The Danish Queen

by Lynda M Andrews

  “Has something gone wrong? All is well for the morrow?”

  “Something has gone wrong foreby, Annie!” James cried, waving a letter in front of him. “Tak’ a glance at that!”

  Anne took the letter from him and began to read while James continued to pace the room muttering.

  The letter was addressed to Lord Monteagle who was known to be a moderate Catholic.

  “My Lord—out of the love I bear to some of your friends, I have a care of your preservation, therefore I would advise you as you tender your life, to devise some excuse to shift of your attendance at this parliament for God and man hath concurred to punish the wickedness of this time and think not slightly of this advisement but retire yourself into your countrie where you may expect the event in safety!”

  “What event? What does this mean?” Anne asked, perceiving that James was again the target of some foul play.

  “I’ll tell ye, Annie. This time it is a fell evil band o’ limmers I hae t’ deal wi’! Yon murdering bastards hae a mind t’ blow up the parliament, aye, wi’ me, yoursel’, ma bairn an’ the hail passel o’ councillors, Lords and commons! De ye ken the enormity o’ it, Annie? I’m fair horrified!”

  The colour drained from Anne’s checks.

  “Madam, here, be seated!” Ludovick Stuart said, pulling forward a chair.

  “Thank you, Vicky. I declare I am faint, the shock…”

  “If it were not for the loyalty o’ Monteagle here, Guid knows what would o’ happened! I canna tak’ it in in its entirety! The hail o’ the government o’ the land—blown t’ Kingdom Come!” James shook his head.

  “Who… what…?”

  “We have the conspirators, Madam. Francis Tresham, Everard Digby, Thomas Percy, Catesby, Ambrose Rookwood, John and Christopher Wright, Thomas Winter and one Guido Fawkes, a fanatic Catholic who has close associations with the Jesuits,” the Earl of Suffolk informed her.

  “Dear God! So many?” Anne raised a hand to her head. “Vicky, pray a little wine, I feel quite faint!”

  “An’ well ye might, Annie! A well concealed connivance this one, they maun hae been at it for months!”

  Anne sipped her wine, the queasiness slowly departing. “Thank God you discovered this foul plot in time. My Lord Monteagle, I shall be eternally grateful as indeed shall be the entire populace.”

  Monteagle bowed.

  “Well, I’ll away now, I hae plenties t’ see to!” James inferred darkly.

  “James, before you go, I wish to speak to you. It will not take up much of your time.”

  James looked disgruntled, being eager to interrogate the conspirators in person. “So lang as it is no’ a waste o’ ma time, Annie, ma time being valuable just now.”

  “No, I will take but a minute.”

  James signed for his companions to withdraw. “I ken ye’re upset, Annie—I am mysel’—but wi’ a guid night’s rest ye’ll be as fit as a fiddle afore morning!”

  “I am sure I shall, but it is not that that I wish to speak to you about.”

  “Then what is it, woman?” James asked, becoming irritable.

  “I am sure it will be of small importance to you…”

  “Dinna tak’ that high an’ mighty attitude wi’ me, Annie!” James warned.

  “I am expecting another child!”

  James stopped mid-stride. “Is tha’ a fact? Well, Annie, that’s guid news to be sure! When?”

  “June of next year.”

  James temporarily forgot his eagerness to be away and became the soul of consideration and concern. “Ye maun tak’ a deal o’ care o’ yoursel’. Och, Annie, ye should hae told me afore this! Yon shock could hae harmed ye and the bairn.”

  “I had intended to tell you tomorrow, after the ceremony.”

  “Aye, well the ceremony will hae t’ be postponed an’ I’ll no’ hae ye exertin’ yoursel’! Ye had best be away t’ your bed now.”

  Anne smiled shakily. “There is no need for me to closet and pamper myself, I’ve had a ‘deal o’ experience’ in these matters,” she reminded him.

  “Aye, well take care.”

  “It saddens me, James, to think that there are those who would wish us dead. I had hoped that we had left such enmity behind in Scotland.”

