by G Lawrence
“I have been thinking, Majesty, about trading houses with my cousin, Lord Dudley,” Robin mentioned idly. “I would like to reclaim my family’s ancestral seat, Dudley Castle, which as you know was granted to my cousin upon the fall of my father.”
It was all said in such an apparent careless manner… as though he were simply voicing thoughts aloud. And yet there was something artificial in his nonchalance; something that caused me to look on his gifts with less liking than before. In all times past, I had seen Robin’s gifts as presents given to please me. Now, I felt as though he was trying to buy my favour. I expected this from others but had not thought to expect it of him. The sheen suddenly slipped from his gifts. “And why would you chance upon this idea, now, Robin?” I asked, as we stood watching the dancers trip and prance through a volta.
“Perhaps it is just an urge I have, Majesty,” he said, his eyes wide with innocence. “To take back the ancient seat of my forebears.”
He was lying, and not doing a very good job of it. Robin had been relentless in his pestering about the earldom. I am sure he believed it was a done deal, even though I had not, as yet, said yes. For many weeks I had been of two minds. On the one hand I wanted to support Robin. Before I came to the throne, he had supported me with men and money. I had promised his offerings would come back to him threefold, and I intended to reward him still for past loyalty. But there were other considerations. The suspicion surrounding him was not yet dead and the reaction from my leaking the notion to the court had been unfavourable. My people might think I was elevating him to marry him, which would test their love for me… But above all these considerations, there was his late behaviour. I did not like this creature Robin had become. I did not like his lack of care, his endless whining and demanding, or the high pride with which he sauntered through court.
This idea to gain back his family seat was but a part of his grand plan, I was sure. It smacked of arrogance growing within my beloved that I liked not. He had grown lazy in my love. Over-confidence made Robin act as though I was something that could be picked up and put down when he felt like it. Was this how he had treated his wife? Suddenly I pitied Amy Dudley. Had she been treated carelessly, too, because he had been assured of her love? Was this how Robin treated love? With such reckless, heedless flippancy? He seemed to think he was the one in charge of me, rather than the other way around.
There were other issues which troubled me too. The Duke of Holstein had recently written me a letter. The Duke had long been a supporter and ally of mine, and we had exchanged letters and honours over the years. But of late, ill reports of me were gathering at his door. The first part of his letter commiserated on my late poor health. I was not actually ill. I was just still not eating a great deal. The court had secretly been commenting on how ill and wasted I looked. In alarm that they might begin to question my strength, and this might lead to my being pestered on marriage and the succession, or more seriously, that it might encourage my heirs or enemies to think of removing me, I had taken steps. I had ordered more cosmetics to be used to conceal my tired skin and ordered a gorgeous array of fine wigs to use. At the Christmas celebrations I danced with great vigour, so ambassadors could report to their masters how hale the Queen of England was. All well and good, but the second part of the Duke’s letter spoke with great alarm about rumours he had heard questioning my honour. There was gossip that I was intending to marry Robin as well as rumour we were already lovers. I had written back to the Duke, telling him I was not interested in marriage at all at this time, and asking him to try to believe the best of me.
The Duke’s letter and my growing concerns about Robin’s behaviour brought about my decision. It was not going to be one Robin would like, but he was overstepping his authority, and challenging mine. No Tudor has ever liked being told what to do and I was no exception. I made up my mind and decided to teach Robin a lesson. It was time for Robin to know what it was like to slip, just a little, from favour. If he were made less sure of his footing, perhaps he would have more care in considering the path he walked.
*
Plough Monday arrived, and with it came the end of the Christmas celebrations. People returned to work, readying the fields for the sowing of crops in a few months. The tradition of taking ploughs about local parishes to be blessed had been lately banned, since many thought it a rather heathen ritual. This did not stop the common people marking the event by dressing as fools, or with men dressing as women, and collecting money for the Church, or for the poor. Some of my Council wanted this banned too, but I allowed it to continue. It was but jesting and play and if it raised money for the poor, where was the harm? Plough plays went on and I allowed some to be performed at court, to demonstrate my support. My people loved this. There were some old customs I was moved to ban by my Council and Parliament, but in keeping parts of them alive, my people believed I was on their side. Of course, I wanted my people to be happy, but it is often beneficial for a queen to play both sides of a game… Then, she cannot lose.
Later that month, there was a meeting of the Privy Council, where the ceremony of investment for Robin was to be held. Although it may appear cruel, I had decided to make my point here, both to my people and to Robin. I sat before my Council with Robin beside me. He looked far too pleased with himself, too self-assured, too arrogant. I did not like this change of tunic; the scarlet of superiority did not become him. I had to bring him down, just a little. I had to teach him any advancement came from me, and therefore he should take more care of our friendship.
The matter of his ennoblement arose. Before the Council, I held the papers aloft, took my eating knife from my belt, and pierced the parchment where Robin’s ennoblement was laid out. Slowly, I ripped the blade downwards, tearing Robin’s dreams asunder. There was stunned silence.
