On this particular day a water pageant had been devised to welcome her on her return to the castle, for Robert made good use of the lake, which was always its most effective by night when the lighted torches gave a magic touch to the scene. On this occasion a mermaid greeted her and beside her was an enormous dolphin, on whose back sat a man in a mask who was meant to represent Arion. As soon as he saw the Queen he began to recite verses extolling her virtues and the joy of Kenilworth because she did it the honor of staying within its walls.
This incident put the Queen in high good humor because Arion, after having delivered the first few lines of his oration, could not remember the rest of the piece. He fumbled and began again and then in a burst of rage he tore off his mask so that his red sweating face was exposed.
"I am no Arion," he cried aloud. "I am but honest Harry Goldingham, Your Majesty's most loyal subject."
There was silence. Robert glared at the offender, but the Queen burst into loud laughter and cried: "Good Harry Goldingham, you have amused me well, and I do declare that I liked your performance best of anybody's."
So Harry Goldingham left his dolphin and was as pleased with himself as he could be. He had won the Queen's special praise for his performance and no doubt he reckoned it would give him good standing with his lord and master, the Earl of Leicester.
During the evening the Queen referred again and again to the incident, and she told Robert that she would never forget the pleasure she had enjoyed at Kenilworth.
I was piqued by the Queen's absolute devotion to Robert. It meant that he was never free of her. It was only during the time when she was at her toilet that he could get away, and then I had my duties. It was very frustrating for us both and, thus tantalized, our desire for each other was intensified.
Once when I thought there was an opportunity for a few words I saw him in close conversation with another woman. I knew her by sight and had had a special interest in her. She was that Douglass Sheffield whose name had been coupled with Robert's at one time. I remembered the rumors I had heard about them.
I did not believe the story that he had had her husband murdered. What was the point of murdering the Earl of Sheffield? Douglass was much more desirable to Robert with a husband—as I was. The real proof of Robert's love would be marriage. That would mean that he wanted his bride more than the Queen's favor. I did not need a visit to Kenilworth to remind me of what her wrath would be like if he did marry. It would be fierce and terrible, and I doubted even Robert would be able to restore himself to her favor after such an event.
I had not attached a great deal of importance to the Douglass Sheffield scandal until now, because incredible stories had always been circulated about Robert. He was the most envied man in the realm; no one had more enemies; he stood so high with the Queen that thousands—at Court and throughout the country-longed, as envious people will, to see him brought low; and it is a sad commentary on human nature that even those who would gain nothing by it, yet wanted to see it.
Of course there had been the murky scandal of Amy Robsart's death and the scars of that would remain with him throughout his life. Had he murdered her? Who could say? She had certainly seemed to stand between him and ambition, and he greatly desired a marriage which had been impossible while she lived. There were too many dark secrets in Cumnor Place; and there was no doubt that the incident of Amy's death had given the envious the ammunition they needed.
Dr. Julio, Robert's physician, being an Italian, was becoming known as Leicester's poisoner, so it was small wonder that it had been said at the time of the Earl of Sheffield's death that Robert had had him removed. But why, when he had no wish to marry his widow? Except, of course, that Sheffield was at the time threatening divorce—having discovered that Douglass had committed adultery with Robert. That would have created a scandal which Robert would want to avoid at all costs, for if it came to the Queen's ears he would be in great trouble.
That Robert was of a dark and devious nature mattered not to me. I wanted a man who could challenge me. I wanted no mild, ineffectual creature like my husband. I was heartily tired of Walter, and I was as deeply enamored of Robert Dudley as any woman could be. That was why when I saw him talking earnestly to Douglass Sheffield, I was filled with uneasiness.
It was a Sunday. The Queen had attended church in the morning, and as the weather was warm and pleasant, it was decided that some players from Coventry should do Hock Tide, a play about Danes, for her entertainment.
I was mildly amused to see these rustics in their improvised costumes and their local accents portraying men of whom they could have had no conception. The Queen was delighted with them; she enjoyed being among the simple country folk, and to bring home to them the fact that, glittering and glorious as she was, she had a great respect and love for them. Again and again on our progress we must stop by the road if any humble person approached her; and she never failed to have a kind word or reassurance to offer. There must have been many people in the country who would cherish an encounter with her throughout their lives and serve her with the utmost loyalty because she had never been too proud to speak to them.
So now she gave as close an attention to the Coventry players as she would have done to any of the Court actors, and sat in her chair laughing when laughter was expected and applauding only when applause was looked for.
The play was about the coming of the Danes, their insolence, violence and the outrages they inflicted on the English countryside. The chief character was Hunna, King Ethelred's general, and of course the play ended in the defeat of the Danes. As a tribute to her sex, the captive Danes were led onto the stage by women, at which the Queen loudly applauded.
When it was over, she insisted that the players be presented to her that she might tell them how much she had enjoyed their play.
"Good men of Coventry," she said, "you have given me much pleasure and shall be rewarded. Yesterday's hunting brought us several good bucks and I shall order that you be given two of the finest, and in addition you shall have five marks in money."
The good men of Coventry fell on their knees and declared they would never forget the day they had had the honor of playing before the Queen. They were loyal men, and after this day there would not be one of them who would not willingly give his life for her.
She thanked them and, watching her, I noticed how she preserved that rare and royal gift in that she could lose none of her dignity and yet at the same time be completely at ease with them and make them so with her. She could lift them up without descending from her royalty. I was aware of her greatness as never before; that we should be rivals for the same man filled me with an intense excitement and the fact that he was ready to risk so much for the fulfillment of his passion for me was an indication of its depth.
This emotion between us was something which must not be denied. We were bold adventurers, both of us, and I could be sure that the danger was as irresistible to him as it was to me.
It was that very day that I found an opportunity of speaking to Douglass Sheffield.
The play being over and still some hours left before twilight, the Queen, riding side by side with Robert and followed by certain of the ladies and gentlemen, had left for the forest, when I saw Douglass Sheffield walking alone in the gardens and I went to her.
I came up with her near the lake as if by chance and called a greeting.
"It is Lady Essex, is it not?" she asked, and I answered that it was, and that I believed she was Lady Sheffield.