The Other Elizabeth: Royal Sagas: Tudors II

by Betty Younis

  The children’s lookout, ever alert for pirates abroad on England’s great river, had seen the queen’s retinue sailing past and had quickly incorporated them into their play. A contingent had been sent down to warn the household of an impending attack. So it was that the adults were waiting for Elizabeth on the steps of Coudenoure. As she stepped from her litter, all bowed, and she dismissed her servants and retainers, instructing them, as always, to wait at the end of the long drive they had just traversed. They were harried by bands of tiny warriors with wooden swords as they retreated down the way.

  Elizabeth wanted to walk. Cloaks and mitts were provided for her and Bess and they meandered through the winter scene to the monastic church ruins and the graveyard beyond. Elizabeth repeated her previous statement but with evident exasperation.

  “He had a simple mission, Bess. God’s wounds, as Lord Lieutenant all he had to do…”

  Bess interrupted.

  “Yes, but Majesty, the question is why did he not do as ordered.”

  Elizabeth snorted.

  “Because he is full of himself. That is why. He believes me to be so besotted by a mere subject of mine that he can fiddle and diddle with my commands as he pleases.”

  They walked on over the frosted ground.

  “Tell me, how does the matter lie now?” Bess asked.

  “Well, as if it were not enough that he squandered my money and resources and humiliated my kingdom, he has now come home against my explicit orders directing him otherwise.”

  “Explain, old friend, for I am not as conversant as you with matters of current statecraft.”

  Elizabeth sighed and repeated her earlier statement.

  “As Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, all he had to do was destroy the Earl of Tyrone, that vicious little man who would see my rule in Ireland brought to an end. Instead, he ignored my orders, did as he pleased, squandered my resources and came home. What was he expecting?”

  “My friend and queen, he sounds dangerous.”

  “Indeed. He would have my throne and I have known this for some time. He has the hubris and the ignorance of youth.”

  Bess asked the obvious question.

  “What is to be done?”

  Elizabeth paused before answering.

  “Currently, he is banished from court. He writes nonsensical letters pleading with me to let him return but I have grown tired of his tantrums. He remains, for the most part, at his London home, Essex House.”

  “Much of his income, I believe, is derived from your favor, is it not?” Bess asked sensibly.

  Elizabeth gave a satisfied nod.

  “Yes,” she said bluntly. “And I have grown tired of being used like a sow’s teat. He had the lucrative sweet wine tariff and I have recently refused to renew it in his name. He is caged and he knows it.”

  Bess walked in silence for a moment before giving a quiet and wary response.

  “Caged animals are very dangerous, Majesty.”

  “Indeed.”

  “You are taking away his income and his stature – be careful.”

  “Yes,” was Elizabeth’s only answer.

  They walked on.

  “Let us return to the manor house. I wish to see Henrietta – she is well?”

  “Well, good, bored, and altogether a handful. The woman is a force of nature and I know not how to tame her.”

  Elizabeth laughed with delight.

  “We should think of her marriage, my friend, for she is of that age.”

  Now it was Bess’ turn to snort.

  “And good luck, Majesty, in that quest. She refuses to marry before Anne, but I believe that is just a ruse – she intends to be ruled by no one.”

  “Ah, then we shall have to find a worthy suitor.”

  “Tell him to put on his armor when he arrives to court my daughter, Majesty, for he will need it against her intellect and independence.”

  They entered through the main doors and Bess ordered tea.

  *****

  No income, no access to Elizabeth upon which to trade. No standing. No money. But fury, and hubris enough for a thousand men.

  There would be no turning back now. Essex rebelled.

  *****

  Deep Winter 1601

  It began in the kitchen. Jane was about her late evening routine. Margaret was now too arthritic to run the kitchen or even provide much manual help, but she kept Jane company as she went about setting up for the next day’s meals. A young child – a stable man’s son – approached Margaret and warmed his small hands by the fire.

  “I could tell you a story for a sweet.” He continued warming his hands.

  “Oh, aye, could you now?” Margaret smiled at the brazen attempt to get a biscuit.

  The lad nodded and turned to her.

  “But you must give me the scone first.”

  Jane had been listening and in amusement handed a scone to Margaret. The child’s eyes grew bigger.

  “You shall have the scone when you tell your tale.” She spoke authoritatively and waved the bit of food under the youngster’s nose. He capitulated.

  “It is said that a great many men were seen just now passing upon the Thames. They had guns.”

  Margaret cocked her head and Jane stopped making her list.

  “How were they seen? ’Tis dark!”

  He shook his head vigorously.

  “We keep a watch at the signal house on the ridge.”

  “Who does? And what are you looking for?” asked Jane.

  The boy gave an exasperated sigh.

  “We trade the watch, old woman.” Margaret boxed his ears. He continued with the proper respect.

  “We keep a watch for pirates, of course. What else? We shall slay them as they come up river!” He backed away and gave a demonstration of his prowess with an imaginary sword.

  “You have not answered – how did you see these pirates?”

