by G Lawrence
De Quadra stared at me, aghast. What a pleasure it was to see him so uncomfortable! “Although I am sure that no action you have taken was done with malicious intent, there are others who might use your words against you,” I continued. “We are done here, ambassador.” I waved at Kat to lead him out. When she returned, I allowed myself to laugh.
“What a pompous old fool that man is, Kat!” I chuckled. “He always enters as though he is the Emperor of the world.”
“And leaves like a failed jester, booted from the door!” Kat finished for me.
“More fool him for thinking he could best me in a battle of wits,” I said, shaking my head. “More fool anyone who thinks thus.”
Cecil was delighted at the outcome. De Quadra was admonished, the nuncio was banned, and Robin had failed. Robin went about, unsure how much I had discovered of his scheming, and unsure of himself. This also pleased Cecil. My emotions were more complicated. Although I could find no evidence that Waldegrave and his priest had been set up, Cecil’s willingness to use my Catholic subjects in such a way was troubling. I was also saddened by Robin’s betrayal, although I have to admit I had somewhat enjoyed the game against him, particularly since I had won this match.
And still the rumours continued that I would marry Robin, even though the thought of giving myself to a man who was willing to work against me for his own ambition was becoming not only impossible to me, but distasteful as well. It goes to show how people will look on a situation from the outside and believe they know all that is going on underneath. It is like gazing on a river, believing you can see all the life within it from a cursory glance over the ripples on the top of the water. You do not see the milling shoals of fish, the brown billowing weed floating in the water’s tide… You do not see the little shrimp that bobs along the sandy bottom, nor the bright kingfisher as he flashes through the water in hunt of prey. People believed they knew all that was between Robin and me, but they did not. They could not see the sorrow he had carved into my soul or the pain and distrust I now carried.
But I loved him. Of course I did. No one can hurt another so keenly unless there is love between them. I decided I had hurt him enough. His plans had failed and he was downcast. I felt the urge no more to move against him. I simply wanted us to be reconciled, but I knew not how to go about this.
We had replaced open love with secret war. And the games were not yet over.
Chapter Nineteen
Whitehall Palace
Spring 1561
I had been rather preoccupied with all that had gone on of late, so when Katherine Grey began behaving oddly again, at first I barely noted it. It was only as she became increasingly clumsy and started to stare off into empty space, when I began to take note.
“What is wrong with the girl?” I murmured to Kat after Katherine upset a tray of kissing comfits all over the floor. Although they were retrieved quickly by Katherine and her sister, Mary, the accident left small lumps of sticky sweetness upon my expensive carpet which the maids were now attempting to remove with damp bread. “Is it the death of her friend which causes such clumsiness?”
“She is distracted recently,” Kat agreed. “I believe she is pining for Hertford, Your Majesty, and of course she grieves for Jane, as we all do.”
“I have many sorrows in my own life, of late, Kat, and I do not spend my time staring off into space and throwing sweets all over the chamber of my mistress!”
“You have no mistress, madam,” Kat replied with a grin. “I was on the path to delve more deeply into Katherine’s doings, and then the troubles with John and Lord Robin arose… I admit I have let my duties to you slip, Majesty.”
“It is understandable, Kat,” I said, putting my hand to her arm. “With so much on your mind.”
“You just said the opposite about Katherine, my lady,” Kat pointed out, her wry smile spreading up her face.
“Whatever is troubling the girl it is hardly life and death, is it?” I asked. We allowed the conversation to end, as I was due at a meeting of my Privy Council, but as it would later appear, I was not entirely right in my last criticism of my cousin Katherine.
*
As Easter approached, I undertook a sacred and ancient right of English kings and took part in the Maundy ceremonies. It was traditional for the kings of England to take on the role once assumed by Christ, with his disciples, and wash the feet of common people. It was an imitation of the humility of Christ, which was why I did it. But to Catholics, who had long held the ritual dear, it was also a sign, especially important in light of the late troubles with Waldegrave, that I was not unsympathetic to the practices of the Catholic faith.
On the Thursday before Good Friday, I entered the great hall at Whitehall, where poor women had been gathered for me to wash their feet. I knelt before them, washing their feet in a silver bowl, using silver goblets to pour water over their skin. I drank to each of them in turn, offering them my blessing. Each was given one of my old gowns, and the cup I had used to anoint their feet, as well as a gift of money. In the afternoon, at St James’s Palace, I stood before crowds of thousands as my women distributed smaller gifts of money to them in my name. Whether Catholic or Protestant, my people cheered on this act of generosity. It was not, however, so popular at court.
Many in my Council, Cecil in particular, did not like my participation in such rituals, which kept alive the kind of superstitious rites they were trying to move England away from. But to me, it was another way of keeping the peace. Whilst I could not allow all people to do as they willed in England in terms of faith, there was still room for their Queen to demonstrate she was sympathetic to the ancient ways her people adored. There needed to be a continuation of the old, within the new, in order to persuade some into the light of the English Church, and not make my Catholic, or more traditional subjects, desperate, and therefore rebellious. By moving carefully, respecting people’s devotion to events such as the Maundy Day ceremony, I was placating those who still harboured the Catholic faith. English Catholics were my subjects as much as the Protestants and I wanted them both to love me. I was accused of hesitancy and indecision for keeping some of the old ways alive, but it was not so. I wanted both sides of the Christian faiths to understand that they could live in peace here in England.
