“Oh, Saint Robert! Lustful Robert who cannot keep his hands from a harlot!”
“Your Majesty is beside herself…”
“I would I were beside them. I would send them to the Tower… both of them… and imprison them in different towers. I would imprison them in spite of Sussex.”
“Your Majesty is too wise to do any such thing.”
“Wise!” I cried. “To trust those who have betrayed me!”
Mary was weeping silently and I found it hard to look at her, for even in such a moment I remembered all that she had suffered for my sake.
I turned away and went to my apartments where I shut myself in… alone with my grief.
The next day I heard that Mary had left Court. I wondered whether she had gone to him. They were a devoted family—those Dudleys; and they all looked on Robert as a god. They thought there was no one like him and so—God help me—did I.
Within a few days my anger against him relented. It was not his fault, I continually told myself. It was that she-wolf. She had special powers of sorcery, and what man could stand out against that? He had been seduced by that wicked woman.
I sent word that he might leave Mireflore for Wanstead if he wished. So he went and I suppose she joined him there. I heard that Mary Sidney was with them. No doubt they were discussing the fall of the Dudleys. Let them. Let them think he had ruined his chances at Court forever.
I took his picture out of the little box in which I kept it. How handsome he was. How well the artist had caught that look of distinction which no other man I had ever seen had possessed. I wept a little over that portrait. I kissed it and put it carefully away.
Then I plunged into an even more intense flirtation with Simier whom I affectionately called My Monkey.
* * *
I WAS ASSUMING a gaiety I did not feel to show my indifference to Leicester's marriage. Rumor reached me that Robert was furious with Simier for telling me of it as he had. Of course I should have had to know in time. I supposed Robert had been trying to formulate some brilliant scheme for breaking the news to me and making his excuses.
One day when I was on my barge not far from Greenwich, Simier came to join me there. We were laughing as we sailed along the river and the musicians were playing sweet music to the accompaniment of a boy singer. Whenever I passed along the river my people came out to wave to me and I never failed to show my pleasure and my gratitude that they had come to greet me. There were plenty of other craft all round for it was a pleasant day.
“The cheers, little Monkey,” I said to Simier, who was standing beside me, “are for me and not for you.”
He smiled and he said that he doubted the people saw him; all else would be blotted out by my dazzling presence.
“They see you,” I said. “There is no doubt of that, but perhaps some of them are not very happy to see you. My people are not enamored of foreign marriages. I remember their feelings when my sister married into Spain.”
“Ah, but your bridegroom will come from France, which is quite different from Spain. The Spaniards are so solemn, are they not? You would not say that of the representatives of France, would you, Your Grace?”
“Not of my dear little Monkey, most certainly.”
Then suddenly in the midst of this banter the shot rang out. It had been discharged from a boat nearby. One of the bargemen fell fainting to the ground not six feet from where I stood.
There was shouting and screaming. The noise was great. Simier had turned very pale and was looking at me in horror.
“Your Majesty is unharmed,” he said. “Thank God.”
“It was meant for me …” I murmured.
“No, Your Majesty, I think not. I believe it was meant for me.”
I tore off my scarf and gave it to one of the bargemen. “Bind up that poor man's wounds at once,” I said, “and have him attended to.”
Several people were round him and it was discovered that he had been shot in both arms.
They said afterward how calm I was. I could be calm in such moments. How different from the virago who had screamed for vengeance when she heard of Robert Dudley's duplicity!
The man who had fired the shot was shouting his innocence. He had meant no harm, he insisted. The gun had gone off by accident.
We returned to Greenwich and there I was prevailed upon to rest.
I knew Simier thought that Robert had made an attempt on his life, but I did not believe that Robert would have placed me in the slightest danger. He was too fond of me. I was sure of that. If he had married her, it was because he had decided that I would never have him and, wanton slut that she was, she had appealed to his senses. I could always pick out that sort of woman. And Robert was weak in that regard; he was, after all, a man. It would have been different if I could have taken him. Robert was not really to blame.
When they brought the man to trial he turned out to be a certain Thomas Appletree who swore with conviction that he had never been part of any plot and insisted that his firearm had gone off accidentally. He said he was in no way to blame for what had happened and if he had harmed his beloved Queen he would have turned the weapon on himself.
I intervened and said he should be pardoned for I believed in his innocence; and I asked his master to retain his services.
“Your Majesty is gracious and merciful,” said Sussex. “There is a doubt and you have given this man the benefit of it.”
“My lord Sussex,” I replied, “I would not believe anything against my subjects which loving parents would not believe of their children.”
This remark was repeated. Thomas Appletree, I knew, would be my devoted subject for the rest of his life, and the people loved me more than ever after the shooting on the barge.
Simier, however, continued to believe that it was a plot arranged by Leicester in revenge for his having told me of the clandestine marriage.
NEWS WAS BROUGHT to me that Robert was very ill at Wanstead.
“Serve him right!” I said. “He deserves to be ill. He is suffering from a surfeit of conscience, and I hope it plagues him for a very long time.”
