Queen Of This Realm

by Виктория Холт

  Robert did not appear to notice any change in my demeanor but then he was not as subtle as Lettice.

  I had always liked handsome people around me, particularly men, and I let myself believe that they all meant the charming things they said to me. They all behaved as though they were in love with me—indeed that was one of the passports to my favor, and some of them did it remarkably well.

  I had my favorites from time to time and I liked them to work well for me as well as admire me. Cecil was an exception. I did not want compliments from him; he would never have known how to pay them in any case. What I asked from him was all he was prepared to give—devoted service and the truth. Robert was unique. Whatever should come between us I knew could not be lasting. My love for him was a steady flame, yet something which appeared to be in danger of being doused, but I knew never would.

  Two of my favorite young men at this time were Christopher Hatton and Thomas Heneage. Both were extremely handsome, with impeccable Court manners; they knew how to dress immaculately and behave in the manner necessary to gain my favor. Hatton was one of the best dancers I had ever seen, and he and I dancing together were a spectacle to make watchers spellbound. He was clever too.

  Thomas Heneage was older but none the less charming. I had appointed him a Gentleman of the Bedchamber soon after my accession and he had a seat in Parliament as member for Stamford.

  Robert had already shown some jealousy of these two for he could never bear to see me show favor to anyone else and till now it had always been clear that however others pleased me there was one who remained firm in my affections.

  However, I was very angry with Robert over Lettice and I was determined to show him that my fancy was not so deeply set on him that I could not feel affection for others.

  The opportunity came on Twelfth Night when the great event of the evening was the ceremony of the King of the Bean. It was a variation of a game which had been played for centuries when some little device is used to name the one who will be honored for the evening and whom, until midnight, all must obey.

  In this version, the Bean was placed on a silver platter and carried in with great ceremony by one of the pages who knelt before me and presented it to me. Then I would take the Bean and bestow it on the man of my choice who would then be nominated. The first thing the King of the Bean demanded— and it was a rule that all must obey that night—was to kiss the Queen's hand.

  I always pretended to ponder and regard the gentleman before me earnestly as though assessing his right to the honor of the Bean, but I invariably bestowed it on the one who seemed to me to outshine all others. That, of course, always had to be Robert.

  On this night, seated about me were several of my favorite young men and among them Robert, Heneage and Christopher Hatton.

  Robert did not know the extent of my annoyance with him for he was smiling preparing to accept the Bean.

  However, just as he was moving forward to kneel before me and be ready to take it, I cried out in ringing tones: “I name Sir Thomas Heneage King of the Bean.”

  I was almost sorry to see the change in Robert's face. He turned quite pale and his lips tightened while he looked as though he could not believe his ears. Much as I wanted to punish him for his philanderings, I felt sorry for him and I was sure that anything that had happened was the fault of that woman, Lettice Knollys.

  Sir Thomas however was overcome with delight and was kneeling before me looking up at me with that brand of adoration which was so pleasing when it came from an attractive man.

  “Come, Thomas,” I said, “make your demands.”

  He looked at me almost wonderingly, and when I held out my hand for him to kiss, all the time I was watching Robert's glowering looks.

  The evening progressed. Robert disappeared for a while and I noticed Lettice Knollys did too. I did not ask where they were but I noticed the time they were away and I was growing more and more angry. I had to restrain myself from sending someone to find them and bring them back to me; but that of course would be folly. It was almost as though Robert did not care that I had passed him over for Heneage. Oh, but he did! I had seen his face when I gave the Bean to Sir Thomas.

  I danced a great deal that night, first with Heneage and then with Hatton. The floor cleared while Hatton and I performed and everyone applauded wholeheartedly. Sir Thomas forbade any to use the floor while we danced for he said everyone would want to see the most perfect, lively yet elegant performance of the Queen. I saw Robert come back to the ballroom. Lettice was not with him but they would not be so foolish as to return together but I was sure they had been with each other. I noticed, too, the furtive glances which were cast at Robert. He must have been aware of them, too. People were whispering about him, asking themselves if this was the end of his favor with me and whether I was thinking of setting either Heneage or Hatton up in his place. It must have been galling for Robert and I almost called him to me to comfort him and to show these crowing courtiers that they were quite wrong. My anger with him would pass as soon as he gave up sighing for my cousin Lettice and turned his attention entirely on me. But this was part of his punishment and I must not weaken toward him.

  Sir Thomas announced that there was to be a game of Question and Answer, one which was played frequently at Court revels and as he was the King of the Bean, Heneage would say how it was to be played on this night. He would select the questions and then say who was to ask them of whom. I guessed, of course, that Robert would be selected for Heneage was as jealous of Robert as Robert was of him, and having seen Robert suffer the humiliation of not being selected to take the Bean, he would be only too ready to submit him to further discomfort.

  “I command my Lord Leicester to ask a question of the Queen,” declared Heneage.

  Robert calmly waited while Heneage said slowly: “The question is, Which is more difficult to erase from the mind, an evil opinion created by an informer or jealousy?”

  I smiled at Robert as he turned to me and repeated Heneage's words.

