He was growing old. He was not the man he had been. Some of his ardor for living had deserted him.
Kat was alone with her mistress and, said Kat, this was like the old days before her dearest Majesty was called Her Majesty in public, and only in private by those who loved her.
“I remember it, Kat,” said Elizabeth.
“And the cards, dearest lady?”
“Aye, and the cards.”
“And now we have Master Cornelius Lanoy working for us to produce his elixir, you no longer have need of poor old Kat Ashley to look into the cards for you.”
“Will he produce it, think you, Kat?”
“If he should do what he says he will, dearest, he will find an elixir which will give eternal life and youth! Make sure that none but your own darling lips drink of it, for if it becomes common property that will do us little good. With everyone perpetually living and perpetually young, it would be as though Time stood still.”
“Nay,” said the Queen, “it shall only be Elizabeth who drinks of Lanoy’s mixture; but perhaps I’ll let my dear old Kat have a sip for old times’ sake.”
“Just a sip, Madam!”
“Mayhap two sips, for where should I be without you? If I am to live forever I must have Kat with me.”
“The man is a fraud, Madam.”
“Is it so then, Kat? Perhaps you are right.”
“You believe in him because Your Majesty believes that all the good you hope for will come to pass. Mayhap therein lies the secret of greatness. Others say ‘It cannot be.’ Great Bess says ‘It shall be!’ And because she is a witch and a goddess, there is good chance that she will be right.”
“You talk like a courtier, Kat.”
“Why, my love, you’ve lost another aglet from your gown. ’Tis the ruby and diamond, I’ll swear. And I wanted to fix it on the cloth of gold you’ll be wearing this night. And do I talk like a courtier then? But courtiers no longer talk as they once did.”
“What means that?”
“That one, who talked better than any and whose words pleased Your Majesty more than any I know of, is no longer with us.”
Elizabeth was silent.
“He is sad, I trow, to be away from Court,” said Kat.
“Doubtless he amuses himself with the women round Kenilworth!” snapped Elizabeth.
“You should not be jealous of Lettice Knollys, my darling.”
Elizabeth swung round, her eyes blazing and shining with tears; she slapped Kat sharply. Kat put her hand to her cheek and grimaced.
Then she said: “’Tis a pity. That ruby and diamond aglet will be lost, I swear; and it makes the pair.”
“Oh, be silent!”
Kat obeyed, and after a while Elizabeth burst out: “Why do you stand there sulking? Why do you not speak of him if you wish to?”
“Have I your gracious permission to speak of the man, Your Majesty?”
“What is it you have to say of him?”
“That it is sad to see Your Majesty fretting for him.”
“I fret for him! Leave fretting to that she-wolf!”
“To whom, Your Majesty?”
“That harlot, that lewd woman, that Lettice … or whatever her name is. She married some man … Hereford, was it? I pity him! I pity him!”
“Ah!” sighed Kat. “It is a sorry thing to see a man, once proud, fall low. The dogs are at his throat now, my lady. They’ll drag him to death and disgrace, if I mistake not.”
“Dogs! What dogs?”
Kat whispered: “His great and mighty Grace of Norfolk. My lord of Sussex. My lord of Arundel. They are the dogs who will tear our pretty gentleman to pieces. Does Your Majesty not know that they have taken John Appleyard and put the man to question? He swears that he helped to cover up the murder of his half-sister for the sake of Robert Dudley.”
Elizabeth was staring straight ahead. It must not be. Old scandal must not be revived. Amy Robsart must not be dragged from her grave to smirch the Queen’s honor.
“So,” went on Kat, “I say it is a sad thing to see a great man brought low. Why, those are tears in your sweet eyes, my darling. There! There! It matters not that your Kat sees them. Do you think you deceived her? You love him, and you think he loves Lettice better … or would if she were the Queen.”
Elizabeth laid her head suddenly on Kat’s shoulder. She murmured with a catch in her voice: “The Court is so dull without him, Kat. These … these others …”
“They are not the same, my love.”
“No one is the same, Kat. We were together in the Tower, were we not. Can I forget him?”
“Of course you cannot.”
“Heneage …”
Kat blew contempt in imitation of her royal mistress.
“A pretty man,” she said, “nothing more. The lioness amuses herself with a pretty puppy. But they’ll have the people against my lord of Leicester, dearest Majesty. The dogs are at his throat. They’ll say: ‘The lioness has left him to his fate, and he is wounded …’”
Elizabeth stood up. Her eyes were shining, for she felt it to be good when inclination and common sense could march together. “We’ll have him back at Court,” she said. “I’ll recall him. I’ll not let the dogs get him, Kat. You shall see how they go slinking away. As for Master Appleyard, he shall wish he had never left his orchards! Kat, there must be no more scandal, though. He must have done with his arrogance. I’ll not brook that.”
“Shall I look at the cards?” suggested Kat.
“Nay, not now. He shall just return to Court as a gentleman we have missed. It is merely because he has so many enemies that I shall have him back. I would not wish it to be thought that I forgot those I once loved.”
“And still love?” said Kat quietly.
So he came back to Court and his enemies retreated.
John Appleyard confessed that he had been offered a reward to speak against Robert; he admitted that his brother-in-law had been very generous to him in the past, and that it was since he had fallen into disfavor that his gifts had ceased. Had John Appleyard whispered against the Earl of Leicester when he had been accepting those gifts? He had not. So it was only when he did not receive them that he thought unkindly of his generous brother-in-law? John Appleyard was glad to slip back into obscurity.
The affair of Amy’s death was not to be revived.
Rumor started up again. Was the Queen contemplating marriage with Leicester? She had dropped Heneage now, and appeared to have no special favorite. She must marry someone soon. Did she think that because she was a Queen she could defy the passing of time?
When Parliament was opened and the Queen asked for certain monies which she needed for her exchequer, she was met by stern opposition from the House of Commons.
It was pointed out to her that she was still unmarried and that the country needed an heir. The Commons refused to discuss the money bill unless the Queen would give her word to marry without further delay. There was an alternative; if she was set against marriage so strongly that she would not undertake it, she must name her successor. There was a great deal of argument; blows were exchanged in the House. The Commons, in an ugly mood, finally approached the Lords, demanding that they join them in their stand against the Queen; and this the Lords, after some hesitation, decided to do.
Elizabeth might accept what she called insults from the Commons, but she would not from the Lords.
Robert, understanding now that it would be wise for him—as there was no hope of marrying her himself—to support the marriage with the Archduke Charles, allied himself with the Lords and Commons. He knew that, if he did not, he would stand alone, and he was no longer sure of the Queen. During his exile, he had discovered the power of his enemies. He surmised that this was really what she wished him to do, for his exile had been partly due to her wish to show foreign powers that she had no intention of marrying him. He had been greatly heartened by her summons to return to Court, and it had been wonderful to realize that when he appeared to be deserted and his enemies ready to attack, she should have come to his aid. Yet she herself had been involved in the scandal attached to Amy’s death, and her motive in recalling him might not have been entirely due to her wish to see him back at Court. He must play her game, which was, after all, out of necessity, his own. So now he ranged himself with those who were urging her either to marry, or name her successor.