'Dishonourable and Naughty Reports'

Gossip about Dudley's alleged responsibility for the death of his wife spread rapidly, and in pulpits all over the country, preachers 'harped on it in a manner prejudicial to the honour and service of the Queen'.

Soon, it was the talk of Europe. From Paris on 10 October, Sir Nicholas Throckmorton wrote to Cecil that he had learned of the 'strange death' of Amy Dudley. In fact, the news was already being loudly bruited about the French court, with the most unfavourable conclusions being drawn, and in a private letter to the Marquess of Northampton, Throckmorton confided, I wish I were either dead or hence, that I might not hear the dishonourable and naughty reports that are made of the Queen, and the great joy among the French princes for the success they take it they are like to have in England - not letting to speak of the Queen and some others, that which every hair on my head stareth and my ears glow to hear. One laugheth at us, another threateneth, another revileth the Queen. Some let not to say, 'What religion is this, that a subject shall kill his wife, and the prince not only bear withal but marry with him?' If these slandrous bruits [rumours] be not slaked, or if they prove true, our reputation is gone forever, war follows, and utter subversion of the Queen and country.

Sir Nicholas said that his heart bled for his mistress, and he prayed that, for the sake of England's security and prestige, and the Queen's own reputation, she would not 'so foully forget herself as to marry Dudley -a prayer echoed by English ambassadors at other courts.

Thomas Randolph wrote from Edinburgh that what he had heard 'so passioneth my heart that no grief I ever felt was like unto it'. By the end 111.

of October, weary of the malicious tongues of the French courtiers, Throckmorton thought fit to inform Cecil that it was generally accepted in France that Amy Dudley had been murdered by her husband; Mary Stuart herself had cattily commented, 'So the Queen of England is to marry her horse-keeper, who has killed his wife to make room for her!' Knowing that most people believed Elizabeth to have been an accomplice to murder, Throckmorton stressed 'how much it imports the Queen's honour to have the reports of Amy's death ceased', and warned: 'We begin already to be in derision and hatred for the bruit only, and nothing taken here more assured than our destruction; so, if it take place, God and religion, which be the fundaments, shall be out of of estimation, the Queen our Sovereign discredited, condemned and neglected, our country ruined, undone and made prey.' estimation, the Queen our Sovereign discredited, condemned and neglected, our country ruined, undone and made prey.'

Similar damning conclusions were drawn elsewhere in Europe. Some people believed that Dudley had already married the Queen in secret. The Protestant princes of Germany were especially horrified, since they had looked to England as an ally and now saw Elizabeth apparently hellbent upon self-destruction.

De Quadra informed Throckmorton, 'The Queen your mistress doth show that she hath honour but for a few in her realm, for no man will advise her to leave her folly.' No one had the courage to tell her that she should renounce Dudley. Although Elizabeth was aware of what was being said about them both, she felt nothing but indignation, which was apparent when Throckmorton sent his secretary, Robert Jones, to ask for advice from the Council as to how to counteract the rumours in France, and hopefully dissuade the Queen from marrying Dudley.

Jones thought Her Majesty looked 'not so heavy and well as she did by a great deal. Surely the matter of my Lord Robert doth much perplex her.' She told Jones that his visit was unnecessary, but he recklessly proceeded to try and convince her of the folly of marrying Dudley, only to have her round on him in a temper and declare, 'I have heard of this before!' When he tried to remind her how Dudley had been involved in Northumberland's conspiracy to set Lady Jane Grey on the throne seven years earlier, Elizabeth just laughed at him. In desperation, he revealed to her what was being said about her and Dudley in France, to which she responded spiritedly, 'The matter has been tried and found to be contrary to that which is reported.' Dudley had been at court when his wife died, and none of his people were present at the 'attempt at his wife's house; and it has fallen out as should neither touch my lord's honesty nor my honour'.

Elizabeth's reference to 'the attempt' has been seen as evidence that she did not accept the verdict of accidental death, or, worse, as I slip of the tongue that revealed guilty knowledge of Amy's murder. It could 112.

also have been an innocent, unthinking response to Jones's reports of French rumours, which assumed that an attempt on Amy's life had been made. It was, moreover, hardly accurate for the Queen to refer to 'his wife's house', but she was in a heated mood at the time and paying little attention to niceties of detail.

