He nodded. "She was most affectionate and she even wept a little."

"Touching!" I said with a sarcasm he pretended not to notice.

"She has done me this honor. It is one of the greatest she could bestow on me."

"I am surprised that she lets you go. But at least she has the satisfaction of knowing that I, also, will be deprived of your company."

Leicester was not listening. Vain as he was, he must already be seeing himself winning honor and glory.

He did not stay long at Leicester House. She had implied that since he was soon to leave her, he was to spend as much time as possible with her before he left. With her! I thought bitterly. She was telling me that although I was his wife, she was the important woman in his life. She commanded and he obeyed and every hour he spent with her was an hour in which I could not share.

A few days later I heard that he was not to go to the Netherlands after all. The Queen was suffering from an indisposition and she felt that she had not long to live. She could not therefore allow the Earl of Leicester to leave her. They had been together too long for them to part with the thought that they might never meet again. So he must stay behind and she would consider the matter of whom to send to command the army in the Netherlands.

I was seething with rage. I was certain that all her actions were directed against me in order to humiliate me more than she had already. She said my husband must go to the Netherlands, so he prepared to go. She said he must remain and so he remained. He must be there at her command. She was so ill that she wanted him with her. If I had been ill he would have had to go. She wanted me to know that I was of little importance in his life. He would abandon me if she commanded it. How I hated her! My only consolation was that her hatred of me was equal to mine of her. And I knew that in her heart she knew that I would be the chosen one ... were it not for her crown.

It was while I was in this mood that I became an unfaithful wife. I committed the act quite deliberately. I was tired of brief visits—stolen from the Queen—as though she were his wife and I his mistress. I had braved her wrath to marry him, knowing that wrath could be relentless; and, having done that, I was not prepared to be treated in this way.

Leicester was growing old and, as I had long noticed, there were some handsome young men in his service. The Queen liked handsome young men about her, to pander to her whims, to flatter her, to do her service—well, I also liked them. I had been thinking more and more of this since I saw so little of my husband. I was still young enough to enjoy those pleasures I could share with the opposite sex. Looking back, I think perhaps I hoped Leicester would find out and then he would know that others valued me enough to risk his revenge.

At one time it had seemed that Leicester alone could please me. I wanted to prove to myself that that was no longer the case.

There was a young man in my husband's retinue—a certain Christopher Blount, a son of Lord Mountjoy—whom Leicester had made his Master of Horse. He was tall, of excellent figure and extremely handsome, fair-haired, blue-eyed with an appealing look of innocence which pleased me. I had noticed him often and I knew that he was aware of me. I would always give him Good Morrow when I passed, and he would always stand at attention and regard me with something like awe, which I found gratifying.

I made a point of speaking to him whenever I saw him, and I soon realized that he put himself in the way of being spoken to.

After I had seen him I would go to my room and think about him. I would look in the mirror and study myself critically. It seemed incredible that in five years I should be fifty. I shuddered at the thought. I should not be chary of snatching at the good things of life, for before long I should be too old to enjoy them. Previously I had always congratulated myself that the Queen was eight years older than I and Robert slightly more. But now I was seeing myself in relation to Christopher Blount. He must be twenty years my junior. Well, not only queens could play at being young. I wanted to prove to myself that I still had the power to attract. Perhaps I wanted also to be assured that Leicester was not as important to me as he had once been. If he must always be at hand to amuse the Queen, I could find amusement elsewhere. I felt in some way that I was not only scoring over Leicester but, just as important to me, over the Queen as well.

A few days later I saw Christopher in the stables and dropped a kerchief. An old trick but ever a useful one. It gave him an opportunity, and I wondered whether he would have the courage to take it. If he did, he deserved a reward, for he would know something of Leicester, and I doubted not he had read the Commonwealth. Then he would know it could be dangerous to dally with Leicester's wife.

I knew he would come.

He was at the door of my chamber holding my kerchief in his hand. I went to him, smiling, and, taking his hand, drew him into the chamber, shutting the door on us.

It was exciting, for him no less than for me. It was that element of danger which had so appealed to me in my first days with Robert. It was exhilarating to be with a young man, to know that my body was still beautiful and that my age seemed to be an additional attraction because I was so much in command of the situation and my experience filled him with wonder and respect.

Afterwards I quickly sent him away saying that it must never happen again. I knew it would, of course, but that made it more precious and exciting. He looked very serious and tragic, but I knew he would have braved the wrath of Leicester again and again rather than to have missed it.

When he had gone I laughed at myself and thought of Leicester's dancing attendance on the Queen.

"Two can play at that game, my noble Earl," I said.

The Queen had changed her mind once more. She had recovered and no one but Leicester, she had again decided, was worthy to lead the armies in the Netherlands.

He was in a state of great excitement when he came to Leicester House. He saw a wonderful future opening out before him, he told me. The crown of the Netherlands had been offered to the Queen; she would not accept it, but he saw no reason why he should not.

