Just Flesh and Blood

by Caro, Jane;

  Once, at the height of my powers, none dared to treat me with so little respect. It seems everything changes – even that.

  ‘I have just arrested your Portuguese doctor, Your Majesty!’ Essex burst through the door unannounced, his face flushed with excitement. It took me a moment to work out who he was referring to. I had many doctors, some of them were foreign but I had never enquired about their country of origin. ‘Dr Lopez?’

  ‘Aye, Your Grace.’

  ‘On what charge?’

  ‘Treason. I discovered the plot while I was investi-gating the Portuguese traitors who surround the Prior of Crato and who are selling secrets to the Spaniards.’

  Essex had been obsessed with the Portuguese ever since his disastrous escapade when he lost so many good men in Lisbon. Now that he had access to Walsingham’s network of spies, through the Bacon brothers, he could indulge his desire for revenge to the full. It seemed he had wasted no time.

  ‘God’s death! That man has caused me almost as much grief as the Queen of Scots ever did. How I wish I had not made Antonio welcome in my kingdom!’

  ‘I have found no evidence directly against the Portuguese pretender, but he is in need of funds and that always makes a man vulnerable to temptation.’

  ‘Tell Antonio to go to France. Let him make mischief there. I have had my fill of him.’

  ‘Indeed, but it was as well we investigated Antonio’s household, or I would never have discovered a traitor with such intimate access to your person.’

  ‘What exactly is Lopez accused of?’

  ‘He was plotting to poison you, Your Majesty.’

  ‘But why? To what end? My demise would gain him nothing. Rather the opposite.’

  ‘Who knows why Jews do as they do? Betrayal comes as naturally to their race as breathing.’

  ‘Dr Lopez is a good Protestant. I have often seen him in church.’

  ‘Outwardly only. In private he is a Jew.’

  ‘As long as he obeys the law, I have no interest in what he believes in private. And he is a good doctor. He has eased my pain on many an occasion.’

  ‘All the better to win your trust. But he could not outwit me.’

  I was annoyed at his assumption of superior discernment, but I let the flash of irritation pass. Instead I spoke to Essex gently, soothingly. I hoped to dissuade him from persecuting the poor doctor. I had no doubt that Essex was motivated by a desire for revenge in return for his own humiliation in Lisbon at the hands of the doctor’s countrymen.

  ‘You do not have to prove anything to me. I know you have only my welfare at heart and that any errors you may have made in the past sprang from only the best intentions. You were young and inexperienced, and the Portuguese adventure is not merely forgiven but forgotten. Why bring it to the fore again?’

  The earl’s expression changed in an instant. His face took on a surly, mulish quality and his eyes narrowed to slits. ‘This has nothing to do with that, and it is cruel of you to think so. I have found evidence of treachery, just as Walsingham used to. It is my duty to act accordingly just as it was his.’

  I had done my best to dissuade him from his crusade against my Jewish doctor, but if Essex had evidence of treachery, who was I to say nay? I knew only too well that plots against my life sprang up as thickly as weeds and in the most unlikely places. I remained suspicious, however. I was worried that poor Lopez was too convenient a scapegoat. I could see how well it suited the earl’s purposes to distract from his recent military failure by winning glory as the man who foiled treason. But I did not want to confront Essex. His purpose was to amuse me and make my life easier, not more difficult. I decided I would wait to see how events unfolded.

  Minutes after Essex had departed, to boast of his triumph no doubt, Robert Cecil stepped forward and indicated that he wished to speak to me in private.

  ‘There is no evidence against Dr Lopez, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Why would Essex arrest a man against whom there is no evidence?’

  ‘He has already gained much praise by doing just that. Lopez is a foreigner and a Jew, and the people love to have their prejudices against such outsiders confirmed. And now that Antonio is penniless and has no longer any hope of gaining the Portuguese throne, Lopez has no powerful friends. He is an easy target.’

  ‘It seems we have the same concern. It troubles me that the Earl of Essex would so easily sacrifice an innocent man.’