The rumours would not be stilled. It was said that the Queen was secretly betrothed to Dudley or that she was already expecting his child. Time proved these rumours false, but the story of Amy Dudley's death was continually embroidered and embellished, eventually passing into legend. Dudley's enemies made several attempts during the late sixteenth century to revive the scandal, with its details growing ever more lurid each time. Even in the reign of Elizabeth's successor a play performed in London would make reference to it, with the claim that 'the surest way to chain a woman's tongue is to break her neck; a politician did it'. Centuries later, the story would reach its apotheosis in Sir Walter Scott's highly fanciful novel, Kenilworth, Kenilworth, which places Amy's death during Elizabeth's visit to Kenilworth Castle in 1575 and surrounds it with the most devious intrigues. Even today, tales are told of a clergyman being called to exorcise a pool at Cumnor which is allegedly haunted by the ghost of poor Amy Dudley. which places Amy's death during Elizabeth's visit to Kenilworth Castle in 1575 and surrounds it with the most devious intrigues. Even today, tales are told of a clergyman being called to exorcise a pool at Cumnor which is allegedly haunted by the ghost of poor Amy Dudley.

In the middle of October, the court came out of mourning and speculation mounted as to whether Elizabeth would indeed marry Lord Robert. 'With these people, it is always wisest to think the worst,' de Quadra opined to the Duchess of Parma. Only the Earl of Sussex advocated the marriage; although he loathed and resented Dudley, he was desperately concerned about the succession, and felt that any husband was better than no husband for Elizabeth. However, no one else supported this view.

Rumour aside, if the Queen did decide to make Dudley her consort, she would be taking herself out of the European marriage market and abandoning her chance of making a match that would bring political and economic advantages to England; it might not, even now, be too late to revive plans for an alliance with either the Archduke Charles or the Earl of Arran, provided she dissociated herself from Dudley. More importantly, from her point of view, her marriage was the most advantageous asset she had, the means whereby she could keep other princes' goodwill and help maintain the balance of power in Europe.

There was also the question of Dudley's suitability as a husband; he had been vastly unpopular even before his wife's death, and were the Queen to marry a subject - which in itself could cause jealousy and faction fights amongst her courtiers, and even lead to civil war, given the strength of public feeling against the favourite - she would, in the eyes 113.

of the world, be degrading her royal rank.

Her cousin, the Duchess of Suffolk, had, after the execution of her husband in 1554, married her steward, Adrian Stokes, and suffered a humiliating loss of status as a result. Elizabeth was supremely conscious of her own royalty, and valued it too highly to debase it. Much as she loved Dudley, she was aware that his rank precluded him qualifying as a suitable consort.

Above all, there remained the risks she would incur by marrying him, and her oft-declared aversion to the married state. Single, she remained in control and kept the upper hand in their relationship; once married, their roles would be reversed, even though she was the Queen, and Elizabeth regarded any threat to her independence with horror. Moreover, if she did not marry Dudley, then she would prove the rumours false and dissociate herself from the scandal.

On a personal level, Elizabeth's feelings for Dudley had emerged unscathed from the scandal. When he returned to court, it was as if nothing had changed between them, and, far from being defeated by the rumours and gossip, Lord Robert was as self-confident and proud as before. The inquest had officially cleared his name, and now that he was a free man, he saw nothing improper in his courtship of the Queen. His behaviour gave rise to persistent reports that they would marry, which flourished side by side with speculation that a foreign marriage for Her Majesty was about to be announced. Elizabeth loved being at the centre of such intrigues, and was as usual non-committal and evasive on both issues.

Cecil, growing daily more confident, believed that there was little cause for concern. He was aware how much Elizabeth had struggled with her emotions during the past weeks, but he knew that her political judgement was as acute as ever, and that, although she would not renounce Dudley's company, it was now unlikely that she would marry him. Knowing that any implied criticism of Dudley would be unwelcome, Cecil had wisely refrained from burdening her with too much advice, but gave her time in which to reflect upon the available choices.

He also wrote warning Throckmorton to cease putting pressure upon her, as he had seen that attempts to convince her of Lord Robert's unsuitability as a consort only made her angry and more determined to favour and protect him. Katherine Ashley's husband had recently made derogatory remarks about Dudley, and Elizabeth, in a fit of temper, had banished him from court, whereupon Mrs Ashley had gone weeping to Dudley and persuaded him to sue for her husband's reinstatement.

Elizabeth was indeed torn, but she was also sensible of the duties and obligations of sovereignty, and when it came to reaching a decision, she compelled her head to rule her heart. It might not have been such a 114.

difficult decision: Dudley may have seemed to her infinitely more desirable and less of a threat as a married man than as a free one, and whilst Throckmorton and others agonised over the future, she had already made up her mind.

As early as 15 October, Cecil confided to de Quadra that the Queen had told him that she would not marry Dudley. In November, it was announced that she intended to raise him to the peerage; in fact, Dudley had badgered her to do so until she reluctantly gave in. The relevant Letters Patent were drawn up, but when it came to the ceremony of investiture, according to Robert Jones, the Queen astonished everyone, and shocked Dudley, by taking a knife and 'cutting [the papers] asunder', stating that she would not have another Dudley in the House of Lords since his family had been traitors for three generations. This was unlikely to have been an impulsive gesture, but one calculated to proclaim to the world - and to Dudley - that Elizabeth, aware of public opinion, meant to remain in control of her destiny and had made up her mind not to marry him.

