The most dangerous enemy, p.43
The Most Dangerous Enemy, page 43
part #3 of The Elizabeth of England Chronicles Series
Despite, or perhaps because of the weighty cares upon my shoulders, Robin and I were out riding most days. It was something that I insisted upon with St Loe and Cecil. I could have a guard of as many as they liked to ride behind us, but I was not going to be limited in every way. I needed my time in the wild. I needed some time to feel free, lifted of the pressures upon me.
It was a chilly early afternoon in March, when Rob and I had stopped to break our fast after riding for most of the morning. The wind was bitter and sharp, so our many guards built a fire at the edge of the woods where we could shelter under the trees, and brought rugs from their packs to make seats on fallen tree trunks. They warmed wine at the fire, toasted bread and smothered it in yellow butter and new, soft white cheese made of tangy, earthy sheep’s milk. Slabs of beef, venison and lengths of wild leeks, roasted on the fire, filled our hungry bellies. Here and there in the dark earth bright yellow heads of celandines peeped out, winking at me in the watery sunshine. I put my plate to the ground and smiled contentedly at Rob as he finished helping after helping of food.
“You’ll eat yourself to death like that, Rob,” I smirked at him, and then frowned. “Soon enough the spread comes to the man and his appetite becomes too big for his body to bear.”
Rob looked ruefully at his slightly swollen belly. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, to be fair. “Then I shall put down my knife for love of Your Majesty,” he said, still looking hungrily at the steaks sizzling over the fire.
“You can’t still be hungry!” I exclaimed. “You have eaten more than all my guards put together!”
Rob and the guards around us chortled. I felt the heat of the fire warm my cheeks even as my cup of spiced wine warmed my blood. It did me good to ride out on days like today, to have such a welcome and informal feast in the wild. To feel free. I did not feel so in the palace.
Rob smiled at me. “I always hunger for more,” he nodded. “It is in the nature of a man to always want more.”
“Something that is understood with heavy hearts by all women…” I retorted. “They understand that their own husbands will never be satisfied with what they have!”
“Well, as to that, it entirely depends on the woman,” Robin stared at the fire with those dark eyes. He turned to me. “If a man had the right woman at his side, then he would never need to look anywhere else to satisfy his hunger.”
I felt my cheeks warm, more from his words than from the fire, and looked around at the guards. Some were cleaning the plates, taking them to be washed in a nearby stream and others were preparing to wager on a game of dice a little way away from us. They did not appear to be listening.
“Elizabeth…” whispered Rob, also looking at the guards. “I have something that I would ask you.”
I sipped at my wine and stared at the fire. Its cherry red flames and liquid gold centre seemed to steal my eyes from all else; it was hypnotic. “What is it?” I asked softly, my eyes lulled into the dance of the fire.
“I am thinking of pressing Amy for a divorce… or an annulment of our marriage.” His words came quickly, falling over each other in their rush to escape. “I wanted to know your thoughts on the matter.”
I felt more heat flow into my cheeks, my eyes tore themselves from the fire and I stared at him. “You do this for hope of marrying me, Rob?” I asked in a whisper.
“I will not deny that as one reason,” nodded Robin. “You know that I love you. You are all that I think of and all that I want. You are my Elizabeth. I have known that we should be together since we were children, but the possibility of anything between us was so remote that it was only a dream. But when I found that you perhaps felt the same as I did, then I dared to hope.”
“Marriage is a sacred institution, not to be laid aside or entered into without thought.” My voice wavered, half in excitement and half in fear. Would I marry him if he were free? Would I be brave enough to make that choice finally? My head was awash with many questions and few answers. But my heart had a ready response…. Yes! Yes to all that he said and the rest of the world be damned!
I did not give voice to the shouting of my heart. I raised my cup and sipped again, willing it to be still as it beat loudly in my chest. My head whispered cautions that my heart did not want to hear.
“Marriage is so,” agreed Rob, “and should not be treated lightly. But I believe I am within my rights to think on separating from Amy, to seek another wife,” he leaned towards me. “Elizabeth, I am a man. I have titles and wealth and I wish to have children, to have a son to hand my name and my rights to when I die. Amy and I have been together for eight years and never once has she given a sign that she is fertile. I wish to have children. I am within my rights to divorce my present wife on the grounds that she is infertile, and marry again.” He reached out and put his hand over mine, his fingers were warm whilst mine was cold. I was shaking slightly but it had nothing to do with the wind.
“Amy is sick, and I could wait for her to die. But as you have said so often, talking of replacing her, waiting for her to die, it is all so morbid, is it not? And it is not fair to the woman I married.”
“And you think that divorcing her will do right by her instead?”
“It would be honest, which is what I think is right… And it is what I think you objected to when I offered you my love before. I could not offer myself to you as a free man, and you liked not the idea of hanging on for the death of a sick woman as it made you feel… ghoulish.” At his words, I shivered.
