The Queen's Secret

by Victoria Lamb

  Lettice bent to avoid a low-hanging branch. It turned her stomach to think of her own darling Robert having to touch Elizabeth’s wrinkled breasts and kiss her sharp red lips, while her ladies-in-waiting sat scarlet-faced over their embroidery in the Privy Chamber, pretending not to know what was going on inside their mistress’s bedchamber.

  Of course, she knew Robert performed such services for advancement only, that he felt no physical desire for the Queen – and never had done.

  It was growing dark among the trees, and torches had been lit ahead of the hunt to show the way back to the castle. The woods shone with their smoking light. Lettice looked up and shivered. In the strange billowing glow, the leaves on the trees looked as though they were made of metal, a thousand glinting spear tips above her head.

  ‘My lady, at the back again? This is too modest for a countess. Surely you should be riding at the head of the hunt, alongside Her Majesty and my uncle?’

  It was young Philip Sidney, his smiling wink conspiratorial as he reined in his horse alongside hers.

  She smiled at him wanly, careful not to give any impression of discontent or unhappiness that could be taken back to Elizabeth. For all she knew, he had been sent to spy on her.

  ‘I am happy enough here with the other ladies,’ she murmured. ‘Have you come to a decision yet? Will you accompany the court to Chartley when we leave Kenilworth? I have written to my Penelope, to let her know you may be among the Queen’s party. She is eager to see you again. And grown so tall, you will not recognize her. She is almost a woman now.’

  ‘I have spoken to my uncle on the subject, my lady, and he sees no reason why I should not stay on with the court a little longer. There is some business in London I will need to attend to, but nothing so pressing it won’t wait until the end of the summer.’

  He bowed his head, but she saw the flicker of deception in his eyes. She was disappointed, but not surprised. Few could live at court more than a few months and not become corrupted by its dazzle, however pure they had begun.

  ‘So add me to your list of guests at Chartley, my lady Essex. And let me know if there is any other way I can serve you.’

  Dear sweet Pip. But what was he hiding from her? She continued to smile while her mind ran through the possibilities. Had Elizabeth drawn him into her service already?

  She lowered her voice, conspiratorial. ‘Serve me?’

  Philip looked startled but swiftly recovered. ‘In any way you desire, madam. Just say the word.’

  ‘Would you spy for me?’ she asked lightly.

  Philip’s face seemed to pale in the gloom, and his eyes widened in shock. ‘Spy? My lady, I cannot countenance—’

  ‘Don’t look so alarmed. I only mean for you to spy on your uncle Robert for me. He and I—’

  She checked herself and looked about again, but it seemed safe enough. One of the huntsmen had begun to sing and some of the women were humming along with his tune, their faces lightening as the hunting party approached the end of the Chase. Already they could see the torches, set on the castle’s outer defences to guide them home, flaming ahead on the hill.

  ‘He and I have an understanding,’ she continued more softly, ‘as I’m sure you must be aware. Yet your uncle still looks elsewhere, even though he can have no hope of success. You are an intelligent man – I don’t need to speak the name aloud – but it grieves me to watch their intimacy, just as it grieves others.’

  He seemed to choose his reply carefully as he looked along the mane of his horse.

  ‘My lady, I’m honoured that you should confide in me with so delicate a matter, but I cannot help you. No – let me explain: more influential men than I have tried and failed to stop this intimacy, as you put it. Unless it directly affects the succession, as a courtier, what happens behind closed doors is none of my business and I shall not interfere, though I see how it must grieve you to witness such hurts at first hand. But you are a married woman, my lady Essex, and your husband has his own spies here at court. Nor have you been entirely discreet since your arrival.’ He raised his head to look at her, and she was shaken by the frown in his eyes. ‘To be blunt, I would strongly urge you to drop this matter – unless you are not afraid for Essex to discover it.’

  ‘And is this your only answer? That I should give up what little I have and cede it to her?’

  ‘It must be so. I’m sorry.’