Dudley glowered and begged her not to abuse him thus in front of her courtiers. She merely patted his cheek, saying teasingly, 'No, no, the bear and ragged staff are not so soon overthrown' - a reference to the heraldic crest borne by his father and brother as earls of Warwick. Talk of her action spread rapidly, and her courtiers were gleeful and exultant to see Dudley so discomfited. Some of his friends and supporters tried to persuade the Queen to abandon her scruples and marry him, but she made a 'pup with her lips' and declared that she would not marry a subject. When they objected that she could make her husband a king, she answered, 'No, that I will in no wise agree to.' She did intimate that she would create Dudley Earl of Leicester on Twelfth Night, but later changed her mind and decided it would be unwise for the time being.

Never again, when it came to the game of courtship, would Elizabeth allow her private feelings to undermine her good sense. She had realised, in good time, that if she abrogated her moral authority as queen, she would lose all respect and credibility, and even the throne itself. Thus the crisis passed, and before November was out, Robert Jones noticed that the gossip was dying a natural death. Dudley remained at the Queen's side, consort in all but name, but Elizabeth was firmly in control now. She had his constant presence, his loyalty and the stimulation of his company. It is tempting to conclude that she had perhaps never been serious about wanting more than that.

Meanwhile, another royal scandal was brewing. Although Elizabeth had refused to acknowledge her as such, according to Henry VIII's Act of 115.

Succession, Lady Katherine Grey was next in line to the throne.

Katherine, the beauty of the Grey sisters, was now twenty. The Queen had never liked her, and had downgraded her and her sister Mary from their positions as ladies of the Bedchamber, to which they had been appointed by Queen Mary, to ladies of the Privy Chamber; Katherine's loud protests had availed her nothing. She was an ambitious young woman, and had enlisted the support of successive Spanish ambassadors, who saw in her a means to restore the Catholic faith to England. Although Katherine had been brought up as a Protestant, she had made a point of embracing the Catholic faith under Queen Mary, and after Elizabeth's accession, the Count de Feria had conceived a plan to marry her to King Philip's son, Don Carlos, stage a coup, and set her on the English throne, thereby uniting England and Spain under Spanish rule. It is not hard to see why Elizabeth regarded her kinswoman as a menace.

Before he left England, de Feria had enjoined Katherine not to marry, but to remain single until he could arrange a grand dynastic marriage for her. However, early in 1559, whilst staying with her mother at Hanworth in Middlesex as a guest of the Duchess of Somerset, widow of Edward VI's Lord Protector, Katherine had met and fallen in love with the Duchess's eldest son, Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford. The Duchess of Suffolk, seeing this, suggested that they marry; already she was scheming against the time when her family's fortunes might be revived through another daughter's claim to the throne, and she realised that young Hertford would prove popular with the people, who revered his father's memory. Katherine, in the first flush of love, was only too happy to go along with her mother's plans.

There was one seemingly insurmountable barrier to the marriage: given her attitude towards those of her relatives who were near in blood to the throne, the Queen would hardly be likely to give her permission, and under an Act passed in 1536 by Henry VIII it was treason for persons of royal blood to marry without the consent of the sovereign. Lady Suffolk nevertheless resolved to petition the Queen, but she fell ill and died in November 1559, before being able to do so. Katherine was too frightened of the Queen to dare approach her on the matter; word of Spanish ambitions on her behalf had reached Elizabeth's ears, and Katherine was obliged to tread very warily.

Cecil, however, had found out about her affair with Hertford, and realised that their marriage would put paid to any Spanish intrigues. Thus he was prepared to give them his support.

Then came more damning, and unfounded, rumours that Katherine was going to marry the Earl of Arran with the intention of uniting the thrones of England and Scotland. At this point, Elizabeth realised that she dare not alienate her young cousin for fear of driving her into the 116.

arms of her enemies, so she restored her to her former position as Lady of the Bedchamber and went out of her way to be amiable to her - 'to keep her quiet', as de Quadra drily put it. 'She even talks about adopting her,' he added, noting that Katherine was now referred to as Her Majesty's 'daughter'. The Bishop had also heard gossip that credited Lady Katherine with yet another potentially dangerous suitor, the Earl of Huntingdon.

Katherine was not interested in any of these great matches; she was secretly meeting Hertford in private, escaping from under the Queen's nose to do so. His sister, Lady Jane Seymour, one of Elizabeth's maids of honour, was thrilled at the prospect of her brother marrying the heiress to the throne, and acted as go-between, accompanying Katherine on her nightly visits to her lover's house in Cannon Row, Westminster. And when the Earl came to Whitehall Palace, it was Lady Jane who contrived that they were alone together, giving up her own tiny bedchamber that led off the Maidens' Chamber. It was here that Hertford asked Katherine to marry him in secret. 'I like both you and your offer,' she answered. 'I am content to marry with you.'

