by Laura Dowers
‘That impudent pup,’ Elizabeth snorted. ‘I have not forgiven him for that letter he wrote to me, telling me I should not consider marriage with the Duke of Alencon.’
‘Which he wrote for me.’
‘Well, of course he wrote it for you. I am no fool, I know that,’ she scolded. ‘I will not have him back at Court, so save your breath.’
‘No, madam, that is not what I would say. In fact, he serves me better where he is.’
Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. ‘And where is that?’
‘At present, in the Netherlands. I received a letter from him today. Would you read it please?’ He held out the letter to Elizabeth.
She turned her head away. ‘I already know what it says, and your opinion of what we ought to do about it.’
‘I see,’ Robert nodded, and re-folded the letter slowly.
Her eyes narrowed. ‘What do you see, Robin?’
‘Cecil has prejudiced you against me.’
‘Oh, don’t be so melodramatic.’ She looked up at him and grinned. ‘Cecil tells me that Drake is returning, laden with bounty.’
‘Yes, your pirate is on his way.’
‘My merchant adventurer, Robin,’ Elizabeth smirked.
Robert settled into a chair. ‘Bess, as you know, I have many friends in the Netherlands. With the Spanish running amuck, they appealing to me to help them.’
‘So Cecil told me. What form do they envisage this help taking?’
‘They ask for an army. With me at its head.’
Elizabeth studied him for a moment. ‘And how long has that idea been brewing, my cunning Rob?’
He smiled. ‘For quite a while, I admit.’
‘Then I will consider it,’ Elizabeth said, ‘for quite a while, I think.’
20
Whitehall Palace, London, September 1584
Robert smiled at the two men sitting opposite, the deputation that Philip Sidney had promised were coming from the Netherlands. One of them spoke so little English, he had barely said a word since he had arrived, whilst the other had been so flattered by Robert’s greeting that it had made him appear a little self-important.
He smiled back at Robert. ‘Our terms are these. Your sovereign provides aid to our poor country, in arms and money. And in return, when the war is over and we have won, she will reign over our people.’
Cecil leant forward, peering at a piece of paper in his wrinkled hands. ‘Just so I understand, sir. In exchange for men and money, the sovereignty of the States General will pass to Elizabeth, our Queen?’
‘That is correct.’
‘That is quite an offer,’ Robert said.
‘We are in great need,’ the envoy said earnestly.
‘So it would appear’ Cecil said, his reluctance evident.
‘We were led to believe,’ the envoy said hastily, ‘that our offer would be accepted.’
‘And who led you to believe such a thing?’ Cecil asked. The Dutchman glanced at Robert. Cecil caught the look. ‘I am afraid the Earl of Leicester is not placed to provide you with assurances of any kind regarding Her Majesty.’
Robert felt the heat flood his cheeks. How dare Cecil humiliate him like this! ‘Cecil,’ he snapped, ‘you mistake the situation. Her Majesty is quite aware of my involvement in the affairs of the States General. Understand, I speak for the queen, and the Dutch need only confirmation from her regarding appeals.’
‘Really, my lord?’ Cecil raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘I spoke with the queen this morning, and she made no mention of such a bestowment of power.’
‘You cannot blame me, Cecil, if Her Majesty does not keep you informed.’ Robert laughed, sharing the joke with the Dutch envoy.
Cecil and Robert stared at one another for a long moment, then Cecil rolled up his papers and addressed the Netherlanders. ‘This offer, gentlemen, will have to be discussed with the queen before any decision can be made. I and my colleagues thank you for coming to see us. You will be shown the way out.’ He gestured to a secretary. Cecil squinted at Walsingham. ‘What is that you are writing?’
‘A note to Her Majesty,’ he said, still scribbling. ‘Requesting her presence.’
‘Surely this can wait?’ Cecil said huffily.
‘If you will forgive me, my lord,’ Walsingham replied, ‘I am Secretary of the council, and that is a decision for me to make.’
‘I am here, gentlemen,’ Elizabeth announced, flouncing into the room. ‘What did the Netherlanders have to say?’
