Queen of This Realm

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 ca

“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 ca

“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.