Queen Of This Realm

The Earl of Leicester

THE LADIES OF MY BEDCHAMBER WERE A CHARMING AND handsome company of women. I should not have chosen them if they had not been. I was very susceptible to beauty in both men and women. I liked to have good-looking people around me. I had sufficient personal attraction myself not to be jealous of a pretty woman, and as I was surrounded by an aura of royalty, I must outshine them all.

The three who pleased me best were Mary Sidney, Jane Seymour and Lettice Knollys—and all for different reasons.

Mary Sidney was a dear affectionate creature, and as she was Robert's sister that made a special bond between us. Mary loved all her family but there was no doubt who was her special favorite. She was able to tell me little anecdotes from his childhood and we would laugh together over his boldness like two doting parents. Mary was such a faithful creature and I liked Henry Sidney, her husband, whom I had known since his boyhood. When my brother Edward had come to the throne, he had been made one of the principal gentlemen of the Privy Chamber. He had obviously been seen as a rising star since Northumberland had chosen him to marry his daughter Mary. It was a happy marriage, Mary being such a gentle, loving girl who, I suppose, would have made a success of most relationships. She certainly had become one of my dearest companions.

Lady Jane Seymour was another gentle girl. I took to her because she was Thomas Seymour's niece and I was sorry for her because both her father and uncle had gone to the block. I felt sympathy for the children who had been thus deprived of a parent—perhaps because I had myself. Jane was a very delicate girl and I was always scolding her about not taking more care of her health. In one matter she did not altogether please me and that was in her friendship with Lady Katharine Grey. Katharine gave herself airs. The silly little creature thought she had more right to the throne than I had, and it had been brought back to me—not by Jane Seymour I hasten to say—that she had said she should have been declared next in succession. I supposed there were some few who would agree that she should. But then there were some who talked of Mary of Scotland, not only as the next Queen but the rightful one. I was always on my guard against successors to the throne, for I imagined they were always casting covetous eyes on the present occupier. Moreover, clever people had a habit of paying court to such, and if too much favor was shown to them it might well be that they would wish to speed up the inheritance.

No! I did not like successors to the throne—unless of course one should be the natural heir of my body, which was very unlikely in my present mood or, I was inclined to think, my mood hereafter. Even some sons had tried to replace their fathers. Successors were a breed to be avoided rather than cultivated and I decided to keep a watchful eye on Katharine Grey. And the one thing which prevented my complete confidence in Jane Seymour was her close friendship with Katharine Grey.

The third of my favorite ladies was Lettice Knollys. She was quite different from the other two. There was nothing gentle about Lettice. She was a fiery creature. Her father, Sir Francis Knollys, had married the daughter of Mary Boleyn who was my aunt, so there was a family connection between me and Lettice. I always liked to advance the Boleyn side of my family when possible for, on the death of my mother, life had been hard for them. Thus Lettice would have been of interest to me even if she had not been an outstandingly attractive girl; and if she had not been one of the most beautiful girls at Court, she would have been noticed for her wit and vivacity. I liked her immediately but I realized that it might be necessary to curb those high spirits and a certain tendency which I discovered of trying to outshine everyone… including me.

She danced well and dancing was one of my special accomplishments. I never tired of it. I loved to glide across the floor and I knew that I looked my best when dancing because of my tallish willowy figure. I often chose to dance with Robert, who also performed well. Very often when we took the floor others would fall away as though to suggest it would be sacrilege to dance while Robert and I cavorted together. The applause would always ring out when the music stopped, and I would smile at the appreciation on the faces of the courtiers knowing that part of their eulogies were directed to the crown; but nevertheless I was an expert performer.

And this girl Lettice Knollys danced as well as I did. None would say she did, of course, but they knew it; and she often called attention to herself when I was dancing and it irritated me faintly; but whatever her charms and accomplishments she had no crown to augment them.

She was inclined to be a little familiar too—presuming on the fact that we were some sort of cousins. I often found the need to rebuke her and sometimes gave her a sharp rap across the knuckles for her clumsiness when she helped to dress me, and I knew that when she hung her head and assumed a humble attitude, she was quite aware that the rebuke had been incurred not for clumsiness but for her own attractions.

Sometimes I wondered why I did not dismiss her. But she was so pretty in a very striking way. I think she had my mother's eyes for they were dark and heavily lashed but whereas my mother had been dark-haired, Lettice's hair was honey-colored. It was abundant and curly. She must have been very like her grandmother, Mary Boleyn, my mother's sister who had been my father's mistress before he married my mother Anne. I heard that Mary had been one of those yielding women who are irresistible to men. I always supposed this was because the men knew there need not be long delays in reaching their desires. Mary was said to be one of those who could not say no, and those are the ones who are naturally irresistible to men, being a constant reminder to them of their own irresistibility.

We were in June. Robert's wife had died last September, but the rumors persisted. I tried to show my indifference to them and had long since ordered the freedom of Mother Dowe who had set the rumors about that I had borne a child or was about to have one. I wanted to show that such foolish gossip was not worth punishing anyone for and that I cared little for my detractors—much as my grandfather Henry VII had done with such good effect in the case of Perkin Warbeck. I was often glad that I had made such a close study of history. It was full of lessons for the living.

Robert was still hoping for marriage and I was still prevaricating. I would not give him a direct no. Nor would I accept any other suitor.

“Time is passing. We are growing older,” pleaded Robert.

“We are still young and because of what happened, there must be a gap of time between then and any steps we take.”

Robert grew sullen, hectoring, which made me laugh. I was constantly reminding him that I was the Queen and that he should not forget it. Poor Robert, how his fingers itched to grasp the crown!

There are men like that. They yearn for power. I could have told him that great tribulations come with a crown as so many of my ancestors had discovered to their cost. It would make no difference. Men like Robert stretched out their eager hands for it. They would do anything for it. They would fight for it, kill…

Mary Sidney was a strong advocate for her brother. “The burdens of state are too much for a woman to carry alone,” she said.

“It depends on the woman,” I told her, my eyes flashing so that she knew better than to pursue the subject.

She changed it. “Robert is planning a Midsummer's Day water party.”

“I have heard nothing of it,” I replied sharply.

“He wanted it to be a surprise for you.”

“He is always planning for me,” I said tenderly.

“Your Majesty, he has told me that he thinks of naught but your pleasure.”

“There is no one like him,” I said.

Mary beamed with pleasure. “I loved all my brothers,” she went on, “but we all agreed there was no one like Robert. He shone among the rest of us from the time he was two.”

“How I should have loved to see him when he was two!”

“He was very sure of himself even then, so they tell me,” said Mary. “They always said he should have been the eldest. He looked after the family. The death of my father and brother…”

“I forbid you to speak of such things. I know Robert looks out for those he loves.”

“And he loves none as he loves Your Majesty.”

“I believe that to be true. I call him My Eyes, because he is always looking out for what is good for me.”

“It is so comforting for a woman to have a man to care for her … even if she is a queen.”

I gave her a slap across the hand—playful but there was a touch of irritation in it. “There are some women, Mary Sidney,” I said, “who are capable of managing their own affairs, even if it be ruling a kingdom.”

“I know that full well. Your Majesty is an example of such.”

“Well, tell me about the Midsummer party.”

It turned out to be an interesting occasion. It was a glorious day as was fitting for Midsummer and the sun shone on the pageant Robert had devised. He was an expert with such arrangements. He had several boats, all decorated with roses and other summer flowers, and it seemed as though the whole Court had turned out to witness the pageant.

There was stirring music coming from one of the barges and children's voices singing the sweetest songs, all in praise of me.

I was sumptuously gowned in white damask with a greenish pattern on it. Green was becoming to my coloring and brought out the red in my hair. My puffed slashed sleeves fell back to show my hands which were adorned with jewels. My hair was carefully dressed with a few false pieces to give it body and I always looked well with it piled high because of my high forehead. I tried to look as much like my father as possible. People still talked of him affectionately; moreover it reminded them that I was his undoubted daughter and the true inheritor of the throne.

Robert was magnificent as always in blue satin. The sleeves of his jerkin were slit from wrist to shoulder to show the doublet beneath which was decorated with pearls and embroidery. His breeches—a fashion borrowed from the French—were full at the top and narrowed at the knee, slashed and puffed looking like latticed windows with bars across which sparkled with jewels. He had the most perfectly shaped legs I have ever seen and had no need for garters. His stockings, with gold and silver thread woven into them, fitted perfectly. In his hat was a curling blue feather.

I listened for the cheers of the people. They were not quite so wholehearted as they had been before the scandal but they were affectionate enough for me. Less so perhaps when Robert appeared with me, and I knew that I must still act with the utmost caution.

Lettice Knollys was in the same satin-padded, flower-decorated barge as I was and although she was much less elaborately dressed, she managed to look strikingly handsome. I felt a sudden qualm because I caught Robert watching her. She herself was gazing at the shore, but a certain smile played about her lips which could have implied something. What?

He is looking at that woman, I thought. And what was it I saw in his eyes. Lust! How dared he, when I was there.

Then I thought: Robert is a man. I would not have him otherwise. I have held myself aloof. Must I be surprised if he sometimes turns his eyes on other women? I blamed her. Was she playing some game with my Robert?

I would have to watch Madam Lettice. Robert too, perhaps.

I was faintly uneasy. I did not want the situation to change. Marry Robert I could not. I saw that clearly. What if I told him definitely that there could never be marriage between us? He was a free man now—no longer shackled to his little country wife.

Nothing stands still. Life changes. Was Robert growing restive? That was a matter of some concern, especially with a minx like Lettice Knollys close by.

Robert was beside me and I said to him curtly: “So you are admiring the view?”

Whether he knew I had been aware of his interest in Lettice or not, I was not sure. But he immediately turned to me. “I cannot see anything but Your Majesty when you are near.”

“It did appear that you found other objects of interest.”

“I was lost in thought,” he said glibly, “wondering what I could devise for your pleasure.”

The Spanish Ambassador de Quadra was standing near. “I trust my lord,” said Robert, “that you do not find our little entertainment too boring.”

“On the contrary,” said de Quadra, in his rather halting English, “I found it most interesting.”

He was looking from me to Robert speculatively.

“Did you hear the people cheering the Queen?” asked Robert.

“I did. They love her well.”

