Read Online Roses Have Thorns: A Novel of Elizabeth I by Sandra Byrd - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Sandra Byrd
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followed her.
She dismissed all but Lady Knollys, Blanche, Anne Russell Dudley, Mary Radcliffe, and myself.
As we helped her undress, silent tears slid down her face,coursing through the light powder she’d been made up with, streaking the faint sheen of whipped egg white that held said powder in place and smoothed her first wrinkles.
“Our cousin, the Queen of Scots, has given birth to a fair son,” she said. Our hearts broke for her. Queen Mary had provided her kingdom, and if the plotters were satisfied, perhaps Elizabeth’s kingdom, with a prized heir, which meant stability, continuity, surety. A male heir was what the English desired but which our queen was as of yet unable or unwilling to provide.
As I readied myself for bed that evening, I, like the queen, wondered if I should ever have a child of my own, something I had greatly desired since my own girlhood. I had recently realized that William had been married twice and had not yet sired a child.
• • •
Almost every summer, barring illness or plague, the queen would journey through and stay at some of the towns and estates in her kingdom, greeting the common people she held with motherly affection and being entertained by her courtiers. That summer on Progress, we stayed for some time at Lord Robert’s estates in Kenilworth. Some said that the queen was his wife in all but name, but I, having slept in her room and observed how impossible it would be to be in the queen’s presence alone, vigorously disagreed. We women surrounded her chambers night and day, and anyone who thought the queen could be expertly redressed by an unpracticed man, alone, had not been present in her bedchamber when the hour-long gowning and pinning was under way.
I would admit, though, that they oft strolled together in the public gardens at Kenilworth unmolested by courtiers or othersubjects. One afternoon William and I were arm in arm enjoying the roses when we came upon Robin, as she called Lord Robert, and the queen. I wondered if this Robin was a songbird she would like to cage, and was about to jest about it with William, but stopped myself. I did not think he would find it particularly amusing, as he was not given to either wry humor or to Lord Robert. As we passed them and I curtseyed, I thought I spied a faint bit of beard burn upon the queen’s fair and smiling face. Though I could not be certain, I hoped it was true. Every lady deserved to be kissed.
We stayed at many manors and in many towns on Progress. Her people, her “children,” came to greet her with poems and poesies at each stop along the way. In Sandwich the good housewives had prepared a feast for the queen of 140 dishes, and to the horror of William Cecil, she tasted of them all without first having her taster test them for poisons. Instead, she indicated loudly enough to bring honor to all who had prepared them that some of them should be reserved for her and brought back to her lodgings for private consumption, which put a satisfied, and adoring, smile on the face of each and every townswoman.
The queen listened attentively to the Latin discourse of a young scholar in Norwich, declaring it to be among the finest speeches she had ever heard. I rather thought that the young man would have taken up arms for her then and there if it had been required. She praised all and berated none.
Late that evening, as we were unpinning her gown, Lady Knollys commented on the time the queen took with each of her subjects.
“In truth, I love them well,” the queen responded. “And I am certain they know it. For if they did not rest assured of some speciallove toward them, they would not readily yield me such good obedience. As it is, they know I have their highest and best interests always in mind.”
I spoke of that with William, late in the eve, before the dying fire in his apartment within the home of our host. He sipped his wine thoughtfully and then said, “Yes. But they greatly desire the
She dismissed all but Lady Knollys, Blanche, Anne Russell Dudley, Mary Radcliffe, and myself.
As we helped her undress, silent tears slid down her face,coursing through the light powder she’d been made up with, streaking the faint sheen of whipped egg white that held said powder in place and smoothed her first wrinkles.
“Our cousin, the Queen of Scots, has given birth to a fair son,” she said. Our hearts broke for her. Queen Mary had provided her kingdom, and if the plotters were satisfied, perhaps Elizabeth’s kingdom, with a prized heir, which meant stability, continuity, surety. A male heir was what the English desired but which our queen was as of yet unable or unwilling to provide.
As I readied myself for bed that evening, I, like the queen, wondered if I should ever have a child of my own, something I had greatly desired since my own girlhood. I had recently realized that William had been married twice and had not yet sired a child.
• • •
Almost every summer, barring illness or plague, the queen would journey through and stay at some of the towns and estates in her kingdom, greeting the common people she held with motherly affection and being entertained by her courtiers. That summer on Progress, we stayed for some time at Lord Robert’s estates in Kenilworth. Some said that the queen was his wife in all but name, but I, having slept in her room and observed how impossible it would be to be in the queen’s presence alone, vigorously disagreed. We women surrounded her chambers night and day, and anyone who thought the queen could be expertly redressed by an unpracticed man, alone, had not been present in her bedchamber when the hour-long gowning and pinning was under way.
I would admit, though, that they oft strolled together in the public gardens at Kenilworth unmolested by courtiers or othersubjects. One afternoon William and I were arm in arm enjoying the roses when we came upon Robin, as she called Lord Robert, and the queen. I wondered if this Robin was a songbird she would like to cage, and was about to jest about it with William, but stopped myself. I did not think he would find it particularly amusing, as he was not given to either wry humor or to Lord Robert. As we passed them and I curtseyed, I thought I spied a faint bit of beard burn upon the queen’s fair and smiling face. Though I could not be certain, I hoped it was true. Every lady deserved to be kissed.
We stayed at many manors and in many towns on Progress. Her people, her “children,” came to greet her with poems and poesies at each stop along the way. In Sandwich the good housewives had prepared a feast for the queen of 140 dishes, and to the horror of William Cecil, she tasted of them all without first having her taster test them for poisons. Instead, she indicated loudly enough to bring honor to all who had prepared them that some of them should be reserved for her and brought back to her lodgings for private consumption, which put a satisfied, and adoring, smile on the face of each and every townswoman.
The queen listened attentively to the Latin discourse of a young scholar in Norwich, declaring it to be among the finest speeches she had ever heard. I rather thought that the young man would have taken up arms for her then and there if it had been required. She praised all and berated none.
Late that evening, as we were unpinning her gown, Lady Knollys commented on the time the queen took with each of her subjects.
“In truth, I love them well,” the queen responded. “And I am certain they know it. For if they did not rest assured of some speciallove toward them, they would not readily yield me such good obedience. As it is, they know I have their highest and best interests always in mind.”
I spoke of that with William, late in the eve, before the dying fire in his apartment within the home of our host. He sipped his wine thoughtfully and then said, “Yes. But they greatly desire the
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