Chapter 33 #3
On St. George’s Day, Elizabeth bestowed the Order of the Garter upon Dudley and the three senior peers of the realm, the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquess of Northampton, and the Earl of Rutland.
Kate, waiting on Elizabeth with the other ladies, thought it evident from the frosty demeanor of the three great lords that they were furious about the honor being given to Dudley, which was understandable, for they had long offered the Queen good service in various ways, while he was the son and grandson of upstart traitors.
His only qualifications for the honor were good looks, superb horsemanship—and the love of his sovereign.
By now, he was freely dispensing patronage to a growing clientele of his supporters at court—sycophants who otherwise would never have given him the time of day.
In the privy chamber, his word was law. The councillors, Francis told Kate, were outraged.
But Elizabeth fondly tolerated this situation, although she never permitted Dudley to forget who was mistress and who was servant, and was not above reminding him of it in front of others.
Many were suspicious of his motives and resentful of his overfamiliarity with her.
The nobles reviled him as an upstart, while others thought him a self-seeker who was professing love for the Queen only to further his own ambitions.
Yet Kate could sense that the love between them was genuine on both sides.
There was no escaping the warmth and sincerity in Lord Robert’s voice when he spoke to Elizabeth or his obvious concern for her well-being.
With others, he was haughty and reserved, but in her company, he was affability itself.
The strong sexual rapport between them was evident.
“Isn’t Lord Robert handsome?” the Queen asked her ladies one day as they watched him playing bowls beneath her window.
They all dutifully agreed.
“I love his courage and his manliness,” she went on. “It will please me to tame this charmer and make him my creature, for he is everything that a man should be. His presence uplifts my spirits; I must see him every day.”
She was fond of giving nicknames to the men who served her. Cecil was her “Spirit.” She now took to calling Lord Robert her “Eyes.” He lapped it up like cream.
Kate suspected that he had one supreme advantage over all Elizabeth’s other male admirers.
He could not offer her marriage, so she had the best of both worlds.
With his wife safely living in the country, the Queen could enjoy all the advantages of male companionship without having to commit herself to marriage, the loss of her independence, or the surrender of her body.
As a single woman, she could remain in control of the relationship, whereas if she married, she would be subject to her husband’s will.
She could also preserve the image of herself she was carefully nurturing, that of “the Virgin Queen.” Her courtiers had become fond of playing guessing games to determine if she really deserved the name.
Kate wondered if Lord Robert was entertaining hopes that he would one day marry Elizabeth.
If his wife was indeed dying, the time would come when he would be free to offer himself as a consort to the Queen—an irresistible prospect for an ambitious man.
For the present, however, he seemed content to bask in her favor and enjoy the benefits it brought.
He must know that it was essential to keep it, for without Elizabeth’s affection, he would be at the mercy of the noble wolves who were waiting to devour him.
—
In May, the Emperor’s ambassador, Baron Breuner, arrived in England.
“Not the most crafty person in the world,” Elizabeth pronounced. Kate, present at the audiences, watched her run rings around him. When he nervously laid the Archduke Charles’s proposal of marriage before her, she betrayed no emotion.
“I thank the Emperor for deeming me worthy of his son,” she said, “but I would remind your Excellency that, although my subjects continually exhort me to marry, I have never set my heart upon anyone, nor wished to marry at all—although I might change my mind, for I am but human and not insensible to human emotions and impulses.”
Breuner was dismissed, looking crestfallen, and Kate was glad when the Queen retired with her ladies to her chamber, because she was still suffering the fatigue of pregnancy and had an irresistible need to sleep.
She was trying her hardest to stay awake when Elizabeth snapped her fingers and told her to buck up and attend her again in the presence chamber because Bishop de Quadra, the Spanish ambassador, was demanding to see her.
“Breuner’s got at him,” she muttered, sweeping through the door with Kate in her wake, suppressing a yawn.
“Yes?” she barked, as the Spaniard bowed.
“I understand that your Majesty is concerned about the Archduke Charles’s views on religion. My information is that he might be thinking of leaving the Catholic Church.”
Kate detected a flicker of interest in Elizabeth’s eyes, but the Queen remained dismissive.
