The Complete Tudors: Nine Historical Novels

by Jean Plaidy

  The excitement of the meetings stimulated Robert. There were plots to be made in the precincts of St. Paul’s, plots to depose the Queen and put the Princess Elizabeth on the throne. Once she was there, the dull life would be ended. He would present himself to her and remind her that he had sworn to be her slave. It might not be long before she was his slave. What woman who had loved him had ever been able to escape from him? That masculine charm was irresistible to duchess and dairymaid; so should it be to Princess and Queen.

  Amy was fretful for him. Why did he stay so long in London? If he did not return she would die of melancholy. She would travel to London to see what detained him; she was longing for her Robert.

  He tried to soothe her with loving messages and with brief visits to Siderstern. He explained some of his plans. “You see, Amy, at Siderstern I am more or less dependent on your father. I like that not. I would wish to recover my inheritance.”

  “You will be in trouble again,” she said. “You will be sent to the Tower and I shall die.”

  Then he would be his gay self, enchanting her as he knew so well how to; he would play the passionate lover. “How could I tear myself away from you unless it were necessary! But this is important. We shall be rich again. We shall have power. I shall take you to Court with me, and your beauty will startle them all.”

  She believed him; and she longed to go to Court as Robert’s wife.

  When he left her he would leave her with happy dreams. She would see herself dancing at the Court balls, clad in velvet, stiff with jewels. She would lie on her couch eating the sweetmeats which she loved so well, lazily planning the future.

  Pinto would shake her head, and while she warned her mistress that she would grow very fat if she ate so many sweetmeats, she would be thinking that Robert was visiting a woman in London. Poor Pinto! She did not understand Robert. He was very ambitious, but he was content with his wife. Amy remembered the passion between them. But he had another love, it was true; the love of power, the longing to see his riches restored; and was that not natural in one so proud?

  But Pinto went on sorrowfully wondering. If Amy could not hold him when he was a simple country gentleman, how would she when he became the great man he intended to become?

  He came riding home from London one summer’s day. Amy saw him from her window, coming into the courtyard with his servants about him. Her heart fluttered. She was wearing an old muslin and she called frantically to Pinto.

  “Pinto, my lord is come. Quick…quick…”

  Pinto helped her to pull off the old muslin, but before she was in her cherry velvet he was in the room. He stood looking from her to Pinto.

  “Robert!” cried Amy.

  Pinto scarcely turned, because Pinto always pretended to be unaware of him. She would say: He may be the gay Lord Robert to others; they may tremble at the sight of him; but not Pinto. To Pinto he is just a man—no different from any other.

  Amy’s cheeks were first red then white; she was almost swooning at the sight of him. “Pinto…Pinto…look!”

  And he cried, his words mingling with his merry laughter: “Pinto, look! Lord Robert is here!”

  “A merry good day to you, my lord,” said Pinto, turning her head very slightly and making do with a nod instead of a curtsy.

  He strode toward them; he caught them both in his arms. He lifted them and kissed first Amy, then Pinto. Amy was blushing with pleasure; Pinto was prim with disapproval.

  “Now, Pinto,” he said, “get you gone, and leave a wife to her lawful husband.”

  “I’ll first see my mistress dressed,” said Pinto.

  “You’ll not!” he retorted. “For I like her best as she is.” And he took the cherry velvet and threw it to the other side of the room.

  Amy squealed in delight, and Pinto went sedately to the dress and, without looking round, picked it up and walked out of the room.

  Robert, laughing, began to kiss and caress Amy.

  “Robert!” she gasped. “No warning! You should have let me know.”

  “What! And give you time to send your secret lover packing?”

  Amy clung to him. Pinto often said that his constant references to Amy’s secret lovers worried her. It was as though, said Pinto, he would put bad thoughts into the head of an innocent girl. But Pinto was against him. Poor Pinto! Poor simple countrywoman, she had never really known a Court gallant; and such a man as Robert must seem to her full of a sinister strangeness.

