Dudley.
He was so fashionably dressed, with his full, stiff sleeves and
shoulder wings of yellow brocade, he looked like a fashion apparition,
a ghost from a Parisian tailor's den.
"Good day," he said to Melville, looking around at the otherwise empty
cabin. "I see she means us to be alone." He laughed. "Sometimes my
Queen is complex, sometimes simple." He turned around so that Melville
could view his costume. "Does this pass muster? I understand the
Queen of Scots is very fashionable and sends regularly to Paris for
patterns and material."
Melville laughed, too. Then he looked carefully at Dudley and
concluded a woman could look far without doing better. And evidently
he had humour and humility.
"Very smart, my Lord."
"And what will you tell your mistress?" Dudley seated himself nearby
on a cushioned bench. He looked directly at Melville, but smiled.
"That you are pretty on the eyes," he replied.
Dudley made a disparaging sound. "Good sir, we are alone. My Queen
arranged it and I thank her for it, for such an opportunity is rare.
Let me use it to assure you I have no pretensions of marrying so far
above myself. It would be an insult to the Queen of Scots, as well I
know. I am not worthy to wipe her shoes!"
Melville felt the boat moving as the rowers took her out into the
mainstream of the river. But the lurching was within himself, not the
boat. What was this all about? Was nothing certain or honest here?
"That is a strange utterance, coming from you," he finally said.
"It is all Cecil's doing! My secret enemy. He means me to offend both
Queens and be utterly out of favour, leaving all power at court to him.
For if I seem to desire the marriage, I offend my Queen by
unfaithfulness and yours by presumption; and if I seem not obedient to
it then I likewise offend mine by disobedience and yours by insult. So
either way, I am discredited and dispossessed of my Queen's favour." He
slumped miserably on his seat.
Melville almost felt sorry for this proud man, reduced to a woman's
pawn by circumstance. He was like a sacrificial bull to their
ambitions.
"I think neither Queen will require anything of you," was all he could
say.
"Pray beg your Queen's pardon for my seeming presumption," insisted
Dudley.
Several days later the sacrificial bull was led to kneel at Westminster
before his Queen, and the peers in their Parliament robes, and to be
made Earl of Leicester a title last borne by Henry V and hitherto
reserved for princes alone. It was all very solemn, until Elizabeth
leaned forward and, in fastening his robes of estate, let her hand
caress and tickle his neck.
De Seurre, the French ambassador, looked at Melville and made a cynical
face.
As the party turned to process out, Elizabeth stopped to speak to
Melville and the ambassador.
"How like you the new Earl of Leicester?" she asked eagerly,
brightly.
Ahead of her, Lord Robert was walking straight and proud in his new
embroidered cape with its fur trimmings, and before him Henry Lord
Dam-ley was bearing the sword of honour.
"He is a happy servant who has a mistress who can discern and reward
good service and worthiness," Melville replied. To leap from simple
"Sir Dudley" to a royal earl ship was a head-spinning elevation.
"Yet you like better yonder long lad," said Elizabeth, pointing toward
Damley.
She knew! She had found out his secret mission! What spy how ? Or
was she simply so devious herself it was impossible to fool her?
"No woman of any spirit would make choice of such a man, who resembles
a woman, not a man! He is lady-faced, and has no beard," said Melville
stoutly.
"Indeed," Elizabeth said, smiling sweetly. "Yet he carries the sword
well, being as supple and strong as a blade himself."
SIXTEEN
And then what did she do?" Mary asked. She and Melville were closeted
in the tiny chamber off her bedroom in Holyrood.
"She made no further reference to 'yonder long lad' and he is 'long,"
Your Majesty. So I cannot know what she knows, or has surmised. I
believe I was unobserved when I visited the Countess of Lennox, but I
am not certain. I am relatively sure that my conversation there could
not have been overheard." He sighed. The entire time in England had
been strained, and even the boots were not made to his satisfaction.
Mary took a blackberry tart let from a platter and offered Melville
one.
He declined. She took her time chewing before asking, "Is he taller
than I?"
She stood up, her loose gown falling in thick columns from her waist.
"I believe so. And I must say he is handsome. Of course I twisted
that when she asked what I thought of him, so that it seemed to be a
flaw rather than a gift. As first prince of the blood at court, he led
the ceremonies, and made a pretty showing."
"Hmmm." She smiled. "And spoke well, you say?" She returned to her
seat and leaned back in the chair. Could it be possible .. just
possible ... that this cousin of hers, who looked so right on paper,
could also be personally attractive to her?
"More than well. Exquisitely. I had occasion to speak to him at
length several times."
"And what did you speak of?" She had begun twirling a thick strand of
hair around her finger.
