Philippa Gregory's Tudor Court 6-Book Boxed Set (332 page)

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Cecil had three meetings with Elizabeth before she could be brought even to listen to him without interrupting and raging at him. The first two were with Dudley and a couple of other men in attendance, and Cecil had to bow his head while she tore into him, complained of his inattention to her business, of his neglect of his country, of his disregard for their pride, their rights, their finances. After the first meeting he did not try to defend himself, but wondered whose voice it was that came so shrill, from the queen’s reproachful mouth.

He knew it was Robert Dudley’s. Robert Dudley, of course; who stood back by the window, leaning against the shutter, looking down into the midsummer garden, and sniffed a pomander held to his nose with one slim white hand. Now and again he would shift his position, or breathe in lightly, or clear his throat, and at once the queen would break off and turn, as if to give way to him. If Robert Dudley had so much as a passing thought she assumed they would all be eager to hear it.

She adores him,
Cecil thought, hardly hearing the detail of the queen’s complaints.
She is in her first flush of love, and he is the first love of her womanhood. She thinks the sun shines from his eyes, his opinions are the only wisdom she can hear, his voice the only speech, his smile her only pleasure. It is pointless to complain, it is pointless to be angry with her folly. She is a young woman in the madness of first love and it is hopeless expecting her to exercise any kind of sensible judgment.

The third meeting, Cecil found the queen alone but for Sir Nicholas Bacon and two ladies in attendance. “Sir Robert has been delayed,” she said.

“Let us start without him,” Sir Nicholas smoothly suggested. “Lord Secretary, you were going through the terms of the treaty, and the detail of the French withdrawal.”

Cecil nodded and put his papers before them. For the first time the queen did not spring to her feet and stride away from the table, railing against him. She kept her seat and she looked carefully at the proposal for the French withdrawal.

Emboldened, Cecil ran through the terms of the treaty again, and then sat back in his chair.

“And do you really think it is a binding peace?” Elizabeth asked.

For a moment, it was as it had always been between the two of them. The young woman looked to the older man for his advice, trusting that he would serve her with absolute fidelity. The older man looked down into the little face of his pupil and saw her wisdom and her ability. Cecil had a sense of the world returning to its proper axis, of the stars recoiling to their courses, of the faint harmony of the spheres, of homecoming.

“I do,” he said. “They were much alarmed by the Protestant uprising in Paris, they will not want to risk any other ventures for now. They fear the rise of the Huguenots, they fear your influence. They believe that you will defend Protestants wherever they are, as you did in Scotland, and they think that Protestants will look to you. They will want to keep the peace, I am sure. And Mary, Queen of Scots, will not take up her inheritance in Scotland while she can live in Paris. She will put in another regent and command him to deal fairly with the Scots lords, according to the terms of the peace contract. They will keep Scotland in name only.”

“And Calais?” the queen demanded jealously.

“Calais is, and always has been, a separate issue,” he said steadily. “As we have all always known. But I think we should demand it back under the terms of the treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis, when their lease falls due, as agreed. And they are more likely to honor the agreement now than before. They have learned to fear us. We have surprised them, Your Grace; they did not think we had the resolve. They will not laugh at us again. They certainly will not lightly make war on you again.”

She nodded, and pushed the treaty toward him. “Good,” she said shortly. “You swear it was the very best you could do?”

“I was pleased to get so much.”

She nodded. “Thank God we are free from the threat of them. I wouldn’t like to go through this past year again.”

“Nor I,” said Sir Nicholas fervently. “It was a great gamble when you took us into war, Your Majesty. A brilliant decision.”

Elizabeth had the grace to smile at Cecil. “I was very brave and very determined,” she said, twinkling at him. “Don’t you think so, Spirit?”

“I am sure that if England ever again faces such an enemy, you will remember this time,” he said. “You will have learned what to do for the next time. You have learned how to play the king.”

“Mary never did so much,” she reminded him. “She never had to face an invasion from a foreign power.”

