‘Ride astride, my Lord? It is many years since I have done that.’
‘You will be a soldier, Majesty, a part of the army, in appearance if not in deed.’ He swallowed the rest of his ale and strode towards the door, ready to begin summoning everyone they would need for this vital piece of theatrical propaganda. He reached the door and bowed towards the Queen, quirking his lips into a wry smile.
‘When we are finished, Majesty, they will follow you into Hell itself.’
***
Four days later Robert rode by the side of the Queen as she faced the troops at Tilbury. He was pleased she looked so magnificent. All his ideas had been put into practice, and Elizabeth rode astride a magnificent grey gelding, clad in a plain gown of white damask, with a cloak of dove grey velvet draped from her shoulders and clasped with the largest two brooches in the Royal collection. The local theatrical company had provided a beautiful auburn wig that tumbled in curls down the Queen’s back, and was fixed to her own hair with pearl-encrusted combs and pins.
Her silver breastplate, found at the back of the armoury and belonging previously to Margaret of Anjou, had been polished and buffed to an eye-watering shine, and was strapped over the Queen’s gown. The horse had a huge white silk caparison over the chest-plate it wore, bearing the cross of St. George. Robert was pleased with the visual effect the sight of the Queen had on the gathered troops, and that Elizabeth was enjoying the part of England’s figurehead was obvious.
They had been given the news that Drake and Effingham had chased the Spanish fleet away from the shores of England, and had attacked the Armada near the port of Gravelines with the fire ships. Decimated and in disarray, the Spanish were trying to sail into friendly waters, chased all the while by English ships intent on capturing booty. Yet there was still the possibility that a land attack could be launched from the Spanish Netherlands, and the troops needed to be kept in readiness.
Trumpets announced the Queen’s arrival, and the command was given for the troops to stand at attention for the address of the Queen. Elizabeth rode up and down the line, nodding and smiling at her men at arms, finally coming to a halt in the centre and lifting her chin to encompass those behind the front ranks, and further back as far as she could see from the back of her horse. As Robert watched, she gathered herself and took a deep breath.
‘My loving people,’ Elizabeth gazed up and down the line of troops and nodded, ‘We have been persuaded by some that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes for fear of treachery.’ She looked across at Robert and inclined her head, as if in gratitude at his care and advice, then she looked back at the soldiery and spoke even louder, ‘Let tyrants fear. I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chief strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and goodwill of my subjects.’
Elizabeth smiled as they cheered their goodwill at her, their Queen. Her horse skittered slightly at the noise, but she calmed it with ease of practice, then, as the cheers subsided, she began to speak again.
‘Therefore I am come amongst you all, as you see at this time, not for my recreation and disport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die amongst you all; to lay down for my God, and for my kingdom, and for my people, my honour and my blood, even in the dust.’
The troops began cheering again, stamping their feet and rattling their pikes on the ground in support of a sovereign that had come especially to stay with them in battle, and who had promised to shed her blood in the same dust that theirs would stain. Elizabeth waited a moment more for the sounds to die away again, then she stood up in her stirrups for the final words of her speech.
‘I know I have the body of a weak and feeble woman, but I have the heart and stomach of a king, and a king of England too! And think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any Prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realm!’
***
In the command tent, Robert received word that the Armada was destroyed, and that there was no inclination from Spain to mount an assault on land; England was safe. Some of the Spanish ships had fled for Spain, others had tried to outwit Drake and sail for Ireland. Those had been wrecked off the coasts of both Scotland and Ireland, their captains taken by surprise by the storms in the Atlantic that they had been ill prepared for in the summer months.
Robert was relieved that the emergency was over. The panic and anxiety felt by the country had upset his digestion further, and he decided he would take Lettice and journey up to Buxton to take the waters there. It had helped him last time, and he thought the Queen would not object to his absence for a few days, after what England had been through.
He scrawled a swift note telling Lettice he was on his way home, but to pack for their journey, and another telling the Queen, who had retired to her palace at Westminster to await the outcome of the conflict. He sent Tom with both notes, and then summoned the captain of his personal guard to make ready and escort him home to Leicester House.
***
‘Oh, Robin. Thank God you are safe.’ Lettice hurled herself into his arms as soon as he had dismounted his horse and he chuckled in his throat as she covered his face with frantic kisses.
‘Lily, I haven’t been gone very long, and I have only been as far as Tilbury. You could have ridden to see me in half a day, my love.’
‘I don’t care, you are home. And I have packed as you asked, and we are ready to go to Buxton when you will.’ She clasped his arm as they walked together into the house, stroking his doublet with her other hand and being rewarded with his fingers entwining in hers. She beamed up at him in delight.
‘Aunt Meg has sent you some more milk thistle, my love, and you also have a package from the Queen’s messenger.’ Robert’s brows rose in surprise. He had been struggling with his digestion for a few days, but with all the preparations for the Queen’s speech, he hadn’t realised Elizabeth had noticed his discomfort. That she had thought to send him a remedy touched him greatly.
‘Very well then, Lily. I shall bathe and dine at home tonight, and then tomorrow we shall set off for Buxton. Can you ask Thomas to arrange for a tub of water, and chicken or fish for dinner?’
