The Betrayal

by Mary Hooper

  I nodded. ‘They are saying that although she wanted the Scottish queen dead, she didn’t wish to take responsibility for it.’

  ‘She did not. She wanted the deed done, but hoped that one of her ministers would undertake it and thus keep the blood from staining her hands.’ He shook his head. ‘No one was willing to do such a thing, however.’

  We began walking together, the horse clip-clopping behind us. ‘And with the death of the Scottish queen, what of Mistress Juliette?’ I asked. ‘Need we have bothered ourselves with her?’

  Tomas nodded assuredly. ‘’Tis excellent news that she’s out of the way, for our queen’s enemies remain her enemies, even with Mary dead. All their efforts will now be focused on putting her son James on the throne.’

  I hesitated, but could not resist asking if the late queen had gone to her death in a dignified and queenly manner, for this had been a question much asked about at the palace.

  ‘She did,’ Tomas answered, nodding. ‘She was composed and calm, and carried a crucifix – or so said a third messenger who arrived after the others. She freely forgave her executioner, and prayed throughout her last moments in Latin.’ He hesitated, then went on, ‘When she removed her outer garments so as not to impede the axe, she was wearing a satin bodice and petticoat of scarlet, the colour of Catholic martyrdom.’

  I was silent, thinking about this sad lady for a moment. I offered up a prayer for her soul, yet could not feel sorrow, for she’d been an enemy to our queen and would have usurped her if she could.

  We neared Ludgate, where a small crowd of people had gathered, waiting to be allowed into the city. Some had obviously been out all night celebrating the news, others were peddlers with full trays, or goodwives with baskets of eggs ready to sell at the street markets. All were avidly discussing the happenings, for the royal story had crossed London in a trice.

  Tomas looked to the east and pointed out the smudgy pink streaks in the sky. ‘’Tis not long until dawn,’ he said. ‘Are you cold?’

  I was about to say no, but thought how nice it would be to have Tomas make a little fuss of me. I therefore affected a shiver or two until he, smiling, took off his cape and placed it around my shoulders. We looked into each other’s eyes as he did so and – his face only an inch or two from mine – I held my breath. But then a hearty man with a fat piglet under each arm poked Tomas in the back, and the moment passed.

  ‘We’ll do well at market today, for people will be all for celebrating!’ the man said. ‘A roast suckling pig is an asset to any table, high or low. I only wish I had six of the beauties!’

  ‘Indeed,’ Tomas said politely, while I silently wished the man on the other side of the moon.

  After that there were no more quiet moments, for two rival balladeers arrived at the gate, each with a pile of newly printed song-sheets selling at a penny each. One song was entitled The joyful demise of the Queen of Scotland and the other Our gracious lady saved! Each man set about singing his ballad with much gusto, causing several people living in the nearby houses to fling open their windows and shout a protest.

  The sun came up, the streets grew lighter and more people arrived: sweeps, carpenters, milkmaids, carters, street-sellers and all the trades and, the gate being opened, we all went through. My feet trudged ever more slowly and Tomas offered to take me pillion on the horse but because that would have meant us reaching Green Lane more quickly, I refused. I didn’t wish to say farewell to Tomas just yet, to have to explain myself to Dr Dee – or indeed want this strange night ever to end. We walked side by side, therefore, until the house came into view. Here Tomas tied the horse to a tree, gave a coin to a street-lad to mind it and said he’d accompany me to the door.

  All was quiet upstairs and the curtains were closed, but downstairs I could hear – I was sure I could hear – Mistress Midge cursing as she swept the hallway.

  ‘There’s something I must say,’ Tomas declared as we reached the front door, and before I had time to prepare myself for bad tidings, went on, ‘I’m sorry I ever doubted you about Mistress Juliette, and I apologise for imagining that jealousy played a part in your actions. When I learned a little more about her, I should have taken you into my confidence. I’m sorry for that also.’

  I dipped my head in acknowledgement – and forgave him, of course.

