Strands of My Winding Cloth

by G Lawrence

  Cecil was pleased. He believed that his plan to destabilise Scotland was going well. Not even ten days wed and already Mary’s lords were rising against her! There were few things that pleased Spirit more than seeing disruption in other countries that were a potential threat to England. And seeing as he had no wish to see Mary ever named my heir, Cecil had high hopes that these events would ruin her reputation for good in the eyes of my people.

  *

  Zwetkowich came to take formal leave of me at Windsor in August, accompanied by my dear de Silva who was to stay on. We had settled on conditions in order for negotiations of marriage to the Archduke to continue, so Zwetkowich was to return and relay them to his master. There was a mix-up with their chambers when they arrived, and the two men were given but one room to share. When I learned this I was appalled. Handing them the keys to my own rooms, I told them this slight was not intended. “You shall occupy my own chamber, my lords,” I said.

  “Majesty,” de Silva said, smiling affectionately. “It was a mistake. There is no insult. We have no wish to deprive you of your own bed!”

  “Indeed, Your Majesty is most generous,” Zwetkowich went on. “But we will be fine as we are. I will be sure to tell all who ask, though, that once the Queen of England offered me her bed when I was without one.”

  “Be sure to tell them that I was not offered along with the bed, ambassador,” I said dryly, making de Silva chortle. “For I know well enough the way naughty minds will turn such a story against me.”

  The next morning Robin took Zwetkowich and de Silva for a stroll through the gardens. Making their way back along the riverside, they passed under the building where my Privy Gardens lay. Robin’s fool was gambolling and making them laugh by doing impressions. He did a particularly fine Norfolk… As they approached, I heard laughing and shouting, and came to my window, wondering what was going on. It was early and I was not fully dressed. All three men happened to looked up at the exact moment I appeared at the window in my nightshift. Robin’s fool pointed upwards. “A merry sight to see the Queen, my lords, and to see so much of her!” he cried out. Mortified, my cheeks on fire, I stepped back, leaving the men gaping to see me so immodestly presented. Fully-dressed, and with all my cosmetics applied, I joined them perhaps an hour later.

  “Majesty,” Robin said, a grin twitching about his lips.

  “All three of you can stop your grinning,” I snapped ruefully, although I could not help but feel a little amused. The three men were desperately attempting to contain their mirth and the sight of their struggling faces made me smile. It was the first time since Kat died that I truly felt like laughing. I scowled, and yet could not stop my lips from cresting upwards. I gave in and laughed. It was so freeing to know joy again. The three lords, seeing my amusement, surrendered. They released their repressed mirth, allowing the happy sound of merriment to ripple through the gardens.

  “You are as beautiful when you rise as you are when you meet the court, Majesty,” de Silva assured me, reaching out to take my hand and kiss it. “I will thank the Lord in Heaven for this stolen glimpse of you, fresh-faced and natural as the dawn. It was like being a nymph in Diane’s forest, seeing the goddess rise.”

  Zwetkowich looked rather awkward, despite his mirth. “Please tell me that you will say nothing to another soul, my lord,” I teased. “I cannot trust these two lords to close their mouths.”

  Zwetkowich smiled. “My good friend Guzman tells the truth, Majesty,” he said, kissing my hand. “Seeing you at that window was something I shall never forget. One might call it a parting gift. And it will be prized in my memory for the rest of my life.”

  We walked on through the gardens, with Robin trying to stop his fool taunting me. I thought lightly that I was glad I had not been entirely natural when they saw me. My face had been powdered, and I had been wearing a wig. Had they seen me with my thin hair, and without powder on, I believe they would have thought the sight not so good a gift. It was not that I was old, being thirty-two, but I was more than aware that these days I needed artifice to make up for the dark circles under my eyes, the thinness of my once-glorious hair, and the greyness upon my once fresh and bright skin. Queens are judged on their appearances, I had no need for rumour to spread, calling me old or infirm.

  The slide from the first flush of youth is something that comes as a shock to many women. I was still striking, I was still captivating, as much for my mind as for my appearance… but I had not that beauty which the young possess so fleetingly, and never think to appreciate when it is theirs.

  Chapter Sixty-Five

  Windsor Castle

  Summer’s End 1565

  “If she sends me any more letters, Lettice,” I said. “Put them to one side. I cannot read them all.” Lettice did as I instructed and took the piles of parchment away; more letters from Margaret Lennox protesting her imprisonment. I was not about to answer each one of them, I had better things to do with my time.

  I glanced up at Lettice. Recently arrived back at court and welcomed back into my household, Lettice was a mother now and soon to be one again. It had been long since I saw her and her husband, Walter Devereux. Becoming a mother had done something to my younger cousin… it had transformed her. When she was a girl, I had thought her beautiful, but now, with the rounded hips and figure of a mother, she was a star fallen to earth. In truth, there had never been many who could have competed with her before, but now, she was most assuredly the premier beauty of my court. And it was not only young gallants who stared. Robin could barely steal his eyes away.