  “They were in well-lit craft and we saw them coming. We ran to the river and told them we would either join them or defeat them.”

  Jane and Margaret laughed in spite of themselves.

  “’Tis quite a range of options you presented to these pirates.”

  The boy nodded.

  “And where were these ruffians going?”

  “London.”

  “Why?”

  “To rid our kingdom of our nefarious queen. So they said.”

  The women sat up, suddenly alert.

  “Say again, boy, where were they going?”

  He repeated himself. Margaret spoke quickly.

  “And which direction were they going, young boy?”

  The child pointed as he spoke.

  “Towards London.”

  He realized he had the upper hand and reached for the scone. Margaret drew it back.

  “You may have an entire tray of scones if you tell me everything you know.”

  The boy sat down upon the stool she kicked out for him from the table.

  “They are going to London, for there is a great rebellion coming. But they would not take me, nor the others. They said we are too young.”

  Jane gave him a plate of food and told him to wait outside the door. Together, she and Margaret hurried into the library.

  As always, Bess and Quinn were there eating a small repast before retiring. Near the window sat Anne, working away on a translation by the light of two stout candles. Henrietta was not present. Attracted by the whispering of her parents and the others, Anne pushed back her chair and joined them.

  “Yes? What is going on?” She demanded.

  Henrietta entered the room, kissed her father and hugged her mother before helping herself to a blueberry-laced, sugary confection that Jane had invented and which lay untouched on her father’s plate.

  A deafening quiet was her only answer.

  “’Tis trouble? It must be, for all of you look as guilty as if you had been caught in the treacle barrel.”

  Henrietta paused and looked around her. Slowly she put down her swe
et.

  She eyed them all purposely. Finally, Jane told the tale.

  “But how can this be?” Quinn asked as Jane finished. “Who would do such a thing?”

  Bess stood and stoked the fire before turning to the others.

  “I know who.”

  She related what the queen had told her only weeks earlier. The fear in the room was palpable.

  “Essex.” The word hissed into the room from between Quinn’s clenched teeth. “That evil upstart.”

  “But can we be sure? Perhaps it is someone else who foments such a rebellion.”

  “No, ’tis him,” Bess said quietly. “I am certain.”

  Round and round the conversation went – who could it be, and why? An hour had passed by the time the young boy who had broken the news to Jane and Margaret appeared in the library door.

  “Beg pardon, beg pardon.” He bowed repeatedly. Suspecting something, Jane hurried to him.

  “What is it, lad? Do not be shy.”

  “There was a name. I remember it now.”

  They waited holding their breaths.

  “Essex. I heard the name Essex.”

  Jane directed him to the treats jar in the kitchen and he disappeared.

  Panic and fear began to overtake those left in the room. Finally, Bess spoke authoritatively.

  “We must warn her. And we must alert Robert Cecil.”

  “Tonight?” asked Anne incredulously.

  Again, a heated conversation ensued. Over and over again they repeated the facts to one another until all felt exhausted. They were merely babbling in the face of disaster. As if to give credence to that fear, the clock struck the Matins hour. It would be dawn soon.

  “We have squandered the time.” Henrietta rose. “I shall ride to warn the queen.” She turned to leave but not before Bess clutched her arm.

  “I shall go, child, for there is likely danger.”

  “No, my love, ’tis my work to warn her.” Quinn rose to leave.

  “Stop!” Henrietta’s voice rose to a pitch seldom heard at Coudenoure. “Only I know the quickest way to Whitehall, for I have been there many times with the queen.”

  She took a deep breath.

  “I shall warn her, and you must find someone who can get word to Robert Cecil. He must rally the country now.”

  She paused before continuing.

  “He is currently at Greenwich – I know this for one of the poachers from the village warned me to stay clear of the wood this fortnight.”

  Under other circumstances, Henrietta would have had to answer many questions about such knowledge and how it was gained, but not tonight.

  “Then I shall ride to Greenwich, niece, and you to London.” Anne spoke with confidence. “Papa, you and mother must stay here and fortify Coudenoure, for should the queen need shelter or men, she will rely on us.”

  As the women stepped out of the library, Henrietta hugged Anne.

  “We must hurry, for they have a dreadful start upon us.”

  On impulse, Anne ran quickly up the stairway to her mother’s room, returning in a flash. She carried an object in her hand. Henrietta raised an eyebrow as her sister put Bess’ favorite necklace around her Henrietta’s slender throat. The rubies on the cross were cold against her skin.

  “Mother says this is not a necklace, but a talisman against harm and evil. Wear it, niece, and you will be safe.”

  Henrietta laughed.

  “I have no need for such things. If you believe it has power, you should wear it.” She made to take it off but Anne stopped her.

  “I go to Greenwich, Henrietta, where there is no danger. You ride to London…” She left the sentence unfinished.

  They ran side by side to the stable. Each knew the fastest mounts and they ordered them saddled and readied. It was done in a matter of minutes and as they steadied the horses and prepared to ride, a loving glance passed between them.

