by G Lawrence
“Your Majesty, should you ever be desirous of my services, then I would be happy to learn,” de Quadra said.
“My thanks, my lord ambassador, but there is no need…” I was replying, even as Robin cut me off.
“Marry us here!” he cried, sweeping out the hand which held his wine, slopping it all over the deck. I believed then he was drunk indeed. “Marry me to the Queen now, my lord, and make me the happiest of men and my Queen the happiest of women!”
This Queen was hardly the happiest of women. There was something in Robin’s eyes I did not like. There was a wildness about him that night, a desperation. I could see how reckless he was becoming.
“Were Your Majesty to rid yourself of your Protestant advisors, and restore the Catholic faith to England, then I would be the happy to perform the ceremony.” De Quadra bowed, with a smirk on his lips as he eyed Robin.
“Then I must disappoint you twice, my lord ambassador.” I turned to de Quadra with my eerie smile. I had become one of my own portraits. Underneath that petrified smile I felt deeply uncomfortable and alone. The evening, which had started so beautifully, was now utterly soiled. I was repulsed by Robin. I had never felt that way before. “I will never send away men who have a use for me and my kingdom, lord ambassador,” I said to de Quadra. With a pointed glance at Robin, I made for the end of the barge where Kat and my ladies stood watching the explosions still resounding in the skies.
“I have a headache,” I announced. It was true as much as it was an excuse. The ache had grown as I talked to Robin and de Quadra. Robin was, quite literally, making me sick. “I wish to go to my bed.”
The other boats carried on along the river, but I ordered mine to return. Without another word to Robin, I left. My ladies were disappointed to leave earlier than expected, even though it was still past one of the morning, but I had to get away from Robin.
This was not the way to win my heart. This was the way to drive me away.
Chapter Twenty-One
Greenwich Palace
Summer 1561
“The Queen of Scots will receive no safe passage through my kingdom until she has ratified the Treaty of Edinburgh!” I announced to the shocked faces of my Council. Many of them looked taken aback that I should be so harsh in not offering safe conduct for Mary through England as she returned to Scotland, but in view of the fact that she would not complete our treaty, I could not allow her request.
“Make my royal cousin well aware, when you send word of this, that her refusal to ratify the treaty stands in the way of us ever becoming good friends, and sisters, as she professes she so wishes to be in all her letters,” I went on, my fingers taking up an unsteady refrain upon the armrest of my chair. “But as soon as she is willing to ratify the treaty, and shows goodwill to our nation and to me as her kinswoman, she shall find in me the very best of friends, allies, and sisters.”
Pembroke leaned forward, about to argue with me. “I have said all I will say on the matter, my lord,” I warned. “And now, to other business.” My Council did not look happy. My order was an insult, but in my eyes, Mary had insulted me by her stubborn refusal to complete the treaty.
“There is talk, madam, of a match between my son, Henry, Lord Herbert, and Lady Katherine Grey,” said Pembroke, sensibly abandoning the idea of talking with me about Mary. “Before anything is discussed further, I wanted to know your thoughts. Since Lady Grey is a ward of the crown, you are in essence her father, madam, and so it is from you I must gain permission for my son’s suit. I have no wish to offend, should the idea not be to your liking.”
My fingers drummed haphazardly on the table, making many of my men twitch. “Were they not once married before, my lord?”
Pembroke nodded. “When the lady’s sister, Jane Grey, married Guildford Dudley, my son was contracted to Katherine Grey,” Pembroke said. “But later, as times and politics changed, the contract was broken off. Since the marriage had not been consummated, both parties being too young, their union was annulled.”
I considered the idea. I liked Pembroke. Although he was a bit of a hot-head at times, and kept company with lords opposed to Robin, he was almost family, having once been married to Anne Parr, sister of my beloved stepmother, Katherine. Anne had died some years ago, but the bond remained. Pembroke had been one of my brother’s guardians, and Edward had liked him, and although Pembroke had supported Northumberland and Lady Jane Grey against my sister, hence his son’s brief marriage to Katherine Grey, I had a lot of affection for the man. Pembroke had proved he was politically canny by changing with the times, annulling the marriage of his son to Katherine Grey, and fighting for my sister Mary against the Wyatt rebellion. You might think this would not endear me to Pembroke, seeing as I had been imprisoned in the Tower for suspected involvement in that same rebellion, and had come close to losing my head, but this was not the case. Pembroke had offered me his loyalty when I came to the throne, and had not yet disappointed me. He had served my brother well, and my sister, and could be a good servant, when pointed in the right direction.
He was a strange member of my Council, for he could not read nor write, and signed his documents with a stamp, but he was not a simpleton. Pembroke had a ready wit, a keen mind, and was a creature of the outdoors. He had a small hound which went with him everywhere at court. Whenever he came to meet me, I allowed him to bring his dog, which often caused great disruption in my chambers. There were a growing number of beasts who lived there, including an ape; all presents from various dignitaries and nobles. The ape took delight in taunting Pembroke’s hound. My ape, named Gardiner, had a wicked, often fiendish, idea of enjoyment, which was why I had named him after my greatest enemy in my sister’s reign. Gardiner, the man, had delighted in causing misery just as Gardiner the ape did, so I thought it a fitting name. What made these encounters all the more amusing was that Pembroke’s hound was always so well-behaved, and never retaliated even when the ape crept upon him and plucked hair from his tail. His only response was to gaze up at his master with mournful eyes, as if to say “can’t you do something?”