But that night I could not sleep. I pictured him, pale and haggard, on his sick-bed calling for me, begging my forgiveness, longing for me to speak a few gentle words to him. What if he did not recover? What if he were on his death-bed?
The next morning I decided that I was going to see for myself how ill Robert was. I sent a message to that effect to Wanstead which would warn the she-wolf to make herself scarce if she happened to be with him.
Wanstead was not far out of London and an easy journey. As soon as I reached the house I went straight to his apartments.
He looked very pale and wan lying there. I went to his bedside and seating myself, took his hands in mine.
“Robert!” I cried in dismay. “You are really ill.”
I had half believed that he was shamming and had invented this to win my sympathy. I had put up some very good shows of delicacy myself in the past and it was not surprising that I should suspect others of doing the same.
He opened his eyes and smiled at me faintly. He was murmuring something and to catch it I had to bend over him. “My gracious lady …you came…to see me.”
I was so worried that I spoke very sharply. “Of course I came. You knew I would. In spite of your folly… still I came.”
I touched his forehead. It was not hot. Thank God, I thought, there is no fever.
I said shortly: “I shall stay here until you are better.”
He smiled and shook his head with the melancholy expression of one who knows his end is near.
I was still a little unsure and I was really hoping that it was a pretense for I knew I could not bear for him to pass out of my life. It would be so empty without him and if he were shamming I was only glad that he had gone to such lengths to bring me back to him. I forgave him. Then I kept reminding myself that men were weak creatures and that the she-wolf was a sorceress.
“Now, Robin,” I said
, “you have been overeating, I doubt not, and drinking too much and indulging too freely generally in the so-called pleasures of the flesh. That is changed now. I shall look after you and my orders will be obeyed.”
He smiled fondly and happily, I thought.
“Why, you already look better,” I said.
“Of course I do. That is your healing presence.”
I stayed with him for three days at Wanstead while I tended him myself and at the end of that time he was well again—apart from touches of the gout.
I spoke to him very seriously: “Robert,” I said, “you are a fool.”
He looked sheepish. “I know it well,” he answered ruefully.
“You do not take care of yourself. You eat like a pig. Your complexion is growing very ruddy and you are too fat. I remember you so well when you came to Hatfield…”
“Ah, I remember too. I had sold my lands to provide the money you might need.”
“And I made you my Master of Horse. You were not heavy then, Robert.”
“We all must grow old… save you.”
“I also, Robert—although I fight against it. It is a losing battle and time will win in the end. But I shall put up a good fight in the meantime and so must you, Robin…so must you.”
“What should I do without you?” he asked.
“Very well,” I answered tartly, “with your new wife. Very well indeed until the she-wolf shows her fangs.”
He looked at me sadly.
“How could you, Robin? How could you so deceive me?”
“You gave me no hope. You showed your preference so clearly for the Frenchman.”
“Robert… you fool! You know why, don't you?”
“I wanted a son. I could not go on… hoping. I had realized after all these years that my hopes would never come to anything.”
“We belong together,” I said, “you and I. Nothing can alter that … nothing … no one can come between us. Whatever happens, you know that.”
He nodded.
“We have been through much together,” I went on. “We are part of England. Your life and mine are interwoven. So will it ever be…”
“I know. That is why I could not bear that you should spurn me.”
“You should have thought what my feelings would be before you took this disastrous step.”
“You would not have me. You had wounded me deeply with that simpering Frenchman.”
“You know why. You are a fool…a jealous fool.”
“I admit it.”
“I command you now to get well. You shall…in time… come back to Court.”
“My dearest Majesty…”
I felt my face harden. “You …” I said firmly. “You… alone. I never want to look again into the face of that she-wolf.”
So in a very short time there was reconciliation between us. I had accepted the fact that he was married; but I promised myself that Lettice Knollys should be denied the Court for as long as I ruled over it.
* * *
POLITICAL EVENTS WERE taking a serious turn. We could not afford to keep Anjou dangling indefinitely. The Treaty of Nerac had been signed, which meant that there was an end to the religious wars that had kept France busy for so long, and therefore the French were now free to take action elsewhere. We must be careful not to offend them. Our eyes were still on the Netherlands; moreover, the King of Portugal had died without issue and Spain was on the point of taking over its close neighbor, which would make it more powerful than ever.
“We must in no way alienate the French at this time,” said Burghley. “We cannot go on putting off the marriage. Your Majesty must make a decision and if you have no intention of marrying, it would be better to go no farther in this.”
“And incur the wrath of the Queen Mother and the whole of France as well as my little Anjou! Would that be wise?”
“Wiser than doing it later. So unless Your Majesty has decided that you will indeed marry, perhaps we should be considering how best to break off negotiations.”
“This matter may be left in my hands. Let us make ready to welcome the Duc d'Anjou.”
They were all convinced that I intended to marry my little French Prince. Simier was delighted with his success and word was sent at once to the Duc and the Queen Mother that I was all impatience to see my lover.
