besieged by those who craved his patronage. As a result of this the number of his clients and those beholden to him increased, affording him a substantial following. Sensitive about his lack of popularity and disinterested supporters, he was usually quick to revenge himself on those of his followers who failed to reciprocate his kindness, but steadfast and generous to those whose loyalty was genuine.

Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick was still in Newhaven, trying to cope on insufficient funds with a plague-ridden army whose numbers were dwindling at an alarming rate. In July, Elizabeth agreed that he had no choice but to surrender Newhaven to the French, but during negotiations he was shot in the leg by an enemy musket. At the end of the month, having withdrawn from France with as much honour as he could salvage, Warwick returned home, but his leg would never fully heal, and he walked with a stick for the rest of his life. Lord Robert went down to Portsmouth to welcome his brother but the Queen sent a messenger after him to warn him that he was in danger of catching the plague from the returning troops. Dudley defied her, having found Ambrose in bed in some pain, and an angry Elizabeth commanded him to stay put in case he brought the contagion back to court.

Elizabeth was in no very good mood just then: she was furious with the French and humiliated over the loss of Newhaven. It seemed that Calais would never be recovered, and to make matters worse there was grumbling in England against the incompetence of women rulers. De Quadra reported that he had heard people blame the Queen for what had happened and say, 'God help England and send it a king.'

As Elizabeth feared, the returning soldiers had brought the plague to England. For the rest of the summer, it raged unchecked, claiming, in London alone, three thousand souls each week, and in the suburbs around the capital twenty thousand altogether. One of those who succumbed was Bishop de Quadra, who died in August, having been a source of trouble to Elizabeth to the last. His mischievous reports had done much to weaken the friendship between England and Spain.

That month, Elizabeth sent Thomas Randolph back to Scotland, with instructions to persuade Mary to allow Elizabeth to choose her a husband. He was to say that if Mary consented 'to content us and this our nation in her marriage', Elizabeth would be as a mother to her and would 'proceed to the inquisition of her right and title to be our next heir, and to further that which shall appear advantageous to her'. The only clue as to whom the chosen husband might be lay in the reference to 'some person of noble birth within our realm, yea, perchance such as she would hardly think we could agree unto'.

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Mary, however, did not understand what was implied, and begged for clarification. Who, among the English aristocracy, would her 'good sister' regard as suitable? Randolph, who knew of Elizabeth's intentions, was praying he would not have to tell her, opining to Cecil that it was asking too much of her 'noble stomach' to debase her 'so low as to many in place inferior to herself. Fortunately for him, Elizabeth was still playing for time and, in the interests of retaining Mary's interest and preventing her from pursuing other marriage plans, kept her guessing for the next few months. Thus when Randolph went home, Mary was none the wiser.

In the autumn of 1563, Don Carlos fell seriously ill, and this appeared to signal the end of Mary Stuart's hopes of a Spanish marriage. Finding the right husband was, for the Scots Queen, a priority, not only for political and dynastic reasons - she, like Elizabeth, had no heir of her body - but also because she was unsuited to the single life. Thomas Randolph attributed her bouts of depression and crying to emotional frustration and unsatisfied desire.

Don Carlos's illness was more than convenient for Elizabeth, who had done everything she could behind the scenes to delay Mary from marrying until a safe husband could be found for her.

It was at this time that Elizabeth, mindful of her promise to Parliament, attempted to revive negotiations for her own marriage to the Archduke Charles. This appeared at first to be a forlorn hope, because, despite being reminded of the advantages of an alliance with 'such a Helen, accompanied by such a dowry and so much dignity', the Emperor was justifiably suspicious of Elizabeth's motives and would not have forgotten that she had formerly rejected his son. There was also the persistent gossip about Dudley. He now had apartments next to the Queen's in all the royal palaces; he was the host at most courtly entertainments; he kept state like a prince, and enjoyed vast power and influence.

In spite of these obstacles, Elizabeth expected the Archduke to make the first move towards reviving his courtship - it was unthinkable that she, a woman, should take the initiative. Cecil therefore wrote to one of his agents in Germany, who in turn approached the Duke of Wurttemberg, who in his turn sent a letter to the Emperor. Ferdinand consented to the reopening of negotiations, but proceeded with caution, as did Cecil, who made it clear that the Archduke must take matters slowly, since the Queen was much inclined to celibacy. She had acknowledged that the Archduke was the best foreign match for her, but she waxed alternately hot and cold over the matter.

In January 1564, the Duke of Wurttemberg, acting on the Emperor's behalf, sent an envoy, Ahasverus Allinga, to Windsor to discover the 146.

