Cor Rotto: A novel of Catherine Carey (18 page)

“Yes, just a little flushed. I am really quite all right, no need for panic. We shall go to my chambers as planned so I can dress for the banquet.”

She offered her cool clammy hand and I took it, leading her to the bedchamber.

It was apparent to me that Elizabeth felt quite ill, but she never let on to others that she felt anything other than wonderful. She sat on the dais under a gold-trimmed cloth of estate with a pleased look on her face while her courtiers celebrated and feasted. She sent all of the best dishes out to her favourites, but she did not partake in much of her own food. A nibble here and a sip there just so her ladies would not get suspicious, but I knew better. After the tables were cleared, Elizabeth took to the dance-floor with her prized courtier, Robert Dudley. Whatever illness she was feeling earlier seemed to be swept away while she spun around the floor with Robert. Seeing her so happy finally put me at ease and I sought out my own love, Francis, to dance the night away.

The next morning we paraded through the newly gravelled streets of Westminster on a carpet of fine azure cloth. The crowds stampeded the carpet after Elizabeth passed and began tearing off bits of the cloth for souvenirs. The Countess of Lennox, Margaret Douglas, carried Elizabeth’s train and was nearly knocked over in the melee. At Westminster Hall, Elizabeth was vested with her robes of state and joined by Owen Oglethorpe, the Bishop of Carlisle. The honour of the queen’s coronation should have gone to the Archbishop of Canterbury, but the current archbishop, Nicholas Heath, refused on the grounds that Elizabeth would not agree to return England to the Catholic Church. I was certain that his predecessor, Thomas Cranmer, would have been more than thrilled to crown Elizabeth, just as he had crowned her mother nearly twenty-seven years ago. But Cranmer had gone up in flames on the stake. He would not crown anyone ever again. With all of the bishops sulking over Elizabeth’s refusal to pacify them, the duty of the day fell to the first bishop who accepted and that was Oglethorpe.

Our burgeoning group traipsed into the abbey heralded by trumpets. Elizabeth was enthroned on the chair of estate and the pageantry began. She made an offering of gold and accepted the oaths delivered to her by the bishop, and just as her sister, mother and father before her, she was consecrated and anointed in holy oil. She received the sword, sceptre and orb, and kissed the Pax. Elizabeth then returned to her seat to hear Oglethorpe’s Mass, but the moment he raised the Host she withdrew from the service.

A murmur went through the crowd. She had done this to Oglethorpe before. During Christmas Mass he had raised the Host even though she had explicitly told him not to. She had stormed out of the chapel in protest. I pitied him. Bishops such as he had been raising the Host, depicting the corporeal change from bread into Christ’s body, for centuries without incident. Now, men like my husband and William Cecil proclaimed that the bread was just bread, merely symbolic, but it would take more than just a decade of inconsistent change to convince the devout Catholics that their traditions were wrong.

Thankfully Elizabeth returned with little commotion, having changed into a mantle and surcoat of plush violet velvet trimmed in ermine fur. At the conclusion of the mass, we filed out of the abbey and returned to Whitehall.

The celebration banquet lasted well into the early morning hours and all of the excitement took its toll on Elizabeth. The next morning, the jousting tournaments had to be postponed while she was kept to her bedchamber with excruciating stomach pains. Mary Sidney and I fussed around her like worried mother hens, but by the next day she was in better spirits and able to partake in the festivities in the tiltyard. My cousin, Thomas Howard, 4
th
Duke of Norfolk, led the four challengers. We went to great lengths to make sure that Elizabeth was layered in her warmest clothes to keep out the chill, but I still fretted. She was still young and unmarried with no heir on the way. Her death would throw the country into the turmoil that our father had imagined before Edward was born. That whey-faced son of Lady Lennox, Darnley, was the heir presumptive until Elizabeth could give birth to her own, and I could not stand the idea of him sitting on her throne.

Francis caught my eye and I left Elizabeth’s side for a moment to speak with him.

“What is she doing out here?” he whispered, alarmed.

I threw my hands up. “She is the queen now, Francis, not the little princess we knew. Look at all she went through to get here. Do you honestly believe that she would miss her own tournament?”

Francis groaned. “Make sure you keep her as warm as possible and tonight when you put her to bed, lay warming bricks under her covers and get a night cap on her head.”