One morning in late November or early December 1560, while the Queen was away hunting at Eltham in Kent, the lovers seized their opportunity. Having excused herself from accompanying the royal party 3 by pleading toothache, Lady Katherine walked with Lady Jane along the banks of the Thames to Cannon Row, while Hertford dismissed all his servants for the day. Jane had arranged for a priest to come to the house and perform the ceremony, but he failed to turn up. Ever resourceful, she found another, said to have been a Catholic, and with only herself as witness, a ceremony of marriage took place. When the priest departed, Jane, 'perceiving them ready to go to bed', left the newlyweds alone for two hours before returning to walk back with Lady Katherine to Whitehall. On arrival, they joined the other courtiers for dinner, no one being any the wiser as to where they had been.

That November, Francis II, King of France developed a virulent ear infection. After weeks of agony he died on 6 December, and was succeeded by his ten-year-old brother, Charles IX. Real power, however, now lay in the hands of the new regent, the Queen Mother, Catherine de' Medici, and the Guises found themselves thrust into the background.

Mary Stuart was left a widow at only eighteen years old, and the question of her future had to be settled. She was devastated by her young husband's death, but there was no question but that she should remarry after a suitable period of mourning. In the meantime she had a country to rule, and it was not long before the Queen Mother, jealous of Mary's 117.

status and influence, was urging her to return to Scotland. Mary's Guise relations suggested several possible husbands, but Catherine vetoed them all, knowing that any one of these marriages would keep Mary in France.

In England, Elizabeth's cousin, Margaret Douglas, Countess of Lennox, heard the news of King Francis's death, and immediately conceived the idea of putting forward her son, Henry Stewart, Lord Darnley, as a likely consort for the Scottish Queen. Without telling Elizabeth, she sent Darnley to France to press his suit, but it was too soon for Mary, who was in no fit state to consider any future husband. Moreover, the Queen found out about Lady Lennox's intrigues, and when Darnley returned home she had them both placed under house arrest in London.

Elizabeth was naturally concerned about the change of government in France. Francis and Mary had repeatedly refused to ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh, and had continued to use the royal arms of England; relations between England and France had therefore become rather strained, but it soon became apparent that the new regime had neither the interest nor the resources to cause trouble for Elizabeth.

That December, death also claimed Elizabeth's Comptroller, the ageing Sir Thomas Parry. He had also held the lucrative office of Master of the Court of Wards, which Dudley coveted, but in January 1561, Elizabeth, with wise caution, bestowed it upon William Cecil. By March, the Earl of Bedford was able to comment, 'The great matters whereof the world was wont to talk are now asleep, having had some fits, both hot and cold.'

Dudley had certainly been feeling out in the cold. Cecil told Throckmorton, 'Whatever reports or opinion be, I know surely that my Lord Robert hath more fear than hope, and so doth the Queen give him cause.' But Dudley had not given up all hope of marrying Elizabeth, and he actively set about increasing his following. He knew that the Queen had been most concerned about reaction in Spain to the recent scandal, yet he was also aware that Philip II had envisaged that she might marry a subject and that Philip would wish to remain on good terms with that subject in order to advance the Catholic cause in England. Dudley therefore decided to seek Philip's support for his marriage to the Queen. Elizabeth may well have agreed to this plan, or even suggested it, for different motives: she knew that, if the Catholic powers could be led to believe that she privately wished to restore the old faith in England, they would not agitate for her excommunication.

In January, Dudley sent his brother-in-law, Sir Henry Sidney, to convey to de Quadra his assurances that, if he married the Queen, the Catholic faith would be restored in England, and Dudley 'would 118.

thereafter serve and obey [King Philip] like one of his own vassals'. Sidney revealed to de Quadra that Elizabeth had tired of 'the tyranny of Cecil' and was anxious to 'put religion right'; he stressed 'how much inclined the Queen was to the marriage' and suggested that it would be helpful if King Philip could do his best to persuade her to reconsider her decision not to marry Dudley. This was a strange stance for a man who had already set himself up as the champion of the Protestant faith to adopt, but with Dudley ambition ruled all: he had not paused to consider the consequences to himself if his intrigues became public.

Although de Quadra had consistently taken the view that the scandal surrounding Dudley had made him a less than suitable candidate for the Queen's hand, he was nevertheless aware that, if they married, bitter faction fights would arise in the court amongst the ruling Protestant elite, which would ensure that the oppression of Catholics would no longer be a priority. However, he responded to Sidney's startling revelations with scepticism.