Queen's true feelings about the marriage. Allinga was received by Elizabeth with just Cecil and two maids of honour present. The envoy and the Secretary praised the merits and advantages of the match, whereupon the Queen replied that they might save their breath, 'For she would never be induced by any appeals to reason but only by stern necessity, as she had already inwardly resolved that, if she ever married, it would be as Queen and not as Elizabeth.' She said she blamed the Emperor for the failure of the earlier negotiations: he had behaved like an old woman, refusing to allow his son to visit her in England. She insisted that she would never accept a suitor without seeing him first, and that the Archduke must make the first move towards reviving the courtship, for she herself could not do so 'without covering herself in ignominy'. She added that, for her part, she would far rather be a beggarwoman and single than a queen and married.

Not surprisingly, Allinga told Cecil afterwards that there was no point in pursuing the matter further, but Cecil was reassuring, saying the Queen had told him how much she had enjoyed her interview with him. Knowing her of old, he said, he believed she was by no means disinclined to the marriage. Much dissatisfied and confused, Allinga returned home.

By March 1564, it was obvious that Elizabeth could keep Mary guessing as to the identity of her suitor no longer. She therefore told Randolph he might now speak without using 'obscure terms', but when the time came to tell Mary who it was that Elizabeth wished her to marry, he hedged so much that she cut in incredulously, 'Now, Mr Randolph, doth your mistress in good earnest wish me to marry my Lord Robert?'

Randolph, cringing, admitted that it was. 'It pleased Her Grace to hear me with meetly good patience,' but she was in fact amazed and somewhat affronted by Elizabeth's plan, although remaining outwardly cordial. She was determined to be her own mistress, and certainly did not consider Dudley a fit mate for one whose previous husband had been the King of France and who was herself a reigning sovereign. Haughtily, she asked Randolph if this plan conformed to Elizabeth's promise 'to use me as her sister or daughter. Do you think that it may stand with my honour to marry a subject?' Randolph replied that no better man could be found, and that this marriage could bring good to her realm. Mary would only say that she would consider the matter in private.

She might have been more amenable to the offer of Dudley's hand if it had been accompanied by an undertaking from Elizabeth to declare her heiress presumptive to the English throne. Instead, she felt she was being made a fool of. Not for a minute did she believe that Elizabeth 147.

would really part with him - a view shared by many other people -although Elizabeth gave every appearance of being serious.

Mary's lack of enthusiasm for the marriage was shared by Dudley himself, who was panic-stricken at the prospect of leaving England for what he perceived to be a land of barbarians, and even more distraught at the thought of leaving Elizabeth, whom he still cherished some hopes of marrying. Yet Elizabeth was so insistent upon his co-operation that he had little choice but to acquiesce.

She now revived her plans for a meeting with Mary, suggesting that it should take place in the summer. Mary, however, had no desire to meet her cousin face to face just then, for she was secretly trying to reopen negotiations for her marriage to Don Carlos, and did not want to prejudice them by seeming to favour a match with Robert Dudley. She therefore declined the invitation, giving Elizabeth offence and causing a cooling in Anglo-Scots relations which lasted through the summer.

On 11 April, England and France signed the Treaty of Troyes, bringing hostilities between them to an end and placing Calais firmly beyond reach of recovery.

In June, Philip II sent a new ambassador to England, Don Diego de Guzman de Silva, who did much to foster good Anglo-Spanish relations. In the same month the Emperor Ferdinand died, and was succeeded by his eldest son, who was crowned as Maximilian II. These events brought talk of Elizabeth's marriage to the Archduke to a temporary standstill, but the new Emperor was more in favour of the match than his father had been, although anxious to ensure that his brother 'would not, as on the last occasion, suffer himself to be led by the nose'.

On 5 August, one of the most famous progresses of her reign brought Elizabeth to Cambridge, where she stayed for five days. Strikingly attired in a gown of black velvet slashed with rose, with a netted caul studded with pearls and gems and a feathered and bejewelled hat atop her red hair, the Queen entered the city preceded by trumpets and attended by a magnificent retinue. She was welcomed by Cecil in his capacity as Chancellor of the University and by the scholars, 'lowly kneeling', crying, 'Vivat ReginaV 'Vivat ReginaV During the visit she enjoyed a full programme of ceremonies, entertainments and, as she had requested, 'all manner of scholastic exercises', mostly organised by Dudley, who, at Cecil's request, acted as Master of Ceremonies. Elizabeth was particularly impressed with the glories of King's College Chapel - 'the best in our realm' - and its choir. She visited most of the colleges, including Trinity, founded by her father, and St John's, founded by her great-grandmother, Lady Margaret 148.

