A PAGEANT AT WHITEHALL
During the four years which had elapsed since that day when Robert Carr had fallen in the tiltyard at Whitehall he had been the King’s constant companion, and it was a source of great irritation to many at Court that the young man remained the first favorite.
Robert, although far from intellectual, had proved himself to possess a shrewd intelligence. He was humble in the King’s presence—a welcome change from the manners of some of the petted boys of the past; he admitted that he was no scholar and confessed that he doubted whether he ever would be. But James replied that although he was without knowledge of literature and had had little experience, his dear boy was possessed of a calm, clear mind, which enabled him to reason with logic. He liked well his manners, and his company was the most enjoyable at Court.
Robert made a great effort not to annoy important ministers: he was never arrogant toward them; and when they begged him to lay this or that petition before the King he would always promise to do his best. In time they began to say of him: “There could be worse. And if the King must have a lap-dog this is the best breed.”
Robert was becoming ambitious. He believed that in time he would occupy some of the highest posts in the kingdom. James had as much as promised that he should.
“When ye’ve acquired a little more nous, Robbie.”
In the meantime his doting benefactor had knighted him, had given him a fine estate and promised him a rich wife. The Lady Anne Clifford’s name had been mentioned in this connection.
Robert had not been eager to marry, and he fancied that his reluctance had not displeased his master. Robert was content to wait. He believed that a great fortune could be his and that he must approach it step by cautious step.
When the Earl of Northampton, that wily statesman, had decided to win his friendship, Robert had met him more than half way. Northampton—the secret Catholic—wanted alliance with Spain and believed Robert might help him to it. Robert was flattered by the attention of the old man but was sorry that, because of it, the Queen disliked him more than ever; and because Prince Henry supported his mother, that meant that the Prince was his enemy.
But Robert shrugged aside this unpleasant fact. He knew that Prince Henry would have been his enemy in any case because he hated all his father’s favorites.
The climb was slow but steady; and each week saw the King’s affection deepen.
But one day when they walked together in the gardens of Whitehall, James talked seriously to Robert.
“Robbie,” he said, “I’d make ye my secretary if you were more nimble with your pen. But as you are, laddie, it’s difficult. Now if you had a clever scribe who could answer correspondence in your name … why then ’twould be an easy matter. Ah, how I wish ye’d stuck at your lessons when you were a wee mannie.”
Robert was thoughtful. There was a suggestion behind the King’s words which he might have thought of before.
A great ceremony was taking place at the Palace of Whitehall and the Queen declared again and again that rarely had she been so happy in the whole of her life.
There were to be days of rejoicing, as was only fitting; and there was nothing Anne enjoyed more than balls and masques. Inigo Jones had been summoned and given the task of turning Whitehall into a magic setting for all the pageants and spectacles which would be devised by poets such as Daniels and Jonson.
This was the occasion when her elder son would be invested with the title, Prince of Wales.
James looked on with amusement. Such frivolities were scarcely in his line; but it was better for his subjects to spend their time in masking than in plotting. The Queen was happy, and he liked to see her so. As for his children, he was proud of them—every one of them; and now that little Charles was walking like a normal boy and had almost overcome the impediment in his speech, he reckoned he could forget the four they had lost, in the three they had. Such a handsome trio too. Where did they get their good looks? From their paternal grandmother, he supposed. That was it. The beauty of Mary Queen of Scots had missed her son and passed on to her grandchildren.
James called on the Queen, knowing that it would be a pleasant call at such a time. He found her in the center of a bustle, ordering her women to do this and that; almost hysterical, he thought, in her excitement.
“Well, my dear,” said James, “one would think this was all in honor of you.”
She turned to him, her eyes shining and for a moment he felt old sentiments stirring; she looked like the young girl whom he had crossed the seas to woo. It occurred to him that he had grown old and Anne had stayed young. He did not envy her. Poor creature, he thought, she has the mind of a child.
“It is to honor me,” she cried. “When I see my beautiful one given these honors, they will be mine too.”
“You love the boy,” said James with a smile, “and so do I, for all that he sets himself against me.”
Anne looked petulant. “Henry would never set himself against Your Majesty if—”
“If I acted in a manner which would win his approval? He is but sixteen, wife. I’m a little more than that. Much as I should like to please you—and him—I must still make my own decisions. But enough of that. Tell me of this masque. Is Jonson giving us some fine poetry, eh? I like that man’s work. And Daniel’s too. And what of Inigo?”
“You will see all in good time,” Anne told him. “And I have a surprise for you. He is very excited about it. I do hope he won’t be too excited. After all it is but a short time since—”
“Charles?”
She pouted. “There, you have guessed and ’twill be no surprise.”
“Dinna fret. I’ll store the little matter at the back of my mind and be astonished when I see him. It gives me pleasure every time I set eyes on that boy.”
Anne’s petulance disappeared and her face was almost beautiful in her maternal love. “It is a miracle,” she said. “I cannot thank Lady Carey enough. She has given so much to him.”
“We’ll not forget her for it.”
“She has been rewarded, but her greatest reward is to look at him. I could not have done more myself. She gave him the confidence, the tenderness, the love. Oh James, I love that woman, although she usurped my place. I should have been the one.”
James patted her hand. “But ye’re too much of a mother to be jealous of her. What matters it? The task was done. And I’m to see young Charles dance at his brother’s ceremony, eh?”
“But it was to be a secret, James!”
“Oh, aye, I mind that. There’ll be no one more astounded to see Charlie dance than the King of England.”
Prince Henry, who had his own private establishment at Richmond, came by state barge to Westminster.
It was a glorious May day and the river was as smooth as silk. Lady-smocks and cuckoo flowers decorated the banks and there was pink apple blossom in the orchards of those gardens which ran down to the water. Henry was no longer a boy, being sixteen; old enough to be given the first title under the King: Prince of Wales.
His mind was filled with ideals as he sailed down the river on that day; the spires and steeples of the capital touched him with emotion. One day he would be ruler of this land; and he was determined to make it great. He would devote himself to the task of kingship. He would be zealous, yet modest. He would choose his ministers with care; he would dismiss men such as Northampton, whom he suspected of working for Spain, and Suffolk and his wife who he knew used their positions to enrich themselves; there would be no room at Court for men such as Robert Carr. On the other hand his first task would be to release his dear friend Sir Walter Raleigh from the Tower. Such men who had proved their worth should be his premier advisers. England would be a different country under him. And today, this solemn ceremony would be the first step toward the change. Life could not stand still. He was young yet, but this day he would cease to be a boy and become a man of consequence to his country.