The Danish Queen

by Lynda M Andrews

  Christian had heard alarming reports of his sister’s ill health after Prince Henry’s death and he had also heard the rumours of poison, but when he had become acquainted with the insults that Anne had received from the Rochester faction, he had decided that a visit was called for. Upon arrival he found the Earl of Northampton (the most vindictive of the faction) recently deceased and Carr himself declining in royal favour, so he prudently decided that his mere presence was enough without having to resort to verbal complaints.

  * * *

  A new favourite was in the ascendency. George Villiers, a quiet English youth whose resemblance to the marble head of St. Stephen (one of the Italian marbles at Whitehall palace) had served to bring him to the attention of the King. Villiers was quite unlike James’ previous favourites and found favour in the eyes of the Queen also for he treated her with every respect and never attempted to flaunt his position.

  As his influence grew, Anne came to an agreement with George Villiers. She sent for him one day in August, to attend her in what had been the Cardinal’s closet in the days when Wolsey had owned Hampton Court. It was a fairly small room, the ceiling painted and gilded with Tudor roses and the feathers of the Prince of Wales, its walls panelled in linen fold above which was a frieze depicting the Last Supper.

  Anne stood looking out of the bay window which overlooked the Clock Court when the new favourite entered.

  “Your Majesty requested me to wait upon you.”

  Anne turned. He was indeed a handsome young man but he lacked the arrogance of Carr and his expression was reserved and his manner respectful.

  She smiled. “Yes, I would have a word with you in private.”

  “If I can be of assistance to Your Majesty in any sphere whatsoever, I beg of you…”

  Anne held up her hand. “Pray be seated, I do not wish to stand upon ceremony. You have found… favour in the King’s eyes, I would ask you to use your influence… wisely.”

  Villiers’ eyes were understanding and she was prompted to continue. “His Majesty is not always mindful of his… dignity, especially when he is, shall we say… enamoured of certain persons.” Anne was becoming more uncomfortable, finding it hard to put into words what she required of Villiers. James was apt to make a complete spectacle of himself at times but she could not directly ask this young man to restrain James’ less dignified and unkingly qualities. She twisted her hands together in her lap.

  “Madam, pray do not continue. I fully comprehend your meaning, there is no need for you to place yourself in this predicament. His Majesty at times is apt to forget that he is ‘God’s Anointed’, you wish me to use my influence to subdue his… er… exuberance?”

  “That is just what I desire. You are a most perceptive and thoughtful young man, George. I never thought I should utter these words… but you have my confidence and should you ever need it—my support.”

  Villiers rose and bent low over her hand. “Madam, that is indeed the supreme compliment and one for which I shall ever be grateful!” He backed slowly from the room and she smiled complacently to herself. Yes, George Villiers would go far and he was infinitely preferable to Carr!

  To her delight the very next month, September, Robert Carr and Frances Howard were arrested for the murder of Thomas Overbury. Slowly and systematically Overbury had been poisoned until he had finally died in 1613, his body disfigured and covered with sores and ulcers.

  The court was horrified and Sir Gervase Elwes, Lieutenant of the Tower, with many of his servants and accomplices were imprisoned in their own dungeons. Lengthy trials now took place for witchcraft and murder and Elwes was hanged and his accomplices burned and mutilated.

  To Anne’s disgust Lady Frances was spared although she admitted her guilt and James would hear no word of complaint against his former favourite who loudly declared his innocence.

  * * *

  In March, 1614, James set out on his first visit to Scotland since he had become King of both countries in 1603. He had long intended to make this journey but circumstances had prevented it. Anne accompanied him as far as Ware, at which point she said her farewells before returning to Greenwich.

  “Hae ye no’ a hankerin’ t’ see Scotland?” James enquired.

  “I have, Scotland has been the scene of some of the most cherished moments in my life. Elizabeth and Charles were born there and so, too, was my dear… Henry.” Anne could never think of her son without a small lump constricting her throat.

  “No doubt ma faithful subjects will be owerjoyed t’ see me, for I hae been away from them for too lang!”

