have been abhorrent to me… but a kind of adoration. It might have been for my royalty or my strength of character; but there were times when he appeared to be dazzled by my person. I was always bejeweled with emeralds, rubies and diamonds and my gowns were decorated with scintillating aglets; my ruffs often sparkled with tiny diamonds; so I was a figure of splendid royalty. But Essex had a special kind of devotion to give me which was different from that I received elsewhere. All my beautiful men—Raleigh, Hatton, Heneage, Oxford, behaved as though they were in love with me. Some were—Hatton, I think. He had remained a bachelor all his life; not that he—unlike Robert—had hoped for marriage, but simply out of love for me. That was touching. Dear Hatton! Burghley, Walsingham… well, to them I was their beloved Queen and they served me devotedly. But with Essex it was different. There was an element of romance in his feelings for me—and that did more to soothe my pain at the loss of Robert than anything else could, and I must be grateful to him for that.

  So it pleased me to see him riding beside me, looking extremely distinguished and handsome with that thick auburn hair and those big expressive dark eyes—that look of Lettice which irritated me a little. I was not sorry that the man I had taken such a fancy to was her son.

  We passed through the gates of Temple Bar where I was received by the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, and after the ceremony of the keys the scepter was placed in my hands.

  From the Temple to St Paul's the streets were hung with rich cloth and the people crowded out to cheer me. I entered the church under my canopy while the clergy sang the litany; and afterward I listened to the sermon which was given by the Bishop of Salisbury.

  His text was: “Thou didst blow with the winds and they were scattered.”

  It was more than that, I thought. My gallant seamen did a great deal toward gaining that victory; and the winds which finally scattered the armada—after it was beaten—were responsible for our losing the prizes; the booty from those ships would have covered the cost of the enterprise.

  After the service I returned through those decorated streets to the palace of the Bishop of London. The cheers thundered out and I knew that whatever tragedy had come to me, I still held the hearts of my people.

  It was a time for rejoicing, and would have been the happiest time of my life if Robert had been beside me.

  I was trying to stop thinking of him and I told myself that this victory was my great compensation. We had dispersed the menace of years. The Spaniards had been too crippled, too ignobly defeated, to come again to us. My people revered me. They loved me. There could not have been a reigning monarch who was more beloved by the people.

  I had another example of this a few days later when I was returning from the Council. It was December and dark and I came back to my palace lighted by torches.

  A rumor had gone around telling the people that if they waited they would catch a glimpse of me. Thus, when I returned I found a crowd gathered at the gates.

  A cheer went up as the people saw me and many of them cried: “God save Your Majesty.”

  I stopped my coach and called to them: “God bless you all, my good people.”

  Then the cry went up again from all assembled there. It was deafening. “God save Your Majesty.”

  I was deeply moved. I held up my hand and there was an immediate silence.

  “Dear people,” I said, “ye may have a greater prince, but ye shall never have a more loving one.”

  They were all about me. I smiled and waved my hand and they saw that I was as affected as they were. Some were in tears and I knew that they would have died for me.

  My spirits were uplifted. My life had lost that which had made it joyous, but I had to go on. It was a fortunate ruler who after thirty years of rule could arouse such emotions.

  I was amused that the Spaniards should attempt to tell their people that they had had a great victory. Philip must indeed be governing a country of fools. Did not the Spaniards know that they had lost their armada which they had been told was invincible?

  A pamphlet which was being circulated throughout Europe came into my hands. It made us laugh. It was so ridiculous. It was supposed to have been written by an eyewitness of the great battle and was called Relations and Advise come to His Majestie from the Happie Fleete whereoff is Generall the Duke of Medina in the Conquest of England.

  It explained how the English had been hopelessly defeated, fled or been captured, and the Duke of Medina Sidonia had El Draque as his prisoner.

  We ceased to laugh because we feared that some people who were away might believe these lies.

  Drake was furious; so was Raleigh; and one of them produced a counterattack in the shape of a pamphlet entitled A Packe of Spanish Lyes, sent abroad to the world Now Ripped Up, Unfolded and by Just Examination, condemned as conteyning false, corrupt and detestable wares worthy to be damned and burned.