  ‘The earl is ruthless in your service.’

  ‘Do you hate him so very much?’

  Now it was Cecil’s turn to flush. He stood in silence for a moment or two, the better to regain his composure. ‘I do not hate him. I merely have respect for evidence and the law. I am not the one filled with hate.’

  I looked at Robert Cecil and thought I understood. Unlike Essex, he was a man who had to overcome prejudice. His misshapen body not only made him the butt of jokes and cruel remarks; it also made him an object of fear and suspicion. Despite his ever-increasing power, he was a lonely figure around my court, especially when his father was absent – as he was increasingly often. Those with an ugly exterior are often thought to be ugly all the way through, just as outward beauty is believed to indicate inner virtue. I have lived long enough to see the lie in both.

  Despite his parentage, Robert Cecil was an outsider, like poor Lopez, and being an outsider had given him a greater understanding of others who survive on the fringes. As a woman, a virgin and a queen, I also knew what it was to be isolated.

  ‘There is to be a banquet tonight, Mary. What should I wear?’ I was excited. Our life in the royal nursery was predictable and humdrum. I was desperate for something different and for some attention.

  ‘Don’t be foolish, we are not invited.’

  ‘But I have not seen my father for such a long time.’

  ‘No longer than me. We have both been ignored in this out-of-the-way wing of the palace.’ My sister sighed and put her embroidery to one side. She rubbed her face hard with both her hands, leaving her skin and eyes quite red. Never pretty, she now looked plain and sad.

  But I was only five years old while my half-sister, Mary, was seventeen, and it was my own disappointment that interested me. Mary continued to try and explain, indifferent to my mulish expression. ‘The king is not interested in us since our brother Edward was born, and we will simply have to entertain ourselves.’

  I pouted and stamped my feet. ‘What’s so special about Edward, anyway? He’s just a baby and never does anything interesting but mewl and puke!’

  ‘Hush, child, he is a boy, a prince, the heir to the throne – and we are just girls.’

  ‘And not even princesses anymore! I hate Edward!’ I was whipped for speaking so violently, as no doubt I deserved to be, but I felt my isolation at least as much as my bruises.

  Essex, pampered from birth, adored and admired by all who saw him, had no such understanding of the insecurities of those who do not belong. Instead he both shared the general prejudice and, it now seemed, was prepared to exploit it for his own purposes.

  ‘Are you saying that the Earl of Essex hates Dr Lopez because he is of the Hebrew faith?’

  ‘Many good Christians feel the same, Your Grace.’

  ‘But you do not?’

  ‘I prefer to judge a man on his merits.’

  ‘Maybe it is his Portuguese nationality that inflames the earl?’

  ‘Or perhaps a combination of both. I cannot tell another man’s motivations. All I know is that there is no evidence against the poor doctor.’

  I turned to my attendant. ‘Fetch and tell him to come here.’

  Within moments the most popular man in my kingdom was back in my privy chamber, but the smile died on his face when he saw who else was in the room. I took two steps towards him and leant forward before I spoke.

  ‘Cecil says there is no evidence agai
nst the doctor.’

  ‘Nonsense. He has been plotting against you for some time.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘I have my sources, as you well know. They are the same informants that my father-in-law trusted implicitly. Why would we begin to doubt them now?’

  ‘Do you have any documents? Letters? Any statements that can be sworn by witnesses?’

  ‘I am sure they will be found in time.’

  ‘In other words, you do not. Men like Lopez are vulnerable to malicious accusations, my lord, as I am sure your predecessor knew only too well. You need to tread carefully and gather solid evidence before any action can be taken against a man who may well be innocent. The trouble with persecuting an innocent man is not simply the injustice that is done. It means the real traitor goes undetected.’

  I thought I had plucked the unfortunate Israelite from out of danger’s way, but Essex was not so easily thwarted.

  ‘Dr Lopez has confessed to his crime.’

  It was some days after our initial interview about the doctor and Essex was once again standing in front of my writing table. I was caught at a disadvantage and I knew it. A wisp of grey hair had escaped from under my wig. I knew he would notice. I knew that it pleased him to see signs of weakness in others.