  I thought: You are indeed jealous, my dear Robert, and I suppose so am I. How foolish we are to cause each other pain.

  And I replied: “My Lord Leicester, they are both hard to be rid of, but jealousy would seem to be the harder.”

  Applause rang out as though I had said something profoundly wise, but Robert had flushed and he did not meet my eye.

  It had not been a very amusing evening for me. I missed him for he disappeared again. He was indeed piqued. I was very sorry but I did not intend to allow him to carry on his philandering at my Court.

  * * *

  WHEN I HEARD that Robert was going to fight a duel I was filled with apprehension. It was exciting to know that they were fighting for my favor but terrifying to contemplate that Robert might receive some injury or—a prospect which appalled me—be killed.

  It appeared that on the morning after the night of the Bean, Robert had sent a messenger to Heneage telling him that he was going to call and he would be bringing a stick with him for he had to administer a lesson. There could be only one response to that and Heneage made it. The Earl of Leicester would be very welcome and Sir Thomas Heneage would be waiting for him with a sword.

  This was ridiculous.

  I sent for Heneage. There was a hushed atmosphere in the royal apartments. I knew my ladies were whispering together just out of sight; their eyes would be sparkling with anticipation as they speculated on the outcome. They were all certain that Robert was falling out of favor, the idiots—as if he ever would! As for Heneage, he was a good-looking man and I did not want him hurt either.

  Lettice was there. I should send her off. It would be simple to dismiss her and pack her off to her husband's house. But in a way that would be to admit defeat and to imply that I could not beat her on equal terms.

  However, my first task was to stop this absurd duel.

  Heneage knelt before me all eagerness. I really believe he thought he had increased my regard for him. Perhaps he was planning to
kill Robert and hand me his head on a charger. The fool! If he harmed Robert—however slightly—I would never forgive him.

  “So, Master Heneage,” I said, “you have decided to fight duels, have you, when you know I forbid such folly?”

  “Your Majesty,” he began, raising his bewildered eyes to mine, “I…I but sought to teach a lesson…”

  “So you have become a tutor, have you, my merry man. You would teach the Earl of Leicester good manners, would you, disregarding your Sovereign's wishes and strutting about waving your sword!”

  “Your Majesty, the Earl of Leicester began this by threatening me…”

  I pupped with my lips which they all knew was my way of expressing contempt. I kept him on his knees while I made it very clear that I would have no dueling in my realm.

  “If you think to win my favor with your buccaneer's ways you are mistaken. I will not have brawling… and screaming of abuse. Though…if you must fight, fight with words.”

  “Your Majesty …” There was a certain protest in his voice. I suddenly had a picture of Robert lying mortally wounded on a stretch of grass with a triumphant Heneage standing over him and I could not bear it. I brought up my hand and gave Heneage a stinging blow about the head.

  I watched the red blood flow into his face; he put up his hand and I was rather sorry for him. After all this had all come about through their feelings for me and if it was ambition which prompted them rather than love, I could not blame them for that.

  “There, Master Heneage, you may go, and next time prate not so freely of using your sword against another of my subjects, wreaking damage on him… and yourself.”

  He went out shamefacedly and feeling sorry for him I called out: “I like to see you too well at my Court, Master Heneage. Remember that.”

  The smile came back to his face. He bowed as he retired; and I did not think he would dare challenge Robert again.

  Then I sent for Robert.

  If he had come humbly I think I should have forgiven him and then asked him outright about his affair with Lettice, banished her from Court and taken him back; but he was truculent. In a way I would not have had him pleading, and although part of me wanted him to, I was glad there was nothing mealy-mouthed about Robert. He flattered me; perhaps he professed to love me more than he did; but if part of that love was for the crown, there was still a large measure for me alone.

  He was sullen, aloof, proud, telling me quite clearly that although I was the Queen he considered himself my equal—and that was something I would not endure.

  I said: “So you think fit to flout my rules and brawl with Heneage?”

  “I cannot submit to insults from such men.”

  “Such men? What mean you? Heneage is a worthy member of my Court.”

  “If Your Majesty thinks so…”

  “I do think so. I tell you I think so.”

  He lifted his shoulders almost contemptuously and I thought: This is what comes of showing too much favor to one man. This arrogant Robert needs a lesson and by God's Blood he shall have it.

  “I have wished you well,” I cried and my voice grew louder as I continued: “But my favor is not so locked up in you that others may not have a share of it. I have other servants besides my Lord Leicester. I would have you remember, Master Dudley, that there is one mistress here and no master. I have raised up some, but they can as surely be lowered, and so they shall be if they assume an arrogant impudence because once they enjoyed my favor.”

  Robert was stunned. I admit now that I was a little, too. I was angry and deeply hurt, to see him standing there so far apart from me, his face as handsome in anger as it ever was. I almost put my arms about him and promised him that I would marry him after all.

  But the sterner side of me said no. Have you not seen what happens to a man when a little power passes into his hands? What did Melville say of you: You will brook no commander. Remember it, for Melville is right.

  So I stood there and for a few moments we stared coldly at each other in silence.

