Legacy: The Acclaimed Novel of Elizabeth, England's Most Passionate Queen -- and the Three Men Who Loved Her (44 page)

have the first payment.”

Feria was deeply concerned. What sort of diplomacy could be

conducted in a court where one could not bribe? And what manner of

woman could reduce ambitious, self-seeking predators to tamed birds in

less than two months?

He looked at her with new respect—and suspicion. Every day that passed

saw this cocksure, confident madam sitting a little more securely on her

uncertain throne, and consequently a little less dependent on the goodwill

of her brother-in-law. And stil he had no inkling of her true intentions.

It occurred to Feria that once she was safely crowned there would be

no holding her. And the coronation was rapidly closing in upon them…

t t t

When Robin left Dr. Dee’s mysterious riverside house with rolls of

astronomical calculations coiled in his saddle-bag, he deliberately dawdled

over his return. And when he finally sauntered into court, it was to find

the Queen waiting for him with ill-concealed annoyance.

“The 15th of January,” she said coldly, and pushed the documents

aside after a cursory glance. “Dee took his time to come to that conclu-

sion. Is he in his dotage?”

Robin lifted his broad shoulders and gave her a look of practised

surprise.

“Madam, you gave me to understand there was no urgent need of

my return.”

“So? Where have you been till now?”

“Visiting my wife,” he replied calmly, “at Your Majesty’s kind

insistence.”

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“I see.” He saw her fingers tense as she began to roll up the documents

with unnecessary vigour. “And was the visit of benefit to her in her sad

state of health?”

“I believe I managed to raise her spirits, madam—among other things.”

Her hand quivered towards the heavy sand caster and for a moment he

was quite convinced she would throw it at him. But then she appeared

to think better of it, clasped her fingers resolutely together on the desk,

and looked at him with something curiously like grudging respect. It was

not often that she got as good as she gave and she was half furious, half

amused by his nerve. She wanted a man at her side, a
real
man—one who

would not be afraid to stand up to her when the occasion demanded. And

Robin was suddenly aware that if he wanted to get any closer to her, he

was going to have to be prepared to take a few risks.

Certainly for the moment his strategy appeared to have succeeded. He

had never known her so charming. There were no more uncalled-for

remarks about Amy, and he was the Queen’s constant companion. By

the time the fifteenth day of January dawned, cold and brilliant with

snow clinging to the narrow streets, even the lowest court scullions were

whispering about their intimacy.

Plans for the most spectacular coronation in English history had been

held in abeyance by the need to find a bishop willing to officiate, but

Oglethorpe, Bishop of Carlisle, had finally capitulated under pressure.

Reluctantly, with all the grace of an unwilling bull being herded into the

ring, he had agreed to crown her at last, and after that, Cecil had seen to it

that no more time was wasted. With half the world ready to question her

legitimacy, the sooner she was safely crowned the happier he would be.

Strenuous ceremonies led up to the great event and by the day of

the coronation, Cecil, in company with the majority of the court, was

completely exhausted. But Robin was young enough to cope with the

extra work, and insensitive enough to remain impervious to the tension.

And as he strode through the crowded corridors he was amused by those

glances of deference which were already becoming his due. His new

suit of carnation-gold silk perfectly complemented his dark features; he

looked like a king and had begun to feel like one. He could hardly wait

for the Queen to see him in all his magnificence and when he managed,

amid the press of people, to get close enough to kiss her hand, he was sure

she would remark upon it.

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Susan Kay

“Are you actually
related
to Jonah,” she inquired in a fierce undertone,

“or just a close friend?”

He straightened up abruptly and released her fingers with alarm. She

moved on immediately to give her hand to the Duchess of Norfolk,

leaving him feeling deflated and very uneasy, wondering what he had

done. Or not done. Or said—

The questions gnawed at his mind until he saw her enter the Abbey,

and there in that solemn moment, he briefly forgot the fortunes of Robert

Dudley. His quick intake of breath was echoed by the whole congrega-

tion, clearly audible above the fanfare.

The cold air was heavy with incense. She walked slowly towards him,

dressed entirely in crimson velvet, an ermine cape around her shoulders,

her red hair falling loose to her waist beneath a tiny crimson cap. In

the glow of a thousand candles she looked suddenly like a living flame,

remote, splendid, immortal.

Untouchable
, he thought, and lowered his eyes as from a brilliant light

that caused him pain. It was in that moment that he first knew he loved

her, and the knowledge filled him with despairing humility. There was

no shame in aiming for a crown and failing—some of the strongest men

in England had done that. But to truly want the one woman in this

world who might just refuse him—that was madness. He could wander

the surface of the earth and never find his pride of manhood again, if the

worst happened. If she said no—

For five hours he craned his neck to get a glimpse of her between

the flowing arms of Oglethorpe’s robe and when it was over he was

as weary as the rest. Elizabeth’s crimson gown was changed for cloth

of gold after the Anointing and by the time she sat down at the state

banquet in Westminster Hall, it was three o’clock in the afternoon

and she was wearing violet velvet. Eight hundred guests were attended

by an army of servants, all dressed in red, while Norfolk and Arundel

supervised the proceedings on horseback. Robin sat like a man in a

trance, absently eating whatever came within reach of his hand. His

eyes were fixed continually on the Queen, who had not once glanced

his way.

