A/N: Jeez: writer's block. Sorry everyone, it's coming on - I promise! Thanks for your messages, reviews and favourites.
CHAPTER THREE
The Old, and the Young
The Palace of Placentia - March, 1562
The sound of childrens' laughter echoes about the halls of the palace for the first time in many months. The elder bears that telltale mark of the Tudors upon his head, crowned with that same red-gold as his mother, while the younger favours an altogether more Mediterranean aspect in his dark hair and eyes, courtesy of his father.
Their nurse hurries along behind them, admonishing them for their indecorous behaviour as they run back and forth to avoid her; and laughing with them. Such is their joyful excitement, it is hard not to be infected by it: so many new chambers to explore, so many new things to see. Yes, they are Princes; but they are also rambunctious boys who have been brought home to their parents. That is a rare thing for any royal child.
"Your highness! Prince Edward! Compose yourself!" the words come out amidst gulps of laughter, but the boy is old enough to know his obligations and comes to a halt, "Yes, Mistress Peake."
His example causes his brother to do likewise, "Yes, Mistress Peake."
She smiles at them. For all their energy, they remain well governed, good boys, "Thank you, your Highnesses. Your royal parents shall come by later this morning, and we must be ready to greet them, must we not?"
Her smile widens indulgently at their delighted expressions.
The sound of footsteps captures her attention, and they turn to see one of the Queen's ushers, followed by a young woman who smiles and curtseys impeccably, "Your Highnesses, I am Mistress Dudley. I have been tasked by your royal mother with the management of your household." There is a confidence in her voice; a sense of presence that comes from royal approval, "Their Majesties have asked me to convey their joy at your return, and that they look forward to visiting you prior to your formal return to Court."
The older woman looks rather startled; having expected a man to have made such a greeting, "Is there no Steward, Madame?"
For a moment, Mistress Dudley dithers slightly: as though surprised to be challenged; yet - at the same time - not surprised. Her Lord and husband was most irked at the discovery that she had been appointed to a high position in the household of the Princes, being of a rather vain disposition and keen to make his own mark at Court without a regretted wife standing to his rear.
Then she straightens and inclines her head politely, "No, Madame; her Majesty wishes to recognise the worth and skill of the women of her Court to reflect her own good fortune in God's eyes as to be Queen of England. Thus she has looked upon my knowledge and has deemed me fit to see to the welfare and good governance of the Household of her Princes."
"Are you practiced in the management of a house, Mistress?"
"I have been well tutored in the skills required to govern the expenditure and activities of a well-managed house, I can assure you. My mother's health during my later years prior to my marriage became delicate, and thus I dealt with the management of my father's house. I am told that I did so most well."
Mistress Peake nods, less doubtful now, "If it be the Queen's will, then I am pleased to obey. Thank you, Mistress Dudley; the Steward of their household at Windsor has provided the household accounts for your perusal, and a chamber has been set aside for your work."
The two boys bob their heads politely as Mistress Dudley withdraws with another curtsey, and resume their examination of their new quarters, albeit in a rather more controlled fashion. The tapestries upon the walls of their Presence Chamber represent scenes from ancient myth, where heroes rage against the gods while strange beasts play amongst vines. Those myths are some of the boys' favourite stories; brought up on the writings of Homer and Socrates despite their tender years.
"Hal! Come see the view to the gardens!" Heir he might be, but Edward is not lacking for enthusiasm in all about him, or the excitements that always affect small boys. Decorum can come later, after all; he is not a King yet.
The weather is not conducive to exploration of the grounds that stretch from the frontage to the parkland beyond, and instead the pair stand, noses to the glass, and watch the curling mist of a frosty morning while jackdaws circle from the trees and call to one another. Now might not be the time, but the coming year promises grand adventures and games aplenty, and the two look forward to that with great anticipation.
Across the palace, in a grand chamber where the senior men of the Court are wont to gather when not at work, the mood is far less serene. Old Richmond, in the midst of a game of Primero with Wiltshire, Hackney and Warwick, looks up in annoyance at the continued griping of another of their number, seated with friends in a window alcove, "God's blood, Mr Dudley, it is as though the sky has fallen in upon you - but it is no more than your wife brought to court in the service of her Majesty! I assure you that I did not grouse so when my late Lady Wife walked in the train of the Dowager of Wales!"