  I often wondered if Robin had a passion for women with red hair. His wife, Amy, who he had married as a love-match, had been a red-head. I was, and so was Lettice. And it was clear from the first instant her velvet slipper stepped into court again, that Robin was attracted to Lettice. Unlike all other times when I had only suspected he had a fancy for another woman, this time he did not attempt to hide it. He danced attendance on her at court entertainments and when he came to my chambers, he flowed to her as though he were a river and she the ocean. Perhaps he was seeking to make me jealous, in another effort to get me to wed him. I was certainly made jealous, but it did not make me want to marry him.

  At first, I could not quite believe what he was doing. I had so lately lost Kat. Could he not see how fragile I was? And why? I asked my traitorous heart as it pined for him. Why do you continue to love one who thrusts you aside with such ease? Why do you continue to show him favour? I did not consider how ill I had treated him of late. I saw only his ill-behaviour and did not recognise my own. Perhaps I drove him to her for I was not good company. I was mean, vindictive and rough. Was it any wonder he sought the company of a beautiful young woman who was clearly excited by his attentions? Was it any wonder he raced to her, as I drove him from me? But such thoughts did not come to me then. I was hurt, wounded, and furious.

  I tried to make myself believe I cared not for him. My retaliation lashed out, hard and brutal. If Robin was setting his love for me aside, I would do the same. I would show him how easily he could be replaced. I started to show affection to other nobles and was often seen in close conversation with Norfolk and Sussex. I called Thomas Heneage to me to walk with me in the gardens when I knew Robin would be there, slathering like a dog over Lettice. Whenever Robin looked up, I was with another man, or with a whole volley of them. They pranced about me, they wrote poetry to me, and vied for my attention. My ruptured heart lapped up their praises as I sought signs that Robin was being made as jealous as he made me. And how swiftly it worked… Robin’s face would turn red and purple, mottled with anger when he saw me laughing and joking with Heneage and others; touching their arms and moving stray hair from their eyes. Those were dark days. As I strode out bold as a cock surrounded by my flock of adoring hens, Robin doubled his efforts to woo Lettice. Even though she was married and carrying a child, rumours flew that the two were secret lovers. When I heard this, I wanted to weep. The thought of Robin being so close to anoth
er… sharing her bed… stroking her skin; offering her the comfort of his company that he did not think to grant to me... It was torture. I considered sending Lettice from court, but that would only have shown Robin that he was getting to me. I wanted him to think I cared not. I wanted him to think I had forgotten him, as he seemed to have forgotten me.

  Heneage was overjoyed to have become my new, sudden favourite. He had a place in my Privy Chambers now, and I did enjoy his company. He soothed me and I became fond of him. I have no doubt Heneage knew I was using him to retaliate against Robin, but any ladder to favour is welcome to those who wish to climb. Robin started to become obviously worried by my behaviour. Whilst he did not give up flirting with Lettice, he did start to bad-mouth Heneage about court, and was apparently troubled that I might decide to marry Heneage, rather than him. The fact Heneage was married meant little to Robin. My efforts had worked, and perhaps a little too well. Robin confronted Heneage in the gardens one day. Ill words turned to shouting, and a fight broke out. My guards had to be called to pull Robin off Heneage. This had gone too far.

  “You have no call to start fights with servants of my own Privy Chamber, my lord!” I shouted at Robin. I had already seen Heneage, and let him off with a warning. I had no doubt that Robin’s temper, hot and foul, so like my own, was the cause of the fight.

  “You have no right to throw yourself at other men when you have sworn your heart to me!” he shouted back, his nostrils flaring and his face an unhealthy shade of scarlet-purple.

  “Have you not found a new love, my lord Earl?” I bristled with jealousy and indignation. “You dance and simper about my young cousin often enough!”

  “As you saunter off with other men, to make me jealous!” he screamed. As my eyes opened wide and dangerous, Robin took a step back.

  His tone became as ice. “I wish to leave court, Majesty, for I feel I am not wanted or needed here.” He turned from me and made for the Presence Chamber, where most of the court were gathered, eagerly listening to our fight behind the closed door to my Privy Chamber.

  “You will do no such thing!” I strode after him, caring not that he had opened the door and the whole court could hear me. “You will stay here as you are commanded to, my lord, and do your duty to your Queen!”

  “Get out of my way!” Robin shouted at the guard on the door to the Presence Chamber.

  The guard turned angrily to me. “Is my Lord of Leicester King, or is it Her Majesty the Queen?” he asked. My temper was ready to blow. I glared at Robin. The whole court was watching. There was silence in the Presence Chamber as everyone waited to see what would happen next.

  “God’s Death, my lord!” I screamed. “I have long wished you well as my friend, but my favour is not so locked up for you that others shall not partake of it! And if you think to rule here, I will take a course to see you fall.”

  I drew myself up. “I will have but one mistress here, and no master!”

  Robin stared at me, and then looked back at the gathered masses staring at us. Never had I rebuked him so damningly in public before. He hardly knew what to say. His face went pale with anger and fear.

  “Remove yourself from my chambers, my lord,” I spat. “And think yourself lucky I do not remove you of your posts! Too many times have you overstepped your mark. Remember, those I have raised up can be cast down. You are not the King, my lord Earl. I am.”

