by David Field
Cecil seemed to be talking to himself until those with Flemish sympathies and most notably those who represented the city merchant guilds, reminded their pro-Spanish opponents that an alliance with the most powerful nation at any given moment in history could prove unwise if those fortunes were reversed. Then Cecil was obliged to reverse his arguments and remind those assembled that the only other major power in Europe was France, which had forever been allied with Scotland in ‘the Auld Alliance’, whose common enemy was England.
‘Does anyone around this table seriously argue that France would agree to be allied with us under the present conditions?’ Cecil challenged, but there were no responses.
‘This means, does it not, that it must therefore be Spain?’ argued Earl Marshall of England Thomas Howard, Fourth Duke of Norfolk, a man as committed to ‘the old order of nobility’ as his grandfather had been. He was one of those whom Cecil had counselled Elizabeth to keep close by her side in order to prevent him plotting in dark corners, as had his grandfather of the same name before him. Thomas Howard had been raised as a Protestant, largely for reasons of advancement, but his family tree was heavy with the fruits of Catholicism and his loyalties were suspect.
‘It by no means requires that we ally with Spain,’ Cecil replied, bracing for the obvious response, which came back across the table at him without mercy.
‘You have just ceased reminding us why it would be unwise to ally with France and yet now you insist that it cannot be with Spain either?’ Thomas Howard demanded. ‘Is there any nation on God’s earth that you believe fit to receive the blessing of your approval?’
There were a few suppressed titters and Elizabeth was so angered to see her loyal friend being baited like a chained bear by this upstart young stripling that she could not refrain from interrupting. ‘When you have the years of experience with which my loyal Secretary of State is blessed, my Lord of Norfolk, then you may perhaps acquire the ability to appreciate subtlety of argument. The Secretary merely brings to our attention the dangers implicit in selecting either France or Spain as an ally.’
‘But each of their Ambassadors is eagerly awaiting a decision,’ Howard countered.
‘Then let them wait,’ Elizabeth glared back at him. ‘When the day arrives that my nation is at the dictate of foreign ambassadors, then you may criticise the Secretary for his sage advice. You fail to appreciate that closely tied with the issue of an alliance is the matter of who shall share the royal bed. Unless you are about to propose that England’s foreign policy be decided on the basis of which of the various contenders for my virginity I most lust after, then be silent and listen to the advice of your elders — and wisers.’
‘Thank you, Your Majesty,’ Cecil replied as Howard went bright red in the face. ‘In the circumstances,’ Cecil continued, ‘given that I have fully explained the options, it might be best if we now adjourned for dinner, returning in two hours time to bring more considered counsel to bear on the matter.’
Once inside the Withdrawing Chamber Elizabeth grabbed Cecil’s arm with a pained expression. ‘Did I overstretch my authority in there, dearest Cecil?’
‘On the contrary, you put that young coxcomb in his rightful place,’ Cecil said. ‘And given that you are Queen, what limit do you think exists to your authority?’
‘But we are no closer to choosing an alliance partner,’ Elizabeth reminded him.
‘Nor shall we be if we sit there for a week. That was my whole object, since our decision, if we ever reach one, will bear heavily on your choice of a husband, as you yourself reminded us.’
Elizabeth’s face soured as she walked to the table on which dinner was in the process of being laid and poured herself a goblet of wine. ‘Let us not forget that there is more to this than either my hand in marriage or an alliance. There is the matter of a royal heir and whichever nation its sire shall come from will have a claim to the English throne. Should it be Spain, then Philip achieves the ambition with which he married my sister and England becomes merely another gem in the Habsburg crown, and what then of our Protestant friends in the Low Countries? If France, then my heir will be related in some manner to the Catholic Mary when she becomes Queen of that nation and we may expect her Scottish troops across our borders, along with those Frenchmen who currently lurk in Edinburgh, no doubt waiting to strike. Little wonder that I hesitate.’