Beside him, Warwick glowers in embarrassment, "Heed him, Robin. To gripe as you do looks most ill. Be proud that Amy has won favour with the Queen - it is not as though she can rob you of your court office!"
Across the room, Dudley glares at them all, "And would yoube content if yourslooked set to rise above you in royal favour? Nay - for you are the eldest, and thus all favour lies upon you. There is no obligation upon youto make your way in this world!"
"Then do as my Lord of Richmond did, Mr Dudley." Hackney advises, "Serve her Majesty diligently and honestly…"
"Mostly honestly." Richmond interjects, with a small smile.
"…and you, too, shall enjoy the favour that he has won." Hackney finishes, chuckling. They are aware of Richmond's sins in the old days of Henry's reign, and how he set such actions behind him.
"I, too, was not the heir." Richmond adds, "And thus I - as you do - looked to find success in royal service. Do not as I did; for even now the shades of those who suffered in the face of my duplicity haunt me in the night. I assure you that honest actions are the better way, and allow me to close my eyes to sleep."
Dudley reddens somewhat, and transfers his attention back to the other young men to whom he has been complaining. While he continues to grumble, he does so far more quietly.
"Give him time, friend Warwick," Wiltshire advises, "my father, too, looked to gain favour through conspiracy and sly planning - and near-on lost all for his pains. Not only did he return to favour through honest dealing, but also recovered his love for his wife, and thus I was born to them. There is hope that he shall do likewise."
"He is envious of you." Hackney reminds him, "He is, after all, the fourth of your father's sons. Even were you to falter, John would be next to receive all that you shall inherit, and then Ambrose. Furthermore, you hold his Earldom as a Courtesy Title, while John is Viscount Lisle by the same fashion. I think the only reason that young Guildford does not share in the ambitious determination to seek success is that your father has not yet brought him to Court, while Henry the younger has no wish to seek a career here."
"The perils of a large family, I fear." Warwick agrees, ruefully. "Robin is not a bad man, I assure you; merely ambitious. He shall receive a bequest from my father's estate, of course; but nothing more. To be part of a house that has risen to such heights, and not share in those rewards, cannot be an easy meal to sup."
"I hope that a time shall come when he shall not see his wife as a rival for royal patronage." Wiltshire sighs, "My father overcame that foolishness - had he not, then I should not be here to talk to you - so it can be hoped that Mr Dudley shall do likewise."
"And in less time than it took me to do so." Richmond adds, "Ambition is a great aid to progression at Court, but the Court of her Majesty's late father was a poisonous ants' nest in which such ambition could be harnessed to bad ends. I have seen little of that venom in her Majesty's Court, for she knows better than to govern her Courtiers under the influence of light words and gossip."
"Most ironic." Hackney observes, smiling ruefully.
The office is well furnished, with wide windows to let in as much light as possible, given the age and weakening sight of its occupant. In spite of his advancing years, Richmond has never lost his capacity for hard work; and, like the late Lord Essex, has become quite convinced that it is lack of work that shall end his days, not overmuch of it.
That said; there are times when he finds himself thinking upon the old days; the days when one's very life could be governed by the caprice of a King who delighted in gossip and backbiting. God knows that he himself took advantage of that temperament, and a decent man died for it. He shudders at the thought; the latent toxicity of that atmosphere led to a similar fate being planned for him: had he not discovered it, then he might well not be sitting in this office. Only that discovery saved him from remaining the vile man he had been at that time, and he gives thanks for it each morning during his devotions.
He sighs as he reaches for a letter that arrived this morning. Once again, his eldest son is setting those worst of his father's former traits upon open display, raising rents upon his lands, denying any relief to those who cannot pay, and now intending to turn an old widow out of her home in order to hand the property to one of his friends. Dear God…was I like this once?
Bearing his Barony of Leighs as a courtesy title, Robert has demanded, and received, lands and properties commensurate to his status as the son of an Earl; but he is neither a good nor decent landlord to his tenants. Indeed, one of his agents has reported that the younger Rich's reputation is already sullied amongst those who are subject to him, and it is often said by the folk of the shire: better a poor man at ease, than Lord Rich of Leighs.