Lettice dimpled at him, as excited as a girl that he was home with her. ‘Your bath awaits, my Lord. Dinner is ordered, and I, my Lord,’ she dipped a small curtsey, ‘would be honoured to be your handmaiden and help you bathe.’
Robert caught her fingers and brought them to his lips, smiling and then wriggling his brows at her as she laughed in breathless excitement.
‘If you are to be my handmaiden, my love, my bath may have to wait. Then we can both enjoy it.’ He kissed her hand and then, as she trotted up the stairs in front of him, he raced after her and caught her in his arms as she screeched with laughter. The gallery echoed with the thump of the door to their chamber closing with a crash, and chuckles and giggles were all that disturbed the silence.
Chapter 49
ettice grew more and more concerned about Robert’s health the further north they travelled. Without the pressure of the imminent attack from Spain, Robert seemed to diminish somehow, as if the tension had been the only thing that had kept him on his feet.
He chose to travel in the carriage with her, rather than ride, although Thomas, Tom and Kytt all rode with the escort and led his horse should he wish to change his mind. He seemed to be content in the carriage, making conversation with her and Ursula when he had a mind to, but dozing with the motion of the wheels much of the time. Lettice never let go of his hand.
Lodgings had been arranged for them at Rycote House, and they arrived there just before supper. Robert climbed down from the carriage and offered his arm to Lettice.
‘Come, my love. I would rest again before supper, bu
t I must write a thank you note to the Queen for the remedy she sent.’ Lettice wrinkled her nose and shook her head despairingly.
‘Robin, rest, I beg you. Write in the morning before we leave and the steward here can ask someone to ride back to London with your note. We have been travelling so long, my love. Please rest.’
He patted her hand and they progressed into the great house, as Thomas organised their luggage behind them and Kytt hurried to make sure the food was ready. Tom took the horses into the stable yard, and Ursula told Thomas which boxes they would need for the overnight stay.
Hoofs on the gravel at the gate made Thomas look across the green as a horseman in Royal livery rode up to the house and quickly dismounted. Feeling inside his satchel for a package, he held it out to Thomas.
‘From her Majesty. For his Lordship.’ Thomas took the package with a laconic grunt, and then nodded to the kitchen.
‘Sup, lad. While you wait for a response.’ The boy grinned and made his way into the kitchen while Thomas took the package up to the room occupied by Robert and Lettice. He knocked quietly on the door and it was answered almost immediately by Lettice, worry creasing her brow.
‘My Lady.’ He held out the package. ‘From the Queen.’ Lettice’s brows rose.
‘Indeed, Thomas. The hounds of hell won’t prevent him from writing to her now.’ She huffed a wry chuckle and Thomas bowed his head briefly.
‘The lad is waiting if my Lord wants to send a note back, my Lady.’
Lettice placed her hand on Thomas’ arm and squeezed gratefully. ‘Thank you, Thomas. That was clever of you, knowing he would want to respond. And it might ease his mind. Thomas..’ she stopped and looked at him with anxious eyes.
‘My Lady?’
‘Could you ask our hosts it they know of a reputable physician? Robin is beginning to worry me, Thomas. He is bathed in sweat, although it isn’t particularly warm today, and he says he feels as if he needs to vomit, although he has barely eaten anything.’
‘At once, my Lady. I shall fetch him myself if I have to.’
Lettice patted his arm again in gratitude and closed the door gently, taking the package with her.
***
Lettice watched anxiously as Robert carefully sanded and folded the letter, then sealed it and scrawled the Queen’s name on the outside. She took the letter from him and handed it to Thomas, then helped Robert stand and move to the bed.
‘Now will you see the physician, Robin?’ she asked as he leaned against the pillows and closed his eyes, beads of moisture standing out on his forehead with even that slight exertion. He nodded silently and Thomas opened the door to admit the medic, a small man clad in black robes with the sharp features of a squirrel, who bustled across to the bed and scrutinised Robert from a distance, clicking his tongue as he did so.
‘Doctor, what is wrong with my husband?’ Lettice knew her question was hard to answer; the doctor hadn’t yet laid a hand on Robert yet she expected a diagnosis and cure just by the man being in the room. He carried on clicking his tongue.
‘I cannot say, Countess. He obviously has a great fever. It may be tertian fever, from the docks, or a simple ague. I don’t think he has the sweat. Has he complained of other symptoms, my Lady?’
‘He says he would like to vomit, but he hasn’t yet.’ Lettice gazed at Robert, who lay silently with his eyes closed, the occasional slight grimace of pain wrinkling his brow. She walked to the side of the bed and took his hand, fixing the doctor with a glare as the doctor nodded to himself absently.
‘What shall we do, Doctor?’ The squirrelly-looking man shook his head and clicked his tongue and Lettice tried not to scream.
‘Try and keep him cool, my Lady. And pray the fever breaks.’
Lettice gasped at him in astonishment. ‘Water and prayer, Doctor? That is your cure?’ Her voice was rising in frustration and panic.
‘If it is fever, Countess, then it will break and he will live. If it is some other malady, I have no cure for it, and God may answer your prayers that he might live.’