  “I’ll no’ be affordin’ clemency this time, I can tell ye! I hae to make an example for I dinna intend t’ spend the rest o’ ma life frettin’ for ma safety an’ that o’ ma family!”

  After having been tried, condemned and put to the torture on the 31st January, 1606, the conspirators were dragged to the Houses of Parliament on hurdles. There they were hanged, drawn and quartered.

  In spring there returned to court Lord Herbert of Cherbury, a noted gallant and trouble-maker, bearing with him a gift for the Queen from the Princess of Conti in the form of a scarf which the Princess had worked with her own hands. Far from being delighted with this gift, Anne was decidedly put out, for the scarf was in fact a challenge to the chivalrous gentlemen of the English court to defend the honour and beauty of their Queen against her rival who had proffered the challenge in the form of the said scarf. Lord Herbert was already in disgrace with the King in respect of his rash behaviour with one of Anne’s maids—Mary Middlemore. This young lady was greatly admired by a certain gentleman of the court who one day had surprised her alone and had cut off a lock of her hair as a keepsake, an act which Mary took exception to and complained bitterly and loudly to anyone who would listen. Lord Herbert heard her complaints and being of a gallant but rash disposition had sought out the offending party, seized him by the throat and nearly strangled him! Upon being parted by their friends they had agreed to fight to the death in Hyde Park, but James, hearing of the plan, forbade the duel and committed them both to the Tower for a month to cool their overheated passions.

  When he heard of Herbert’s latest contretemps he was adamant that no such joust was to take place.

  “I’ll no’ hear o’ it! The madcaps may seek their diversions in other ways than breakin’ the peace o’ ma kingdom and their own fule’s head a’ the same time! Though the best that can be said o’ their armour is that it keeps the wearer from being hurt hi’self. Aye, an’ prevents him from inflicting any great harm on any ane else! I’ll no’ hae it!”

  On the 22nd June, Anne bore her seventh child, another daughter. The baby lived to be christened Sophia after her Danish grandmother but sadly died the day following the ceremony. Anne was very ill and lay in a high fever as the funeral barge slowly made its way up river to Westminster Abbey.

  Anne’s slow recovery was aided by the arrival in July of her brother King Christian, whom she had not seen since she had left Denmark, and he landed at Greenwich stairs, accompanied by James who had travelled to Gravesend to meet his brother monarch. Christian had grown into a fine man and so like his sister that a court painter declared that it would be an easy matter to paint one from the likeness of the other.

  “Christian! Oh, how good it is to see you!” Anne cried delightedly while being crushed in a hearty embrace.

  “It does my heart good to see you, Anna, you are feeling stronger?”

  “I am not yet fully recovered but now that you are here I am certain to recover more rapidly. Come, stand back and let me feast my eyes upon you!”

  Christian took a step backward and Anne’s eyes hungrily took in every detail, thinking how stately he looked in his black velvet doublet slashed with cloth of silver and how well the black velvet hat bordered with a band of gold set with diamonds became him.

  “What news have you of mother and Elizabeth and Ulrich?”

  James, seeing that he was to be treated to a long history of events in Denmark, settled down with a flagon and beaker at his elbow.

  Finally, after an hour, he had had enough. Heaving himself to his feet and clapping his tall hat with its drooping ostrich plume on his head, and gathering up his tall, gold-handled stick which accompanied him at all times, he announced that he had some important matters to attend to. �
��We are away t’ Theobalds in two days, ye’ll be accompanying us no doubt? Annie hae planned all manner o’ entertainments for your delight, though I’m afraid she is no’ up t’ travelling yet. The bairn… her delicate state, ye understand?”