And now Pembroke wanted to marry, or rather re-marry, his son to Katherine. I liked the plan. Firstly, the couple had been married before, and so perhaps they were meant to be joined in the eyes of God. Second, Pembroke was descended from an illegitimate line. His father had been born of a liaison between the first Earl of Pembroke and his mistress. The first Earl had produced no legitimate offspring when he died, and so the title had been granted to his bastard son. The family hailed from Wales, and as far as I was aware, there was no royal blood closely mingled within theirs.
This would be a much preferable match for my cousin. By marrying Pembroke’s heir, Herbert, Katherine would take no further royal blood into her line, and yet have a husband whose titles and worthiness would eventually increase her own. The match would allow her to advance, yet not advance too far, and the pair were already acquainted and liked each other, I believed. It was about time the girl was married. Katherine was too pretty and far too silly to leave wandering about court for the likes of de Quadra to get ideas about kidnap and forced marriage. Marriage to Herbert would pacify the danger she presented to me and allow her to concentrate on raising a family, which I knew she wanted. Perhaps, in marrying her off to Pembroke’s heir, I could at last look upon Katherine without hearing my own death dirge playing in my mind… Yes, I liked this plan. It made me far less nervous than the idea of her marrying Hertford
“I support the idea.” My fingers bounced off the table, then stopped as I rapped my knuckles on the surface, my thoughts reaching a conclusion. “It would allow my cousin to marry into a title and bloodline worthy of her. I give you leave to continue with the suit, Pembroke. You will have to get the goodwill of the lady, but I seem to remember they were fond of each other, in the short time they were married?”
“She knows and likes my son, Majesty,” replied Pembroke, looking mightily pleased, and relieved. “She was devastated when their match was
annulled. I am sure she will wish to return to the union.”
“Even better.” I meant it, truly. I did not want the girl to be forced into a marriage she did not want. Since I had been often enough in the same position, I found the notion repulsive. But if Katherine liked Herbert then much good could come of this.
The ones we fall for in the flush of first love are often not as suitable as the ones we love later in life, I thought. Imagine if I had been married off to the first man who made my heart race! What a thought! That now I might be joined to Thomas Seymour, that man who had hunted me in the house of my stepmother when I was but a child? That such a man might now be King? Long years and experience had shown me Thomas Seymour had been immoral to treat me as he had when I was a girl. But I could not deny that amongst the revulsion and horror he had woken in me, there had been fascination too. That had been part of his power. I had never known which man I was to meet; the loving lord I adored in my girlish inexperience, or the fearsome predator who terrified me. Power is never so complete as when it has the ability to confuse. If I had married him, Thomas Seymour would rule England now rather than me. What a horrific notion… to reward an abuser for their abuse.
Katherine was young enough to set aside her first love just as I had done, and, in time, I hoped she would think well of it. I left the Council meeting that day with a skip in my step. One of the potential threats to my throne was about to be dissolved.
*
A few days before we left London, a box of bracelets arrived from France; presents for me and my ladies. They were gifts from Hertford. He had not, however, sent anything special for Katherine. She received a bracelet, just like my other ladies. Her face fell when the parcel was opened and the glittering trinkets were distributed. It seemed Hertford, who could not as yet have heard of the proposed match between Katherine and Herbert, was demonstrating Katherine was a part of his past. Although Katherine was sad for several days, she soon rallied and poured all her energies into the match with Herbert. He had begun to send her tokens and letters, all stating he was desirous of resuming their union. Katherine brightly told my ladies she had always considered their marriage valid and went about showing his letters, poems and costly gifts to any who had the patience to listen.
“With such ease do the young set their first loves aside, and find others to adore, eh?” I murmured to Blanche and Kat as we watched Katherine show off a rather lovely necklace of gold and pearls to Mary Sidney; another gift from Herbert. I was warming to the girl. Katherine had welcomed the match with Herbert so enthusiastically that I had began to think I had misjudged her. Perhaps I have been too harsh, I thought, watching her almost skip about my chambers. I have placed my fears about the succession upon her. In truth, perhaps she is just a girl… in love with the notion of being in love.
I had regarded Katherine’s relationship with Hertford as a threat to my authority and position. I had wondered many times if her choice of Hertford was intended to threaten me… if she thought to set herself up as my rival. I had feared Katherine because many saw her as my replacement, but had the girl ever wanted such a role? Possibly not. Seeing her happiness about Herbert erased much of my suspicion. Perhaps I have transplanted my fears into her, I thought ruefully. I have become as suspicious as they say my grandsire was, as my father was in the last years of his life…
“I think she will be happy with Pembroke’s boy,” said Kat. “Perhaps it will bring her some steadiness. She will have a family again. Since their mother’s death, the two Grey girls have seemed like lost souls to me.”