She sat on a raised dais beneath a lofty window, with the Earl of Sussex

and her great uncle Howard standing behind, ready to serve all she ate

and drank. The violet gown did not suit her so well, thought Robin

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suddenly—in the harsh winter daylight it made her look quite ill. She was

extremely pale and she had eaten nothing—

Jonah
!—ill-omened messenger of the Lord, his name for centuries

synonymous with bad luck.

Understanding dawned upon Robin in an unpleasant moment which

made him sweat with horror. It was one o’clock in the morning before

she left her place and he was able to calculate dully that she had endured

over fourteen gruelling hours of ceremony on a day she should have spent

in bed. A day he personally had guaranteed as propitious.

She was not going to forgive him for this, he knew it. Dee was to

blame, but Dee was safely buried at Mortlake beyond her immediate

reach. The damned charlatan would doubtless get away with it, while

Robin paid the penalty, like the Greek messengers of old. And the penalty

would be withdrawal of her favour—

Hopelessly, he dared one more glance at her and found her eyes

suddenly fixed upon him. Her face was waxen with fatigue, but her smile

was warm, reaching out to him like a friendly hand. To the end of his life

he never knew how she found the strength to walk out of the Hall and

back to the palace unaided.

When she had gone he found his eyes were wet with unshed tears.

And it was no surprise to him next morning when he was told his tourna-

ment must be cancelled because the Queen was too ill to attend it.

t t t

The opening of Parliament was also delayed by the Queen’s illness, the

first real indication to the court that they might all be living in a fool’s

paradise. Cecil conducted state business at her bedside and was aware of a

nagging anxiety. Evidently she was not as strong as her blazing energy had

seemed to suggest. The official explanation that she had a bad cold hardly

seemed sufficient to account for her pinched pallor and her listless lack

of appetite. She seemed to have dissipated all her reserve of strength and

he was suddenly aware of the pressing need to get her married and safely

with child. If she should die without leaving an heir of her own body, the

country would be thrown back into the dynastic feuds of the previous

century, the Catholics plumping for Mary Stuart while the Protestants

championed Lady Katherine Grey. There would be utter chaos. Surely

she could see that.

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Susan Kay

While he was there, they brought her a bowl of steaming beef broth

which she pushed to one side without interest. He was driven then to

interfere and beg her to take some nourishment.

“…for the sake of this country which depends on Your Majesty’s

well being.”

She glared at him but picked up the spoon, like a sulky child, and

began to toy halfheartedly with the contents of the bowl. As he took his

leave, he told himself feverishly that there was no time to waste, no time

to waste at all.

I must find her a husband quickly
—

The shadows over her crown were rapidly growing longer. In France

Mary Stuart had officially quartered the English royal arms with those of

France and Scotland and now appeared at all public functions under the

title of Queen of England. It was the first serious challenge to Elizabeth’s

legitimacy, and it could only mean that sooner or later the French King

would enforce his daughter-in-law’s claim with an army. And England

was in no position to wage war at the moment. So much depended on

the uncertain life-span of one delicate, wilful young woman—it hardly

bore thinking about.

And yet he thought of it continually, while snow fell soundlessly

outside his narrow window. Waking and sleeping Elizabeth was never

far from Cecil’s thoughts. Her pale, oval face seemed to be permanently

engraved on his mind and in any other man there would be only one

word for such obsession in a woman. But he was not in love with her.

How could he be when he was so utterly devoted to his bluestocking

wife? He was a simple, respectable married man who had neither the time

nor the inclination for other women.

And yet she was everything to him, he could not deny it. His career,

his future, almost his twin soul. He had never felt this way for any other

human being. He had served and abandoned several men in cold blood, but

deep in his heart he knew he would never be able to abandon Elizabeth,

no matter what she did against him. It would be like abandoning himself.

On the day she officially swore him into her service, her eyes had

looked straight and unafraid right into his soul.

“
It is my command that at all times, without respect to my private will, you

will be faithful to the state and give me always the counsel you think best. I know

you will not be corrupted by any manner of gift…
”

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Her words had moved him immeasurably, her riveting glance had

made him tremble with the magnitude of the burden she laid upon him.

She had said in public that he was a man who could not be bought.

How did she know it? Many would say his record for loyalty was not an

impressive one. Indeed he could think of only one other who would have

given that judgement of him—his straight-laced, unexciting, but entirely

reliable wife, Mildred. Was it possible that the Queen, on such a relatively

brief acquaintance, could know him as well as his own wife? Because if

she did, then her judgement was not only sound—it was quite uncanny.

For Mildred was the key that unlocked the inner man in Cecil. He was

a loyal husband and a loving father in an age where those qualities were

rare. He and his wife had a happy, stable union and they had dwelt for

many years behind its dull fortress in secure harmony, no hint of restless

dissatisfaction on either side.

Now suddenly there was the Queen, volatile, unpredictable,

demanding—the very antithesis of Mildred in every way. And Cecil

knew the quiet, happy existence of his home life must lose something in

consequence of his extraordinary relationship with Elizabeth.

He accepted the loss gladly and felt guilty because of it. Once he would

have said nothing in this world could come between him and Mildred,

but now holding his place at Elizabeth’s side was his sole concern. He had

a dream—a strong, united England guided by his hand—and Elizabeth

was the answer to that dream. He had sensed her kindred spirit years ago,