  Her face flushed with anger. ‘What do I care if my husband learns of this?’ She did not expect a response, for to tell the truth her heart was thudding at the thought of Essex’s reaction to the news that she and Robert were lovers. She felt a wave of nausea but kept her head high, her back straight in the saddle despite her weariness. ‘My husband does not love me. I am merely a brood mare for his stable. He will not care what I have done.’

  ‘You are mistaken, my lady, and I advise you to be cautious what you say. There are those who might overhear you and mistake your meaning.’ Philip’s voice had dropped to a stern whisper.

  Lettice looked behind her and saw a rider in black and silver nudge past, as though he had only now caught up with the rest of the party. She did not recognize him at first, then caught the glint of his gold chain as his head turned, the curling black hair under his feathered cap. Massetti, the young Italian who had only recently come to court and now seemed to be working for Walsingham. Could he have overheard their conversation? Handsome and charming he might seem, but Massetti would no doubt repeat every word to his master as soon as the hunt returned to the castle, and then she would have to answer for her disloyalty.

  At her side, Philip leaned towards her, looking grim. ‘You must be aware of how things stand with the Queen. Her life is in constant danger.’ He gathered his reins. ‘Until she agrees to marry, she will be the target of every crazed Catholic assassin and mercenary in Europe. Her stubborn insistence on clinging to a virgin state destabilizes England as surely as if we were at war. And if the man who has the honour of sharing her throne should be my uncle …’ He shook his head. ‘In truth, I cannot think of a better husband for our queen than Robert Dudley.’

  Lettice drew breath to respond but Philip pressed her hand warningly.

  ‘Remember what happened to poor Amy Dudley, my lady, and have a care what you say,’ he muttered in her ear, then set spurs to his horse and rode to the head of the hunting party, leaving Lettice on her own in the dark.

  Twenty-two

  ‘COME, BESS, LET us race for home!’

  Elizabeth had not ridden so recklessly since she was a child. Branches whipped at her face under the low-hanging trees, her cap tumbling off as they raced back to the castle. Bent low along her horse’s neck, with only Robert ahead and two of his men riding behind, she thrilled at this sudden, unexpected burst of freedom. All that mattered was this wild gallop across rising ground to the safety of his fortress. Its dark towers loomed ahead, and she could see some kind of commotion along the walls: men were pouring out from the gatehouse, the guard dogs were being brought forward, and a long row of Warwickshire bowmen had already assembled on the battlements in their distinctive green and black livery, their vast yew bows drawn back and trained on the woods. Why the display of force, she wondered.

  As they approached the gate the guard barked out a warning, and pikes flashed down to bar their way into the castle. Then Robert shouted the password, swiftly the pikes were withdrawn, and their horses clattered noisily under the sombre archway lit only by wavering torches, their smoke thick and acrid.

  A boy ran forward to help them dismount, but Robert waved him away. ‘We’re riding on,’ he seemed to be saying, his voice muffled by the stone walls all around them. ‘Tell those who follow that the Queen is safe inside.’

  He turned in the saddle to look at Elizabeth, and she caught his excitement. He spoke without his usual deference, his tone as direct and intimate as it had been in the days before her sister Mary died, before she had come to the throne of England. There was a boyish exhilaration to his voice t
hat she had not heard for many years.

  ‘Bess, do you trust me?’

  ‘With my life.’

  ‘Then follow me, and keep low on the horse. Whatever happens, look at no one and stop for nothing.’

  Dismissing the two guards who had followed them from the woods, Robert spurred his horse across the outer court, where tents and hammocks hung among the ancient oaks. Elizabeth kept close by his side, bending low as he had instructed her. Men scattered before them, and curious faces peered out from under tent flaps as they passed. One or two shouted after them, but none dared get in their way. A moment later they were thundering across the narrow wooden bridge into the inner court.

  Again, the guards on the entrance raised their pikes in surprised obedience to Robert’s staccato command, clearly taken aback by the sight of their lord and queen entering on horseback unaccompanied.

  ‘Allow no one to pass until the entire hunting party has returned,’ he called out, and the men saluted.

