by Alexa Schnee
I cannot wait to see you and hear your voice. I shall tell you of all that went on while you were gone, and perhaps we can sit around at nights together again, watching the baby Anne and waiting for Henry as we always have done.
Your friend,
Emilia
JUST AFTER SHROVE TUESDAY, Henry and I decided to meet in his chambers and organize a picnic for the spring. I sat in my usual velvet chair, sinking deeply into the seat and enjoying the opportunity to raise my feet after a long day of watching the new ladies-inwaiting. Henry sat at his desk, ruffling papers, calculating expenses, and looking over at me every so often.
“What do you think, my dear? Would early spring be a good time? There should be enough sun, and the blossoms will be full in bloom. Shall we make it a joust as well, to satisfy the men?”
I agreed. What better place for young lovers to meet than a joust?
“Only if you promise not to participate yourself,” I said.
“I am not as old as you think I am,” he said with his hands on his hips—which made him look very much as I imagined his father, King Henry the Eighth. “I keep you satisfied, do I not?”
I did not have the heart to tell him that he did not. The king’s son he may have been; a young man he was not.
“Of course, my lord, but the greatest men know when they must submit to time. Only foolish ones continue to play the games of the young.”
He seemed to be content with my answer and did not badger me anymore.
“Very well. A joust it will be, then.”
“It sounds lovely,” I sighed, running a hand on the familiar chair’s arm. “We must be sure that it will not conflict with the Easter festivities, but I think if we schedule it a bit later, everyone would be at liberty to come.”
“Excellent.” He folded a sheet of parchment and dropped some sealing wax on it. Then he pressed the ring he wore on his finger into the hot wax. “Should we invite the queen? Perhaps your friend Margaret?”
I turned in my seat so he could see my gratitude.
“Thank you. She might not be able to come, for she has just had a child, but she will appreciate the invitation anyway.”
“Is there anyone else we should include?”
“What would you say to inviting William Shakespeare?” I said. “As I recall, Her Majesty much enjoyed his plays and his troupe. They could provide some entertainment.”
One long glance from Henry told me that he had seen through my plan like one looks through a clear pool of water. He cocked his thin lips to the side of his mouth and his eyebrows rose.
“The bard is awfully busy in London,” he said. “He’s putting on a play at the Rose Theatre during that time. I sincerely doubt that he would be able to come.”
I lowered my eyes to the rug, both from shame and disappointment. I had given myself away, and now Henry would do anything to keep me away from Shakespeare. I sighed quietly so he wouldn’t hear. It would have been better to say nothing at all.
I suggested several less imposing names, including the poet Thomas Campion and a few dukes not too far from court, and then I asked to be excused. Henry kissed my cheek and smiled farewell and let me go. I walked down the crowded halls, bumping into many different colors of skirts. I knew I needed to forget William Shakespeare, for if I didn’t, others would try to make me.
SPRING ALWAYS MADE ME content, with its blooming flowers and greenery. I was given a new dress and a new pearl necklace for the joust. It contrasted nicely with my skin and made me feel elegant. I had Lady Bess tighten my corset while I held tightly to a four-poster bed. I hated the feeling of a corset, but it did make my waist appear smaller and give me a womanly figure that I did not seem to have naturally. I made sure my ruby ring was securely fastened on my finger and that my hair was smoothed back from my face. I wanted to look as elegant as possible for this event. Then it was time to go down. I straightened my gown and hurried out the door. I hoped I had done the job of a mistress well to such an important man as Henry Carey.
The field by the palace was decorated with banners and music. I was gladdened by how it turned out. The green grass sparkled under a layer of dew, while the sun shone brightly, casting everyone in a healthy, anticipative glow. Horses were led by amiable young stable hands. Men in armor paraded by in gallant reds and blues and handed kerchiefs to ladies, who grasped them tightly in their hands. It had taken more out of Henry’s purse to put this event together than both he and I would have liked to admit, but only the queen could have done better.
I was a little late in coming down to the field, and Henry had already settled himself in the middle of the benches used for seating. We had invited the queen and were surprised that she had accepted. When she was younger, she had attended all sorts of celebrations, but now that she was getting older, it was harder for her to run a country and pretend to be merry at all times. I feared she would watch my every move.
I joined Henry, who presided over the field as though he owned it. He looked as though he had spent a considerable amount of time hiding his age with lavish clothes and jewelry. Fine rings tried to distract from his swollen knuckles, and his belt was cinched tightly around his waist, but when the sun hit him, I could see that his skin was old, almost translucent, and his head balding.
“You are late, my dear,” he said as he gave the signal for the jousting to start.
“I am sorry,” I replied. “But I had to make sure that I looked as nice as possible, for I have never seen a joust as jubilant as this one.”
He smiled, took my left hand, and kissed it.
“You look as beautiful as this spring day.”
I pulled my hand away, but not so quickly as to offend him. “Who is up to joust?” I asked.
“Sir Walter Raleigh is up soon. He and the Earl of Essex want to have a bout.” He laughed.
“The Earl of Essex is back to court?” I asked. I could hardly believe it. Frances would still be with child…or maybe have just given birth. The Earl should be at her side, not here at court.
