Robert had looked surprised when Norfolk had suddenly lifted his racket as though he would strike him. Robert had caught his arm and twisted it so that Norfolk had called out in pain and dropped the racket.
The Queen had been furious. "How dare you brawl before me?" she had demanded. "My Lord Norfolk must look to it or it may not be only his temper which is lost. How dare you, Sir Norfolk, conduct yourself in such a manner before me?"
Norfolk had bowed and asked leave to retire.
"Retire," the Queen had shouted. "Pray do, and don't come back until I send for you. Methinks you give yourself airs above your station."
It is a dig at his overweening family pride, which she resented as a slur on the Tudors.
"Come, sit beside me, Rob," she had said, "for my Lord Norfolk, knowing himself the loser, has no longer stomach for the game."
Robert, still holding the mockinder, had seated himself beside her, well pleased to have scored over Norfolk, and she took the mockinder from him and smiling had attached it once more to her girdle, implying that the fact that he had used it in no way displeased her.
So it was not to be wondered at that now, when Robert was thought to be in decline, Norfolk headed the long list of his enemies, and it was clear that they were going to exploit the situation to the full.
Attack came from an unexpected quarter and a very unsavory one.
There was a tense atmosphere at Court. The Queen was never happy when Robert was not with her. There could not be any doubt that she loved him; all her emotions concerning him went deep. It had even been obvious in their quarrels how much she was affected by him. I knew that she wanted to call him back to Court, but she was so beleaguered by the marriage question and Robert was growing more and more insistent, that she had to hold him off. If she sent for him it would be a victory for him and she had to make him understand that she called the tune.
I had begun to accept the fact that she was afraid of marriage, although of course the Scottish ambassador had been right when he had declared she wanted to be supreme ruler and share with none.
I felt drawn to her in a way because my thoughts were as full of Robert as hers were and I was watching for his return as hopefully as she was.
Sometimes when I was alone at night I used to contemplate what would happen if we were discovered. Walter would be furious, of course. To hell with Walter! I cared nothing for him. He might divorce me. My parents would be deeply shocked, especially my father. I should be in disgrace. They might even take the children from me. I saw little of them when I was at Court, but they were growing into real people and were beginning to interest me. But chiefly I should have to face the Queen. I used to lie in bed shivering—not only with fear but with a kind of delicious delight. I should like to look into those big tawny eyes and cry: "He has been my lover but never yours. You have a crown and we know he wants that more than anything. I have nothing but myself—yet next to the crown, he wants me. The fact that he has become my lover is a measure of his love for me, for he has dared risk a great deal to do so."
When I was with her I felt less brave. There was that in her which could strike terror into the boldest heart. When I contemplated her fury if we were discovered I wondered what her punishment would be. She would blame me as the seductress, the Jezebel. I had noticed that she always made excuses for Robert.
It was into this atmosphere that the scandal burst. It was like the reopening of an old wound. It touched the Queen almost as surely as it did Robert, and it showed clearly how wise she had been not to marry him, though of course if she had, this man, John Appleyard, would never have dared raise his voice.
The fact was that Amy Robsart's half-brother, John Appleyard, had for some time been spreading the scandal that when Robert Dudley had arranged for his wife to be murdered, he had helped cover up the crime and that, his conscience now worrying him, he felt he should confess his guilt.
Robert's enemies, headed by the Duke of Norfolk, were quick to make the most of this. They took up the case and declared that John Appleyard must tell his story in a court of law.
There was a campaign of persecution and everyone was saying that Leicester's brief glory was over.
Elizabeth talked to me about the scandal. She always watched me closely when Robert's name was mentioned and I wondered if I had betrayed anything.
"What think you, Cousin Lettice, of this matter?" she asked. "Norfolk and some of his friends seem to think that Robert should be made to answer these charges against him."
"I think they are like vultures, Madam," I said.
"Vultures indeed! You speak as though the Earl of Leicester were a rotting corpse."
"He is without your favor now, Madam, and though his body may appear to be in good health, it is his spirit which is dying."
"He's not food for the vultures yet, I promise you. Was he concerned in this murder, do you think?"
"Your Majesty's knowledge of the matter would, as in all others, be greater than my own."
I often marveled at my own temerity. One of these days my tongue would carry me into disaster. Fortunately she had not seen the significance behind that remark or if she did ignored it.
"We must be watchful of our enemies, Lettice," she said, "and I think Robin's are gathering around him fast."
"I fear so, but he is strong and will confute them, I doubt not."
"We miss Robert Dudley at our Court," she said wistfully. "What think you, Lettice?"
"I think Your Majesty does indeed miss him."
"And some of my women miss him too, doubtless."
That piercing look—what did it mean? What did she know? How would she act if she discovered we had been lovers? She would brook no rivals. And I had lain with him behind locked doors and broken my marriage vows. The Queen's wrath would be terrible.
She did not pursue the subject, but I knew she went on thinking of Robert.
He was in danger now. If Appleyard swore in a court of justice that Robert Dudley had bribed him to cover up the murder of his wife, he would be finished. Even the Queen could not condone a murder.
It was like her to act precisely at the right moment.
She sent for him to come to Court.
He came, looking pale and not quite his arrogant self. I was there with other women in the tiring chamber when he was announced. The change in her was miraculous. It made my heart sink, for it was clear that she was as much in love with him as ever.
He was to be brought to her, she said.
She sat admiring her reflection in the mirror, considering for a moment whether she would choose a different dress; but that would mean delay and she was extravagantly clad enough as it was. She took the rouge pad and applied a little to her cheek. The color seemed to add a sparkle to her eyes, but perhaps that was due to the prospect of seeing Robert.
Then she went to the chamber in which she would receive him.
I heard her say: "So you have come to me, at last, you rogue. I want an account of this desertion. Think not I'll brook such treatment."
But her voice was soft and shaken with emotion; and he came forward and, taking her hands, kissed them fervently.
I heard her whisper: "My Eyes ... my Sweet Robin ..."
She noticed me then.
"Leave us!" she snapped.
I had to go, but I went angry, hurt and humiliated. He had not as much as glanced at me.
He was back, and in greater favor than ever. She wanted an account of this scoundrel Appleyard. He had taken gifts from the Earl of Leicester, it seemed, and had made no complaint at the time. It was finally drawn from him that he had been offered bribes to circulate these stories and, said the Queen, for such criminal action he deserved to be punished.