“We all love the Queen,” went on Robert. “It is our bounden duty to do so, but there are some of us who love her with such intensity that we think of nothing else night and day.”

“And you are one of these, Lord Robert?”

He looked at me fervently and I forgot momentarily what I had thought to be his interest in Lettice Knollys.

“I, more than all the Queen's subjects, love her with an undying love. In fact, my lord, you are a Bishop. Why should you not marry us here and now?”

I looked sharply at the Spanish Ambassador. He did not seem in the least surprised at such a request and looked at Robert almost as though there was some secret pact between them.

I said: “I doubt the Bishop would have enough English to carry him through the ceremony.”

De Quadra was watching me steadily and his next words amazed me. “If you will rid yourself of William Cecil and the band of heretics who surround you, I would willingly perform the ceremony.”

He bowed and turned away.

I said to Robert: “Why did he say that? It is almost as though he had considered the request before.”

“Oh,” replied Robert, “you know these Spaniards. It would have been a delightful way of marrying, don't you think? On a barge…on Midsummer's Day, unexpectedly…”

I felt uneasy. I said rather sharply: “It is not the way in which the people expect their Queen to marry.”

I called Lettice to my side. I wanted to know whether I had imagined what I thought I had seen. She came demurely. Robert scarcely spoke to her. The poor girl must have felt completely snubbed. She did not appear to mind though and Walter Devereux joined us. He was Viscount Hereford, just about Lettice's age—quite a presentable young man but rather dull as I supposed every young man must be when compared with Robert. He seemed quite taken with Lettice and she was turning those startlingly beautiful eyes of hers on him in such a way that was inviting, promising—just as I had imagined she had looked at Robert a short while ago. It was her way with any man—not to be taken seriously.

What I was really thinking about was the strange words of the Spanish Ambassador.

They remained in my mind during the whole of that magnificent pageant.

MARY SIDNEY WAS NOT the sort of girl who could keep a secret and I very quickly discovered that something was on her mind. She was preoccupied, anxious and uncertain. I reproved her several times for her clumsiness; she did not even seem to hear me, which was strange because generally she was so sensitive and could be upset for hours after a reprimand.

I contrived to be alone with her after my toilette had been completed and I said: “Mary, you had better tell me what is on your mind.”

She looked startled and then fell on her knees and buried her face in my gown.

“You should be careful,” I said tartly. “Those aglets on the skirt can be very sharp if they catch your skin. I am always complaining about them.”

She lifted her face to mine and there was no mistaking her woebegone expression.

I said: “Take the stool. Now confess.”

“It is because we all love Your Majesty so dearly…”

“Yes, yes,” I interrupted impatiently. “That is the opening when people are going to admit to have done me some wrong. Get on with it.”

“We have done you no wrong, Your Majesty. Indeed not. There is not one of us who would not die for you.”

“So many have offered me their lives,” I retorted, “that the offer does lose its impact after a while—particularly as these offers are frequently given lightly, so that to offer a life to a queen has become almost a figure of speech. Don't try my patience further, Mary. Admit. Confess, whatever it is.”

“Robert loves you dearly. You are his life. If you could have seen his pride, his joy when you referred to him as your Eyes…He cannot live in this suspense, Your Majesty.”

“And what does he propose to do about that?”

“It was a plan.”

“Do you mean a plot?”

“I mean that Henry and I and Robert thought…if we could get the help of Spain to your marriage, you would agree to it.”

“And how do you think you could get the consent of Spain?”

“Your Majesty, Philip is no longer your suitor, but there is one thing that Spain desires above all else—perhaps more than an alliance through marriage. That England returns to Rome.”

“What!” I cried, almost jumping out of my chair.

“Well, we thought—Henry, Robert and I—that if Spain had the promise that England should be returned to Rome in exchange for their support in the marriage…”

“Indeed!” I cried. “And I suppose King Robert would have arranged this after the marriage?”

Mary was silent. I sat very still. You are not yet King, Lord Robert, I thought. And this is what you would propose! Consent to the marriage and you will return England to Rome!

How right I had been! He thought himself already King. What had de Quadra said: “Dismiss Cecil.” The cleverest and most unbiased counselor the Queen ever had! And all because he was what the Spaniards would call a heretic!

I began to laugh.

Mary looked at me wonderingly.

“Your Majesty is not angry?” she said pleadingly. “It is only because Robert loves you so much… because he is so impatient.”

“And because he is so ambitious, eh? Because already he feels the crown on his head?”

“I should not have told you.”

“It was your duty to tell me.”

“I was very worried to be involved in such a plan without your knowledge.”

“And so you should be. But you did well to tell me, and know this, and tell your fellow conspirators this, that whatever they think to plot without my knowledge, they will never succeed in it. There is one ruler of this realm and I am that ruler.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Bring me my looking-glass,” I said.

She did and I studied my face. Not beautiful…as Lettice Knollys was, but attractive with that white skin and tawny hair and large tawny eyes which had a faraway look, yet penetrating, because they were a trifle shortsighted. I touched my hair with my beautiful white hands. No one had hands quite like mine—not even Lettice Knollys.

I said, “Get your combs. I need my hair a little higher. Hurry, and take care that you do not pull.”

While Mary arranged my hair I was thinking: Sell my country to Rome! My dear Robert, you may be handsome, charming, much sought after by the women of my Court, but I am the Queen. I am the one who makes decisions. That is something you will have to learn.

No man shall govern me; and I shall govern my country.

TO MY DISTRESS Lady Jane Seymour died. She had been ailing for some time and had never been a strong girl. I had been quite fond of her and to please her family I ordered that she should have a state funeral in Westminster Abbey.

I missed her very much. Jane had been one of those good girls who never complained and was always willing to do what was asked of her.

I had always believed that I should show myself to my people, and I liked to move about the country so that those who lived in remote places could feel they had some contact with me.

Since the Amy Robsart scandal I felt more than ever the need to keep my people's good will and so I was traveling often. When we made these progresses through the country, the Court went with us. We stayed at the various big houses on the route and although my rich subjects found entertaining us very costly, they regarded it as a great honor and would even be piqued if their houses were not visited.

On this particular occasion we were in Ipswich and among my retinue was Robert, of course. As my Master of Horse he must always be with us and he would ride beside me which was all in keeping with the position he held and was one of the reasons why we had both thought it perfect for him.

I had not reprimanded him about his secret plot with the Spanish Ambassador, but I continued to hold him off, and he remained in a state of frustration which was sufficient punishment, I thought; since he was as ardently devoted as ever, I was quite satisfied with the state of affairs.

With us also was Lady Katharine Grey who had seemed very preoccupied of late. After Mary Sidney's confession, I wondered what Katharine was about. She was pale and there were rings about her eyes which I had not noticed before. She looked as though she was sickening for something. I was not greatly disturbed because she was after all a rival of whom I must always be conscious and my nature was not of a kind to endear me to such people.

It was while we were in Ipswich that Lord Robert surprised me while I was at my toilette.

It was early morning and he looked so disturbed that I dismissed my women and granted him an audience. I was looking quite attractive with my hair loose and in my petticoats, though when he appeared I immediately requested that a wrap be put about my shoulders.

When they had gone Robert seized my hand and kissed it.

“My dearest,” he said, “I had to come to tell you this without delay for I fear someone else should bring news of what happened last night and misconstrue…”

“Tell me quickly,” I cried. “I am all interest.”

“Last night Lady Katharine Grey came to my bedchamber.”

I felt myself go cold with fury but he went on quickly: “Oh, not on my invitation. She came to plead with me for help. I dispatched her with all speed, but I feared someone might have seen her either enter or leave my bedchamber and have come to you with some garbled story.”

“You had better tell me what happened.”

“She was not five minutes in my chamber. She was frantic with anxiety. That is why she came.”

“What is her problem? Does she want you to help her take the throne from me, or would she offer my country to Rome as a bait for their help?”

He flushed a little. Then he said: “She is pregnant and in a dire state.”

“Pregnant! She has no husband. I have never been asked to give my consent to a marriage.”

“She has a husband.”

“Who is he?”

“Lord Hertford.”

“He is in France.”

“Exactly so, and she does not hear from him. She swears she is married, but she has no proof of this until Hertford returns. Meanwhile she wants help.”

I was angry. She had no right to marry without my consent. She was next in line to the succession and she was pregnant, which would call attention to my barren state.

“Help?” I said. “How dare she? To marry without my consent and that of the Council! It is feckless in the extreme. She should go to the Tower. Do you believe there was a marriage? Hertford is not in the country. There must have been witnesses.”

“I dismissed her quickly from my chamber and know nothing but what I have told you, and that, I thought, should be imparted to you without delay.”

“Indeed yes,” I said.

He looked at me pleadingly. “How delightful you look so simply attired. I am not sure that you are not even more beautiful like this. I think you are. You do not need the adornments so necessary to other women. Simple, natural, beautiful, the Queen among women…in her natural state…”

He would have embraced me but I held him off.

“My women are close by,” I said. “We want no more gossip.”

“Then let us marry and put an end to it.”

I sighed. “I fear that would be the start of it.”

“My dearest, you would have nothing to fear with me beside you. I would protect you.”

“Oh never fear, Robert, I will protect myself well enough.”

“Then…”

“Now get out, dear Robert. I shall call my women to finish dressing me. I must see Katharine Grey at once.”

SHE STOOD BEFORE ME—a poor frightened girl. I could almost feel sorry for her.

“You had better repeat that tale which Lord Robert has brought to me concerning you,” I said.

She fell on her knees and I went on: “You are very humble today, my lady. That is unusual. Tell me everything.”

“Your Majesty, Lord Hertford and I fell in love when I was at the Seymours' place where I went with Jane. Jane was very anxious for us to marry and helped us.”

I nodded grimly. “So Hertford had to be pressed into it, did he?”

She did not answer.

“Well,” I said, “so you married. What witnesses have you? Where is the priest? Girls dally with men, I know, and then are amazed at the consequences.”

“Madam,” she said with some dignity, remembering doubtless that she had a claim to the throne. “Lord Hertford and I are married.”

“Well, then you should have no difficulty in proving it. Where is the priest who married you… without my consent I would like to add. I shall have a few words to say to that gentleman.”

“I do not know his name, Your Majesty. I do not know where he is now. It was a secret ceremony in my lord's lodging.”

“But you must have had a witness.”