They might once have said that about him - but instead they say it of his son. They certainly would have said it about his father, too. Perhaps his entire family is tainted by that sin…
He sets the letter aside and reaches for a sheet of fresh paper. Charging his quill, he settles down to write a reply. Much as he has no wish to endure his son's disdain, better to attempt to rein him in now, and the best way to do so is to tempt him to Court. For a young man of Robert's proud temperament, that shall hardly be difficult. Perhaps the influence of young courtiers like Hackney and Wiltshire might teach him that it is better to be honest in one's dealings with others. If nothing else, his poor behaviour might earn him a badly needed dressing-down from the Queen.
Handing the completed missive to a steward, he returns his attentions to the forthcoming progress to the home of Lord and Lady Kent. The Queen's anticipation of the visit rises with each passing week; and, with no certainty that he will be able to arrange another, he has no wish to disappoint his Monarch.
The Court will, in a month's time, move to Eltham Palace prior to setting off. With summer approaching, the need to be out of London is always pressing, after all, for fear of plague; but that short journey will be the first of a sequence of moves: a short stay at Knole, then a period as guests of Sir Richard Clement at the charming moated house of Ightham Mote, and then the final journey to Leeds. They shall make the trip over the course of four or so weeks at a slow, leisurely pace, and there shall be entertainments, sports and tourneys along the way to entertain both the Court and the two young princes, who shall also now be with the Queen's train.
Clement's letter accepting the accommodation of a horde of courtiers is so delighted that Richmond smiles to read it. For most, such an invasion would be regarded both with delight, and horror; for all the honour of a royal visit, the cost is always crippling, particularly for the smaller estates whose houses cannot accommodate everyone under a solid roof. Doubtless many shall be required to sleep under canvas, even though Elizabeth prefers to move with a smaller entourage than her father ever did. Ah well: such is the price of proximity to the throne.
Richmond smiles to himself, a touch wickedly; perhaps he should assign young Robert Dudley a billet under canvas. If only to ascertain the degree of the tantrum it would inspire; it would be amusing to do so. Shaking his head in mild amusement, he turns his attention to other papers as a small clock strikes the hour.
Elizabeth looks up from the itinerary with a smile, "Thank you, my Lord; whilst I am most keen to reach my Mother's house, I am also not unaware of the requirements of a large party upon the move. I trust Sir Richard Clement is to be compensated to some measure for our imposition upon him?"
Richmond nods, "Yes, Majesty; the Crown shall meet the cost of extra victuals for the Courtiers who are present, and for the accommodation of those who cannot be settled inside his house. He shall provide entertainments, and meet the costs of accommodating those who are housed within his walls. He was insistent upon meeting all costs, but we persuaded him that to do so might lead to his being obliged to sell the estate in order to recover from them."
There is a mild ripple of amusement around the Council table: several of those sitting there have been obliged to meet such costs in the past, and welcome the assistance that the Crown provides.
"I am aware of the tales told of my father's progresses, and the costs incurred in hosting them, my Lords." Elizabeth advises, "Perhaps I, too, might have been willing to make such an imposition upon my nobles, but I know, too, of noble and gentry families who have never recovered from such a visit. I am convinced that the Holy Father would be most displeased with me for demanding so much from others when I am blessed with greater riches than they."
She pretends not to notice the pleased, and rather indulgent, smiles of her accumulated Councillors. Even now she is still regarded almost as a favoured daughter by some of them, though they endeavour not to show it, for they respect her for the Queen she is, and know better now than to consider her to be no more than a mere woman.
Northumberland, in response to her recognition, rises to his feet, "I fear I must dampen our pleasure at this point, Majesty; for our Ambassador in France has been advised by her Majesty the Regent's spies that King Philip of Spain is sounding it about that he wishes to revive the claim for England's throne on behalf of the former Lady Mary."
Eyebrows are raised all around the table; having abandoned her to her fate after the failure of her attempted invasion, it seems that Philip's desire to claim England has taken on a new complexion. Even the likelihood that the poor woman is now dead seems not to be an obstacle to his ambition.
"Is he aware that my sister is presumed dead?" Elizabeth asks, irked at the suggestion that a late relative is being abused in such fashion.