  ‘And the other thing I have to say …’ Tomas began, and just then the front door opened and Mistress Midge appeared with the house-broom and swept a flurry of dust into the street and over our shoes.

  ‘Good Lord alive!’ she said, looking at us, astonished. ‘What are you doing out there so early?’

  ‘I haven’t come home yet,’ I said.

  ‘Of course!’ She clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘The Queen of Scotland! Is it true?’

  ‘It is,’ Tomas answered.

  ‘Then that’s rid of her and I’m blessed glad of it!’ She gave our shoes a cursory brush-over with her broom and, after winking at me, went back inside.

  We laughed at this, but then Tomas regained his serious manner. ‘I’ll wait here until Dr Dee rises,’ he said. ‘I must tell him that you’ve been out on the queen’s business and ensure you’re not in any way reprimanded. And one other thing …’ He reached into the pocket of his breeches and pulled out a linen kerchief. ‘I was with the Lord Chamberlain at some point last night; he had two or three little objects in his purse which the queen intended to present to those who’d served her well.’

  I gave a gasp of excitement, for I hadn’t thought he or anyone else would have remembered. ‘I’m most honoured,’ I said, and touched the bare spot at my neck where my groat had always hung. ‘Is it a necklace?’

  Tomas shook his head. ‘’Tis a ring.’ He brought it out, gave it a little polish on his sleeve and handed it to me. ‘It bears a little cameo of the queen, as you see.’

  I stared at the pretty thing, delighted. ‘Will you set it on my finger?’ I asked.

  Tomas nodded. I held out my left hand and he slipped it on the smallest finger. As he did so, an image suddenly came into my head: a church interior, viewed from above; a circular window of stained glass; shiny brasses set into the floor and blue and white flowers in tall vases. Tomas and I were standing before a black-clothed clerical gentleman, and Tomas was slipping a gold ring on to my wedding finger. So clear, so unexpected was this image that I clapped my hand to my mouth in surprise.

  ‘What is it?’ Tomas asked.

  I blinked and the image disappeared. To be stored in my heart. ‘’Twas nothing,’ I said, for there are some things that a maid should keep to herself.

  ‘Your face is flushed, your cheeks have gone quite pink.’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

  Laughing, he pulled me towards him and kissed me full on the lips. This did not seem as if it was going to be a brief kiss, so I was venturing to kiss him back when the front door opened again, and there stood Merryl and Beth in the doorway in their nightdresses.

  ‘Mistress Midge said …’ Merryl began, then stopped, shocked, at the sight of us.

  Beth gasped. ‘So, is it true? Is Tomas your sweetheart? I think you ought to tell us.’

  I stared at them, flustered, not really knowing what to say.

  ‘Yes, he is,’ Tomas said to them very amiably and sincerely. He glanced at me. ‘That is, if she would like him to be.’

  I nodded slowly, smiled and said, ‘Yes, Tomas, she would like that very much.’

  Some Historical Notes from the Author

  The Queen and Her Suitors

  This book is set in 1587, the year of the execution of Mary, Queen of Scots, but for dramatic purposes, some historical details surrounding this date have been changed. At this time, the start of the second half of Elizabeth I’s reign, her ministers had not given up hope that she would marry and even, perhaps, provide the heir that England needed. Various suitors came from all over Europe and the queen, while accepting their gifts and their professed love, pla
yed one off against the other, trying to gain the best deal for England and also foreign support in the event of a war. She actually exchanged rings with the French Duke of Anjou, but her ministers were not happy that she was marrying a Frenchman and a Catholic (also, he was seventeen years younger than her), so eventually it came to nothing. For the rest of her life the queen was to enjoy the company of men and always had her (usually younger) favourites.

