Elizabeth appeared to be completely diverted by the new favorite. Norfolk and Sussex tittered together, and some of their followers were involved in quarrels with Robert’s men.

It was an intolerable position for Robert. Cecil was outwardly his friend, but Robert knew that he was merely following his cautious course; one word from the Queen that her indifference had turned to dislike, and Robert would have hardly a friend at Court. As for the people, he had never been popular with them; they had blamed him for all the scandal which had touched the Queen.

He was wondering whether he would support the marriage with the Archduke. But he could not do that; it would be to deny all that he had hoped for. He had ceased to look at Lettice, and was greatly disturbed because the Queen did not seem to be interested, while she herself continued to smile at Heneage. He had believed in the first place that when he dropped Lettice, she would drop Heneage; but she was clearly showing him that he and she were no longer on the old terms. If he were to continue at Court he would, like everyone else, have to obey the Queen.

He felt desolate and melancholy; and the Twelfth Night Festivities seemed to him the climax of his suffering, for during them Heneage was deliberately insulting. He ordered Leicester to ask the Queen a question, which was: “Which is the more difficult to erase from the mind, an evil opinion created by a wicked informer, or jealousy?”

This was a significant question, made doubly so since the man Elizabeth had once so evidently loved must ask it of her.

With the nonchalance to be expected of him, Robert put the question to the Queen, who smiling, pretended to consider deeply before answering: “My lord, it is my opinion that both are hard to be rid of, but jealousy is the harder.”

After the revels Robert, in a fury, sent one of his men to Heneage’s apartments with a warning that he should prepare himself for the arrival of the Earl of Leicester, who was about to set out with a stick with which he would administer a beating to Thomas Heneage.

Heneage’s reply was that the Earl of Leicester was welcome, but if he should come with a stick he would find a sword waiting for him.

Robert was baffled. He dared not provoke a duel, for duels had been forbidden by the Queen herself.

When the Queen heard of this she dismissed from Court the gentleman who had dared to take Robert’s message to Heneage. Dueling was forbidden by her command, and any man who took part in any attempt to provoke one should be punished.

She sent for Robert.

“As for you, my lord Leicester,” she said, without looking at him; “I beg of you, retire to your apartments.” She stamped her foot suddenly, crying out: “God’s Death, my lord! I have wished you well, but my favor is not so locked up in you, that others shall not participate thereof, for I have many servants, unto whom I have and will, at my pleasure, confer my favor; and if you think to rule here, I will have to teach you otherwise. There is one mistress here and no master. Those who by my favor become impudent, must be reformed. They should remember that as I have raised them up, so could I lower them.”

Robert bowed and without a word retired.

In the utmost dejection he kept to his apartments for four days. But at the end of that time Elizabeth cried in pretended surprise: “Where is my lord of Leicester? It seems some time since I saw him.”

He presented himself, and although she was gracious to him, she was no more than that.

Leicester is in decline, said his enemies gleefully.

Yet again she acted as though he meant no more to her than any other courtier.

Sussex openly flouted him while the Queen looked on.

Antagonisms flared up. Robert insisted that his followers wore blue stripes or laces that he might know them immediately and recognize any stranger among them. Norfolk put his followers into yellow laces. Quarrels were continually breaking out between the two factions; and the Queen’s reprimand was as harsh for Robert as it was for Norfolk.

In despair Robert asked permission to leave Court, and to his even greater despair it was granted.

He went to Kenilworth, asking himself if his dream were over. Not only did he fear that she would never marry him, but it seemed she had taken a violent dislike to him.

He tried to interest himself in enlarging the castle and extending its parks. When Kenilworth had come to him it had been a small estate, but he had spent thousands of pounds enlarging and beautifying it; and now it was one of the most magnificent places in the country.

Robert soon found that more trouble lay ahead, when his kinsman and servant, Thomas Blount, came riding to Kenilworth Castle. He had brought news that a man had sworn to Norfolk and Sussex that he had, for the sake of the Earl of Leicester, covered up a crime which the Earl had committed some time since; this concerned the death of Leicester’s wife which without doubt had been a case of murder.

The man who was thus attacking him, said Blount, was Amy’s halfbrother, John Appleyard.

“He has been talking in Norfolk, my lord; and this having come to the ears of those noble lords, they have lost no time in seeking out Appleyard and promising him rewards if he will say in a Court of Justice in London what he has been saying to his rustic friends.”

Robert laughed wryly. He said: “To think I have rewarded that man. Much land and possessions he owes to me. In the last years he has asked me now and then for help, but since I left Court I have not responded to his requests as readily as I did, so he must seek to be revenged on me.”

“My lord,” said Blount, “you must deny this charge. You have done so before. You will do so again.”

Robert shrugged his shoulders. “Once,” he said, “I was the Queen’s friend. Now I no longer enjoy that privilege. I see now that but for her I should not have escaped my enemies when Amy died.”

“But for her, Amy would not have died!” said Blount fiercely.

“The verdict was accidental death!” retorted Robert.

But he was listless. For the first time in his life a woman had turned against him and, no longer desiring his company, wished to be rid of him.

He was growing old. He was not the man he had been. Some of his ardor for living had deserted him.

Kat was alone with her mistress and, said Kat, this was like the old days before her dearest Majesty was called Her Majesty in public, and only in private by those who loved her.

“I remember it, Kat,” said Elizabeth.

“And the cards, dearest lady?”

“Aye, and the cards.”

