Just a Girl

by Jane Caro

  ‘You will not have to be patient much longer.’ My heart began to pound. Did this mean my sister was to die in childbirth as she herself had foretold? ‘What does “much longer” mean, Dr Dee? Are we talking human or celestial time frames?’

  ‘Your patience will be required for days, weeks, for months – aye, for years.’ My shoulders fell, and my head felt too heavy for my neck. So my sister was not to die in childbirth, or if she were to, her child would live, but perhaps not survive for long. I seemed no better informed than when I first arrived. Why could I not get a straightforward answer? ‘Enough of this!’ I barked, wishing suddenly that I had visited any blunt-spoken gypsy rather than this spinner of mysteries. ‘Will I be queen or no?’

  ‘The portents are favourable, Your Grace.’

  ‘And will I have a niece or nephew, or no?’

  ‘The portents are unfavourable, Your Grace.’

  ‘And will I be queen while still a young woman?’

  ‘And an old one, it would seem, Your Grace.’

  ‘No more riddles, Dr Dee. Will my long wait soon be over, will my time of peril soon be past?’

  ‘The portents are favourable, Your Grace.’

  There were spies everywhere, it seemed. Within days of our visit, Dr Dee was arrested and accused of attempting to murder my poor sister by using black magic. They hauled Blanche away for interrogation, too. Dee and my servants were accused of conspiring to calculate ‘the king’s and queen’s and my Lady Elizabeth’s nativity’. Again, it seemed I was under suspicion, but the investigation was half-hearted at best. Perhaps all at court understood only too well what had motivated our quest and, as was no doubt pointed out to the investigators, we had been careful only to cast my own horoscope and no other. Indeed, the knowledge that we had consulted so famous a man seemed to draw people to us who had hitherto given us wide berth.

  My brother-in-law was a small man and very fair. This was unusual in a Spaniard. There was something of the dandy about him. His beard – grown, no doubt, to disguise his heavy Hapsburg jaw – was a little too neatly trimmed, his clothes were a little too nicely cut and a little too carefully put together. There was about him a whiff of rather too much perfume. When he bowed he was both courtly and extravagant, and he made much of his well-shaped – if rather short – leg. He had the air of a man altogether pleased with himself. His eyes, however, were shrewd and steadily met my own. He was much younger than his wife, much nearer in years to my own age. I wished I had been at their wedding. They would have made an oddly matched pair – like so many other royal matings.

  ‘Lady Elizabeth.’ His accent was light and, I admit it, quite attractive.

  ‘Your Majesty.’ I curtsied low. ‘How does the queen?’

  ‘No change, I am afraid, no change.’ And a shadow passed across his features. ‘The child takes an unholy time about his coming.’ ‘As did his father, if I recall correctly.’ ‘Fair point, my lady. I have heard tell of your quick wit. So you think a reluctance to enter England is hereditary?’

  ‘Nay, Your Majesty. I jest only, and beg your pardon for it.’

  ‘No pardon required. I desire to be amused. I am dull and melancholy with waiting, as you must be, my lady.’

  ‘As are we all, my lord.’

  ‘The rain has stopped.’ He had pulled back the covering from one of the windows. ‘What say you to a turn about the gardens? I need fresh air and I must stretch my legs.’

  The ground was soft under our feet and the trees and bushes dripped warm summer rain into puddles. Short though Philip’s legs were, he used them well, walking rapidly and decisively upon small and dainty feet. I felt large and ungainly beside him. I was some inches taller and, despite my slender frame, wider and bigger than the King of Spain in every dimension. I took one stride to each of his two, but it seemed not to bother him. Indeed, the eyes he rested upon me were frankly admiring, as they paused at length on my waist and bosom. We walked ahead of our entourage, his Spanish gentlemen flirting with my ladies. We could hear their merry laughter behind us.

  ‘I understand you have had the temerity to consult the stars, my lady.’

  ‘You understand correctly.’

  ‘And what were you told?’