‘As I mentioned to you last week,’ Robert began, ‘they offer you sovereignty of the Netherlands in return for aiding them against the Spanish invaders.’
‘And as I told you last week, I will not accept.’
Cecil snorted quietly. Robert ignored him. ‘I understood that you would consider their terms before making a final decision, madam.’
Elizabeth saw Cecil gloating and had no wish to embarrass Robert. ‘Yes, I did, I remember now. Well, what are their terms?’
‘Francis, that paper,’ Walsingham handed it over. ‘These are their terms.’
Elizabeth took the sheet he handed her, and glanced down the page. Her frown confirmed Robert’s fears.
‘No, I will not have it,’ she said, tossing it aside.
‘Madam-’
‘I have done as you asked, Robin. I have read their terms and I am still not convinced. If I were to accept a crown from the Dutch, it would mean an open declaration of war on Spain, which may be what you want, Rob, but it’s not what I want.’
‘It’s not a case of my personal wishes, madam,’ Robert insisted. ‘Francis, what do you say?’
‘Aiding the Netherlanders is in all of our interests,’ Walsingham said. ‘If we do not become involved, the Spanish will take full control of the Netherlands, and our wool trade will suffer, probably to the point where it will collapse altogether.’
‘Oh, you exaggerate, Sir Francis,’ Elizabeth said dismissively.
‘No, he does not,’ Robert said. ‘Our trade will suffer, and if that is not reason enough, then it is our duty to aid the Netherlanders against the Catholic menace.’
‘When Philip of Spain has done with the Dutch, he will turn his attention to England,’ Walsingham said.
‘Oh, his Enterprise of England?’ Elizabeth said sceptically. ‘He’s been talking about that for years, and nothing has ever come of it.’
‘If the Netherlands were to fall, madam,’ Walsingham continued, ‘it would make the Enterprise far more likely.’
‘I will not accept a crown,’ Elizabeth said firmly. ‘England is quite enough for me.’
‘Then what of aid, madam?’ Robert asked impatiently.
‘I have agreed to aid them with men and money.’
‘With whom at their head?’ Walsingham asked.
Elizabeth glanced at Robert. ‘Whom do you suggest, Sir Francis?’
Walsingham gestured towards Robert. ‘The earl is well known as sympathetic to the Netherlanders cause, madam. He is a known advocate of Protestantism and is one of the foremost peers of the realm.’
‘And they know how close he is to me, so I am likely to favour him in any cause that concerns them,’ Elizabeth finished.
‘That was not what I was going to say,’ Walsingham said tersely.
‘That is what they are thinking though, isn’t it, Rob?’
‘I trust they are not, madam.’
‘I hope not, for their sake. You will not go. Someone else. Sir John Norreys maybe.’
Elizabeth jumped as Robert slammed his fist down on the table. ‘They do not ask for John Norreys. They want me.’
Elizabeth glowered at him, her jaw tightening. ‘Do not presume to raise your voice to me, sir. If I say you will not go, you will not go. I will hear no more about this. Sir Francis, you are to inform Sir John Norreys of my decision.’
She rose, ending the meeting, and left the chamber. Walsingham glanced at Robert and shook his head apologetically. Hatton wiped inky fingers on the tablecloth an
d said quietly, ‘I did not think she would let you go, Lei – wait… Leicester, wait.’
Robert had thrown his chair back, ignoring the clatter as it fell over and thudded against the floor. He hurried after the queen. ‘Your Majesty,’ he shouted as he turned a corner and spied her entourage further ahead. He quickened his pace as Elizabeth halted and turned. ‘I must speak with you, Your Majesty.’
‘I have said all I mean to, Robin.’
‘You must hear me, madam.’
‘Must?’ she repeated, raising an eyebrow.
‘I beg you.’
‘Very well.’ They walked to her chamber. ‘I know what you would say,’ she began. ‘You can spare yourself the trouble.’
‘Madam, I beg you, let me go.’
‘I have already spoken on the matter.’