“No, indeed,” he agreed. “Her mettle was not tested as yours has been. And you were tested and not found wanting. You were your father’s daughter and you have earned the peace.”

She rose from the table. “I can’t think what is keeping Sir Robert,” she complained. “He promised me he would be here an hour ago. He has a new delivery of Barbary horses and he had to be there to see them arrive in case they had to be sent back. But he promised me he would come at once.”

“Shall we walk down to the stables to meet him?” Cecil suggested.

“Yes,” she said eagerly. She took his arm and they walked side by side, as they had walked so often before.

“Let’s take a turn in the garden first,” he suggested. “The roses have been wonderful this year. D’you know, Scotland is a full month behind in the garden?”

“Is it very cold and barbaric?” she asked. “I wish I could see it.”

“You could go on progress to Newcastle one summer,” he said. “They would be glad to see you there, and it would be good policy to visit the border castles.”

“I should like to,” Elizabeth said. “You must have ridden your horses into the ground. You went backward and forward from Edinburgh to Newcastle, didn’t you?”

Cecil nodded. “I wanted to confer with your uncle, and I needed to keep an eye on Monsieur Randan. It was a hard ride and a poorly kept road, especially in Scotland.”

She nodded.

“And what of you?” Cecil lowered his voice. The ladies walking behind them were out of earshot; Sir Nicholas was walking with Catherine Knollys. “How have things been with you these last two months, Princess?”

For a moment he thought she would turn the question aside with a laugh, but she checked herself. “I was very afraid,” she said honestly. “Kat thought that my health would break under the strain.”

“That was my fear,” he said. “You bore up wonderfully.”

“I couldn’t have done it without Sir Robert,” she said. “He can always calm me, Spirit. He has such a wonderful voice, and his hands . . . I think he has magic in his hands . . . it’s why he can do anything with his horses. As soon as he lays his hand on my forehead I feel at peace.”

“You are in love with him,” he said gently.

Elizabeth looked quickly up at him to see if he was accusing her; but he met her eyes with steady sympathy.

“Yes,” she said frankly, and it was a relief to her to be able to tell her counselor the truth at last. “Yes, I am.”

“And he with you?”

She smiled. “Yes, oh yes. Think of the misery if he was not!”

He paused, then he asked her: “Princess, what will come of this? He is a married man.”

“His wife is ill, and could die,” Elizabeth said. “And anyway, they have been unhappy for years. He says that his marriage is no more. She will release him. I can grant them a divorce. Then he will marry me.”

How to deal with this? She will not want wise counsel; she will want to be confirmed in this folly. But if I do not speak, who will?
Cecil drew a breath. “My queen, Amy Dudley, Amy Robsart that was, is a young woman; there is no reason to think that she will die. You cannot delay your marriage waiting for a young woman to die. And you cannot possibly grant him a divorce; there are no grounds for a divorce. You danced at his wedding feast yourself, when they married for love with the blessing of their parents. And you cannot marry a commoner, a man whose family has been under the shadow of treason, a man with a living wife.”

Elizabeth turned to him. “Cecil, I can, and I will. I have promised him.”

Good God! What does she mean by that? What does she mean by that? What does she mean by that?

None of Cecil’s horror showed in his face. “A private promise? Love talk? Whispered between the two of you?”

“A binding promise of marriage. A
de futuro
betrothal before witnesses.”

“Who witnessed?” he gasped out. “What witnesses?”
Perhaps they could be bribed into silence, or murdered. Perhaps they could be discredited, or exiled.

“Catherine and Francis Knollys.”

He was shocked into silence.

They walked, not saying a word. He found that his legs were weak beneath him at the horror of what she had told him. He had failed to guard her. She was entrapped, and the country with her.

“You are angry with me,” she said in a small voice. “You think I have made a terrible mistake when you were not here to prevent me.”

“I am horrified.”

“Spirit, I could not help myself. You were not here, I thought that at any moment the French would invade. I thought I had lost my throne already. I had nothing left to lose. I wanted to know that at least I had him.”

