A/N: Thank you everyone for the reviews, follows and favourites - all of which are very much appreciated! I know this one's taking a fair bit longer to come out of the drawer, but here's chapter two. We must move from Kent to London - where the Court is in residence and looking forward to Christmas...
CHAPTER TWO
Returning to Colours
The Palace of Placentia - Christmastide, 1561
Elizabeth, by the grace of God Queen of England, Ireland and France, looks at herself in the polished steel of her mirror and frowns, "Anna, does this ruby truly match my overgown?"
Such a trivial question; but when does she ever have the opportunity to be trivial? Her entire morning has been spent in the council chamber, where the questions have been anything other than trivial: treaties with the Scots and the French, more grumblings from Spain…so much to consider that it is quite a relief to speak of matters of so little note.
Some months have passed since she last wore colours; rather longer than strictly necessary for mourning, admittedly, but the double loss of her Aunt Jane and Uncle George struck her rather more than she thought it might.
Two days ago, however, she decreed that the court's mourning would end today, and certainly her Councillors had largely adopted colours again this morning. Now she shall step into the presence chamber in her favourite russet red, and life shall go on.
She turns at the sound of a knock upon the door, and Anna confers with the steward outside, "Majesty, his Majesty is without."
Elizabeth's mouth creases into a smile, "I shall be with him anon; quickly, my scent."
The last of her toilette completed, she emerges into her privy chamber to greet her husband. Philip, Consort of England and Duke of Wessex, smiles at her, "Perfection as always, my most precious Majesty."
He speaks to her in his native Portuguese, as they always use his tongue when they speak privately. None of her ladies are versed in the language, and thus they are free to talk as they wish.
"It is my duty to England, Filipe." She returns his smile, "I am her crowning jewel, and thus I must sparkle more vividly than the brightest of diamonds." Then the smile falters, "A jewel that has lost so much of its firm setting."
He draws her into an embrace, "Nay, my beloved. Do not think them gone - for God has welcomed them to his table - and I have faith that even now, our lost Lord Wiltshire is seated at his table, already sharing a finger of heavenly wine with Lord Essex. They are amongst the angels now, and the saints - and look upon us with paternal pride even as the Heavenly Father does so."
Elizabeth dabs at her eyes with a kerchief, "Forgive me, Filipe; I am at a loss to understand how it is that my aunt and uncle's passing has grieved me so. I did not require the Court to wear mourning for such a time after the loss of my dear Kat."
"He was a loyal and excellent councillor, Lizzie; and he was as a father to you, while his dear lady was a favoured Lady of your mother's household, and loved you as she did."
"That is so." She agrees, "For I have little memory of my father - and thus I cannot recall ever seeing him so; and yet I think my late uncle resided in my heart as a father in the place of the man who sired me."
"And thus you mourn his loss as though he were the man who sired you."
"Does that seem strange to you?"
"Not particularly. He was a kindly man who loved you deeply. Indeed - he loved all deeply, and thus his despair at his loss of Lady Wiltshire cut him to the deepest of his heart."
"I still have lord Richmond." She says, fondly, "And I have most heartily forbidden him to die. Thus I shall be served loyally and with the voice of experience from long service."
"Indeed, he would not dare to disobey." Philip takes her hand, "Come, my Queen, let us repair to the hall to dine. Your Court has not seen you at the high table for far too long."
They emerge into the presence chamber, and then continue through to the watching chamber, where her highest councillors await her. John Dudley of Northumberland, of course, for he governs the north on behalf of Philip, young William Boleyn of Wiltshire, who has inherited his father's lands and title as its third Earl, and the old guard of them all, Richard Rich of Richmond, who now leans on two sticks as another grand councillor once did. In the absence of her great political triumvirate of Cromwell, Rich and Boleyn, now there is another.
"My Lord of Richmond." She smiles, kissing him on the cheek, "You look most well."
"Thank you, Majesty." Unlike everyone else he wears black, his white hair crowned by a scholar's cap. The image of the late lord Cromwell - even after six years still remembered, "It is good to see you returned to the embrace of the Court."
The royal couple lead the councillors into the Hall accompanied by the bray of trumpets and the thunder of kettledrums. The walls are decorated with boughs of pine and fir, while great swags of silver tinsel, scarlet satin and green braids are hung between the vault shafts. There is another day yet until the Christmastide feast; but after a considerable period of drab and mourning, Elizabeth is keen to restore life to a Court muted by grief. The Wiltshires would have required nothing less.