Rob nodded to me. “There, you see? I am right, am I not? If I press Amy for a divorce then she can retire to a convent or to her family estates; she will be free of a husband that she never sees. I will be free to marry again; to finally have the wife that I long for, and the family of which I dream.”
I looked up into Robin’s eyes. They were so fierce and yet so soft with love. It was a heady mixture to behold. They pleaded with me, and in all conscience, I could not leave him hanging there without telling him the truth. “I do love you,” I whispered. “I cannot deny that you are ever-present in my heart. And if I were ever to marry, you would be the only man I could consider in truth. I would share my life with you; I would… share the care of my country with you.”
For a moment it looked as though Rob was about to grab me in his arms and kiss me. But he stopped himself, remembering the guards all around us. It would hardly be done to kiss the Queen as though she were a tavern wench.
“But there will be much opposition to our match, my Eyes,” I whispered urgently, my cheeks burning. “There would be many against it.”
“Then we will convince them,” he murmured, taking my hand once more. “Just let me know, Elizabeth; if I should bring this to pass and divorce Amy, would you take my as your husband? Would you let our love come to life at last?”
I swallowed. I had faced many dangers in my life, but I don’t know if I had ever been as scared as I was in the moment when the man I loved asked me to open my heart to him and love him, openly, and honestly, before the eyes of my people, and before the eyes of God.
But I could have this, I thought… I could have Robin. I could have Robin as my husband. That was the thought going through my head. At all other times it had been an impossible thought, but if he divorced Amy on the grounds that she was infertile, then we had lawful means to go about this. The matter would need time to settle, but then, we could marry.
All my country wanted to see me wed; if I were to give up my life of autonomy for them, then why should I not marry where I had private inclination to? There were those who would grumble at whatever choice was made. If I could not please everyone in this matter, then why should I not please myself?
I fought back the memory of my sister saying much the same, defending her choice to marry Phillip of Spain on the grounds of private inclination. My heart harried the thought from my head. This is not the same, I told myself. In marrying Rob, I would marry an Englishman, not some foreign power bent on dragging my England into war, or imposing their own ambitions upon us. This is not the same… it is not…
I swallowed again. “I will marry you,” my voice was soft, low, and throbbed with all the fear and the excitement of my choice. “When you have divorced your wife, and when a decent space of time has passed… I will marry you, Robin.”
Again, Robin moved to gather me in his arms but I held up a hand, blushing furiously. “Until that time, though,” my voice squeaked with sudden fear, “none can know, Rob… you must promise me that. If it comes out, I shall deny it utterly. You cannot say a thing, even to your sister or brother, you must promise! The Queen of England cannot become engaged to a man who is still married to another. The shame would be unbearable. I would risk the love of my people, risk my throne, even. You must promise me.”
He lifted my hand to his lips and kissed each finger on it. “I swear to you with all my heart that I will tell no one of your promise to me… and I swear to you also that I shall play this scene to myself every morn and every night, for the rest of my days, to remind myself of the happiest day of my life.”
His face glowed with excitement and desire flashed through his eyes in the firelight. “I swear to you, Elizabeth,” he promised ardently, “you and I… our love… we will be the envy of the world. We will have beautiful daughters and strong sons, and I will love you until the end of my days. We will make England greater than it has ever been; the envy of all other countries.” He kissed my palm. “And I will make sure you know every single day that you are the most beautiful, most wise and most wonderful woman in the world!”
I laughed. “I do not think I am any of those things, Robin,” I leaned in against his shoulder, smelling the sweet scent of his body. The fire, the wine and the conversation were bringing heat to areas of my body I knew not well. Parts of me were soft as honey, as parts were rigid as steel. Robin was the master of my body. I felt as though I could melt into his love for me; allow it to take me to a place of safety and warmth that I had never before known. Allow myself to be kept in the safe hand of love, and never again to feel the lonely coldness of having to stand alone.
“You are all those things to me and more,” he murmured hotly and then shook his head. “You are my love and the master of my heart, my hopes and my happiness. My life can never be complete without you in it. You have the ability to make me angrier than any other person I have ever met, and yet you make me happier and more peaceful than any other too. When I am sad you lift me up, and when I am pompous you cut me down. You are my confidante and my friend, Elizabeth, and when I die, if they look at my heart, they will see your name alone carved into it.”
Tears sprung to my eyes as he spoke. I nodded, my cheek moving against his chest, but I could not speak. For once in my life, words failed me. “You are… my best friend, Robin,” I stuttered, feeling my emotions choke me even as I tried to honestly express all that I felt for him. For so long I had hidden so much of my feelings under jests… now, as I came to be honest with him, I felt as though I were forcing stone through stone to do so. “You… you make me laugh. You surprise me… When I think I have lost all faith in the world, you… you come to me to offer me more. I have loved you since I was a girl, I think, although I never dared to hope that there was a chance you could be mine. I have not had an easy life, and my life is not easy now. But if you… if you will take the good with the bad, then I will offer my heart to you freely, Robin, and love you with all of my heart, until the day I die.”