"Probably - but the fact that she is presumeddead gives him sufficient room to pretend that she is not. Philip requires a focus for his claim, or none shall heed him; even though the late Lady herself could not inspire your fellow Princes to depose you, he still attempts to use her name to achieve that end."
"What of the Queen Regent?"
"I am advised that she regards Philip's plaints with scepticism, and prefers to retain good relations with England. Costly wars have impacted upon her coffers as much as Philip's and trade with a stable realm keeps the exchequer healthier than squabbling over borders or religious matters." Northumberland pauses, "Though I think that, were she in a better position to do so, she might consider allying with Spain to win England for Rome."
"In other words, steal our wealth." Richmond grunts, cynically.
Elizabeth smiles, a little thinly, "Advise our Ambassador to keep watch upon matters, and ensure that he is aware of our plans. Should matters change between France and Spain, I would expect to know of it as soon as can be managed, rather than have a messenger chasing from house to house in search of us."
"Speaking of matters religious, Majesty," Wiltshire takes up, "We have received pleas for help from the Low Countries again. They wish to continue to take up arms against the oppression of Spain, and look to their neighbours for aid."
"Surely we should provide at least some degree of assistance?" young Warwick asks, worriedly, "It is hard to ignore such suffering of our fellow Christians while we sit in safety and watch from afar."
Rather than scold him, Northumberland sighs, "I wish that it could be done; but that safety is reliant upon our trade agreements and treaties. To dispatch men at arms to the Low Countries would abrogate them, and we would find ourselves at war."
"I, too, wish that such a thing could be done, my Lord Warwick." Elizabeth agrees, "I pray each morn for the succour of those who suffer under the weight of such intolerance. The safety of our Realm is of equal importance however, and I can do no more than offer sanctuary to any who might flee the cruelties of Philip's inquisitors. King John of Sweden has done likewise. If our neighbours will not follow our example of tolerance of both faiths, then all that we can do is offer a haven for those who are obliged to flee in order to seek it."
"And if they bring their skills as weavers and merchants with them, who are we to decline such largesse?" Richmond adds, cheerfully, "Thus, all benefit."
Elizabeth smiles, as another ripple of amusement crosses the table, "Then go to, my Lords. If we are to depart before midsummer, we should take steps to be ready."
"No, Stuart; set that robe with the items to be sent to St Bartholomew." Richmond looks up from his chair in the oriel to the work of his manservant as he sorts his way though the Earl's closets to remove the excessive possessions that have accumulated during their stay at Placentia. With the move to Eltham imminent, the fewer coffers he is obliged to bring with him, the fewer men he shall need to cart them about. The Queen has, after all, been insistent that her train be as limited as possible to ease the burden upon Sir Richard Clement. While they are only staying at one non-Royal property, it is still the home of a man who is not overwhelmed with riches.
"I am glad to be left behind, I think, my Lord." His companion this morning is an unusual one, for Richmond has never been overly fond of Sir William Paget. The man is, however, the Queen's secretary - an able replacement for the long-dead Thomas Wriothesley - but has taken the opportunity to retire from the Queen's service and return to his estates to see out the rest of his years. For a man who has not benefited as much as others in royal service, he seems remarkably lacking in bitterness; but he, too, seems to have mellowed in the face of a far less brutal political atmosphere in the palaces.
"I fear we shall be most bereft in your absence, Sir William." Richmond smiles, raising his cup in salute, "Your orderliness and patience have been to the great benefit of the realm. I am at a loss to fathom how we shall cope without you."
Paget smiles, "Nay, my Lord. I have found an able replacement. A young lawyer residing at Lincoln's Inn, who is wasted there. Already he has obtained a place in Parliament, and looks to be a most talented man."
The description is familiar to Richmond, "Ah, you are referring to young Cecil, are you not? I have heard of him; and I concur with your assessment. Does he show interest in a Court career?"
"Do not all men of his origins desire a Court career?" Paget smirks, "He is of gentry origins, and gentlemen are now considered to be the equal of noblemen in terms of the service that they can give to the Crown."
"As I know well from personal experience." Richmond chuckles, "Her Majesty is a sun about whom all men are willing to set their orbit. Thanks be to God that He sends her men of talent."