Beaufort. She attended lectures and Latin plays, listened to orations, addresses and disputations, received gifts of books, gloves and comfits (sweetmeats), and tried whenever possible to talk - in the mandatory Latin - to the scholars themselves. She made elegant speeches in that language, to great acclaim: in one she promised to build a new college a promise never fulfilled in Cambridge, but in Oxford, where she founded Jesus College in 1571.

When the Public Orator openly praised her virginity, Elizabeth was touched, and replied, 'God's blessing on your heart, there there continue.' As he extolled her other manifold virtues, she shook her head, bit her lips and fingers, and displayed uncharacteristic embarrassment. continue.' As he extolled her other manifold virtues, she shook her head, bit her lips and fingers, and displayed uncharacteristic embarrassment.

When she 'cheerfully departed' from Cambridge on 10 August, a day later than planned, she said she would have stayed longer if 'provision of beer and ale could have been made' for the court.

After the progress had ended there were widespread rumours in London that the Queen would marry the Archduke and was about to dispatch an embassy to Vienna, ostensibly to offer formal condolences to Maximilian II on the death of his father, but in reality to conclude the marriage. In fact, Elizabeth was stalling yet again.

She still favoured the plan to marry Dudley to Mary Stuart, but the Earl of Lennox, who was finally permitted to return to Scotland that September, warned Randolph that there was no chance of this happening: 'He has not descended from a great old house, and his blood is spotted. I fear we shall not accept him.' If the English pressed the matter, the Scots would turn to his own son, Lord Darnley.

At Elizabeth's command, Cecil did press the matter, writing a sixteen- page justification of the marriage to Randolph, which averred that Mary would have with Dudley the promise of the English succession, subject, of course, to the consent of Parliament. But Mary wanted more concrete assurances than that, and was angered that something she felt should be hers by right should be offered her only with conditions attached to it.

She was concerned, however, that her disinclination to accept Dudley might mar friendly relations between the two countries, and in September, in order to emphasise her goodwill, she sent a seasoned diplomat, the urbane, charming and cultivated Sir James Melville, to England. Years later, in his memoirs, Melville wrote a lively account of this and later visits, which is a valuable, if not entirely reliable source for historians.

Elizabeth wasted no time in complaining to Melville about the offensive tone of one of Mary's recent letters. She withdrew from her purse and showed him a strong reply she had composed, informing him 149.

that she had not sent it because she felt it was too mild. Melville managed to convince her that Mary had meant no harm, and she happily tore up both letters.

Sir James's wit and polish had impressed Elizabeth at that first interview, and throughout the nine days of his stay she would summon him to attend her as often as possible, flirting with him and angling for compliments. His long years of service at the courts of France, Italy and Germany had made him proficient in languages, which meant that Elizabeth could show off her skills as a linguist. She also dressed to impress him, one day in the English style, a second in the French style, and a third in the Italian style. When she asked him which he preferred, 'I said the Italian dress, which pleased her well, for she delighted to show off her golden-coloured hair wearing a caul and bonnet, as they do in Italy. Her hair was more reddish than yellow, curled in appearance naturally.'

This prompted her to ask him what colour hair was considered best in his country. How did her hair compare with his queen's? Which of them was the fairest? Melville realised that future diplomatic relations between England and Scotland might depend on his answer, so he offered a tactful reply, giving it as his opinion that 'the fairness of them both was not their worst fault'; when pressed to say more, he pronounced that Elizabeth was the fairest Queen in England and Mary the fairest Queen in Scotland. But this was not enough for Elizabeth, who archly insisted that he make a choice. Deftly, he answered that 'they were both the fairest ladies of their courts, and that Her Majesty was white [in complexion], but our Queen was very lovely'.

'Who is the higher?' demanded Elizabeth, after a pause.

Melville said that Mary was.

'Then she is over-high', was the retort, 'for I am neither over-high nor over-low.'

'Then she asked what kind of exercises [Mary] used. I answered that when I was dispatched out of Scotland, the Queen was lately come from the Highland hunting; that when she had leisure from the affairs of her country, she read good books, the histories of divers countries, and sometimes would play upon the lute and virginals. [Elizabeth] asked if she played well.'

'Reasonably, for a queen,' Melville answered.