  But why think of Pinto when Robert was here, glad to be home and full of passionate longing for his wife?

  But his high spirits did not endure.

  He and his brothers had been warned, he told her, that if they did not keep away from London, they would find themselves under arrest. The Queen’s agents had most seriously warned them that they must not forget that although they had been pardoned and had eluded the death penalty they still stood attainted of high treason. One false step, and they would again find themselves the prisoners of the Queen; and if they were once more in trouble, it was hardly likely that they could hope for their former good fortune to be repeated.

  Robert was thinking—as he often did—of the Princess who had so much to win, so much to lose, and who had survived most miraculously by waiting. He and she were young, and the Queen had played out her ridiculous farce of false pregnancy; it was clear that there would be no royal offspring.

  He longed to see Elizabeth. He made plans for breaking into her house either at Woodstock or Hatfield and presenting himself to her as her constant knight, her desperate lover who was ready to risk his life for a glimpse of her. But he quickly realized the folly of doing any such thing. He must wait, and waiting meant that he must endure the simple life and a return to the woman who was fast losing any power she had once had to attract him.

  He was exasperated often and there were quarrels which reached their climax in her peevish reproaches. But always he could sweeten her when he wished to do the sweetening. Often he wished that she were not so madly in love with him. Even when he was harsh with her, when he took her clinging hands from about his neck and put her from him, even when he cried out that he had been a fool to marry her, still she came back whimpering for more love or more rough treatment. There was about him—whatever his mood—that ever-present fascination which could not fade. His power was in his person—the tall slim figure, the powerful shoulders, the haughty set of his well-shaped head, the strong features, the flashing eyes, the air of extreme masculinity, the curling mustaches and pointed beard, the blue-black hair, the arrogant, careless charm; and above all perhaps the certain assurance that there was only one thing on Earth which Robert Dudley could not do, and that was make women cease to love him.

  Amy had to accept his carelessness, his philandering; all she asked was that he should stay with her and give her some of his attention.

  But he was, of course, impatient to leave her; he was longing for adventure and excitement, and when, after two and a half years of this unsatisfactory existence, Philip of Spain persuaded Mary to join in war against France, Robert seized the opportunity as heaven-sent.

  When St. Quentin fell to the English and Spanish soldiers under Philip, Henry Dudley met his death. Robert was complimented on his bravery which was so marked that Philip himself sent for him to thank him and tell him that he had played no small part in the victory.

  In the King’s quarters on the French battlefield the two men faced each other—the trim little Spaniard with the fair hair and the blue eyes, and the powerfully built black-haired Englishman.

  Robert could not resist the thought which occurred to him: If strangers had come into the tent and were asked which was the King and which the commoner, it was not difficult to guess what their answer would be. Kings should tower above their subjects as great Henry had over his.

  But the mild young man, who was heir to more than half the world, had a kindly smile for the handsome beggar.

  “Your Majesty,” said Robert kneeling, “you sent fo
r me.”

  “Rise, my lord,” said Philip. “I know of your circumstances. Now that the battle is won you have my leave to return to England if you wish to go.”

  “Retire, Sire! With the French in flight and Paris open to your Majesty’s armies!”

  Philip shook his head. “I have seen sights this day which have sickened me of war. We shall stay here. It would be unsafe to go on to Paris.”

  Robert said nothing. A wise man did not argue with Kings. Not to seize the opportunity of marching on Paris would surely be the biggest mistake that had ever been made; but it was not for a penniless lord to tell a commander that.

  Philip said: “You have displeased the Queen.”

  “Your Majesty, I am the son of my father. I obeyed my father, as it seemed to me a son should.”

  Philip nodded. “You were right in that.”

  “And now, your Majesty, it is my earnest wish to serve the Queen.”

  “I believe you,” said Philip. “And because you have proved this by your conduct on the battlefield, I will give you a letter which you may take to the Queen from me. In it I am telling her of your conduct.”

