Read Online Roses Have Thorns: A Novel of Elizabeth I by Sandra Byrd - Free Book Online
Authors: Sandra Byrd
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von Snakenborg?”
“Yes, Majesty?” I said sleepily from the trundled bed at the foot of her bed of state.
“I prefer the marjoram-scented water you bathed in this evening. It leaves a soothing scent upon my linens and I believe I shall sleep most soundly.”
“If it pleases Your Majesty, I shall ensure to use it each time I am called to serve you in this manner,” I said.
Mary Radcliffe had had nary a word for me before that, but that night she sent a smile in my direction, visible by moonlight. The next day, I asked Blanche Parry if I might ask Mrs. Morgaynne, who was the queen’s apothecary, for some essence of marjoram to add to my own store of herbs and essences. “I shall sprinkle someupon Her Majesty’s linens each night whether or not it’s my turn to warm the bed.” Blanche Parry readily agreed.
There was no comfortable rest to be found in the week after, as we waited upon her in her Privy Chamber, where she was haranguing some of her councilors ahead of her presentation to Parliament. “Though I be a woman, yet I have as good a courage, answerable to my place, as ever my father had,” she scolded them all.
“Majesty,” Lord Robert began, “Mr. Molyneux has suggested that the money you have requested should be given only upon the contingency that Your Grace makes a declaration about your successor. This motion was very well approved by the greater part of the House!”
“It would be wise to consider it, Your Highness,” William said softly. “They mean it for your good, and the good of the realm. They want a successor named.”
“Was I not born in the realm? Were my parents born in any foreign country?” she demanded. “Is there any cause I should alienate myself from being careful over this country? Is not my kingdom here? Whom have I oppressed? How have I governed since my reign began?”
She sat down upon her chair of state, her stomacher pressing into her, bosom heaving. “I will marry as soon as I can conveniently. And as to the succession—I stood in danger of my life, my sister was so incensed against me. I did differ from her in religion, and for that I was sought for diverse ways from plotters and overthrowers. So I shall never name my successor, who may will to unseat me !”
She calmed and continued. “Some would speak for their master, some for their mistress, and every man for his friend. But my very life would become a target. Men foment about the second when the second is known. I know this better than any in the realm. As yourprince and head, we must be left to judge the timing of the move, without prompting from our subjects. For it is monstrous that the feet should direct the head.”
No reassurance was forthcoming from those “feet” she trusted most. She waved to silence Cecil, her secretary of state and most trusted principal advisor, who’d begun to speak, then turned to my marquess. “Northampton,” she said to my great horror, “methinks you had better talk about the arguments used to enable you to get married again, to yon lady”—she looked toward me— “when you have a wife living, instead of mincing words with us.”
She rounded toward Lord Robert and said, “We had thought that if all the world abandoned us, you would not have done so.”
“I am ready to die at your feet, madam!” Lord Robert protested. He, more than any, would press her to marriage. With himself, if it could be!
“That has nothing to do with the matter.”
She loudly banned them entrance to the Presence Chamber and stormed off, calling for the comfort, of all persons, of the Spanish ambassador. We ladies, of course, said nothing at all, as was our place, but quietly slipped down the corridor.
• • •
By June the storm seemed to have lifted and the queen was dancing and making merry after dinner when Cecil took her aside and whispered something in her ear. Her face, normally pale, waxed into a death mask. She left the room immediately, and we ladies
“Yes, Majesty?” I said sleepily from the trundled bed at the foot of her bed of state.
“I prefer the marjoram-scented water you bathed in this evening. It leaves a soothing scent upon my linens and I believe I shall sleep most soundly.”
“If it pleases Your Majesty, I shall ensure to use it each time I am called to serve you in this manner,” I said.
Mary Radcliffe had had nary a word for me before that, but that night she sent a smile in my direction, visible by moonlight. The next day, I asked Blanche Parry if I might ask Mrs. Morgaynne, who was the queen’s apothecary, for some essence of marjoram to add to my own store of herbs and essences. “I shall sprinkle someupon Her Majesty’s linens each night whether or not it’s my turn to warm the bed.” Blanche Parry readily agreed.
There was no comfortable rest to be found in the week after, as we waited upon her in her Privy Chamber, where she was haranguing some of her councilors ahead of her presentation to Parliament. “Though I be a woman, yet I have as good a courage, answerable to my place, as ever my father had,” she scolded them all.
“Majesty,” Lord Robert began, “Mr. Molyneux has suggested that the money you have requested should be given only upon the contingency that Your Grace makes a declaration about your successor. This motion was very well approved by the greater part of the House!”
“It would be wise to consider it, Your Highness,” William said softly. “They mean it for your good, and the good of the realm. They want a successor named.”
“Was I not born in the realm? Were my parents born in any foreign country?” she demanded. “Is there any cause I should alienate myself from being careful over this country? Is not my kingdom here? Whom have I oppressed? How have I governed since my reign began?”
She sat down upon her chair of state, her stomacher pressing into her, bosom heaving. “I will marry as soon as I can conveniently. And as to the succession—I stood in danger of my life, my sister was so incensed against me. I did differ from her in religion, and for that I was sought for diverse ways from plotters and overthrowers. So I shall never name my successor, who may will to unseat me !”
She calmed and continued. “Some would speak for their master, some for their mistress, and every man for his friend. But my very life would become a target. Men foment about the second when the second is known. I know this better than any in the realm. As yourprince and head, we must be left to judge the timing of the move, without prompting from our subjects. For it is monstrous that the feet should direct the head.”
No reassurance was forthcoming from those “feet” she trusted most. She waved to silence Cecil, her secretary of state and most trusted principal advisor, who’d begun to speak, then turned to my marquess. “Northampton,” she said to my great horror, “methinks you had better talk about the arguments used to enable you to get married again, to yon lady”—she looked toward me— “when you have a wife living, instead of mincing words with us.”
She rounded toward Lord Robert and said, “We had thought that if all the world abandoned us, you would not have done so.”
“I am ready to die at your feet, madam!” Lord Robert protested. He, more than any, would press her to marriage. With himself, if it could be!
“That has nothing to do with the matter.”
She loudly banned them entrance to the Presence Chamber and stormed off, calling for the comfort, of all persons, of the Spanish ambassador. We ladies, of course, said nothing at all, as was our place, but quietly slipped down the corridor.
• • •
By June the storm seemed to have lifted and the queen was dancing and making merry after dinner when Cecil took her aside and whispered something in her ear. Her face, normally pale, waxed into a death mask. She left the room immediately, and we ladies
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