“Does the queen know?”
Henry shrugged.
“Is she here yet?” I looked around the field for the earl and the queen.
“I have not seen her.” He peered across the expanse of horses and riders. “Ah, wait. Here she comes.”
Elizabeth came toward us in her full majesty. Her skirts were twice as large as mine and decorated in the finest satin and lace. The large collar she had taken to wearing was edged in pearls, and her hair was twisted high upon her head in several complicated knots. She wore no crown, but the elaborate golden net covering her head could have served as one.
When she had come close enough to address us, she nodded her head. Henry and I both stood and bowed at her presence.
“Dear cousin; Lady Bassano. I don’t believe I have ever seen a joust as gallant as this one.” She spoke in a smooth, even voice.
“Thank you, Your Highness. My lady and I are beyond honored to have you here with us,” Henry said.
“Your lady is lovely today,” she said.
I could feel the color rise to my cheeks, and I gave a smile to the ground.
Henry moved so she could occupy the highest seat of the stands. He chose the next available one, the one to her right. I, in turn, sat to his right. I could not help but think how fortunate I was to have been paid such a high compliment.
“Isn’t that your cousin?” Henry said to me, pointing at an approaching horse and rider.
I swore under my breath, but not loud enough for the queen to hear. He was right. Alfonso was coming towards us. His dark eyes burned into mine, and I felt the same as I had when he followed me during the hunt. I did not need any distractions at the moment.
“Lady Bassano.” His voice was full of insincere civility.
“Yes?” I asked. My eyes went to the queen. Could he not see that I was in Her Majesty’s presence?
He held out a purple handkerchief. “I ask that you carry this with you, by your heart.”
Henry grunted and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest as he did, though I was sure he was watching me out of the corners of his eyes. Although it was a common practice for handkerchiefs to be given to whichever lady the jouster wished, jealousies and rivalries often erupted from the simple gesture. However, if I refused, I would not be showing my full support of my father’s troupe, and it might bring shame upon my name.
“Very well,” I sighed. I took it from him and stuffed it down my bodice. His eyes followed my action, and I instantly regretted it. He nodded his head at Henry and kicked his horse into a trot.
“I did not know that your cousin thought of you in that way,” Henry said, jealousy evident on his face. His lip quivered in anger.
“I assure you he does not,” I spoke harshly. “Think nothing of it, my lord.”
As soon as Alfonso left, Essex approached. He galloped up on a muscular bay and bowed, still on horseback, with a flourish. His armor was somehow brighter than anyone else’s on the field, and his eyes traveled to the seating area to meet Her Majesty’s gaze.
“My queen,” he said, his smile framed by his full beard. “Permit me to offer you this token of my admiration.”
I looked over to the queen to see what her reaction would be. Surely she would not take the handkerchief, knowing Essex was married. Then again, this would be just the kind of thing Elizabeth would delight in. Frances’s pain would taste awfully sweet to the queen.
She reached out a pale hand to take the wine-colored cloth. Then she stood and waved it in front of the rest of us, so all knew the name of her favorite.
The earl gave a closed-lipped smile. It was an all-knowing smile, as though he had the queen hanging on his every action. I wondered if he really believed that, or if he understood that the queen was always the one in control.
Essex saluted her and then urged his horse onward as the trumpets sounded for the joust to begin. I peeked to see what the queen was doing. The handkerchief was folded perfectly underneath her right hand.
Henry would not speak to me. He seemed indifferent to what was going on around him. It was a beautiful day and everyone loved the tournament that he had put on, so I did not know why he was upset.
“What is the matter?” I asked him.
“My dear, you seem to find all the men on the field more interesting than myself,” he replied.
He was a silly old man. I laughed and wrapped my arm around his, but the sad reality was that he had spoken the truth. I was glad I had not been around William Shakespeare more. I could only imagine his jealousy if I had been caught with his esteemed protégé.
“My lord, some men may be fairer of face, but none could have been kinder to me.”
SPRING SLOWLY SLIPPED INTO sleepy summer days. Henry was off to visit his wife once again, and I was free from his constraints. The days never felt so liberated or so wonderful. I spent most of my time out in the sun, and my skin turned the darkest color it had ever been. I was often the jest among the younger ladies who so painstakingly covered themselves so that they would not even turn even the slightest color of red.
Lady Bess approached me one day. I had been writing on a bench in the courtyard, the soft air brushing my face. Birds chirped around me, swooping over my head and threatening to land on my hat. The stone bench was hard, but it was the best place to sit down with a pen and my little book.
Lady Bess suddenly sat down beside me, peering at what I was doing. I moved over to make space for her and tried to hide my book on the other side on my skirts.
“Emilia? Do you have time to talk with me?” she asked, gazing at me a bit suspiciously.
“Of course,” I replied. I wanted to distract her from my forbidden activity. “What do you wish to speak of?”
Bess was always so curious about others’ doings. She smoothed her peach-colored dress and adjusted her gold necklace. Bess had always been a plain girl, but in the summer sun she looked as lovely as I had ever seen her. She smiled as though she felt pity for me before continuing.