  Anne remained at Greenwich. The palace was quiet and peaceful for most of the court had travelled to Theobalds, the home of Robert Cecil, and as she was still far from robust the tranquil atmosphere suited her very well. She did, however, hear with some trepidation that the entertainments which she had planned for her brother appeared (in her absence) to be getting somewhat out of hand—both James’ and Christian’s capacity for alcohol being vast. The masque of ‘Solomon and Sheba’ in particular appeared to have ended in a drunken cantrip! James and Christian, supported by their numerous Scots, English and Danish drinking companions, had fortified themselves before the masque had commenced and were in high spirits when the play finally commenced, commenting loudly and jestingly upon the costumes of the participants who, it appeared, had also been surreptitiously bolstering their courage! The young lady designated to portray Sheba was in due course required to ascend the steps to the dais whereupon sat the Royal party, bearing a tray of confections for their comfort and sustenance. Unfortunately, she was so unsteady upon her feet by the time this moment arrived that she tripped and tipped the entire contents of the tray (marchpane, jellies and such) into the lap of King Christian! Christian took the whole thing in good humour but the masque had certainly not achieved the heights of poetic acclaim that Anne had planned.

  The two inebriate monarchs returned to Greenwich on 3rd August, in time for the banquet which was to be held on board James’ largest ship, The Elizabeth and Anne and Prince Henry-Frederick joined the party. They dined in a pavilion hung with cloth of gold that had been specially erected for the occasion and that evening went ashore at Upnor Castle and ascended Windmill Hill to obtain a view of the panorama of the Danish and English fleets.

  Next morning they boarded Christian’s flagship The Three Crowns to be entertained before the departure of that king. The flagship had been beautifully decorated, her three galleries gilded and the waist and half-deck hung with rich arras and costly ornaments.

  Between each course a toast was proposed, accompanied by the blaring of trumpets and the firing of cannon until Anne’s head ached. The Danish admiral had proposed the first toast, promising continued friendship to his English counterpart, this had been seconded by the English block-houses, supported by the Danish Vice-Admiral and echoed by six Danish ships, and with the quantities of wine imbibed with each speech, Anne could foresee the proceedings becoming most unseemly, not to say uproarious.

  “James, I am sure that the sentiments have been most nobly and lengthily expressed. I am mindful of the tide for I am not anxious to be grounded upon the mud banks!”

  “Dinna tak’ on so, Annie! Yon’s most amicable sentiments and I would no’ insult Christian by terminating them, it would be maist ungracious!”

  Anne looked displeased and directed a venomous glance in the direction of young Robert Carr—James’ current favourite—whom she considered to be the most obnoxious of all his creatures and who had had the temerity to smirk at this rebuke.

  Christian himself had by this time decided that enough was enough and proceeded to bestow his parting gifts upon his sister and her family. James received a rapier and hanger worth £7,000, Anne was bestowed with a portrait of her brother set in diamonds, all the English courtiers were presented with gold chains and jewels which had cost the Danish treasury £15,000, but it was his nephew, Prince Henry-Frederick, for whom Christian had developed a great affection, who received the richest gift—nothing less than Christian’s finest Man of War complete with crew, provisions and armaments! The Prince was completely overawed and demanded to be shown over his newly acquired treasure.

  James was far from overjoyed. “It’s no’ proper, Annie! What’s the laddie t’ do wi’ yon ship? It’s no’ proper at all!” he muttered to Anne.

  She, too, was not entirely in agreement with Christian’s generosity, mentally thinking of all manner of disasters and dangers that would be forthcoming should the Prince be allowed to command the vessel in person. She once again reminded both her husband and her brother of the tide and to Henry-Frederick’s disappointment, King Christian promptly decided that the time had come to astound his family with the delights of his wonderfully contrived firework display, which served to divert the Prince’s attention from his thwarted purpose, although the fact that the fireworks were let off in brilliant sunshine detracted from their magnificence.

  The display being over, the Royal family took a fond farewell of their Danish kinsman and being prompted by the Lord Admiral that the tide had already turned, they disembarked and journeyed to Windsor to finish the summer and recover from the Danish visit.

  * * *

  Anne had long coveted Theobalds, the architectural wonder of England built by Lord Burleigh and his son. It was a magnificent mansion set amongst verdant parklands and meadows, a quadrangle of 110 feet square and where, on the south side, Robert Cecil had set aside apartments especially for her. In May, 1607, she finally persuaded him to exchange it for Hatfield House and took possession on the 22nd of that month, exclaiming in delighted satisfaction over its many beautiful rooms and the long gallery—12 feet in length—which stretched the whole length of the west side of the house.