Perhaps the most important part of this moderate, middle way was that despite numerous urgings from my Privy Council, I had not made the nobility of England swear the Oath of Supremacy. Perhaps that sounds insane, for all bishops, priests and public servants had to swear, along with scholars and tutors, if they wanted to keep their posts, but it was a calculated move on my part. If I did not make my nobles swear, then those who were still Catholic in their hearts would not be forced to choose between me and Rome. My belief was that if nobles were not forced to choose, then I could have no rebel lords, with men and money at their disposal, feeling themselves forced to take up arms against me for their faith.
I was a pragmatist. I wanted peace, for peace is more productive than war. Religion had brought much strife, division and bloodshed over the years. I wanted this to end in my reign. I would give the Catholics some of the rites they had loved and honoured, amongst the new light of the Protestant faith.
I was determined to be lenient, and whilst there came a time, later on, when I could not afford such grace, at that time I still had hope that we could live side by side, and worship God together, as a united people.
Chapter Twenty
Greenwich Palace
Summer 1561
That summer, we prepared to go on progress. Despite my troubles of late, or perhaps because of them, I was more eager than usual to leave and tour England. Quite apart from the need to cleanse London’s palaces, which after lengthy stays of the court became unpleasant, dirty and defiantly odious, it was a time to see my people and allow myself to be seen. I have learned that people are much more likely to think well of you, when gossip breaks, if they have met you.
Rumours continued that I would
marry Robin, and in public we were as we ever had been, but in private, we were distant. There was a voice within me which whispered I had always known that any man I chose to wed would attempt to control my political power, and my personal choices. That was my greatest fear about the state of marriage, and Robin was proving me correct.
Before we left, I made plans and heard petitions of where to visit on progress from various lords and towns. Nils Goransson Gyllenstierna, Lord Chancellor of Sweden and ambassador to King Erik of Sweden arrived at court to try to woo me for his master… again. With relations a trifle chilly between Spain and England, after de Quadra’s suspected meddling in Catholic plots, many were eager to put forward Protestant Sweden as a suitor for my hand. The fact that I had already refused Erik countless times did not deter the young man. He believed he and I would make the perfect couple, and would forge a new, Protestant future between us for Europe. I have to admit, his poetic efforts were getting better, but there were times I still winced as I read one of his outbursts of love in poor verse.
Nils was a pleasant man. He was cultured and eager to make friends. He had a fine wit, dark hair and warm brown eyes. I had greatly enjoyed the company of Johan, Duke of Finland, when he had visited court too, and began to wonder whether I was drawn to the men of Sweden. They seemed ever-ready with a jape and happy to enjoy all that life offered. Idly remarking this to my women set off a volley of rumour that I was seriously interested in Erik, and even led, a little later that summer, to merchants making wedding souvenirs; sweet little medallions with my face and Erik’s on either side, in anticipation of a royal wedding soon to take place.
This was of benefit to me, and I encouraged the rumours, for I heard Erik had lately been glancing in the direction of my widowed cousin, Mary. I had no wish to lose a possible ally to her, although I doubted the match would ever take place. Mary wanted a Catholic husband, but there was always a possibility she might accept, and so I stole back Erik’s attention. He responded with enthusiasm. England was the bigger, richer country, and the better prize, no matter if my cousin was younger than me, and apparently breathtaking in her beauty. Marriage is so often not about love, as leverage, when made between royalty.
Just before progress, Robin put on an entertainment for the court; a feast, followed by a moonlit ride on barges along the River Thames. Although disappointed that his scheme with de Quadra had failed, Robin had not given up hope entirely and hoped to prove himself to me and to the court as a good prospect for marriage. After the feast, we made our way down to the waterfront at Greenwich. Soft-shuffling parties giggled in the velvet darkness, jostling together, chattering with excitement. This was an unusual entertainment. Trust Robin to come up with something new for the court! I was feeling warm towards him that night. He had not sought to bring up the subject of marriage once during the feast, or the dance which followed. I was looking forward to a night free of troubles as my party emerged from the palace and started to wander through the shadowy grounds of Greenwich.
The paths were lit with hundreds of glowing torches and shone with the hoary light of the moon. Ponds burned under the refection of the orange blaze of the torches. Flowers, now thick in the borders and gardens, bobbed in the night breeze and fluttered their pretty petals under the sparkling stars. Decorated boats waited to take us out onto the water. There was to be a display of fireworks, and barges carrying choirs would sing as our boats floated on the water.
