Страница 103 из 145
When he saw my face he paused for I was glowering at him.
“So, my lord Leicester,” I said, “you are making plans to advance your wife's family.”
He was a little taken aback. How long, I wondered, had he been working in the dark to bring about these marriages behind my back? That made the whole project even worse. It was deceitful. He was a wicked man, my Robert.
“I…er… thought there was no harm…Of course my son is but a baby yet…”
“Royal princes are often betrothed in their cradles and grand alliances are made for them,” I cried. “It is a pretty pass when plans are made for royal marriages and kept in secret from the only one who could give permission for them to take place. You have too high an opinion of yourself, Robert Dudley. You and that she-wolf give yourselves too many airs. How dare you seek to set your son on the throne!”
“Your Majesty, I never thought for one moment—”
“You never thought for one moment! You would marry your son to Arabella Stuart. I can see how your mind works, my lord. Arabella Stuart, daughter of Charles Stuart, whose brother Darnley married Mary of Scotland. Arabella's father is the grandson of my father's sister. Royal co
Robert had turned pale.
“How can you talk so? You know that if aught happened to you, my very desire for living would be at an end.”
“I should not let that trouble you, Robert Dudley. You would have your she-wolf to comfort you … and her cubs all bringing you close to the throne.”
He said: “It was merely an idea. When one has responsibilities to others, one has to seek the best for them.”
“Oh yes, indeed. I tell you this: I will see that no such glory comes to your wife… through her cubs. You will regret the day you married her. Her daughter is like her… leading Philip Sidney on to write poems about her and then to marry Rich…I suppose because he lived up to his name.”
“She married Rich most reluctantly,” said Robert.
“Oh? Had she her eyes on James of Scotland?”
“You misjudge her.”
“Poof! I am glad Philip Sidney is having Walsingham's girl and not marrying into that breed. That must be a comfort for your sister. And as for your plans, they are at an end. Do you understand?”
“They had not gone very far. Just an idea…”
“Robert Dudley, I advise you to curb your ideas. They could carry you into trouble.”
He did not speak and as always when he was downcast I was sorry for him.
I had already made up my mind that the suggestions for these grand marriages had come from her not him. After all, they were for the glorification of her children.
I dismissed him, pretending to be angry with him, but after a few days he was back; and it was as though that incident had never happened.
I SUFFERED A sad loss that year. I had a great affection for my men, and although it was a different kind of love I had for some than for others, my feelings went deep. Sussex was a man I had admired; he was not exactly in the courtier class; there had never been any frivolous flirtation with him, but I had respected him. He lacked the brilliance of men like Burghley and Bacon, nor had he the astuteness of Walsingham; he lacked the charm of Robert, Hatton and Heneage and such. But he was a good man—a man of high principles. Many were the differences I had had with him, but I respected him for that. He had been ill for some time and I hated illness. It frightened me. They all knew this and did not speak of it in my presence— except in the case of Robert, who used it to extricate himself from difficult situations. That was different. Real illness was a depressing subject and because those about me knew how I felt regarding it, they behaved as though it did not exist.
I had seen Sussex laboring to get his breath and trying to pretend this was not so. I had insisted on one occasion that he go to the baths at Buxton, and he had gone. He had hated leaving Court, partly because he believed that, without anyone to curb him, Leicester would be more powerful than ever.
He loathed Leicester and greatly deplored my devotion to him. Like most upright and somewhat self-righteous men, Sussex imagined that others were worse than they were. He saw himself as an honest man, a man who would put his life at risk rather than act against his principles. While I respected such attitudes I often distrusted the men who held them. They grew into fanatics, and I had found that those who set themselves up as of impregnable virtue could often be much more cruel than those who suffered from ordinary human frailties. I knew Robert was ambitious, greedy, selfseeking, devious, ruthless and perhaps even capable of murder. But he was still the most exciting and attractive man I had ever known.
Understanding them all, seeing clearly into their minds and not being of a very upright nature myself—except perhaps where my country was concerned—I could forgive men their foibles and love them none the less for them. I was as good a statesman as any of my men, but in addition I possessed a certain insight which was entirely feminine. It was not merely intuition—but that might have been part of it; it was an immense interest in people, which most men lack. They are too absorbed in themselves to bother much with other people's motives. Women want to know what is going on; they are insatiably curious. This gives my sex that extra knowledge of how people's minds work; it helps us to assess how they will act in certain circumstances. I had this quality in excess; I was entirely female; but at the same time I could grapple with state matters as skillfully as my most able councilors. Since I could bring to problems my feminine flexibility and did not mind a little not-always-honest juggling, I was more fitted to rule my country than any of my men would have been, clever though they were. I owed this to the fact that I picked my advisers with skill; I understood them; I accepted their foibles; and I gave them my loyalty, which is the best way of getting that most essential gift in exchange.
Another fact was that I loved them all. They were my men and my children. They knew this and because in every man there is a desire for a mother figure…I was that too. I scolded them as though they were my wayward children, and they loved me for it. Even to those who looked upon me as a mistress—by which I mean a lover—I was a mother too. I looked to their health and when any one of them was ill that gave me great concern, which was what I felt for dear old Sussex at this time. He was fifty-seven years old—not so much older than I, seven years to be precise. A sobering thought.
Then came the day when I was asked to visit him at his home in Bermondsey. I went at once and was deeply grieved to see how ill he was.
I took his hand and he tried to kiss mine but I would not let him exert himself. “No, my dear friend, I forbid it. You must rest. Save your breath. That is your Queen's command.”
“My lady,” he said, “my joy in life has been to serve you.”
“I know it well,” I told him. “I want you to do something more for me. I want you to get up from this sick-bed and come back to Court.”
He shook his head. “I shall never rise from this bed, Your Majesty.”
“You are too young to die.”
“I have grown old in your service.”
“Come, Thomas Radcliffe, we both grow old. But I am not so old yet that I can dispense with your services.”
“I have long felt death close to me, Your Majesty,” he said, “and my greatest regret in leaving this life is that I may no longer serve you. I shall leave the Court to others…”