When Parliament was opened and the Queen asked for certain monies which she needed for her exchequer, she was met by stern opposition from the House of Commons.

It was pointed out to her that she was still unmarried and that the country needed an heir. The Commons refused to discuss the money bill unless the Queen would give her word to marry without further delay. There was an alternative; if she was set against marriage so strongly that she would not undertake it, she must name her successor. There was a great deal of argument; blows were exchanged in the House. The Commons, in an ugly mood, finally approached the Lords, demanding that they join them in their stand against the Queen; and this the Lords, after some hesitation, decided to do.

Elizabeth might accept what she called insults from the Commons, but she would not from the Lords.

Robert, understanding now that it would be wise for him—as there was no hope of marrying her himself—to support the marriage with the Archduke Charles, allied himself with the Lords and Commons. He knew that, if he did not, he would stand alone, and he was no longer sure of the Queen. During his exile, he had discovered the power of his enemies. He surmised that this was really what she wished him to do, for his exile had been partly due to her wish to show foreign powers that she had no intention of marrying him. He had been greatly heartened by her summons to return to Court, and it had been wonderful to realize that when he appeared to be deserted and his enemies ready to attack, she should have come to his aid. Yet she herself had been involved in the scandal attached to Amy’s death, and her motive in recalling him might not have been entirely due to her wish to see him back at Court. He must play her game, which was, after all, out of necessity, his own. So now he ranged himself with those who were urging her either to marry, or name her successor.

She turned on them angrily. She dismissed Pembroke as a swaggering soldier. Let him get back to the battlefield, for it was all that he was fit for. As for Norfolk—he was a little too proud. It would be well for him to remember how her father had dealt with some of his family. Then she turned to Robert.

“And you, my lord of Leicester, you too have abandoned me! If all the world did that, I should not have expected it from you.”

Robert knelt before her and tried to take her hand. “Madam,” he said, “I would die for you this minute if you were to command it.”

She pushed him away with her foot. “Much good would that do me!” she cried. “And it has nothing to do with the matter.”

Her eyes went to the Marquis of Northampton, who was recently divorced and had married a new young wife.

“It is a marvelous thing, my lord, that you dare talk to me of marriage with your mincing mumping words. As if I did not know that you have just most scandalously divorced one wife and taken another.”

And with that she turned and left them all staring after her.

Uncertain how to act, the Lords and Commons began to concoct a petition. They were determined that the Queen should either marry or fix the succession; but when Elizabeth heard that they were doing this, she summoned certain leaders from both Houses to appear before her. There she harangued them with fury.

“You and your accomplices tell me you are Englishmen and bound to your country, which you think will perish unless the succession is fixed. We have heard the Bishops make their long speeches telling us what we did not know before!” Her eyes flashed scorn at them and she said with an air of great wisdom: “That when my breath fails me I shall be dead!” She laughed. “That would be a danger to the state, they think. It is easy for me to see their object. It is to take up some cause against me.

“Was I not born in this realm? And were not my parents born in this realm? Is not my Kingdom here? Whom have I oppressed? Whom have I enriched to other’s harm? What turmoil have I made in this commonwealth that I should be suspected of having no regard for the same? How have I governed since my reign? I will be tried by envy itself! I need not use too many words, for my deeds do try me.”

She glared at them and continued: “This petition you prepare is, I understand, to consist of two points: my marriage and the succession. My marriage you noble lords put first—for manners’ sake! I have said I will marry. I hope to have children, otherwise I would never marry. I suspect you will be as ready to mislike my husband as you are now ready to urge me to marriage; and then it will appear that you never meant it at all. Well, there never was so great a treason but might be covered under as fair a pretense.

“You prate of succession, my lords. None of you has been a second person in this realm as I have and tasted of the practices against my sister. Would to God she were alive! When friends fall out the truth appears; there are some gentlemen in the Commons now who, in my sister’s reign, tried to involve me in conspiracy. I would never place my successor in the position I once endured. The succession is a baffling question, full of peril to the country, though, my lords, in your simplicity you imagine the matter must needs go very trim and pleasantly. I would honor as angels any who, when they were second in this realm, did not seek to be first, and when third, second.

“As for myself, I care nothing for death, for all men are mortal, and though I be a woman, yet I have as good a courage as ever my father had. I am your anointed Queen. I will never be by violence constrained to do anything. I thank God I am endued with such qualities that if I were turned out of my realm in my petticoat, I were able to live in any place in Christendom.”

She was invincible at such times, in every respect a ruler. Those who had spoken with her were for stopping the petition, but other members of the Commons insisted that they should proceed with it.

Elizabeth recklessly forbade them to discuss the matter. Then members of the Commons talked of privilege. There were now three questions demanding discussion instead of two: the Queen’s marriage, the succession, and the privilege of the House.

