Elizabeth I (35 page)

“Spirited people sometimes overstep the bounds,” he said. “There is no life when a man or woman always has to keep within a circle. Southampton has many poets as friends as well as ruffians, and Mistress Southwell knows all the districts of pleasure that a woman can explore.” He paused. “Now my cautious friend Francis Bacon can offset the others. He has managed to worm his way into a position as Queen’s Counsel Extraordinary.
All
my friends are not in disgrace.”

“Perhaps Bacon can do us some good in that position. Help the Queen incline her ear to us, so to speak.” The Dr. Lopez episode, supposed to win her gratitude for her deliverance, had done nothing of the sort. The sordid affair, source of shame and horror, had been deemed unmentionable, as if to deny that it had ever happened. I heard that the Queen still wore the ring, though.

“He and his brother still work primarily for
me
,” said Robert. “The royal appointment is case by case only.”

“All will be well.” I needed to tell myself that.

I left his chambers. It was early afternoon, and the house was empty. There was nothing to do. Oh, to be barred from court was so boring. I could only hear and see things secondhand, utterly at the mercy of the memory and descriptive power of others.

As long as I could have only secondhand excitement, I might as well go to the theater, I told myself. The new season was under way and there would surely be something amusing on. Even though he was dead, Marlowe was still being performed, but I hardly wanted to see
The Jew of Malta
. That friend of the enigmatic Southampton, Shakespeare, had some comedies and a bloody Roman play, but I was not in the mood for either. Kyd’s
The Spanish Tragedy
would suit me best today. I grabbed my lacy face mask and summoned my coach.

30

ELIZABETH

Christmas 1594

I
had given myself a Christmas gift. Two of them: Francis Drake and Walter Raleigh. I had beckoned them back to court; their exile had lasted long enough. I decided to forgive them for their human lapses—Drake for his misguided preemptive strike against Spain that had fizzled so spectacularly and expensively five years ago, Raleigh for his transgression with Bess Throckmorton two years ago. Drake had busied himself with a new wife and civic duties in his Devonshire home. Raleigh surely had had enough of being cooped up in Sherborne Castle in Dorset with Bess, where he had decamped after his release from the Tower. Both men had parliamentary grants for new ventures. They were ready to go again, and I was ready to send them.

In the meantime I had the pleasure of their company for the Christmas revels at Hampton Court, and of contrasting the smooth-tongued Raleigh with the plainspoken Drake, one a born courtier and the other best farthest from court. And all the while, the young Earl of Essex looking on, his envy piqued. Oh, it was all delicious. And I had earned the amusement, having been bedeviled by all three of them at various times.

The festivities were to follow their usual schedule: The court would move to Hampton just before Christmas, and once there, the twelve days would be a round of banquets, music, masques, and plays. The Lord Chamberlain’s Men would put on the best of the season’s new plays as well as one or two old favorites like
Doctor Faustus
. The master of misrule would preside in the closing feast; and in between there would be New Year’s Day and the gift exchanges. My treasury had already weighed out the silver to be dispensed. It was a familiar routine, but there were always surprises—new people introduced, new styles unveiled, and, out of sight, new liaisons formed.

Hampton showed well at Christmas, lending itself to greenery and decorations; the Great Hall seemed to store up past merriment, releasing it anew each season. For days, lighted barges with liveried boatmen delivered their masters and mistresses to the water steps, where they mounted and approached the first gate, laughing, their hooded cloaks streaming out behind them.

Of course there were those few who preferred not to come, choosing to spend the holidays in their own houses; there were far more who wanted to come to court but were not invited. There were, after all, only so many rooms.

They began arriving: first the lowest-ranking courtiers, invited for the first time, with their curious and eager wives peeping into the halls and stairways; then the more important personages; and finally the highest, each trying to arrive later than his rival. Some announced their eminence by sending a token reminder of themselves from their estates, where they were spending the holidays. The royal larder overflowed with game pies, blackberry comfits, honey from prized hives, and even smoked swans from the country. The musicians got to practice on the first, less demanding audiences and polish their performances for the critical listeners who would follow. Players rehearsed in the Great Hall; the Lord Chamberlain’s Men promised excellent drama chosen from the autumn’s new plays. There had been an explosion of new material after the theaters reopened in London, after the plague, as if the playwrights had done nothing in the meantime but sit in their rooms writing while the theaters were shut.

