“She is my mistress and I could do nothing else.”
“As your mistress you must serve her and such an upright gentleman as you would admire a hideous hag, I doubt not, if she were your Queen.”
“The Queen of Scotland is not a hideous hag.”
“Tell me of her clothes. They say she is more French than Scottish, and has brought much of France into Scotland.”
“I know little of fashions, Your Majesty.”
“How does she wear her hair? I am told that mine is of a striking color. What is Queen Mary's hair like? Do you think it is of a more attractive color than mine?”
I could not help laughing at the dour young man and I liked to tease him while I was gleaning information about her whom I was beginning to think of as my tiresome rival.
Melville said: “Your Majesty must ask others. I know nothing of such matters.”
“Well, you would not notice your mistress's hair because it is so like that of other ladies, I doubt not. It is only when the hair is of an unusual color and particularly beautiful that people are aware of it. Now answer me this: Who is the more beautiful, the Queen of England or the Queen of Scotland?”
“The Queen of England is the fairest in England and the Queen of Scotland in Scotland.”
“That is no answer,” I cried.
“Your Majesty is pleased to plague this poor Ambassador.”
“My skin is lighter, is it not? My hair fairer?”
“That is true, Your Majesty, but…”
“But what, man?”
“The Queen of Scotland is very beautiful.”
“That is often said, but how much of her beauty does she owe to royalty?”
“The usual amount, Madam.”
Poor man, he did not like this conversation. It must seem very frivolous to a man of his nature. On the other hand he did not want to say anything which when reported to his mistress might displease her. But I was relentless in my desire to know more of this paragon of beauty.
“Who is the taller, she or I?” I demanded.
“She is,” he answered promptly.
“Then she is too tall,” I snapped, “for I am told that I am neither too high nor too low. Does she hunt? Does she read? Does she love music?”
“She does all these, Madam, and is very fond of music.”
“What instruments does she play?”
“The lute and the virginals.”
“Does she play them well?”
“Reasonably well for a queen.”
I said no more then but I was determined that he should admit that there was one thing at least in which I triumphed over that perfect mistress of his.
One day I arranged to play the virginals behind a curtain and instructed some of my ladies to bring Sir James Melville into the room so that he might hear the music and not know who was playing.
He had sat entranced during the performance, they told me, and when it was over he had declared that it was brilliant. When my ladies asked him if he knew who the performer was, he said he did not know, only that he was a fine musician.
“It is the Queen,” they said, and drew back the curtains to disclose me, sitting there.
“Ah, Sir James,” I said, “now you have heard my music. Does your mistress play as well on the virginals?”
He had to admit that he had rarely heard such a performance from any, and he believed that very few could rival me.
“Not even the talented Queen of Scotland?” I demanded with much incredulity.
“No one, Madam. You are indeed a musician.”
That mollified me a little.
Then I danced for him and he had to admit that the Queen of Scots could not leap as high as I could, nor did she dance with such verve.
One day I said to him: “Your Queen is a lady of such talent and overwhelming beauty that I know of only one man worthy of her. You must go to her, Sir James, and tell her that I will offer her the finest man in my kingdom for only she is worthy of him and he of her.”
He was looking at me as though I mocked him.
But I went on: “Oh yes, Sir James, I mean it. I shall rob my Court of its brightest jewel that it may adorn that of this most worthy lady. I offer her as the husband she needs, my dearest friend, Lord Robert Dudley.”
THE NEWS SPREAD around the Court like wildfire. I wondered what effect it would have on Robert and was quite prepared when he came bursting into my apartments with a face of thunder.
I said to the few ladies who were with me: “I see Sir Robert has forgotten again that he is in the presence of the Queen. Pray leave us so that I may deal with him as he deserves.”
They hastily retired and I had no doubt that they would not go too far out of earshot. They all loved to add to the gossip about Robert.
“Well, my lord, what is the meaning of this most unseemly conduct?” I demanded.
He cried: “I have heard this monstrous rumor. It cannot be true. I demand an immediate explanation.”
“Robin,” I replied, “there are times when you try me sorely. Perhaps out of my regard for you I have allowed you certain friendly intimacies. You take advantage of them.”
“I demand to know if you are aware of what is being said.”
“I am the one who makes demands, you should remember.”
He stamped his foot. His face was flushed, his eyes flashing with rage. “They are saying that I am to be sent to Scotland.”
“To marry the most beautiful of queens … according to her Ambassador. Robert, surely you should be dancing with joy at your good fortune.”
“You know of this. It is your doing.”
I lowered my head so that he should not see that I was smiling. He came to me and took me by the shoulders. I could call the guards to arrest him, I reminded him.
He held me against him and shook me.
I said mockingly: “Robin is in a rage.”
“How can you be so heartless?”
“Does a crown mean nothing to you?”
“That one does not,” he said. “And a beautiful Queen to go with it.”
“There is only one Queen for me. You cannot be serious.”
“I am serious,” I said.
He looked at me in bewilderment and I felt I could not tease him anymore, but I did… just a little.
“You have led me to believe …” he began.
“I have led you to believe! Everything you believe, my lord, is in your own mind. How many times have I told you that I will not marry? I will remain a virgin. How many times have I told you that?”
“But you do not mean it.”
“Robin, you want a crown. There is one waiting for you in Scotland.”
“No!”
“And the fairest of queens…”
“The fairest of queens is here, standing before me now.”
“I am not sure that Master Melville would agree with you on that.”
“A barbarian from a barbarous land!”
“Perhaps you are right and it would be unkind to condemn my elegant Robert to that land. Perhaps I had better keep him here. I confess my Court would be a dull place without him.”
He seized my hand and kissed it.
“I am tired of hearing of the perfections of that woman,” I cried petulantly. “Do you think there are some in this land who would rally to her if she came against me?”
“I would soon rout the lot of them,” he boasted. “There is only one Queen for this country and with God's help she will reign over us for years to come.”
He was regaining his assurance. In his heart he must have known I would never let him go.
Again he kissed my hands. He would have kissed more if I had allowed it; but I held him off and he was faintly unsure.
“She will be angry when she hears of my proposal concerning you, Robert. She has said some cruel things about you, called you my horse master who killed his wife in order to make room for me. I hear that she has not a good word to say for me either, and what have I done save take my rightful inheritance, for which she craved? Perhaps she will accept you…and you, Robert, what will you do? You will refuse her. You will let Master Melville and his Scots know that you prefer the hope of a crown with me to a safe one with her.”