“And now we have Master Cornelius Lanoy working for us to produce his elixir, you no longer have need of poor old Kat Ashley to look into the cards for you.”

“Will he produce it, think you, Kat?”

“If he should do what he says he will, dearest, he will find an elixir which will give eternal life and youth! Make sure that none but your own darling lips drink of it, for if it becomes common property that will do us little good. With everyone perpetually living and perpetually young, it would be as though Time stood still.”

“Nay,” said the Queen, “it shall only be Elizabeth who drinks of Lanoy’s mixture; but perhaps I’ll let my dear old Kat have a sip for old times’ sake.”

“Just a sip, Madam!”

“Mayhap two sips, for where should I be without you? If I am to live forever I must have Kat with me.”

“The man is a fraud, Madam.”

“Is it so then, Kat? Perhaps you are right.”

“You believe in him because Your Majesty believes that all the good you hope for will come to pass. Mayhap therein lies the secret of greatness. Others say ‘It cannot be.’ Great Bess says ‘It shall be!’ And because she is a witch and a goddess, there is good chance that she will be right.”

“You talk like a courtier, Kat.”

“Why, my love, you’ve lost another aglet from your gown. ’Tis the ruby and diamond, I’ll swear. And I wanted to fix it on the cloth of gold you’ll be wearing this night. And do I talk like a courtier then? But courtiers no longer talk as they once did.”

“What means that?”

“That one, who talked better than any and whose words pleased Your Majesty more than any I know of, is no longer with us.”

Elizabeth was silent.

“He is sad, I trow, to be away from Court,” said Kat.

“Doubtless he amuses himself with the women round Kenilworth!” snapped Elizabeth.

“You should not be jealous of Lettice Knollys, my darling.”

Elizabeth swung round, her eyes blazing and shining with tears; she slapped Kat sharply. Kat put her hand to her cheek and grimaced.

Then she said: “’Tis a pity. That ruby and diamond aglet will be lost, I swear; and it makes the pair.”

“Oh, be silent!”

Kat obeyed, and after a while Elizabeth burst out: “Why do you stand there sulking? Why do you not speak of him if you wish to?”

“Have I your gracious permission to speak of the man, Your Majesty?”

“What is it you have to say of him?”

“That it is sad to see Your Majesty fretting for him.”

“I fret for him! Leave fretting to that she-wolf!”

“To whom, Your Majesty?”

“That harlot, that lewd woman, that Lettice … or whatever her name is. She married some man … Hereford, was it? I pity him! I pity him!”

“Ah!” sighed Kat. “It is a sorry thing to see a man, once proud, fall low. The dogs are at his throat now, my lady. They’ll drag him to death and disgrace, if I mistake not.”

“Dogs! What dogs?”

Kat whispered: “His great and mighty Grace of Norfolk. My lord of Sussex. My lord of Arundel. They are the dogs who will tear our pretty gentleman to pieces. Does Your Majesty not know that they have taken John Appleyard and put the man to question? He swears that he helped to cover up the murder of his half-sister for the sake of Robert Dudley.”

Elizabeth was staring straight ahead. It must not be. Old scandal must not be revived. Amy Robsart must not be dragged from her grave to smirch the Queen’s honor.

“So,” went on Kat, “I say it is a sad thing to see a great man brought low. Why, those are tears in your sweet eyes, my darling. There! There! It matters not that your Kat sees them. Do you think you deceived her? You love him, and you think he loves Lettice better … or would if she were the Queen.”

Elizabeth laid her head suddenly on Kat’s shoulder. She murmured with a catch in her voice: “The Court is so dull without him, Kat. These … these others …”

“They are not the same, my love.”

“No one is the same, Kat. We were together in the Tower, were we not. Can I forget him?”

“Of course you cannot.”

“Heneage …”

Kat blew contempt in imitation of her royal mistress.

“A pretty man,” she said, “nothing more. The lioness amuses herself with a pretty puppy. But they’ll have the people against my lord of Leicester, dearest Majesty. The dogs are at his throat. They’ll say: ‘The lioness has left him to his fate, and he is wounded …’”

Elizabeth stood up. Her eyes were shining, for she felt it to be good when inclination and common sense could march together. “We’ll have him back at Court,” she said. “I’ll recall him. I’ll not let the dogs get him, Kat. You shall see how they go slinking away. As for Master Appleyard, he shall wish he had never left his orchards! Kat, there must be no more scandal, though. He must have done with his arrogance. I’ll not brook that.”

“Shall I look at the cards?” suggested Kat.

“Nay, not now. He shall just return to Court as a gentleman we have missed. It is merely because he has so many enemies that I shall have him back. I would not wish it to be thought that I forgot those I once loved.”

“And still love?” said Kat quietly.

So he came back to Court and his enemies retreated.

John Appleyard confessed that he had been offered a reward to speak against Robert; he admitted that his brother-in-law had been very generous to him in the past, and that it was since he had fallen into disfavor that his gifts had ceased. Had John Appleyard whispered against the Earl of Leicester when he had been accepting those gifts? He had not. So it was only when he did not receive them that he thought unkindly of his generous brother-in-law? John Appleyard was glad to slip back into obscurity.

The affair of Amy’s death was not to be revived.

Rumor started up again. Was the Queen contemplating marriage with Leicester? She had dropped Heneage now, and appeared to have no special favorite. She must marry someone soon. Did she think that because she was a Queen she could defy the passing of time?