The Most Dangerous Enemy Page 2

  Marriage was a dangerous state for a woman, and all the more dangerous when that woman was a queen. When one rose high, there was further to fall…

  And yet… of late… I had been given reasons to ponder on the choices I had thought were set in stone within my heart, on the truths I had held as certainties.

  Robin. My Eyes. My friend…. He had become more and more of a temptation. He had called on my heart and mind to question all I had once trusted as solid truth, and it seemed that there may come a time when the obstacle that had first endeared me to his company, would be an obstacle no longer.

  Rob had told me that his wife was sick unto death; ill of a malady of the breast. A growth, a canker, lay within her, slowly gnawing at her life. She was dying, he said, and there was nothing physicians could do. Poor Amy Dudley; Robin had loved her once, I think. They were married young, and were once a bonny couple, but as he spent more and more time with me as my servant, his love for her had waned. He did not go to visit her often, sick though she was, for his duties to me kept him busy at court. I sometimes wondered if Amy resented me for keeping Robin to myself… But such was the lot of those in high position at court, and they all knew the sacrifices when they took up their offices. Rob was mine first, and not only as a servant of the Queen of England, but as servant to the love that had come to grow between us.

  I knew now that if his wife should die of this canker of the breast, then Robin would enter the lists as one of my suitors in earnest. When Amy was gone from this world, I would have another contender for my hand, and for the place my advisors wished filling, beside me on the throne. With all other suitors, I was happy to take their praise, and flattery, offering them nothing but false hope in return… Such deceits were a part of the games of power we played at court. But with him, with my bonny Robin, the temptation to actually marry was stronger than with any other man.

  I sighed, feeling restless. I wanted not to think so much of these things. It seemed that all my Councillors and advisors ever talked of these days were when and who I would marry. I needed not my own thoughts assailing me too. I had found there was happiness in simply enjoying the delights that my position brought to me. I had become a creature of the moment, of the present, since I came to the throne. Perhaps I always was. For, to a survivor, the present moment is often all there ever is.

  Walking back to my chambers, I practised a galliard in my bedchamber with my still-sleepy ladies. I found that the dance woke my blood and lifted my spirits for another morning grappling with the affairs of court and my England. I broke my fast on some small amounts of good, fluffy bread, light ale and slices of cold, roasted meats. I was not of a large appetite as many of my family had been before me; aside from the sweet treats the palace kitchens made especially for me, knowing my preference for them, I was a spare eater. My stomach suffered if too much was placed within it, and I preferred to keep my figure thin and lithe.

  My ladies dressed me for riding. Dressing the Queen could take a long time; many parts of my gowns had to be assembled, sewn onto me, and then unpicked again at night. If there was a court entertainment, or a visiting dignitary, then I could stand for two hours or more as my ladies dressed me, adjusting sleeves, gowns, or kirtles, choosing jewels and stitching them into the heavy fabric of my glorious gowns. So much of being the Queen was to ensure that one looked the part, as well as acted it. I must be awe inspiring, I must be fascinating… I must glow and glitter in the eyes of my people; the radiant and powerful symbol of their country. My ladies-in-waiting and my maids of honour were ordered to dress always in shades of black and white, leaving the most glorious colours for me. I must be able to be seen in a crowd, recognised above all others as the Queen. They rankled against such stipulations in private, but they did not disobey me. They could wear what they liked, within the stipulations of the law, when outside the court. But here, they were here to serve me, and to obey.

  As Kat placed my new riding hat upon my head, and adjusted the white plumes of feathers on its side, she looked affectionately at me in the mirror. I smiled back, understanding that my oldest companion took some pleasure in seeing me happy, even if she worried at the source of the happiness… as many did. Many at court did not like my attachment to Robin. Cecil and others on my Council wanted me to marry a foreign prince, for power, for wealth, for siring Tudor babes from my body. Many of them detested my attachment to Robin, and worried that I might choose him rather then one of the fabulous princes on display at my court. Many of the nobles at my court could not understand why I should favour Robin Dudley, son and grandson of traitors, over them. Oh yes, many in England and beyond disliked the friendship between Rob and me. They believed, at the very least, that he was standing in the way of my ever making a choice on the matter of my husband. But I had ever found that my own counsel was the one I should keep. I would not send away my Master of Horse for the jealousy and envy of others.

  I headed out from my bedchamber, through the Privy Chamber and the Presence Chamber with my women in tow behind me, their rich gowns of white and black rustling against the rushes and herbs that lined the floors of the palace. Through the court we marched, straight to Robin’s chambers where I found him eating.

  “Late riser,” I scolded with mocking disapproval as I wandered in without announcement. Many found our lack of formality with each other shocking, but I had never been one to stand on ceremony with friends, most of the time. “There were other robins wide awake hours before you, singing to me as I walked through my gardens.” I put my hands on my hips and lifted an eyebrow at him.

