by David Field
‘So what ails her?’
‘I am a physician, Your Majesty, not an astrologer and some questions of physic remain locked in the stars of our birth. With your beloved wife, my best guess would be some sort of growth within the stomach.’
‘Is that the best you can manage, man? A guess?’
‘It is a guess born of my many years of tending to the sick. Sick women in particular.’
‘And this growth of which you speak? Will it go down?’
‘Perhaps a purging, Majesty? Or a bleeding? But Her Majesty will permit neither, in case it harms the child she is expecting.’
‘Expecting in her mind, but not her belly, is that what you are telling me?’
‘Yes, Your Majesty.’
‘This has occurred on a previous occasion, has it not? And on that occasion the swelling went down?’
‘On that occasion, yes, Majesty. I was in attendance then also and it was the opinion of most of us that Her Majesty had caught some sort of contagion that rid itself of her system when she began a series of involuntary purgings.’
‘Can that not happen again?’
‘It might, of course,’ Swindley conceded. ‘But the growth, the swelling, call it what you will, seems harder to the touch on this occasion. And Her Majesty will not permit too much touching, because it offends her natural senses of dignity and modesty. Also because it hurts.’
‘Did it not hurt on the prior occasion?’
‘If it did, Her Majesty did not complain of it.’
‘If the swelling does not go down on this occasion, what say you will be the outcome of it all?’
‘You will not take my head, Your Majesty?’ the physician cringed pathetically.
‘Not if you tell me true.’
‘To tell you true, Your Majesty, you will be left a widower.’
XVIII
Philip cantered his horse hard through the gates of Hatfield House in an effort to keep up with Robert Dudley, the better horseman on the finer steed. At the end of the curving drive the stable boys ran out and took hold of the bridles as the two visitors dismounted and headed for the front doors, where an usher bowed them through the entrance hall and scuttled after them as they reached the foot of the staircase that gave access to the Great Hall.
‘I shall tell the Lady Elizabeth that you are here and I shall give instruction for the guest chambers to be aired and for fires to be lit,’ the Steward told them as he scurried out from his parlour after being alerted by the door usher. ‘You will bear with me, I trust,’ he added, ‘since your visit is unexpected. The Lady said nothing of your intended arrival.’
‘No, our decision to travel from London was taken in haste,’ Robert told him. ‘You may tell your mistress that we attend upon her in the Great Hall and you may tell your Chamberlain that we are thirsty.’
‘Two unexpected pleasures arriving together,’ Elizabeth said as she hurried into the Hall. ‘I trust that you are not the bringers of bad news from London?’
‘No,’ Philip replied in French, ‘the Queen is as well as she has been this past year or so. She is with child, as you will have heard, and this difficulty causes her some discomfort. And it is in connection with this that I wish to converse with you, if possible privately.’
Elizabeth looked quickly across at Robert, whose face remained motionless. She was well aware, from their days together in the royal schoolroom, that Robert’s French was more than adequate but Philip must be persuaded that even with Robert in attendance he would be speaking privately with her.
She told Philip, ‘You might as well address me in the Mohammedan tongue, for all that Robert here understands more advanced French, so you may speak freely in his presence.’
Philip lowered his voice as he continued. ‘I am advised by my wife’s physician that what is in her stomach is no child, but a growth. There is a real prospect that she will not survive and should this be the case then England will be left in peril from the French, whose King will soon have Mary of Scotland within his family, as Mary has me — and Spain — in hers.’
‘But you would not desert England in its hour of need, simply because you are no longer the consort of its Queen?’ Elizabeth asked, unable to see where the conversation might be heading.
Philip smiled and inclined his head to one side. ‘For myself I would not, of course. But there are those in Council — and many more within the nation — who would wish me away from here. They only tolerate me at present because I am married to their Queen and they cannot see that by this happy union England is in every way protected from French invasion and may look forward to many years of prosperity through the cloth trade with Flanders that is currently under my control.’