That evening, determined to show him that she herself had the edge when it came to music, Elizabeth arranged for her cousin, Lord Hunsdon, to bring Melville, seemingly by chance, to a gallery overlooking a chamber where she would be alone, playing the virginals. Hunsdon acted out this little charade, and when Melville, who was not fooled, commented on the excellence of Elizabeth's playing, she 150.

pretended she had not known he was there and, coming towards him and 'seeming to strike me with her left hand', alleged 'that she used not to play before men, but when she was solitary, to shun melancholy'. Chiding him for entering her chamber without leave, she asked how he came to be there. Gallantly, he excused himself, saying, 'I heard such melody as ravished me and drew me within the chamber, I wit not how.' Much pleased, the Queen sank down on a cushion, and when Melville knelt at her side, 'She gave me a cushion with her own hand to lay under my knee, which at first I refused, but she compelled me to take it.' When she asked who was now the better musician, herself or Mary, he conceded that she was.

To please her, he delayed his departure so that he could stay at court one more night and watch her dance. Predictably, Elizabeth asked if Mary danced as well as she. 'Not so high and disposedly,' was the flattering answer.

On 28 September, the final morning of his visit, Melville was present with other ambassadors when, at a splendid ceremony in the Presence Chamber at St James's Palace, Elizabeth at last raised Robert Dudley to the peerage. To make Queen Mary 'think the more of him', he was created Baron Denbigh and Earl of Leicester in the presence of a glittering throng of dignitaries and courtiers. It was a solemn occasion, with the new Earl, whose motto was to be 'Droit et loyal', 'Droit et loyal', conducting himself with the utmost gravity and dignity, so that Melville was shocked to see Elizabeth smilingly tickle the kneeling Robert's neck as she invested him with the collar of his earldom and his ermine-lined mantle. This was an act at odds with her repeated assertions that she looked upon Dudley as merely 'a brother and best friend'. conducting himself with the utmost gravity and dignity, so that Melville was shocked to see Elizabeth smilingly tickle the kneeling Robert's neck as she invested him with the collar of his earldom and his ermine-lined mantle. This was an act at odds with her repeated assertions that she looked upon Dudley as merely 'a brother and best friend'.

When the ceremony was over, Elizabeth spoke with Melville, asking, 'How like you my new creation?' Melville, knowing how unpopular the Dudley marriage was in Scotland, made a polite but noncommittal response, whereupon the Queen pointed at the young Lord Darnley, who was in attendance as her sword-bearer, saying, 'And yet ye like better of yonder long lad!'

Gazing distastefully at the effeminate-looking youth, Melville replied, 'No woman of spirit would make choice of such a man, that was liker a woman than a man, for he is very lusty, beardless and lady-faced.'

Elizabeth was at pains to prove to Melville how sincere she was in her desire to marry Leicester to Mary, and invited him, in the company of Leicester and Cecil, into her bedchamber, to show him her treasures. From a little cabinet she took a miniature of the Scots Queen and kissed it affectionately. Sir James noticed another object in the cabinet, wrapped in paper which was inscribed in her own hand 'My Lord's picture', but it took all his powers of persuasion to persuade Elizabeth 151.

to show him the miniature of Leicester that was within the paper. When he declared that this would be the perfect gift for his Queen, Elizabeth refused to part with it on the grounds that she had no copy.

'But Your Majesty has the original,' Melville protested jocularly, although he was privately coming round to the opinion that the Queen was beginning to regret ever offering Leicester to Mary. This was not surprising, as he had noticed that Elizabeth and Leicester were 'inseparable'.

Nor would she give him another of her treasures, a ruby 'as great as a tennis ball'. If Queen Mary followed her advice, she said, 'she would in process of time get all she had'. In the meantime, Elizabeth would send her a beautiful diamond.

Conversation between Melville and the Queen was not confined entirely to pleasantries. On one occasion they discussed Mary's marriage prospects, then Elizabeth told him 'that it was her own resolution at this moment to remain till her death a virgin queen, and that nothing would compel her to change her mind except the undutiful behaviour of the Queen her sister'. A perceptive Melville replied sadly, 'Madam, you need not tell me that. I know your stately stomach. You think if you were married, you would only be a queen of England, and now ye are king and queen both. You may not endure a commander.'

Sir James managed to speak in private with Leicester, who told him that he was not worthy to wipe the shoes of the Queen of Scots. He made it plain that he felt no enthusiasm for the marriage, and blamed the whole project on Cecil, 'his secret enemy', who wanted him out of the way.

During his stay, Melville had talked to many people at court and at the Spanish embassy, where opinion of the Queen was hostile, and formed his own views of Elizabeth. When he returned home, he would increase Mary's suspicions, and do no great service to Anglo-Scots relations, by telling her that her cousin was not a plain dealer but a great dissimulator. The only positive development arising from his visit was an agreement that commissioners from England and Scotland should meet at Berwick to discuss the Dudley marriage. Elizabeth had told Melville that 'if she had ever wanted to take a husband, she would have chosen Lord Robert, but, being determined to end her life in virginity, she wished that the Queen her sister should marry him, as meetest of all others. It would best remove out of her mind all fear and suspicion to be offended by usurpation before her death, being assured that he was so loving and trusty that he would never give his consent nor suffer such thing to be attempted during her time.'