Elizabeth knew when she had gone too far. Cautious Cecil was at her elbow advising her, and once again she recognized his wisdom. She lifted the veto on free discussion. She could be gracious when she knew herself at fault. Not only were they at liberty to discuss, she said, but she had decided to remit a third of the money for which she had first asked. Thus she came safely through a difficult situation; but the questions of her marriage and the succession were still open. She had given her word to marry, and she would marry the Archduke, she said, if she could be assured that he was not ill-formed, and ugly of person.

Exasperation filled the minds of those about her. Such feminine views should be suppressed. But it was well known that she could not endure ugly people near her. Only a few days earlier a lackey had been taken from her immediate service because he had lost a front tooth.

The Archduke was the best match available, she was reminded. The Earl of Sussex was sent to Austria to report on him, and sent back the news that his personal appearance left nothing to be desired, and that even his hands and feet were well-shaped.

“There is,” said Elizabeth, “the question of religion.”

The statesmen about her had now divided into two parties—one under the Duke of Norfolk, the other under Leicester. They could not agree as to the proposed marriage. Norfolk and his followers were for it. Robert, sensing her reluctance, which meant a rebirth of his own hopes, was against it. The Queen was still cool to him, but he knew her well enough to realize that she was not eager to marry the Archduke, and wished for this division between her statesmen.

It was characteristic of her that while she worried about her suitor’s personal appearance, while she became again coquettish and entirely feminine, she suddenly should put the matter so clearly before them that they were astounded by her insight and the truth of what she said.

“You talk of my marriage!” she cried. “You talk of the succession. My friends, look at France. There the succession is happily fixed, you would say. Yet that country has been torn by civil war. Look at Scotland! There is a Queen who married as you, my lords, would have wished. She has produced a fine son and that, my lords, is what you would say is a good thing. And here, in this country, there rules a barren woman. Yet, my lords, in this poor country under this poor woman, you have enjoyed peace and growing prosperity. What this country—what any country needs—is not an heir to the crown, but peace … peace from wars which torment it and suck away its riches. A week ago a man went to an altar while the service was in progress and he cast down the candlesticks and stamped upon them. There are many to support that man. In this country religious differences have not made wars. But what if your King were of the Catholic Faith, my lords? What if he wished to lead your Church back to Rome? We should have troubles such as you now see in France between Catholic and Huguenot. Nay! It is not a husband for your Queen that you need. It is not even an heir to your crown. It is peace. Think of my sister who made a foreign marriage. Think of these things, gentlemen, and see whether I am wrong to hesitate.”

As before, she had made them pause. She had shown them the statesman hidden behind the frivolous woman.

Now the coolness between them was over. She could not hide her pleasure in having him beside her. He was not to be arrogant, she wished him to understand; he was not to think her favor was exclusively his. He was never so far to forget his respect for her as to go courting another lady of her household. He was her servant, her courtier, but a very favorite one.

Who knew, in time, she might even marry him!

He was her “Eyes” once more. No one could amuse her as he could. She doubted not that if he would remember all she asked of him, he would rekindle that old affection which had seemed to die.

He was cautious now; he was wiser; he was not content merely to be the courtier. He would be the statesman also. He stood with Cecil to govern the country.

It became clear to those about him that they would be wise not to ignore him in the future. He might have his differences with the Queen; but he was still her favorite man.

When he fell ill, she was herself filled with anxiety. She visited him in his apartments on the lower floor of the palace and, examining them, declared that she feared they were damp and not good for his health. He should be moved to better quarters immediately, for she could not allow her Eyes to run such risks.

The quarters she chose for him were immediately adjoining her own.

A gasp of astonishment greeted this decision. It was an indiscretion which might have been committed in the days of her early passion for the man.

It became clear that, although there might be differences between them, those differences would be as ephemeral as lovers’ tiffs, provoked rather for the enjoyment of ultimate reconciliation than through anger or by a lessening of their love.

EIGHT

As time passed, Robert was constantly with the Queen, but their relationship had become a more sober one. He was still her favorite, but they were like a married couple who have passed through stages of passion to trust and friendship, which was, in its way, more satisfying than the earlier relationship had been.

All eyes were now watching events in Scotland, and the matrimonial adventures of Queen Mary were leading all England to think that, in remaining unmarried, Elizabeth was again showing her sagacity.

After the murder of Rizzio, the Queen’s husband—Darnley—had met a violent death in which many believed Mary to have played a part.

Elizabeth was alert. She thought of Mary in that wild and barbaric land, a dainty woman, brought up at the intellectual but immoral Court of France, a passionate and lustful woman who had a power to attract men which was apart from her crown.

Mary was weak in those characteristics which were the strength of Elizabeth. She would be impetuous where Elizabeth would always employ the greatest caution. Yet Elizabeth knew that there were some in the country—and this applied particularly to those staunch Catholics, the Northern Peers such as the Percys and the Nevilles—who would like to see Mary on the throne of England. Therefore, everything that Mary did was of the utmost importance to England.