by David Elias
Scultetus had warned Frederick again and again that if he chose to accept the crown of Bohemia, the Protestant Union would not unanimously endorse him. Without the weight of that considerable influence, the Hapsburgs would use it as justification to bring the full force of their might against my husband. There were many who wanted a Protestant monarch to stand against the increasingly pervasive abuses of the Holy Roman Empire, but if the Elector did not back Frederick, the Hapsburgs would have all the reason they needed to characterize his coronation as an illicit uprising.
In the midst of all this turmoil I would be obliged to carry two more children to term and find myself pregnant with yet another even before we reached Prague. I would give birth first to a second son, Charles Louis, who thanks to my relentless efforts on his behalf would many years hence reign from Heidelberg, and who would show his ingratitude by banning me from the familiar comforts of the English Wing and the Hortus Palatinus.
Thereafter I would give birth to a daughter, Elisabeth, who more than any other is the child I should wish to make amends to . . . but leave that for later. Suffice it to say the better part of the next two decades would find me almost without exception engaged in the process of incubating progeny, pushing one squalling infant after another out of my robust womb, hardly recovered from the ravages of one gravidity before I was obliged to suffer the next, a pattern that continued unabated until very nearly my fortieth year. From shortly after my wedding to some twenty years thereafter, whether I was in Heidelberg or Prague or The Hague, my body would be obliged to withstand these repeated assaults. Thankfully I was blessed with a constitution that saw me through with surprising resilience, but it was surely the great absurdity of my life that so much effort should issue forth naught but ungrateful children. Even upon the day of my coronation I would be forced to dress in a gown that accommodated my grossly swollen belly, and close upon the celebrations would follow the grunts and indignities of yet another inconvenient childbirth.
In the lead-up to our departure for Prague there were any number of state balls and receptions, and it was at one such that a most unwelcome visitor appeared among the guests. Alfonso Ferrabosco claimed to have been invited to come to Heidelberg by a member of the court, but no one seemed eager to acknowledge as much. He managed to insinuate himself into the occasion, and after dinner announced before the assembled lords and ladies that he had news of Sir Walter Raleigh.
“I myself hardly knew the man,” he let his eyes travel in my direction, “though there are no doubt those among you who were very fond of him.”
Rumours had reached the castle from time to time, but it was hard to distinguish truth from gossip. People came from London and scurried about, whispering all manner of intrigues, but I held little stock in any of it. I was preparing to excuse myself from the evening’s chatter when Ferrabosco spoke up loudly that he could vouchsafe the events he was about to relate, as he had been there to witness them in person.
“On the day before All Hallows’ Eve,” he began, “I was among those in the gallery at the Palace of Westminster when he was brought from the Tower to answer to the charge of treason.”
There was a general murmuring among the crowd, which thereafter fell into attentive silence.
“I can tell you that he dressed for the part, as always, and this occasion found him decked out in his best doublet and hose. A number of the ladies remarked upon his finery as he was led past them and set before the King’s Bench Bar, at which it was demanded by the Master Attorney General why the sentence should not be carried out. Thereafter the Lord Chief Justice commanded the Sheriff of Middlesex to take the prisoner into his custody for that purpose.
“Sir Raleigh was removed to the Gatehouse and I took myself back to Whitehall, there to enjoy a good night’s sleep and rise on the morrow to return for the execution. I made my way to the Palace Yard at Westminster next morning, and there to my astonishment stood a large scaffolding where none had been the night before. It stood in the very place where some years before those gruesome punishments had been carried out upon Guy Fawkes and his co-conspirators. Your Highness may remember,” he turned to me, “for your father the King gave you to bear witness, did he not?”
I made to answer, speak to his offence and dismiss him from my presence, but a stubborn paralysis overtook me that rendered me unable to react, and I could only sit in stupefied silence as he went on with his story. I was nine years old again, thrown instantly back to the horror of that scene, watching as a man wide-eyed with terror grimaced and writhed while being gutted like a fish. But it was not only this that froze me. The man Ferrabosco seemed to employ some unknown force that held me in submission. I have suffered, from time to time, that a man should wield power over me for no good reason I can fathom. It makes me out to be a willing victim, when in truth I would fight.
“Now they brought Sir Raleigh forth,” Ferrabosco continued, “looking even more resplendent than before, having undertaken a complete change of wardrobe, which included a very fine pair of shoes indeed.” He paused to muse for a moment. “I wonder what happened to them? It was a pleasant sunny morning and a very large crowd had gathered to witness the proceedings. It seems we in London have developed rather a taste for these occasions of late, as they are happening with more and more frequency. Sir Raleigh saluted the lords and ladies present in a most amiable fashion, after which the crowd fell strangely silent as he was made to remove his ruffed collar for the sake of better exposing his neck to the axe. Beg pardon, ladies, but these are the facts. Now he made to address the assembled crowd, but I shall not bore you with the details, as there was little in it of merit beyond the usual sort of thing: ‘I would beseech those present . . .’ and ‘I am thankful for . . .’; something about God to be sure; though at the last his voice trailed off and some drew nearer to the scaffolding the better to hear his muted utterances. For my part I kept a safe distance” — and here Ferrabosco allowed a hideous grin — “as I knew from experience there should be blood spattering about when the axe fell, and I had chosen to wear a new doublet that morning.”