  ‘Nothing but riddles, Your Majesty, and broad generalities to suit any circumstance.’

  ‘Tell me some of the riddles. I love a riddle and pride myself on my ability to find a solution.’

  ‘You put me on the spot, my lord. I do not know if I can remember exactly the words he used.’

  ‘Will you be queen, my lady? If you be human, you must have asked him that.’ I looked at the small man beside me. His eyes were frank, but solemn, and I smiled at his sudden seriousness. ‘Mere human, indeed I am, Your Majesty, and mere human it seems I am likely to stay, from what little I could make of his soothsaying – at least for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘Foreseeable by Master Dee, at least.’

  ‘Indeed, Your Majesty. Either he could not see or would not tell.’

  ‘Well, then, he deserves his spell in the Tower, if for no other reason than for taking your money under false pretences.’

  ‘I have heard he casts spells in his prison. They whisper that the man who informed on our visit now has two children who sicken and die.’

  ‘Did he frighten you, my lady?’

  ‘Not in the least. I believe Dr Dee to be a man of science and philosophy more than a magician. He practises the occult merely because he can attract more custom through astrology and fortune telling.’

  ‘I imagine you would be hard to frighten.’

  ‘You imagine wrong, then, sir. I have spent much of my life badly frightened.’

  ‘Well, you need fear no longer, fair lady, for, as your new brother, I shall be your protector.’

  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty. That is gracious. And ’tis true I have been long in need of male relatives.’

  ‘Perhaps, ere long, you may have another.’

  ‘Aye, my lord, let us pray to God it be so, and soon.’

  I confess it, Philip and I were great comfort to each other in those long weeks at Hampton Court during the queen’s lying in. We rode together and hunted daily. He proved to be as firm in the saddle as he was light on his feet. Frankly, I enjoyed his company. He made me feel attractive and desirable. He laughed at my jokes, applauded my songs, and whirled me about as we danced the Pavanne. If he was anxious about his wife and unborn child, he showed it not.

  For those few weeks, it was as if we were on a holiday, there was little work to be done and major decisions could not be made until we knew if the queen would survive and if there was to be an heir. Of course, as King of Spain and Princess of England, there was more to our friendship than mere liking. Both of us had lived long enough in the world of politics and intrigue to understand fully the fatal purpose behind the flowery compliments. As we danced to the court musicians, we also danced to the range of possibilities for the future that remained, ere yet, unsettled. If the queen died, Philip would lose his power in England completely, so it was in his interests to bind me to him, to gain my friendship and trust. If she lived, but the child died, both of our situations would remain unchanged. If she died and the child lived, he would rule England through his child, and my country risked becoming little more than a vassal of Spain. This possibility troubled the French so much that de Noailles could not resist attempting to fill my ears with poison about the king, whenever he had the opportunity. If both queen and child lived, Philip’s power would be greatly enhanced, but England would remain at least a little independent. For me, each possibility was improved by keeping Philip an ally, either by using him to help mitigate my sister’s hostility, or, if queen I became, a friendly Spain would be preferable to an unfriendly one.

  Others at court considered the same scenarios, and took their lead from Philip. From being shunned and exclude
d, treated as the Great Whore’s daughter or spawn of Mark Smeaton, my stakes rose. Great ladies dropped me deep curtsies once more, precedence was yielded to me, courtiers gathered about me, eager to flatter, praise, to catch my ear and my eye. People peddled me gossip, and tried to curry my favour for their friends and my enmity for their enemies. The contrast to my long imprisonment could not have been more extreme, but I let myself enjoy my change of circumstance, secure in the knowledge that I did not believe a single word said to me.

  How those long weeks must have felt for the poor queen, I do not like to consider. Slowly it must have begun to dawn on her that there was no child, nay and never had been, that something much more sinister grew in her womb, cruelly mocking her fondest hopes. But as long as no official announcement was made, the daily prayers and processions for the safe delivery of the queen continued, through June, into July and eventually, desperately, into August.