  “They seem to be managing quite well!” Anne remarked unkindly, farewells always upset her and made her irritable.

  “I dare say, though yon Kirk are factious but as that is nothing new, I’ll no’ worry ma head ower it!”

  “You do not fear that they have been plotting some dark deed while you have been away? As you once told me, the Scots are a wild race! Have a care…”

  “Och, woman! They’ll be loud in their praises and acclaim o’ Jamie Stuart!” James retorted with extreme confidence.

  “Charles is so young and so delicate, should anything happen to you, I shudder to think of the struggle for power that would ensue! We should return to the old, violent days!”

  “I’m no’ daid yet, Annie!” James cried indignantly. “Hae ye been listening to the auld gossips again?”

  “No!”

  “Well, off wi’ ye t’ Greenwich! I’ll be back, safe an’ sound afore ye hae time t’ miss me!”

  For the second time in her married life she waved goodbye to her husband as he commenced what she considered to be a dangerous journey. As she watched him ride off she thought back to their parting in the High Street at Edinburgh in 1603, and how afraid she had been for him then. Years had elapsed since that day; years in which she had suffered grief and indignity at his hands and she wondered whether in truth she held James in any affection now, or was he just a habit she had grown accustomed to? She did fear for Charles who was a quiet, delicate child, so unlike his robust cheerful brother. But she smiled as she thought that Charles Stuart had a determination to match that of his odd sire. She well remembered the incident when as a very young child he had refused to take his medicine from his nurse. No amount of coaxing or threatening could persuade him to swallow the dose and finally the distraught nurse had appealed to her, but her youngest child had remained stubborn. She had eventually lost her temper and had scolded him sharply and the nurse had become quite frantic, crying, “Madam, there is danger that he will die if he does not take the dose!” She could still remember her exasperated reply. “Nonsense!” she had stated firmly. “He will live to plague three kingdoms by his wilfulness!”

  Thinking now upon her words she smiled at first and then realised that those words—spoken before her dear Henry had died—were prophetic, as though in her heart she had always known that Henry would not live to succeed his father whereas Charles would! She shuddered for she was a firm believer in premonitions and the like and now her words took on a sinister meaning. If Charles persisted in his stubborn ways, would evil befall him? She was never to know that her youngest son would die on the scaffold, executed by his own subjects—his country torn apart by civil war.

  James arrived in Edinburgh in May to profuse Latin orations and academic disputations which he thoroughly appreciated but which horrified the Englishmen who had accompanied him for they had expected to be greeted with great pomp and ceremony.

  “It’s no’ the way o’ things here,” he explained to his shocked courtiers, “but it’s as grand a welcome as any I’ve had in England. Aye, it’s many a lang year since I’ve heard such fine orations!”

  He immediately set about a task dear to his heart, the establishment of Parish schools and Registers—institutions he considered to be most important for the well being of the country. The English nobles continued to murmur about the lack of pageantry and in return their flamboyant and courtly gestures, their glitte
ring and fashionable mode of dress and love of such trifles made the King’s Scottish subjects inclined to agree with their Kirk prelates who thundered against the Church of England, declaring that Englishmen worshipped idols!

  Sir Francis Bacon, Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, had been left in charge of affairs in England for James did not trust Anne’s judgement. After some initial annoyance at not being appointed Regent Anne resigned herself to the fact for she was on amicable terms with Sir Francis and realised that he was an astute statesman, more capable of handling affairs than herself, although this fact she refused to admit to anyone. However, the King had only been absent for a week when complaints were lodged against Bacon. He had taken possession of the King’s own lodgings and was giving audiences in the banqueting hall and if any of his fellow members of the Privy Council became too familiar he was not averse to bidding them to know their distance!

  Master Secretary Winwood was so incensed by Bacon’s behaviour that he left court and refused to return, writing to James of his ill treatment.

  “Your Majesty, I implore you to make haste back for your seat is already usurped and I verily believe Bacon fancies himself King!”

  Anne sent for Bacon.

