by David Elias
My father in his arrogance sought to bring his plans into effect by proceeding as if everything had already been agreed to, all the decisions made, as though I had no say in the matter. Infuriating!
“It promises to be quite magnificent,” offered Mr. Jones. “See here, where I have drawn up a spacious balcony off the banqueting hall that promises to allow for a spectacular view of the town below. Your Highness shall have the best vantage point in all of Heidelberg.”
“Whatever the plans may be, they carry in them nothing from my part of either consent or consultation.”
“Nothing like it has ever been seen in Heidelberg, I dare say.” My father acted as though he had not heard a word of my protestations. “No expense shall be spared.”
“Including such a handsome salary, no doubt” — I glared at Mr. Jones — “as shall be paid for services here rendered.”
“Your father is a man of vision, and as such may not be ruled by matters of vulgar finance.”
“Nor by such as a daughter who would have her inclinations acknowledged. I would wish a moment of my father’s time, if you please, Sir?”
Mr. Jones looked at my father. “Will His Majesty see fit to excuse me?”
“Very well.” My father waved him off. “Do but stand by, for we have more to discuss.”
“By all means, I will remove myself only as far as the next room, where I shall be taking a pipe of tobacco.”
My father wrinkled his nose. “If you must do so, then go rather out into the courtyard, where the smoke may not so much foul the air.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
“It is a filthy habit.” My father turned back to me. “And to think we have Sir Raleigh to thank for it.”
Upon his return from one of his voyages the New World, to set up a colony in Virginia, Sir Raleigh brought back with him a group of colonists who had taken up smoking tobacco. They brought with them a generous supply, which they shared freely. It wasn’t long before the habit caught on at court, much to my father’s annoyance.
“I suppose you would have him kept in the Tower so much the longer for it.”
“He shall remain there for exactly as long as I deem necessary. It is a simple matter of rex regis per divinus vox.”
“Of course, the divine right of kings.” I did not try to hide my sarcasm.
“And as I am that king, the rest is a simple matter.”
“Even a king might find it fitting to cultivate some semblance of humility.”
“Such a trait sits unseemly on one who rules.”
“And yet how it sits upon your eldest son most admirably.” I saw his features cloud over. “You have probably guessed it is Henry I have come about,” I continued. “I went to see him this morning at St. James’s and was rudely barred from entry to his bedchamber.”
“I’m relieved to hear it.”
“Relieved? I would be relieved of your high-handed officiousness, your unfeeling callousness. I do but wish to comfort my brother and should not be denied.”
“The reason is simple. There may be a miasma in the room which, if you should enter, may afflict your person with the same malady.”
“Then I’ll wear a beak and goggles, though Dr. Mayerne does not. And what made you decide to appoint him to my brother’s care? He is insufferable, not to mention incompetent.”
“He has a reputation that precedes him.”
“He does indeed, though not such a one as you make reference to. And Alfonso Ferrabosco is now appointed groom to my brother’s bedchamber? What can you be thinking? He is worse than this . . . this worm who awaits yonder at your beck and call. They have all of them but one gambit, and that is to feed at the trough of courtly extravagance.”
“Condemnant quod non intellegunt.”
“And I will answer, quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur. Whatever is said in Latin seems profound.”
“These matters need not concern you.”
“I want to see my brother.” I took a step toward him. “I demand it.”
“I’ll not lose my only daughter.” He stood facing me, hands on his hips.
“And yet you are eager enough to forfeit her to Bohemia.”
“This impertinence tests our indulgence.”
“Temper your impatience awhile.” I raised a hand tentatively. “And I’ll do the same with my disdain.”
“These are the churlish reprimands of a child.”
“And yet you would have me married off as a woman.”
“Your mother married when she was two years your junior.”
“And look how well she turned out. She has a child’s mind in a woman’s body. Indeed ’tis the body brings the bargain if I understand your logic. You would seek to vouchsafe my health and avoid any risk to the bartered goods.”
“The Palatine will have you for his wife.” My father pointed a finger at the floor.
“The Palatine can go hang.” I turned away defeated, then back again to face him once more. “Why am I not permitted to see my brother?”
“Now then, we will have an end to this.” There was an edge to his voice that was all too familiar, which meant anything I might say at this point would only strengthen his maddening resolve, fortify his obstinate and self-righteous intransigence.
“Yes, by all means, you must be allowed to get back to your precious drawings. Mr. Jones awaits. But be assured the matter is not put to rest.”
“Good day to you, daughter.”
The silence that fell between us in that moment was deeper and more troubling than any that had come before. It bore witness to those last remnants of my privileged naivety, now forever vanquished. I turned to hasten from the room.
“And good day to you, Sir.” I shivered, turned to look back over my shoulder. “But shall I call you Father?”
And upon that uttering, I tell you, my father became a ghost to me, as he remained ever after.
