“He must recover! He must!” Anne cried to the quietly sorrowing Jeanne Lennox.
“I pray he does! He is the fairest jewel in the realm!”
“‘England’s treasure’,” Anne murmured and then with a strangled cry as she remembered the death of that other boy who had been called England’s Treasure—Edward Tudor—she cried, “Oh! No! Jeanne, no!”
“Sir Walter’s potion has already started to take effect, so the physicians say, Madam. He must recover!” Jeanne tried to reassure her.
“Dear God, I pray you spare me my son!”
“Have faith, he has youth on his side.”
“See how they love him, we do not pray alone! Surely God will not deny the requests of so many?” Lady Arundel said looking out at the assembled, but now almost silent, crowd outside.
A few minutes before midnight there was a knock upon the door and Anne spun nervously around. “Enter!” she cried.
It was Ludovick Stuart.
Jeanne caught her breath as she saw the desolate look upon her husband’s face, but Anne had crossed the room in a few running steps.
“Vicky! What news? Tell me quickly… the potion.”
Ludovick took both her hands and looked down at her with compassion, tears sparkling in his eyes. “Anne, I’m afraid the potion could not help him. He… he died half an hour ago, it has taken me until now to get through the crowds. I’m sorry, Anne… so sorry. I, too, loved him.”
She backed away from him, shock and wild despair in her eyes, one hand pressed to her mouth as the realisation of Ludovick’s words dawned upon her. “No! No! Vicky! They told me he was recovering… he cannot… No! Not my Henry!”
“Quick, Vicky! Help me!” Jeanne cried, struggling with Anne’s inert form.
They carried her to her bedchamber and laid her upon the bed while Margaret Vintner held singed feathers beneath her nose. Slowly she opened her eyes. Ludovick’s words came back to her and she sobbed brokenly. He was dead, the son she had loved so much and for whom she would have willingly given her own life! He had made life bearable for her, but now he was gone!
“My son, my darling Henry! Why? Oh, why has God taken him from me?” she sobbed.
They tried in vain to comfort her and finally Ludovick left to inform James of the Queen’s extreme grief.
Quite suddenly into her mind came the words of Raleigh’s note. “It shall cure all ills, except poison.” She jumped up from the bed, anger mingled with her grief. “He was poisoned! Jeanne, he was poisoned!”
Her ladies looked at her fearfully, thinking she had lost her wits.
“Raleigh said his potion would cure everything, except poison!” She had no trouble in remembering that it was Overbury who had always hated her son. “Thomas Overbury!” she spat.
She raged hysterically against Overbury and Robert Carr until at length James appeared, lines of grief etched upon his face, his dark eyes filled with sorrow.
Ludovick Stuart signed for everyone to leave and they were left alone.
“Annie, this night we hae lost our boy. Vicky has told me o’ your grief… I, too… ma heart is heavy wi’ his loss!”
She clung to him, sobbing. “James, did he suffer?”
“No’ greatly, lassie,” he lied. “I stayed wi’ him, though yon doctors were again’ it. ’Tis a tragedy, he was a bonnie lad!”
Anne’s sobs gained strength.
“Come, lassie, we maun try t’ think o’ it as a blessing, ye would no’ hae wished him to suffer, would ye? He has received his crown—a heavenly crown—far greater than any earthly one.”
Gently he led her to a chair and passed her his lace kerchief. “Dry your eyes, Annie, we still hae our Charlie.”
She nodded. “Seven children I have borne you, James, four I have buried and now… God is cruel!”
“Nay, Annie, ye maun think like that, ’tis blasphemous! He has His reasons, though we dinna ken them.”
“I cannot help it! My first born… my pride and joy… my Henry!” Her shoulders shook as a fresh spasm of sobbing overtook her.
“Hush, lassie, hush!”
“The potion I requested of Raleigh would have worked, but he was poisoned, James. He was poisoned!”
James stared at her in astonishment. “He was no’ poisoned!” he cried thinking her demented, for he had watched his son die of a lung fever.
