Elizabeth of Bohemia

by David Elias

  “Tell me, how does my brother?”

  “He is very ill.”

  “What remedies do they now apply? I saw a man just now making his way into the room with a pair of chickens. Do not say it has come to that.”

  “They have tried everything, Your Highness.”

  “Say not flayed pigeons to the feet.”

  Dr. Butler’s expression told me the answer.

  “So now they will shave his head.”

  Dr. Butler nodded.

  The image in my mind of my brother with all of his glorious locks shorn away terrified me, brought with it the prospect of suffering to come, of trials yet to be endured, of possible finality beyond contemplation.

  “What if I should give you something for Henry?”

  “Your Highness?”

  “Some medicine. And perhaps a letter.”

  “Dr. Mayerne will not allow it.”

  “You could administer it yourself.”

  “I am closely watched. As it is, the guards allow only Dr. Mayerne and his attendants to enter.”

  In the despair of that moment I hit upon a plan that might yet allow me to bring aid to my brother. They say the best ideas are born of crisis, though I can hardly characterize what followed as admirable. I’m not proud of what I did. Still, it was a small price to pay if it would save my brother’s life. Given all that was happening in my young life, I very much needed Henry to stay alive. If he was going to die he should have to wait for a more suitable time to do so. Even as the fog of my own misgivings closed in on me, I pushed it away and set about to make him well again.

  “What of Alfonso Ferrabosco?” I asked.

  “He comes and goes as he pleases.”

  “And is he allowed to be accompanied by an attendant or two?”

  “If he should deem it necessary.”

  “Very well. Thank you, good Doctor, I must take my leave.”

  And so I determined to render myself alone in one of the outer chambers with a man who made my flesh creep, if doing so would gain Captain Hume entry to my brother’s chambers. It was well known that Henry was fond of the Captain’s compositions and not unusual for musicians to play for the sick and dying, that it should bring them comfort. No one would think much of it. I had only thereafter to place into the Captain’s hands Sir Raleigh’s cordial and give him instruction for administering it.

  ***

  I arranged to meet Ferrabosco in one of the antechambers near to my brother’s room, making sure to be within earshot of assistance if I should deem it necessary.

  “Sir,” I began as soon as we were alone, “I understand you are appointed Groom-in-Extraordinary to my brother, the Prince of Wales.”

  “Indeed, the King has seen fit to confer that honour upon me.” A triumphant leer thinned his lips.

  “Then you may see fit to allow me entrance to my brother’s chamber.”

  “You know I cannot.” He seemed almost gleeful to give me his answer. “And more than this, I am expressly commanded by your father to see such a visitation does not take place.”

  “And what of another visitor?”

  “Madam?”

  “How be it if someone other than myself were to pay my brother a visit?”

  “And who might that be?”

  “Captain Hume.”

  Ferrabosco curled his lips in distaste. “Out of the question, I’m afraid.”

  “You understand it would only be to play a piece or two for my brother upon the viola da gamba.”

  “I could as well undertake such a task if it came to that.”

  “Of course, but you have other duties that must be seen to, and the Captain is eager to be of service.”

  “I’m sorry, I can’t permit it.”

  It was obvious that a somewhat more assertive approach would be needed.

  “Tell me, how is your new young wife . . . Ellen, is it? I have only met her briefly on one or two occasions at court, but I should think it easy enough for the two of us to become better acquainted.”

  Ferrabosco eyed me suspiciously. “I hardly see why you should wish to do so. What could it hope to come to?”

  “Why, friendship, of course, and intimacy. You favor intimacy, do you not, Sir?”

  “I should think she has little to offer your acquaintance, Madam.”

  “Ah, but what of the other way round? Perhaps she might like to learn more about your childhood, and how it was that you came to live in the household of Gomer van Awsterwyke while your father chose to take up residence in Italy.” Alfonso the Elder had abandoned his two illegitimate children and left them to the care of others. “That would surely be a subject of great interest, don’t you think?”

  All the blood drained from Ferrabosco’s face. He remained silent until at length the words spat forth: “I had not thought so refined a royal princess capable of such vulgar treachery.”

  I made sure to stay calm and detached. “You will do me this favour and that will be an end of it. Are we agreed?”

  Ferrabosco offered a scowling nod.

  “Very well, I shall send the Captain presently. And you will receive him, thereafter to allow him some privacy with my brother. Good day to you, Sir.”

  ***

  Having set the wheels in motion for my plan to be carried out, I sat down at the desk in my brother’s study to await the arrival of Captain Hume, whom I had sent for. I made use of the intervening time to compose a note for him take to my brother along with the vial of Sir Raleigh’s cordial.

  Dearest Henry,

  That I must pen these words rather than letting you hear them from my lips tears at my heart. I hope you can forgive me for not being there to take your hand in mine, place a gentle kiss upon your brow, offer such words of love and encouragement as I know you are in need of, but our father forbids it. I have pleaded with him to no avail. He insists there may be a miasma in the room and seeks to protect me from it, though I have made enquiries of the physicians and determined you have not the plague, so you may rest easy on that score.