"How would you like to be a queen, Lettice?" he asked; and I replied that I should not refuse a crown if it were offered to me.

"Let us hope she will not stop your leaving again," I said.

"She will not," he replied. "She is eager for victory there. We need it. I promise you this: I will drive the Spaniards out of the Netherlands." He looked at me suddenly and saw the coldness in my eyes, for I was thinking how absorbed he was in his coming glory and how little concerned to leave me. But then she had seen that we had so little time together that his separation made little difference to the life we had been living for so long. He took my hands and kissed them. "Lettice," he went on, "I'm going to make it up to you. Don't think I don't understand what it has been like. I couldn't help it. It has been against my will. Understand please, my dearest."

"I understand well enough," I replied. "You had to neglect me because she wished it."

"It's true. I would to God ..."

He seized me and held me to him, but I sensed that his excitement stemmed not from his passion for me but from the contemplation of the glory that would come from the Netherlands.

Philip Sidney was going with him and he would find a place for Essex. "That will please our young Earl. You see how I care for my family."

It was going to be a triumphant march into the Netherlands. He was already planning that. Now he would see his Master of Horse, as he had much to discuss with him.

I was amused, wondering what Christopher Blount's reactions would be. There was something very innocent about Christopher, and since what I secretly referred to as "the incident" had occurred I had seen expression of many emotions on his face. There were guilt, excitement, hope, desire, shame and fear all mingling. He would be seeing himself as a villain for having seduced his master's wife. I wanted to tell him that it was I who had seduced him. He was very charming, and although I had been tempted to repeat the experience, I had not done so. I did not want to spoil it for Christopher by making it an entirely physical relationship.

However, I was interested to see how he behaved with Leicester, and whether he would betray anything. I was sure that he would make a tremendous effort not to. And since he was to leave for the Netherlands with Leicester, I told myself, there could be no immediate repetition of the incident. But I was wrong.

The Queen was determined that Leicester should not spend his last night in England with me. I thought at least he would do that and was expecting him to come to Leicester House. He did not come. Instead, a messenger arrived with the news that the Queen insisted he remain at Court as she had much to discuss with him. I knew, of course, that she was showing me that, although I was his wife, it was she who had first call on his services. I was angry and frustrated. I hated his going. I suppose in my heart I still loved him, still wanted him. I knew then that there could never be anyone in my life to take his place. I was sick with frustrated jealousy when I thought of those two together. She would doubtless dance into the early hours of the morning, and he would be there offering her those sickening compliments, telling her how wretched he was to leave her. And she would listen, her head on one side, her hawk's eyes soft ... believing her Sweet Robin, her Eyes, the only man she could ever love.

It had been a cold December day but the weather could not be more wretched than my mood. I decided I was a fool. To hell with Elizabeth, I said to myself. To hell with Leicester. I ordered my servants to make a good fire in my bedroom and when it was warm and cozy I sent for Christopher.

He was so young, so naive, so inexperienced. I knew he adored me and his adoration was salve to my wounded vanity. I could not bear that his opinion of me should change so I told him I had sent for him to assure him that he must feel no guilt for what had happened. It had come upon us spontaneously before we had had time to realize what we were doing. It must never happen again of course, and we must forget it had.

He said what I expected him to. He would do all I asked of him except forget. That was something he could never do. It had been the most wonderful experience of his life, and he would remember it always.

The young are so charming, I thought. I understood why the Queen was so fond of them. Their innocence refreshes us, renews our faith in life. Christopher's rapture brought him near to idolatry, and this did much to restore my belief in my power to attract, which, because of Leicester's eagerness to leave me for the glory of the Netherlands, I had begun to doubt.

I took my leave of Christopher—or pretended to, as I fully intended that he should stay the night. I placed my hands on his shoulders and kissed him on the lips. Of course that was the tinder to the flame.

He was charmingly full of apologies, believing that he was to blame, which was so appealing.

I sent him off before the dawn and he went saying that if he died in battle in the Netherlands, would I honor him by remembering that he could never have loved anyone but me if he had lived to be a hundred?

Dear Christopher! Death seemed glorious at that moment, I was sure. He saw himself dying for the Protestant faith with my name on his lips.

It was very romantic and charming, and I had enjoyed the episode. I wondered why I had denied myself so long.

They left the next day, Leicester taking his farewell of the Queen and placing himself at the head of the party which also contained my lover and my son.

I heard later that they were lavishly entertained at Colchester, and the following day went to Harwich, where a fleet of fifty sail was waiting to take them across to Flushing.

Robert wrote to me in great exultation, telling me of the tumultuous welcome he had received everywhere, for the people regarded him as their savior. At Rotterdam, where it was dark when the fleet arrived, Dutchmen lined the bank, every fourth man holding aloft a fiery cresset. The crowds cheered him and he was taken through the market place to his lodging, where a life-size statue of Erasmus had been erected. From Rotterdam he had gone to Delft, and there he lodged in the very house where the Prince of Orange had been murdered.