“It was Jane.”

“Jane is dead,” I said. “So there is no witness and no priest. But there is a husband, so you tell us.”

“I do indeed,” she said quickly.

“Do you realize that you have committed treason? Do you know of the law?”

“I know it, Your Majesty.”

“You shall be taken this day to the Tower of London and there you will be held. Hertford shall be sent for and we shall hear his side of the story.”

“It will be the same as mine, Your Majesty.”

“Let us hope so. Go to your apartment and prepare to leave.”

She bowed and retired, looking relieved. She had been in a state of acute anxiety and was clearly glad to give up her secret even though it meant that she had become a prisoner in the Tower.

ONE OF MY RIVALS was safely in the Tower but I felt very uneasy about her. There was bound to be talk and fresh urgings for me to marry when she showed that she could produce offspring; and if it were a boy I should be doubly bothered.

There were also rumblings in the direction of that other—and to my mind more dangerous—rival. Mary Queen of France and Scotland was in somewhat desperate straits and that at least gave me some pleasure. The spoilt darling of the French Court was so no longer. The King of France had died at the joust when a splinter had entered his eye and his son Franois, husband of my rival, had come to the throne to occupy it for a very short time. Poor boy, he had always been a weakling and it was said that his mother, Catherine de' Medici, who had a reputation throughout Europe for being one of the most scheming women alive, had, according to certain rumors, hastened his death in order to make way for another son who was completely under her control. Franois, it seemed, like most men, had come under the spell of the fascinating Mary and doubtless would listen to her rather than to his mother. Catherine, however, was one of those who did not find young Mary so enchanting and she was making it clear to her that there was no place for her in France, so there was nothing Mary could do but return to Scotland.

I could imagine how different those dour Scottish nobles would be from the gallant French courtiers and poets who had circulated round Mary. I had seen some of them and I was quite amused to think of her returning to them. On the other hand, I felt apprehensive to have her so close, just across the border, such a dangerous claimant to my throne.

What was particularly galling was that she had had the temerity to emblazon the arms of England on those of Scotland and France, and to style herself Queen of England.

I had to remember that although the country as a whole was against a Catholic monarch, there were a number of ardent Catholics in the land, and if I were to displease them it would not need much to raise protests against me, and there was this woman—supposed to be so fascinating and younger than I—waiting on the other side of the Border.

I knew that I was not unduly disturbed because Cecil was uneasy too.

We had made peace with the French, and there was in existence the Treaty of Edinburgh which set out that those French who had come to Scotland to help the Scots against us must retire; and another clause was that a fine should be paid by Mary for blazoning the arms of England with those of Scotland and France.

This treaty was not yet ratified. Therefore when Mary sent emissaries asking for a safe passage to Scotland, I was incensed. How dared she imagine that I would welcome her presence so close to England when the treaty was unsigned and she was blatantly laying claim to my throne?

When she was made aware of my reaction she pleaded that she had been under the command of her father-in-law, King Henri Deux, and her husband, King Franois; and therefore had no alternative than to call herself the Queen of England. My reply to that was that when the treaty was signed, she should have safe passage. Her excuse then was that she could not sign the treaty until she had consulted with her Scottish subjects, and this she could not do until she reached Edinburgh.

It was clear to me that she had no intention of signing the treaty, and therefore I refused her safe passage.

However, when she was in our waters, a fog arose and she managed to elude the English ships which were searching for her and thus she reached Scotland safely. I was disappointed. I should have liked to detain her in England as my guest. I had thought a great deal about her and not only did I want to know what she was doing but I was also curious to see what she really looked like and if she were as beautiful as she was said to be. Some of the poems those Frenchmen had written about her were too eulogistic even for royalty.

I received a request from her uncle, a member of the famous Guise family whose brothers were the great Duke and that Cardinal of Lorraine who had played such a big part in Mary's life—some said quite a sinister part. This plea for an invitation was from the younger brother but it was one which I found most intriguing. Besides being the Grand Prior of France, he was the commander of the French Navy and I was very eager to meet a member of that family which had played such a large part in shaping the history of France and had at times been more important rulers than the kings.

I was not disappointed. The Grand Prior was a fascinating man. There was little of the churchman about him. He was handsome, possessed of grace and charm, with impeccable manners and just the right touch of foreignness to intrigue me. He was the type of man I had always found extremely attractive.

I made him talk about his niece Mary whom he had known well. Her mother had been his sister and the Guises had taken charge of her when as a child she had first arrived in France. He said she was charming and beautiful and—perhaps because of his beautiful manners—he managed to convey that I was equally so.

I was determined to entertain him royally to show that we in England could treat our visitors with perfect hospitality even when not so long before we had been enemies.

I decided on a banquet to be followed by a ballet.

I had the banqueting hall hung with tapestries representing the parable of the virgins of the Evangelists, and with the Grand Prior seated beside me I explained to him that I had been born in the Chamber of Virgins under the sign of the Virgin which brought out gallant remarks about my not being allowed to remain in the single state for long. To which I replied that the choice lay with me.

His eyes sparkled with Gallic passion and he implied that he would greatly love to be the one who made me change my mind.

I laughed with him. I enjoyed this kind of conversation. Robert glowered a little, but he knew there was nothing to fear from this Frenchman. All the same he was becoming more and more possessive and hated to see anyone take up too much of my attention. He was also growing too bold and because I had granted him favors and shown my regard for him sometimes he behaved as a jealous husband might, and although there were occasions when I was amused at this, at others I was not. I suppose it depended on my mood.

The ballet was a great success. It was performed by my maids of honor representing the ten virgins—the foolish and the wise. They carried silver lamps, beautifully engraved, some carrying oil, some empty.

There was spontaneous applause. I glanced sideways at my handsome Frenchman and could be sure that he was enchanted by the sight, so perhaps it was as elegant as he was accustomed to seeing at the French Court.

The ladies set down their lamps and danced most gracefully. They came to the Prior and his entourage and invited them to dance, which they did.

I was ready to dance because I had arranged as part of the procedure that they should beg me to do so and that I should at first refuse and then give way because I wished to honor the Prior.

Later he complimented me on my dancing, my beauty and the elegance of my Court.

I turned to him smiling and said: “You are so gallant, Monsieur, that I love you, but I hate that brother Guise of yours who took Calais from me.”

“Alas,” he said, “that is war. But on this enchanted night let us not talk of unhappy things. I have seen you dance, and I could never be happy again if I did not have the honor of dancing with you.”

I could dance through the night without the slightest fatigue, so I was delighted; and they all watched while I and the Grand Prior of France danced together.

In due course I said goodbye to the charming Prior and he left for France. I could imagine what questions the Queen-Mother, Catherine de' Medici, would ask of him but I was sure he had been impressed by the manner of his reception, and I did believe that he really had admired me a little.

My thoughts were constantly on Mary of Scotland and they brought me little comfort. Cecil shared my apprehension.

I said to him: “It is not a comforting thought to know that she is just across the Border and does not need to cross the seas to come to England.”

Cecil said: “I know Your Majesty's great desire is for a peaceful reign, and that you agree with me that the best way to keep peace is to prepare for war. I have been meaning to discuss with you, when the time was ripe, the extension of the Navy. We should build more ships. It gives work to our people and work makes prosperity. It is better to spend money on such things than on war… and then should the need arise to defend ourselves we are prepared.”

I smiled at him. “Dear good Master Cecil, I thank God for giving you to me.”

He was moved and I felt better than I had since Mary Stuart had come to Scotland.

I LISTENED TO the young man who sat some little distance from me playing his lute. He had a delicate touch and the music moved me deeply. He was a handsome young man—very tall and elegant; his hair curled prettily about his head, but there was a petulant touch about his mouth. In spite of his handsome looks he was quite unlike men such as Robert Dudley, the kind I so much admired, for there was something almost effeminate about young Lord Darnley.

As I listened I wondered whether that petulance I had noticed was envy. Did the foolish boy really think he should be sitting in my place? It was amazing what notions crept into the mind of those who had a modicum of royal blood.

Of course he was of the male sex and that, in his eyes, set him above any woman however capable, however much closer she was to the throne. The assumption that women were somehow inferior to men always made me burn with indignation. I would show them one day that my sex was no handicap to my power and my ability.

But perhaps my young lute player's dissatisfaction had been inspired by his mother. There was a woman to watch. I was certain that she was up to tricks and had been ever since I came to the throne.

This boy was the second but eldest surviving son of Matthew Stewart, Earl of Lennox, and Margaret Douglas—and Lady Margaret was the daughter of my father's sister, Margaret Tudor. My father and his sister Margaret had never been on good terms, and he had been delighted when she married into Scotland; but Margaret Tudor had all the fire and determination of her race and she had had a very colorful life on the other side of the Border. This Lady Margaret, Countess of Lennox, was the child of her mother's second marriage to Archibald Douglas, Earl of Angus, and she had always been an enemy of mine. She had been a great friend of my sister Mary and I believed she had even had the temerity to fancy she might follow Mary in my place. I discovered that she was responsible for certain activities at the time of the Wyatt Rebellion and had done her best to have me implicated in that affair.

When I came to the throne I extended the hand of friendship to her as I did to so many who had shown a certain animosity to me during my sister's reign for I hoped to win them over; but there are some who cannot be won and for a woman of Lady Lennox's nature together with her strong Catholic leanings and a drop of royal blood, there would always be resentment of me, and she had never overcome the covetous aspirations she had had toward my throne.

She was intriguing in Yorkshire so I brought her and her family to London where the Earl of Lennox was lodged in the Tower and the Countess and Lord Darnley were kept in restraint in the house of Sir Richard Sackville at Shene while inquiries were made concerning their activities.

From Shene the Countess wrote me most appealing letters assuring me of her desire for friendship and it had occurred to me that it would be better to have the family under my eyes at Court rather than intriguing somewhere in the country.

In due course I granted the Earl's request that he might go to Scotland, so he left his lodgings in the Tower and departed. I did not think either the Countess or the Earl were very clever and I was sure that their son would never win the people's approval—so I was not unduly worried about them. If it had not been for their royal connections, I would have dismissed them as nonentities.

However, Lord Darnley certainly knew how to play the lute and any good musician was welcome at my Court.

As I sat listening to him the Scottish Ambassador, Sir James Melville, was at my side and I could see that he too was moved by the music.