Richmond sits to her right, as her Lord Chancellor, with Matthew Parker, who has replaced the retired Thomas Cranmer as Archbishop of Canterbury, while Philip sits to her left with Northumberland at his side and the third Earl of Wiltshire beyond. As the first remove is fanfared in, she sighs inwardly; perhaps she should have invited the Kents; but the letter that she received from her mother is sufficient to bring a smile to her face.
My beloved daughter and most noble Queen,
I write to you to wish you the best compliments of the season, and to send you gifts to celebrate the birth of the Christ child with my joy and blessing. While obligations upon our Estates preclude our return to Court for Christmastide, we have undertaken considerable works in the Gloriette and House, which I am most eager to offer to you as accommodation for your summer progress in the coming year.
We look forward to welcoming you to our home, and would be pleased to greet all whom you choose to accompany you, and we have excellent stocks of deer in the parkland, while the latest litter of our hounds shall be full grown by the summer, and await you to try at the hunt.
I pray that God's blessing shall be upon you, and upon his Grace, Philip. Also upon dear young Edward and Harry.
I look forward to the summer - and to your arrival.
Your loving mother.
So much nicer than inviting herself.
The musicians in the gallery above them play a merry song of the season, the notes trickling down over the heads of the gathered throng as they winnow their way through a celebratory mountain of victuals. The extravagance of her father's court has not been repeated in hers, but there are times - and this is one such time - when it is a pleasure to spend to excess. Manchet loaves in profusion, sides of beef, saddles and haunches of venison, geese and ducks in flocks upon even the lowest of the tables below the salt where the lowliest of the courtiers dine. This afternoon shall be spent at the tiltyard, where the young bloods of the court compete for favours from the ladies in a display of chivalry from another age. All work shall cease from tomorrow until twelfth night, and there shall be feasting, dancing and joy to celebrate the season.
In between masses, of course.
Elizabeth may not require the number of masses that the first Queen did, but she expects religious observance throughout the holiday; hence the presence of Parker. His quiet refusal to involve himself in Court politics ensures that he is rarely present, and she wishes to discuss matters spiritual with him before he returns to his palace. Thus he shall celebrate the masses for the season, and she shall speak with him once the holiday is at an end.
The mass of the Court rises from the tables as the feast draws to a close, moving to another chamber to sample the banquet course while the victuals are voided by the servants. The joust is to be followed by a masque in the early evening while the Court sups - though she and Philip shall do so in private with just a few of her closest courtiers. She has fond memories of the evenings when her mother did so, and played chess with her Lord Chancellor. She would do likewise, but her Lord Chancellor has no liking for chess, so instead the game is primero or triumphs.
"You are welcome to join us for supper tonight, gentlemen." She smiles as Dudley, Wiltshire and Richmond bow.
"Forgive me, Majesty," Richmond says, "I feel it would be wise for me to seek some rest between the joust and tonight's mass. While I am grateful to be granted a chair in the face of my infirmity, I fear that I might disturb our celebrations should I fall asleep in it while his Grace of Canterbury gives his homily."
She takes his hand and smiles, "Then I shall ensure that some good victuals are sent to your quarters for your refreshment this evening once you are rested, my Lord."
"Thank you, Majesty." He bows again, "Nay, John; get yourself to the tiltyard, there is no need to escort me to my chambers. Enjoy the madness of our young bloods."
Northumberland nods and smiles at him, "As you will, Richard. Rest well - we shall see you anon."
The tiltyard is, as is always so when a tourney takes place, a riot of flapping banners and pennons. In the absence of war to test their mettle, the younger men of the Court are eager to face on another in the lists, and thus the number of participants is considerable. In a court presided over by a young Queen, there are plenty of young women present to offer their favours to the competitors, indulging in the foolish charms of Courtly Love, play-acting at chivalry even as its principles are slowly being buried into the pages of childish romances. A lance is, of course, of little use against a mortar.
Henry Dudley, the first son of Northumberland and earl of Warwick, slowly rides his horse down the lists and draws to a halt before the stand where Elizabeth is arriving with Philip. He is not to joust today, as his last tourney left him with a broken rib that has not yet healed, and thus he has appointed himself the Master of the Lists.
The first competition is intended to whittle down the number of mounted knights to a more suitable group to undertake the joust proper, and all are required to tilt at a quintain with an arm upon which is attached a thin bladder filled with white render. Those who strike the quintain, but are struck by the bladder and drenched with render, shall be disqualified from further competition, as shall be those who miss. Given the quality of the riders, that should still leave a decent field to compete.