“I love the house of Lords too well, my lords,” I said, staring coldly at Robin. “To have another Dudley placed there, since three generations have proved themselves traitors to my line.”
Robin stared at me, astonished and angry. “I would that you would not… censure me so, Majesty,” he stuttered. “In front of my lords and noble gentlemen.” His face was amazed, not only at my rejection of his request, but at my hard words. Never had I spoken of him in such a way before. I had always defended him about his family’s traitorous past. He stared, gaping like a herring, and then tore his eyes away from mine, glowering at the table as though he wished he could smash it to splinters. I watched him, seeing the heat on his cheeks and the shame on his face. I was sorry for causing him pain, but he had to understand that I was the one with the power here, not him. He had to understand he had failed in his duty to me. That he had hurt me. All the same, I reached out and touched his cheek.
“The bear and ragged staff are not so soon overthrown,” I said. And then lower, I whispered, “this is not the time, Robin.”
Robin did not dare snatch his face from my hand, but his eyes burned with malice. I dismissed the Council, allowing Robin to flee and lick his wounds in private. Rumours spread through court. Many believed I would abandon him entirely, but they were wrong. I had hurt him, shamed him in public. I could not allow him to continue as he was, but I was not about to give up on him. I hoped he would learn his lesson.
For his own good, I told myself, he needs to drop some of the high arrogance and pride which he carries upon those broad shoulders. Robin was gaining enemies faster than a greyhound races over heath and heather. This is for his own good, I told myself. And when he has had time to calm down, he will see his errors. He will come back and all will be as it was before.
I did not see Robin for some days. When I called him to attend upon me, he sent a messenger back saying that he was taken ill. I did not believe this was the truth. Robin was hurt. Perhaps he did not understand my reasons for disgracing him so publicly, but Robin needed to understand that he was not the master here… I was.
Give him time, Elizabeth, I counselled. Time to remember all you have done for him. Tim
e to remember how a good friend should act. I assured myself he would think on these matters and be struck with how badly he had behaved.
I assured myself in vain.
Chapter Fourteen
Greenwich Palace
Winter 1561
“I hear much whispering in my chambers of late, Kat,” I said as she helped me prepare for bed. Handing me a pot of chickweed balm to preserve my skin, Kat lifted her eyebrows. “Do you know what the whispers say?” I asked, smoothing the lotion onto my arms and rubbing it in. I required more and more potions and lotions these days to make myself appear as I had when first I came to the throne. Was it only four years ago? It was as though a lifetime had passed.
“You speak of Katherine Grey and her friend Jane?” Kat took the pot from me and started to smooth olive oil over my legs, tsking at my dry skin.
“Of whom else? They should learn to be more covert. Glancing around and scuttling off into corners is easily noted after a while. They will never be employed by Cecil at this rate.”
Kat’s hands moved up and down, massaging the oil into my skin. Her touch was gentle yet firm. It was soothing. “I will keep an ear out, my lady, but I suspect it is nothing more than another conversation on the many virtues of young Hertford’s fine legs.”
“Mmmm,” I muttered, unconvinced. “They seem rather animated in their discussions, Kat… Katherine and Jane.” I pulled a disgruntled face. “Although it is understandable, I do so wish the Seymour line would cease to name their daughters Jane… Although I loved my brother, his mother displaced my own. It seems unfitting I should have to go about my court with her ghost following me, reminding me at every step that even the highest and most powerful of queens can tumble from grace at any moment.”
As if I am not reminded of that enough by my Council, every day, I thought.
“Perhaps a royal decree, my lady?” Kat’s face was a blank mask of mock-seriousness as she glanced up at me, her hands slick with oil. “A proclamation banning all Seymours from naming their children after the most prodigious daughter of their house?”
“Perhaps I shall consider such an act indeed, Kat, and have it sent through Parliament, too. I shall have them all name their daughters Elizabeth, or Anne, and see how they like that!” We chuckled at the notion.
I breathed in. “Just keep an eye on them, will you? Ever since I elevated Katherine to the Privy Chamber she believes she will be named my heir. I don’t want anyone supposing I will do such a thing. The girl may well have little between her ears, but others have sought to use her for their own purposes. Remember de Quadra thinking of kidnapping her and marrying her to Don Carlos?” Kat nodded, wiping her hands on a cloth. “So I want to know what all this whispering is about. If she wants to be made heir, and is plotting to make it so, I need to know. If they are making plans with Jane’s brother, Hertford, I want to know that, too. Those two are far too close… and the way she simpers at him makes me want to stick my head in the privy until I pass out… If Katherine is up to anything with Jane, Spain, or with Hertford, I need to know.”
“I will ask Blanche to help,” said Kat. “She spent time with Dr. John Dee before he left for his travels, Majesty, and he instructed her in the mysteries of palm reading.”
“What has that to do with this?”
Kat smirked like a cunning weasel. “Perhaps I can persuade Blanche to carry out a special reading for Katherine, warning her of the perils of going against the wishes of her Queen.”