Her face contorted. “It was that fiend Overbury, no doubt aided by his master! Robert Carr hated Henry for Henry was everything that he was not!”
James placed a hand on her shoulder. “Annie, ye canna say things like that about Robbie Carr wi’out proof!”
She flung off his hand and turned on him, her grief blinding her to reason. “I can and I will! You will hear no word said against him even when he destroys your own son! You unnatural… vile… get out of here!”
James was also growing angry for his son’s death had grieved him deeply but he refused to believe her accusations against his favourite. “Dinna tak’ that tone wi’ me! Ye’ll no slander Robbie Carr, ye hear me?” he shouted.
“You never cared for Henry… or me! All you have ever cared about is James Stuart and those filthy… pimps!”
James’ face was purple and his eyes bulged. “I’ll no’ stay an’ be insulted by you, you are mad! Your grief has robbed ye o’ your senses! Dinna look t’ me for comfort for ye’ll get none!”
“I want nothing of you… nothing!” she screamed, throwing herself upon the bed weeping hysterically as James turned on his heel.
Nine
Three months after the death of Prince Henry, the marriage took place of the Princess Elizabeth and the Count Palatine. Anne was heavily swathed in black mourning and relations between herself and James were still icily cold. Only two of her seven children were left to her and now her only daughter was to leave her. Her spirits were low and she was very depressed and her health suffered in consequence and after Elizabeth’s departure to her new home, Anne remained immured in Denmark House with her ladies and her memories.
Her physicians, at their wits end to cure her depression, suggested that she take the waters at Bath and with some persuasion from Jeanne Lennox and Lady Arundel she finally agreed and set out in April, 1613.
To try to cheer her, Lord Knollys entertained her at Caversham House with Ben Jonson’s elegant masque of ‘The Fairies’, which did serve to lighten her spirits a little. From there she travelled to Bath and took the waters after which her health improved and she decided to extend her progress to the city of Bristol where she was met by the Mayor and corporation and presented with an embroidered purse containing 100 nobles.
She stayed with Sir John Young and the following day being Sunday, she attended a service in the cathedral. On Monday she was to be entertained with a great pageant. The streets of the city were lined with cheering people as she rode in her carriage drawn by four milk white steeds followed by her ladies riding white palfreys which formed a perfect background for their crimson and gold gowns. The Lord Mayor rode ahead of her upon his horse, his gold chain of office about his neck and Anne smiled and waved to the crowds, their obvious affection cheering her.
When they reached Canons Marsh she was conducted to a special stand decorated with flowers and twining boughs of ivy where a gilt chair, covered with purple figured velvet, had been set for her. To this throne she was conducted with great ceremony by the Mayor and the civic dignitaries and once seated the Mayor gave the signal for the pageant to commence.
Up the river Avon sailed a fine ship under full canvas and upon reaching the appointed place, her captain cast the anchor and dipped his ensigns to the Queen in homage. After this salute he weighed anchor and prepared to set sail when there appeared two galleys, rigged out to look like those of the Moors. These galleys proceeded to attack the Bristol ship; men swarmed up the side, their bodies blackened, their costumes that of the Infidels and Anne leaned forward to obtain a better view. A great deal of fighting appeared to be taking place, those Moors
who had managed to board and climb the mast to tear down her flag were pursued and flung bodily into the river, while a very realistic looking substitute for blood ran down the ship’s sides from her gunports.
Anne cheered and clapped with her ladies as all the Moors were finally captured and led to her feet.
“My Lord Mayor, a delightful pageant. Indeed these men are not only like Moors in apparel, but they resemble Moors in their countenance.”
The Mayor looked a little startled. “A mere subterfuge, Madam, I do assure you!”
Anne laughed. “Do not mistake me, sir, I am delighted with their sea fight for never have I seen one so naturally performed!”
On Tuesday Anne took her leave of the city of Bristol and it seemed as though the whole of the West Country had crowded into the town that day to bid her farewell. Never had she seen such crowds outside London, the cheers were deafening and the ordnance of the city boomed out over the cries of its citizens. The Mayor and Aldermen accompanied her to Lawford Gate and here she withdrew a diamond ring from her finger and presented it to Mr. Thomas Povey, the Mayor.