  I looked up from my inky labours and tried to tuck the wisp of hair away. I failed.

  ‘He has admitted that he plotted to poison you, and so has been condemned to death.’

  ‘I say again, my lord, to what end? Who did he work for? Was he doing the bidding of Philip of Spain?’

  ‘Yes, that is it precisely and the Jew was being paid handsomely for his treachery – and in gold, not the mere thirty pieces of silver that satisfied Judas Iscariot.’

  ‘You have proved your point, it seems.’

  ‘My only point, Your Grace, was to protect you.’

  Poor Dr Lopez. There is no doubt it can be very dangerous to get too close to power.

  Essex was loved by the people and he gloried in their admiration. It was hard for me to blame him for that. I know only too well how heady such attention can be. However, what is right and proper for a monarch can be dangerous for one of her subjects. Essex had many talents and much about him that was endearing. He could not hide his feelings. His face displayed what was in his heart. He had the spontaneity of a spoilt and adored child – a child who has not yet learnt to be wary of the world. His mother, my second cousin (and erstwhile romantic rival), Lettice Knollys, had adored her only surviving son and he had grown up secure in her constant good opinion. He also grew up unable to cope with any correction or criticism. Just as praise and triumph lit his face up instantaneously, so any thwarting of his will, any hint of disapproval, brought a thunderous scowl. At first, I enjoyed his company and, like his mother (and his grandmother), I indulged his childishness. Perhaps because I had controlled my feelings so rigidly for such a long time, his spontaneity warmed something inside me that I had felt was long dead.

  But, as is so often the case, my obvious fondness for Essex not only increased his own opinion of himself, it made him enemies. They waited in the shadows until they saw an opportunity. They did not have to wait for long.

  I find it makes me uncomfortable to relive my experiences with the Earl of Essex, unlike the pleasure I feel when I remember his stepfather. My unease brings my mind skittering out of the past and back into the gloomy chamber of the present.

  It is still dark outside and the ranks of the courtiers awaiting my demise have thinned. Some are weary. Some are hungry. No doubt some are bored. I think that I may be drifting in and out of consciousness, for sometimes I cannot quite distinguish memory from the here and now. I feel as if I am actually travelling in time, reliving my life, returning to ghosts from the past who seem to grow more substantial the closer I get to joining their spectral company.

  I am in a strange grey place, between this world and the next. The living, breathing human beings in this room feel ghostly and insubstantial. Yet, as I drift in and out, it seems to me as if Essex still lives. I can see his quicksilver face, as vivid as ever it was in life. For a moment, I think I can see him among those gathered in the corner of the chamber and I wonder if I am seeing ghosts. Robert Cecil is no ghost and I can see he is still seated upon a stool, his nose buried in state papers. He has much to do, I’ll warrant, as he shepherds my kingdom (is it still my kingdom?) from one monarch to the next. It hurts me that he is all business and no grief.

  Perhaps it was Robert’s face that reminded me of Essex, although their features could not have been more different. Despite their antipathy, wherever one of them went the other was sure to follow.

  At first it was Essex who dominated their rivalry. With his feats of bravery, he left the studious Cecil in his wake.

  ‘I leapt from the rigging, Your Grace, and ran the Spaniard through!’ Essex jumped off the stool on which he was standing and mimed a vigorous sword thrust into the guts of an invisible enemy. Some of my ladies gasped at his dumb-show.

  ‘And then I turned and struck out at all the devils around me, like this—’ (and he thrust) ‘and this’ (he thrust again) ‘and this!’ This time he mimed stabbing my newly appointed secretary of state, his rival. Robert Cecil was not as amused as the rest of the court.

  But I was delighted. I laughed out loud. ‘What, my lord, did you kill all of Philip’s men by yourself?’

  ‘Not all. I was but one part of our triumph over the Spaniards. We singed Philip’s beard, all right, with only a small party of Englishmen. Each one of them stout-hearted, brave and true!’