  Her moments of happiness were shattered by the news of the death of the three-year-old Princess Mary who died of a fever at Stanwell whilst under the care of Lord and Lady Knevet. News of the child’s death was sent to James who was on progress in the west country and Anne prepared once more to bury a dearly loved child. She mourned little Mary deeply, for after the death of little Sophia she had realised that she would bear no more children.

  The Princess was interred in Westminster Abbey in the vault of her great-aunt Elizabeth Tudor and James ordered a tomb to be erected for her and her sister near that of Elizabeth where the effigies of the two sisters were carved in stone for posterity clad in tiny farthingales, tight bodices and lace caps and these pathetic little monuments never failed to move Anne whenever she visited the Abbey.

  She was now thirty-two and by the standards of her day middle-aged. James, too, was in his middle years and had recently begun to be afflicted by gout which Anne attributed to his taste for wine and rich food, but as she watched the celebrations that occurred annually to mark the downfall of the Gunpowder Plot conspirators she wondered if there would ever be peace between her subjects of differing religions and nationalities.

  Eight

  May, 1610, produced the proudest moment in Anne’s life for in that month Prince Henry-Frederick, a charming and universally popular boy of sixteen, was created Prince of Wales.

  As she stood with James, the Princess Elizabeth and Prince Charles in the gallery of the old palace of Westminster, awaiting the arrival of her son from Richmond, she felt that her years of patiently having to suffer the indignity of her husband’s favourites had not been completely in vain. The Thames was crowded that mild, sunny May morning for it seemed as though every person who either owned or knew someone who owned a boat was out to greet the Prince. At last his gaily decorated barge with the Royal Standard floating from its bows came into sight, accompanied by the barges of the Lord Mayor and aldermen and the representatives of the City Guilds. The Prince’s barge tied up at the Queen’s Bridge to the joyful cheers of the crowd and Anne greeted him with tears in her eyes.

  “Henry, I am so proud of you this day! See how they cheer you! Will he not make the most splendid monarch?” she cried, quite forgetting that James had first to die before that honour would be bestowed upon his son.

  James had obviously thought of this and muttered peevishly, “Aye, folk are vera vociferous!” for he had always been a little envious of his son’s popularity and the affection that Anne lavished upon Henry.

  “After the ceremony I have devised the most splendid entert
ainments! All the costumes and scenery have been most carefully planned by Master Inigo Jones.”

  “And a deal o’ siller it hae cost too!” James interrupted, having resigned himself to the fact that his wife’s extravagance and love of play-acting would never be curtailed.

  The following day, the newly created Prince of Wales, his father and the entire court were treated to the most lavish and spectacular of all Anne’s masques yet to be performed. Inigo Jones had surpassed himself for the scenery and costumes were nothing short of exquisite! The Queen, the Princess Elizabeth, Prince Charles and all the ladies of the Queen’s household were to take part and as the Prince seated himself next to his father upon the dais, James thought it expedient to warn him of what could be expected.

  “I hope patience is one o’ your virtues, Henry, for this cavortin’ may tak’ some time afore it is ower!”

  “I feel sure I shall enjoy it, my Lady Mother’s masques are famed.”

  “Aye, but what I’m trying to say, laddie, is that they can be a wean bit boring, ye ken me?”

  Henry nodded with an impish grin. “Not all of them, so I am told. The masque of ‘Sheba’ was far from boring according to some authorities, in fact I hear it was very amusing!”

  James chuckled. “Yon was a fine stramash! Your Uncle Christian took it in good part though! There’s no’ many a King who would tak’ kindly to being covered wi’ sweetmeats, but your mother took no part in it, she was no’ well enough, although I hae ma doubts as t’ whether it would o’ been so amusing had she taken charge! Annie is fair taken wi’ this mummery, so we’ll say no more on the matter, eh, laddie?”

  “Look, Sire, I think it is about to commence!”