Chapter Five
I despaired of being admitted to my brother’s bedside that I might minister to him myself, provide some modicum of comfort if nothing else, for I had witnessed such remedy effect a cure where all else failed, but then something quite unexpected happened that gave me hope. It came about as a result of my father’s insistence, his eldest son’s illness notwithstanding, that the regaling of the visiting Palatine should carry on unabated. He had arranged for an evening of musical recitals at which Prince Frederick should be the guest of honour, and insisted upon my presence. I was in no mood, but being pressured on all sides, not the least by Lady Anne Dudley, and remembering the pleas of my brother’s letter, gave consent to do so.
By my guess Lady Anne’s urgings had less to do with an interest in music, or any desire to obey protocol, than with the prospect of Count Schomberg’s company. Whenever she spoke of him an animation came over her that was unmistakable. To think that even my Maid of Honour’s trusted advice should now be compromised by her own interests!
The evening passed uneventfully, and though I was seated next to Prince Frederick, we spoke little. I was content to let him devote his attentions to the various musicians until, thinking the proceedings ended and making ready to take his leave, he was as surprised as the audience when I held him back.
“I have arranged for one final performance,” I announced, “if you will indulge me.”
“By all means, Madam, let’s hear another.” The Palatine sat back down in his chair.
“It is not one chosen by the King” — I glanced up at my father, dared him to intervene — “but rather a favourite of his eldest son.”
“Would Prince Henry was here tonight with us and not confined to his sickbed,” said the Palatine. “I shall think of him when I listen to this music.”
At that I signalled to the attendant and Captain Hume made his way onto the stage, followed by a page carrying his beaten and tattere
d viola da gamba, which he leaned against a chair next to the fireplace. The Captain made his bows, sat down to take up his instrument, and set it firmly between his knees.
“It is that same fellow we encountered at the Queen’s masque the other night?” observed Count Schomberg.
“Indeed,” Lady Anne remarked. “And no less shoddy in appearance.”
“The same could be said for his instrument,” offered the Count.
“Sir?”
“His viola da gamba,” Count Schomberg explained. “It looks to be in dire need of some refurbishing.”
“Much like the man himself,” added Lady Anne.
The page now set the sheet music on the stand before Captain Hume, at which he took great pains to arrange it.
“You should like him well enough if it came time to defend your honour,” I said.
“Be assured I have no need of such.”
“I should be in a better position to defend it,” the Count boasted eagerly, “than that scruffy musician.”
“It may be of interest to you, Count,” I said, “that when the Captain is not composing music to play upon his viola da gamba, he serves upon the battlefield.”
“You mean as a player for the men.”
“As a soldier in his own right.” Lady Anne’s firm response surprised me.
“One with a reputation,” the Palatine added. “Apparently he can acquit himself with a sword as well as with a bow.”
“Musician and soldier, you say?” The Count sounded sceptical. “It is rare to find in one personage two such ambitions.”
“I dare say he has yet ambitions to more than that.” I glanced at Lady Anne.
“That same viola da gamba you see there,” said the Palatine, “Prince Henry tells me that his young page totes it along for the Captain wherever he goes, that he might compose music in the comfort of his tent after a day in armour upon the battlefield.”
“It seems unsuited to a man,” said the Count, “that he should seek to be both artist and warrior.”
“How so?” asked the Palatine.
“The battlefield will make a different kind of man out of you,” said the Count.
“You do not say if’t be for better or for worse,” I said. “Which would you venture, Lady Anne?”
“Neither. A man is still a man and nothing more.”
Now the King spoke up. “What are we to hear?” He was surrounded by the usual entourage of popinjays, young men who strutted about in every manner of ridiculous, if fashionable, attire. They were, to a man, sycophants of the worst kind. The only one who despised them more than I did was my brother Henry.
“A new composition, Your Majesty,” replied Captain Hume. “I trust it shall be to your liking.”
“The King cares not for his compositions,” Lady Anne whispered to Count Schomberg.
“And yet you shall hear such playing as never fails to give his son much enjoyment,” I said.
Now Captain Hume took up the bow and adjusted the tension with great care and prepared to play.
“We would know the name of this piece, Sir,” I said loudly. The Captain had a habit of bequeathing upon his compositions unlikely and often suggestive titles which lesser composers liked to ridicule.
“Beg pardon, Madam. We have entitled it, ‘My Mistress Hath a Pretty Thing,’” he answered.
“There’s a bawdy reference,” huffed Count Schomberg.
Now the Captain began to play, and no sooner had he started than he fell into those eccentric mannerisms that always proved to be such a distraction to the audience. Not once during his playing did he bother to consult the tablature before him, but rather with eyes now cast down, now turned up at the ceiling, set his body to writhing in the worst kind of way, as an actor might, having been slain upon the rough boards of the Globe. His body seemed under torture, as though he were engaged in some great inner turmoil. And yet, such glorious and melancholy notes flowed from his instrument that the audience became entirely silent and attentive. When he had finished he sat for some time, shoulders stooped, head down, seemingly exhausted, before lifting his head to acknowledge the polite applause.
The Palatine eagerly beckoned the Captain over. “Tell me, Mr. Hume.”
“Captain Hume, if’t please Your Highness.”
“By all means — Captain Hume, then. I’m curious, Sir, how is it you came to be not only a musician but a soldier as well?”