‘I mean no disrespect, but I fear you do not fully understand the matter. Let me explain, away from Cecil so he cannot influence you and I shall give you the clear, unvarnished truth.’
‘That will be a first for you. Very well. On with your lecture, sir.’
‘No lecture, Bess,’ he said tiredly, taking a seat. He pointed towards her ladies. ‘Must they stay?’
She smothered a little smile, and told them to leave. ‘You never like my ladies around you, do you?’
‘I’m not keen on giving Cecil’s spies information. Anyway, whoever you send to the Netherlands, will be there as your representative. Do you want a nobody to be your deputy? Who in the Netherlands has heard of Sir John Norreys?’
‘He is an able soldier.’
‘That I do not doubt, but he is a knight, I am an earl, thanks to your good graces. An earl who understands their plight and one who sympathises with it, and sees the potential damage to England, a country I love as much as you do.’
‘That is quite a speech, Rob,’ Elizabeth said, quietly impressed. ‘You wish to leave my Court?’
‘I wish to be of service, Bess.’
‘You are of service. Here.’
‘I can serve you better there.’
‘You would be away for months, perhaps years. I can’t have you from me for such a long time.’
He leaned forward anxiously. ‘The Netherlands are only a few days sailing away. I could return at a moment’s notice.’
‘And leave your men?’ she asked sharply.
He smiled at Bess being as contrary as ever. ‘I would obey your orders.’ He waited for an answer, but she just sat there, her chin upon her hand. ‘For thirty years, I have served you faithfully, and will do so until the day I die. But for those thirty years, you have had me tied to your skirts, as if I cannot be trusted away from you. You will have succeeded in unmanning me, Bess, if you do not send me on this mission.’
‘I unman you?’
‘I have not been on a battlefield since St Quentin,’ he fell back exasperatedly. ‘You refused to let me go to Le Havre and I obeyed you in that.’
‘A good thing I did refuse, otherwise it might have been you who was shot and not your brother.’
‘My point is, I obeyed you in that, to my eternal shame.’
‘There have been no other battles for you to fight in,’ she said proudly.
‘How can I persuade you?’ he asked desperately. ‘Tell me, how?’
‘I will not be bullied,’ she shouted, stamping her foot. ‘Oh, I have had enough of this. If you so desperately wish to leave me, you can go.’
Robert fell to his knees. ‘Oh, Bess, you will not regret it, I promise you. Just think of the benefits. I will serve your interests, none other, and I can anticipate your wishes, for I know you so well.’
‘I shall hold you to that, Rob. Now get up but just one thing. Your wife stays in England. Do not argue with me on this, Rob. You can go to the Netherlands if you want, but you go alone. I won’t have Lettice queening it over there.’
‘Very well, Bess,’ Robert agreed. If that was her one condition, he could live with it.
‘Well, go. No doubt you will want to start making arrangements.’ She waved him away. ‘Send Essex to me. I could do with some entertainment.’
21
Elizabeth’s bedchamber, November 1584
He was gone. Elizabeth lay in her bed, her favourite spaniel rolling against her legs, showing his belly, waiting for his accustomed caress. None came. The dog was forgotten, for Robert was gone. Strange, she had not thought she would miss him so. She had other men now, younger and wittier, Raleigh for example, and Essex. So, why, why should she miss him so?
He had been gone but three days. She leant over to the table beside the bed and fumbled in its drawer, her fingers closed around the object she sought. A small oval frame. She smiled at its label: My lord’s portrait. It was an old picture, of course, painted many years before. When had she last looked at this? Oh, yes, she remembered. It was when James Melville, Mary Stuart’s ambassador, had come to court, and she had just created Robert, Earl of Leicester. What had she said to Melville then? That when Mary Stuart had Robert, she would need the picture, and she had snatched it from his hands. Why had she let him go to war? He could be hurt or killed. She knew she had been unkind, making him cold in the shade of her favour, while she preferred his stepson and other handsome young men. But that was only because she was getting old, and she did not want to be reminded of it every time she looked at him. And yes, she wanted to make him suffer, as she suffered. Her nights were tormented with thoughts of him and Lettice, and haunted by the ghost of the little boy she had wished dead. That was why she slept so little, demanded so many diversions. And now war, always men pushing her towards war. More deaths on her conscience, more danger for those she loved. Maybe she should recall him? But he would hate her for it, and then she would lose him completely.