'What I have heard so far of this matter has been of such a character that I have hardly ventured to write two lines to His Majesty about it, nor have the Queen or Lord Robert said a word to me that I could write,' he said stiffly. 'I have no means of guessing the Queen's thoughts, and although my master is always anxious to be helpful, his advice has been consistently disregarded in the past.'

Sidney was obliged to concede this point, but protested that if de Quadra 'was satisfied about the death of Lord Robert's wife', he saw no reason why the Bishop should not report Dudley's assurances to King Philip, since, although the Queen and Dudley had indulged in 'a love affair, the object of it was marriage'. De Quadra pointed out that, although Dudley had been cleared of any involvement in his wife's death, many people did not believe he was innocent. Sidney agreed that this was the chief obstacle to the marriage, but stressed that he was sure Amy Dudley's death had been accidental - 'He had enquired with great care, and knew that public opinion held to the contrary.'

Sir Henry went on to acknowledge that not only the marriage of the Queen and Dudley, but also the relaxation of sanctions against the English Catholics would prove impossible without Philip's support. Once that was assured, 'things would be very different, and the Queen and Dudley would do all they could to restore religion without delay'.

Despite de Quadra's summing up of Sidney as an honest man, he could not but remember how Lady Sidney had hoodwinked him over the matter of the Archduke Charles, with Elizabeth's connivance, and he suspected that there was a hidden agenda behind this intrigue also. However, on 13 February, Sidney brought Dudley himself to a private interview with de Quadra, in which the favourite confirmed all that 119.

Sidney had said, after which the ambassador was sufficiently convinced that a Dudley marriage would be in Catholic interests to say so to King Philip in his next dispatch.

Philip responded favourably to the plan, but he did not trust Elizabeth and insisted that de Quadra 'get it in writing with her signature' before matters were carried any further. The ambassador duly saw the Queen, but she was evasive when he said he was glad to hear that she was contemplating marrying Dudley.

'After much circumlocution, she said she wished to confess to me and tell me her secret in confession, which was that she was no angel, and did not deny that she had some affection for Lord Robert, for the many good qualities he possessed, but she certainly had never decided to marry him or anyone else, although she daily saw more clearly the necessity for her marriage, and to satisfy the English humour it was desirable that she should marry an Englishman.'

'What would King Philip think', she asked, with a twinkle in her eye, 'if I married one of my servitors?'

'My master would be pleased to hear of your marriage, whoever Your Majesty chooses, as it is important for the welfare of your kingdom,' de Quadra assured her. 'His Majesty, I feel sure, would be happy to hear of Lord Robert's good fortune. I have always understood that King Philip has a great affection for him, and generally holds him in high esteem.' De Quadra noted that Elizabeth 'seemed as pleased at this as her position allowed her to be'.

Cecil, however, was not pleased to find out what was going on. In March, he asked de Quadra to obtain from King Philip a letter supporting the Dudley marriage. The Queen, he explained, did not wish to do anything without the goodwill of her subjects, and would use the letter as an excuse to summon Parliament and lay the proposal before them. Cecil knew it was a foregone conclusion that Parliament would reject any candidate of Philip's out of hand, and de Quadra knew it too, and began to suspect that the whole episode had been a plot to discredit the Catholics. In the middle of April, his suspicions were apparently confirmed when he was accused of involvement in a Catholic conspiracy against the Queen; several notable recusants were arrested, and it was bruited abroad that King Philip had undertaken to support a Dudley marriage if Elizabeth would acknowledge the supremacy of the Pope over the English Church. Not surprisingly, this provoked a furore, but there was in fact precious little evidence that such a conspiracy had ever existed. In all likelihood, it had been the invention of Cecil, out to discredit Dudley and prevent him from marrying the Queen.

Cecil was so successful at stirring up anti-Catholic feeling at court during the following weeks that Dudley soon perceived that if his 120.

dealings with de Quadra became known, he might well face ruin. He realised now that his intrigue had been detected and that there could be no question of official Spanish backing for the marriage.

Although Elizabeth had assured de Quadra that she did not believe he had been involved in the alleged conspiracy, Cecil continued to make life difficult for the Bishop. His secretary was suborned into spying on him, his letters were intercepted and read, his visitors followed and watched, and he was accused of sending defamatory dispatches to Spain.

Dejected, Dudley asked his friends what he should do, and a few even advised him to go and live abroad. His spirits were vastly uplifted, however, when the Queen assigned to him a sumptuous apartment at Greenwich, next to her own, which prompted him - and, unfortunately, others - to speculate that she had done so in order to ensure that they could enjoy intimacy in private. To Dudley, it seemed in the summer of 1561 that he might yet achieve his ambition of being consort, even without Spanish help. By May he had abandoned his flirtation with the Catholics and henceforth remained a staunch advocate of Protestantism, proudly boasting that 'There is no man I know in this realm that hath showed a better mind to the furthering of true religion than I have done.'