  Then he spoke quietly and said: “Your Majesty, I ask your permission to retire from Court.”

  “You have it,” I said, “and the sooner the better.”

  He was gone, leaving me angry, deeply wounded and desperately unhappy.

  * * *

  HOW DULL THE COURT was without him! I was fractious and illtempered. When I sat through the long process of preparing myself for the evening's revelries, I was constantly shouting at my ladies until they were reduced to such nervousness that they were even more clumsy than they would otherwise have been; and this added to my irritability. All the intricate processes of getting into bone and buckram, the tight lacing, the whalebone hips, the petticoats, the glittering picadillie ruffs, the gorgeous gowns of velvets and brocades glittering with pearls and precious stones… they all seemed pointless because Robert would not be there to see me. Lettice was still waiting on me, and I did have the satisfaction of knowing that, in any case, he was not with her.

  I heard that he had gone to Kenilworth which had come into his possession with the title, and that he was making it into one of the most magnificent castles in the country.

  I wondered if he missed the Court and me.

  They were saying: This is the end of Leicester. His day is over. Well, he had a good running. Who will take his place?

  Idiots! I thought. As if anyone could take his place!

  One of Robert's chief enemies was Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. I had favored Howard when I came to the throne because of his connection with my mother's family; moreover I needed his support because he was one of the leading peers in the country; but I never liked him. I thought he was arrogant and stupid with it.

  Many of them were jealous of the favor I showed to Robert, of course, and Norfolk particularly so since the incident at the tennis court some little time before which I had forgotten.

  I had been watching Robert play with Norfolk. My father had excelled at the game and loved to play it before spectators for he always won (it was the rule of the Court that no one should beat him). Therefore he had liked a goodly company of lookers-on, especially beautiful women.

  In this particular game Robert was winning for he was very skilled in all games and although, like my father, he hated to be beaten, in Robert's case he had to win by skill.

  This he was doing and Norfolk was becoming more and more disconcerted especially as when Robert made a good stroke I clapped my hands and my ladies naturally did the same.

  During a pause in the game with Robert well in ascendance, he came to my side. I smiled at him lovingly and he returned my smile.

  “You are too hot, Robin,” I chided him. “You will take a chill.”

  At which he took my mockinder—a sort of handkerchief—from my girdle and mopped his brow with it. I must admit that I was a little taken aback by such an act of familiarity in public, but it pleased me in a way, even though I knew that it was such gestures which gave substance to the gossip that we were lovers.

  Norfolk had seen it and he cried out: “You impudent dog! You insult the Queen!”

  He approached Robert brandishing his racquet and I thought there would be a fight in my presence. I was too startled to cry out and before I could do anything to put an end to the scene, Robert had seized Norfolk's hand which held the racquet, twisting it so that the Duke yelled in pain and the racquet dropped to the ground.

  I could blame Norfolk absolutely for he had started the brawl. I shouted then: “How dare you, Norfolk! How dare you behave in such a way before me! Look to it, or it may not be only your temper which is lost.”

  Norfolk was immediately subdued. He wanted to explain but I silenced him and he asked leave to retire.

  “That I willingly give,” I cried. “And pray do not return until I send for you.” Then I turned to Robert and I said: “Methinks, my lord Norfolk does not like to be beaten at tennis. Not only does he lose the game but his temper with it. And you, my lord Leicester, are somewhat
overcome by the heat. Pray be seated and cool yourself.”

  I indicated that he should sit beside me and as he did so, I took the mockinder and replaced it in my girdle.

  So now that Robert appeared to be in decline Norfolk would be jubilant and with the help of Sussex and Arundel he thought he could destroy Robert forever.

  I was sure that they were behind the diabolical plan, when rumors started to circulate once more concerning the death of Amy Robsart.

  It appeared that John Appleyard, Amy's half-brother, had stated that he had received large sums of money from Robert at the time of Amy's death for his services in suppressing certain facts and now his conscience demanded that he make those facts known.

  I could imagine them all—Norfolk, Sussex and Arundel—rubbing their hands together with glee. Leicester is out of favor. Let us kick him while he is down. Let us destroy the gentleman once and for all.

  Robert might survive my disfavor and occupy himself away from Court, but if he were found guilty of murder, what then?

  Old scandals did not easily die. Skeletons remained to confront the unwary. But they had forgotten that if Robert could not afford to have the circumstances of Amy Robsart's death brought into prominence, nor could I.

  I thought of him surrounded by the splendors of Kenilworth. Was he as lonely as I, as wretched without me as I was without him?

  I knew what I would do. I would recall him to Court. I would show my favor to him. I would let him know that when he was in danger there was one who would not forget him.

  I sent for him.

  He came back with all speed. I shall never forget the moment when he came into my chamber. He knelt at my feet and I touched his head—that dark curling hair which I loved so much.

  I said: “Rob, the Court has been dull without you.”

  “Elizabeth,” he said. “My beautiful Elizabeth.”

  Then he was kissing my hands and I felt near to weeping.

  “You are an evil man to displease me,” I cried emotionally. “Never… never do it again.”