It is a delightful spectacle of thundering hooves, men braced in the saddle, their lances steady…only to strike the quintain just wrongly, and find themselves splattered with white render. None miss the target, but unless they hit the centre of the board, it is almost inevitable that the bladder shall swing about, and catch them as they pass. As each competitor makes his run, the accumulated audience cheers, or groans, or laughs at the outcome.
After three-quarters of an hour, the field has been reduced to eight, most of them young men at the first stages of their court careers. One of the number, older than the others, is one of Northumberland's sons; what was his name again? Ah yes, Robert. One of his brothers, Ambrose, was clipped by the bladder when he took his turn, though it failed to break, saving him from a dousing.
Rising from her seat as the eight mounted men sit aside their destriers before her, Elizabeth removes a fine, gold scarf from about her slender neck, "Gentlemen! Here is my token - to be granted to the winner amongst you this day and worn at tomorrow's feast!"
She laughs at the wave of cheers that breaks across the benches. All of the competitors are young, talented and keen to make their mark. It shall be interesting to see which of them shall win. Returning to her seat, she smiles as Philip takes her hand, "That younger Dudley seems most keen to find his way at court, my love."
"Indeed he does. I am given to understand that he is a peerless horseman. I am minded to make him my Master of Horse if that is so. Perhaps we shall see some measure of his prowess in the lists, in which case, I shall think upon it after Christmastide."
By the end of the afternoon, that prowess has been displayed to its fullest, granting him the golden scarf, and Elizabeth smiles at her husband, "Yes. I shall indeed think upon it after Christmastide."
The chamber, unlike the tiltyard, is almost completely silent but for the soft ticking of a small, very expensive, clock, and the slightly wheezy breaths of the occupant as he sits in a chair and quietly broods.
Christmastide was always Lisbet's favourite time; a time when she supervised the decoration of their Hall, and the assembly of a grand feast for his enormous family alongside the dispensation of largesse to the poor of the parishes under their ownership. She was always so careful and intent upon that most vital of Christian duties - even in the days when his greed and avarice controlled all that he did.
How could she have loved him in those days? Perhaps she did not - theirs was a marriage arranged as much as any other might have been - but she had given him a great brood of children, and heirs to inherit the lands that he has accumulated over long years of service at Court. His only comfort as he turns her wedding ring over in his fingers is the knowledge that he was at her side when she passed.
I am all that remains.
For a while, he loses himself in memories of those years when he looked to a man he despised to keep his head upon his shoulders. A man who became a dear friend and ally as they fought to ensure that Elizabeth kept the crown that her father had willed to her. He had been a despicable man in those days, of course; motivated by ambition and utterly without scruples - until others with the same motivations looked upon him as little more than a commodity to be used and discarded once he had ceased to be of value.
After Thomas Cromwell's passing, there had still been George Wiltshire; intelligent, witty and incisive as he matured into his political role. And now he, too, is gone.
He has not returned to his family seat this Christmastide; choosing instead to dispatch gifts and letters to his daughters and younger sons. But not to his eldest; no - not after overhearing that unguarded conversation two summers ago while he was tending to the business of his estates.
I have seen the will, Julius! He has left bequests to my brothers - from my inheritance! God's blood, when that old man is dead and all is mine, that shall be overturned, I assure you!
The other, one of his friends, remarked that the 'old man' still lived, and was of sound mind.
And I seek each day for the news that he is dead! I have naught but the courtesy of his Barony, naught but that which he seeks to give me! God, I hate him for his longevity, and await the day that his doddering old corpse is stilled forever!
He should not blame the man; after all, was he not the same with his own father? Even though he had no inheritance, he wished for his father to die, and then for his brother to do likewise - and without issue - thereby leaving him with what little inheritance his family retained. That vileness remained with him even as his court career began - and did not leave him until he discovered the price of it. Perhaps it was inevitable that such a bad apple would not fall that far from so diseased a tree.
But to know that his own son hates him…
"Lisbet," he whispers, "Forgive me - I beg of you; for I did not cleanse my tainted soul until it was too late to keep Robert's free from its stain. Perhaps, however, he is right to desire my passing - for I have lost all that gave me joy. All but the kindness of a young woman who thinks me to be her wisest adviser. I am tired, Lisbet. So very tired; and yet still God does not grant me rest…"
He wants to go - to be with her again at the Lord's table. There is no one left now but him - no one but an heir who longs for his death, and a multitude of regrets.