  I have met with Dr. Mayerne and doubt he can be trusted. The treatments he offers are more like to make things worse as better. In particular you must refuse the doses of calomel he seeks to administer, as I have better medicine for you. I have procured some of Sir Raleigh’s cordial! As soon as you finish this letter, Captain Hume shall see that you get some. Do you remember how it restored our mother even when the physicians could do nothing? It is guaranteed to work against all but poison. Take it and refuse all the rest!

  I write this letter seated at the desk in your study, and it gives me comfort to do so. I have taken the trouble to place my seal upon this letter and urge you to do the same. If you have not the necessary means, I can send them with Captain Hume upon his next visit. I think it best we keep our correspondence private, as there may be those about who would be privy to it for less than noble purposes.

  Are they giving you proper food to eat? I should be there now spooning up a bowl of hot soup for you to enjoy. I swear if I am not soon admitted to your bedchamber I shall find other means to gain entry. Be prepared! I dreamt last evening that you and I were walking down a brightly lit hallway in an enormous palace. For some reason I was much older than you, though you seemed to be the same age as you are now. We strolled hand in hand, and the entire time you smiled over at me in the most beatific way. There was more to the dream, but I can’t seem to recall the rest of it. I think it was a good dream.

  I shall write more the next time Captain Hume visits, but now it is time for you to take your medicine. Know you are not abandoned, and that I am doing everything I can to see your health restored. If you can manage a reply, however brief, it will give me great ease.

  As ever I remain your loving and devoted sister,

  Elizabeth

  I folded the letter, picked up a stick of se
aling wax and held a candle to it, watched the molten wax fall in thick ochre drops onto the seam of paper until a small, glossy puddle had formed. I had made a point of bringing with me a few threads of silk floss, green and gold, which I always liked to use for decoration on my letters, and now I laid them over the hot wax before pressing my signet ring down into it. After a moment I lifted my hand away to inspect the seal, pleased with the results, then took up the special quill and ink I’d brought to write Henry’s name in gold lettering above the insignia before setting the letter aside.

  I was impatient for Captain Hume to arrive and got up from the desk to busy myself with a stroll around the room, inspecting the multitude of paintings and sculpture, books and drawings, collections of antique coins, medals, gems, various scientific instruments, models of ships — all the things Henry took an interest in, their number and variety a testament to his many pursuits. Wandering ponderously about, I picked up an item here, examined another there, thinking to see about a book he may have been reading or some artefact I might have the Captain take to him if possible.

  I stopped to run my fingers over the carved wood along the back of the familiar oak armchair where Henry liked to sit. How often I had found him here, reading some document or text, examining some apparatus. I imagined him seated here now, my hand on his shoulder, his face turned up to mine to greet me. I stepped around and allowed myself to settle down into the chair’s smooth comfort, enjoy the warmth of the fire nearby, stare into the hypnotic glow of the shimmering embers. Drawings were spread across the table next to the chair, and on top of them I spotted the diminutive bronze horse that had been Henry’s favourite since the day he acquired it. I reached out and ran the tip of one finger along the brocade mane of its elegantly curved neck and over the smooth metallic haunches. When I picked it up to examine it more closely, I was surprised how heavy it was for its small size. The sculptor had depicted the horse in mid-stride, one foreleg aloft, head perfectly poised. It had been gifted to him by the Medicis of Florence as part of a set. They were seeking an alliance at the time which would have seen Henry marry into the family. The wedding never materialized, and though my brother never said so, I suspect the little bronze horse represented those pleasures of the wider world he yearned to partake of. My father would not permit him to travel out of the country, saying always that he feared for his son’s safety, but I suspected the reasons lay elsewhere.

  I knew my brother would not allow himself to be controlled in that way for much longer and imagined the time should come soon enough when, free of his affliction, he would find his way to the continent. His friend John Harrington was always urging that the two of them should become travelling companions and would send Henry long letters from foreign lands, offering detailed accounts of his experiences. Once he even presented Henry with a diary of his adventures upon his return, and I had no doubt if I took the time to search I should find it upon one of the shelves in his study.

  I fingered the vial of Sir Raleigh’s potion in my pocket and made my way over to the window, held it up to the sunlight filtering in. The thick liquid shone a ruby-red, as of seasoned wine or fresh blood, and I closed my eyes, imagined its curative powers coursing through my brother’s veins, making him well again.

  I heard footfalls and turned to see Lady Anne enter. “Ah, here you are.” She crossed the room. “They told me I’d find you here. I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “I should have thought it was Count Schomberg’s company you were seeking out.”

  Lady Anne ignored this remark and pointed at the vial in my hand. “What have you there?”

  “Medicine for Henry. Sir Raleigh has made up a cordial for him.”

  “May I?” She put out her hand for the vial, and I gave it over carefully. She took it from me, made herself comfortable in a Wainscot next the window, took the cork from the bottle, and sniffed lightly.

  “Take pains not to spill any,” I said. “It’s not as though I can conjure up more.”