I was expecting the worst. The reports I had heard of him were not encouraging. I knew that he was disfigured by the smallpox for I had corresponded with his mother concerning remedial lotions. I knew that he was small and ugly. At Court they were asking themselves how I, who had always been so impressed by good looks, could tolerate such a creature.
When I saw him I was rather touched. It was true that he was one of the ugliest men I had ever seen. He was of exceptionally low stature and I admired tall men; his skin was hideously pockmarked—the elixirs, in spite of his mother's protestations, had been ineffective—and in addition to ruining his skin, the disease had worked its mischief on his nose so that it appeared to be split in the middle, and as it had from his birth been long, it hung down over his mouth. He reminded me of nothing so much as a little frog.
To compensate this he had the most beautiful manners I had ever known; he bowed gracefully and appeared to shrug aside his unprepossessing appearance as though he were unaware of it, and that made one forget it for long periods of time. His conversation was brilliant, for he was quite erudite, and to my astonishment I found myself enjoying his company. I was sure we looked incongruous together—he, so much smaller than I, looking up at me with that sophisticated adoration at which the French are so accomplished, and which made the compliments of my own men seem rather gauche.
So having been prepared for his ugliness I was not entirely displeased with my French Prince. I quickly christened him Little Frog, a term which amused him; and I had a brooch made in the shape of a frog. It glittered with diamonds and precious stones and I allowed him to pin it on me; and every time we met he would look for it and smile with satisfaction to see it prominently displayed.
My ministers were often in a state of exasperation. I dallied with the young Prince. I kept him at my side. I showed my pleasure in his company. Perhaps shrewd Burghley guessed that I was still smarting from Robert's behavior. However I prepared myself to enjoy the attentions of my little Frog Prince.
I never for one moment lost sight of the danger of the situation or that to offend the French could be disastrous for England. We had our spies in Spain and I was well aware what a deadly enemy Philip was. He had connived at plots to murder me; indeed he had given his full support to them. If he moved into the Netherlands, he would have no difficulty in bringing his armies across the Low Countries and from there it was an easy step to England. I had concentrated on the building of my Navy but I knew that it could not stand up against the might of Spain. Burghley had no need to point out to me that it was imperative that we did not affront France. If it were not for the fact that they hoped to see the Duc d'Anjou King of England, they might even attempt to land in Scotland, gather together disgruntled Catholics and march to free Mary of Scotland.
Dangers beset me on all sides and so much depended on how long I could go on playing the game of courtship with the Frog Prince, thereby holding the French at bay and giving the Spaniards qualms at the prospect of a strong alliance between France and England.
Even those ministers who respected my shrewdness and knew that I was as capable as anyone alive of playing a devious game, wondered how I could go on holding off my little Frog.
Fortunately this visit was to be a brief one of twelve days. Later he would come again, of course, and then there would be no excuse for delay—but I should have to find one.
My behavior with him—our tender gestures, our lovesick looks—those of mine no less than his—had convinced many people that there was going to be a marriage. Burghley, Bacon and such men in my close counsels knew that I was not going to marry, but the rest of the country believed I would. It was necessary that they sh
ould, for no indication must reach the French Court—and their spies in England were numerous—that my intentions were otherwise.
My subjects showed their great aversion to the match; and this was one of the rare occasions when I was angry with them. They seemed to think that I had been bemused by this ugly little Frenchman and that our union would be ridiculous since I was old enough to be his mother. As if I did not know that! They seemed to be of the opinion that I was a silly old woman who sought to be loved by a young man. And all the time I was pretending to consider marriage to save plunging them and my realm into war. Oh, I am not pretending that I did not relish the flattery, the extravagant manifestations of the great passion I inspired; I will not even say that I did not sometimes let myself believe in them. I had to, to play my part convincingly; and I did it for England. I never had intended to marry any man—not even Robert; and that decision stood firm. At the same time I dared not let our enemies guess that I was engaged in a piece of diplomacy.
I was, therefore, very angry when a pamphlet was brought to my notice. This had been written by a certain John Stubbs, a Protestant and puritan, a learned young man who had graduated from Cambridge. His intense fear and hatred of the Catholics was apparent, but I knew that he was expressing the views of others—perhaps more influential than himself—and the fact that I was being so misunderstood and could do nothing to correct the people's views of me infuriated me.
The title of the pamphlet was The Discoverie of a Gaping Gulf whereinto England is like to be swallowed by another French Marriage if the Lord forbid not the Banes by letting Her Majestie see the sin and punishment thereof.
There was nothing disloyal to me in the pamphlet; indeed Stubbs's character emerged as most loyal; he had merely allowed his hatred of Catholicism and the French to overcome his common sense. He saw in the proposed marriage the very foundations of our country being destroyed and to quote him “Our dear Queen Elizabeth led blindfold as a poor lamb to the slaughter.”
To hear myself described as a poor lamb led to the slaughter was more than I could bear. When I thought of how, since my accession, I had kept my country out of war, how I had served my people with unswerving devotion—and then to be thought of as a poor lovesick fool, for foolish a woman must be in her mid-forties to imagine a young man in love with her, splendid as she may be and ugly as he was—I was very angry.
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