Overwhelmed, Richmond bows his head, and weeps.
The strains of a pavane echo about the hall, accompanied by the aromas of the recently voided feast to celebrate twelfth night. The slow pace of the steps enables Elizabeth to be led in the dance by her elderly Lord Chancellor, whose subdued mood has not gone unnoticed.
She chooses to speak of light matters, rather than state affairs: that can be reserved for the morrow. The rumours of his travails with his ungrateful heir have echoed even in her privy chamber, and the cruel amusement at his expense has come close to rousing her temper on more than one occasion. His former acts against other courtiers have not been forgotten, it seems; and not even years of diligent service and royal favour have overcome them.
God's wounds, even now some look upon them with near-disbelief that she would lower herself to grant favour to one such as Richmond. Such is the price of politics - they looked upon the late Lord Essex in much the same fashion - but nonetheless it grieves her to see their ire for a man who has done naught but win her trust.
"Their graces of Kent and Pembroke have invited us to progress to Leeds Castle in the summer, my Lord. I trust that you shall attend with the royal party?"
For the first time that evening, he smiles, "I should be most pleased to, Majesty. It has been too long since their Graces were at Court, and I miss the pleasure of a game of cards with Lord Stamford. If it be your wish, I shall speak to my Lord of Hackney to commence preparations over the coming spring."
"Excellent." She knows well that the most effective means of improving Richmond's temperament is to give him work to do. Their conversation moves back to matters pertaining to the forthcoming visit of her sons, who have spent the season in their own households, as it is her firm intention that their return shall be permanent. As the dance ends, and Richmond bows to her, his smile broadens, "And the scandal shall cause the sky to fall in."
She smiles back, "Then I shall ensure that we build a new sky."
"I see his Grace is smiling again." Philip observes as Richmond withdraws from escorting her back to her seat, "I have not seen him smile in many weeks."
"I have set him to work upon our progress to Kent, my beloved." Elizabeth smiles at him, "He has ever been enlivened by a project."
Philip takes her hand, "He is important to you, is he not?"
"He is all that remains of my childhood, Filipe. Perhaps it is childish to wish to keep a hold of that which gave us security and safety when we were young; but I was blessed with excellent advisers when I came into my inheritance, and I am loath to give them up. God may wish to call him home - but I shall fight to keep him for as long as I may. Besides, he is one of the few upon my Council who stands with me in my wish to bring our little ones here. I was permitted to live in my mother's household, and I think it right that my children be granted the same courtesy."
Philip nods, but his smile is muted; some years have passed since they last argued to the degree that they have argued over this intention. It is not fear of convention that concerns him; after all, his own place at court defies convention. No, it is the inevitable miasma exuded by such a concentration of people and the risks thereof that fills him with fear. He remembers well the moment when Edward was first placed into his arms, and that extraordinary sense of wonder and love for his first son. And the same with young Harry. They are not just heirs - they are the fruits of his love for his wife; and to lose them to the unpleasant humours that infest the court? God have mercy.
She knows it. She appreciates it as he does - but she was permitted to spend her youth with her mother for the sole reason that she was the Queen. It was expected that she be at Court. Heirs, on the other hand, are expected to be kept safely away from risk…
He feels her hand grasp his more tightly, and he looks into her eyes, "Forgive me, my Lizzie." He whispers, "It is not a wish to be contrary."
"I understand," She answers, softly, "and I am truly grateful that you have agreed to my wish."
He kisses her on the cheek, "I could not refuse you, my dearest wife and Queen. Besides, they shall be kept safe and well, shall they not? It shall be a pleasure to have them near."
She smiles back at him, "And - all the better - to see the looks upon the faces of those who see our action and are scandalised? I have always loved to frustrate the nobility."
Philip laughs, and she grips his hand tightly, "Mr Sands - a volta, I think!"
There are delighted voices all about as the couples gather, and Philip leads his queen into the dance.
The men seated around the Council table are a mixture of old hands and new blood. Warwick has been a member for less than a year, and his youth compared to Richmond's age is quite the contrast.
The difference of opinions is also wide at times; but Elizabeth prefers it to be that way in order to gain as broad a gathering of advice as possible before she makes any decision. Sometimes a younger perspective can be precisely the best course to take - and even Richmond appreciates that. The arguments, however, can be most bracing.