She let go of Robert’s hand and strode towards the doctor furiously, pushing him with the flat of her hands to get him out of the room.
‘God has never answered any of my other prayers, so I hardly think he would start now. Get out. I shall care for my husband myself.’ Her voice broke with emotion, and she saw Thomas thrust open the door with his hand on his dagger at the commotion.
‘Thomas, take this charlatan away, and bring me some cool water and some soft cloths. Warm chicken broth, plain ale and bread.’
‘I advise you to pray, my Lady. That is the best medicine for a lost cause, the will of God.’ The doctor stood at the side of Thomas and shook his finger at Lettice, who glared at him with fire snapping in her eyes. She pulled her arm back and slapped his face hard, and Thomas blinked in surprise.
‘Get him out, Thomas,’ she hissed as she hurried back to the bed.
‘My Lady.’
***
Lettice sat in the huge chair pulled up to the side of the bed, dozing lightly and holding Robert’s hand. At the sound of his voice she sat up straight and replaced the cloth on his brow with a cooler one.
‘I’m sorry, Amy. I should have been kinder to you,’ Robert whispered and Lettice knew his delirium had returned. She had heard him whispering to his father and his brother Henry throughout the long night, and he had slept a troubled and fitful sleep. She reached over and changed the cloth again, wiping his face and neck with cool water. As she turned to replace the cloth in the water, Robert caught her hand and she looked into his dark fever-filled eyes.
‘Lily,’ his voice was a hoarse whisper and she put a cup of ale to his lips so he could take a small swallow.
‘Oh, my love. You are returned to me.’ Lettice replaced the cup and took Robert’s hand, kissing it and holding it to her breast. She smiled into his eyes and tilted her head to hear his words. His breath rasped in his throat and it was a moment before he could speak. Lettice pushed down her tears at his struggle.
He took a ragged breath and shook his head. ‘I heard you pray.’ His breath rushed out with his words and he gave her a wry quirk of his lips. She knew he must have heard her railing against God throughout the night in her fright at his illness. She kissed his hand again and dimpled at him ruefully.
He let out a huge sigh and Lettice looked at him in terror, waiting for him to take a breath in. When he did so, she almost wept with joy. He took another breath to speak.
‘I think I must leave you, my love.’
Lettice’s throat closed and her world narrowed to a small dark place, with only her and Robert. She felt a buzzing start in her ears and she shook her head impatiently to clear it. She swallowed to clear her throat.
‘Oh Robin, you cannot. You are my all. Everything I am, that I have, that I want, is you.’’ She swallowed another sob, but the tears were already brimming from her eyes and cascading down her cheeks onto her gown. Robert pressed her fingers and she kissed his hand again, trying but failing to prevent the tears and sobs escaping.
As her eyes frantically searched his face, she could see the moisture standing on his skin, yet the hand she held was curiously hot and dry. The heat from his skin made the scent from his shirt fill her nostrils with the familiar sandalwood and leather, and she pressed her lips together to still their trembling.
‘Lovely Lily.’ He sighed the words and Lettice held her own breath so she could hear. ‘Stay safe. Be happy. Promise me…….’ his shallow breath of air ran out again so she waited until he dragged another, ‘you will be happy.’ Lettice gave an incoherent wail at his words, but couldn’t make any response. She wiped her face with her fingers and tri
ed to find her voice, thick with tears and trembling.
‘Oh Robin.’ A sob and a whisper together, ‘Please try to get well. You must try, for me. You are all I ever wanted, from the first time I saw you, and all I will ever want. Stay with me, my love.’
Robert closed his eyes briefly as another pain came, this one severe enough to catch his breath in his throat, and Lettice again gave him a sip of ale with trembling hands. He relaxed against the pillows and shook his head briefly, trying to smile at her. Her heart was fluttering like a caged bird in her chest, and she longed to call for Thomas. She wanted to share this moment with someone whose presence had always given her strength but she didn’t dare take her eyes from Robert’s face.
‘I cannot, my love.’ He kissed her fingertips gently, a reminiscent whisper of his constant admiration, ‘I adore being a husband to you, Lily. You are …….’ he paused and drew another breath, shallower than the last, ‘astonishing, my only love.’
Lettice had no words to answer him. She couldn’t make her mind form any response that would adequately convey all she felt for him. She just sat there and shook her head as the tears dropped from her eyes, clutching his hand to her lips and resting her other hand on the silk of his shirt, over his heart.
‘Lily, my love. I swear........’ Lettice leaned forward to hear him above the pounding of blood in her ears and the rising scream in her throat. She swallowed her hysteria and held her breath as he drew another short gulp of air, ‘I will come for you……’
Robert’s voice faded away and he fell into a calm sleep. Lettice sat silently, ignoring her tears and clutching Robert’s hand to her cheek as she watched his powerful chest rise and fall, rise and fall ever slower until eventually it didn’t rise again.
Easing herself from the chair and untangling her fingers from Robert’s, Lettice walked to the door slowly, as if though water. She snatched the door open and fell forwards.
On the Altar of England (Tudor Chronicles Book 4) Page 38