  Rob put aside his light meal and smiled, rising to come and kiss my hand. He swept into a graceful bow, his short beard tickled teasingly at the soft, white skin of my hand. “Then, I am most jealous, my Queen, of those who sang to you as you rose,” he lifted his eyes to me in mischief. “Perhaps one day I may gain that pleasure… to attend on you in the first moments of the day?”

  “You would have to be awake, Rob,” I laughed, watching the merry sparkle in those dark eyes light up as they looked over my new gown. I was not as pretty as many of the court ladies, I knew well enough. But with my bright red hair and pale skin, my large black eyes and whip-slim waist, I was striking. And I had the grace of my position to add to my natural allurements… There is an attraction in power… all men feel it. I knew that he was thinking I looked well that morning. “And it seems as though the early morning cannot tempt you to rise.” I smiled, removing my hand as he rose from his bow.

  “But my Queen might tempt me to rise…” he insinuated, naughtily, dancing away from my hand as I playfully slapped at his side for his rascally jest.

  “Come, Sir Still-A’ bed,” I commanded. “I would ride out, and my Master of Horse is not ready for me.”

  “I keep your stables in such good order, Your Majesty,” Robin bragged, “that I do not need to be in them at each hour.”

  I grunted at him, but I did not doubt his words; he was a fine Master of Horse and his servants were as charmed with his manners as they were in awe of his position and the favour he held with the Queen. Robin could inspire great love in people, just as he could also inspire great jealousy. Such is the way of power; we make as many friends as we do mortal enemies, and the higher we are raised, so the greater risk we take to fall. The court of my father had been the perfect model of such scraping and fawning for power… As my own mother had learned all too late…

  “Come, then,” I shook my head as though I could banish such ill thoughts merely with its motion. It was a bright and goodly day. I did not wish to linger on sorrows of the past any more than I wished to be inside when I could be out.

  “Hawking today, Your Majesty?” Rob asked as we left his chambers side by side, with my ladies scrambling to keep pace behind. Ambling courtiers in the passageways turned to stare at us. My trips and incursions at any hour to Robin’s chambers were part of the reason people gossiped about us. What fools they were! There was nothing improper between Rob and me. Had

  I been a king, then no one would have thought it strange I spent so much time with my Master of Horse. Even if I had wanted to do anything illicit with Robin, I was surrounded at all times by ladies, servants and throngs of people! If I had wanted an affair, I would have had to do so with the whole court watching me… not a thought that lends itself to romance…

  “No. I want to try the new crossbows sent from Throckmorton in France. I have heard it said that they are most advanced compared with our present weaponry.” We had reached the courtyard, Rob whistled sharply and servants of the stables came running with our mounts. I smiled ruefully at Rob; he had known that I wanted to ride out this morning, for the horses were already ready. He could not have known for sure as sometimes I did not wish to ride when there were pressing matters to attend to. How did he read me so well?

  “They are indeed, Your Majesty,” Robin agreed, talking of the crossbows as he helped me to mount my horse.

  I turned to him. “You have tried them already?” I demanded angrily, my changeable temper firing within my blood. “That is a privilege of the Queen, not of her servant.”

  “And if I did not test the bows to ensure they did not miss-fire into my Queen’s most beautiful face, or rip a clump of her luxurious hair from her head, then I think I would be in much greater trouble than I am now, Your Majesty,” he replied lightly.

  My anger dissolved as fast as it had risen. People said I had the fire of the Tudors in my temper, but Kat always said it was my mother’s temperament I had inherited. “You always have a care for me, Robin,” I said with affection as he mounted the horse next to me. To my side, my ladies were mounting their own horses to follow us.

  “Always, my lady,” he said softly. His dark eyes were gentle as I looked at him and I reached out to brush his face with my fingers. Such gestures were common, from me to him… Rob could not dare to touch the Queen with such familiarity, but I could dare to do anything, or so I thought… I was the ruler of these lands, after all.

  We rode to the range where I practised with the new crossbows and found them most satisfying. Robin and I shot side by side as my ladies and guards clapped admiringly from the sidelines. As I made a particularly fine shot, I turned to Robin to take his praise, but saw him looking off, away from me, towards the palace.

  “What is it?” I asked, squinting to see where he looked. My eyes were weak, and only seemed to grow weaker with the passage of the years. It was something I tried to hide from my courtiers, but I rarely hid anything from Robin. I could see only a shape where Rob was staring. But it was moving towards us.

  “A rider,” he said warily, “coming fast, Your Majesty.” Rob looked to the guards a little way off and whistled to St Loe, who looked up from giving orders to his men and looked in the direction Rob indicated. Suddenly, there was a tense air about us. There were many in this world who wanted me removed from my throne, a Protestant queen on a throne surrounded by a sea of Catholic kings, and their leader, the Pope. Due to the nature of my mother’s fall from grace, I was still considered a bastard in many realms and minds about the world. Many thought that I should not be upon the throne of England… they doubted my claim for my birth, for my faith and for my sex… There were many who looked with covetous eyes on my crown; my cousins Mary Stewart, Queen of Scots, and Lady Katherine Grey, eldest daughter of the notorious Grey family not least amongst them. One lucky strike would be enough to take me from the throne and plunge my realm into confusion and anarchy as my many distant cousins fought for the crown. My life was most worried about by my Council, and my people. I was more precious to them than any jewel or gold, for there was only one of me, and I was mortal.