John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, rises to his feet, "I have a report from our factors in Spain, Majesty. In spite of all the gold of his holdings in the new world, it would appear that King Philip's coffers are empty once again. His wars have been prohibitively expensive, and his determination to force his subjects in the low countries to subject themselves to the Pope on pain of death is also proving costly. I fear that Cateau-Cambresis was of benefit to none in those lands."
Elizabeth sighs, "Do we have means of providing succour to those who are oppressed?"
Northumberland shakes his head, "Not without antagonising Spain. For all his penury and commitments elsewhere, Philip remains eager to achieve that which your sister failed to do, and claim England for Rome."
"And for himself." Someone snorts, derisively, prompting a ripple of amusement around the table. All know that such an enterprise would fail on the grounds of cost alone. Equally, however, all know that he would refuse to see an invasion in such terms. Of all the crowned heads of Europe, Philip is by far the most set upon his course - and utterly incapable of pragmatism. Should he be provoked, there is no doubting that he would act.
"I have no doubt that he wishes us to provoke him, in order to claim a casus belli and send his ships against us." Richmond admits, "Thus it would be madness to do so. England prospers, but primarily because England does not make war. All know it; and thus we show that peace is a better way. It was your Grandfather's way - and he thus left England solvent upon his passing."
"Which my father promptly wasted upon wars." Elizabeth adds, smiling ruefully.
Northumberland returns the smile, "Matters are little different in France, Majesty; though her Majesty the Queen Regent is infinitely more pragmatic in terms of overseas politics, and prefers to keep her religious stubbornness within her own borders."
"She can no more afford to antagonise us than Philip can." Young Wiltshire smiles, "Her wars are just as expensive, and she has no bottomless coffers of gold across the sea to raid. Not if she wishes to have a France for her son to inherit."
"Assuming he does so. Her whelps seem remarkably fragile; almost as much as her wish to remain France's queen is strong."
"You think she would not relinquish power to Charles?" Elizabeth asks, intrigued at such a concept in the face of her own upbringing.
"Eventually, she shall." Richmond observers, "Either she shall die or her ministers shall conspire against her once the boy comes of age. For all our example, it is still the desire that a Kingdom be ruled by a King."
"They are, however, concerned with matters other than England at this time, and thus we may see out the year secure that we are safe from them." She says, quietly, "Are there any other matters that have come about?"
"I have heard rumours, Majesty." Warwick says, looking up from his papers a little shyly, for he has not yet spoken in Council, "Traders who have come from Palermo who put into Cadiz, only to be obliged to flee when it became clear that the town had been struck by sickness. People were fearful and there were many rumours. It appears that all of the mendicants were engaged in healing, but the closed orders had shut up their houses and claimed to serve through praying. It clearly had not served, though, for it was claimed by the pilot who turned the ship away that all of them were dead."
For a moment, many of the Councillors are confused by such a statement as they cannot see how it would be of importance. Elizabeth, however, looks sad, "All of them?"
"I cannot say for certain, Majesty; for it is naught but rumour. But, if so, then yes; it would appear that the former Lady Mary is among them."
"Even if we cannot confirm it, gentlemen, we will act in the belief that it is true. I shall ask Mr Parker to ensure that prayers are said for her soul in the Parishes, in the hope that she has found the peace that was denied her in life."
"That is most forgiving, Majesty." Richmond observes.
"It would be abominably churlish for me to do otherwise, my Lord." Elizabeth reminds him, "For it could be claimed that, as I gained, she lost. How many times was love granted to her, only to be snatched away again? It is no surprise to me that her heart hardened against me into bitterness, and thus I hope that God has washed that bitterness away in the soothing balm of His love. I can afford to be so magnanimous, for as she lost, I gained. I cannot say with certainty that I might not have become as she did, had I been the one who lost as she did. It would be unChristian of me to think otherwise, for God granted me great gifts, did he not?"
Secretary Paget, seated at his small writing desk, scratches away with his quill, noting down the Queen's instruction to ensure that it shall be carried out.
Northumberland continues, "His Majesty, in his capacity as Warden of the North, has received word from the Council of the North regarding the activities of the Scots. Since her return from France, the young Queen has proved well educated and intelligent as any who resided in the French Court could expect to be; but she is woefully ignorant of the politics of her realm, and thus is at odds with her Lords on many matters; though particularly matters of religion. While she is content to look to religious settlement as we have done, she is facing the intransigence of reformers who despise Rome even more violently than those amongst us who call themselves Puritans. She does not have the political experience or acumen to negotiate with them."
