Queen of This Realm - Plaidy Jean (читать бесплатно книги без сокращений .txt) 📗
My one thought was to get rid of him as quickly as possible. I could not bear that he should see me thus. How different I must look from that scintillating goddess in her jeweled gowns and ruffs and her magnificent curling red hair. He was trying not to look at me. Even he must spare a thought from his own affairs to realize how I was feeling.
I sat very still and spoke gently to him because it was the quickest way of getting rid of him. I would see him later, I said softly. He could tell me everything then.
After he went, I sat very still, trembling with the shock of what had happened. I took up a hand mirror and looked at myself. It was horrible. My face was drained of color. My hair straggled about my shoulders—gray and scanty. I looked what I was—a tired old woman.
How dared he come bursting in like that! Did he think he could behave as the whim took him and that I would forgive him?
I thought: Essex, you have gone too far this time. I will never forgive you for this.
I WAS ESPECIALLY careful with my toilette and when I was ready to go into the Presence Chamber I was sparkling with jewels. There was the faintest color in my cheeks, which gave a brightness to my eyes. Was it anger against this man who had dared see me in my natural state? No man had ever seen me like that before. I had thought none ever would. And he had dared! No, I would never forgive him for that. Always when I saw him I would see myself … old … unadorned … with nothing of beauty left to me.
He was there. His eyes alight with excitement. I thought: By God's Holy Son, he believes that he only has to smile on me and I am his slave. In his mind I am no queen for he stands above me.
You will never have to learn a harder lesson than you will learn now, my Lord Essex, I thought.
He knelt before me. I gave him my hand which he fervently kissed. He raised his eyes to look at me but my gaze was fixed over his head in the distance.
“My fairest Queen …” he began.
I said coolly: “You may rise, Essex.”
“I came to you,” he began breathlessly. “There is so much to tell you…”
I replied shortly: “You may tell it to the Council.”
He was taken aback. I saw the deep color flood his face. He could not believe that I had spoken to him thus.
I turned to Robert Cecil and engaged him in conversation. Essex fell back, a sullen, angry expression on his face. All those present were watchful. They had expected me to give him a warm welcome, and that the erring young man would once more be forgiven his sins and be taken back into favor. But they did not know what he had seen that morning. I should never forget it, though. Every time I saw him, I should remember. And I did not want to be reminded.
HE WAS QUESTIONED by the Council and his answers brought to me. I said that I found them unsatisfactory and this was the general opinion.
It was decided that he should remain in confinement at York House. I traveled down to Richmond with the Court and tried not to think of Essex. I daresay I was sharper with my ladies than ever. I was never happy until I was fully dressed in all my finery, and yet I hesitated long over the gown I should wear. There were, I think, about two thousand of them to choose from. Then there was the wig to be selected from my collection of eighty.
Only when I was fully dressed and a shining sparkling vision looked back at me from the mirror could I feel a little happier.
But I did not want to think of Essex and I certainly did not want to see him.
When I heard that he was ill, I laughed. Was he not always ill when life turned against him? Oh I know Robert had been the same. How many times had I hurried to him to tend him when there was some disagreement between us? Yet I had never blamed him. How could I, when I myself had used the device often enough? I had always smiled indulgently at Robert's illnesses because they showed me he could not bear to be out of favor. He used to be really desperate when he was.
But Essex… now, if he were ill, then he deserved to be. He had been arrogant and too sure of himself. How dared he imagine he knew what was best for Ireland when he had gone there and made a bigger mess of it than any of his predecessors? But most of all how dared he come dashing into my bedchamber when I was unprepared to receive him!
Old Lady Walsingham came to me. I greeted her warmly. She had been a good wife to my dear Moor. She begged me to allow Essex to write to his wife who had just had a baby.
I said coolly: “He is under restraint. It is not permitted for those who are confined as he is to write letters. Moreover the Countess of Essex will surely not wish to hear from one who has treated her with such little regard. He is no more a faithful husband than a faithful subject.”
Lady Walsingham wept, but I hardened my heart. He had treated poor Frances badly. I doubted he had bothered to write many letters to her when he was in Ireland.
Frances herself sent me a jewel in the hope that the bauble would soften my heart toward her husband. Foolish girl! I had jewels in plenty—and in any case nothing would soften my heart toward a young man who had seen me as he had. She should have more pride than to sue for him, considering the manner in which he had treated her, preferring the beds of his mistresses to hers and blatantly letting her know it. I sent the jewel back.
His sisters Penelope and Dorothy dressed themselves in black and came to plead for him. I did receive them, for I saw at once that they were greatly concerned for their brother. It was amazing what affection he had inspired.
I spoke to them gently and said that I understood their anxiety. Their brother was a most misguided young man. He had disobeyed my orders and his case was in the hands of the Council.
Penelope cried out that in my great mercy I could save him. I surveyed her coldly and said: “The Queen is not told by her subjects what she can and cannot do.”
She was aghast. She thought she had done harm to her brother's cause, which she was trying so hard to plead, and I said more kindly: “You may go. His fate is in the hands of the Council. I understand your grief. You are bold because you are fond of him.”
They went away heartened. They thought I had received them kindly and that was a good sign.
But I did not want to see him again because I knew that when I did, I would see myself in his eyes.
A rather disturbing matter arose at this time.
A certain John Hayward had written a book called The History of Henri IV. He had dedicated this book to Essex and had written a dedication in it in which he compared Essex with Bolingbroke. This had caused a ripple of excitement considering the position in which Essex now found himself. Cecil had been horrified at the book and others had found it to be distinctly subversive. Cecil thought there was in it an incitement to rebellion. As a result Hayward was put in the Tower.
Essex was brought before a court in York House and charged with making a dishonorable and dangerous treaty with the Earl of Tyrone, and also with contempt for the government. He had promoted the Earl of Southampton against the wishes of the Queen and Council and had distributed knighthoods when he had no authority to do so. It must have been galling to Essex to have the learned Counsel Francis Bacon taking part in the proceedings against him. It was not a trial, being entirely informal, and I believe that afterward Bacon tried to justify himself for speaking against the man who regarded him as a friend, by stating that in acting in this manner he was able to retain the Queen's confidence, which he hoped later to use in Essex's favor. However, the result of the tribunal was that Essex was dismissed from all the offices he held, and was to remain a prisoner in York House until further notice.
I could not forget him as I should have liked to. I had loved him, even though I knew his character to be too simple to give him any hope of fulfilling his high ambitions. He was too passionate and too candid; he was like a blundering but endearing schoolboy at his most charming; at his worst he was almost oafish. He was politically ignorant; he was vain in the extreme and there was no doubt that he had the power to fascinate the opposite sex. There had been many times when I had treated him as a lover—almost as I had Leicester; but he did not see it as a game I was playing. He had the myopia of the small mind which sees itself as a giant among pygmies. It was ridiculous for such a man to believe he could pit his wits against men such as Cecil. What a fool he had been. And because women liked him, he thought he could dominate me.