“I thank thee, sir, for a wondrous and entirely delightful visit to your fair city.”
“Your Majesty, your city is the fairer for having entertained your revered and beloved person.”
“My Lord Mayor, I never knew that I was a Queen until I came to Bristol!” Anne replied with deep sincerity, for the acclaim and affection of the citizens had warmed her and she commenced her journey to Bath, recovered considerably.
When she returned to court it was to find rumour and gossip once again rife. Sadly she realised that James would always be surrounded by intrigue and unrest, there was little peace to be found at court. Manners and morals had always been rather lax, but in his middle years and with her increasing infirmity, they had become little short of boorish and outrageous.
The first she heard of the impending scandal was when Lady Frances Howard, Countess of Essex, made an untimely and arrogant comment upon the virtues of Robert Carr in Anne’s hearing. Anne hated Carr with a searing, vengeful hatred and she had little liking for Frances Howard. Frances was a beautiful young woman with fair curling hair, deep blue eyes and a delicate complexion and full sensual lips, but Frances was also a hard, calculating woman who was prepared to be ruthless to obtain her desires, a characteristic prevalent in the entire Howard clan, thought Anne.
“I find my Lord Rochester a most amusing and delightful man,” Frances was stating in her clear, deceptively sweet voice.
“I would not have thought Viscount Rochester capable of showing any interest in anyone other than himself!” Anne replied cuttingly.
Frances’ smile was poisonously sweet. “Oh, Madam, I think you do him a great injustice. He is ever thoughtful of His Majesty and indeed yourself!”
Anne ignored her reference to James. “You surprise me, Lady Essex, indeed I cannot remember him ever being of service to me! Lady Arundel, perhaps your memory is better than mine, can you recall an instance when Robert Carr has bestowed upon me his delightful and amusing qualities?” Anne said, sarcastically using Frances’ own words.
Lady Arundel who was one of Anne’s most loyal supporters cast a derisive look upon her kinswoman. “No, Madam, I cannot recall any such instance.”
Frances was not to be put out of countenance. “Alas, I see that nothing I can say will serve to endear Your Majesty to my betrothed!”
Lady Arundel nearly choked and Anne’s head jerked up instantly.
“I beg your pardon, Lady Essex? Did we hear correctly? Your betrothed?”
Frances smiled sweetly, trying to appear coy. “Yes, Madam. I find that it is necessary for me to… divorce my husband, the matter is delicate… I am loath to speak upon the subject, I am sure you will understand. But Viscount Rochester has been the soul of discretion and compassion…” Frances dabbed at dry eyes with her kerchief while a silence so intense that it could almost be heard hung over the room.
“Indeed, Lady Essex, I had heard nothing of this matter, but no doubt His Majesty will soon enlighten me—if he knows of it!” Anne replied curtly, recovering herself. “As you are so distressed, you may retire!” she added.
Frances bobbed the sketchiest curtsey and left, leaving Anne to fume at the arrogance and duplicity of the girl. A truly insufferable pair, she thought, but how well matched!
With characteristic determination and some help from Carr, Frances was granted her divorce, an act which shocked many people, but far from finding her way clear to marry Robert Carr she was now incensed to find that Thomas Overbury raised violent objections to her forthcoming match. Frances Howard was not a woman to be deterred by such trivialities and she discussed the solution to the problem with Carr in the Pond Garden at Hampton Court, where they could talk without being overheard.
They wandered in silence between the formal beds of flowers interspersed with small, circular lily ponds and neatly trimmed bushes of yew, until they reached what was called Queen Anne’s bower—an alley of wych elms planted by King Henry VIII for Anne Boleyn. Here Frances halted and seated herself upon a rustic bench in the shade of the trees. Carr sat beside her.
“I am at a loss to understand Thomas’s behaviour, it is so unreasonable…” he began.