“And perhaps she will cease to be a focus for all who would put her in my place,” I muttered dryly.
“Which, I believe, may make her happier still, Majesty,” Kat interjected. “I doubt Katherine ever desired to be set up against you. She has not the wit to be the focus of rebellion.” Kat ruffled her shoulders and nodded with satisfaction. “With this match, she has a chance to live a simple, normal life. To become a wife and mother, and you know how often she chatters about children. She will make an affectionate and able mother. I can see that in her.”
“Pembroke is a good man, and a good Welsh man,” Blanche said. Good Welshmen were above all others in her estimation. I considered mentioning that I believed Pembroke’s blood was English in origin, and then thought better of it; I did not wish to dispel Blanche’s dreams. “When Katherine marries his son, and goes to their seat in Wales, she will be surrounded by the unsurpassed beauty of Wales and it will calm her soul.”
“I think if she were any more placid in spirit, Blanche, we might not rouse her at all in the morn!” I jested, but I was pleased with myself. My one concern had been that Katherine would refuse Herbert, but since the girl was so happy, there was no obstacle. Deciding I had been too hard on Katherine, I took time to converse with her, and found that if we discussed hunting, clothing or dancing, we had plenty in common. Perhaps we might even be friends, one day, I thought, amazing myself with the notion. A bare month ago, it would have seemed impossible.
As we set out for the summer progress, with scores of baggage wagons rolling behind us, I was cheerful. My spirits lifted, giving me new energy. I was determined to leave behind all my troubles and concentrate on the future. I would give Robin another chance to redeem himself. I would spend more time with my Grey cousins. I even sent word that I would allow Mary of Scots safe passage through England, although my missive arrived too late for her to take up the offer. I was feeling generous, happier than I had done for a long time. We left for a summer of enjoyment, and I felt young again, merry.
I did not realise, that as with all things, this was soon to change.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Richmond Palace
February 1603
Happiness makes time move fast, just as sorrow seems to slow it down. I have often found this to be the case. When sorrow comes, time stills and slows, creeping past us, making us feel aged by its sluggish passage. When happiness arrives, time races, speeding along, enlivening our spirits and making us feel young.
It is all an illusion, of course, but we humans, we are creatures of illusion. The notions we hold dear; love, peace, happiness, virtue, justice, mercy… all these are illusions we create and maintain for the betterment of life. All our ills are illusions too; hatred, discord, jealousy, envy, wrath… They are all made by us, brought to life by our minds.
We invent such things because we cannot help it. We are creatures made for story-telling. Stories define our lives, guide our choices, and make our world. We cannot hold love in our hands and show it to another. We cannot cut a slice from justice and demonstrate that it is real. These values and virtues, these sins and evils; we create them all.
We are story-tellers. We are the creators of worlds, of lands, of visions of perfection and imperfection in our souls. And if we know how to control the stories, we can change the world.
I was happy then, captured by a new story. The tale of two cousins who had been parted in affection by the gossip of others, yet who could come to be friends as a new strand of our story was lifted into the loom of life. I wanted to trust Katherine Grey. I wanted there to be a time when I would not hear her step and think on her with dread. I rode out for progress that year and I was happy. Time sped by… My heart felt freer than it had in months.
But all too soon, the thread of another story, an older one, came back. This story had not been resolved, and stories cannot rest, cannot leave if they have not been completed.
We are story-tellers, yes, but sometimes we do not control the stories; they control us.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Pirgo House
Havering
Summer 1561
Katherine Grey was drawing glances.
We had arrived at the house of her uncle, Lord John Grey, and were welcomed with a great feast in his hall, with mummers, tumblers and musicians to amuse us. Grey’s lands had been turned into an encampment for my court. An endless sea of tents was spread over his gro
unds, their sides flapping and snapping in the wind, growing sodden with the light, falling rain of summer. There were bonfires, players to entertain us, and a fine bedchamber, newly decorated for my visit, in which I was to sleep. Grey had gone to much trouble, but even as we made merry in his halls, eyes were drawn not to our host, or to me, but to his niece, Katherine.
The first stages of the engagement between Katherine and Herbert had gone well, but rapidly, the potential groom appeared to be waning in his affections. Many of us were puzzled about this, none more so than Katherine. And there was a curious side-effect to this as well; Katherine was putting on weight. Usually a slight and small creature, Katherine was growing portly. It had caused the women of the court to glance upon her with great suspicion, but I could not believe she would have been so forgetful of her honour as to become a man’s mistress. But still, her rounded belly was suspect.
“Is she with child?” I whispered to Kat, watching Katherine go about her duties in an ungainly fashion. “Or is she simply overeating because of her unhappiness about Herbert?”
Kat pursed her lips. “The lump is suspicious, Majesty, but remember your sister? Queen Mary grew a lump in the belly that was filled with sickness, rather than a child. Perhaps Katherine is ill. I cannot believe she would have been so foolish over Hertford to have allowed him into her bed.”