I wanted to leap from my seat and slap him across the face as hard as I could, take his dagger from its scabbard and sink it into his chest, but I sat motionless.
“When he had finished he was obliged to remove his hat, which he did in a most regal fashion and offered to a bystander, who eagerly accepted it; next such monies as he had in’s pocket; thereafter his doublet and gown; and at this point exercised a most unusual privilege and beckoned the axe man nearer. The executioner hardly knew how to proceed, never having suffered such a request before, but Raleigh urged him again to come forth, at which he did so, and here the prisoner reached out that he would examine the instrument that was to do the deed. The dumbfounded executioner obeyed and held the axe out for inspection while Sir Raleigh ran his thumb along the length of the edge as if to gauge the sharpness of the blade!”
Some of the ladies had by now taken to leaning on their gentlemen as though to keep from fainting, but Ferrabosco carried on nevertheless.
“Having concluded that the axe was up to the task, Sir Raleigh made some clever remark as to its usefulness as a cure for all diseases. Then somewhat of a prayer, I think, after which the executioner knelt before him to ask his forgiveness, which Sir Raleigh, with a hand upon the axe-man’s shoulder, granted. Next he was offered a blindfold, which he refused, before being made to kneel and place his head upon the blackened block, stained with the dried blood of its last victim. Deathly quiet it was now and the executioner, axe raised above his head, seemed to have become as a statue, unable to bring it down until Sir Raleigh was heard to shout, ‘Strike, man, strike!’ and even at that the executioner faltered before he made to do the deed with a distinctive lack of vigour. He had been better to give it the full force of his considerable strength, as the first blow from the axe did not succeed in severing the head completely. The executioner pulled the axe out of Sir Raleigh�
�s neck, which had now a frightful gash more than halfway through, and it must be said that to the prisoner’s credit he kept his position as he waited for the second strike and moved no more than an inch or two in the interim. Do you not think it admirable?”
I had no doubt Ferrabosco must be addressing me as he posed this question, but I kept my head turned away and would not look at him.
“What if he had thought to stand up after the first and there should have been his head, flopped over to one side so that perhaps he had to prop it up?”
A few of the gentlemen made to laugh at this jest but there was no bravery in it.
“In any case he stayed exactly where he was as the axe was raised once again and a second blow struck into the very same wound created by the first, at which the severed head fell with a thud to the wooden scaffolding and rolled off to one side. The executioner, axe dripping blood, stooped down to pick it up and held it up for the crowd to inspect as he was required to do before carrying it down the crudely constructed stairs, where Sir Raleigh’s dutiful wife — I believe her name is the same as yours, Highness — stood stoically waiting. She held open a red leather bag for the axe man to drop the head into and made her way through the crowd to a waiting carriage.”
“Now what do you think she was going to do with it?” asked one of the gentlemen.
“I have learned since she intends to have it embalmed and carry it with her always.”
“I cannot think for what purpose.”
“Perhaps as a reminder to all who pass.”
I threw myself up from the chair and made straight for Ferrabosco, eager to spit in his face, but even as I approached he proffered a derisive smile and reached into his breast pocket.
“Your Highness.” He held a letter out to me. “This letter is from Sir Raleigh. He insisted I deliver it to you in person, and I am bound to do so. Will you have it?”
I snatched it from him, looked down to see the handwriting was plainly Sir Raleigh’s.
“Get out.”
“Beg pardon, Highness, but is this the thanks I get?”
“I should have you clapped in irons.”
“How is it I offend?”
“That you stand yet before me. Show me your back and never seek to come again into my presence.”
I took myself at once to my privy chamber and tore open the letter.
October 18, 1618
To the fair Elizabeth,
I trust this final correspondence shall find its way to you. I have used the last of my money to see to it, though your father may yet find the means to waylay it as he has so many others. As you may know, he released me from the Tower after you left for Heidelberg, but freedom was not truly mine to enjoy. Whatever stories you may have heard, you shall now learn the true account.
Your father freed me on the condition that I set sail once again for the New World, which I agreed to do, but alas we suffered an encounter with the Spanish that cost my dear son Walter his life, and I was left with no choice but to return to England empty-handed. Upon my arrival in London the Spanish ambassador accused me of attempted piracy and demanded satisfaction, at which your father capitulated and ordered my arrest. I made hasty arrangements to escape to France, but even as the oarsmen rowed me out to the ship anchored nearby, a conviction overtook me and I insisted against their urgings that we return to shore. For some reason I was convinced that if only I might be allowed to explain things to the King, he should vouchsafe my honour. As it turned out I could not have been more wrong, for not only did your father elect instead to send me back to the Tower, but now he has agreed to set the date for my execution.