We could not embrace, but Robin clenched my hands in his with a power that crushed my fingers. It hurt, but I did not call out. I gazed with glazed eyes at the man I loved, marvelling at the words I had spoken. None had ever reached so deep into my heart as he. None had ever made me reveal so much of myself, and my emotions. I was entirely vulnerable to him in that moment, entirely his… My head had ceased to talk. My heart had become master of all.
“Then, I am engaged,” he softly whispered. “But none shall know until the time is right, I promise you, Elizabeth,” he frowned in concentration as he thought. “I will ensure all of this goes smoothly and there will be no opposition to our marriage when all is done.”
The fire had grown low and the wind was picking up around us. The woodlands started to look dark, shadows creeping through the twisted ivy and the rustling briar. “We must head back to the palace,” I said, sadly. Robin released my hand and we rose, standing as my guards stamped out the fire, and poured water from a stream on the embers.
Robin breathed in deeply as he stood, and looked at me with sparkling eyes. I had never seen him look as happy as he did now, and no wonder… not only was he promised to the woman he loved, but soon enough, he would be King consort of England. I loved my Robin well; I knew that his ambition in life came second to his love for me, at least I hoped it did… but all the same, to achieve two ambitions at the same time, it was a heady moment for any man.
He beamed at me. “I’ll wager Your Majesty a silver noble I can beat you back to the palace.”
My lips curled upwards. “Wager accepted, my lord,” I grinned. “Although you know you will never win. My horse carries but one slight woman, whereas your poor mount has to carry you and all that food you consumed.”
Robin chuckled and as we went to mount our horses, surrounded by my guards, I could not help but look over at him with pleasure running through my blood. There was a sort of exulting peace which had settled over me… it came, I think, from finally saying aloud that I did love him, that I would marry him… from making a choice.
Perhaps I could marry, despite my fears. Perhaps I could love and be loved. Perhaps there was a chance for Elizabeth of England to have an equal, a companion, a love to share her life with.
Chapter Sixty-Five
Hampton Court
Spring-Summer 1560
In the late spring of that year, news came to me from Parry that Pope Pius IV was sending a delegation to England to command me to return to the Catholic faith, and bring my country with me. Parry’s spies in the Vatican and elsewhere in Europe had picked up on this news as the delegation was sent out. I told Parry to order the delegation to halt.
“If they cannot deliver the Bishop of Rome’s commands to me, then I cannot refuse, can I?” I asked Parry breezily. “Therein, the Bishop of Rome can have no cause to be angered, as his delegation was simply unable to present his wishes to me. Tell them what you want… disease is prevalent in England, or there are fears for their safety from Protestant fanatics. I care not. Just keep them at bay. ”
I could already see Parry’s mind working on what he would write to the delegation. He went to leave and carry out my orders, but I stopped him; his face seemed pale and his body was thin. “Are you well, Parry?” I asked with concern. “We are not overworking you in your present duties?”
Parry’s eyes lighted on me with affection and he smiled. “No, Majesty,” he assured me. “I am well. I have ever thrived on hard work.”
“Well you must take more care for yourself,” I scolded, looking on his pallor with concern. “I will send my doctors to you to bleed you or recommend a tonic for your present paleness.”
“My Queen’s concern for my health is of great comfort to me, and is, in itself, the best of tonics.” His eyes were warm to hear my fear for his health. “But send no doctors, Majesty… I have often seen hale men fall into sudden death at the hands of a doctor. I will take more care for my own self, I promise you.”
“You should eat and drink more sparingly,” I counselled. “I often find that men at court are apt to eat themselves into an early grave.” I knocked my fingertip in an agitated manner on the table, thinking of my great father, and his enormous girth at the end of his life. “If you will not see my doctors then at least avail yourself of the healing herbs in the physic gardens,” I continued. “I do not like to see my friends in fragile health.”
He promised again to care for himself, and was just on his way out when Cecil arrived and asked if Parry might stay as he relayed his news. Cecil beamed at me. I looked at him with surprise. I do not think I had ever seen Cecil so happy. It looked as though he might throw his chain of office over his shoulder and dance a gay jig for me. “The regent of Scotland, Mary of Guise is departed from this life,” he announced with glee, his voice wavering on the edge of crying his words aloud for joy. “The French signify at this news that they are willing to sue for peace with us and the Scottish lords.”
I snorted. “As well they might, Cecil!” I sat back on my chair and exhaled deeply. It was as though I was Atlas, and someone had suddenly lifted the weight of the world from my shoulders. “Without the Guise she-wolf the French will lose the country entirely to the Scots lords. They will not be able to place our cousin Mary Stewart on the throne, or advance her claim to be named as heir here, unless they make peace with us.”