  Mary, Queen of Scots

  Mary was cousin to the queen and had a good claim to the throne. She and her supporters were thorns in Elizabeth’s side for most of her reign. Various plots to unseat the Protestant Elizabeth and replace her with the Catholic Mary were hatched and discovered (sometimes by one of Sir Francis Walsingham’s team of spies) throughout Elizabeth’s reign. A letter, signed by Mary, was discovered calling for Elizabeth’s death (although Mary later said that the death threat was added after the letter had left her hands) and the queen was persuaded to sign her cousin’s death warrant. When the execution was carried out, however, Elizabeth burst into a passion of crying and said that although she had signed the warrant, she had not meant to have it done.

  Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester

  The queen showered titles on Robert Dudley, who was long held to be her lover (though no proof either way exists). Her ministers didn’t approve of him, however, calling him ‘the Gypsy’ because he was brown from being in the open air and was comparatively low-born. His first wife died in strange circumstances and then, some years later, he got tired of being kept on a string by Elizabeth, and married the Countess of Essex, one of the royal ladies-in-waiting. No courtiers were quite brave enough to tell Elizabeth of this, and tradition has it that she was eventually informed of it by one of her thwarted suitors in a fit of jealousy. The newly-weds were banned from court immediately and, although the queen later relented and allowed Robert Dudley back, she never received his wife, whom she nicknamed ‘the she-wolf’.

  The Real Dr Dee

  Dr Dee was a mathematician, linguist and scholar – but it seems that he was also very gullible. Kelly, his ‘scryer’, purported to speak to angels who gave him details of how to turn base metal into gold (by using the so-called ‘philosopher’s stone’), but unfortunately these details were in a strange angelic language which could never be properly deciphered. Dr Dee spent most of his life waiting for the queen to endow him with a proper title and a paid position, but this never happened. Apart from a spell in Poland, he lived in Mortlake next to the church, where he owned a huge library of books on matters magical, spiritual and mathematic. He was born in 1527 and died in 1608 (five years after the queen), reportedly penniless. Some say that Dr Dee lives on in Shakespeare’s portrayal of Prospero, the magician in The Tempest, probably written in 1610.

  The Ladies-in-Waiting

  These ladies, and the more intimate maids of honour, formed an elegant and decorative backdrop to the person of the queen, providing support, entertainment, advice and good company for Her Grace. Girls from titled families sometimes entered the Court aged about twelve and, after serving the queen for a number of years, were found suitable husbands. The queen, being unmarried herself, didn’t approve of marriage for all, however, and was known to punish her ladies by sending them temporarily to the Tower of London if they fell in love with someone she didn’t approve of – or someone whose attentions she wanted for herself.

  The Elizabethan Court

  The Court exercised a magnetic attraction for people; courtiers were the A-list celebrities of the day. It was the centre of affairs, the very heart of patronage and power. People visiting would spend a fortune on their outfits in the hopes of being noticed; being spoken to by Her Grace was the ultimate accolade.

  The queen and her Court moved palaces every few months in order that the buildings could be aired and freshened after their occupation. In summer, they also went ‘on progress’, visiting the houses of the wealthiest subjects, who would spend an astonishing amount of money refurbishing, rebuilding and providing extravagant diversions and attractions: plays, masques, music, fireworks, bear-baiting, jousting and dancing, in order to entertain the queen and her Court. One titled courtier even dug up his grounds to provide a lake for a lavish water pageant, which featured little boats sailing between miniature islands.

  The Banqueting Hall at Whitehall

  As if the hundreds of rooms that the palace contained were not enough, in 1581 Elizabeth ordered the construction of a ‘canvas and wood’ temporary banqueting hall. (In Tudor times, ‘banqueting’ meant the final dainty sweetmeats you would eat after a meal.) The building sounded very beautiful; garlanded with swags of flowers, decorated with trees in tubs and lit by candles. In 1609 King James had it replaced by a permanent structure, but this burned down ten years later.