  How I despised them! They had been overboastful before the conflict. Surely it was tempting fate to call an armada invincible? They had come with their instruments of torture to set up their vile Inquisition in our land with their organization of pious persecution. They
had been soundly beaten; and now they sought to cover up their ignoble defeat by telling blatant lies which they hoped the world would believe.

  Where was the armada? Where were those braggarts who had set out to conquer England? Many were at the bottom of the ocean, some faring not too comfortably I imagined along the inhospitable coasts.

  It is a pitiable nation which is boastful in planning and despicable in defeat.

  I ordered that this great victory should not be forgotten. I had two medals struck. One showed the Spanish armada in flight and it was inscribed Venit, Vidit, Fugit. Julius Caesar had said that he came and saw and conquered, so my medal said they came and saw and fled.

  The other medal was inscribed Dux Foemina Facti. Well, there were many men who doubted the ability of a woman to rule. In France they had their foolish Salic law which prevented a woman's mounting the throne. It was a mercy there was no such law in England. I wanted the whole world to know that a woman was able to rule as well as a man—in some cases with greater skill.

  I did not mean to imply that I alone had driven off the Spaniards. I knew our success had been due to our brilliant seamen and the planning of my ministers. But I had been at the head of affairs. I was the figurehead. I was the Queen for whom men fought; and I knew full well that a share of the triumph was mine.

  So the celebrations continued and all the time there was a dark shadow over my life. He was gone. I should never see my sweet Robin again.

  LOOKING BACK, I WONDER WHY I LOVED ESSEX SO MUCH. IT must have been because I was looking for a substitute for Robert. It was a hopeless quest, because there could never be one to take his place, and in any case I was not the same young woman as that one of twenty-five who had fallen so deeply in love that I had almost been ready to share my throne with him.

  Essex was handsome; his name was Robert; he was different from the other young men of my Court. His manner, which could be sullen, singled him out. Although why I should have been attracted by that, I cannot imagine. Perhaps somewhere in my mind was the niggling thought that he was her son and in winning him to my side I was taking him away from her.

  Whatever it was I was more drawn to him than to any other—even dashing and often impudent Raleigh, who ran him rather close.

  Essex never made concessions. I remembered him as a boy, not long after our first meeting at Chartley when he had been brought to Court and I offered to kiss him, for he had very handsome looks even then; he had quietly rejected the offer, which I had found amusing then, but which seemed to me now an indication of what was to come. I remember, too, that he wore his hat in my presence and it had to be snatched off his head for he would not remove it.

  So perhaps I should have been prepared.

  He was openly defiant. He presumed on my favors and there were many incidents when I almost felt I would send the young man from Court to teach him a lesson. If Robert had been there I should have done so. I should have had no need of him then; but talking with him, accepting his indifference to my crown, in some way helped me to forget that other Robert—and I needed to forget all the time.

  Essex wanted his own way, but he was impulsive and there was nothing calculating about him; that was where he was so different from my other men. There had never been anyone quite like him. I knew it was unwise to indulge him too much, but whenever I saw that slightly stooping figure coming toward me, and when I looked up into the blazing admiration— which must be genuine for he would never pretend—my heart warmed toward him and I felt happier than I had believed I could possibly feel without Leicester.

  A typical example of his behavior was when we were paying a visit to Warwick's place at North Hall. Essex's sister, Penelope Rich, was staying there, and I did not care to receive her. For one thing she was Lettice's daughter, and if that were not enough to damn her in my eyes, she was conducting an adulterous intrigue with Charles Blount, who had become Lord Mountjoy on the death of his elder brother. Mountjoy was one of my favorite young men, being accomplished and handsome, and I deeply resented his indulging in this affair with Penelope Rich. If they had kept it secret, it would have been a different matter, but Penelope had openly left her husband and set up house with Mountjoy.

  “Her mother's daughter” was my wry comment, when I heard of it.

  And so I came to North Hall with my courtiers. We were met by Essex himself, who had come out to welcome us.

  I soon learned the reason for his coming. He wanted to warn me that his sister was at North Hall and to beg me to receive her.

  I should have welcomed him more warmly if I had thought he had come to greet me rather than to plead for his sister, so I coldly said that I would not receive his sister and that it would be better for her to remain in her apartments during my visit.

  The color flamed into his face. He demanded to know why I received Mountjoy and banished his sister.

