My Enemy, the Queen (47 page)

Would he never learn? I wondered. How I wished that Leicester were alive so that he could have talked with him. But when had Essex ever listened to anyone? My brother William and Mountjoyhose relationship with Penelope made him like a son to meere constantly trying to warn him. As for Christopher he seemed to be possessed of such adulation for my son that anything he did was right.

The Queen, hearing that Essex was ill, changed her attitude towards him. Perhaps the death of Burleigh had made her feel lonely ho shall say? They were all dead nowyes, Spirit, Moor and Bellwether. There was still one left to lovehe wayward, reckless but fascinating son of her old enemy.

She sent her physician to see him with orders that she was to hear immediately of his condition; and as soon as he was well enough to travelut not beforee was to come to her.

It was reconciliation, and he recovered quickly. Christopher was delighted. one could resist him for long,he said. But my sober brother William was less euphoric.

Essex came to see me after he had been received by the Queen. She had been warm and expressed her pleasure to have him back at Court. He believed that everything was as it had been, and he was secretly elated that he could do that which no other would have dared and still regain her favor. At the Twelfth Night ball everyone noticed how he danced with the Queen and how delighted she seemed because he was with her.

Yet I was thoughtful, and I railed against hern secret of courseor keeping me out.

Essex said he was going to Ireland. He was going to teach Tyrone a lesson. Nobody knew as much about the Irish question as he did, and he reckoned that his father had been ill served by his country. He had given all to the cause, and because he had died before he succeeded, he was considered a failure. He was going to avenge that. The Earl of Essex had died in Ireland and was said to have failed; now Essex son was going to continue his father good work; he was going to succeed and the name of Essex would be remembered ever after with reverence whenever Ireland was mentioned.

This was all very grand. The Queen, with one of her sly comments, reminded him that, since he was so concerned with his father affairs, there were some debts of his which were still unsettled.

This reference to my first husband debts sent a tremor of dismay through the family, and I was afraid that I might be called upon to meet them. Essex declared that if the Queen persisted in this rapacious mannerfter all he had done for here would leave Court forever. This was wild talk, for he knew as well as any that his only hope of future advancement was through the Court.

The Queen must have cared deeply for him because the matter was dropped and no more heard of it, and, after some reluctance, she gave Essex permission to go to Ireland and command the army there.

He was flushed with triumph. He came to Leicester House and told us of his plans. Christopher listened to him intently with that adoration in his eyes which he had once shown for me.

I said: ou want to go with him, do you not?

will take you, Christopher,added Essex.

My poor young husband! He could not hide from me where his inclination lay, though he tried to. How different from Leicester! It would never have occurred to him to turn from what he might desire or what could be advantageous to him. Oddly enough I was inclined to despise Christopher for his weakness.

ou should go,I told him.

ut how could I leave you ?

am perfectly capable of looking after myself. Go with Rob. The experience will be good for you. Is that not so, Rob?

Essex said it would be good for himself to have those about him whom he could trust.

hen it is settled,I added.

Christopher was clearly relieved. Our marriage had been happy, but I had had enough of it. I was nearly sixty years old and at times he seemed too young to interest me.

In March of that yearhe last of the centuryy son, with my husband, marched out of London. The people came into the streets to see him pass, and I must say that he looked magnificent. He was going to subdue the Irish; he was going to bring peace and glory to England; there was something godlike about him, and it was small wonder that the Queen loved him.

Unfortunately when the cavalcade reached Islington, a violent thunderstorm broke and the riders were drenched with the rain. The lightning frightened the householders into their homes where they crouched in terror, it was said, seeing in this sudden violent storm some evil omen.

I laughed at this superstition, but later even I began to wonder.

Everyone knows now of the disastrous results of that campaign. How much happier we should have all been if Essex had not undertaken it. Essex, himself, soon realized the magnitude of his task. The Irish nobility were against him, so were the priests, who held great sway over the people. He wrote to the Queen telling her that to subdue the Irish was going to be the most costly operation of her reign. There must be a strong English army, and as the Irish nobility were not averse to a little bribery, perhaps this would be the best way of bringing them to her cause.

There was an argument between the Queen and Essex about the Earl of Southampton, whom she had not forgiven for having made Elizabeth Vernon pregnant, even though he had made amends by marrying her. Essex and Southampton were close friends and Essex had made Southampton his Master of Horse in the campaignn appointment of which the Queen did not approve. She ordered Southampton to be removed from the post and this Essex was bold enough to refuse to do.

I was growing more and more apprehensive as this news reached me, not only about the growing resentment of the Queen, but the danger in which both my husband and son had placed themselves.

Penelope was always the first to hear the news and she kept me informed of what was going on. I was comforted too to have the company of my daughter Dorothy and her children. Her first husband, Sir Thomas Perrot, whom she had married so romantically, was now dead and she was married to Henry Percy, the Earl of Northumberland. This marriage, however, was not turning out well, and she was glad to come to me; and we talked sometimes of the trials and pitfalls of married life.

It seemed to me that my family was not very successful in marriage. Frances, at any rate, loved Essex. It was strange that, no matter how badly he behaved, he seemed to bind people to him. His infidelities were common knowledge, and sometimes I think he indulged in them partly to spite the Queen. His feeling towards her was strange; he loved her in a certain way. Compared with all other women, she was supreme, and it was not only the fact that she was the sovereign. I myself felt that power in her; it was almost mystic. Was it not a fact that since she had made it clear that she had no intention of taking me back into her circle, life had lost its savor? Did she know this? Perhaps. I was a proud woman and yet I had made a great effort to please her. Was she laughing to herself, telling herself that her revenge was complete? She had won the last battle; she was revenged on mehe commoner who had dared become her rival and who had scored great victories over her.