‘But even were you not resident in England, you would continue to serve its interests from abroad, would you not?’
‘Of course, dear lady. But in my absence, who can guarantee that those in Council who favour France and are opposed to Spain, may not sway the remainder into actions that would be detrimental to England’s best interests?’
Elizabeth thought for a moment only, before an obvious point occurred to her. ‘If my sister were to die, then in accordance with our father’s will I would be Queen of England, would I not? Then my voice could be heard in Council and you may rest assured that Spain will always be accounted our first and foremost ally.’
‘Your sister was in some difficulty in persuading previous Councils on that matter, my Lady. They only agreed to accept the assistance of Spain when I became your King — and there are some even yet who begrudge to honour me with that title. With Mary gone, who will argue for Spain’s continued protection in the face of so much treachery from those who favour France? And how may I remain in England to ensure that my strong hand is always behind its Queen?’
Elizabeth bit her lip in apprehension when the light suddenly dawned and she gazed back at Philip with a slightly open mouth. ‘There would be one obvious way, of course. Are you proposing —?’
‘Yes, my dear Lady,’ Philip interrupted her as he sank down on one knee, ‘I am proposing.’
‘Marriage?’ Elizabeth demanded, her face a mask of horrified indignation. ‘With my sister not yet even on her death bed?’
‘She will be, ere several more months have passed, my sweet,’ Philip urged upon her as he reached for her hand.
Elizabeth leapt back indignantly and looked across at Robert. ‘Did you understand all that, Robert?’ she asked in quavering English.
Robert nodded. ‘Yes,’ he confirmed, ‘unfortunately I did.’
‘And will you bear witness that my answer is no?’
‘Of course, dear Lady. It is quite outrageous and a dreadful insult to your dear sister.’
‘You would both do well to give my proposal careful consideration,’ Philip muttered as he rose to his feet with somewhat shamefaced dignity. ‘Elizabeth because she will need the might of Spain behind her when she is Queen of England and her cousin the Scottish whore becomes the French Queen, and Robert because one word from me and you will be back in the Tower. The Dudleys remain traitors in Mary’s eyes and she only favours you because I do. You will both lose my friendship at great cost to yourselves. I shall ride hard back to London immediately, before night can overtake me. I have no wish to be in your company when I do, Robert, but perhaps it would be better for us both to ride alongside each other, to deter footpads. Now, if you would excuse me?’
With a stiff bow he strode out of the sitting room and could be heard in the hallway, calling in broken English for his horse to be rubbed down and fed, ready for departure within the hour. Elizabeth and Robert stared blankly at each other until Elizabeth broke the stunned silence.
‘Did I just dream that?’
‘If so, then I had the unique experience of sharing a dream with someone,’ Robert replied. ‘I hope that he doesn’t deny me the opportunity to return to France with him, as we were planning.’
‘I just hope that my sister doesn’t learn of this conversation,
’ Elizabeth muttered with a face that betrayed her alarm.
‘There were only the three of us,’ Robert reminded her. ‘You will obviously say nothing and neither will I, trust me. That just leaves Philip and he is hardly likely to tell his own wife, on what may be her death bed, that he is contemplating wedding her sister.’
‘Even so, I am fearful,’ Elizabeth admitted. ‘She would definitely have my head this time. Why is it that so many alleged acts of treachery seem to fly about my innocent head without any conscious action on my part? Like a wounded rabbit being attacked by hawks. Oh Robert, please don’t you desert me in all this! I’ll be sent back to the Tower and my head removed and I’ve done nothing to deserve it. Nothing! Oh dear God, have pity!’
Three weeks later, Elizabeth’s worse fears were realised when Cecil rushed into the small parlour at the rear of Hatfield House where Elizabeth was taking a late breakfast with Blanche Parry. He stopped abruptly in the doorway, then strode purposefully towards the table, from which Elizabeth rose and held her hand out to be kissed.