I chuckled. “Kat, you are a canny minx… And think you Katherine will fall for such a reading?”
“The girl is entirely credulous, my lady, and Blanche can be awfully convincing when she puts her mind to it.”
“As I well remember from Christmas. My chambers still echo with the screams of my ladies after you two terrorized them.”
Kat spoke to Blanche, and the plan went ahead. At a gathering in my chambers, Blanche read the palms of the other ladies for sport, promising them long lives, many children and, of course, handsome husbands. Eager to hear her fate, Katherine put her hand under the gaze of my oldest servant. Blanche stared at the lily-white palm for a moment. She leaned in, and narrowed her eyes. Then she drew back sharply with a shocked gasp as though she had seen something terrible. Lady Clinton, Katherine Knollys and Kat all leant in, inspecting Katherine’s palm. “What is it?” Katherine asked, bringing her hand swiftly up to her face to examine it, trying to glean what awful destiny Blanche had seen there.
Blanche paused, put her hand to her breast and regarded Katherine with grave eyes. “The lines say, madam, that if you ever marry without the Queen’s consent, you and your husband will be undone, and suffer a fate worse than that of your poor sister, Lady Jane Grey!”
Katherine was most upset by this fortune. She put a hand to her belly as though Blanche’s words had made her nauseous, but then seemed to right herself and shook her head. “I would never do such a thing,” she breathed. “The Queen knows of my love and respect for her. I would never seek to marry below me.”
“Or without her permission,” Mary Grey promptly added from behind Katherine, reminding her sister of the actual point of the prophesy.
“Or without permission.” Katherine’s words sounded strangled.
From the corner, where I sat playing two of my Besses at cards, I smiled. Looking at Bess St Loe, and Bess Parr, I caught them viewing my grin with confused faces. I beamed and tossed another coin gamely into the mounting pile. “I raise the stakes,” I said as the coin tinkled against those it joined. “For I believe I have the winning hand.”
Let that be a warning to you, cousin, I thought.
Chapter Fifteen
Greenwich Palace
Winter 1561
“Kat!” I shrieked, my voice high, shrill, and filled with anger as I marched into my Bedchamber. I was furious. As if I did not have enough to deal with, now there was another matter come to confront me!
“Madam?” Kat emerged from one of the side rooms, her face confused.
“Your husband has been banished from my court!” I narrowed my eyes, daring her to defend him. Kat was amazed for she knew how fond of John I was.
“What has John done to offend you, Majesty?” she asked carefully.
“Spoken many rude and ill words to Robin Dudley,” I said. “Insults said openly to his face, Kat! In front of the court! I will not tolerate such behaviour!”
Robin had come to me only moments before. At first I believed he wished to make things right between us, but instead this argument between him and John had emerged. I was angrier than I should have been. Fury, which had been directed at Robin, leeched out and spilled over John. Although I recognised it not at the time, I was also angry at myself for not putting matters right with Robin, leading me to overcompensate in my defence of him. John Ashley, Kat’s husband, had confronted Robin in public, and had made his feelings about my favourite clear as day for all the court to hear. This kind of public quarrel always annoyed me, for nobles and courtiers had dignity to maintain and an example to set… But today, hearing of this, I was wild with wrath.
“Overseeing court is like governing a gaggle of unruly goslings at the best of times!” I exclaimed, rounding on Kat and glaring at her as though she were responsible for her husband’s actions. “I will have no more of it. John is banished, and let that be a lesson to him and to any others who think they can do as they will!” I yanked my shawl from my aching shoulders. The cold wind had made its way into my muscles and made them sore. The pain was not helping my temper or patience.
“Majesty… If you would allow me to talk to my husband? It must be a misunderstanding…”
“It is nothing of the sort!” I threw my hands out, wrenching my shoulder. The sudden burst of pain made me grimace, but since my face was already soured by anger, Kat did not notice. “I am surrounded by people who all believe they should make the rules rather than I! I have banished John, and I will not forgive him for the insults he has thrown at Robin.”
I put a hand to my shoulder and pulled against it; red-hot pain protested against the motion.
Kat’s face assumed that expression all women recognise; a kind of weary annoyance, which comes of knowing and loving a husband only too well, and often being called to answer for them. “I know not what has occurred, Majesty, but John has always been your loyal supporter and friend. Perhaps you should call him here, to talk?”
“I have heard quite enough of John Ashley this day.” My tone was ominous. “Think yourself lucky that I do not banish you along with your unruly, ill-mannered husband!” I left for the privy gardens, leaving Kat staring after me in bewilderment. I was too far gone in rage to listen to Kat, and too irritated to remain in her presence.
As I stalked through the misty rain, reaching up to pull at my aching shoulder, Katherine Knollys and Lady Clinton trailed warily far behind me. I thought on John Ashley. Robin and John had exchanged harsh words about my favour for Robin. John had at first attempted to impress upon my favourite that my affection for him was standing in the way of my making a match with any other man, but this had descended, over a short space of time, to infantile name-calling and remarks of a derogatory nature on Robin’s heritage.