There was more to this than met the eye, for by playing the religious zealot and patriot, Dudley hoped to proclaim himself an ideal consort for the Queen, whilst at the same time demonstrating that his influence could be every bit as beneficial as Cecil's. And to a degree he was successful: although Amy Dudley's death had not been forgotten, from around this time onwards, people ceased to regard him as a mere favourite, and statesmen like Cecil realised that it was in their interests to remain on good terms with him. However, Cecil never ceased to fear that Elizabeth might change her mind and marry Dudley, and from time to time was driven to employing subtle means to sabotage the latter's chances.

For her part, Elizabeth kept Dudley - and everyone else - guessing. One evening in June, de Quadra was a guest on the royal barge when the Queen attended a splendid water pageant on the Thames. 'She, Robert and I being alone on the galley, they began joking, which she likes to do much better than talking about business. They went so far with their jokes that Lord Robert told her that, if she liked, I could be the minister to perform the act of marriage, and she, nothing loath to hear it, said she was not sure whether I knew enough English.' The dignified Bishop was not amused by this, and after he had 'let them jest for a while' he stiffly pointed out that the Queen should extricate herself from the tyranny of William Cecil and her other advisers, and then restore the true religion. If she could accomplish this, she could marry 121.

Dudley as soon as they pleased, because with King Philip's support, no one would dare oppose their union. Elizabeth, who could not afford to lose Philip's goodwill, affected to be interested in his suggestions.

That summer, most observers thought that the Queen's love for Dudley was 'as great as ever'. Although there were reports that Erik of Sweden was coming in person to renew his courtship, they believed that there was only one serious contender for Elizabeth's hand, although it was characteristic of Elizabeth to provoke Dudley by commenting, when shown a new portrait of Erik, that if the King was as handsome as his portrait, no one could resist him.

Secure in his love, she could deliver a cruel put-down. When, a few years later, Charles IX's ambassador informed her and Dudley that his master thought that they should marry and wished to meet Dudley, Elizabeth retorted, 'It would scarcely be honourable to send a groom to see so great a king.' Then she laughed, and said, 'I cannot do without my Lord Robert, for he is like my little dog, and whenever he comes into a room, everyone at once assumes that I myself am near.'

If Dudley grew tired of this treatment, he did not show it, nor for many years did he contemplate any alternative marriage. Elizabeth kept him bound to her by lavish patronage - she granted him a pension of #1000 per annum in October 1561 - lucrative offices, privileges, informal but real political influence, manifest signs of favour - and hope.

In March 1561, just after Lord Hertford had left on a diplomatic mission to France, Lady Katherine Grey had discovered herself to be pregnant. On 23 March, her friend and accomplice Lady Jane Seymour died, aged just twenty, probably of tuberculosis; the Queen ordered that she be buried in Westminster Abbey with great ceremony, but her passing left Katherine alone to face the consequences of her rash marriage.

To her husband, she wrote desperately, 'I am quick with child. I pray you therefore to return and declare how the matter standeth between us.' In the meantime, she had to put on a brave face and continue with her duties at court, praying that her condition would not show.

By July, however, this was a vain hope. That month, the Queen went on a progress through East Anglia, and Katherine was one of those chosen to attend her. By the time they reached Ipswich, she was in great distress at the suspicious glances of court matrons, and took the extraordinary liberty of seeking out Dudley in his bedchamber in the middle of the night, knowing that he was the one person who might be able to mitigate the Queen's wrath. Kneeling by his bed and weeping, she confessed all and begged him to help her. Dudley, realising that what she was telling him could have disastrous consequences for the succession, told her to leave. Distraught, she went to the room of an old family 122.

friend, Elizabeth Cavendish, Lady Saintlow - who had served Elizabeth as a lady in waiting since Mary's reign and became better known in later years as the formidable Bess of Hardwick - but met only with an angry tirade against her utter foolishness, and a refusal to incur the Queen's displeasure by becoming involved.

The next morning, Dudley informed the Queen of her cousin's crime, and thereafter Katherine was in deep disgrace. Elizabeth took the view that, apart from having placed the succession in jeopardy, her cousin's weakness in having succumbed to an affair of the heart made her an unsuitable heir to the throne. She also saw the affair as evidence of a conspiracy against the Crown, although there was never any proof of that. Cecil concluded that Katherine's illicit pregnancy was a sign that God was displeased at the prospect of a Grey claimant succeeding to the throne.

When the court returned to Whitehall in August, Katherine was imprisoned in the Tower and Lord Hertford was summoned home, admitted paternity of the child, and joined his wife there, being housed in a separate cell. They were not allowed to meet. On 24 September, Katherine gave birth to a son, Edward Seymour. News of the birth of a male claimant to the throne only made the Queen more incensed against the couple, for she feared that Katherine's ability to produce a son might make her a more attractive prospect as queen in the eyes of the people. In order to make it impossible for the infant to be set up as a rival claimant, Elizabeth ordered that a commission, headed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, should investigate the validity of the marriage.

