As if I would refuse! He was at Tichfield and there I must go with all speed. This I prepared to do, chiding my attendants for their tardiness. I was filled with a terrible foreboding as we set out on the road. I thought of him constantly … Robert over the years … Robert a young boy—arrogant even then—taking my hand in the dance. I was not the Queen then, only a princess, branded a bastard by some, and we had been on equal terms… almost. And then … that awareness of him in the Tower … and his of me… and his coming to me before my accession throwing his gold at my feet. Robert must not die. I could not imagine my life without him.
I went at once to his bedchamber. He was lying in his bed, pale and wan.
“Robert, my love,” I cried.
“Dear one,” he whispered, and his eyes lit up with joy. “So you came to me…”
“As if I would not, you foolish man! Certainly I would be with you and my first command to you now is to come forth from that sick-bed and get back the good health you have always had.”
“I shall die happy now,” he said, “because you are with me. I feared so much to go without seeing you.”
“Be silent, Robert. I will not have such talk.”
He appeared to be finding breathing difficult. “Dearest Majesty, I must talk to you… before…it is… too late.”
“Save your breath,” I commanded, for in truth it frightened me to hear his harsh breathing.
“I… must talk,” he insisted. “There is a plot afoot. I…I am not guiltless. I believed it would be good for England… and that is for you, my loved one…if Norfolk married Mary. I lived in perpetual fear that your life was in danger while the succession is unsettled and that woman lives.”
“Have done with the succession!” I cried. “And stop talking. Save your breath. You need it.”
“Nay…I cannot. I am in great fear that Your Majesty may be in danger. Norfolk plots…in secret with the Queen of Scots. Many of your lords are concerned in this. I have been myself. They meant no treason. They plan to restore Mary to Scotland where, with an English husband, she could be a good friend to England… and to satisfy France and Spain… you name her your successor…”
“I understand,” I said.
“Dearest Majesty, before I go … I must have your forgiveness. Your safety is my only concern. Your forgiveness…I beg you… for the part I played in this. It was no treason against Your Majesty, I swear… though some may try to make it seem so.”
He lay back gasping on his pillow and my whole being shuddered with my anguish. I had never before fully realized how much he meant to me and how empty and dark my life would be without him. Hatton, Heneage, all the pretty men who danced round me… what were they compared with Robert?
“My dearest,” I said. “It is forgiven. I understand.”
“Then I can die in peace.”
“You know I shall not allow that.”
He smiled at me wanly. “One does not speak of death to you. You like it not. You are impatient of death. You are immortal.”
“You are right and I will not have this talk. I shall stay and command you to recover.”
“Already Your Majesty's presence has worked like the elixir of life.”
“My lord Leicester, I shall have you out of that bed and dancing a high measure with me ere long. I insist on that.”
“And surely even the angels will not dare disobey you,” he said.
I kept my word and stayed there with him. His recovery was miraculous and he declared it was my presence which always had the effect of making him feel more alive than he ever could in my absence.
I did wonder how seriously ill he had been. He had certainly not been in his usual blooming health, but I pondered during those days whether his affliction was like one of those which had affected me so frequently before I came to the throne. Was it one of the illnesses of self-preservation? How deeply had Robert been involved with Norfolk? I did not believe for one moment that he would seek to set Mary on the throne. No! I knew my Robert. He had worked with Norfolk for the marriage with his eyes on the future. He believed, as so many did, that when I died Mary would come to the throne, and in that event he would not want to be completely out of favor.
In any case, whatever his motive, for a short time I had lived through the terrible prospect of losing him. Now he was rapidly improving; we played games together and I took the utmost joy in scoring against him, for I knew that my success was due to superior skill and not to royal privilege.
After that time of terrible anxiety the days of Robert's convalescence were sweet indeed. He had no doubt now of my love for him. I could see new hope springing up in his mind. Dear Robert, he would go on thinking of our marriage however old he became.
Well, that was how I liked it to be.
Meanwhile Norfolk stayed in the Tower.
THERE WAS ONE MAN at Court who had served me well and to whom I owed a great deal. He was not one of my favorite men for he was not in the least handsome and lacked the dancing talent of men like Hatton and the courtly grace of Heneage—but he was a man to be reckoned with, clever, subtle and faithful. I refer to Sir Francis Walsingham. He was not an old man being about three years older than I. He was very dark—not with the bold and handsome darkness of Robert, but with a Moorish swarthiness. I grew to appreciate his good works and became quite affectionate toward him and gave him the nickname of The Moor. I had a habit of bestowing such sobriquets on those around me and it was looked on as a mark of my favor to receive one.
He was a stern Protestant and I had always felt that my enemies would most likely be found among the Catholic hierarchy. He was rich and a diplomat, a student of law, which I think was a great asset to him for he had studied for five years in various foreign countries. He was alert and quick to scent treachery. Indeed as I had often proved, a good man to serve me, and when I look back over my life I often think that one of my greatest gifts was an ability to choose the right men. The butterflies of my Court were in a separate category; they delighted and charmed me; but I never forgot for one moment that my strength lay in men like Cecil. Walsingham was such another.
I was deeply shaken when there was an attempted rising in the North by the Earls of Northumberland and Westmorland, the aim of which was to release Mary Stuart and bring back Catholicism to England.
I knew that Northumberland—a rather foolish man—had been annoyed because I had not entrusted Mary to him. How could he think I would be so foolish! He was a well-known Catholic and thought of himself—as all the Percys did—as lord of the North. What was disquieting was that Walsingham had discovered that the Spanish had promised aid to Northumberland and Westmorland if they could bring sufficient numbers to rise against me. The Pope too was behind the rising.
And when I thought that even Robert had joined in the scheme to marry Norfolk to Mary without my knowing, I felt very uneasy.
The plot was well advanced. The Duke of Alva had promised to send over an army of Spaniards. The Marquis of Catena had arrived in England ostensibly to conduct an embassy but in fact to lead the army when it arrived. Pius V had given his blessing to the enterprise.
Fortunately the Earl of Sussex, when paying a friendly call on Northumberland, became suspicious. He came immediately to Cecil and me and told us that he feared a revolt against the crown was being planned.
Cecil advised me to summon Northumberland to London and when I had a letter from him pleading illness, all my suspicions were aroused and I sent guards to him with orders to arrest him if he offered any excuse for not accompanying them. However, Northumberland was just a little too quick for them; he managed to escape and join Westmorland and the two Earls put up their standards, declaring their intentions to bring Mary out of captivity and restore the Catholic Faith to England. It was alarming to discover that a force of seventeen hundred horse and four thousand foot were ready to join them. They were able to march to Durham where they set up the Mass in the Minster. Then they passed through the North celebrating the Mass wherever they went.