When Darnley stopped playing I applauded and the young man came and bowed to me. He had graceful manners and really was a very pretty boy.

I watched the rather dour Melville studying him as Darnley moved off and joined some of the ladies who were inclined to pet him.

I said to Melville: “Our pretty boy has a masterly touch with the lute.”

“Very accomplished,” agreed Melville.

“I believe his mother has ambitions for him.”

“What mother is not ambitious for her son?”

“She is trying to regain her estates in Scotland.”

“That is to be expected.”

Ah, I thought, Master Melville is taken with the pretty boy and his forceful mother. I shall have to watch this.

“I was happy that Your Grace had permitted the Earl to visit Edinburgh,” went on Melville.

“He is going to plead with the Queen of Scots for the restoration of his estates. Let us hope he will be successful.”

“Then I doubt not the Countess and Lord Darnley will join him there.”

I was a little puzzled because I was growing more and more certain that Sir James was working toward some end and it had suddenly occurred to me that it might involve the Lennox family.

I discussed it with Cecil who was always aware of intrigue wherever it sprang up.

“It would seem to me,” said that wise man, “that the Countess might like to see her son married to the Queen of Scotland.”

“Impossible!” I cried.

“Why so? The Queen is a widow. She is very young and will certainly marry.” He looked at me sternly. “She owes it to her people to get an heir.”

I did not answer that and he went on: “Why should it not be Henry Stewart Lord Darnley? He has royal blood; his grandmother was the daughter of a king. And if at the moment he lacks ambition, most certainly his parents do not. His mother is anxious for a crown…of some sort. She once had pretensions to yours, remember. It seems most natural to me that, failing the crown of England, she should set her son trying for that of Scotland.”

“Darnley King of Scotland! I would never agree to that.”

“Once he was in Scotland your consent would not be necessary. Moreover, consider it. What think you of Lord Darnley?”

“Very little. A frivolous, petulant, spoilt boy.”

“That is exactly my opinion. Would it not be better for the Queen of Scots to marry a petulant spoilt boy than a strong man?”

I looked at Cecil and once again I thanked God for him.

“I see,” I said slowly.

“We must certainly wait and see what comes of this matter. We will oppose it in public but in private … let us consider that for England it would not be such a bad thing.”

WE WERE AT Hampton Court and the weather was cold for October. I had not been well for some days and had had a touch of fever. One of my pleasures was to take a bath which many of my ladies thought was bad for my health, but I found that to immerse my body in warm water, and lie there until it was cleansed of its impurities, refreshed me. Since I had become Queen, courtiers had become much cleaner for the simple reason that I had a very sensitive nose and could not bear anything evil-smelling close to me. All at my Court must wash and change their clothes regularly so that there was no unpleasant smell about them when they came into my presence. Consequently the production of soap had greatly increased. When I traveled my bath would be taken with other household goods so that whenever I felt the need I could enjoy complete immersion.

Kat said it was folly when I was not feeling well and she was sure I had some fever, but I told her to be silent; but perhaps she was right for I caught a chill and the next day I had to take to my bed.

When Lord Hunsdon heard that I was unwell, he begged to be allowed to come to see me. I was rather fond of him and he was my first cousin, being the son of my mother's sister Mary. When I came to the throne he had been plain Henry Carey. I gave him a knighthood at once and later created him Baron Hunsdon. I always tried to help the Boleyns and he was one to be proud of because he excelled at the jousts, and not long ago he and Robert had led the lists against all comers in a tournament we had had at Greenwich. I had been so delighted that my cousin and the most important of all men should so excel together.

So I allowed Lord Hunsdon to be brought to me.

When he saw me he fell on his knees by the bed in some alarm and begged me to allow him to summon a doctor in whom he had great trust because he himself had benefited from his skill. So I gave my permission for Dr Burcot to come to see me, and when he came I was furious that I had done so, for the man looked at me, touched my brow, felt the fever and said: “Your Majesty, you have the smallpox.”

The smallpox! The dreaded disease which could be fatal and almost always was! And even if one survived there was a chance of one's being disfigured for life. The thought of my white skin—in which I took such pride—being hideously pitted was more than I could bear.

“I have not got the pox!” I cried. “I will not have the pox! Take this man away. He is a knave. A charlatan. He knows not what he talks of.”

Dr Burcot bowed and retired and I lay back on my bed exhausted with rage and fever.

I lived in fear and each morning I searched my body for the dreaded sign. No spots appeared, but I felt no better. My fever increased. I knew now that they all expected I was on my death-bed and the Privy Council was called together to take a vital decision on the succession. Some naturally thought that Katharine Grey should succeed me; others thought that the choice should fall on Henry Hastings, Earl of Huntingdon, who was a Plantagenet through his descent on his mother's side from Edward IV's brother the Duke of Clarence. He was a strong Protestant and for that reason was sure of favor in many circles. The great fear was that Spain would take action and an attempt would be made to set Mary Stuart on the throne.

I was only vaguely aware of this as I lay in my bed and suddenly I opened my eyes and saw the members of my Council about my bed.

I struggled back to consciousness. This could mean one thing. I was dying.

My first thought was of Robert Dudley, which showed that I truly loved him. I thought: What will become of him? It was his great wish to rule the country and there was no doubt that he had great ability.

I said: “My lords, my end is near. That is why you stand there regarding me so solemnly.”

And when they did not answer, I was sure that it was true.

“I beg of you to name Lord Robert Dudley Protector of the Realm,” I went on. “This is my wish. Be good to my cousin, Lord Hunsdon, who has served me well. Scandal has been talked of me but I swear before God that although I love Lord Robert Dudley and always have, nothing improper has ever passed between us.”

The Council was overcome with emotion and promised me that my wishes should be carried out.

I thanked them and closed my eyes.

But my cousin Hunsdon had great faith in the doctor whom I had dismissed and sent a messenger to him asking him to come back and help me.

Dr Burcot was a German and he made it clear that he took commands from no Englishman or -woman.

“She insulted me!” he cried. “She called me knave. If she would not listen to my advice when I might have saved her, I decline to offer it again.”

The messenger, who believed that I was dying and perhaps for love of me—but more likely because he wanted to keep his master in high favor— took Dr Burcot's coat and boots and told him that if he did not come at once to my bedside he would run him through the heart—and he produced his dagger to prove it.

The doctor was either impressed by such fervor or afraid the man would carry out his threat—in any case he put on his boots and coat and came with all speed to my bedside.

I think I must have been very near death when he arrived. He grumbled that he was almost too late but there might yet be a chance. “The spots must come out,” he said. “And I have to force them out.”

Then he did a most extraordinary thing. He told them to put a mattress by the fire and had my body wrapped in a piece of scarlet cloth. I was then carried to the mattress and laid there, where I was given something to drink which was sweet and soothing. I drank deeply for he made me take as much as I could; and when I had drunk I saw the red blotches beginning to appear on my hands and arms.

“What means this?” I cried.

“I told Your Majesty that you had the pox,” said the doctor. “You called me a knave. Well, now you will see.”

“The pox!” I cried in horror. “I would rather die.”

“Nonsense,” said the doctor whose respect for my rank was nonexistent. “It is better to have the pox outside your body than inside where it can kill you.”

I was overcome with grief though the fever had left me and I could only think that the smallpox marked people permanently. All my pretensions to beauty would be gone. I could not bear that. I realized then what a vain woman I was—vain about trivialities. Almost as much as a great ruler, I wanted to be a desirable woman.

I began to feel better. The terrible fever which had put me in a stupor was passing, but the fearful spots were rapidly covering my face, my arms, in fact every part of my body.

Mary Sidney came to me and said she would be with me day and night and that if I would restrain from scratching the spots there was no reason why I should not emerge with my skin as beautiful as it had ever been.

I never forgot what I owed to Mary Sidney. I knew that she was a good and loyal creature but I had thought her devotion might have been due to a desire to protect her brother's fortunes. Kat would have been with me but she was aging now and not well enough to stand the strain of nursing. But it was comforting at such a time to have someone near me who was so close to Robert.

Mary fed me, washed me, sat with me and watched over me.

I loved her dearly for what she had done for me. And after a while my spots began to fade but I would not leave my apartments until they were completely gone.

Then one day Mary did not come to me. I was desolate when they told me that what we had feared might happen had come to pass. She was suffering from the smallpox.

It did not take long for my skin to heal. I think I was very healthy. I had not overeaten as many of my subjects did—including Robert—and I had always kept my body especially clean. It may be that this helped me. In any case very soon I had completely recovered. For several days I wanted to keep looking at myself. Not a spot! Not a blemish! My skin was as dazzlingly white as it had ever been.

I knew that I owed this to the irascible Dr Burcot and I chided myself for dismissing him so vehemently on the first occasion. If I had not done so, I might have been more quickly cured and to show my gratitude I gave him a grant of land and a pair of golden spurs which had belonged to my grandfather King Henry VII. He thanked me for them in his gruff way, but I believed he was immensely gratified that I had emerged unscathed.

I wanted all those who had shown their love for me to know how grateful I was, but there was one I could never repay.

I cannot get out of my mind the day Mary Sidney came to me. She was cured of the pox and when she came in heavily veiled and knelt at my feet, terrible fears beset me.

“Oh Mary,” I murmured. “So you…”

She lifted the veil and I saw her ravaged face. I could not speak. I was so overcome with emotion. My pretty Mary, to look so hideous, and it had happened because of her devotion to me.

“Oh Mary, Mary!” I cried and we wept together.

“Everything shall be done,” I told her.

But she shook her head sadly. “Nothing can be done,” she said sadly. “And Henry?” I asked. “He said it was just as it ever was between us… but I saw his face and he could not bear to look at me.”

“My dear, dear Mary, you shall always be at my side.”

She shook her head. “There is only one thing I want to do and that is hide myself away.”

“You shall have apartments here … your own apartments. You shall receive only those whom you wish to and, Mary, I shall come to see you every day when I am here…We shall talk together… and, dear Mary, I shall never forget.”

We clung to each other—but there was really no comfort I could offer her. I felt her misery acutely for she had incurred it for my sake and it could so easily have happened to me.

AFTER MY RECOVERY Lettice Knollys came to Court now and then. Although I was a little wary of her because of what I fancied I had seen pass between her and Robert, I was glad to see her. She had a lively wit and now that she was a mother, her beauty seemed to have deepened.