The commissioners examined the prisoners separately and rigorously, demanding details of their 'infamous conversation' and evidence to substantiate their 'pretended marriage', but of course there was none. The only witness was dead and the priest could not be traced. Hertford had referred to Katherine as his wife in a deed of jointure, but she had lost it. In 1562, after months of investigations, the commission pronounced the union null and void and its issue illegitimate, and, for their 'undue and unlawful carnal copulation', the offending couple were sentenced to imprisonment in the Tower at the Queen's pleasure. Fortunately, Elizabeth had not demanded the full penalty for treason which the law provided for.

However, Katherine Grey's disgrace signalled the end of any hopes that she might have had of being designated Elizabeth's successor, and it strengthened the Queen's resolve never to name her heir: that September she told the new Scots ambassador, William Maitland of Lethington, that she thought it was unreasonable of her subjects 'to require me in my own life to set my winding sheet before my eye'.

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Nevertheless, there was a certain amount of sympathy for Katherine; her marriage was regarded as valid, and it was felt that she and Lord Hertford had been too 'sharply handled'. Their supporters believed that, if the Queen had done her duty by marrying and producing an heir of her own, the proceedings against these young people would have been unnecessary.

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Chapter 7.

'The Daughter of Debate'

Mary, Queen of Scots had since 1558 considered herself the rightful Queen of England; in fact, her chief preoccupation was her interest in the English succession, and she had therefore consistently refused to ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh, which denied her the right to be even 'second in the kingdom' as Elizabeth's heir. She had also declined to acknowledge Elizabeth's title as Queen of England, and continued to flaunt the English royal arms quartered with her own. It was because of this that in the summer of 1561 Elizabeth refused Mary a safe-conduct through England on her way home to Scotland. She later changed her mind, but by then Mary had taken ship from France and landed at Leith, the port of Edinburgh, on 19 August.

Mary's return to the kingdom she had not seen for twelve years perturbed Elizabeth in several ways. Apart from the dynastic threat posed by her cousin, who was regarded by many Catholics in Europe as having a better title to the English throne than Elizabeth, there was the possibility of religious conflict north of the border: Mary had told the Pope that she intended to restore the Catholic faith in her Scottish kingdom.

On a more personal level Elizabeth regarded Mary as her rival: younger than Elizabeth, and reputedly more beautiful, Mary's widowhood meant that the Queen of England was no longer the most desirable match in Europe. It was universally assumed that Mary must marry again, and her choice of husband was also a matter of concern to her cousin, who feared the arrival of a powerful foreign Catholic prince in the neighbouring kingdom. Above all, the near-proximity of the Catholic claimant to the throne posed a continuing threat to the Queen's security. These preoccupations, and the rivalry between the two female sovereigns, were to become the focal points of Anglo-Scots relations for the next quarter of a century.

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Born in 1542, Mary had succeeded her father James V within a week of her birth. In order to escape Henry VIII's 'rough wooing' of her as a bride for his son, the future Edward VI, she was sent at the age of five to the French court, where she was educated with the children of Henry II, becoming betrothed to the Dauphin Francis. Her formative years were spent in a luxurious and stable environment, quite the opposite to that in which her cousin Elizabeth grew to maturity.

Mary's education followed traditional lines in many respects. She was imbued with a deep reverence for the Catholic faith, and taught the accomplishments then considered desirable in a well-born woman. Unlike Elizabeth, she was no bluestocking, preferring the bawdy satires of Rabelais, or courtly verse of Ronsard, to weightier works in Latin or Greek. She was brought up to speak and write French as if it were her native tongue, and was taught only a smattering of Italian, Spanish, and Latin, which she could understand but not write. When she returned to her native land, she could remember just enough Scots to carry on polite conversations with Sir Nicholas Throckmorton and John Knox, though she made efforts to improve her command of the language. Although Henry II had groomed Mary as the future Queen of France, Scotland and England, he had not thought fit to have her taught any English, and she did not learn it until well into adult life.

The Queen who returned to Scotland was to all intents and purposes an elegant and graceful Frenchwoman, able to compose stylish sonnets and produce exquisite needlework and embroideries, of which many examples still survive today; she was also an accomplished calligrapher. Always exquisitely dressed, she loved music, dancing, ballets and masques, and was an excellent horsewoman.