I raised my eyebrow. “Francis, how many children have I raised?”

“I know, I know. But I am sure I do not need to remind you of what might happen if she dies before she has an heir.”

I narrowed my eyes and shook my head. “No, you do not. I remember my brother Edward quite well, thank you.”

He softened and held his hand out to me. “Catherine ...”

I crossed my arms, “I have a job to do if you would please excuse me.”

“Go on then.”

The nerve! While he was off on the king’s business and then learning the new religion across the channel, I was at Greys raising our children and tending to their sicknesses. He would not know the first thing about treating a fever, let along preventing one. I growled under my breath and then tried to shake off my irritation. I had Elizabeth to worry about, not Francis. He could spend his time concerned about the Privy Council and his duties as vice-chamberlain, I would worry about the warmth of the queen’s bed and nightgown.

In the end, Elizabeth did not fall ill that evening. After my duties were done I, still buzzing from all the wine and music, headed back to our rooms to celebrate with Francis, our previous argument forgotten.

A few months after the tournament, during a beautiful sunny spring day on the bowling lawns, I vomited in front of the queen.

“My lady cousin,” she laughed, leaping aside. “Was it something you ate or do you harbour yet another occupant in that fruitful womb of yours?”

I moaned in disgust and tried to straighten myself up. “I am so embarrassed, Your Grace. Please excuse me.”

She wrapped her arm around Robert Dudley’s and they shuffled aside. “The horrid things women must do to bring children into this world. Come, Robin, let’s walk in the gardens. The lilies are beginning to bloom and I would like to gather some for my bedchamber.”

Robert ushered her away from me without giving me a second look.

As Elizabeth and her favourite wandered off, Mary Sidney ran across the lawn to my rescue. She handed me her handkerchief and reached behind me to loosen my stomacher.

“No doubt my brother would love to put an occupant in
her
womb,” she scoffed. “Ever since he became her precious master of the horse, he has been insufferable. And she as well. Not even a kind word for her cousin on this happy occasion.”

She paused for a moment making sure I had wiped all the traces of my sick away.

“Anyway – Are you all right?”

I nodded.

“Yes, I am fine. Thank you, Lady Sidney. It was very kind of you to help me. I am just a knight’s wife, I would hardly expect Her Majesty to jump at my call,” I laughed nervously.

Mary frowned, “You are right, but you could expect some compassion, especially for her kin. It is not as if she has an abundance of friends and family by her side.” She glanced furtively around and then lowered her voice. “They all come running to her side now, but the moment there is an uprising that any of the nobles could stand to gain from will they still be there?”

“Mary, you don’t think ...”

“I don’t know what to think, Catherine. But I have seen enough around here to know that since old King Henry died, no one has been safe on the throne and I pray to God that my brother does not cause Elizabeth to lose it. Tongues are wagging in every dark corner of this castle. ‘The queen and her horse master!’ they laugh.”

Calmly, I put my hand on her arm. “Mary, I serve the queen in her bedchamber, I can assure you that they are not lovers.”

“Catherine, I believe you and I know … well, at least I hope … that my brother would never take it that far, but the rest of the court does not know that. The rest of the world does not know that.”

I sighed. “I will mention it to Francis and maybe he can bring it up during a Privy Council meeting.”

“No!” Mary exclaimed. “Please don’t. I do not want the queen or my brother to know I have spoken out of turn. I think, at this point, all we can do is stand back and pray that our queen comes to her good senses before it is too late.”

I nodded in agreement. “Your words are safe with me.”

Mary had good cause to worry. When Elizabeth refused a wedding proposal from her former brother-in-law, King Philip of Spain, it sent out a message to the continent. England would not return to the Catholic Church. I was witness to the dreadful scene. King Philip’s ambassador, de Feria, could not escape from her presence chamber fast enough. He skittered out of the room with her shouts nipping at his heels like rabid dogs.

The pope recalled the Vatican’s ambassador to England in haste and issued a papal bull calling on all the faithful Catholics to depose their new ruler. Their ascent to heaven would be celebrated by the angels for their work against that heretic bastard Elizabeth. The day she received it, we were excused from her bedchamber so she could meet with Secretary William Cecil in private. Her infuriated screams could be heard down the corridor.