  ‘Begging your pardon, my lady, but the court is to go to Oatlands.’ Elizabeth Sands bobbed into her characteristically jerky curtsy in front of us. Philip and I had just returned from our morning ride. We were flushed and laughing from the exercise, and some absurd joke that the King of Spain had just stood up on tiptoe to deliver into my ear. Now our laughter died as rapidly as it had bubbled up.

  ‘When, Elizabeth?’

  ‘On the morrow, my lady – Your Majesty.’

  ‘ All the court?’ Philip’s tone was redolent of meaning.

  ‘Aye, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Including the queen and–’

  ‘Just the queen, Your Majesty.’

  He nodded with an air of finality and we stood and waited for my maidservant to retire to a distance.

  ‘So there was no child,’ he said, once she was out of hearing.

  ‘It seems not, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Her doctors have lately hinted as much.’

  I stayed expressionless and he just nodded, but no further words were spoken. It was as if the child that had never been, had never even been expected. ‘So, to Oatlands.’ He rubbed his small hands together vigorously, and I took his full meaning – child or no, we could at last move on.

  ‘With permission, I shall not come with you, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Why ever not?’ He seemed genuinely disappointed.

  ‘I have business to attend to.’

  ‘Surely any business can wait.’ His face softened to such an extent, that my own felt suddenly warm. ‘I would miss you, Elizabeth.’

  ‘It is urgent business, Your Majesty, and my steward has requested my immediate attention.’ I lowered my eyes, fully aware that the king kept his upon me for some time.

  ‘If you must go, Elizabeth, then far be it from me to detain you. You have our permission not to accompany the court to Oatlands.’ Perhaps he had understood.

  ‘Thank you, Your Majesty.’ I curtsied low and, slapping his riding gloves hard against one thigh, he left me. I appreciated his understanding and sympathy. Many would have bullied me to be more expansive, but there are times when it is better for those who could say much to say little. I did not wish to see my poor sister until the bitter disappointment of her situation had receded, and I was all too sure that she in her turn would not wish to see me. No matter how sympathetic I tried to be, she would know that her shame was my great triumph. Now she had emerged from this curious self-imposed incarceration my future once more depended on remaining in her favour. The sight of me at this moment would merely accentuate the loss of all she had hoped for and all she had believed that God had granted her. It would do neither of us any good.

  So I retreated from the court and returned to the relative safety and quiet of Hatfield. The queen resumed her duties as if nothing untoward had happened, but the ribald and disrespectful stories that circulated in the taverns about her tragic self-deception were also repeated to me. I will repeat none of them here. We monarchs may be called all-powerful rulers, yet even more than other mere mortals we cannot escape the judgement of our fellow men and the brutality of their opinions, when we fall from grace. Far too early in her reign, my sister’s desperate desire to bear a child had tarnished her currency and begun to corrode the respect in which she was held. It is a lesson I must also learn. Queens are judged more harshly than kings. My father could have six wives and remain in higher esteem than my sister, who simply failed to bear one child.

  When I did meet the queen again many months later, she was changed almost beyond recognition. Always an unhealthy woman, easily laid low by physical ailments and their attendant melancholy, the woman I saw when I returned to court, was shrivelled and shrunken. Her great and poisonous belly was visible despite the harsh lacing of her corsets. She sat on her throne as if cast there like a sack of barley, slumped to one side as if her back no longer had the strength to hold her upright. She made an effort to greet me as I entered her presence, smiling and bidding me approach with gestures of welcome. I had to fight to master my shock at her changed appearance. She looked a woman many years older than her actual age; a woman who was dying and, worse, had few regrets about it. She had a distracted air, as if she paid but cursory attention to what was going on around her. Her depression of spirit was obvious to all who beheld her and, while I well knew her death would be my salvation, as her sister I was deeply sorry to see her like this.

  ‘Your Majesty,’ I said, making my obeisance.

  ‘Sister. It has been many months since I have seen you. Have you completed the business that kept you from our sight?’

  ‘Aye, madam, and glad I am to see you well recovered.’