  “Sir Francis, pray what is all this ill-feeling between yourself and Secretary Winwood? Why can you not agree?”

  “Madam, I do not know, except perhaps that it be that he is very proud and so am I!” he answered with truthful simplicity.

  “Well at least you are honest! His Majesty has quite enough to worry about in Scotland without being pestered about complaints and quarrels here!”

  “His Majesty invested me with the power and authority, Madam. Secretary Winwood, as I have said, is a proud man and takes that fact ill!”

  Anne sighed. “Then there is no cause for it… he must stay absent until he swallows his pride.”

  Bacon bowed. “Thank you, Madam. Your wisdom is truly creditable.”

  “I am too old to be won by flattery, Sir Francis, besides we both know that if I possessed one grain of your wisdom and judgement, James would not have hesitated to have left me as Regent!”

  Bacon prudently chose to remain silent.

  “I have received a letter from His Majesty,” she continued.

  “He is well, I trust?”

  “Yes, he has been well received and has nearly completed those tasks he set out to accomplish, he will return early in September, by which time we will all be most happy to have him back amongst us, I am sure you will agree?”

  “My sentiments entirely, Madam,” Bacon replied guardedly.

  When James returned it was to find Anne ill and he immediately journeyed to Oatlands where she had retired, for the benefit of her health, upon the advice of her physicians. She felt listless and queasy and some days it was only with a great effort that she rose from her bed, and when she did rise, waves of dizziness swept over her and she was forced to rest until they had passed.

  She had heard of James’ arrival and had risen, been dressed and was sitting in the golden autumn sunlight, her legs covered with a rug.

  “Annie, ye should hae written t’ me that ye were ailing, I’d hae come sooner!” James greeted her.

  “There is no cause for you to alarm yourself, and besides you have troubles enough to attend to.”

  James drew up a chair close to hers. “It’s no’ serious?”

  She smiled. “No, just a passing malady.”

  “Good! Now I hear there has been a wean o’ bother whilst I hae been away between Bacon and Secretary Winwood! Stubborn, prideful limmers the twa o’ them!”

  “Sir Francis admitted as much to me when I summoned him to give an account of the reasons for their animosity.”

  “Did he now? He’s an honest man then, an’ they be hard t’ find! I’ll attend t’ the matter, I’ll hae no more bickering.”

  “Did you enjoy your visit?”

  “Oh, aye, folk were well pleased t’ see auld Jamie back again! There were some differences o’ opinion between ma subjects—as usual. Yon English thought I was no’ receivin’ fittin’ tribute an’ the Scots murmuring again’ the Englishmen, calling them idolators and sic like! I can thank Andra Melville for incitin’ that bit o’ nonsense!”

  Anne sighed wearily, her head had begun to ache and she felt weak and dizzy. “Nothing ever changes between them, James, does it?”

  “No, Annie, and I doubt that it ever will!” He winced as he shifted his position for he suffered increasingly from the gout. “Guid help our Charlie when his time comes! I hope he’ll be able t’ manage them all!”

  His reference to Prince Charles brought back the memory of the disturbing thoughts she had had about her son. “He is quiet and reserved, James, but he is strong-willed.”

  “Aye, fell wilful at times! Now, Annie, dinna start to fret ower Charlie, he’ll manage fine! What ails thee, Annie?” he cried, suddenly observing her pallor and the beads of sweat that stood out upon her forehead.

  “It will pass, a mere dizziness.”

  “Guidsakes! Ye’re no’ well, woman! Margaret! Katrine!” he called urgently.

  Anne’s two maids entered at his call.

  “Here, Meg, take your mistress t’ her bed and call the physician! How lang has she ailed?”

  “Nearly a month now, Your Majesty, but she would not hear of letting us inform you,” Katrine informed him, despite the pleading look Anne directed upon her.

  “So lang! Ye should hae told me, Annie!”

  “It will pass, James… it always does!” Anne maintained weakly.