  I replied that I had no intention of bandying words with him and turned away; but he remained beside me. I was unfair to his family, he said. I would not receive his mother at Court yet she had done nothing…officially… to displease me.

  I could not say: She married Robert and she was not even faithful to him. So I signed to one of the others to take Essex's place beside me and he had no help for it but to fall back. He was really angry when, arriving at the house, I gave orders that Penelope Rich should stay in her apartments as long as I was at North Hall, as I had no wish to see her.

  He was a hot-headed fool. He could never realize when it was wise to stop. Indeed that was his downfall. At supper he again tried to talk to me. Why should I not receive his sister? Was it not unfair to blame her? Had I not received Mountjoy? Surely I could not be prejudiced against my own sex?

  “Your Majesty, I beg you to receive my sister…to please me.”

  I knew that many present were waiting on my words. They were beginning to say: She is as fond of Essex as she was of Leicester. But Robert would never have been so foolish as to pursue a matter such as this when I had clearly made my feelings known!

  I said: “You are mistaken, my lord Essex, if you think you can persuade me to do something which I have determined not to. I shall not have it said that I received your sister to please you.”

  “No,” he cried hotly. “You will not receive her because you wish to please that knave Raleigh.” He was shouting. “You will always pleasure that pirate. You would disgrace both me and my sister because that country churl asks it.”

  “Be quiet, you young fool,” I said. “I order you to say no more on this subject.”

  But he would not be quiet. He began to shout abuse of Raleigh, for the two of them were more jealous of each other than any two men I have ever known—and I had seen some jealousies at Court! I was alarmed for him— angry as he made me—for Raleigh was actually a member of this party. Quite clearly he was out of earshot at this moment, but I could picture those two fighting each other to the death of one of them.

  I lost my temper too—which I did even more easily than I had in my youth. I said: “How dare you shout at me! How dare you criticize others in this way! Be silent! Or you will find there is no place for you at my Court. As for your sister, she is another such as your mother. It seems to me you are birds of a feather, and I should make sure that none of your breed enter my Court. I should send you away.”

  “Then do so,” he cried. “I have no wish to serve a mistress who allows adventurers to fawn upon her. Raleigh wants me gone. Very well. I leave you to your favorites. I shall go away from here and take my sister with me.”

  No one had ever seen such a display of insolence before. If anyone else had attempted it, I should have ordered an immediate arrest.

  But he looked so young, with the anger in his eyes, so I merely said: “I am weary of this foolish boy,” and turned away.

  He strode out of the hall.

  The next morning I learned that he had left North Hall. He had sent his sister home with an escort and made his way to Sandwich, intending to embark for the Lo
w Countries.

  I immediately sent a party of guards to bring him back.

  He was already on a ship which was about to sail so I caught him in time. When told that my orders were that he should return at once, he defiantly refused to do so; but the guards informed him that if he did not accompany them willingly, they would take him by force.

  So he returned and in due course I sent for him.

  He came to me—quite unabashed.

  “You are a foolish boy,” I said. “Never do that again or I shall send you to the Tower. I have been lenient with you and your tantrums, but you should take care that you do not try me too far.”

  He was sulky, but after a few days I forgave him, and he was back in favor again—as much as he had ever been.

  He was one of those young men who created storms wherever he went. Sometime earlier he had quarreled bitterly with Mountjoy—who had been Charles Blount at that time. I had taken a fancy to Blount as soon as he appeared. Handsome, and with a great deal of charm, he was also clever, so he had all the qualifications needed to bring him into the group which I kept around me. I showed my pleasure in his company by presenting him with a golden chessman which he attached to the sleeve of his coat, so that the sign of my favor might be prominently displayed.

  Essex had regarded himself as my very favorite young man at that time and he had been furiously jealous of the attention I bestowed on Blount, and being Essex he made no attempt to disguise his feelings.

  In the hearing of several courtiers he commented: “Now, I perceive, every fool must wear a favor.” This remark was reported to Blount without delay and that young man lost no time in challenging Essex to a duel.

  I knew nothing of this or I should have stopped it, but it went ahead with the result that Blount disarmed Essex and wounded him—though only slightly.

  I was furious. Although I liked to see my young men jealous, I was horrified at the prospect of some harm coming to them—so I reprimanded them both and sent them from the Court for a while.