  Robert fell onto his knees and kissed Philip’s hand.

  “I have asked her to be kind to you,” said Philip. “You may prepare at once to leave for England.”

  Robert remained kneeling while he expressed his gratitude and his desire to serve with his life the titular King of England.

  Philip smiled wanly and dismissed him; and Robert lost no time in setting out; and while he urged his horse onward, while he waited for the boat which would carry him to England, he was filled with joy because the first step was taken.

  There was much excitement at the Manor of Hatfield. The Queen was very sick and it was many months since her husband had visited her.

  Elizabeth now had some of her old servants with her besides Kat Ashley and Parry; she was still guarded although she was allowed to hunt the buck in Enfield Forest. Spies surrounded her; and she knew that all her actions were reported to the Queen’s ministers.

  Gardiner was dead, and that was the greatest relief she had had for a long time. Her hopes had never been so high. Already ladies and gentlemen were coming to her and asking for a place in her household, for they knew now that the Queen would never bear the child she longed for. But after Philip’s second visit she had declared herself to be again pregnant.

  Then Elizabeth shut herself up with Kat and demanded that the cards be read. Kat declared that the cards told her there was no child in the Queen’s body; there was nothing but the delusions in her head. Elizabeth had commanded that certain astrologers be brought to her; they came in the guise of servants, and much trouble that had caused, the gentlemen eventually being taken and tortured in the Tower, and the Princess herself put into great danger which might have cost her her head but for the calm answers she gave.

  The weeks would have been tedious without Kat’s gossip. Elizabeth liked to talk of the Queen’s husband and how his eyes gleamed when they rested on her, and how she was sure that he had wished she were the Queen.

  “Mayhap one day,” said the frivolous Kat, “we shall have the King of Spain asking for your hand in marriage.”

  “What! Marry my sister’s widower! Never. Remember the trouble my father had through marrying his brother’s widow.”

  “Well, the King of Spain is not so handsome as some gentlemen. There is one in particular…. I was thinking of that dark young gentleman who haunts our cards, my lady.”

  Then Elizabeth would talk of the days she had spent in the Tower, embellishing her adventures as Kat loved to garnish her stories. It was like putting the flavor into a tansy pudding, Kat always said when caught in an exaggeration; and what would tansy pudding be without its flavor?

  Marriages were proposed for the Princess. Philibert’s name came up again. Philip wished her to marry that man. Then there was Prince Eric of Sweden, whose father was eager for the match with his son.

  Elizabeth resisted: “Never, never, never! To leave England? Never would I be guilty of such folly.”

  “And why should King Philip, being so enamored of your fair person, so passionately wish for your marriage with Philibert?” demanded Kat slyly.

  “Stupid Kat! Do you not understand his cunning? Philibert is his vassal. Philip does not know how sick Mary is. He cannot wait for me. He wants me near him—as I should be if I went to Savoy.”

  “He seemed such a cold, passionless man.”

  “You did not see him when he was with me.”

  She always had an answer ready; and if she was often frivolous and coquettish, when danger approached she was as alert as a jungle animal.

  But now the dangers were less acute. Even the Queen could no longer believe in her second false pregnancy. Philip, it was said, would never come back to her; and her days were numbered. Never had hopes at Hatfield been as high as they were that summer and autumn.

  One day a young man came to Hatfield and asked for an audience of the Princess; and when her attendants asked his name he answered: “Lord Robert Dudley.”

  When Elizabeth heard that he had come, her eyes sparkled and she demanded that a mirror at once be brought to her.

  “Bid him wait awhile,” she told her women. “Tell him I have some business to attend to before I grant him an interview.”

  And the business was to be alone with Kat, for only Kat must see the excitement which possessed her.

  “Kat…my emeralds! How do I look?”

  “Never more beautiful, Your Grace.”

  “I cannot receive him in this gown.”

  “Why not?” said Kat artfully. “He is only a lord recently free from the taint of treason.”