‘We can delay any decision in Council for some time yet,’ Cecil told her as he also helped himself to wine. ‘This will allow us more freedom of choice and will also no doubt lead to other offers for your hand.’
‘From where, exactly?’ Robert Dudley said, as he rose from his seat and came to the table, reaching out for Elizabeth’s hand. ‘This English rose is far too delicate a plant to be exposed to the rough wind of either France or Spain. And why do we need an alliance with any other nation, say you, if it will mean that our dear Elizabeth is forced into a marriage she would no doubt detest?’
‘You consider that England is strong enough to survive without any alliance?’ Cecil asked with raised eyebrows.
Robert nodded. ‘I say that it could be. While Philip of Spain was escaping from his marriage bed with Mary, he spent many days in our new dockyard at Portsmouth and he took me with him. He is well aware of the current weakness of our navy, while he continues to add to his. Our only possible threat comes from across the Channel, whether it come from France or Spain, and it would be my counsel that we increase our navy to such a degree that it rivals that of Philip. Then we may tell him where he may put his proposal of marriage.’
‘And the cost of such a venture?’ Elizabeth queried.
‘A new shipping tax, which would happily be paid by those of our merchants who rely on our strong presence in the Channel,’ Robert replied. ‘Once we have a navy worthy of the name, we may also strike west, to those lands from which Spain currently draws its wealth in gold, spices and sugar. We may also send men and ships in search of even greater wealth elsewhere.’
Cecil snorted. ‘You know of a man who could bring all this about?’
‘I know of at least two,’ Robert defied him. ‘Whilst in Portsmouth I made the acquaintance of a Devon man named John Hawkins, who was highly regarded by Philip for his services in transporting ambassadors from the port of Cadiz. His family are ship owners and builders down the road in Plymouth and he is anxious to expand his fleet so as to open more trade with the Indies. He is skilled in the science of navigation and ambitious for personal fortune. If we encourage the expansion of his fleet, perhaps with a little money from the privy purse, then such vessels as he builds would do service as armed merchantmen should we be threatened with invasion. And of course we can replenish the money that comes from the Exchequer by way of monopoly grants for his trading.’
‘And the second man that you mentioned?’ Cecil asked.
‘He exists here at Court,’ Robert replied with a smug smile. ‘He is Her Majesty’s astrologer, Dr Dee.’
‘An astrologer who builds ships?’ Cecil said sarcastically.
‘An astrologer who is also a mathematician and much taken with the science of navigation by the stars and the use of mathematical devices to chart the progress of ships across the oceans. His science and Hawkins’s ships, could open up new trade routes that would put the Spaniards to shame, thereby swelling the Treasury in time of peace and converting newly built vessels into warships should we be challenged by either Spain or France.’
Cecil’s eyes had been glowing attentively and now he turned to Elizabeth. ‘There would seem to be some merit in what Robert suggests, Your Majesty. Perhaps he should be commissioned to journey to Plymouth and seek out this man Hawkins?’
‘No!’ Elizabeth protested, to everyone’s visible surprise. ‘I need Robert here by my side at all times. Better that Master Hawkins be summoned to London. And now perhaps we should eat.’
Cecil and Elizabeth took a seat each and began carving into the roasts with their dining knives. Robert continued to stand by the
table, watching them and swilling wine contemplatively around in his goblet.
Elizabeth looked up anxiously. ‘You do not join us, Robert?’
‘In truth I have no appetite, after all this talk of your marriage to a foreign prince.’
‘Well, you can strike one from the list,’ Elizabeth announced as she turned to Cecil. ‘Have the Spanish Ambassador advised that I have declined Philip’s odious offer of marriage, although I have no doubt that you will frame it in more diplomatic language. Now then, Robert, will you sit by me at this board and eat something?’
After Cecil had excused himself, Robert turned once more to Elizabeth.
‘It is tedious sitting here, day after day, while you accompany Cecil to meetings of your Council, from which I am banned for reasons that I still fail to understand,’ he muttered.
