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“Leicester?” I asked.
Burghley nodded.
“There are always those who will malign Leicester,” I said. “He has aroused so much envy. Who is making mischief now?”
“The author of the pamphlet is a little elusive, but it is said to be written by a Jesuit priest named Robert Parson.”
“I have heard his name. He is one of those who burn to restore the Catholic faith in England, I believe, and is ready to do so by any means however foul… like most of his brethren. England would be a happier place without his kind. Well, where is this pamphlet?”
“If Your Majesty wishes to see it I will fetch it, but I warn you it does not make pleasant reading.”
“By which I infer I am mentioned in it.”
He was silent.
“Bring it to me at once,” I said.
And so it came into my hands, the most wicked and scurrilous document I ever beheld. It was so absurd that I felt it must be worthless. On the other hand there were parts of it which might have had their roots in truth. Jesuit Parson had not been clever enough; if he had been content with recording the more plausible incidents he might have succeeded in his purpose, which was to destroy not only Leicester's reputation but mine as well. But as is often the case with such fanatical fury, he had gone too far.
Venom leaped out from those pages. Heaven knew, Robert's record was not so pure that it needed such ferocious blackening. I was faintly amused in spite of my anger—and yes, alarmed—to see how Parson had betrayed his passionate envy. Not very clever for a man who claimed to have dedicated himself to God.
He referred to Robert as The Bear and as soon as I read the opening sentences I was prepared for what followed.
“You know the Bear's love, which is for his paunch …” It was ridiculous. Robert might indulge somewhat excessively in what is called good living, but he had many greater loves—for power, for glory, for possessions; and he had loved his dead son and Lettice—and I was sure myself.
“He is noble in only two descents and both of them stained with the block…”
That was so, but was it Robert's fault that his grandfather had died to placate the people who had blamed him for the taxes imposed by my grandfather? His father had come to the block through ambition, but was Robert to blame for that? My own mother had died on the block and so had many i
“He was fleshed in conspiracy against the royal blood of King Henry's children in his tender years,” he continued.
It was true that he was at Court when a child, but he had stood for me as long as I had known him and had sold his lands in case I should need money to hold my throne.
I was reluctant to read on because I knew that this man Parson would be no respecter of royalty. I was right. After an account of how Leicester had advanced his own family, he turned to his relationship with me. All the gossip, all the slander had been revived. The children who had been killed at birth or smuggled into secrecy…it was all there. I felt myself growing more and more enraged as I read.
He was a murderer, wrote Parson, not only of his wife, who stood in his way, but of others. He began with the death of Amy Robsart whom, he insisted, Leicester had ordered his servants to dispose of that he might be free to marry the Queen.
Previously he had said that Leicester exerted an evil spell over me which forced me to submit to his lusts. Surely all reasonable people would ask why, since he had murdered Amy in order to marry me, he did not use that sorcery to bring about the marriage.
The death of Lord Sheffield was described in detail. He had been murdered at Leicester's command because he had threatened to divorce his wife naming Leicester as her lover. So an artificial catarrh had stopped his breath. Lord Essex had been killed through a clever Italian recipe after he had learned that Lettice was with child by Leicester. The child was afterward destroyed. Lady Sheffield was being poisoned, and the evidence was that her nails were dropping off and her hair falling out, when her life was saved by her marriage to Sir Edward Stafford. And all knew that there had been an inquiry about that as there had been about the death of Amy Robsart. But Leicester's minions were afraid of him and they saw to it that the truth was not brought out into the open.
What a fool the Jesuit was! These crimes he had laid at Robert's door, while they could not be substantiated had their roots in fact—distorted fact maybe, but there was some reason for plausibility. But he was not content with that. Endowing me with children was absurd, as my movements were followed all the time and it would not have been possible for me to become pregnant without many being aware of it. So that made a nonsense of that particular scandal.
He had to invent absurd crimes and one of the most foolish concerned the death of the Cardinal de Chatillon. It was well known that Catherine de' Medici had wanted him out of the way and that she was a skillful poisoner. Why lay his death at Robert's door? There was no reasoning behind it. Parson's feeble answer was that the Cardinal had threatened to reveal how Leicester had obstructed my marriage with the Duc d'Anjou so the earl's spy poisoners had been sent to dispatch him.
I was horrified and fascinated. Not only was this a libel against Robert but many others as well. Myself for one. If that Jesuit was caught, this was going to cost him dear. John Dee, the astrologer, was implicated, so was Dr Julio, Robert's favorite physician, who, it was said, had brought the art of poisoning with him from Italy. He was named as one of those who had assisted Robert in bringing about the deaths of his victims.
According to Father Parson, Robert was well versed in the black arts, was lustful, greedy, a power-seeking murderer. The devil himself could not have been more evil.
As I read I was inclined to laugh at the absurdities. On the other hand I could see how dangerous this could be in the hands of my enemies. Robert and I were too close for me not to be linked with his villainies.
Old scandals would be revived. People would remember how Amy Robsart died. If I had married Robert, that would have been the end of my reign for the people would have turned against me in the same way that they had turned against Mary Stuart when she married Bothwell, Darnley's murderer. Oh, what a fool she had been! I wondered if she thought as often of me as I did of her. It was inevitable, I supposed, for constantly she was trying to escape from the prisons into which I put her.
Did she ever think how similar our lives had been at that point when I had been so attracted by Robert, and the wife who stood in our way had died? I had seen that as the end of all possibilities for marriage with Robert—only by not marrying him could I completely exonerate myself. For if I refused to marry him when he was free, how could I have co
Now I needed all my wisdom to decide what was to be done about this libelous pamphlet. Ridicule was always a good weapon—perhaps the best if it could be effectively used.
All the same I could not have that pamphlet circulating freely through the country.
I made an Order of Council to forbid the circulation of what had come to be known as Father Parson's Green Coat or Leicester's Commonwealth, and I gave my assurances that to my knowledge the contents of this scurrilous document were false.
Young Philip Sidney—he was now Sir Philip for I had bestowed a knighthood on him—composed a defense of his uncle very beautifully and movingly written in which he said that he was on his father's side of ancient, well-esteemed and well-matched gentry, but his chief honor was to be a Dudley. Dear Philip Sidney! I was always fond of him, partly because of his devotion to his uncle. He was such a good and clever young man, and surely he could not have been so devoted to one who was unworthy. It did me good to see the affection between him and Robert.