"I know of them." Elizabeth adds, "Such is their bigotry that even I fear I could not negotiate with them. I am, after all, one of that 'monstrous regiment' am I not?"
Her council exchange glances. All of them remember her fury when Thomas Randolph sent her a copy of the vile polemic against female monarchs penned by that arch reformer who even now takes it upon himself to lambast the woman on the Scots throne at every opportunity. What was that wretched little man's name? Ah yes; Knox. Even though his letter was apologetic and insisted that he opposed the words the pamphlet contained absolutely, it had taken some time for her temper against her ambassador to ease.
"Is it likely that her travails shall impact upon us?" She asks, moving briskly on. There is no reason to tread over old ground yet again.
"At this time? It is unlikely." Northumberland answers, "Scotland is in no position to make war with anyone, and Randolph's negotiations with the Councillors have ensured that we have strong treaties that keep us aloof from any quarrels they might have with the French in the aftermath of her departure."
"It was wise, Majesty, to grant her safe passage through England when she returned from France." Richmond adds, "I suspect that the Queen Regent had hoped that she would be refused, and thus resentment would be sparked between our nations."
"She is a sister Queen. Despite all that the French have done to sow the seeds of discord between us, she has accepted my right to rule, and thus I grant her all due courtesy. Besides," she adds with a wry smile, "she, too, is one of that 'monstrous regiment', and we must stand together if men believe our right to rule to be against the will of God."
Her councillors exchange glances. Perhaps she knows that the only reason that France and Mary of Scotland have accepted her is thanks to her marriage and her heirs. Edward and Henry have made her unassailable in a way that her sex could not. Mary has no children, and thus has nothing to offer other than a more distant relationship to the Tudor line than that of England's queen. Even if those who whisper behind the arras claim that her mother's marriage to the King was false, the presence of sons from her union have drowned out those insistent voices, and she is safer upon her throne now than she ever might have been.
"Are there any other matters of which I should be aware?" Elizabeth prompts, after a period of silence.
"Nothing of immediate concern, Majesty." Richmond answers, "Should that change, however, you shall be informed."
"Thank you, my Lord." She smiles at him, reaching out to squeeze his arm affectionately, "In that case, gentlemen, our meeting is at an end."
Rising, she accepts their bows, and departs from the chamber.
The horses thunder across the park, sending birds clattering from thickets and small animals fleeing to their dens. Beyond, the hounds are stretching ahead of the riders, in search of a stag to bring down for the game cellars.
It is no surprise that her Majesty is at the very forefront of the pack; she has always been the finest of riders and her new horse has proved to be a mettlesome beast that gallops as fast as any in the stables. Only the companion steed granted to Philip can match him pace for pace, and the two lead the court in the hunt.
Their pace is courtesy of her new Master of the Horse. Young Robert Dudley has proved to be a talented judge of horseflesh, and many of the Court are astride excellent animals sourced from the finest stables of Europe. No one seems to like the man particularly; as his rise to prominence has been accompanied by a rather embarrassing arrogance that has made him distinctly unpopular amongst the more senior courtiers.
It is all youthful pride; a man promoted to a Court office at such a young age is unusual, after all. There is no doubting his talent, of course; he would not be there if he lacked it. Unfortunately, his pride matches that talent; so he shall merit watching to ensure that he does not cause trouble in the future. It does not do for a young man to become too confident in his importance - perhaps Dudley has forgotten another young man who thought himself more important than he was; and paid for that presumption with his head.
There seems to be no quarry out in the parkland this morning, and the riders instead adjourn to a sequence of pavilions set between a stand of beech trees to dine upon game pies and pasties brought out from the kitchens to the wide expanse of Blackheath. A number of the older Courtiers have travelled out separately, lacking the skill upon horseback to keep up with the chase, and they are already settled around a shaded table engaged in a game of triumphs and supping at an excellent claret.
Breathless from the ride, Elizabeth laughs as Philip assists her in the dismount, and she impulsively kisses him upon the cheek, "Ah, I am not disappointed in the lack of quarry, for I think no quarry could equal the joy of the ride! Is he not a magnificent beast? And Magnus is as superb!"
Philip laughs at her joy, "I cannot think of any pastime that brings you greater joy than this, my dear Queen; come, let us dine, for there shall be another ride back once we are fed and rested."