  “’Tis some excitement for our evening, is it not?” laughed Henrietta.

  Anne laughed, too.

  “I think, dearest niece, that when this is over, you should truly consider the life of a pirate. I believe you have the makings of a fine one.”

  “Anne, ride safe.” Henrietta turned and took the back path off the estate. Once upon the main London road, she turned and with a prayer in her heart, rode hard for Whitehall.

  Anne too, turned, rounded the manor house and rode hard down the main drive. Her steed, Ajax, knew the way but was hesitant in the dark. It was difficult to force him to a gallop, and Anne wondered how she would get him to navigate the woods on the far side of the meadow beyond the ridge. She did not need to worry.

  As she rounded the final bend of the Thames which coincided with the estate’s ridgeline, she kicked the bay into a high gallop across the meadow. She had ridden that meadow a hundred times before, had played in it as a child, had picked flowers in it each spring. But she had never traversed it in such a panic in the dark. She forgot about the small rise which defined it near the queen’s own wood on the far side. She forgot that on the backside of that rise was a gully which Ajax would never ever navigate no matter the speed or gait at which it was approached.

  And he would not navigate it now. As Anne rode headlong and recklessly across the dark meadow, she forgot his dislike of the gully until it was too late. With a scream that no one heard, she was thrown from the now sweating beast onto the cold and frozen meadowland. Ajax snorted, and stood beside her as she lay motionless upon the wintry frozen ground.

  *****

  Dawn was breaking as the woods gave way first to simple houses and shops and then to more elaborate structures as she made her way into London proper. The streets were already busy, filled with merchants, wagons, beggars, servants – all determined it seemed to get a jump on the day’s activities. Vendors too poor to own shops set their wagons at right angles to the traffic of the road and displayed their wares from there. Some were organized – here was a market of fresh vegetables, there a market of textiles and raw wool, farther on the barrel fires of the smithies.

  Henrietta slowed her horse to a stately trot and turned towards the Thames. She would attempt to enter Whitehall from the river side. If she were not allowed through the gates, she would call for courtiers she knew who would speak to her right to go forward into the queen’s own palace. But the situation never developed.

  As she turned onto one of the city’s main, cobbled thoroughfares, her steed reared unexpectedly. Not twenty feet away a wall of angry men was advancing towards her. Their shouts were unmistakable.

  “The queen must go! We are ruled by a mere woman – the queen must go!”

  Their words became a menacing chant and Henrietta sat frozen, unsure of her next move. She had not anticipated meeting the rebels face to face and as her mount reared yet again, she lost her balance and fell from the saddle. A nearby urchin grabbed the reins and disappeared into the growing throng. As she stood and dusted herself off, she recognized the leader’s face. Fury grew in her heart and she stepped forward to confront Essex.

  “You! You malcontent! She has made you what you are and you repay her thus?”

  His only answer was a sneer and a shout.

  “The queen must go!” He looked directly at her, throwing the words in her face.

  Henrietta raised her hand to slap him but a great noise from behind her brought a pause. Essex, too, heard the commotion and looked up. They were being confronted by a contingent of Elizabeth’s guards and Essex knew that more would follow. He looked fleetingly at Henrietta and made to turn and flee but there was no time. More loyalists had appeared from a side alley. Essex, his men, and Henrietta were caught in a pincer movement as the queen’s troops tightened round them.

  “Henrietta!”

  Someone was shouting her name. She turned and scanned the crowd.

  “Henrietta! Quickly!” It was Quinn.

  Henrietta had no time to wonder about his sudden appearance. Without hesitation, and with a strength she had
never seen in him, he tossed aside rebels and guards alike, finally reaching out and grabbing her arm.

  “Come, child, quickly!” He was trying to pull her to safety when the blow fell across his skull.

  “Grandpapa! Grandpapa!!!” Henrietta’s screams were drowned out by the rising tide of chaos which enveloped the scene. She tried to reach down and protect his prostrate, still figure against the rampaging crowds but once again someone grabbed her arm.

  “So you would overthrow our sovereign, would you?” A guard with an ugly smear of a grin pinned her arms behind her roughly.

  “No, you nit! I have come to warn her! Release me!”

  The man laughed and passed her on to another who quickly tied her arms.

  “This one says she is here to warn our Majesty.”

  “Oh aye,” came the shout of a reply. “I shall let her cry her warning from the Tower.”

  She was thrown to the side with others who had been thus apprehended. Henrietta turned away in horror as the melee before her grew bloody. Without grace or warning, she was transferred to a heavily-armed barge. The oarsmen received an order and she knew, without being told, where they were taking her and the rebels, for there was only one place where traitors against the kingdom were lodged. Henrietta put her head down and tried not to panic, reminding herself again and again that she was here to warn Elizabeth of the very rebellion in which she had been caught up. She must convince the oarsmen that she was well-born, and should be released – clearly, she did not belong with riffraff that would presume to harm their sovereign queen. She lifted her head and looked at her fellow prisoners.