“There is word going around that you accepted your cousin Alfonso’s handkerchief at the joust you and Henry Carey put on.”
I groaned. Of course rumors would have sprung from the simple action.
“Yes,” I replied, “I did. But it was only to get him to leave me alone. I was with the queen at the time.”
Lady Bess nodded as though she understood. She pursed her lips and smoothed her dress once again.
“I would be careful if I were you,” she advised. “Everyone is saying that you are secret lovers. If you can, I would avoid him, if you don’t want these rumors to continue.”
“You need not worry. I hardly enjoy his presence.”
“Good,” she replied. She ran a hand over the bench. “Would you take a walk with me? This summer air is so wonderful. Seems a shame to waste it.”
I agreed and slipped my little book into the pouch I wore tied to my belt. I looked over to see if she had noticed, but she was preoccupied with her own skirts. I gladly walked the length of the courtyard with her, surprised and grateful that she had warned me of the rumors crowding the palace.
MARGARET SENT A LETTER to me in late June to say that she was journeying back to court at the end of July, by order of the queen. I hadn’t been able to respond since I had taken the younger ladies out for a ride. That evening, I sat down at the small desk all the ladies in the chambers shared and began the letter back to her. It was late, around eight o’clock. The other ladies congregated by the pallets and gossiped. The night outside devoured the courtyard, and I couldn’t see anything out the dirtied window. I had to admit that ever since Lady Bess and I had been watching the new ladies, the chambers had become increasingly messy. Shoes and hats were strewn around the floor while petticoats covered chairs, making them look ghostly. They looked even more haunting in the dark.
I had just put my pen to paper when I saw Lady Bess out of the corners of my eyes. She sneaked around the back of the room and headed for the door. I was not sure if she had seen me yet. She did not want me to know that she was leaving the chambers. Keeping my eyes focused downward on the forgotten pages, I addressed her.
“Are you going somewhere?” I turned to meet her, twisting my body in my hard, solid chair.
She turned around quickly, her robes swishing about her. She seemed surprised to see me. Her knuckles were white as she clutched her silk robe. She looked exactly as I did when I was about to go to Henry Carey’s bed.
“Emilia,” she cried. “You startled me.”
“Did you forget something in the Great Hall, Lady Bess?” I knew fully well where she was going, I just didn’t know to whom.
The smile that she had been wearing replaced itself with a frown. “No…”
“Lose something in the garden?”
“No…”
The image of Frances that one time when she had come back from Thomas Campion’s bed flashed through my mind. She and Bess had exactly the same expression on their faces. Bess knew it was wrong.
I sighed. She had become my friend in the past few months. She would never replace Frances; I don’t think she even suspected she might. I did not want to make the same mistake as I had before, even if she wasn’t as dear to me.
“I won’t tell anyone. I give you my word that this will be our secret,” I spoke slowly and truthfully. Bess’s relationship had not been sanctioned by the queen, making it unacceptable. “But I want to warn you, this is the path Frances chose to take, and now her beloved Essex is once again at the queen’s side.”
Lady Bess nodded. The world paused for a moment while she decided. Her eyes were first on the ground, then at the clock, and then at the door. She opened the door and
walked through the opening. Her face was the only thing visible as she looked back.
“Thank you,” she said.
Then, she was gone.
LATER THAT SUMMER, ABOUT the time Margaret came back to court with her baby, it was discovered that Lady Bess was pregnant. One of the younger ladies had seen her vomiting in the privy chamber and ran to me, crying.
“Lady Bess needs you,” she spoke hurriedly, taking my hand and dragging me to her side.
Bess lay in a disturbing heap. Her skirts were in disarray and pushed far back behind her to keep them from getting dirtied. She could barely look up at me in her shame.
“I know what I did was wrong, Emilia. But now I don’t know if even Sir Walter can save me.”
Her worry was well deserved.
Lady Bess was sent away from court when the queen found out that her lady-in-waiting was secretly married to her paramour. She was locked in the Tower of London along with her husband, their fates uncertain.
I remember watching her from an upstairs window as the rain danced on the top of the carriage she left in. She maneuvered through the cramped carriage door, looking up at court for the last time. I closed the window, the cold air ceasing its journey into the room.
I later heard she’d miscarried that cursed child in the Tower, but by that time, it was too late for Lady Bess.
ENGLAND, 1592
DURING THE REIGN OF QUEEN ELIZABETH I
HAMPTON COURT
WE WERE ALL HAPPY when Margaret returned to court with her baby. She seemed happier than I had ever seen her, and we all rejoiced in having her to guide us once again. But it was a hard time to be a mistress. Margaret was so exhausted from her days that I waited up for Henry’s word by myself. The clock became both my ally and my enemy. After midnight it was my saving grace; before, there was danger in it.
One afternoon I was washing clothes, wringing them out in the convenience room adjoining the chambers, water dripping on my apron, when suddenly I felt ill. I searched for something to hold onto. I grasped the edge of the large tub of steaming water and waited for the feeling to pass. I took deep breaths, steadying myself enough that I could return to work. After a few moments, I tried to move and began to hang clothes again. It was nothing. It would pass. The water from the clothes soaked my dry sleeves.