God help me, she prayed, tell me what to do.
22
The Netherlands, December 1584
The mighty cannons of the port of Flushing boomed and their thunder rolled across the sea, rumbling to the hull of the ship that carried the new Lieutenant General, Robert Dudley. A small boat carried him and his party to the dock, where fireworks erupted high over their heads, and the crowds hanging over railings cheered and banged their drums. Robert waved and smiled, and wondered if this was how Elizabeth felt when she went out into the streets of London, or on progress through the country. Was this what it felt like to be a king?
‘Uncle,’ Philip halloed him from the dockside. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘And you, my boy,’ Robert called, taking the hand of a sailor and setting foot onto firm land. ‘I didn’t expected such a reception.’
‘Then you should have done, Uncle,’ Philip said. ‘The Netherlanders are a sorry people at present, but they have great hopes of you.’
Robert grimaced. ‘I feel sure then that they will be disappointed.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ll tell you later. Where do we go from here?’
‘To your headquarters for the next two nights. Then you go to Middlebury, Rotterdam, Delft, other towns whose names I have forgotten, ending at the Hague. So, I warn you, Uncle, this will be a tiring fortnight for you. Pageants and entertainments-’
‘No more than on one of the queen’s progresses, my boy. You must not worry about me.’
‘Then I must defy my mother,’ Philip laughed.
‘Well, you can write to your Mother and tell her not to worry about me either. I’ll be fine. I have you with me.’
‘You have rather more than me. I understand on that fleet out there,’ Philip pointed back to the dock, where the English ships floated on the horizon, ‘there are ten thousand horse and six thousand foot soldiers. Is that right?’
‘Sounds right,’ Robert nodded, ‘and we shall need them.’
‘And more besides, I should not wonder,’ Philip agreed grimly.
‘Well, don’t hope for more men. The queen has made it quite clear that she doesn’t favour this operation, and no doubt she will keep a tight rein on her purse strings.’
Philip moved closer to Robert and asked quietly, ‘What are the terms of your commission from the queen?’
Robert shrugged. ‘To maintain defences.’
‘Uncle,’ Philip frowned, ‘I have seen the terms of the Netherlanders commission to you. They expect you to perform offensive manoeuvres as well as defensive. I gave them a promise.’
‘I know you did, and I’m sorry. But it’s not me, it’s the queen. What can I do?’
‘But when the Netherlanders find out your limits?’
Robert patted his arm. ‘We’ll talk about it later, Phil. Just let me enjoy the moment.’
23
The Hague, Netherlands, January 1585
‘Uncle, let me call a physician,’ Philip said, handing Robert a cup of hot wine.
‘He would be able to do nothing,’ Robert shook his head, wincing at another stab of pain in his stomach. ‘It will be better in the morning.’
‘I cannot stand by and see you in pain,’ Philip persisted.
‘Phil, I thank you for your concern, but it must cease. The last fortnight has been something of a strain, that is all. Now, come and sit by me.’
‘Well, now the pageantry is over, the real work can begin.’
‘I have already started,’ Robert said, handing Philip a rolled up sheet of paper. ‘That has been given to the commanders to be posted up all over the camp.’
Philip unrolled the paper and read aloud. ‘Every man is to attend church services, no swearing or blaspheming, no whores or other camp followers, and under no circumstances are there to be violations of women.’ He let out a low whistle. ‘That is a tall order, Uncle.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Women are considered spoils of war.’
‘You think we should allow our army to rape women?’ Robert asked, aghast.
‘Of course not, Uncle,’ Philip assured him hastily. ‘I can think of nothing more abhorrent than rape, any disregard for women. But you and I speak of our own station. Such strictures often do not apply to men baser than we. You and I are not the rabble that serve in this army. How can you expect to enforce such a law?’