Having lived at the French court, she was quite worldly-wise, and there is no doubt that she was extremely attractive to men, which the dour John Knox referred to as 'some enchantment, whereby men are bewitched'. Despite her virtuous reputation, her romantic and impulsive nature led her, however innocently, to encourage men, and because she was a notoriously bad judge of character, this could sometimes have disastrous results: a few tried to take liberties, and others would later cause her worse grief. Moreover, although she was accomplished at exerting her famous charm over even the soberest of men, she found that the opposite sex were more than a match for her when it came to the business of ruling her kingdom. Her own ambassador to England, William Maitland of Lethington, told Thomas Randolph that Mary lacked the mature judgement and political experience of Elizabeth.

At six feet, Mary was exceptionally tall in an age when people were generally shorter than they are today. She was also slim, and had a very pale complexion, frizzy chestnut hair and brown eyes. Her slightly 126.

oriental features were somewhat marred by an over-long nose, inherited from her father. Graceful and dignified in her bearing, she was yet considered to be a most approachable monarch. She was kind and loyal to her friends, and her servants adored her.

Mary was an indomitable woman with strongly-held convictions and the courage to defend them, but she lacked practical experience in the art of government. Ever at the mercy of her emotions, she was subject to mood swings, and rarely hid her feelings. When things went well, she was buoyant with happiness, but setbacks or stress could plunge her into so lachrymose a depression that one English ambassador was driven to describe her as 'a sick, crazed woman'. The unkindness of others could reduce her to the point of collapse, and there were times when she spent days in bed recovering from nervous strain - which was regarded as very odd by many of her contemporaries. Unlike Elizabeth, Mary did not enjoy robust good physical health, but was intermittently ill, often with a mysterious pain in her side. It is possible that these ailments were of an hysterical origin.

For Mary, the kingdom of Scotland came as something of a culture shock after the refinement and luxury of the French court. Scotland was remote from the rest of Europe and had been largely by-passed by the civilising influence of the Renaissance. The climate was chilly and the nobility, who lived in primitive castles and peel towers, uncouth and violent. The religious settlement was strictly Calvinist, and despite the generally warm welcome she received from her subjects, Mary was soon being lectured by John Knox on the 'idolatry' of her masses, which she openly heard in the royal chapels. Knox, whose sermons made Mary weep with anger, feared that the Queen might try to effect a Counter Reformation, but the ruling Protestant clique were prepared to tolerate her Catholicism, having been snubbed - as they saw it - by Elizabeth's failure to marry Arran and ally herself with them. For her part, Mary did not understand the Scots people, nor did she perceive how much, after their struggle with her mother, they hated all things French. To many of them, she seemed a foreigner.

Nevertheless, she was willing to make compromises, and was soon announcing that there should be liberty of worship for all her subjects. Her conciliatory approach found favour with the Scots lords and before long she had established a strong following amongst them.

For the first few years of her reign, Mary's chief adviser was her older half-brother, James Stuart, whom she created Earl of Moray in 1562. Moray was one of King James V's numerous bastards, and had come to prominence as one of the Lords of the Congregation who had masterminded the Scottish Reformation of 1560. Despite this, Moray had vigorously taken the Queen's part against John Knox, by insisting 127.

on her right to hear mass in her private chapel, and for this she rewarded him with her confidence. Thereafter, until she married, she followed his guidance in ruling Scotland Elizabeth's feelings towards Mary were ambivalent: on the one hand she saw her as a dangerous rival, and on the other she felt a great affinity with her as another female sovereign and as her cousin. Because of this, she decided that, if Mary showed herself willing to renounce her pretensions to the English throne, then she, Elizabeth, would be her friend. Although the Council advised against it, she insisted that she should meet with the Scots Queen, believing that, face to face, they would between themselves resolve the vexed question of the succession and possible misunderstandings over the Treaty of Edinburgh.

It was not long before Mary came to the same conclusion. She had cause to resent Elizabeth, who had done much to help establish the Protestant religion in her kingdom, but Mary also realised that friendly personal relations between herself and Elizabeth could only be advantageous. Her continued refusal to ratify the Treaty of Edinburgh stemmed partly from fear that renouncing the right to use the arms of England might prejudice her future chances of succeeding Elizabeth. Moray and the Scots lords advised her to come to an agreement with her cousin: in return for Mary's renunciation of her claim to the English throne, Elizabeth might be persuaded to recognise her as her heiress presumptive. When this was reported to Elizabeth, she characteristically hedged, whilst Cecil privately shuddered at the prospect of yet another female on the throne after the decease of its present impossible occupant.

Mary sent William Maitland to England with friendly greetings and instructions to ask Elizabeth if she would be prepared to revise the terms of the Treaty of Edinburgh. After a warm welcome, he wasted no time in asserting Mary's claim to be acknowledged as heiress presumptive to the English throne. Elizabeth did not hide her disappointment.

'I looked for another message from the Queen your sovereign,' she said. 'I have long enough been fed with fair words.' No, she went on, she would not meddle with the succession.