Needless to say the time is short and so to the crux of the matter. I would confess something to you. Do you remember the last occasion you had to come to the Tower and visit me? I think about it still. The restraint we showed honoured us both, and yet, how often I have tortured myself wondering whether the greater sin might have been that we failed to act. It should have been a fiercely righteous act of love we made, and I hardly see now how it could have been wrong. It was that same conviction which prevented me boarding the ship to safety which kept me from sweeping you into my arms that day: that I have ever sought to do the honourable thing. And look what it has cost me! First my heart and now my head, I fear.
There’s something else I’ve wanted to tell you. You may be interested to learn your father’s true purpose for sending me to the New World in the first place, which has ever been shrouded in secrecy but shall now be revealed. After all, what more do I have to lose? The goal as stated publicly was that I should go in search of gold, but in fact the ends were far more sinister. Your father expressly instructed me to procure by any and all means those potent and hitherto unknown poisons rumoured to be found there, and bring them to him. As to his reasons for wanting to acquire such, I was forbidden from enquiry, but I thought it was something you should know.
The hour of my execution approaches and I must prepare. My wife has spoken for my head and vows to carry it with all her life in a velvet sack she has already purchased for that purpose, but know this: you shall carry my heart. Do you know that just by looking into my eyes you could set my loins to shivering? It is true! Indeed naught but a soft cascade of words upon your tongue could accomplish as much. How often I have imagined you whispering close in my ear, telling me what you want me to do. Though they separate my head from my body, it shall not divide me from my passion, which belongs to you and always shall. Farewell.
Yours ever in sweetest desire,
Raleigh
And so was lost to me yet another of those who had never truly been mine. What had I done to deserve such punishment? Was there no brother or sister, cousin or friend, lover or confidant I might be allowed to keep? It seemed all such belonged not to me but to death. If I suspected things might turn out much the same in Prague, I was undaunted, and eager as ever to plunge ahead. The prospect of rushing headlong into a ruin of my own making didn’t dishearten me. Much as Sir Raleigh had expressed in his letter, what was there left to lose? Whatever lay ahead could be no worse than what had already come to pass. If I was fated to fail then best proceed.
Part Three
Chapter Twelve
The journey to Prague was uneventful and we had managed to settle into our opulent apartments within the walls of the palace quite comfortably as the day of Frederick’s investiture approached. The castle sat high upon a hill overlooking the town below, much as in Heidelberg, but here it was the Vltava River that flowed past and not the Neckar. The place seemed a formidable fortress and I found it reassuring that we should find ourselves in a place so well defended. The assembly of my bed had been accomplished, and I had taken pains to see to the installation of several Johns, just as I had in Heidelberg. Those were the two things I simply would not do without.
I’d become accustomed during my time at Coombe Abbey to a convenience not even the royal palaces of London could lay claim to. While the rest of my royal family was condemned to make use of a close stool attended by a groom, in the Harrington household I had no need for such. I had at my disposal a privy the like of which could be found in only a handful of chambers anywhere, an invention of Lord Harrington’s cousin John, who referred to it as “the Ajax.” I never cared for that name and took to calling it “the John” instead, after the Christian name of its inventor. He had installed a number of them in the house, including one for my exclusive use. Here is what made it so delightful: no sooner had you finished with your rather nasty business than you pulled upon a velvet cord, and what do you think happened? A torrent of water stored up in a tank affixed to the wall flooded into the basin with sufficient force to flush it all away and send it down a set of pipes to a cistern far below. Magic!
I was certain the invention should make John Harrington a rich man, and was as baffled as he when it failed to catch on. People seemed intent to go right on using a chamber pot or clos
et stool as they always had. I suggested he write a book about his device to generate more interest, which he did, but that proved to be disastrous as well. As consolation I arranged for him to become tutor to me, as well as t0 my brother Henry. It was also my intention that after my marriage to Frederick he would accompany us to Heidelberg and oversee the installation of several privies in the English Wing there. But how tragedy ever nipped and barked at my feet even from the very day of my brother’s passing! Only a few days after Henry’s funeral, John fell ill and died within the week. Lord Harrington made the journey in his son’s stead and saw to the work. Upon its completion I granted him leave to return to England, but no sooner did he depart than he too fell ill, and died on the journey home.
But now we were making a new beginning in Prague, where I was obliged to a meet a host of lords and ladies, most of whom spoke hardly a word of English, and with whom I could exchange little more than awkward greetings. I had been through as much before on many occasions in Heidelberg, but always with Lady Anne Dudley by my side, and now I missed her terribly. Amalia, the lady-in-waiting employed in her stead, was efficient enough in her duties but in these situations offered little in the way of counsel or comfort. For my part it should have been insincere to solicit these things from her, for we were not kindred spirits in that way and never would be. As much as Lady Anne had served as something of a mother to me, so Amalia might have done for a sister, but as it was we were quite formal with each other and both of us content to let it be so. There never had been more than a handful of people in my life that I admitted into private confidence, and if I wanted to continue keeping people at a distance then Amalia was the perfect fit.