Through all of the dramatics, and even though her councillors quaked with fear, Elizabeth refused to change her habits or give in to the pope’s threats. She continued to ride out every day with her master of the horse by her side, hunting and hawking until nightfall. Then, when the moon was high and the quarry had settled into their beds, Elizabeth would entertain her faithful servant with cards or conversation in front of the fire in her richly appointed, candle-lit bedchamber.

Elizabeth did not fear the pope and, to show her detractors, at the end of the Lenten season, she made Robert Dudley a Knight of the Garter. To emphasise his promotion, we celebrated his election in grand style.

Elizabeth was determined to play her part as the benevolent queen during the first Easter of her reign. On Maundy Thursday the guards rounded up twenty of the poorest women and ushered them into the courtyard at Whitehall. We trailed behind Her Majesty into the bright spring sunshine with our offerings, our arms leaden with Elizabeth’s cast-off gowns.

The women sat, anxiously fingering the tattered rags hanging off their scrawny bodies, on beautifully upholstered chairs that had been brought outside just for the occasion. We waited and watched in wonder as Elizabeth knelt down to each one with a bucket of warm water and a rag to clean their dirt-caked feet. When she stood up from her task, she laid a blessing upon each head and gestured for them to come to us for a gown and a silver cup.

This act of contrition was nothing new. Every queen, stretching to as far back as before I could remember, had dropped to her knees to wash the feet of the poor at one time or another. While this seemed commonplace for the ever pious Catherine of Aragon and my aunt Anne, who was ever eager to please the people, it seemed out of place for Elizabeth to be on her knees in supplication. This was the same Elizabeth who had laughed at my morning sickness, the same Elizabeth who had screamed in a dreadful tantrum when things did not go her way. This same Elizabeth looked up at those pitiable ragged women with true compassion in her eyes, scrubbing as though she were shining a gold plate instead of the filthy feet of an unfortunate. She was truly an enigma to me.

I begged and pleaded with the queen to be allowed to go back home to Greys instead of going on progress, but she would have none of it.

“Catherine, of course I need you on this journey,” she said. “It is my first progress and I need to show the people of England that I have the support of my family. As much as I despise her, I have even informed Lady Lennox that she is to accompany me as well.”

I placed both of my hands on my ever-increasing belly and forced a smile. “I will do as you command, Your Grace.”

After a few weeks on the road sweltering in the muggy heat of July and August, our never-ending train of coaches passing through the cheering hoards and being entertained at the finest houses in Eltham, Dartford and Cobham, we arrived at the magnificent palace of Nonesuch to stay as guests of the Earl of Arundel. The earl was desperately hoping to be considered for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage and had gone to great lengths to make his intentions known. For the last couple of months he had been paying off some of the maids-of-honour, inducing them to whisper pretty words about him in Elizabeth’s ear. I avoided him at all costs, but it was nearly impossible once he had taken to slinking around Elizabeth’s rooms uninvited. I imagine he found her first progress the perfect opportunity to show off the purchase of this palace from her now deceased sister, Mary.

My father would have been enraged that Mary had sold his glimmering building. Always wanting to have the best of everything, he had built a castle like no one had ever seen before and christened it with the name of Nonesuch to prove it. In fact, there
was
nothing else like it. With the exception of Hampton Court, the king’s other palaces looked positively ancient in comparison. He had said that he built it in celebration of the birth of his long-awaited son, Edward, but it had seemed to me to be a monument to his lost love, Queen Jane Seymour. Her death cast a pall over the king. She had not lived long enough to see his love slip away from her like Catherine or Anne and so she would be forever on a pedestal in his eyes. He poured out his grief for her into this lavish, dream-like palace.

Seeing the heavily spired octagonal towers rise up into view as we approached the palace truly was like being in a dream. The elaborate stucco panels gracing the sides of the walls and towers appeared in greater detail as we got closer. Each panel was intricately carved with a scene from mythology, telling those stories of old antiquity. The mullioned windows sparkled in the sunlight. A light breeze blew through the air, fluttering the banners that hung from the onion-shaped roofs that topped the towers. The sight took my breath away.

“No wonder he died broke,” Lady Carew whispered in my ear. Elizabeth was staring at us and as soon as she turned her head to look out of the window of the carriage, I elbowed Lady Carew with a distasteful frown. Elizabeth could not stand to have anyone say unflattering things about our father in her presence. She would not hesitate to repay the unkindness to anyone who dared to voice it.