  The spasm that crossed her face in response made me regret my words, which came from politeness only. ‘Thank you,’ she said, and paused as if unable to remember who I was or what she might be required to say next.

  ‘How is your husband the king, Your Majesty?’ I was well aware that he had waited no longer than absolutely necessary before leaving the prematurely old and sickly woman who was his wife.

  ‘He is well, though gone back to Spain. He has promised to return ere long, and I must be patient. But I miss him so. I feel distracted with all this masculine business pressing upon me. I need his wise and experienced counsel.’

  ‘Indeed, Your Majesty. The King of Spain will be sorely missed.’ She looked up at me as I spoke and some of her old wariness returned.

  ‘That’s right, I had forgot – he left a message for you. He said to tell you how grateful he was for your kindness to him over the summer, and how he had endeavoured to repay you, though what he meant by that, I know not, for he left you neither gift nor token.’

  ‘Nay, madam, and none was expected. It is thanks enough to know he thought of me before he left for Spain.’

  When the queen leant forward and took hold of my hand, the heat and dryness of her small fingers surprised me. She lowered her voice so none but the two of us could hear. ‘Thank you indeed for your kindness. I worried about how angry he would be with me, but he upbraided me not at all. He was also kind, so kind. Kindness begets kindness, no doubt, and he bid me be kind to you. So for his sake I shall do my best, Elizabeth. I promise.’

  There was something childlike about her, something of the earnest little girl promising to do better and pleading for approval. She touched my heart. ‘Your Majesty has always been kind to me.’

  ‘Nay, not so, not so and my husband chided me for it. He is a great man, Elizabeth, a saint. Not many would forgive their wives so readily. I am trying to follow his fine example and forgive.’

  I did not know how to reply to her. Her demeanour threatened to unleash in me tears of pity and I felt if I attempted to speak, they would flow freely and I would be undone. Instead I blinked and swallowed hard. She did not speak either, but continued to hold my hand in silence, patting and stroking it, as if it were a little dog or cat, in need of placating.

  Yet, put not your faith in princes. My sister
had always blown both hot and cold on me, and while in her bewilderment she had my sympathy, I did not know whether her changed attitude towards me would once more wane. I remained prepared to be again cast out into the shadowy reaches of her suspicion and displeasure, as I had been so precipitously the last time she had been kind to me. But there was no denying there was a new note in the way she looked upon me, the softness in her voice when she spoke to me – or even of me. If Philip liked me, then, it seemed she liked me too.

  Yet I trod warily. Many of the other Catholics at court liked not this change in attitude, but they realised that Philip had not been made less powerful by his absence; rather, immeasurably more so. The queen wrote to him almost daily, seeking his counsel and advice. When she needed to make decisions quickly, she prayed God to tell her what Philip would have her do. Whatever he had said to her before he left, whatever advice or commands he had given, were to be obeyed slavishly. I thanked God quietly that he had seen fit to ask his wife to be kind to me. Nevertheless, I knew that court is always a difficult and dangerous place, particularly for an unmarried princess, who was now more likely than ever to inherit the throne. But the one step the queen still would not take was to acknowledge me as her heir.

  In the absence of any firm decision about my status, rumours about my future flew around the court more or less continuously. I was to be sent to Spain, I was to be sent to Brussels, married to a prince of Denmark, to Philip’s ten-year-old son Don Carlos or to a prince of France. I paid no mind and kept my own counsel. One delight was afforded me: my old tutor Roger Ascham arrived at court and took up a place as Latin secretary to the queen. Because his duties were light, we were soon able to resume our lessons together. It did me much good to see his wise and kindly face once more and we read together in Greek and in Latin.

  ‘You comprehend it all perfectly, Your Grace,’ he said to me, one afternoon as we finished reading the orations of Aeschines and Demosthenes on the crown. I knew he did not mean to compliment me only on my grasp of the Greek, but also on my understanding of their ideas, their observations on statecraft. His praise still had the power to make me feel overwhelmed.