Queen of This Realm - Plaidy Jean. Страница 79

Strangely enough I did not feel ill this time. They say that if one has had a disease once one becomes immune. One catches the disease, but it passes over lightly; and this was what it did in my case.

Before long I was well enough to rise and when I studied my face I could not find a single blemish.

Another fortunate escape!

La Mothe Fenelon came to me and I joked: “It may well be that when Monsieur le Duc comes he will be a little disappointed. Perhaps he would like to see me with just a few blemishes so that he could find me in a state not entirely dissimilar to his own.”

“Nay, Your Majesty,” he replied. “Monsieur will rejoice in the preservation of your unsurpassed beauty. Moreover Penna's medicines are having such an effect on the Duc that when you see him you will find the rumors of his disfigurement greatly exaggerated.”

“That will give me the utmost pleasure,” I replied, and I added that perhaps the Duc would like to pay a visit to the English Court. I was amused to see that La Mothe was evasive about this and I guessed it was due to the fact that he feared that if I saw the ugly little creature before a proxy marriage there would never be one in actual fact.

Shortly after he came to announce the birth of a daughter to the King of France. La Mothe was having a very uncomfortable time in England for he could not defend the action of his masters, try as he might, loyal creature that he was; and there was shock throughout the country when the news broke that two supporters of Admiral de Coligny had been executed in the Place de Greve, and that the King, Catherine de' Medici and other members of the royal family had witnessed the execution which had taken place precisely as the Queen was giving birth to a child.

I was determined to let La Mothe know that I disapproved heartily of the callous behavior of his King and the Queen Mother. It would help me with my bargaining and dealing with the wily Catherine de' Medici, and I must not miss one advantage.

“His Majesty could not have wished more for the safe delivery of his child than I do,” I said with diplomatic exaggeration. I went on to say with even more hypocrisy that I could have wished the Queen might have given birth to a dauphin, but I was sure he was very happy with the Princess. I regretted, of course, I added, that her royal father had polluted the day by so sad a spectacle and that he had gone to see it in the Place de Greve.

La Mothe Fenelon, struggling to retain his loyalty to a cause which he must have found abhorrent, agreed that it was a day in which happiness was mingled with evil. “My master was forced to witness the executions to follow the example of his great ancestors on such occasions,” he replied.

I nodded gravely and added that the state of affairs in France did cause me some concern; and I was very distressed to see action taken against people who practiced my religion.

La Mothe bowed his head and said that out of his great friendship for me, his King would be happy if I would act as godmother to the newly born infant.

I accepted graciously as there could be no possibility of my going myself and I should have to send someone in my place which was usual in such circumstances.

I then discussed with Cecil who could be sent. The obvious choice was Lady Lennox, but I was certainly not going to send her. Who knew what plots she would become embroiled in with the serpentine Queen Mother of France? She was the grandmother of the little Prince James of Scotland and schemes were undoubtedly going round and round in that head of hers, concerning the little Prince and his mother.

We decided that our best emissary on this occasion was William Somerset, the Earl of Worcester. He was a Catholic but a man whom we could trust. So off he went with the font of gold which was my gift as the godmother of the child.

I was seeing Robert almost every day. He was sure that, after the massacre, I could not marry into the House of France. One day his hopes would be high, and he would see himself beside me on the throne; on another he would seem to understand that there could never be a marriage… either with him or with any other. I was past my fortieth birthday. What would be the point in marrying now? I could have Robert at my side whenever I wished. I was in complete command. Why should I want to change that? Of course I never would. But I did like the process of wooing; I loved to see hopes rise, and sometimes I even deceived myself into thinking that I might give way. Courtship was to me one of the most exciting games to play. It kept alive the myth that I was beautiful and desirable beyond any living woman. It was a pleasant dream to live in and while those about me played the parts with such zeal they gave reality to the dream.

I was amused by Robert's jealousy; and I did have a tendency to favor young and handsome men because I liked good-looking people. I could not bear deformity; consequently a young man who was personable, could dance well and converse with grace always attracted my attention, and as I liked to have such people about me, I gave them posts which would keep them there.

Naturally, there was no one like my Master of Horse, but I liked to keep even him guessing whether or not he might be ousted from my favor by some newcomer.

Christopher Hatton remained in favor; so did Heneage. There was one young man who was really very attractive; he danced beautifully and his conversation was witty. He was not a clever man like Cecil or Walsingham, my Moor, who was now in Paris getting restive there, wanting to come home to his family. But for the moment I could not allow that. Too much was going on in France and I needed my master diplomat to make sure my affairs were well looked after. But those two and others were my Clever Men. Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford, was in the charming favorites category.

I had noticed Edward de Vere since he was twelve years old. That was when his father died and young Edward had become the Earl of Oxford. Because of his youth, a guardian had been found for him, and he had been put under the wardship of William Cecil; and as now and then I visited my chief minister, I saw the boy from time to time. Exceptionally handsome with a somewhat forceful personality, he caught my attention, and I expressed an interest in him from the first. He was a lively boy, wayward and reckless, and there was certain to be trouble where he was. When he was about seventeen he was involved in the death of one of the servants of the Cecil household—an undercook, I think. The man had offended him in some way and Oxford had hot-headedly run him through with his sword. The man had died and a great deal of manipulation was needed to extricate Oxford from serious trouble. Even noble earls were not permitted to murder the humblest servants. However, the jury was induced to bring in a verdict that the undercook had “run into the point of the Earl's sword”—thus making the verdict accidental death.

I daresay this was not good for my lord's character for he believed that he could act in whatsoever manner he wished and escape punishment.

A few days later he appeared at a special joust and so distinguished himself that I forgave him. He looked so handsome, so noble, as he faced his opponent; and he was romantically charming when he came to bow to me. He will think twice before he attacks his servants again, I tried to delude myself into believing.

The next event was his marriage to Cecil's daughter Anne. I suppose it was natural. They had been brought up in the same household and had grown very familiar with each other. I remarked to Cecil that it was the best basis for a happy marriage. I think Cecil was a little dubious, knowing the nature of the Earl, but I had no doubt that he was pleased to see his daughter marry into such a noble household.

Oxford was one of those young men who would always call attention to himself wherever he was and it was usually in the most outrageous manner. If only he had been content with his excellence at the joust and being a graceful addition to any social gathering! But he wanted to swagger on the stage at all times. He wanted all attention focused on him.