Frances looked at the handsome, rather effeminate features of her lover with ill disguised impatience and contempt. “Then you must be a fool! It is plain for all to see… he is jealous! He hates me and seeks to wrack his spite upon me by this act of… vindictiveness!”
“Perhaps if I were to speak to the King.”
“Your position with the King weakens daily, or had you not noticed, my love?”
“Then what have you in mind, we have not come here simply to admire the scenery?” Carr asked, gazing at Frances with admiration. He was infatuated with her and recognised that they were drawn together by certain mutual characteristics. They were both young and sensual in the extreme, driven by consuming ambition and a ruthless quest for power. Together they could achieve great things!
“I have given this matter a great deal of thought, Rob, there is but one solution. You must use your influence to have Overbury thrown into the Tower! You can achieve it… hear me out!” she cried, raising a delicate white hand to silence his protests. “It will not be hard, you will think of something!”
“What then, he can still make his objections heard, his pen spits poison!”
Frances smiled up at him with that innocent, sweet smile which belied the wickedness of her warped mind. “Dear Rob, our minds work in harness! You have taken the very word from my mouth!” She reached over and kissed him passionately, the extreme decollete of her lace-trimmed bodice revealing almost entirely her firm white breasts. “Poison!” she breathed softly, whilst holding his eyes with her slumberous gaze.
He drew away from her as though he had been stung. “Poison!” he cried.
“Be quiet! Do you wish the whole palace to hear you?”
“Frances…”
“I will not be thwarted! It shall be done with care… no one shall suspect! I am not without friends within the Tower, the dose shall be small, administered over a period of time, thereby giving the illusion that he died from a recurrent disease.”
Carr turned away from her. “I want no part of it… I do not wish to hear of it…”
Frances smiled. Men were so squeamish at times. “Then you shall hear nothing, leave the matter to me!”
* * *
Unknown to Anne, her brother King Christian arrived in Yarmouth on 19th July, accompanied by his Lord Admiral and Lord Chancellor. The small party travelled incognito by post horse through Ipswich and arrived in Aldgate where he hired a hackney coach and arrived at Denmark House where Anne was taking supper alone in the gallery.
Christian mingled with the courtiers waiting in her presence chamber but was recognised by Cardel, a dancing master, who slipped away to inform his mistress who refused to believe him.
“Have you been drinking, Master
Cardel? My brother is in Denmark!”
“No. Madam! He is here, in the ante-chamber, I have seen him with my own eyes and I remember him well from his previous visit!”
“I suggest you go to your chamber and lie down. Do you feel ill?”
Cardel threw up his hands in Gallic despair but his attention was diverted by Christian himself who had quietly entered the gallery. Christian pressed a finger to his lips and crept up behind Anne’s chair.
“Are you sure you are quite well? You look most… peculiar!” Anne was saying.
Without warning her brother turned her chair around, threw his arms about her and kissed her.
“Christian! Christian! It is you! I thought Cardel… What a wonderful surprise! When did you arrive?” she cried breathlessly.
“Just this very minute! I wanted to surprise you! Anna, it is so long since I have seen you!”
Anne removed a diamond and ruby brooch from her bodice and gave it to Cardel. “Pray forgive me for not believing you! Here, take this, for it was you who brought me the tidings!”
Cardel, overjoyed at his good fortune, thanked her profusely and retired.
“I must send word to James, he is on progress in Nottinghamshire! I am so surprised… so happy!”
Christian laughed. “I hear that all has not been well for you, Anna. Poor Henry-Frederick!” He shook his head for the Prince had been a great favourite. “So I have come to cheer you up.”
“Nothing could have cheered me more, Christian… I feel so much better already!”
James returned in record time from Nottinghamshire, arriving the following Sunday, and for the first time since her son’s death, Anne was happy. All manner of diversions she attended in company with her brother, her husband and her son Charles. Hawking, hunting, bear-baiting and tilting by day and masques, balls and buffets by night.
Christian treated his family to a firework display in the grounds of Denmark House and this time the display was a wonder to behold for it was held in the evening.
The Danish Queen Page 13