‘Your constant presence here is of great comfort to me, Robert, as you well know,’ Elizabeth replied. ‘It gives me relief from the tedium of Councillors and their self-serving prattle. By the same measure, were you to attend me in Council you would become, to me, just another dreary aspect of my duties to my people and there would be no relief when I come back in here. Many a day have I sat listening to my Councillors arguing among themselves and comforted myself that before long I may return to your loving company.’
‘Only to be dismissed once it is time to retire for the night and I must risk life and limb in the darkened streets, on horseback, with only one sturdy manservant to deter footpads.’
‘Footpads, even here in the centre of London?’
‘Particularly here in the centre of London,’ Robert told her. ‘They grow more numerous by the day, as the city grows richer and the pickings therefore more tempting.’
‘Would you be easier in your mind were you to have chambers here at Whitehall?’
‘Only if they were also yours,’ Robert whispered as he reached out and stroked her cheek.
Elizabeth pushed his hand away gently and made a chiding noise with her throat before replying. ‘I shall choose to ignore that, since encompassing a violation of your Queen would no doubt constitute treason.’
‘Only if it were not welcomed,’ Robert reminded her as he reached across to touch her breast. Elizabeth pushed him away and Robert’s face darkened. ‘I shall require to be absent from here for some nights in the near future anyway,’ he continued, ‘since my wife is due to visit me at my town house.’
‘You must not lie with her!’ Elizabeth blurted out instinctively, then reddened deeply from the neck upwards.
‘She is my wife!’ Robert protested. ‘Do you presume, as Queen, to deny a man the pleasure of lying with his own wife?’
‘They say she is sick,’ Elizabeth replied with the first excuse she could muster, ‘and surely it does not ease any sickness to engage in carnal activity?’
‘That rather depends upon the nature of the sickness, does it not?’ Robert replied archly. ‘But should it be your royal command that I refrain from lying with my lawfully wedded spouse, then of course I must obey. Now, if you would excuse me from the royal presence, I must resume my nightly evasion of footpads.’
He rose from the table, bowed to a sarcastically low level and strode out through the door that led to the Audience Chamber.
Later, as Elizabeth and Blanche sat opposite each other before the fire, each engaged upon their needlepoint, Elizabeth had a question. ‘Blanche, are there any vacant chambers on this floor?’
‘Indeed there are, my Lady. Two chambers from your bedchamber is another that was once used by Kat Ashley and her husband on days when they were engaged here at Whitehall. Since Kat is now required here barely once a week, she and Sir John have removed themselves back to Hatfield and when here they make use of one of the suites left available for visiting dignitaries on the floor below. Why do you ask?’
‘I wish Robert Dudley to be accommodated here, rather than his having to risk his life in the darkened streets when he leaves us late each evening. Who is the person in my service who can make that empty chamber a bedchamber for Robert?’
‘Your Chamberlain, Lord Howard.’
‘My great uncle? Excellent!’
‘You wish me so to instruct him, my lady?’
‘Perhaps, but first remind me. This chamber lies two away from mine, you say?’
‘Yes, my Lady.’
‘And between these two chambers?’
‘A spare chamber that we are holding in readiness for when there should be any royal children.’
‘And these two chambers — mine and the one that might be designated for Robert — are kept locked from either side of this middle chamber?’
‘Yes, my Lady.’
‘The keys thereto being held by my Chamberlain?’
‘Yes, my Lady.’
‘You understand my drift, Blanche? There must be no suggestion that Robert and I had access to each other through this middle chamber.’
‘Indeed not, my Lady. Do you wish me to instruct the Chamberlain to make the necessary arrangements?’
‘No, Blanche. Have him attend me before breakfast on the morrow, ahead of the arrival of Robert Dudley for another day of cooling his heels in here.’
Within days, the lascivious rumours were raging like wildfire through the Palace of Whitehall regarding the new accommodation for Robert Dudley. From there the tittle-tattle spread throughout the wider Court and into the city and hardly a person could be found in London who was not salivating at the mental picture of the beautiful Queen going to it with the handsome Courtier with the shapely calves. Council knew of it by the end of the first day and Cecil was steeling himself to raise the matter with Elizabeth when the admission of the Spanish Ambassador into his chambers was announced.