Their discussion is interrupted by a knock upon the door. Opening it, Stuart turns to the two men in the Oriel, "My Lord, His Grace the Baron of Leighs."
Seeing the expression on the face of the young man in the doorway, Paget rises, "I shall be on my way, my Lord. My best wishes for a safe journey for your Grace and the Court. Good day."
As he departs, Richmond almost wishes he could go, too. His son is scowling with annoyance, and he does not relish the interview that is to come. Instead, he rises, "Come in, Robert."
"I have plans, Father." Leighs answers, crossly, "I do not appreciate their being interrupted."
"Regardless of plans or aspirations, I remain your father. Is it truly beyond your ability to offer even a pretence of filial deference?"
The scowl deepens. Richmond chooses to ignore it, "Is Elizabeth well?"
"Well enough. She is with child again, so I considered it unwise to subject her to a journey."
This shall be like pulling teeth, Richmond thinks to himself, but steps aside, "Please: be seated Robert. There is a goodly sack to drink, and some wafers."
Despite his attempts to smooth the waters, Leighs seems uninterested in reciprocating, "Speak quickly, Father. If I am to be entombed at Court, then I would wish to introduce myself to those with whom I am interred."
Oddly, for a moment, Richmond's throat narrows, as though tears shall shortly rise; but instead he forces himself to stand up as straight as his aged frame will permit, "Regardless of your majority, or your age, you are still my son. Should you wish to remain so, I charge you to treat me with respect. Even if it be naught but a mask of deceit."
He is not surprised to see the threat of disinheritance has the effect that a plea to good conscience does not. Disappointed - but not surprised. It is the only power he has over the young man that he sired, so what else can he do but wield it?
Resentment exuding from every pore, Leighs takes Paget's recently vacated seat in the oriel, and glowers as Stuart sets out a fresh cup in order to pour out the promised sack. Fighting to conceal his distress, Richmond returns to his chair and looks out of the window at the small court-garden beyond, "I am told that you have raised the rents on the estates that I settled upon you."
"They were too low. The tenants had become lax, so I gave them a reason to become more industrious. If they cannot pay, then it is for them to find a place more suited to their idleness."
God's wounds woman! If they must work harder to pay their due, then they must work harder! Your soft heart has no place in a world of commerce!
Richmond blinks at the stirred memory. How old had he been? Had he even reached his tenth year when his father had reprimanded his mother for her concerns over the rents he was charging his tenants? If there had ever been a time when his father was kind, he has no memory of it.
"And what of Widow Sefton? She has resided in that small manor for the entirety of her married days, and the memories it contains are a great comfort to her. Your late mother spent many pleasant hours in her company."
"She is an old woman in a large house that needs no more than a bed in an almshouse. James Glover is looking to marry well, and he cannot do it without suitable property."
"If he cannot earn property through his own skill, then he does not deserve it. I had no inheritance, so I sought to make my way in the world."
Leighs does not look at him; he has no answer to such a statement. He has earned nothing that is not an inheritance, and seems to spend more than he makes. Though his father does not say so, they both know that the rents have actually been raised to recover debts caused by his profligacy.
"I should like to see Elizabeth and the boys before the year's end." Richmond continues, since his son has no wish to speak, "Her Majesty has permitted me to invite family to join the Court at Leeds, and there shall be more than sufficient space to accommodate both Lizzie and my grandsons alongside you." But not whatever mistress you have concealed behind the arras.
He watches as his son swallows down the sack with a sour grimace, "Get you gone, Robert. If you have no wish to keep my company then seek it elsewhere. Know, however, that her Majesty does not appreciate unfilial offspring, and also that your inheritance remains secure only because I have not yet opted to change my will. If that is the only language between us that you understand, then that is the language that I shall, perforce, speak to you."
Without a word, Leighs rises, bows to his father with that same air of resentment, and departs.
"Shall I pour more sack, my Lord?" Stuart asks, sympathetically, as he sees his master slump in his chair again.
Richmond shakes his head. His eyes sad, the loyal manservant withdraws as the old man gazes tearfully out of the window.
Elizabeth reviews the accounts of her sons' household and smiles, "Thank you, Mistress Dudley, these are most satisfactory."
