I said: “I was sorry to hear of your son's death.”

She looked sad and I thought: She does love her children.

She answered: “It was a great sorrow, but he wanted to go with his brother. He adored Robert. They all do.”

“Essex has charm,” I agreed. “He could do well for himself…but he must not be so reckless.” Now I was conspiring with her; I was asking for her help for Essex. It showed how I worried about him—more than was wise and reasonable. I should say, Let him make his mistakes and pay for them. But I really loved that young man. “He speaks too freely,” I went on. “He is so careless and I fear that he could fall into very serious trouble.”

“I know it well,” she answered, falling into the mood. We were cousins again as we had been when she had first come to Court and I had been attracted by her as I always was by beauty, no matter in which sex I found it. And the fact that there was a blood relationship between us had drawn me to her. “Oh Your Majesty,” she went on, “I worry a great deal about him.”

“He thinks much of you,” I told her. “He is at least a devoted son. Warn him. Let him understand that he may go so far because of his charm and my affection for him… but he should watch that he does not take too many rash steps. There may come a time when even I cannot help him.”

She rose then and kneeling, took my hand and kissed it. The face which she lifted to me was distorted a little by her anxiety; and if she became less beautiful in that moment, I liked her the better for it.

I said: “We will do our best for this wayward boy… both of us.”

And for a moment we were close because of our love for him.

The moment passed and I said sharply: “You did not wait long after Leicester's death to take another to your bed.”

“I was lonely, Your Majesty.”

“And you were lonely before his death, eh?”

“He was so much at Court.”

“It was his will,” I reminded her. “I trust you find joy in this new husband.”

“We have been married many years now.”

“Oh yes, I remember. Leicester was scarcely cold when you took young Blount to husband. So you are happy in this third marriage? What a woman you are for marrying!”

“I am contented in my marriage,” she said.

I went on: “And that girl of yours. She is another one to watch. Lady Rich is it…or Mountjoy?”

“Lady Rich,” she said.

“Oh yes, Rich is the husband, Mountjoy the paramour… but I believe she is everywhere with Mountjoy and shares his house.”

She was silent.

“And the other girl … rushing off and marrying Perrot. Yes indeed, Lettice, you have a lively brood.”

“They have made me very happy,” she replied quietly. “It is thus with children. We cannot expect to have the joys of parenthood without the accompanying anxieties.”

There she stood—she had been wife to three men and was the mother of several children—Essex among them. And there was I … in my regal state with no husband or child. This was my life; that was hers. I could feel a fleeting envy, but I knew I would not have bartered my crown for any of her husbands—not even Robert—nor for any of the children—not even Essex.

I was tired of her. She depressed me. I brought the interview to an end.

“Essex persuaded me to receive you,” I said, “and I gave in to him. So, Lettice, we have spoken to each other after all these years.”

I held out my hand. It was the signal for her to take it, kiss it and depart.


* * *

ESSEX CAME TO ME glowing with pleasure.

“Your Majesty, my dearest Majesty, you have done this for me. How I adore you! My mother is so happy. It is the one thing she needed for her contentment.”

“I received your mother to please you,” I told him.

“How I thank you! From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.”

All this excitement about receiving his mother! I was irritated. Moreover seeing Lettice again had depressed me considerably. She brought back too many memories of Robert and I had spent a most unhappy night recalling so much of the past, including that never-to-be-forgotten day when I had discovered that he had defied me … I might say abandoned me … to marry her.

The meeting may have gratified Lettice Knollys, but it certainly brought me no joy.

I had made up my mind that never again would I give way to Essex's whims. I would not see Lettice Knollys again. She would never be anything to me but the she-wolf who had spoilt the last years of my life with Robert.

“My mother says it was such a happy interview.”

“I was unaware of that happiness,” I said coldly. He should have realized it was dangerous to go on, but when had Essex ever been wise?

“She is looking forward to her next visit to Court.”

“She may look forward for a long time. She will not have another visit to Court.”