“That is immaterial. I would rather be a nun than marry without knowing the man, nor do I wish to rely on the faithfulness of a portrait painter. I have heard rumors that the Archduke has an abnormally large head, and I dare not risk accepting a deformed husband.”
“That is not the case at all,” de Quadra reassured her smoothly, but he was wasting his words.
“Your Excellency, I will never marry unless it be to a worthy man whom I have met and spoken to.”
Kate suppressed a smile. It was highly unlikely that any prince would risk coming to England to be inspected and risk the humiliation of being sent away. Royal marriages were never made like that.
Elizabeth knew it, of course. She gave de Quadra a sly glance. “Might I suggest that the Archduke comes here? Would he agree to that?”
“He would come out of love for your Majesty, but it is doubtful if the Emperor will send his son on approval. Indeed, Madam, it is a most unusual request.”
Elizabeth smiled at him. “I am sure the Emperor will understand my position, as a maiden queen.”
—
The Emperor did not. He refused to send his son to England. But Breuner persisted.
Elizabeth told Kate and Kat that he had laid the proposal before the Council.
“I’ll heed their advice, but only on condition that I will be able to see and know the man who is to be my husband before I accept any offer of marriage.”
“Then you’ll be wasting your breath,” Kat commented tartly.
Elizabeth gave her one of her looks. “In that case, I’ll tell Breuner that I will not marry at all for the present, but that God, with whom all things are possible, might change my mind in the future. I hope the Emperor will respect my honesty.”
Francis told Kate that the lords were becoming increasingly exasperated with the Queen’s mercurial changes of opinion and her “answers answerless,” as she delighted in calling them.
“The Emperor will most likely be offended and upset by her attitude,” he fretted, taking Kate’s hand as they strolled along a gravel path between railed flower beds.
“Breuner is in a terrible state, not knowing if there is any point in pursuing this marriage business. In truth, Kate, her Majesty is impossible. One day she blows cold, the next she is paying Breuner every attention, flattering him and even flirting with him. The poor man hardly knows what to think. His chief concern is that she might accept someone else as a husband.”
“Prince Erik of Sweden?”
“Who knows? She praised his portrait highly.”
“She was very taken with a letter he sent with a passionate declaration of love.”
“Yet she has told him that he will have to leave his country to marry her. She said she would not leave hers for any consideration in the world. But it is not realistic for a monarch to abandon his kingdom.”
No, it wasn’t, and Kate was not surprised when Elizabeth turned Erik down. By then, she was entertaining proposals from the dukes of Saxony and Holstein, spinning things out in her usual way.
But there, in the background all the time, was Lord Robert.
“Baron Breuner is very concerned about the Queen’s regard for Lord Robert,” Francis murmured one night when, for once—oh, joy—he and Kate lay together. “He is fishing to find out if the councillors believe there is any truth in the rumors that they have bedded together.”
“That’s odd, because one of his servants approached me today,” Kate told him.
The man had been lurking in the gallery when she left the Queen’s lodgings to go to dinner.
“Excuse me, my lady,” he’d said, looming before her, so that she was obliged to stop. “My master, Baron Breuner, has asked me to ask you about the rumors concerning her Majesty and a certain gentleman.”
Kate bristled. “Which gentleman?”
“Lord Robert Dudley. You have heard these rumors, surely?”
“I have heard baseless gossip,” she retorted.
“Yet you must agree that your mistress shows her liking for him more markedly than is consistent with her reputation and dignity?”
“Does she?” Kate was cautious. “I know for a certainty that she has never been forgetful of her honor.” It was a lie, because she had no idea what went on when the Queen and Dudley were alone together.
She recounted this to Francis.
“You answered well,” he said. “In future, you should refuse to listen to such questions.”
“I will. I would have done so today, but that man took me off my guard.”
Suddenly, there was a fluttering in her belly.
“Ooh,” she exclaimed. “Darling, feel that.” She guided his hand to the place. “There!”
The fluttering came again, like a trapped butterfly. “The babe has quickened!”
“God be praised!” he declared, kissing her. Then he paused. “You have to tell the Queen.”
“I know. She will not like it.”