Stepping onto my barge, I was discomforted to find Bishop de Quadra aboard. It would have been pleasant to have a night free of the man. I wondered if it was an oversight on Robin’s part, for he knew I detested de Quadra, but then I wondered if it was not. Even if they did not really like each other as friends, they had become allies. I wondered if Robin had brought him here for some purpose. I sighed inwardly. Still, I thought, if Robin is about to make a new move, then it will be good to know what it is. Does he think to move his Bishop against me? He shall find a Queen poised to counterattack…
Our boats headed out into the water. Bright coloured sails flapped and billowed in the breeze. I went to one end of the boat and sat on plump velvet cushions, watching the burning torches along the edges of the river illuminating the colours of the sails. Flashes of green, white, blue and red flickered past. The voices of the choirs rose over the noise of the city. As the fireworks began over the dark waters, shots of blue, yellow and green were reflected against the black depths our boats travelled upon. Robin came to sit beside me.
“You are enjoying the entertainment, Majesty?” he asked, handing me some hot wine. I sipped. It was watered and sweetened with honey and spice. Nutmeg and cinnamon quivered on my tongue along with flavours of blackberry and earth. On the barge was a coal brazier, to keep the wine warm. The air had an edge of sharp coldness, so the steaming cup was welcome.
“Indeed, my lord,” I agreed, glancing up as an explosion of light darted through the sky. The sound of sweet voices singing floated over the water and I could hear people laughing, joking and talking. Fireworks flashed bright and bold in the sky. Along the river, crowds of Londoners had gathered to watch. Children, sat upon the shoulders of their parents, pointed at the lights with tiny fingers, letting out squeals of surprise, delight and fear at the noise and the sights. It had the potential to be a good night, one of the most memorable entertainments at my court. “There have been other times in my life, Robin, when a ride in a boat was not such a party of pleasures. It is sweet to put aside such memories and replace them with new ones.” I smiled gently at my favourite, lifting the cup to my lips once more.
“De Quadra does not appear so happy,” Robin observed. He pulled a dour face, so like that of the ambassador, I had to take the goblet away from my mouth as I chortled.
“Hush, Robin, he will hear you.” I gazed with open affection at Robin. He was so handsome in the dappled light of the boat’s torches, with his dark hair set against the night’s sky. His eyes were lit with the flashes of brilliance in the skies above, and there was that naughty, mischievous look upon his features which I remembered well of old. When we were apart it was easier to be angry at him. But when he was with me… Ah, then, such resolutions were harder. It was difficult now to believe he could act as he had. It was tempting to gaze into those striking eyes and believe I would be the happiest woman in the world, if I married him.
“Perhaps we can enliven the ambassador, Majesty.” Robin sipped thoughtfully from his goblet. “What would cheer his spirits, do you think?”
“My immediate removal from the throne and sudden, gruesome death?” I suggested. Robin guffawed and snorted wine from his nose, making me giggle. Laughing together, like this… it was as though I had my friend back. My spirits lifted and my heart sang. It felt like the old days. De Quadra must have heard us, for he glanced over, and caught us staring at him. His face darkened, and he turned away.
“I don’t think it is possible to cheer the ambassador,” I whispered naughtily to Robin. “Perhaps this was the thirteenth labour of Hercules, never fulfilled; to discover the secret hiding place of de Quadra’s sense of humour.”
Robin reached into my sleeve and removed my handkerchief to wipe his face; an almost unconscious gesture of familiarity and one I did not mind at all. I was ready to forgive all, then. “Perhaps,” he said, wiping his chin clean of wine. He stood up abruptly, making me start.
“What are you doing?” I pulled at his doublet, trying to get him to sit down.
“I will ask de Quadra to marry us, Majesty.” Robin’s eyes were sparkling with mischief, but there was something else there too. I smiled at his jest, but I was uncomfortable. Here we are again, I thought. Just as I had been lulled into such sweet happiness… And with that thought all pleasure fell from me in an ungainly thump. Had Robin been attempting to lull me into this happy, friendly state? Had he been playing the good, merry and trusted friend, in order to spring this on me? Merriment slipped from my soul and my heart felt suddenly heavy and old. Had I ripped my heart from my
chest in that moment and thrown it overboard, I believe it would have sunk to the murky bottom of the river.
“Your Eminence!” Robin cried. The noise carried not only over our barge, but to those of others as well. On another boat, I saw Cecil look up from the conversation he was having with Master Francis Walsingham, a new arrival at court. Cecil frowned and muttered something to his companion. They chuckled softly; clearly Cecil believed Robin was drunk. I was not sure how much wine Robin had consumed, but he was swaying a little on his feet. Was he intoxicated, and this was why he was acting the fool? Was this also why he could not see the unhappiness in my strained smile?
Robin stood unsteadily, grinning wide at de Quadra. “My lord?” asked the ambassador.
“My Queen was pondering on how to best make you happy, Your Eminence, and I suggested it might please you to officiate at the marriage of her Majesty, for such an honour, no bishop would wish to pass over, is it not so?”
“I am not sure that the good bishop knows enough English to perform such a ceremony, Robin,” I said, rising and walking with my fixed smile frozen on my face. I stood a little away from him. The old Robin would have understood I wanted this discussion to end. This stranger wearing Robin’s face, however, did not.