He looked at me in astonishment. “But you have received her! She has come back.”

“My Lord Essex, your mother can only come to Court if I give her permission to do so.”

“But you will, of course.”

“I have decided not to.”

“What?”

Really that young man was heading fast for trouble. He would have to learn to show some restraint.

I said coolly: “I did what you asked me to do. I have received your mother and there is an end to the matter. We have spoken and there is nothing more I have to say to her. And remember this: I have no wish to see her again.”

He stared at me and the color suffused his face. He did not speak, which perhaps was fortunate, for if he had I was sure he would have said something which was unforgivable.

He turned and without asking leave to retire strode from my presence.


* * *

BURGHLEY CAME TO talk privately with me. He seemed a little concerned.

Poor Burghley! He was showing his age. His beard was quite white now and his once lithe and upright figure stooping. I always felt moved when I saw him; he had lost his youth and his health in my service and I used to say to myself: God forgive me if I ever forget what I owe this man.

He had had so many troubles and he had been such a good husband and father, too. He was fond of all children and nurtured his own with great care. He had looked after his grandchildren—those of the profligate Earl of Oxford who had married his daughter, a match which Burghley had never ceased to regret. He had cared assiduously for my welfare and had even provided me with his son Robert, my “Little Elf,” so that when my dear old friend passed on there would be another as able—or almost as able—to step into his shoes.

When we were alone together I was always particularly affectionate with him. I wanted him to know how much I appreciated what he had done for me and for the country.

Of course he had put forward his son. What good father would not? He had kept Francis Bacon from office out of fear that he would displace the Elf. He never would. I wanted to make use of Robert Cecil's services because I recognized in him his father's particular qualities. Francis Bacon might be brilliant but that tutorial attitude of his would never have suited me.

It was a pity that Essex was in the opposing camp. I should have liked him to work with Burghley. But that was impossible. There could not have been two people less alike than Essex and either of the Cecils.

So when Burghley came to me I feared before he began to tell me that there was some fresh complaint against Essex.

“Pray sit down, my dear friend,” I said. “I know it tires you to stand.”

Gratefully he did so.

“First,” I said, “tell me this: Have you been taking the possets I recommended?”

“Without fail, Your Majesty.”

“Well, I trust they will do good work. My Spirit must take more care of himself. Why should he not rest more? He has that very able son of his to take over much of the work.”

“It is a great pleasure to me that Your Majesty finds my son satisfactory.”

“A clever little Elf. Yes, he pleases me, Master Cecil, and not only because of his good work. He is your son and that gives him special favor in my eyes.”

Now the pleasantries were over, he came to business, and, as I had feared, it concerned Essex.

“Since the regrettable death of Walsingham we have sadly missed his excellent service,” said Burghley, “but there are those among us who have tried to make sure that there are no secret plots which might put Your Majesty's life in danger…”

“Essex works well in that direction,” I said.

“Ah, Essex, Your Majesty.” He paused and I was full of foreboding. “I have made an alarming discovery and I have come here to tell you expressly of it. Essex is corresponding with the King of Scotland.”

“That is impossible!” I cried.

“Alas, Your Majesty, I have evidence. I had discovered this was going on and have secured some of the correspondence.”

“For what purpose was this?”

Burghley looked at me and lifted his shoulders. “The correspondence started when Essex was trying to restore Davison and wanted the King of Scotland to join in the pleas for him since the trouble was about the execution of the King's mother. From that… the letters have continued.”

“How did you discover this?”

“I planted a spy—one Thomas Fowler—at the Scottish Court. The letters have been copied and sent to me. It seems that the prime mover is Lady Rich. Her husband is with her in this.”

“But she is with Mountjoy now.”

“That is so, Your Majesty, but it seems the one thing Penelope Rich has in common with her husband, is a love of intrigue. They are all working for the aggrandizement of Essex. They have code names: Penelope Rich is Rialta, Lord Rich, Ricardo; Your Majesty is Venus and Essex the Weary Knight.”