The train of coaches, horses and carts snaked its way around the palace and through the glamorous wooden gates of the outer courtyard. Once we stopped, the door to our coach flew open and in the doorway stood our host. The earl’s thin lips were stretched into a smile so wide that his eyes were almost squinted shut. His bulbous nose was the colour of a cherry. At the sight of the queen, he dipped into a very low bow.

“Welcome my queen! Welcome to Nonesuch!” he preened.

Elizabeth offered her hand to him and he helped her down to the ground. “It is no small wonder that my father loved hunting here,” she apprised. “I would love to take advantage of your parks while I am here. I made certain Sir Robert brought my best horses.”

The earl’s ears flushed a blood red. He had invited the queen here to further his suit for her hand and there was no way that he was letting his biggest rival, her master of the horse, get the pleasure of taking her hunting in his parks.

“Your Majesty, no one knows these parks as well as I do. I would be honoured to take you out tomorrow morning. First thing!”

“That sounds wonderful, Arundel.” She turned to us. “Ladies, I will see you in my rooms.”

We nodded in unison to their backs as they proceeded on to the inner courtyards.

A grand feast was set up on the front lawn of the castle. Tents were raised in a cluster to hold all the delicacies on display and the fountains dripped with red wine. The earl’s personal musicians surrounded a stage for dancing set up on the grass. A chair of estate sat at the edge of the stage so that Elizabeth could sit and enjoy the entertainment.

Francis knew this was an excellent opportunity to mingle with the most powerful men of the court, but he was concerned about me and spent much of the night making sure I was as comfortable as possible.

“I understand why she insisted on dragging you along, but I am still not happy about it,” he muttered as we sat in the shade of a large oak tree and watched the maids dance.

“She is the queen and I vowed to serve as she commanded. My life is not in any danger and it is still another two months until the child comes.” I shifted in my seat to relieve the sharp pain on the back of my thigh.

Francis chuckled at the scowl on my face, “Think of Arundel’s outrage if you were to give birth on his lawn and ruin all his fun.”

“Ah, yes. I would not dare dream to take the attention away from him.”

Francis was quiet for a moment, staring out at the stage where the queen was alternately being led out in dancing by both Arundel and Dudley, each man trying to best the other with the complexity of their steps.

Finally he said, “It is like watching a duel isn’t it? Each man trying to out-do the other to win her heart. Yet, each one ignores the outrage that her choice of either one of them would cause. Still, she leads them on and, against their better judgment, they dance for her, hoping and praying that she will reveal her intentions.”

“But I thought you supported Robert Dudley in his suit? And with rumours going around that his wife is sick, I am certain it is only a matter of time before he is once again an eligible bachelor.”

Francis replied thoughtfully, “It seems like only yesterday that we attended his wedding to Amy, doesn’t it? They had seemed so in love, marrying in spite of his father’s outrage that Amy was of such low stature. Now that lovely girl wastes away, biding her time, while her husband plays the smitten courtier to the queen.”

“Then why do you support him, Francis?”

“He is my friend, Catherine. All those years at Court, while my own brother was tending to our lands and watching over you, Robert Dudley was as close as a brother to me. I don’t agree with the way he has treated Amy, but he is my friend and I will support him. He is certainly a much better choice than Arundel or William Pickering. Besides, I think the queen has her mother’s intelligence and ambition and I do not believe she will choose any of those fools to be her consort.”

“Just promise me that you will not fall to the queen’s charms while I am back home at Greys having this child,” I said, giggling.

Francis cupped my chin and kissed my lips. “As far as I am concerned,
you
are my queen and I fell to your charms long ago. Besides, with my brother still away in the Low Countries, it is high time I head back to our estates and I plan to ask the queen tonight if we may leave together for home instead of going back to London.”

Relief flooded over me. The only birth Francis had attended was Thomas’s when I had almost died of fever. The fact that he would leave the court behind to attend this one told me how much that incident had affected him. Unlike Robert Dudley’s wife, I would never have to worry about Francis setting me aside. His love was not just pretty words said in moments of passion. His love was in acts of compassion and kindness. His love was sitting under an oak tree with me instead of socialising with the powerful men of the court and coming up with an excuse to leave the queen to be with me as I gave birth to his child when other men would have preferred to be in the luxurious halls of her palace. My marriage may have been arranged, but it truly was a love match.