  The inner courtyard was deserted.

  Dismounting from his sweating horse with uncharacteristic carelessness, Robert turned to help Elizabeth. ‘Come.’ He pulled off his feathered cap and handed it to her. ‘Cover your hair, and follow me. Draw your cloak tight. Not a word, understand?’

  Elizabeth nodded, sensing no fear in him, only urgency.

  There was a low door at the base of one of the towers. He took a key from his pocket and unlocked it, then gestured her inside. It was suffocatingly dark. With no torches to light the way, she was able to make out only a stone staircase in the tiny space before the door swung shut behind them.

  Quickly, he locked the door and checked it was secure. ‘Up there,’ he told her, urging her towards the spiral staircase, his voice echoing eerily. ‘Keep climbing.’

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘Hush, I’ll explain when you’re safe.’ Robert ran lightly up the stairs, soon catching her up. ‘Don’t stop.’

  He was close behind her in the darkness; she felt his hand in the small of her back, guiding her upwards with a gentle but insistent pressure.

  For the first time, Elizabeth felt a flicker of fear. What could Robert be planning?

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, reading her thoughts.

  Instinctively, she lied. ‘Nothing,’ she whispered. She stripped off her gloves, suddenly needing to feel the tower wall under her fingertips. ‘Where are you taking me? What is this place?’

  His hand touched her cheek and she flinched. Robert laughed under his breath. ‘Coward.’

  At his laughter, her temper, brought to the edge of her control by fear, snapped. She gasped at his impudence, batting his hand from her face as she might knock away a wasp. ‘God’s blood, don’t tease me! I am your queen, or had you forgotten?’ Her voice resonated about the stone walls, deep and furious with command.

  Robert took a quick step backwards, perhaps surprised by her anger, and she pressed home her advantage.

  ‘Why did you bring me here, and why isn’t there a single torch on the wall of this godforsaken tower? Must we stand about in darkness all night like dumb beasts in a stable, or will you take me to some properly furnished chamber?’

  Huskily, Robert whispered her name and caught her by the waist. ‘Elizabeth, my love.’ One hand dragged her close to his body, the other cupping her cheek. It was not the reaction she had expected. Pressed against the rich fabric of his doublet, her head was almost on a level with his, and she stared into his face in dismay.

  ‘Let me go or I shall scream.’

  ‘Not without a kiss, sweet Bess.’ He was smiling again, she could tell from his voice. ‘Besides, there is no one to hear. This tower is empty except for us, and the walls are thick enough to withstand a siege – or muffle a woman’s scream.’

  She struggled against his hold. ‘This is treason!’

  ‘If it’s an act of treason to kiss you, to lie with you and touch you, why is this wicked head still on my shoulders?’

  Elizabeth felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Several times, Robert had crept into her bed and lain beside her for a secret hour, kissing and touching her with feverish need, their half-clothed bodies pressed up against each other like a young couple before their wedding night.

  Oh yes, she burned for Robert Dudley, and she had never concealed her desire from him or the court. But her fear of becoming pregnant was greater than her fear of assassination.

  ‘I do not like this dark,’ she said decisively.

  Robert hesitated, then released her. ‘Very well,’ he said unsteadily, and Elizabeth realized with a sudden spasm of sympathy that he was not her enemy, merely a man in the grip of the same helpless desire as herself. ‘There’s a private chamber above. You will be both safe and comfortable there until I have sent out to make sure there is no assassin loose in my castle.’

  ‘Surely we are beyond the reach of our enemies here?’

  ‘Someone fired a crossbow at you in the woods, Elizabeth. The bolt missed but could have killed you.’ She heard the strain in his voice. ‘When will you learn to take your safety more seriously? It would be hard to rule England if you were dead.’

  All argument defeated, she followed him up the winding stairs. Her heavy riding gown gripped in one hand, she felt for the tower wall with the other.