  “No doubt I hae been tirin’ ye, and ye sat there enquirin’ politely about ma visit and worrying ower ma troubles and our Charlie! Tak’ her t’ her bed, I’ll away for I’ve no wish t’ wear her out, but I’ll be back, Annie!” he called.

  Ten

  She grew weaker with each passing month and when Christmas, 1617, came, she remained at Whitehall, too ill to remove to Greenwich for the festivities, but when the New Year of 1618 was ushered in, in true Scots tradition by James and his cronies, she began to make a little progress towards recovery.

  By spring she had recovered sufficiently to be able to make the journey to Denmark House, knowing that she would get little rest if she stayed at Whitehall for Shrovetide was kept with riotous revelry at that time.

  She had no sooner settled into her chambers than news arrived that James had been stricken seriously with gout in his knees.

  “I must go to him!” she cried when she heard the tidings.

  “But, Madam, you are scarce able to move!” Anka implored.

  “Anka, you think those creatures care what happens to him? Will they tend him, see that he is well nursed? No, they care for his position only and what they can wheedle from him. If… if anything happened to James the road to Richmond and Charles would be crowded! I must go to him!”

  Despite all the entreaties of her maids she insisted upon making the journey, arriving to find James in bed and his bedchamber full of cavorting Knights, trying to cheer their master by what appeared to be some sort of masque. James looked ill and tired, and ill though she was herself, she immediately took charge of the situation.

  “What is the meaning of this tomfoolery, Sir George?” she demanded of George Goring.

  “Madam, we are endeavouring to raise His Majesty’s spirits by our rendering of ‘The Tinker’, ‘Two Merry Milkmaids’ and such like pieces of witticism!”

  “You may consider it witty, I for one do not! The King is ill, man! Have you no consideration or delicacy of feeling? Out, all of you! You, Edward Zouch, and you, Thomas Badger, remove those ridiculous clothes and take yourselves off!”

  Considerably crestfallen, the makeshift players left.

  “Why did you not dismiss them? You should have rest, James, not all this noise and nonsense!”

  “I was on the point o’ doing just that, Annie, for I hae had a plenties o’ their daft capers!”

  He looked up at her thin, drawn face. He hardly r
ecognised her as the blooming, bright eyed woman he had known. “Ye should no’ hae come, Annie. Ye dinna look so pert yoursel’.”

  She took his hand. “Did you expect me to leave you to the mercy of ‘yon fool limmers’?” she replied.

  James managed a smile. “We are a fine pair, eh, Annie! We maun be gettin’ auld!”

  “Whilst travelling from Whitehall I devised a plan which should prove beneficial to us both. We shall go to Theobalds. The air is pure and we both have need of solitude. Do you think you could manage the journey?”

  James looked uncertain for his legs were badly swollen and he felt as though all the fiends of hell were sawing upon his kneecaps with red hot knives. “I dinna feel well enough a’ present. The journey ower the frozen roads does no’ bear thinking on!”

  Anne was concerned. “You will get little rest and comfort here—the place is a madhouse!”

  James, being in acute pain, was in no mood for arguments. “I canna travel! Och, Annie, I dinna mean to be sharp wi’ ye an’ yoursel’ ailing! Perhaps by the end o’ the week I maun feel up to moving to Theobalds!” he finished, seeing the tears of weakness and wounded feelings spring to her eyes.

  “I know what effort it has cost ye to come an’ I appreciate your concern, but I could no’ bear it, Annie, no’ just yet!”

  She nodded. “I understand. Shall I come to see you again later, in a couple of days perhaps?”

  “Only if ye feel well enough! I’ll no’ hae ye exertin’ yoursel’ on account o’ me an’ ma gout!”

  “We shall leave the decision until then. My health permitting I shall return on Friday. I pray you, James, insist upon quiet! Do not let those madcaps plague you with their nonsense!”

  “I should no’ think they will return, ye sent them off wi’ a flea in their lugs!”

  With an effort she rose and then bent and kissed his cheek. “Goodbye, James, I hope when I return I find you much recovered.”

  “I hope so too!” came the convincing reply from the bed.