“By that same manner as do other men, namely by the taking up of arms and donning of a uniform.”
“I see.” The Palatine seemed not the least put off at this sardonic reply. “And have you campaigned of late?”
“I was most recently in Sweden, where I fought under King Gustavus Adolphus.”
“Tell me, Captain,” Count Schomberg enquired, “which do you prefer upon the battlefield, the sword or the bow?”
“I should think a worthy soldier would be master of both,” allowed the Palatine.
“As an unworthy one should be of neither,” the Count replied.
“I am content to be formidable at both,” said Captain Hume.
“See how the man steeps himself as ever in deepest humility,” Lady Anne scoffed.
“Well, I for one think it admirable you should have proficiency in both,” said the Palatine, “and commend you for it.”
“I pray Madam found the performance to her liking?” Captain Hume looked affectionately at Lady Anne.
“Measure for measure,” she answered.
“And better in between.” The Palatine seemed quite taken with Captain Hume. “For you, Sir, are a veritable master of division, if I am any judge.”
“Division is all fine and good.” I turned to Lady Anne. “But there must be passion as well.”
“Just so,” said the Palatine. “Passion and division, each in their portion.”
“And you, Madam?” Captain Hume enquired further of Lady Anne. “Did you think I played with insufficient passion?”
“Just the opposite,” she replied haughtily. “If I were your instrument, I should faint from excess of it.”
“You would have me play you, then?” teased Captain Hume.
“Hmph. That’s bold,” muttered Count Schomberg.
“As one might play at cards, he perhaps means,” said the Palatine.
“I think he meant the viola da gamba,” said Lady Anne.
“Well, then that could be only one way,” pronounced Captain Hume.
“And what way is that?” asked the Count.
“Why, between the legs, of course,” the Captain answered. At this the Count drew back, eyes wide, then made to step toward the Captain, but the Palatine put a hand on his shoulder. For my part I could not disguise my amusement at seeing Lady Anne blush so deeply.
“I have hardly seen such a rising of his cheek,” I offered.
“More than cheek such rising would arouse, it would appear,” said the Palatine, and we each of us let out a little laugh.
“I had not thought the English court so ribald,” said the Count, still fuming.
I felt a sudden pang of guilt, realized that in spite of my best intentions I had been at sport with this prince, the enjoyment of whose company I had sworn to disavow, and that I could not despise him altogether. Yet though he seemed a decent and amiable fellow I knew already I could never love him, that much was certain. And yet here I was, about the business of contenting myself with companionship and civility, ready to barter an uncertain future for one I might tolerate.
It only occurred to me later that I may have acted out of fear, that perhaps beneath my self-reproach lurked a deeper misgiving I hardly dared acknowledge. I knew full well what my father was capable of. Ominous and threatening possibilities hovered over me, gave birth to thoughts dark and foreboding, and subverted my conviction. And buried deep beneath all of t
hat was something even worse. What if by some design the King had a hand in his son’s infirmity, and what if he should see fit to set those same designs upon his only daughter?
My father now saw fit to call the Palatine over, at which Count Schomberg went to accompany him, and it was then Captain Hume took me aside and slipped a note into my hand.
Written this day of October 25, 1612
To be delivered into the hands of Princess Elizabeth Stuart
Your Highness,
The news has reached me that your brother is gravely ill. I thought to have heard from him myself by now but there has been no word, and any correspondence I send goes unanswered. I cannot help but wonder whether by some means my letters fail to reach him at all. My contacts are increasingly limited here in the Tower, and those clandestine visits such as you and your mother on rare occasion paid here are no longer advisable. I still remember those last few times you were permitted to accompany her. How thoroughly enchanting it was to see you becoming such a striking young lady right before my eyes. It hardly seems possible that upon the next occasion you should have grown yet more exquisite.
I have placed this correspondence into the hands of Captain Hume who, upon what authority I hardly know, saw fit to hump his viola da gamba up the stairs of the Tower and play for me yester night. I think he can be trusted as well as anyone to see that it reaches you, and that your reply finds me in return, and so let me come to the matter at hand.
Do you remember some years ago when your mother fell ill and the doctors could find no remedy for her? I prepared a cordial for her which, if you recall, brought about her complete and miraculous recovery! I would see some of this same confection administered to your brother. The good Captain has procured the ingredients for me and would see it brought to you. Will you allow me to do this for Henry?
With admiration for your charmed personage, I remain, as ever, your faithful servant,
Sir Walter Raleigh
This correspondence sparked in me an idea that should not only restore my brother’s health but offered a chance to be alone with Sir Raleigh in the bargain. I should make my way to the Tower of London, notwithstanding that commoners and royalty alike were forbidden entry, save for special permission granted by the King himself. Unbeknownst to my father, I knew of a means to gain access, and I had my mother to thank for it, though she would hardly have approved of me going alone. She had been for some time paying regular visits Sir Raleigh in secret and on some occasions even saw fit to let me accompany her. To what end I know not to this day. I remembered it as the most delicious kind of daring, and the only real secret the two of us ever shared. But then she stopped going, or at any rate insisted that she had, and now I was determined to carry out the venture on my own.