  “Not treason to me, Kat. And I speak of dresses. Let us have the one with the green thread work. Hurry. He is a most impatient man.”

  “As impatient to see you as you are to see him, my lady.”

  “I am not so impatient that I cannot pause to change my dress.”

  “Now have a care, my lady. Have a care. You are not yet Queen of England, and the man’s an adventurer.”

  “I am an adventuress, Kat, and adventurers are the men for me. My coif.”

  “You are beautiful, dearest, but ’tis not the emeralds nor the gown nor the coif that make you so. ’Tis the joy bubbling within you. Have a care. Remember Thomas Seymour.”

  “I’m older now, Kat. I’m almost a Queen now. And he is not Thomas. Tell them to send him to me.”

  He came and knelt before her, keeping her hand in his while he raised his ardent eyes to her face.

  She is not Queen yet, thought Kat; but you believe she will be, my lord. Oh, my love, take care. He is too handsome, this man. There is too much fascination there. Even I go weak to contemplate it.

  “It is good of you to come to see me, my Lord Robert,” said Elizabeth with cool dignity.

  “Good!” His voice had a ringing tone, and all the confidence in the world. “The goodness comes from Your Grace because you have permitted me to wait upon you.”

  She laughed. “Many people wait upon me now, Lord Robert. A short while ago they did not come to Hatfield.”

  “Might it not be that they stayed away for fear of putting a fair and gracious lady into danger?”

  “Or themselves?” she suggested. “But I hear you have recently returned from France, in which land you did splendid service to our country; so we could not accuse you of cowardice, eh?”

  “Yet it was fear that kept me from Hatfield ere this—fear of what an impulsive action might mean to one whose safety is of greater account to me than my own. Could I have speech with Your Grace alone?”

  “My lord, indeed not! Could I, a young and unmarried woman, be left alone with a man of…forgive me, my lord, but these tales reach us…a man of your reputation with my sex? Kat Ashley will stay. She is my very good servant and friend.”

  Robert appeared uneasy. Kat Ashley was not noted for her discretion. But the Queen was on the poin
t of death and Elizabeth was all but on the throne; he need not be too concerned about the gossiping Ashley. Moreover he knew that his lot was cast with the Princess. Her failure would be his; as would her triumph. There comes a time in the life of an ambitious man when he must openly show which side he is on. But if only he could be alone with her, what weapons would be his! How far might he not go at one meeting! Did she know this? Was she, the young woman who had faced Gardiner and his like with calm courage, afraid of Robert Dudley’s potent charm?

  He said almost sullenly: “It seems my fate never to be near Your Grace.”

  She liked such sullenness. It was manna to her. He was comparing Kat with the prison bars. Elizabeth felt dizzy with pleasure. Yes, she must keep herself aloof until she grew accustomed to such intoxication.

  “You forget my position, my Lord Robert,” she said, taking refuge from her feelings behind her royalty. “Now tell me why you have come to see me.”

  He lifted hurt and angry eyes to her face. “Your Grace must have known that I would present myself at the earliest possible moment.”

  “Is this the earliest possible moment? How should I know that?”

  “I had believed there was a deep and lasting friendship between myself and Your Grace.”

  “Ah yes. We have both suffered, have we not? Come, cheer up, my lord. I know you for my friend.”

  “I have brought proof of that friendship.”

  He laid two bags at her feet.

  “What are these, my lord?”

  “Gold. You say I may speak freely. Well, I will do so. Many, you say, come to pay you homage. Since the Queen has grown so sick, the roads to Hatfield are becoming congested. Dear lady, if the Queen should recover, the roads back to London will become even more congested, and if aught should go wrong Hatfield might again become a lonely prison.”

  “Aught go wrong?”

  “It is a dangerous world in which we live.”

  “You know of plots against me?”

  “I know of no plots. Do you think that any would confide them to me…the most staunch supporter Your Majesty…Your Grace ever had!”