They seat themselves upon furs and blankets a short distance from the rest of the Court, where they are served the finest dishes from the selection, and converse in Portuguese for privacy. These are always the best times. The times when there are no problems to be resolved, no diplomats to placate…nothing but the pleasure of each others' company. Only the presence of her sons would lead to absolute perfection; but in a few weeks' time, they shall be here, too.
"You were right to make him Master of the Horse, my beloved." Philip smiles, reaching for a piece of pie, "Though I fear that his head has enlarged somewhat in the process."
"He is young, and impetuous." Elizabeths answers, "He married impulsively, and now his poor wife lacks even a house to manage, for he puts all of his energies into his career at Court. Perhaps I should bring her into my household as one of my ladies: if she is not to be given a home of her own. Then he might appreciate her more. I am told that she lacks a courtly education; but Court manners can be learned."
Philip frowns slightly, "Indeed, precious; but in some ways, I fear that Mr Dudley would not be pleased at such a move. He seems to regret his marriage, and prefers to pretend that she does not exist."
Elizabeth turns to him, surprised, "Is that so, Filipe? I knew it not."
"There are rumours, Lizzie; rumours that he is so keen upon his work at Court because it enables him to conceal his wife from his sight."
"But he assured all that he would die if he could not have her!" Elizabeth observes, shocked.
"Such are the words of a man who seeks a carnal marriage, I fear." Philip answers, wryly, "I saw it in Lisbon - many young men who cast themselves at the feet of a woman, only to do likewise to another mere weeks later. They, however, were not fool enough to entangle themselves in the bonds of matrimony before their affections moved on."
"Have his affections moved on?"
"That, I cannot say; for none have said so." Philip admits, "I think that he has found pleasure in his court position, and is keen to absorb himself in politics."
"That shall be interesting to observe when he takes his seat at the council table. If he is so dissatisfied with his marriage, it is surprising to me that he was willing to spend Christmastide with his wife."
"They were at Alnwick with my Lord of Northumberland."
"Ah." Elizabeth sips at her wine, "Perhaps, if Madame Dudley is incorporated into my Household, he shall learn to appreciate her. My uncle did so - and his marriage to my aunt Jane became all the stronger for it. I think I shall bring her into my train for our progress to Kent. If it turns out that Mr Dudley is not willing to consider a rapprochement, then they need not be forced upon each other against their collective wills."
Philip laughs again, "That should be interesting."
Amy Dudley is a short, thin woman with rich, brown hair and beautifully tawny eyes that look out from a softly rounded, pale face highlighted with a small, rosebud mouth. It is no wonder that her husband was so captivated with her upon first sight. Her beauty, however, is not matched by her intellect, for she has been schooled only to manage a household, and thus she has no skill at more learned pursuits.
Her eyes widen at the sight of the opulence of the chambers that she has entered, and she curtseys deeply to Elizabeth, who is seated in a chair at a writing table, "Your Majesty."
Setting her quill down, Elizabeth rises and accepts a kiss upon her ring, "Mistress Dudley, welcome to my household. Was your journey comfortable?"
"Moderately so, Majesty; I have not travelled by carriage before, but I am grateful for the roads, for they smoothed the ride." She pauses, clearly wondering how to continue a conversation with a woman who she can see is working upon a passage in Latin.
"I have asked you here for two reasons, Mistress Dudley; to replace one of my ladies who has departed to bear a child for her husband, but also to manage the household of my sons, who are due to return to Court in the next two weeks. They have their own servants, of course; but I am told that you have been very well schooled in management of a household, and I should be most pleased for you to act as my representative with their tutors and chamberers. You shall be granted all the privileges and rights of a Lady of the Queen's household; and, should there be any further schooling that you require, you shall be free to receive it."
"I…" she pauses, "…I know not what to say, Majesty; I do not know what I have done to earn such generosity, but I am most grateful for it."
"Your family has been loyal to my House throughout my reign, Mistress Dudley, and I wish to express my gratitude though the granting of deserved Court positions. My steward shall show you to your apartments, and I shall require their Highness's Comptroller to supply you with the appropriate accounts for their household."
Her eyes still very wide, Amy Dudley curtseys again, and follows the Steward out. She may be smiling; but Elizabeth saw the look upon Robert's face when he discovered his wife would be coming to Court in the service of the Queen.
And she wonders if she has done the right thing in inviting her.