"Thank you, Majesty." Amy bobs a polite curtsey, "Mistress Peake's expenditure is undertaken with great care. I find that my work is made the easier for her good governance."
The Queen laughs, "It might surprise you, Mistress Dudley; but Mistress Peake has spoken much the same of you. I think you both to be excellent governors of my childrens' household."
Amy curtseys again, her cheeks pink with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure at the compliment. The Queen has noted already the improvement in her demeanour as she blossoms in the light of the trust placed in her, though Elizabeth is not blind to the reciprocal disgruntlement of her husband as his wife's presence at Court looks set to equal his own in value to their Monarchs. Men do not like to be eclipsed by the women in their lives, after all.
She chooses not to enquire into the private matter of Amy's relationship with her ambitious husband. For all his talent as her Master of the Horse, Robert's resentment at his lesser position in his own family could not be more obvious, for he sets it upon display at the least opportunity. Even his recent appointment to the Council has done little to quell it - though it has certainly increased his conceit at the privilege he has been given over many of the other younger men of the Court. Does he know that they tolerate him only because they might gain preference on the back of his greater status? Perhaps not; but those who stand outside that circle and look into it know well that his wife is - at this moment - the more well regarded of the two.
Granting the young woman consent to depart, Elizabeth rises from her desk and makes her way through the passages between her apartments and those of her sons. Regardless of her worries and work, she is intent upon spending as much time as she can in their company. They will not be young forever, after all.
"Mama!" Edward looks up from his books as she enters their solar, and hastens from the table to her open arms. God above, she loves this studious child; almost her own image in both looks and mind.
The sound of his brother's voice brings young Henry out of the ante-chamber that he uses to conceal his preference to play with toy soldiers rather than read his lessons, and the boy hastens to join Edward in his mother's embrace, "Mama!"
"My dear boys!" she laughs, "Shall we step out into the gardens awhile? The weather is too nice to be cooped up inside these chambers, is it not? Besides, we have much to discuss, for you must be ready for our progress to visit your Grandmama."
Henry claps his hands in delight, while Edward's expression also brightens at such a prospect. They have visited their Grandmother on occasion, but their enclosed lives as Princes give them little opportunity to escape the confinement of palace walls. To combine both that escape, and a visit to Grandmama Anne is the height of good fortune in their young eyes, and they chatter excitedly to each other as she leads them out into the privy garden.
"When are we to leave, Mama?" Edward asks, "Soon?"
"Yes, my darling, we are to leave soon. First we shall go to Eltham, where your Grandpapa lived when he was a boy. Then we shall travel to Knole, where we shall stay a few days. After that, we shall go to stay with Sir Richard Clement, who has a most delightful manor house that is surrounded by a moat."
She smiles at their excitement; they have never stayed in any house that has a moat, after all.
"And then?" Henry prompts.
"Then we shall go to your Grandmama's house, and we shall stay there for the whole of the summer. There is a great park, in which you can ride, and you shall learn to fly hawks, and to hunt. There shall be boats on the lake if the weather is hot, and feasting aplenty." She opts not to mention that their tutor shall be travelling with them. Why spoil their anticipation with the promise of schooling in the midst of their pleasure?
The sound of footsteps upon gravel captures her attention, and she looks up to see her husband approaching, "Ah, Majesty; I wondered where you might be. It seems that I am not alone in my wish to spend some time in a fragrant garden."
"Papa!" the two boys leap up to run to their father, who greets them with an embrace, "We are to go to Grandmama's with you!"
"Are you indeed?" He asks, as though this is a startling discovery, though he has known as much as Elizabeth that this has always been the intention, "That is excellent news!"
"Did you not know?" Henry asks, in all innocence.
Philip laughs and tousles his son's hair, much to the child's annoyance, "Papa!" immediately, he smooths the hair down again.
The boys step back from his embrace and race one another around the perimeter of the garden, while Philip sits down on a bench with his wife, "It is good to have them here, my beloved. I am most grateful that my concerns were not heeded."
"Am I not always right, Filipe?" Elizabeth smiles at him, archly.
"Always, my Queen." He smiles back, holding her hand tightly as their children play in the sunshine, "Always."