  Playgoing

  The Theatre and the Curtain at Shoreditch opened around 1576 and are generally held to be the first theatres in England. They proved popular, and several companies were formed to act in them, including the Queen’s Men, the Lord Chamberlain’s Men (Shakespeare’s company) and the Admiral’s Men. They all poached each other’s best players and most popular plays. Shakespeare was probably not in London at this time but The Two Gentlemen of Verona and The Taming of the Shrew were held to be his first plays, written in the late 1580s. James Burbage was a leading actor-manager and theatre owner, and was succeeded by his son Richard, who became even more famous. Until Charles II came to the throne, there were, of course, no female actors.

  Mistress Midge’s Mice Recipe

  A typical sixteenth-century gingerbread recipe would have consisted of stale white breadcrumbs mixed with grated ginger and red wine, moulded into shapes and dried in a warm oven. This is a modern version.

  Ingredients:

  110 g margarine

  100 g sugar

  120 ml black treacle

  1 egg yolk

  250 g plain flour, sifted

  2 g baking powder

  1 g ground cinnamon

  2 g ground cloves

  2 g ground nutmeg

  2 g ground ginger

  For decoration:

  Currants

  String

  Directions:

  1. In a large bowl, cream together the margarine and sugar until smooth.

  2. Stir in the treacle and egg yolk.

  3. Combine all the other ingredients and blend into the black treacle mixture until smooth.

  4. Cover and chill the dough for at least one hour.

  5. Preheat the oven to 175 °C (350 °F / gas mark 4).

  6. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out to 5 mm thick.

  7. Cut the dough into mouse shapes, add currants for eyes and string for tails.

  8. Bake 8-10 minutes on greased baking sheets in the preheated oven, until firm.

  9. Remove the mice from the baking sheets to cool on wire racks.

  Tussy-Mussies

  These sweetly scented nosegays were popular accessories in the sixteenth century, when ladies would carry them to sniff if confronted with any foul smells. Some even believed that breathing through the mixture of flowers and herbs would keep the owner from breathing in germs or disease and act as a plague preventative. Later, tussy-mussies were given amongst friends for the meanings bestowed on individual plants (for instance, using scarlet geraniums denoted ‘comfort’).

  To make:

  A suitable tussy-mussy for a maiden would be a central bloom of a large pink rose (pure and lovely) encircled with contrasting flowers and leaves of mint (virtue), sage (domestic virtue), forget-me-nots (true love), golden marjoram (blushes), lime blossom (conjugal love) and rosemary (remembrance).

  Bind the stems with florist’s tape as you go to keep the posy tight and finish the edges with a large-leafed herb (like lady’s mantle) to emphasise the round shape.

  Glossary

  coffer – a box or chest for keeping valuables

  coxcomb – a foppish fellow; a conceited dandy

  equerr
y – an officer in the royal household

  farthingale – a hoop or framework worn under skirts to shape and spread them

  frowsy – unkempt; of shabby appearance

  galliard – an athletic dance characterised by leaps, hops and jumps. A favourite dance of Elizabeth I

  gee-gaw – decorative trinket; a bauble

  groat – English silver coin worth four old pence, used from the fourteenth century to the seventeenth century

  harridan – a woman with a reputation for being a scold or a nag

  horn book – early primer showing alphabet, etc., consisting of a wooden board protected by a thin sheet of cattle horn

  kennel – a rough drainage channel for street waste-water and rubbish

  kirtle – the skirt part of a woman’s outfit. During this time everything (skirt, bodice, sleeves and ruff) came separately and were pinned together during dressing

  litter – a man-powered form of transport, consisting of a chair or couch enclosed by curtains and carried on a frame or poles

  lying-in – the period just before and after a woman’s confinement during childbirth

  malmsey – a sweet wine

  marchpane – the old word for marzipan

  masque – festive courtly entertainment which might include singing, dancing or acting

  pattens – overshoes held on to feet by leather bands to elevate the feet and aid walking in the mud

  porringer – a shallow dish or cup, usually with a handle, and used for eating soup, stews or porridge

  prink up – to dress oneself finely; to deck out and preen oneself

  Rhenish – a dry white wine