I used to talk to her a good deal and although there were occasions when she irritated me with too frank a comment, I could always give her a slap or a nip which silenced her and reminded her who was the mistress.

I missed poor Mary Sidney sadly, but I had given her very luxurious apartments and, although she rarely emerged from them, I hope she was not too unhappy. Whenever I was in the neighborhood I visited her each day and I would tell her everything that was happening, and we did spend some very happy times together.

I was furious when the Archduke Charles offered himself to Mary Stuart, and as usual I did not restrain my comment. Cecil reproved me, pointing out that although I did not want the man myself I wanted no one else to have him, which I suppose was true.

I wondered if Mary Stuart would take him. I knew the Lennoxes were now openly trying to put forward young Darnley.

Another of my suitors married. This was Eric of Sweden, and it was such a romantic tale that I could not help being affected by it. Apparently he had seen a girl selling nuts outside his palace when he rode in and out, and had become so enchanted by her surpassing beauty that he had fallen violently in love with her and married her.

“How romantic!” I sighed. “Do you know, I think he would have made rather a charming husband. Better,” I added, “than that rake of Austria who offers his hand here and there to whoever he thinks might take it.”

I was greatly interested in Mary Stuart. Would she take the Archduke Charles? What of Don Carlos, son of Philip? They said he was half mad, but would that matter if he were the heir to Spain?

I found myself obsessed by the woman. Was she really as beautiful as people said she was? I wondered how she was faring in those grim Scottish palaces—Holyrood House and Edinburgh Castle. How she must be missing France and those gallant poets. There would not be much poetry in Scotland, gallantry either.

I was always questioning the Scottish Ambassador about her. I would command him to sit beside me and try to make him talk of his mistress.

“I constantly hear of her beauty,” I said. “Do you find her very fair?”

“Aye,” he replied.

“All men are said to admire her. Do you, Master Melville?”

“She is my mistress and I could do nothing else.”

“As your mistress you must serve her and such an upright gentleman as you would admire a hideous hag, I doubt not, if she were your Queen.”

“The Queen of Scotland is not a hideous hag.”

“Tell me of her clothes. They say she is more French than Scottish, and has brought much of France into Scotland.”

“I know little of fashions, Your Majesty.”

“How does she wear her hair? I am told that mine is of a striking color. What is Queen Mary's hair like? Do you think it is of a more attractive color than mine?”

I could not help laughing at the dour young man and I liked to tease him while I was gleaning information about her whom I was beginning to think of as my tiresome rival.

Melville said: “Your Majesty must ask others. I know nothing of such matters.”

“Well, you would not notice your mistress's hair because it is so like that of other ladies, I doubt not. It is only when the hair is of an unusual color and particularly beautiful that people are aware of it. Now answer me this: Who is the more beautiful, the Queen of England or the Queen of Scotland?”

“The Queen of England is the fairest in England and the Queen of Scotland in Scotland.”

“That is no answer,” I cried.

“Your Majesty is pleased to plague this poor Ambassador.”

“My skin is lighter, is it not? My hair fairer?”

“That is true, Your Majesty, but…”

“But what, man?”

“The Queen of Scotland is very beautiful.”

“That is often said, but how much of her beauty does she owe to royalty?”

“The usual amount, Madam.”

Poor man, he did not like this conversation. It must seem very frivolous to a man of his nature. On the other hand he did not want to say anything which when reported to his mistress might displease her. But I was relentless in my desire to know more of this paragon of beauty.

“Who is the taller, she or I?” I demanded.

“She is,” he answered promptly.

“Then she is too tall,” I snapped, “for I am told that I am neither too high nor too low. Does she hunt? Does she read? Does she love music?”

“She does all these, Madam, and is very fond of music.”

“What instruments does she play?”

“The lute and the virginals.”

“Does she play them well?”

“Reasonably well for a queen.”

I said no more then but I was determined that he should admit that there was one thing at least in which I triumphed over that perfect mistress of his.

One day I arranged to play the virginals behind a curtain and instructed some of my ladies to bring Sir James Melville into the room so that he might hear the music and not know who was playing.

He had sat entranced during the performance, they told me, and when it was over he had declared that it was brilliant. When my ladies asked him if he knew who the performer was, he said he did not know, only that he was a fine musician.

“It is the Queen,” they said, and drew back the curtains to disclose me, sitting there.

“Ah, Sir James,” I said, “now you have heard my music. Does your mistress play as well on the virginals?”

He had to admit that he had rarely heard such a performance from any, and he believed that very few could rival me.

“Not even the talented Queen of Scotland?” I demanded with much incredulity.

“No one, Madam. You are indeed a musician.”

That mollified me a little.

Then I danced for him and he had to admit that the Queen of Scots could not leap as high as I could, nor did she dance with such verve.

One day I said to him: “Your Queen is a lady of such talent and overwhelming beauty that I know of only one man worthy of her. You must go to her, Sir James, and tell her that I will offer her the finest man in my kingdom for only she is worthy of him and he of her.”

He was looking at me as though I mocked him.

But I went on: “Oh yes, Sir James, I mean it. I shall rob my Court of its brightest jewel that it may adorn that of this most worthy lady. I offer her as the husband she needs, my dearest friend, Lord Robert Dudley.”

THE NEWS SPREAD around the Court like wildfire. I wondered what effect it would have on Robert and was quite prepared when he came bursting into my apartments with a face of thunder.

I said to the few ladies who were with me: “I see Sir Robert has forgotten again that he is in the presence of the Queen. Pray leave us so that I may deal with him as he deserves.”

They hastily retired and I had no doubt that they would not go too far out of earshot. They all loved to add to the gossip about Robert.

“Well, my lord, what is the meaning of this most unseemly conduct?” I demanded.

He cried: “I have heard this monstrous rumor. It cannot be true. I demand an immediate explanation.”

“Robin,” I replied, “there are times when you try me sorely. Perhaps out of my regard for you I have allowed you certain friendly intimacies. You take advantage of them.”

“I demand to know if you are aware of what is being said.”

“I am the one who makes demands, you should remember.”

He stamped his foot. His face was flushed, his eyes flashing with rage. “They are saying that I am to be sent to Scotland.”

“To marry the most beautiful of queens … according to her Ambassador. Robert, surely you should be dancing with joy at your good fortune.”

“You know of this. It is your doing.”

I lowered my head so that he should not see that I was smiling. He came to me and took me by the shoulders. I could call the guards to arrest him, I reminded him.

He held me against him and shook me.

I said mockingly: “Robin is in a rage.”

“How can you be so heartless?”

“Does a crown mean nothing to you?”

“That one does not,” he said. “And a beautiful Queen to go with it.”

“There is only one Queen for me. You cannot be serious.”

“I am serious,” I said.

He looked at me in bewilderment and I felt I could not tease him anymore, but I did… just a little.

“You have led me to believe …” he began.

“I have led you to believe! Everything you believe, my lord, is in your own mind. How many times have I told you that I will not marry? I will remain a virgin. How many times have I told you that?”

“But you do not mean it.”

“Robin, you want a crown. There is one waiting for you in Scotland.”

“No!”

“And the fairest of queens…”

“The fairest of queens is here, standing before me now.”

“I am not sure that Master Melville would agree with you on that.”

“A barbarian from a barbarous land!”

“Perhaps you are right and it would be unkind to condemn my elegant Robert to that land. Perhaps I had better keep him here. I confess my Court would be a dull place without him.”

He seized my hand and kissed it.

“I am tired of hearing of the perfections of that woman,” I cried petulantly. “Do you think there are some in this land who would rally to her if she came against me?”

“I would soon rout the lot of them,” he boasted. “There is only one Queen for this country and with God's help she will reign over us for years to come.”

He was regaining his assurance. In his heart he must have known I would never let him go.

Again he kissed my hands. He would have kissed more if I had allowed it; but I held him off and he was faintly unsure.

“She will be angry when she hears of my proposal concerning you, Robert. She has said some cruel things about you, called you my horse master who killed his wife in order to make room for me. I hear that she has not a good word to say for me either, and what have I done save take my rightful inheritance, for which she craved? Perhaps she will accept you…and you, Robert, what will you do? You will refuse her. You will let Master Melville and his Scots know that you prefer the hope of a crown with me to a safe one with her.”

“I like this not,” he said.

“I like it well,” I answered.

“You do it to plague me as you ever have done.”

“Perhaps you would be better treated in the Court of Scotland.”

“Don't talk of it,” he said. “There is one place I want to be… here, beside you. Elizabeth, my Queen, have done with this nonsense. Let us marry. It is what everyone wants you to do. Even Cecil would agree to our marriage.”

I said: “Not yet. And, Robert, there is something I have to say to you. Plain Lord Robert could not be acceptable to the Queen of Scots. Her husband must be an earl at least…so I thought this an excellent way of honoring you, and I have decided to create you Earl of Leicester and Baron of Denbigh, a title which, till now, has been used only by royalty. There will be estates to go with your titles. There is the Castle of Kenilworth and Astel Grove…”

He was staring at me with wonder. I knew Robert well. He was rather acquisitive and although he was becoming one of the richest men in the land, he could not have too much.

“I see,” I went on, “that you are well pleased. On your knees, you ungrateful dog, for thinking I would cast you off when all the time I am planning for your pleasure.”

CREATING ROBERT EARL of Leicester was the brilliant ceremony I intended it to be. I had dressed with even more than my usual attention to that important and absorbing matter and I sparkled as I walked to my place in the Presence Chamber with young Lord Darnley going before me, as nearest Prince of the Blood, carrying the sword of state. Surrounding me were several noblemen among them Sir James Melville and Lord Hunsdon who was carrying the velvet ermine-lined mantle which I should put on Robert when the moment came.

Robert followed in surcoat and hood. I was seated as he came forward and knelt before me and Lord William Howard gave me the parchment containing the letters of patent. Then Sir William Cecil read from it in a voice which could be heard throughout the chamber and Lord Hunsdon brought me the peer's robe which I put about Robert's shoulders. As I bent over him and saw the dark hair curling about his neck, I could not resist allowing my fingers to touch it and I tickled him to show how fond I was of him and that my pretending to give him to Mary of Scotland was just a joke so that I could bestow this title upon him.