‘Are the rumours true, William?’ de Feria demanded.
‘What rumours would they be, my Lord Ambassador?’ Cecil replied with a serene countenance that masked a darker apprehension.
‘That your Queen has finally chosen to give her body to her Master of Horse — do not play the pretence game with me, Master Secretary.’
‘I am of course familiar with the same rumour that has come to your ears,’ Cecil replied with a hint of annoyance, ‘but since I am not retained to advise Her Majesty on where her body should lie — simply what her policies should be — I can neither confirm nor deny that rumour.’
‘She dishonours my master Philip of Spain!’ de Feria all but shrieked.
‘How so?’ was Cecil’s reply.
‘He has offered her his hand in marriage and she disports herself with a horse groom!’
‘You must forgive me if, due to pressure of business of late in the Privy Council, I completely neglected to advise you that Her Majesty thanks your master for his courtesy, but graciously declines his offer of marriage.’
‘She prefers to fuck with a stable groom?’ de Feria demanded, red of countenance.
‘Again, I am not privy to that information, my Lord Ambassador. I am instructed only to advise you that she will not be fucking with Philip of Spain.’
‘My master shall hear of this!’ de Feria thundered.
Cecil smiled back insultingly. ‘Indeed, is that not the function of an ambassador?’ he asked. Then he chuckled briefly as de Feria stormed out, swearing copiously in his native tongue, before the reality sank in. It would soon be the talk of Europe and Cecil was praying to God that it was not true.
V
Cecil was bustling down the side corridor from his office chambers in Whitehall when Thomas Howard stepped out into his path with a smirk.
‘On your way to do Her Majesty’s bidding, my lord? Or in a hurry for an early dinner?’
‘Step aside, Norfolk,’ Cecil instructed him, ‘since I am indeed engaged in the Queen’s business and she will not be best pleased if I am delayed in conducting it.’
‘Only a few weeks ago the entire Council would be summoned in order to advise Her Majesty,’ Howard sneered by way of reply, ‘but it seems that she likes not our coun
sel of late. Or is it more the case that she is over-tired through lack of sleep?’
‘Your meaning?’ Cecil demanded curtly.
Howard allowed the leer to remain on his lips. ‘Well, while she might enjoy a good night’s sleep in her own chamber, I am advised that she gets little of it in the chamber where she lies each night.’
‘One should not listen to rumour,’ Cecil told him defiantly.
‘Indeed, I do not,’ Howard replied reassuringly, ‘but you forget that her Chamberlain is a Howard.’
‘Good day to you, my Lord of Norfolk,’ Cecil glowered as he dodged around him and strode off muttering under his breath. He had received enough bad news for one morning. King Henry of France had been killed in a tourney and the sixteen-year-old Mary of Scotland was now Queen Consort of France to his successor Francis II, a somewhat weakly fifteen-year-old who was entirely dominated by his wife’s staunchly Catholic uncles from the House of Guise, Duke Francis of Guise and Charles, Cardinal of Lorraine. Their sister Mary of Guise, Mary’s mother, was championing the rising Catholic cause back in Scotland, where she was acting as Regent until her daughter by James V came of age. It was the Guise influence that had led to so many French soldiers assembling in Edinburgh and its immediate suburbs and by their very presence seeking to intimidate the Protestant faction into silence.
As if this were not bad enough news, the Protestant resistance movement had lost control of Edinburgh to Mary of Guise and were now seeking England’s support for a resurgence campaign. Morally and tactically England was bound to respond favourably and it was a perfect opportunity to smash the ‘Auld Alliance’ once and for all, leaving a friendly, grateful and Protestant neighbour north of England’s border at Berwick. But the English Treasury was all but bankrupt and had none left of the old warriors who had led previous Tudor armies in their forays against both the French and the Spanish.