  ‘I should hope so, given how generously you rewarded them – and yourself.’

  It was a point of contention between us. Essex had his triumph right enough. His armada of eighty-two stout and nimble British ships (not such a small party, perhaps) had captured Cadiz and forced the Spanish to sink their fleet in the harbour for fear of it falling into English hands. We had cost Philip a pretty penny and reinforced our reputation as a formidable naval power. But I had funded the adventure and had received no return on my investment – and I had been promised a fair profit.

  ‘You are all to be congratulated. It is amusing to singe the beard of the King of Spain, as you say, and it has enhanced our reputation. For that I am grateful. However, the victory has been gained at considerable cost to my treasury and you promised me a profit, not a loss.’

  I had spoilt their fun. Essex dropped his imaginary cutlass (I almost fancied I could hear it clatter onto the floorboards). His face also fell, and my ladies sat as still and silent as statues, frozen into place. The stool that had done duty as the imaginary prow of the warship was kicked aside. Robert Cecil tactfully found business he had to attend to on the other side of the chamber. I took two steps towards the crestfallen hero. I spoke quietly so none could overhear. ‘You have done well, my lord. I will not say otherwise, but let me remind you that it is not enough for you to do your pleasure—’

  Essex made as if to dispute my words, but I held up my hand to silence him. ‘Do not deny it. You enjoyed every moment of this adventure. There is nothing you derive more pleasure from than feats of glory.’

  ‘In your service, Your Grace, always in your service.’

  ‘Then where is my reward? Where is my share of the bounty you realised? You boast of capturing Spanish gold, but I am yet to see a single glittering coin. No, my lord, I funded this expedition and have received nothing in return.’

  ‘I risked my life for you, Your Grace.’

  ‘That is your job.’ Essex and I were sometimes more like rivals than friends. It was a rare evening now that passed without some upset or acrimony between us. I had not entirely forgiven him for the death of Dr Lopez. I was uneasy about the possibility that an innocent man had lost his life. Essex was quick to take offence and to see a slight where none was meant. I seemed to be spending much of my ti
me in his company smoothing down his ruffled feathers and I was growing irritated. His reckless desire for action was costing me money! When the time came to divvy out honours after the raid on Cadiz I saw my opportunity to make my displeasure felt.

  ‘Why have you made Charles Howard the Earl of Nottingham, when I was the more deserving of your generals?’ Essex had stormed into the room without waiting to be announced. As usual, I could see by his face exactly what was going on in his mind and I braced myself for the onslaught. However, I had not ruled over men for more than thirty years without learning that a monarch never explains herself to a subject.

  ‘It is not for you, or anyone else, to question the wisdom of my decisions, my Lord Essex.’

  ‘I want you to take the honour from him. He does not deserve it, he did not earn it and you should not give such titles away so easily. Please, Your Grace, I beseech you, do not promote on false reports.’

  I was astonished at Essex, particularly as his impudent words were spoken in public, in my audience chamber, while surrounded by others. I knew that he took liberties and that I had given him more leeway than any other in my court. I had heard the grumblings of those who were not so favoured. I was treating him very much as I had treated Robin Dudley, but Essex was not Robin, who had only ever taken such liberties when we were alone, and otherwise was very careful of my status. Even when I tore up the paperwork granting him an earldom, Robin had swallowed the insult with dignity. If only his stepson had been as wise! Essex’s presumption had to be rebuffed. ‘You overstep yourself, my lord. I am the prince here and you are my subject. Do not presume to lecture me, or dispute with me about my decisions. I have rewarded those who I believe are most deserving and it is not for you to question. You would do well to think upon my words.’

  I turned on my heel, my cheeks burning. As I stormed out, shocked courtiers bowed low. I saw from the corner of my eye that the Bacon brothers had hastened to Essex’s side and were urgently whispering to him. I paused and turned. Then I spoke loudly so that everyone present could hear. ‘Give him good counsel, Sir Francis, Sir Anthony. Tell him to subdue both his temper and his expectations.’