I saw James Melville watching me, trying to hide his shocked expression, and I was greatly amused. I could not wait to ask him what he thought of my new Earl of Leicester and Baron of Denbigh.

“He is a worthy subject,” replied Melville, “and is a happy man to have such a good prince who can discern and reward his good service.”

“Yet,” I replied, pointing to Darnley, “you like better yonder long lad.” He knew what I was referring to and he said: “No woman of spirit would make choice of a man who was more of a woman than a man, for he is beardless and lady-faced.”

Sly Melville! He did not know how much I had learned of his intrigues with Darnley's mother to get Darnley to Scotland and married to Mary.

He was a wily one, this Melville; but I liked him for his loyalty to his mistress and the manner in which he had always sought to defend her even over the matter of her beauty and her achievements.

I was so proud of Robert as the second part of the ceremony took place. He looked so magnificent in his robes and it gave me the greatest pleasure to place the white sash over his right shoulder and present him with the sword and fix his cap and coronet. And there he was, standing before me in all his glory, my Robert, now the mighty Earl of Leicester.

His eyes glittered as he looked at me and I was overwhelmed by my love for him. I could see from the triumph in his eyes that he believed that this was a preliminary to marriage … our marriage. And in that moment I almost felt that I could have acquiesced. Almost… but not quite.

The trumpets sounded and we went to dine in the Council Chamber. It was a glorious and triumphant occasion.

Afterward some of the guests came to my bedchamber where the glow of candles flickered over the rooms giving a pleasant intimacy. I had rarely seen Robert so happy. This honor would mean that people regarded him with even greater awe than ever. It was four years since his wife had been found dead at the bottom of a staircase. Had people forgotten? I had an idea they never would. But at least they could not now believe that I had been implicated in the murder, for why, if I had agreed to Amy's removal that I might marry Robert, had I not married him now that he was free? Some- times it seemed clear to me that I must never marry him for if I did—whatever the lapse of time—I should be suspected.

I was glad to see that William Cecil and Robert were talking together in the utmost amity. They had always been suspicious of each other but Cecil was so obsessed with the idea that I must marry and get a child that he was almost inclined to smile on Robert as a means of achieving that end.

Sometimes I wished that I had not the ability to see quite so clearly, for to see many sides to a question makes one uncertain. I liked Robert's company more than that of any other person; I was happy when he was near me and dissatisfied when he was not. Is that loving? Yet on the other hand I saw him just too clearly for comfort; he was avaricious, arrogant, determined to dominate all who came near him, ruthless in the extreme … yes, even enough to commit murder if the need were dire enough. All this I knew, yet I loved him. I should never be sure how Amy Robsart died, whether it was accident, suicide or murder… never wholly sure, and if it were really true that he killed her, should I not be very wary of a man who could act so to a woman whom he must have loved at one time? Then again it might have been that I was fascinated by Robert because I was unsure of him. I would not want a dull man like my cousin Lettice's Walter Devereux. There was a man who could be relied upon to do his duty to his country and his family. Yet such a man would tire me so much that I would not want him near me for long. I wondered how Lettice fared with him. She seemed happy enough; but she was sly. One would never know what Lettice was up to. It would not surprise me if she were deceiving poor Walter Devereux. But my feelings for Robert? Well, I loved him, I suppose—and I loved him as he was—ruthless and mysterious.

Melville was beside me and he asked me what I thought of his Queen's letter regarding the proposed match with the Earl of Leicester.

I replied: “She angrily refused him. I will employ lawyers to seek out who should be next in succession to me. I would wish it were your Queen more than any other, Sir James. My father had a wish to unite England and Scotland and would have declared his sister Margaret's son, James V of Scotland, next in line of succession after his daughter Mary; but at that time I was not yet born and there was my brother Edward to come. So it would seem that when I should die your Queen could likely come to the throne of England.”

“There may be heirs of Your Majesty's body.”

“Nay, I do not think that likely, Sir James. I was never of a mind to marry unless I was compelled by my sister's harsh behavior toward me to do so. But as you know I stood out against it and my victory brought me freedom. I have promised myself that I shall remain a virgin.”

“Madam,” he answered with his Scots canniness, “you need not tell me that. I know your stately stomach. Ye think gin ye were married ye would be but Queen of England, but now ye are King and Queen baith. Ye would not suffer a commander.”

I smiled at him. He understood me well.

“Come,” I said, “I will show you some of my treasures. I have them here to hand.” I opened my desk in which I kept miniatures of those of my friends whom I loved best. I had carefully wrapped them and written their names on them so that I could select them and study them at will. On one of these I had written “My Lord's Picture”. I unwrapped it and showed it to Melville. It was a very good likeness of Robert.

I said: “If the Queen of Scots saw it she would not hesitate to take him. What think you, Sir James?”

“Allow me to take it to her.”

I almost snatched the picture from his hands. “I have only this one of him. If he goes to Scotland she would have the original.”

I certainly was not going to give up Robert's picture. I feared that if the Scottish Queen saw how handsome he was, she might decide to take him in spite of his lack of royal blood.

No, Robert's picture was certainly not going to Scotland.

When I was alone in my bedchamber and my ladies concerned themselves with the intricate operation of preparing me for my bed, unlacing me, helping me out of my whalebone hips and petticoats, letting down my hair, placing the false pieces in their tray, I was feeling contented.

I knew which way I was going.

THERE WAS FURTHER trouble with the Grey family. It had been said that Jane Grey was remarkable for her wisdom. Perhaps—but it had not prevented her from going to the block before she was seventeen. They had no instinct for survival, those foolish Grey girls.

All the same they were a menace. Katharine was still under restraint. But she had given birth to two sons. The first was understandable, for she had achieved that in secret, but when her husband had been in the Tower with her they had contrived to meet and a second son was the result. Now a possible heiress to the throne who had two sons was in a fairly strong position, especially when the reigning Queen had declared her desire for virginity and was now past thirty. A plague on Katharine Grey! I thought; but it was entirely due to the plague's coming to London that she had been removed from the Tower and while her husband Lord Hertford was sent to his mother with the eldest child, she with the younger went to her uncle in Essex.

Of the three Grey girls Jane did seem the only one to have had any sense, for although she had lost her head it was through no fault of hers. The other two, Katharine and Mary, seemed quite feckless. I had not anticipated trouble from Mary. She was a poor creature, almost a dwarf. I suppose few men had looked her way—royal-blooded though she was—until one day she formed an acquaintance with a man who held a post at Westminster Palace. He was in fact distantly—very distantly—connected with the Knollys family and I supposed that was why he had been given the post of Sergeant Porter at the water gate. The foolish pair decided to marry secretly and this they did.

The match was most unsuitable in every way. Dwarf as Mary was, she, being royal, committed an offense by marrying without the consent of the Sovereign and the Council. Perhaps the silly creature thought it did not matter in her case. But the incongruity of the match was that Thomas Keys, the bridegroom, was unusually tall and the pair must have looked ridiculous together.

What if there should be a child of the marriage? It might be quite a presentable child for if she was minute he was large enough and the child could be somewhere in between which would make it normal, and through Mary it would have royal blood and a claim to the throne.

There was only one thing to do and that was separate the pair, so Thomas Keys was sent to the Fleet prison and little Mary to the Duchess of Suffolk, who was her step-grandmother. If she were not already pregnant that would prevent further complications.

Cecil discussed the matter with me in private.

I said to him: “We have the two Grey sisters under restraint, and so should sleep more quietly in our beds.”

He looked at me shrewdly. I think he was beginning to respect me more than he ever had. He had deplored the frivolous side of my nature and that I could understand, for sometimes I deplored it myself, but I think he was beginning to see that there were times when I could use it to advantage.

I went on: “Mary of Scotland will always be the one to be feared most, and she is so taken with Lord Darnley that she is besotted by him.”

“She intends to marry him. It will strengthen her claim, for he has a slight one himself.”

“What do you think of Darnley?”

“Dissolute and weak.”

“And do you think he will be a help to our lady of Scotland?”

Cecil shook his head.

“She has declared her intention of marrying him,” I said. “The little boy is puffed up with pride and already sees himself as the King of Scotland which …” I added slyly … “is what happens with ambitious men when queens lift them from their humble status.”

Cecil smiled. He was beginning to realize that I would never share my throne with any.

“Well, Master Cecil,” I went on, “here we have the Grey girls in restraint where they can do little harm even if they had the wit to do so. Oh, I know they would be merely the figureheads of ambitious men as poor Jane was, but we have them safely under lock and key. And Mary of Scotland is to marry her Darnley. May she have quick joy of him for I'll warrant it will not last long.”

Cecil nodded and I went on: “Should I not have reason for rejoicing?”

“Your Majesty is right,” he said. “We should rejoice.”

And we did even more when the news came to us that Mary had indeed married Darnley and he was proclaimed King of Scotland.

“I am confining the Countess of Lennox to the Tower for daring to bring the marriage about—another troublemaker out of the way. We shall deplore the marriage in public, Master Cecil, and only while we are alone congratulate ourselves that it has taken place.”

“It can bode no good for Scotland,” said Cecil. “And what is bad for Scotland must needs be good for England.”

A TERRIBLE TRAGEDY occurred about this time.

I knew that Kat had been ailing for some time. I insisted that she remain in her bed and pass on her duties to others which she did most reluctantly, until she became too ill to be able to do anything else.

When it was borne home to me that she was not going to recover, I was overcome with grief and whenever I could escape from my state duties I was at her bedside. She loved to hold my hand and talk of the past. Sometimes her mind wandered and I believe she thought she was back in the Dower Palace at Chelsea where Sir Thomas Seymour had pursued me.

“You were a wayward girl,” she said. “You led him on. Oh, it was dangerous … and so exciting. Do you remember when he cut your dress to pieces in the garden? Do you remember when he came barefoot to your bedroom?”

I said I remembered.

“And the terrible time they took me … and Parry, remember? The Tower … I never knew such fear … and I betrayed you, I betrayed my darling…”

Then I would go down on my knees and try to soothe her.

She had never betrayed me, I told her. She had only told what had happened and they had forced her to do that. She was my very dear Kat and one of the happiest days of my life had been when she had come back from the Tower.

So we talked and each day she grew more wan, her voice more faint, and she could not remember very clearly those events from the past. She merged Thomas Seymour with Robert Dudley. “Such men,” she said. “The most handsome men in the world… both of them. We both loved them, didn't we, my precious.”