‘No time for that, my Lady. Where is Thomas?’
‘Officially at his accounts in the estate room,’ Blanche replied. ‘But I have no doubt that if you make further enquiry, you will find him either causing further fluttering among the female servants, or sneaking food from the cook. Why would you be in such a hurry to learn more of his disobedience?’
Cecil looked at Elizabeth with a strained expression. ‘You must take yourself off to somewhere very remote, my Lady. Somewhere where Mary would not think to look for you.’
‘Why?’ Elizabeth demanded in alarm. ‘What does she believe me guilty of this time?’
‘The worst sort of treason,’ Cecil told her, white-faced. ‘She is said to be screaming abuse at anyone who comes near her, accusing everyone of being in on the plot.’
‘What plot?’ Elizabeth demanded as she steadied herself with a hand on the edge of the table.
‘She has been informed, by whom I know not, that Philip of Spain has proposed marriage to you, in the belief that Mary is dying and that there will be no heir.’
‘It’s true,’ Elizabeth admitted in a faint voice as she sat down again heavily. ‘I of course declined his offer and all but ordered him away from Hatfield, but it’s true that he offered me his hand in marriage — to save England, as he explained it.’
‘Whatever his reason, Mary is demanding that you be hauled down to London and returned to the Tower. But she is in such a disturbed state of mind that most are putting her belief in your treachery down to a disorder connected with her physical ailment. She has taken to her bed at St James’s Palace and it would seem that she has finally accepted the advice of her braver physicians that there is no child pending. But in her grief she has, it is reported, become ungovernable and not even her Council members dare approach her. I have ridden through the night to warn you and you must go from here today.’
While Cecil had been recounting all this distressing news, Elizabeth had been staring into space, struggling with her emotions. Now a long slow tear rolled down her cheek as she looked up at Cecil. ‘There was only one other person present when Philip made his wild proposal, and that was Robert Dudley. It must have been he who reported the conversation to my sister.’
‘Whoever it was, the truth is that she knows. She has seemingly banished Philip from her very presence and he has taken himself off to the Low Countries to escape her wrath.’
‘I cannot believe that Robert would do that,’ Elizabeth murmured, as if in a trance.
Cecil looked across at Blanche with an expression of exasperation. ‘Prepare the Lady and yourself for several days of travel and then a lengthy sojourn in a remote location further north. Then persuade your friend and mistress that I do not jest. We must all leave here by nightfall at the latest.’
XIX
‘When — if ever — do you intend to advise us where we are headed?’ Thomas demanded peevishly as he rode by Cecil’s side through a dense wood in Northamptonshire. Behind them rode Elizabeth and Blanche Parry and behind them a handful of grooms and male attendants from Hatfield, dressed and equipped to look like soldiers, but praying that they would not be required to act like them.
Cecil looked carefully behind them, to ensure that they would not be overheard by the two ladies who were exchanging words in a subdued fashion — one could hardly call it an animated conversation — then nodded ahead. ‘We ride to Bradgate.’
‘You are finally letting me return to Knighton? Have I displeased you in some way?’
Cecil tutted with irritation. ‘One day you will learn that the entire world does not revolve around you. We are headed to Bradgate because it is remote, it is so situated to facilitate a swift escape and it is currently available free of charge. One advantage of being a Surveyor of Royal Estates is that one knows which of them are currently occupied and which are not. The Lady Frances Grey has transferred to London and although the estate has been forfeit to the Crown, Queen Mary has not yet — to my knowledge anyway — granted it to anyone else. When we arrive, it may be necessary for the ladies to be accommodated at Knighton while I commission enough of a new household at Bradgate to serve two high-born ladies. Remember that no-one must know who Elizabeth is — not even her new servants at Bradgate, and certainly not any of your family at Knighton. That is why she is dressed as she is — even should people form the conclusion that the two are lady and maid, they will hopefully conclude that Blanche is the lady of the two.’
‘That will please her, the stuck up cow!’ Thomas muttered.