  The guards rose, St Loe ordering them to stand and be ready, but it was becoming clear that there was but one rider, and he was seeking us. His horse rode hard across the wet earth of the park, sending clumps of mud flying from its hooves. As the rider pulled up and dismounted, St Loe’s guards surrounded him.

  “He says he’s here to give an important message to you, my lord,” St Loe called to Rob. “His name is Bowes, and he says he’s a servant of your house.”

  “I know him,” shouted Robin. “Let him come forward.”

  The man was filthy; mud-splattered clothes and a red, sweaty face spoke of riding hard and fast on sodden roads. I lifted my perfumed pomander of musk and rose oils on a golden chain at my waist to my nose to banish the scent of his sweat; ill odours of the body were not pleasing to me.

  “What on earth is it, Bowes?” Robin asked, looking at him with confusion.

  “My lord,” the man tried to catch his breath even as he spoke, an expression of trepidation and of something darker on his face. “I bring ill news of your wife, the Lady Amy Dudley. “

  I drew in a breath; the woman must have died of her ailing body. The canker which had lain in her breast must have finally taken her life. A sudden flush came to my cheeks as I thought on the possible implications of Amy Dudley being removed from this life… was Robin free now, then? Would he be free to become mine, as we had spoken of this summer? For a moment, I knew not what to think or feel. It was as though I was being handed both a wish and a fear at the same time. Could I really choose to give up my personal power, and take a husband? Even now, I knew not. But then, the man continued to speak.

  “She has died, my lord.” Bowes looked at his filthy gloves suddenly, as though he could not meet Rob’s eyes. “We… we found her body, my lord… at the bottom of a staircase in Cumnor Place.”

  Both Robin and I stared at the man.

  “What do you mean?” Robin asked, his voice harsh with shock. “Speak, man! What do you mean she was found at the bottom of a staircase?”

  Bowes seemed unwilling to answer but he did so, his gaze flitting from Rob to me, his cheeks flushing brighter; “It… it seems as though she may have… fallen… and broken her neck, my lord,” he stammered.

  “Fallen down the stairs and broken her neck?” repeated Robin slowly, as though he did not believe it. He sounded bewildered.

  “Aye, my lord,” Bowes dared to glance up at his master, his eyes wary and uncertain. “But there are whispers already abroad that…” he trailed off, looking at me, and then at the muddy ground.

  “That, what?” Robin grew pale. But of course he knew the answer. He had been courting me all summer, and our affection for one another was well known and gossiped about. There had been rumours that his wife was dying of a natural ailment, but now she was found at the bottom of a staircase, dead. There were many who would say this was not an accident. There were many who would say that the ambitious Lord Robert Dudley had many a good reason to remove an inconvenient wife from his path.

  I put a hand on Rob’s arm warningly, to stop him before he said anything that could be misconstrued. “The court will enter official mourning for Lady Dudley,” I announced loudly, “and an investigation into this matter will be conducted, of course. I am sure this was a tragic and most terrible accident, but all measures will be taken to prove that there was no foul play, for Lord Dudley’s sake, as well as that of the Lady Dudley’s family.”

  Robin paled more and looked at me. A fear that I dared not name entered my heart when I looked on his expression. What did I see in those dark and sparkling eyes? Was it fear, of what people would say? Was it sorrow to learn of the death of his wife? Or was it something else… something darker?

  We sent the messenger back, and as we moved to get on our horses I grabbed at Robin’s arm. “In God’s name, Robin,” I whispered. “Tell me that you had nothing to do with this awful event.” My voice was tight, taut with a terrible dread.

  Robin stared at me; his handsome face was grey and drawn. He looked suddenly aged. He seemed genuinely confused, but that did not mean I did not suspect him, as many would come to do also… I, who knew the power of his ambition so well, I who knew him so well; I loved Robin with all my heart, and yet even I knew that in the dangerous world of the court many men choose to take roads that others would never dream of in order to advance. Was it possible? Could the man I loved have taken such a step? Was it possible that this man would have done something to remove his wife, so that he might offer his hand and heart to me? Was it possible that Rob was capable of putting his ambition and his wants above the value of a human life? Was it possible that the man I had opened my heart to was capable of…

  … Murder?

  That ugly word echoed in my mind as I looked at him. Robin had everything to gain if his wife died: a throne; a Queen; money; riches; and what he loved most of all… power. Although I loved my Robin, My Eyes, it did not blind me to the idea that he had much to gain… the prospect of a match far beyond his wildest dreams. To become a king… what would a man risk for such a position?