Well, that was my family. Essex was philandering with several mistresses, and Penelope was living openly with Lord Mountjoy. She had even borne him a child who had been christened Mount-joy, and she was pregnant with another. Lord Rich made no attempt to divorce her as yet, and I supposed this was due to Essex influence at Court. Had my youngest Walter lived he would have been the quiet one, the one who lived respectably with his family. But, alas, he was gone.

It was when Essex had a meeting with the rebel Tyrone and made terms with him that the storm broke. The Queen was furious that Essex had dared make terms with an enemy without first consulting her. He would do well to take care, she declared.

Essex then returned to England. How thoughtless he was! How reckless! When I look back I can see his walking carelessly step by step towards disaster. If only he would have listened to my warnings!

He reached Nonsuch Palace at ten in the morning, an hour when the Queen would be at her toilette. I think he must have been really afraid then. All his boasting about subduing Ireland was proving to be premature. He knew that his enemies at home surrounded the Queen and that they would be eager for his fall. He would let none deter him. He had to see the Queen immediately, before any could attempt to distort the facts and turn her against him. He was the great Essex, and if he wished to see the Queen at any hour he would do so.

How little he understood women!

In spite of my fears for him, I could not help laughing as I visualized that scene. A startled Elizabeth, recently risen from her bed, surrounded only by those women who were allowed to share the very intimate ceremony of her toilette.

A woman of sixty-seven does not want to be seen by a youthful admirer at such times. Essex told me afterwards that he scarcely recognized her. She was robbed of everything but her royalty. Her gray hair hung about her face, and no rouge gave the bloom to her cheeks and the sparkle to her eyes which courtiers were accustomed to see.

And there before her stood Esseximself muddy from his journey, for he had not stopped to wash or change his clothes.

She was, of course, magnificent, as she would be in any circumstances. She gave no sign that she was not adorned, with painted face, wig, ruff and fine gown. She gave him her hand to kiss and said she would see him later.

He came to me in triumph. She was his to command, he told me. He had burst into her chamber and seen her in a state of undress as, he had already heard it said, no man had seen her before. Yet she had smiled at him most graciously.

y God, she is an old woman. I did not know how old until I saw her this day.

I shook my head. I knew what she would be thinking. He had seen her in that state. I could picture her demanding a minor, and the misery in her heart when the reflection looked back at her. Perhaps for once she looked at herself as she really was and she could not in that moment, surely, pretend that she was as fresh as the young girl who had romped with Admiral Seymour and who had dallied with Robert Dudley in the Tower. They were gone, and she was left to cling desperately to that image of her youth which Essex had shattered that morning at Nonsuch. I did not believe she would easily forget that.

I begged him to go very carefully, but when she saw him again she was very gracious.

At dinner he was joined by his friends, among them both Mountjoy and Lord Rich, for neither of these two, in their friendship for Essex, bore any resentment towards each otherne being Essex sister lover, the other her husband. Raleigh, I heard, dined apart from them with his friends such as Lord Grey and the Earl of Shrewsburyormidable enemies.

Later that day Essex was summoned to the Queen, who was no longer friendly. She was annoyed that he had left Ireland without her permission and she said his conduct there had been treasonable.

He was bewildered. She had seemed kind enough to him and had been gracious when he had burst into her bedchamber. Poor Essex, sometimes I think he was the most obtuse man I ever knew. Though it is true enough that many men can be said to be so concerning the working of the female mind.

I could picture that interview. She would be seeing not the glittering figure who at that time was reflected in the mirror of the Presence Chamber, but a haggard old woman, not long risen from her bed, stripped of her adornments, her gray hair hanging about her face. Essex had seen that and she could not forgive him for it.

He was told he must remain in his chamber. He was a prisoner.

Mountjoy came to me in great dismay to report that Essex had been judged guilty of disobeying the Queen. He had left Ireland against her wishes and had boldly forced his way into her bedchamber. The Queen could not tolerate such conduct. He was to be sent to York House and there he would remain until the Queen decided what should be done.

he Court is going to Richmond,said Mountjoy. cannot understand it. She seems not to care for him any more. She has turned against him.

My heart sank with foreboding. My beloved son had gone too far at last. Yet I could understand her. She could no longer bear near her a man who had seen her as the old woman she was. I had always known that she was the vainest woman in her kingdom and that she lived in a dream where she was as beautiful as her sycophantic courtiers proclaimed her to be.

Essex had disobeyed her. He had made havoc of the Irish campaign. All that could have been forgiven. But having torn the mask of disbelief from her eyes, having looked on that which no man was intended to see, he had committed the unforgivable sin.

We were anxious about him. He was very sick. The dysentery which had attacked him in Irelandnd which those who did not believe Leicester had killed his father were sure had been the end of himersisted. He could not eat; he could not sleep. We had this news from those who attended him, for we were not allowed to go to him.

Christopher returned in great haste to England. He came to me at once and I was glad to see him safe. But there could be no great joy in our reunion for both of us could feel very little but fear for Essex.

We were all terrified that he would be sent to the Tower.

Mountjoy was constantly at Leicester House. I knew that Essex had been, for some time, in correspondence with the King of Scotland, and Mountjoy and Penelope with him, to assure that monarch that they were in favor of his inheriting the throne on the death of the Queen. I had always felt this correspondence to be dangerous, for if the letters had fallen into the hands of the Queen she and others would have construed them as treason. Leicester would never have been so careless. I thought of those occasions when he had found himself in risky situations and how dexterously he had always made sure to cover his tracks. If only my son would listen to me; if only he would profit from what I had to tell him! But what was the use? It was not his nature to listen, nor would he have practiced caution if he had.

Now Mountjoy was making plans for Essex to escape from York House and go to France. Southampton, on whose account Essex had incurred the Queen wrath, declared he would go with him.