  “Something you never fail to thrust down my throat, Your Majesty,” he hissed. Robin strode past all those gathered outside as I stood watching him go.

  “Well?” I shouted into the chamber. “Get to your business, all of you! Or what do I pay you wages for at all? Any here who have no task to better occupy their time should remove themselves from court, for you are of no use to me!”

  The Presence Chamber emptied with remarkable speed.

  Robin shut himself in his chambers for three days and refused to come out. I did not send for him. I was too furious. My ladies dodged me, shrinking from my hands which were free and easy with smacks and slaps. Heneage retired from court at Cecil’s urging. I felt rather sorry for him. He had become stuck in the middle of this spat, and although he wished for favour and advancement, he hardly wanted to make enemies at the same time. He and Robin had been good friends once. They were no longer.

  After three days, I had a rather surprising visit from Cecil accompanied by Sussex. “Your Majesty must meet with the Earl of Leicester and make amends,” Cecil said, causing me to stare at him as though he had gone mad.

  “What is it to you, Cecil, if Robin has lost my favour?” I asked in a sour tone. “And you, Sussex, what are you doing here? Has not the Earl ever been your enemy?”

  “No man who is a friend to my Queen is my enemy in truth, Majesty,” Sussex said. “We disagree on many issues, but that does not mean I do not value the Earl.”

  “Then you should buy him from me, Sussex,” I declared. “I will sell him cheap, for I no longer see worth in such an ill-mannered hound.”

  “Your Majesty is miserable without Lord Dudley,” Cecil said. “All who are close to you and love you know it. Make amends, Majesty. The Earl suffers just as you do.”

  “He has said this?” How much did I want to believe that Robin sorrowed! How much did I want to believe Robin felt the gulf between us and wanted it mended.

  “He has been in a black and dark place ever since your quarrel, Majesty,” Cecil told me. “He believes he has lost your friendship and your affection forever.”

  I swallowed a lump in my throat. “There is nothing Robin Dudley could do to make me care for him less,” I said softly. “It seems there is no action he could take, or trouble he could cause, that would make me turn my face from him for good.”

  “May I tell him that, Majesty, and bring him to you?” Cecil’s good face was grave and serious. “You have lost much and all of us know the pain you feel. These games the Earl has played, they have wounded you at a time when you were most able to be wounded. He understands his mistake now, and will not do it again.”

  “Bring him to me.” My anger drained from me. I thought on how I had screamed at Robin, about all I had said to him. I felt awful. I had shamed him before the court, laid him open to attack from his enemies… Robin had hurt me too, there was no denying that, but I should have controlled myself. Anger is a bright flash of senselessness, and all too often the ones we unleash it upon are not the ones we are truly angry at. I was angry at Kat for leaving me. Even though I knew she had no choice, I could not set my resentment aside. I needed her, and she was not here. That was why I was so quick and easily spilt into fury. I was angry at Kat… angry at Death. As I understood this, I understood how badly I had treated my friend.

  When Robin arrived, looking guarded and bashful, something shattered within me. I put out my hands and started to weep like a lost child. He ran to me and took me in his arms. When I looked up I saw that he, too, was crying.

  “Do not weep, my love,” I whispered to him.

  “I feared I had lost your love,” he said into my neck. “That you loved another.”

  “And I thought the same of you,” I admitted. “I am not strong enough for these games, Robin. I am so alone, and when you are not with me, I have nothing.”

  “I should not have been so selfish, Elizabeth,” he whispered. “I should have not fallen to these petty games. From now on, I am your man. In whatever way you need me. I am yours.”

  “I need you.” I sobbed against his chest. “I always need you, Robin.”

  Later that day, as Robin and I sat playing cards, I took up a book of his from the table, and wrote in it. Handing it to him, I smiled gently. “A reminder for you and for me, Robin,” I said gently. Inside, it read,

  “No crooked leg, no bleared eye,

  No part deformed out of kind,

  Nor yet so ugly half can be

  As is the inward and suspicious mind.”

  Your loving mistress, Elizabeth R

  Chapter Sixty-Six

&
nbsp; Windsor Castle

  Autumn 1565

  I rode out into Windsor’s park often as summer turned to autumn.

  In the darkness before dawn, through the hills and dales of England I rode, seeking to lose my thoughts, lose my sorrow, lose my anger. With Robin and Blanche at my side, I galloped hard over fields sodden with rain, up and over hills, through slim, overgrown paths through dripping dark forests. We rode in silence. I did not need to talk. I needed to lose myself. In riding, I could leave all the horrors I had faced behind, and know only the present, even if only for a brief time.

  Sometimes, I would stop my horse, slide from my saddle and stand upon a hillside, gazing out over England. I would stretch my arms out to the dark skies above, and tilt my head back, as rain fell on my face. Standing there, with the wind rippling through my hair, I breathed in deep and faced the coming storms. When I stood there, alone under the grey skies of England, I felt as though there was something left within me, after all. As though there was some courage, some light, some scrap of joy which remained; as though I were not made only of rage and sorrow.