"Nothing, really." He could not remember. It had been insubstantial
the weather, popular tunes, court gossip. "Lord Dudley was also well
spoken," he added as an afterthought. "He is an interesting man."
"Could you see what captured Elizabeth's fancy in him?"
Yes. Yes, he could. "It is difficult to understand any woman's fancy,
let alone a queen's. A queen's heart is unfathomable," replied the
diplomat. "And particularly this Queen's. Let me tell you what she
did: she tried to make me disloyal to you!"
"No! How?" Mary's eyes sparkled with excitement. She left off
playing with her hair and stared at Melville.
At that moment he coolly analyzed her features, the ones Elizabeth had
interrogated him about. Her hair was undoubtedly one of her best
attributes, shiny, thick, curly, and of a luxuriant red-brown. But her
pink and white colouring and her slanting, luminous, amber-coloured
eyes were so striking they created an impression of fragile vitality if
such a paradox made sense, he thought. The life was there, the high
spirits, the joie de vivre, but the physical body delicate. She
suggested fleeting joys and elegiac pleasures; she made a man want to
hold her right now, today, in this moment.
He tried to shut out such disrespectful thoughts toward the woman who
was his earthly sovereign.
"She flirted with me," he said.
"How?"
"She put on different gowns and asked me to judge which of them was
most flattering."
Mary burst out laughing. "And which did you choose?"
"The Italian. She has a wardrobe of gowns from every country, and she
wore one day the English, the next the French, and so on. But the
Italian flattered her most, as it allowed her to show her hair wearing
a caul and bonnet."
"And what is her hair like?"
"Ah, now you sound like her! Her hair is more reddish than yellow, and
curls naturally. But she asked about yours, and which colour of hair
is preferable, and who had the fairest?"
"No!" Mary cried. "Surely she must have toyed with you?"
"Indeed, she was in complete earnest. She demanded me to declare which
was the fairest."
"And?"
"I said that the fairest of both was not your worst faults. Then," he
lamented, "she asked me to declare outright which of you was the
fairest. That was simple. I said you were the fairest Queen in
Scotland and she in England. But she was not satisfied with that. She
pressed me further. At length I said that each of you was the fairest
ladies in your countries, but that her complexion was paler, although
your colouring was lovely."
"And did that satisfy her?"
"Indeed no. For next she asked who was taller, and when I proclaimed
you to be of greater height, she replied, "Then she is too tall, for I
myself am exactly the right height." "
Mary burst out laughing.
"And she went on from there. She began to inquire about how you passed
your time, your interests. I replied that you had just returned from
Highland hunting, and that you often read histories, and sometimes
amused yourself in playing the lute and the virginals. Then she turned
on me Madam, she has a riveting eye, like a bird of prey and asked if
you played well. "Reasonably well, for a queen," I replied."
Mary made a face. "Traitor!"
"I thought it would disabuse her of the notion that she must excel in
all she does. But no! For she next arranged for me to 'accidentally'
overhear her playing. She affected to be embarrassed to be heard, but
it was no such thing. Then she inquired, once again, who played
better, yourself or her? I must confess, Your Majesty, I gave her the
praise, just out of weariness with this game."
"Ah! Double traitor then!"
"But it did not end, no. It went on, as she detained me two extra days
so that I might see her dance, and compare your skills. She queried me
as to who danced better, my Queen or herself? I answered that Your
Majesty danced not so high or disposedly as she did and 'twas true, for
she forgets all modesty in dancing and leaps about like a man. But,
God be thanked, she took it as a compliment and let me depart at long
last."
"How peculiar! She seems to have the same curiosity about me that I do
about Lord Darnley or Lord Robert," Mary said.
"She did and said other odd things. She took me up to her private
chamber and showed me portraits of you and Lord Robert. She kissed
your portrait and then said she would send either Lord Robert or a
great ruby as a token to you."
"But as to Darnley do you think she will grant him the necessary
passport?" Suddenly she knew she would be immensely disappointed if
she could not see Darnley in person.
"There is an even chance of it. Particularly if you seem warm to the
match with the new Earl of Leicester."
"Then, good Melville, write my tender cousin the Queen that I am deeply
disappointed that you have returned without the portrait of Lord
Robert, and disappointed that Leicester himself sent no token to me.
Tell her I await it. Then tell her how pleased I was to grant her
request about the Earl of Lennox, and mention that the father would
like the son to be able to see the estates just to see them, which he
never has. In the meantime I will send a handsome present."
Melville sighed. This seemed like a tennis match that would go on and
on. Serve, volley, serve .. . "Yes, Your Majesty."
After Melville had left, Mary sat looking out the window for a long
time. On paper, as she had said, this cousin looked so promising. He
was not a foreigner, he was of royal blood and also had a claim to the
English throne, and had spent time in France. He was even tall! He
sounded too good to be true.