  “It has a pleasant bouquet that boasts a certain complexity, and not the bitter smell such medicines are prone to give off.”

  “It smells to me of health and restoration,” I said, “and I had even thought to taste it myself but that, for one drop less, my brother should fail to rally.”

  “And what of the ingredients?”

  “Too numerous to mention.”

  “And you say you got it from Sir Raleigh. You went to see him in the Tower? I don’t suppose you want to tell me how you managed to bring that about. I would have gone with you.”

  “It was easier to go alone.”

  “And no doubt more convenient.”

  “It is the same medicine that cured my mother, but for one or two ingredients.”

  “It has the same fragrance as that elixir. I remember the King, after it had made the Queen well again, making some demand for the recipe of Sir Raleigh, who refused to divulge it, and when your father asked him why, he reasoned that in the wrong hands it might be altered and used to less noble purposes.” She looked up at me, while I remained silent. “And now you have managed to procure some more of it.”

  I was thankful to hear more commotion in the hallway, and in a moment Count Schomberg walked into the room, followed by Captain Hume.

  “At last,” I said, “I thought you would never get here.”

  “I came as soon as I could,” said the Captain, whose appearance, as usual, left a great deal to be desired. And yet I found even this to be somehow reassuring. There was an honesty about his dishevelled attire, his scraggly beard and hair, his ungainly gait, that banished all pretense. The Captain allowed himself to be directed to a chair, and paused to hang his hat upon a corner of the carved wooden back before he lowered himself onto the embroidered cushion. “How may I be of service, Madam?” he asked.

  “I have a request to make of you that concerns my brother Henry.”

  “Now more than ever would I be of some use to him, and to you.”

  “Will you agree to attend his bedchamber, there to play for him upon the viola da gamba?”

  “I should be honoured, only the Prince of Wales is closely guarded. None but a few are allowed in, and I am not among them. Even you yourself, I’m told, have been rudely turned away.”

  “It is for that very reason I am in need of your assistance. Will you take some items to him for me?”

  “Madam, I am not permitted.”

  “You are now.” I forced myself not to look over at Lady Anne. “I have arranged for your admittance.”

  “Then I will do it. But are you certain?”

  “Alfonso Ferrabosco will personally see to it.”

  “But this is the very man who would as soon see me banished from the royal court altogether. How came this about?”

  “You need only know,” I could feel Lady Anne’s gaze upon me, “that it has been seen to.”

  “I see.” Captain Hume looked up at the others, then back at me. “We are fortunate, then.”

  “Take this to him.” I took out the cordial. “And see that he gets it without letting anyone know. He must take a spoonful at morning, another at noon, and then again at bedtime.” I handed him the vial. “And here is a note for him.”

  “I pray he is well enough to read it.” Count Schomberg looked at Lady Anne.

  “Why should you think otherwise?” I asked.

  “I hardly know.” Lady Anne coloured a little. “But if he is not, then you, Captain Hume, must read it to him.”

  “By all means, I promise to do so.”

  “See you keep everything secret,” I added, “especially from Dr. Mayerne. The physicians, indeed no one, can be trusted.”

  Captain Hume made to rise but I held him back. “I would have you observe closely my brother, mark you his mood, wakefulness, whether he sits up or lies prone, his hands, whether he gesture with them or they lie still.�
��

  “I’ll look to’t, Your Majesty.”

  “Mark his colour, also his breathing, whether he exhibit any restlessness, if there be yet strength in his voice or if it tremble and falter.”

  “Madam,” Lady Anne chided, “give the man leave, he is no physician.”

  “He can do as good or better than those that attend my brother now.”

  Captain Hume put up a hand. “Be assured I shall seek to gauge his fitness.”

  “Go, then. And upon your return seek me out here once again.”

  “I shall, Madam.”

  “One last thing.”

  “By Heaven,” Lady Anne complained to the Count, “the Prince shall expire before she is through.”

  I took up the small bronze statue from the table next to the armchair and placed it in the Captain’s hand. “Give him this also.”

  “I saw your brother with that in his hand at the play we attended,” the Count mentioned. “He fondled it as though it were most precious to him.”

  “What do you think he sees in it?” asked Lady Anne.

  “Who can say how the mind will linger over its subject? I look upon such as she,” the Count indicated Lady Anne, “and beauty assaults me without warning.”

  “And what of others when they do gaze at her?” asked Captain Hume.

  “I cannot speak for them.”

  “Do you mean to imply that others look and see not what you see?” the Captain teased.

  “I have already said too much.”

  “Let beauty be in the eye of the beholder.”

  “I know a playwright who said as much.”

  “Here, look.” I held up the small ornate box carved out of burled wood with a colour much the same as the horse. “I found the very box it came in.”

  “Prince Henry will be delighted, no doubt,” said the Count.

  I wrapped it up in a small cloth before placing it in the box. “His friend John Harington travelled there and wrote to him that in the Piazza della Signoria stood an enormous statue of the duke riding without helmet, a scroll in his hand, upon just such a horse.”