I hid my tears from her but when I was in my bedchamber I wept for my dearest friend.

It was a very sad day when she died. I shut myself away and would see no one. There was nothing I could do but grieve.

THE POSSIBILITY OF A marriage for me still excited the minds of all those about me. I think Cecil had realized that I was speaking the truth when I told him I would never marry, but being the politician he was he was as interested as I was to receive offers from heads of state with whom he was eager to make alliances.

Catherine de' Medici was offering her son, now Charles IX, and as he was about sixteen years of age and I was past thirty we should have made a somewhat incongruous pair. Moreover I believed he was a little mad, but the crown of France, as Cecil pointed out, was not to be lightly turned aside. I replied that as Queen of England I should be expected to live here and as he was King of France he must be in France; I reminded him of the unsatisfactory state of affairs between Philip of Spain and my sister Mary. It was one of those points which people like to argue over and which are always so useful in making negotiations hang out over a long time. I always looked for them because although I was determined not to marry abroad—or anywhere—I found discussing the possibilities too fascinating to cast on one side. Then it was suggested that as the King of France would certainly have to stay in France why should I not take his brother the Duc d'Anjou. The age difference would be even greater, I said. But talks went on.

Then I made a discovery which infuriated me. I had suspected for some time that my cousin Lettice Knollys was interested in Robert and he in her. I had dismissed this because she was married to Devereux, and although for a girl of her nature that might not be an obstacle to a passionate friendship with another man, I did not think that Robert would jeopardize his future so certainly as to have a relationship with someone so close to me. That there were women in Robert's life I accepted. He was a normal man and I would not have had him otherwise. His wife was dead—not that he had spent much time with her—and I expected that he would have light affairs outside the Court, and I imagined that when he indulged in them he would be thinking with regret how different these women were from the prize he coveted.

I had often watched Lettice. She really was a very beautiful woman. That she was restless, I guessed, for it was clear that Walter Devereux would not satisfy her and I had given him a post which kept him in Ireland for most of the time. He was an excellent administrator but a dullard in company I could well believe.

I should have sent her away from Court before it happened because my instinct told me that any man on whom Lettice set her fancy would not escape very lightly, and that in many ways she would call the tune. In a manner of speaking she was not unlike myself. Perhaps that was why I felt I understood her so well.

I intercepted those glances; I noticed how embarrassed some of my ladies were when I referred to Lettice and Robert, so I was sure.

I felt like summoning them both to my presence and banging their heads together, and then dismissing them from Court. No! I would not give them a chance to be together. They should be clapped into the Tower.

This was folly. I must curb my temper. If I said I would marry Robert he would drop Lettice tomorrow like a piece of hot pie that burned his fingers. But that was too big a price to pay even to discountenance them.

I asked Lettice about her husband and whether she missed him. She made vague answers and I found myself accusing her of clumsiness, taking great pleasure in nipping her arms till she cried out in pain. Sometimes I slapped her with real venom, and because she received these marks of my displeasure with a veiled smile, almost of derision, I wondered whether she suspected I knew.

Robert did not appear to notice any change in my demeanor but then he was not as subtle as Lettice.

I had always liked handsome people around me, particularly men, and I let myself believe that they all meant the charming things they said to me. They all behaved as though they were in love with me—indeed that was one of the passports to my favor, and some of them did it remarkably well.

I had my favorites from time to time and I liked them to work well for me as well as admire me. Cecil was an exception. I did not want compliments from him; he would never have known how to pay them in any case. What I asked from him was all he was prepared to give—devoted service and the truth. Robert was unique. Whatever should come between us I knew could not be lasting. My love for him was a steady flame, yet something which appeared to be in danger of being doused, but I knew never would.

Two of my favorite young men at this time were Christopher Hatton and Thomas Heneage. Both were extremely handsome, with impeccable Court manners; they knew how to dress immaculately and behave in the manner necessary to gain my favor. Hatton was one of the best dancers I had ever seen, and he and I dancing together were a spectacle to make watchers spellbound. He was clever too.

Thomas Heneage was older but none the less charming. I had appointed him a Gentleman of the Bedchamber soon after my accession and he had a seat in Parliament as member for Stamford.

Robert had already shown some jealousy of these two for he could never bear to see me show favor to anyone else and till now it had always been clear that however others pleased me there was one who remained firm in my affections.

However, I was very angry with Robert over Lettice and I was determined to show him that my fancy was not so deeply set on him that I could not feel affection for others.

The opportunity came on Twelfth Night when the great event of the evening was the ceremony of the King of the Bean. It was a variation of a game which had been played for centuries when some little device is used to name the one who will be honored for the evening and whom, until midnight, all must obey.

In this version, the Bean was placed on a silver platter and carried in with great ceremony by one of the pages who knelt before me and presented it to me. Then I would take the Bean and bestow it on the man of my choice who would then be nominated. The first thing the King of the Bean demanded— and it was a rule that all must obey that night—was to kiss the Queen's hand.

I always pretended to ponder and regard the gentleman before me earnestly as though assessing his right to the honor of the Bean, but I invariably bestowed it on the one who seemed to me to outshine all others. That, of course, always had to be Robert.

On this night, seated about me were several of my favorite young men and among them Robert, Heneage and Christopher Hatton.

Robert did not know the extent of my annoyance with him for he was smiling preparing to accept the Bean.

However, just as he was moving forward to kneel before me and be ready to take it, I cried out in ringing tones: “I name Sir Thomas Heneage King of the Bean.”

I was almost sorry to see the change in Robert's face. He turned quite pale and his lips tightened while he looked as though he could not believe his ears. Much as I wanted to punish him for his philanderings, I felt sorry for him and I was sure that anything that had happened was the fault of that woman, Lettice Knollys.

Sir Thomas however was overcome with delight and was kneeling before me looking up at me with that brand of adoration which was so pleasing when it came from an attractive man.

“Come, Thomas,” I said, “make your demands.”

He looked at me almost wonderingly, and when I held out my hand for him to kiss, all the time I was watching Robert's glowering looks.

The evening progressed. Robert disappeared for a while and I noticed Lettice Knollys did too. I did not ask where they were but I noticed the time they were away and I was growing more and more angry. I had to restrain myself from sending someone to find them and bring them back to me; but that of course would be folly. It was almost as though Robert did not care that I had passed him over for Heneage. Oh, but he did! I had seen his face when I gave the Bean to Sir Thomas.

I danced a great deal that night, first with Heneage and then with Hatton. The floor cleared while Hatton and I performed and everyone applauded wholeheartedly. Sir Thomas forbade any to use the floor while we danced for he said everyone would want to see the most perfect, lively yet elegant performance of the Queen. I saw Robert come back to the ballroom. Lettice was not with him but they would not be so foolish as to return together but I was sure they had been with each other. I noticed, too, the furtive glances which were cast at Robert. He must have been aware of them, too. People were whispering about him, asking themselves if this was the end of his favor with me and whether I was thinking of setting either Heneage or Hatton up in his place. It must have been galling for Robert and I almost called him to me to comfort him and to show these crowing courtiers that they were quite wrong. My anger with him would pass as soon as he gave up sighing for my cousin Lettice and turned his attention entirely on me. But this was part of his punishment and I must not weaken toward him.

Sir Thomas announced that there was to be a game of Question and Answer, one which was played frequently at Court revels and as he was the King of the Bean, Heneage would say how it was to be played on this night. He would select the questions and then say who was to ask them of whom. I guessed, of course, that Robert would be selected for Heneage was as jealous of Robert as Robert was of him, and having seen Robert suffer the humiliation of not being selected to take the Bean, he would be only too ready to submit him to further discomfort.

“I command my Lord Leicester to ask a question of the Queen,” declared Heneage.

Robert calmly waited while Heneage said slowly: “The question is, Which is more difficult to erase from the mind, an evil opinion created by an informer or jealousy?”

I smiled at Robert as he turned to me and repeated Heneage's words.

I thought: You are indeed jealous, my dear Robert, and I suppose so am I. How foolish we are to cause each other pain.

And I replied: “My Lord Leicester, they are both hard to be rid of, but jealousy would seem to be the harder.”

Applause rang out as though I had said something profoundly wise, but Robert had flushed and he did not meet my eye.

It had not been a very amusing evening for me. I missed him for he disappeared again. He was indeed piqued. I was very sorry but I did not intend to allow him to carry on his philandering at my Court.

WHEN I HEARD that Robert was going to fight a duel I was filled with apprehension. It was exciting to know that they were fighting for my favor but terrifying to contemplate that Robert might receive some injury or—a prospect which appalled me—be killed.

It appeared that on the morning after the night of the Bean, Robert had sent a messenger to Heneage telling him that he was going to call and he would be bringing a stick with him for he had to administer a lesson. There could be only one response to that and Heneage made it. The Earl of Leicester would be very welcome and Sir Thomas Heneage would be waiting for him with a sword.

This was ridiculous.

I sent for Heneage. There was a hushed atmosphere in the royal apartments. I knew my ladies were whispering together just out of sight; their eyes would be sparkling with anticipation as they speculated on the outcome. They were all certain that Robert was falling out of favor, the idiots—as if he ever would! As for Heneage, he was a good-looking man and I did not want him hurt either.

Lettice was there. I should send her off. It would be simple to dismiss her and pack her off to her husband's house. But in a way that would be to admit defeat and to imply that I could not beat her on equal terms.

However, my first task was to stop this absurd duel.

Heneage knelt before me all eagerness. I really believe he thought he had increased my regard for him. Perhaps he was planning to kill Robert and hand me his head on a charger. The fool! If he harmed Robert—however slightly—I would never forgive him.

“So, Master Heneage,” I said, “you have decided to fight duels, have you, when you know I forbid such folly?”

“Your Majesty,” he began, raising his bewildered eyes to mine, “I…I but sought to teach a lesson…”

“So you have become a tutor, have you, my merry man. You would teach the Earl of Leicester good manners, would you, disregarding your Sovereign's wishes and strutting about waving your sword!”

“Your Majesty, the Earl of Leicester began this by threatening me…”

I pupped with my lips which they all knew was my way of expressing contempt. I kept him on his knees while I made it very clear that I would have no dueling in my realm.