  There was a lit torch guttering in the room above. Elizabeth stood uncertain by the door while Robert carried its smoking remains to two freshly trimmed torches set into brackets in the wall, which flooded the chamber with light. It was a small room but comfortably furnished, just as he had promised. A large bed, strewn with silks and furs, stood in the centre, and beside it a table with two straight-backed chairs and an intricately carved chessboard. It spoke of the most intimate of meetings, a secret assignation. Like a good host, Robert lit a large cylindrical candle from one of the torches and set it on the table, where it glowed with a gentle light.

  Was this the scene for a seduction?

  He drew back one of the chairs and bowed in her direction. ‘Your Majesty?’ She came forward, noting a flagon of wine on the table and two smokily patterned cups of the most exquisite Venetian design. ‘Shall I pour you a drink?’

  She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, and watched as he served her.

  Robert passed her the wine. ‘Excuse me a moment,’ he murmured. He left the room via a narrow doorway she had not noticed before, closing it behind him with a quiet click. Another means of escape, should that prove necessary.

  Elizabeth sat in a tense silence, sipping at the strong Rhenish wine, willing it to revive her. Her thoughts tumbled about like the pack of hounds they had followed, excitable, chasing their own tails, waiting for some definitive scent or sign from the wild. Someone fired a crossbow at you in the woods. The bolt missed but could have killed you. She understood now their headlong flight back to the castle, and Robert’s urgency. But for what purpose had he brought her here, vulnerable and alone, without even the watchful company of her ladies? Did he intend to force her to accept his offer of marriage at last, perhaps by means of a rape?

  Elizabeth smiled and rearranged the full skirts of her riding gown. It would not be a rape. Nor would it sway her mind either way. Not while that she-wolf Lettice still stood between them, ambitious, hoping perhaps to be elevated to the throne herself.

  She gulped at the fragrant red wine. My sweet cousin, she thought wretchedly, whose neck might yet taste the loving edge of an axe. Yet what could she do to part them forcibly that would not have the court and the whole of England itself in an uproar? It was one thing to have power, and quite another to wield it. Every action had its consequence, and she did not want the people to think of her as too much her father’s daughter.

  Robert came back after a few minutes, his face grim. ‘The hunt has returned. It may have been a false alarm. I’ve ordered a full search of the woods though.’

  ‘I must return to my rooms.’

  ‘No hurry.’ He perched on the edge of the table, looking
down at her. ‘I gave out that you are resting from the day’s exertions.’

  Anger flared in her heart. ‘I am not so frail, my lord. You had no business to tell such lies about your queen.’

  He smiled. ‘Not frail, no. Yet still a woman.’

  ‘There will be talk.’

  ‘There would be talk even if we never saw each other again. That is the way of the court.’

  Elizabeth had to acknowledge the truth of that. She placed her wine carefully on the table, glancing at the board there. ‘Chess?’

  ‘Would you like a game?’

  She thought about it, then shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  Robert slipped off the table, still as light on his feet as he had been when they were young. He pulled out the high-backed chair opposite, settling himself in it loosely, and leaned on the table, one booted foot swung over his knee. Elizabeth smiled, watching as her favourite dragged the heavy chessboard to a more central position, turning the board so that the white pieces were towards her. Robert had never been able to sit still for any length of time. She supposed such restlessness must be common in men of an active temperament. She too loved to be active, yet as a child it had become second nature to sit still as a stone and attempt not to be noticed, for those who were noticed might not live to learn the lesson.

  ‘You’ll wish to play white, I imagine.’ His smile was crooked. ‘Unless you had rather keep to my story and go to bed?’

  Their eyes met and she knew he was serious. ‘Oh,’ she said lightly, though she could not quite control the tremor in her voice, ‘I will not give you what you can get so easily elsewhere.’

  ‘Explain?’

  She sent a pawn forward two paces. ‘My lady Essex.’

  Robert considered the board, frowning. He moved a pawn to counter hers. ‘A married woman. She cannot give me what I desire.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘Marriage, of course.’

  She smiled. ‘You had a wife once before, my lord. Matrimony did not seem to suit you, as I recall.’