Cecil groaned. ‘May I remind you that in order to assist the Lady Elizabeth to escape the Queen’s clutches, we are probably both guilty of treason? So, in your own best interests — which seems to be all that ever motivates you — learn to accept the situation in which you find yourself and behave appropriately. This is how I have both survived and flourished in this turbulent world that we occupy.’
‘How long shall we be at Bradgate?’ Thomas asked.
‘For myself,’ Cecil replied, ‘no longer than is necessary to ensure that the ladies are both safely and comfortably accommodated. My absence from normal duties will soon be noticed and my face is reasonably well known, even in these dismal parts of the realm. I must return to Court without undue delay and choose the moment to journey back here and advise Elizabeth that it is safe to return.’
‘After the Queen’s death, you mean?’
‘Who knows if she will indeed die? It is only second-hand rumour, based on the uneasy and uncertain predictions of so-called physicians whose skills are, to say the least, suspect. If she does not die, but recovers her true state of mind, she will be as ruthless as ever in seeking retribution against the innocent Elizabeth. Mary can hardly be expected to accept that her own husband is the traitor in her midst and we have only escaped so far because she is so far bereft of her wits that those around her shrink from obeying her commands, in case she recovers and takes their heads in order to expiate her own guilt.’
‘Who is governing England in the meantime?’ Thomas asked.
‘God alone — or God knows,’ Cecil muttered, adding, ‘I will deny having said this, if challenged, but England will be better off if Mary does die. Now, those spires up ahead? Pray God that they belong to Northampton, where there is a half decent inn whose proprietor can be adequately bribed to say nothing, as I know from experience. If we can make an early start on the morrow, you may be home by nightfall.’
‘I hope that my mother remains alive,’ Thomas reflected quietly. ‘It’s been two years and more— will I be welcome, do you think?’
‘That may well depend upon how you behave,’ Cecil said. ‘I have kept my promise to her — now it is with some relief that I will be handing you back.’
Cecil’s estimate of their journey time proved accurate and the following day, just as the sun was finally disappearing behind the rim of hills to the west, a very weary party walked their horses at a slow pace through t
he gates of Knighton Manor. They heard voices from within the very modest manor house, one of them that of a woman who sounded to be commanding servants. Then from out of the front entrance walked a lady who Thomas recognised immediately despite the time that had elapsed since he had last been embraced by her, on his departure from Attenborough. She was smaller than he recalled and a little plumper around the middle, with what was once her lustrous fair hair tucked for ease under a tight-fitting bonnet. She appeared to be squinting through the gathering dusk at the party that was approaching and while they were still some yards away Cecil muttered a final warning to Thomas, almost under his breath.
‘Put you capacity for lies to good use, for once. Remember that not even your mother may know who Elizabeth is.’
As the distance between them became feet rather than yards, Kate Ashton waved uncertainly and called out, ‘Master Cecil? Is it you? Do you bring me news of my son?’
‘I do better than that, madam,’ Cecil said. ‘I bring him back in person.’
Kate’s eyes switched instantly to the young man beside him and squealed. ‘Thomas — can that really be you? You have grown into a man!’
‘Physically, perhaps,’ Cecil agreed as mother and son embraced once Thomas had hastily dismounted, ‘but he still lacks the full wits of a grown man. However, he can now manage an estate and I bring him back to you with some relief.’
‘Who are all these other people?’ Kate asked.
Thomas lived up to the trust placed in his infinite capacity for falsehood as he advised her, ‘The older of the two is the Lady Blanche Mowbray, on her journey north to become the Countess of Scarborough. The lady with her is her maid, Elizabeth. The escort is drawn from the lady’s estate near Oxford and we will be lodging for a short while at Bradgate, while the Lady Blanche prepares for her forthcoming nuptials.’
‘Bradgate is currently deserted,’ Kate told them, ‘but you are all more than welcome to reside here for as long as may be needed.’