“If you think to win my favor with your buccaneer's ways you are mistaken. I will not have brawling… and screaming of abuse. Though…if you must fight, fight with words.”

“Your Majesty …” There was a certain protest in his voice. I suddenly had a picture of Robert lying mortally wounded on a stretch of grass with a triumphant Heneage standing over him and I could not bear it. I brought up my hand and gave Heneage a stinging blow about the head.

I watched the red blood flow into his face; he put up his hand and I was rather sorry for him. After all this had all come about through their feelings for me and if it was ambition which prompted them rather than love, I could not blame them for that.

“There, Master Heneage, you may go, and next time prate not so freely of using your sword against another of my subjects, wreaking damage on him… and yourself.”

He went out shamefacedly and feeling sorry for him I called out: “I like to see you too well at my Court, Master Heneage. Remember that.”

The smile came back to his face. He bowed as he retired; and I did not think he would dare challenge Robert again.

Then I sent for Robert.

If he had come humbly I think I should have forgiven him and then asked him outright about his affair with Lettice, banished her from Court and taken him back; but he was truculent. In a way I would not have had him pleading, and although part of me wanted him to, I was glad there was nothing mealy-mouthed about Robert. He flattered me; perhaps he professed to love me more than he did; but if part of that love was for the crown, there was still a large measure for me alone.

He was sullen, aloof, proud, telling me quite clearly that although I was the Queen he considered himself my equal—and that was something I would not endure.

I said: “So you think fit to flout my rules and brawl with Heneage?”

“I cannot submit to insults from such men.”

“Such men? What mean you? Heneage is a worthy member of my Court.”

“If Your Majesty thinks so…”

“I do think so. I tell you I think so.”

He lifted his shoulders almost contemptuously and I thought: This is what comes of showing too much favor to one man. This arrogant Robert needs a lesson and by God's Blood he shall have it.

“I have wished you well,” I cried and my voice grew louder as I continued: “But my favor is not so locked up in you that others may not have a share of it. I have other servants besides my Lord Leicester. I would have you remember, Master Dudley, that there is one mistress here and no master. I have raised up some, but they can as surely be lowered, and so they shall be if they assume an arrogant impudence because once they enjoyed my favor.”

Robert was stunned. I admit now that I was a little, too. I was angry and deeply hurt, to see him standing there so far apart from me, his face as handsome in anger as it ever was. I almost put my arms about him and promised him that I would marry him after all.

But the sterner side of me said no. Have you not seen what happens to a man when a little power passes into his hands? What did Melville say of you: You will brook no commander. Remember it, for Melville is right.

So I stood there and for a few moments we stared coldly at each other in silence.

Then he spoke quietly and said: “Your Majesty, I ask your permission to retire from Court.”

“You have it,” I said, “and the sooner the better.”

He was gone, leaving me angry, deeply wounded and desperately unhappy.

HOW DULL THE COURT was without him! I was fractious and illtempered. When I sat through the long process of preparing myself for the evening's revelries, I was constantly shouting at my ladies until they were reduced to such nervousness that they were even more clumsy than they would otherwise have been; and this added to my irritability. All the intricate processes of getting into bone and buckram, the tight lacing, the whalebone hips, the petticoats, the glittering picadillie ruffs, the gorgeous gowns of velvets and brocades glittering with pearls and precious stones… they all seemed pointless because Robert would not be there to see me. Lettice was still waiting on me, and I did have the satisfaction of knowing that, in any case, he was not with her.

I heard that he had gone to Kenilworth which had come into his possession with the title, and that he was making it into one of the most magnificent castles in the country.

I wondered if he missed the Court and me.

They were saying: This is the end of Leicester. His day is over. Well, he had a good running. Who will take his place?

Idiots! I thought. As if anyone could take his place!

One of Robert's chief enemies was Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. I had favored Howard when I came to the throne because of his connection with my mother's family; moreover I needed his support because he was one of the leading peers in the country; but I never liked him. I thought he was arrogant and stupid with it.

Many of them were jealous of the favor I showed to Robert, of course, and Norfolk particularly so since the incident at the tennis court some little time before which I had forgotten.

I had been watching Robert play with Norfolk. My father had excelled at the game and loved to play it before spectators for he always won (it was the rule of the Court that no one should beat him). Therefore he had liked a goodly company of lookers-on, especially beautiful women.

In this particular game Robert was winning for he was very skilled in all games and although, like my father, he hated to be beaten, in Robert's case he had to win by skill.

This he was doing and Norfolk was becoming more and more disconcerted especially as when Robert made a good stroke I clapped my hands and my ladies naturally did the same.

During a pause in the game with Robert well in ascendance, he came to my side. I smiled at him lovingly and he returned my smile.

“You are too hot, Robin,” I chided him. “You will take a chill.”

At which he took my mockinder—a sort of handkerchief—from my girdle and mopped his brow with it. I must admit that I was a little taken aback by such an act of familiarity in public, but it pleased me in a way, even though I knew that it was such gestures which gave substance to the gossip that we were lovers.

Norfolk had seen it and he cried out: “You impudent dog! You insult the Queen!”

He approached Robert brandishing his racquet and I thought there would be a fight in my presence. I was too startled to cry out and before I could do anything to put an end to the scene, Robert had seized Norfolk's hand which held the racquet, twisting it so that the Duke yelled in pain and the racquet dropped to the ground.

I could blame Norfolk absolutely for he had started the brawl. I shouted then: “How dare you, Norfolk! How dare you behave in such a way before me! Look to it, or it may not be only your temper which is lost.”

Norfolk was immediately subdued. He wanted to explain but I silenced him and he asked leave to retire.

“That I willingly give,” I cried. “And pray do not return until I send for you.” Then I turned to Robert and I said: “Methinks, my lord Norfolk does not like to be beaten at tennis. Not only does he lose the game but his temper with it. And you, my lord Leicester, are somewhat overcome by the heat. Pray be seated and cool yourself.”

I indicated that he should sit beside me and as he did so, I took the mockinder and replaced it in my girdle.

So now that Robert appeared to be in decline Norfolk would be jubilant and with the help of Sussex and Arundel he thought he could destroy Robert forever.

I was sure that they were behind the diabolical plan, when rumors started to circulate once more concerning the death of Amy Robsart.

It appeared that John Appleyard, Amy's half-brother, had stated that he had received large sums of money from Robert at the time of Amy's death for his services in suppressing certain facts and now his conscience demanded that he make those facts known.

I could imagine them all—Norfolk, Sussex and Arundel—rubbing their hands together with glee. Leicester is out of favor. Let us kick him while he is down. Let us destroy the gentleman once and for all.

Robert might survive my disfavor and occupy himself away from Court, but if he were found guilty of murder, what then?

Old scandals did not easily die. Skeletons remained to confront the unwary. But they had forgotten that if Robert could not afford to have the circumstances of Amy Robsart's death brought into prominence, nor could I.

I thought of him surrounded by the splendors of Kenilworth. Was he as lonely as I, as wretched without me as I was without him?

I knew what I would do. I would recall him to Court. I would show my favor to him. I would let him know that when he was in danger there was one who would not forget him.

I sent for him.

He came back with all speed. I shall never forget the moment when he came into my chamber. He knelt at my feet and I touched his head—that dark curling hair which I loved so much.

I said: “Rob, the Court has been dull without you.”

“Elizabeth,” he said. “My beautiful Elizabeth.”

Then he was kissing my hands and I felt near to weeping.

“You are an evil man to displease me,” I cried emotionally. “Never… never do it again.”

He stood up and would have embraced me but I stepped back. Too much emotion might betray me into taking steps which I would regret later.

I said: “I want to discuss that knave Appleyard with you.”

So we talked and it was as it used to be. He told me how lonely he had been, how pointless life was and he had not much cared when Appleyard had brought his monstrous accusations against him.

“The rogue shall be made to eat his words,” I said. “I doubt not that now you are back with me Norfolk and the rest will be less anxious to bay at your heels.”

“May God bless Your Majesty now and forever.”

“Oh Robin,” I said quietly, “it pleases me to have you back.”

I ORDERED THAT John Appleyard be arrested and examined by the Privy Council and I commanded Cecil to interrogate him first; and then the other members of the Council should do so. This included Norfolk and Sussex. But I had no fear of them. My favor had drawn their teeth, and as Cecil realized the need to discredit Appleyard, for accusations against Robert could incriminate me, I could rely on the matter's being brought to a satisfactory conclusion.

I was right to act as I did. Appleyard confessed that he had received money from Robert, but as he was his brother-in-law there seemed nothing significant in this. He had, he admitted, asked Robert for money and Robert had considered his demands as blackmail to which he would not submit, and had cut off all communications with him. That had been the state of affairs when he had been approached by two men who offered him money to reopen the scandal. He was ashamed to say that he had agreed to do this.

He was a frightened man and I was grateful to Cecil for proving that this had only come to light because Appleyard knew that Robert was out of favor at Court. We did not know who the men were who had approached him, but I was ready to swear that Norfolk had had a hand in it.

Appleyard was all contrition; he pointed out that he did not believe his half-sister had been murdered and that all he would say—even when bribed—was that he believed, because of the Earl of Leicester's standing at Court, the matter had not been sifted properly. He had merely asked for a reopening of the investigation.

The minutes of the inquest were presented to him but it was discovered that the man could not read and they had to be read to him.

Here was a man who could not read, who had first taken money from Robert—although it had been given out of generosity to a brother-in-law— and who had accepted bribes from the men who would not come into the open, but wanted to bring a case against the Earl of Leicester which they thought at this time might succeed.

The whole case clearly had its roots in malice.

Cecil and I agreed that no revenge should be taken on Appleyard. We wanted no martyrs. All we wanted was no more talk about a matter which was best forgotten. So Appleyard was discharged with a warning that he should take more care in future.

Robert was back in higher favor than ever. I did not think he would lightly displease me again, and I was very happy to have him beside me.

As a precaution I summoned Lettice's father, who was the Treasurer of the Royal Household, and I told him that I did not like wives and mothers to be separated from their families for too long, and I thought it would be better if his daughter returned to her husband.

Her husband was in Ireland, he told me.

But I frowned and said her children would be missing her.

It was good enough. He knew that it was my wish that Lettice should retire from Court.

So she went and that, I thought, will be the end of Robert's little flutter with that woman which had caused me such unnecessary trouble.