“Princess, this is a disaster worse than a French invasion,” he said. “If the French had invaded, every man in the country would have laid down his life for you. But if they knew you were betrothed to marry Sir Robert, they would put Katherine Grey on the throne in your place.”

They were approaching the stables. “Walk on,” she said quickly. “I dare not meet him now. He will see I have told you.”

“He told you not to confide in me?”

“He didn’t have to! We all know you would advise me against him.”

Cecil led her by another path into the garden. He could feel her trembling.

“The people of England would never turn against me just for falling in love.”

“Princess, they will not accept him as your husband and your consort. I am sorry; but the best you can do now is to choose your successor. You will have to abdicate; you will have to give up your throne.”

He felt her stagger as her knees gave way.

“Do you want to sit down?”

“No, let’s walk, let’s walk,” Elizabeth said feverishly. “You don’t mean it, Spirit, do you? You’re just trying to frighten me.”

He shook his head. “I tell you nothing but the truth.”

“He is not so hated in the country? There are just a few who wish him ill at court—my uncle, of course, and the Duke of Arundel, those who are jealous of him and envy him his looks, those who want the favor that I show him, those who want his wealth, his position . . .”

“It’s not that,” Cecil said wearily. “Listen to me, Elizabeth, I am telling you the truth. It is not a little jealousy at court, it is an opinion which runs very deep in the country. It’s his family and his position and his past. His father was executed for treason against your sister; his grandfather was executed for treason against your father. He has bad blood. Princess, his family has always been a traitor to yours. Everyone remembers that if the Dudleys rise high they abuse their power. No one would ever trust a Dudley with great position. And everyone knows that he is a married man, and no one has heard anything against his wife. He cannot just cast her aside; it would be an unbearable scandal. Already the courts of Europe laugh at you, and say that you are shamed by your adulterous love for your horse master.”

He saw her flush at the thought of it.

“You should marry a king, Princess. Or an archduke at the very least, someone of good blood whose alliance will help the country. You cannot marry a common man with nothing more to recommend him than his good looks and his handling of his horse. The country will never accept him as your consort. I know it.”

“You hate him too,” she said fiercely. “You are as unkind to him as the rest of them.”

Inveterately,
he acknowledged to himself. But he smiled his gentle smile at her. “It would not matter how I felt about him, if he was the right man for you,” he said gently. “I hope I would have the sense to advise you as to your best course, whatever my preferences. And, as it happens, I do not hate him; I rather like him. But I have long feared your particular favor to him. I have been afraid that it would come to a point. I never dreamed he would take it to this.”

Elizabeth turned her head away; he saw her picking at her nails.

“It went further than I meant it to,” she said, very low. “I was not thinking straight and I went further . . .”

“If you can escape from your promise of betrothal now, your reputation will have been stained, but you will recover, if you give him up and go on to marry someone else. But if you go through with it the people will throw you from your throne rather than bow the knee to him.”

“Mary had Philip even though they hated him!” she burst out.

“He was an anointed king!” Cecil exclaimed. “They might hate him but they could not object to his breeding. And Philip had an army to support him; he was heir to the empire of Spain. What does Dudley have? Half a dozen retainers and the huntsmen! How will they serve him in the first riot that breaks out?”

“I have given my word,” she whispered. “Before God and honorable witnesses.”

“You will have to withdraw it,” he said flatly. “Or this peace will be as nothing, for you will have won peace for England and Queen Katherine Grey.”

“Queen Katherine?” she repeated, aghast. “Never!”

“Princess, there are at least two plots to put her on the throne instead of you. She is a Protestant like her sister Jane, she is well liked, she is of Tudor stock.”

“She knows of this? She is plotting against me?”

He shook his head. “I would have had her arrested already if I thought there was the least question of her loyalty. I only mention her now so that you know there are people who would push you from your throne now—when they hear of this promise they will recruit many others.”

“I will keep it secret,” she said.

“It will have to be more than secret; it will have to be broken and hidden. You will have to withdraw it. You can never marry him and he knows it. You have to tell him that you have come to your senses and now you know it too. He has to release you.”