There would, of course, be religious services, and Whitgift stood ready to preside, but business would continue right up until Christmas Eve. The French and Scots ambassadors dogged my every step, pretending to urge certain policies on me, in reality to spy for their masters. It was, as far as I was concerned, part of the festivities, and I would lead them into a merry maze. Hampton Court had a maze; that one was outside, and my diplomatic one would be inside.

On Christmas Eve, as Archbishop Whitgift intoned the closing prayers of the service, rows of candles were lit all down the great passageway leading from the chapel royal, and cornets announced the glad arrival of Christmas.

We held the Christmas banquet in the Great Watching Chamber, saving the Great Hall for the performance to come; its stage was being hastily erected while we ate; we could hear the banging and scraping over the sweet tunes of the lutes and harps. I had invited my forgiven adventurers to sit on either side of me; on their sides sat young Cecil and young Essex, making a parenthesis of rivalry around Raleigh and Drake. Farther down the table were Admiral Howard, Catherine, Whitgift, Charles Blount, old Cecil, Helena van Snakenborg. My godson John Harington and various Carey brothers filled out the length of the head table. The other tables were a swarm of courtiers of various degrees.

I shall not describe the food or the proceedings, for they follow an established pattern. What is memorable is what departs from the pattern. And now, like the Green Knight appearing at King Arthur’s winter festivities, a savage strode into the room, nearly naked except for a loincloth, an elaborate many-stranded necklace, and a dazzling feathered headdress. Much like an animal taken directly from a forest, he looked around at us, his eyes darting everywhere, as if searching for an escape. In his wake a white man followed and took his place beside him.

Now Raleigh rose. “I bid you welcome, Captain Whiddon, and your guest from South America.” The white man nodded, then bowed to me. “Your Majesty, and all the good parliamentarians who voted funds for my exploratory expedition, I present the first fruit of my preparation,” continued Raleigh. “Jacob Whiddon, a captain who never hesitates to invade Spanish waters, reconnoitered an area on the South American coast near Trinidad for my proposed voyage there. He reports favorable conditions and brought this young man back to learn English so that he might act as our translator and guide.”

“Speak, Ewaioma,” prodded Whiddon.

The bronze man opened his mouth and said, in a surprisingly soft voice, “Ezrabeta Cassipuna Acarewana!”

“That means ‘Elizabeth the Great Princess,’ ” said Raleigh. “I have explained to him that you are a great
cassique
, a chief of the north, who has many other
cassiques
at her command.” He extended his hand to Ewaioma, who approached the table. “This great
cassique
, my mistress, has freed the whole northern coast of Europe from Spain and is a constant enemy of its tyranny. They fear her, and she will protect you from the depredations of that evil empire. You may trust your land and your people to her.”

“I—give tanks,” he said.

Drake now rose. “Perhaps you should explain to Ewaioma that
I
am the reason you are so feared by Spain,” he said boldly to me. “It is I who struck terror into them, in Europe, in Panama, in Peru—in fact, the whole world over. I made it my mission from my early days to wreak vengeance on them. I pray my last deed will be to smite the Spaniard! Let me perish while thrusting a sword into one!”

“Amen!” yelled Essex, jumping up. The savage flinched at all the commotion. “Slay them here, there, everywhere!”

“Down!” I ordered my unruly hunting dogs. “Behave yourselves in a seemly fashion.” That was the problem with warriors and adventurers; like mastiffs, they did not belong indoors. “Now, Ewaioma, I bid you welcome to Hampton Court and our festivities. You do not have a winter where you live, but here we pause at the darkest time to gather and celebrate. Eat, drink, dance, as you will.”

Whiddon led the bewildered man out, and Raleigh leaned over confidentially. “I have more to show you, for your eyes only, if you would be so gracious as to come to my suite of chambers tomorrow. There is private information about gold that I wish to impart, as well as maps for you to inspect. Will you consent?”

My curiosity alone would lead me there, even if it were not my firm policy to test everything I sponsored.

St. Stephen’s Day, December 26. As I made my way across the outer courtyard to Raleigh’s chamber, I found it aswarm with people carrying curtains, costumes, and furniture into the Great Hall for tonight’s performance. I could hear, dimly, the sound of furious hammering from inside the hall. I keenly anticipated the evening’s entertainment, but now I was bound for a private performance. For I had no doubt he would put on a performance, my Walter.