Queen of This Realm

One day when I was on my barge not far from Greenwich, Simier came to join me there. We were laughing as we sailed along the river and the musicians were playing sweet music to the accompaniment of a boy singer. Whenever I passed along the river my people came out to wave to me and I never failed to show my pleasure and my gratitude that they had come to greet me. There were plenty of other craft all round for it was a pleasant day.

“The cheers, little Monkey,” I said to Simier, who was standing beside me, “are for me and not for you.”

He smiled and he said that he doubted the people saw him; all else would be blotted out by my dazzling presence.

“They see you,” I said. “There is no doubt of that, but perhaps some of them are not very happy to see you. My people are not enamored of foreign marriages. I remember their feelings when my sister married into Spain.”

“Ah, but your bridegroom will come from France, which is quite different from Spain. The Spaniards are so solemn, are they not? You would not say that of the representatives of France, would you, Your Grace?”

“Not of my dear little Monkey, most certainly.”

Then suddenly in the midst of this banter the shot rang out. It had been discharged from a boat nearby. One of the bargemen fell fainting to the ground not six feet from where I stood.

There was shouting and screaming. The noise was great. Simier had turned very pale and was looking at me in horror.

“Your Majesty is unharmed,” he said. “Thank God.”

“It was meant for me …” I murmured.

“No, Your Majesty, I think not. I believe it was meant for me.”

I tore off my scarf and gave it to one of the bargemen. “Bind up that poor man's wounds at once,” I said, “and have him attended to.”

Several people were round him and it was discovered that he had been shot in both arms.

They said afterward how calm I was. I could be calm in such moments. How different from the virago who had screamed for vengeance when she heard of Robert Dudley's duplicity!

The man who had fired the shot was shouting his i

We returned to Greenwich and there I was prevailed upon to rest.

I knew Simier thought that Robert had made an attempt on his life, but I did not believe that Robert would have placed me in the slightest danger. He was too fond of me. I was sure of that. If he had married her, it was because he had decided that I would never have him and, wanton slut that she was, she had appealed to his senses. I could always pick out that sort of woman. And Robert was weak in that regard; he was, after all, a man. It would have been different if I could have taken him. Robert was not really to blame.

When they brought the man to trial he turned out to be a certain Thomas Appletree who swore with conviction that he had never been part of any plot and insisted that his firearm had gone off accidentally. He said he was in no way to blame for what had happened and if he had harmed his beloved Queen he would have turned the weapon on himself.

I intervened and said he should be pardoned for I believed in his i

“Your Majesty is gracious and merciful,” said Sussex. “There is a doubt and you have given this man the benefit of it.”

“My lord Sussex,” I replied, “I would not believe anything against my subjects which loving parents would not believe of their children.”

This remark was repeated. Thomas Appletree, I knew, would be my devoted subject for the rest of his life, and the people loved me more than ever after the shooting on the barge.

Simier, however, continued to believe that it was a plot arranged by Leicester in revenge for his having told me of the clandestine marriage.

NEWS WAS BROUGHT to me that Robert was very ill at Wanstead.

“Serve him right!” I said. “He deserves to be ill. He is suffering from a surfeit of conscience, and I hope it plagues him for a very long time.”

But that night I could not sleep. I pictured him, pale and haggard, on his sick-bed calling for me, begging my forgiveness, longing for me to speak a few gentle words to him. What if he did not recover? What if he were on his death-bed?

The next morning I decided that I was going to see for myself how ill Robert was. I sent a message to that effect to Wanstead which would warn the she-wolf to make herself scarce if she happened to be with him.

Wanstead was not far out of London and an easy journey. As soon as I reached the house I went straight to his apartments.

He looked very pale and wan lying there. I went to his bedside and seating myself, took his hands in mine.

“Robert!” I cried in dismay. “You are really ill.”

I had half believed that he was shamming and had invented this to win my sympathy. I had put up some very good shows of delicacy myself in the past and it was not surprising that I should suspect others of doing the same.

He opened his eyes and smiled at me faintly. He was murmuring something and to catch it I had to bend over him. “My gracious lady …you came…to see me.”

I was so worried that I spoke very sharply. “Of course I came. You knew I would. In spite of your folly… still I came.”

I touched his forehead. It was not hot. Thank God, I thought, there is no fever.

I said shortly: “I shall stay here until you are better.”

He smiled and shook his head with the melancholy expression of one who knows his end is near.

I was still a little unsure and I was really hoping that it was a pretense for I knew I could not bear for him to pass out of my life. It would be so empty without him and if he were shamming I was only glad that he had gone to such lengths to bring me back to him. I forgave him. Then I kept reminding myself that men were weak creatures and that the she-wolf was a sorceress.

“Now, Robin,” I said, “you have been overeating, I doubt not, and drinking too much and indulging too freely generally in the so-called pleasures of the flesh. That is changed now. I shall look after you and my orders will be obeyed.”

He smiled fondly and happily, I thought.

“Why, you already look better,” I said.

“Of course I do. That is your healing presence.”

I stayed with him for three days at Wanstead while I tended him myself and at the end of that time he was well again—apart from touches of the gout.

I spoke to him very seriously: “Robert,” I said, “you are a fool.”

He looked sheepish. “I know it well,” he answered ruefully.

“You do not take care of yourself. You eat like a pig. Your complexion is growing very ruddy and you are too fat. I remember you so well when you came to Hatfield…”

“Ah, I remember too. I had sold my lands to provide the money you might need.”

“And I made you my Master of Horse. You were not heavy then, Robert.”

“We all must grow old… save you.”

“I also, Robert—although I fight against it. It is a losing battle and time will win in the end. But I shall put up a good fight in the meantime and so must you, Robin…so must you.”

“What should I do without you?” he asked.

“Very well,” I answered tartly, “with your new wife. Very well indeed until the she-wolf shows her fangs.”

He looked at me sadly.

“How could you, Robin? How could you so deceive me?”

“You gave me no hope. You showed your preference so clearly for the Frenchman.”

“Robert… you fool! You know why, don't you?”

“I wanted a son. I could not go on… hoping. I had realized after all these years that my hopes would never come to anything.”

“We belong together,” I said, “you and I. Nothing can alter that … nothing … no one can come between us. Whatever happens, you know that.”

He nodded.

“We have been through much together,” I went on. “We are part of England. Your life and mine are interwoven. So will it ever be…”