Melville had played along with this, but he had also gon- to the Spanish embassy in a vain attempt to revive the project to marry Mary 152.

to Don Carlos. Mary had virtually given up hope of this match, but she needed to be certain that it was moribund before looking elsewhere for a husband. It was: Don Carlos was now so mentally unstable that there was no question of his marrying anyone.

Never having seriously considered Robert Dudley as a consort, Mary had found herself pondering more and more the idea of marrying the young Lord Darnley. As the Lennoxes had pointed out, there were definite advantages to it: the union of two claims to the English throne, and the enlistment of the Catholic Lennox faction - which Mary believed to be more powerful than it actually was - on the side of the Crown. There was one problem: Darnley was still in England - he and his mother were living at court, having been refused permission to accompany Lennox to Scotland - and it was doubtful if Elizabeth would allow him, as her subject, to leave.

After confirming that there was no hope of the Spanish match, Melville, again on Mary's instructions, saw Lady Lennox to discuss the possibility of a marriage between his queen and Lord Darnley. She welcomed him warmly and showered him with presents for Mary, Moray and Maitland, 'for she was still in good hope that her son would speed better than the Earl of Leicester concerning the marriage of our Queen'.

Elizabeth, ever perceptive, had already sniffed an intrigue. She had regretted her earlier letter to Mary, asking for Lennox to be restored to his estates, and had written recently to her in an attempt to persuade her to refuse him entry, although Mary would not go back on her word.

When the English and Scots commissioners met at Berwick in November, relations became fraught. Mary's half-brother, the Earl of Moray, demanded to know precisely what Elizabeth meant to do for Mary in the event of her accepting Leicester, but failed to extract any sureties from the English lords, who would only repeat that there was no better way than this marriage to further Mary's claim to the succession. Tempers flared, and the Scots left the conference angry and insulted.

The following month, both Moray and Maitland wrote to Cecil to say that Mary would not consider marrying Leicester unless Elizabeth promised to settle the succession on her. To everyone's surprise, Elizabeth did nothing. She suspected now that Mary would never accept Leicester, and she also knew that Mary had hopes of marrying Darnley, for which she would have to be a suitor to Elizabeth, whose subject Darnley was. With the focus on Mary in the role of supplicant, Elizabeth would not lose face over her cousin's rejection of her own candidate. Anticipating this, Cecil, enthusiastically backed by a relieved Leicester, suggested that Darnley be allowed to visit his father in Scotland, in order 153.

to whet the Queen of Scots' appetite. According to Mary herself, Leicester even wrote to her to warn her that Elizabeth's plan for their marriage had been a mere ploy to discourage more dangerous suitors. As for Elizabeth, her enthusiasm for the project was waning, and, like Cecil, she had already begun to believe that a marriage between Mary and Darnley was less of a threat to England than one between Mary and a powerful Catholic prince because, having recently come to know him better, she took the view that Darnley was a harmless political lightweight. However, for tactical reasons she still would not allow him to go to Scotland.

Leicester, recently appointed Chancellor of the University of Oxford by the Queen, now renewed his courtship of her, having been at pains during the past months to demonstrate that his real future lay at her side, where he could serve her best. He had enlisted the aid of de Silva, the new Spanish ambassador, against her plan to marry him to Mary, and had also been active in promoting Lord Darnley as a suitor for the Scots Queen. It was now his belief that Elizabeth had devised the scheme to unite him with Mary as a test of his loyalty to herself; having, as he saw it, proved that loyalty, he saw no reason why he should not capitalise upon it.

Fears about the succession were revived in December when the Queen fell 'perilously sick' with gastroenteritis. Fortunately, her recovery was speedy, but, as Cecil informed Throckmorton, 'For the time she made us sore afraid.' There was renewed pressure on her to marry, and Cecil invoked the aid of God, praying that He would 'lead by the hand some meet person to come and lay hand on her to her contentation'. Otherwise, he told Throckmorton, 'I assure you, as now things having in desperation, I have no comfort to live.'

Bishop John Jewel of Salisbury spoke for many when he wrote, 'O how wretched are we, who cannot tell under what sovereign we are to live! God will, I trust, long preserve Elizabeth to us in life and safety!'

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Chapter 9.

A Matter Dangerous to the Common Amity,'

In the early months of 1565, Cecil had cause to hope that Elizabeth was seriously considering a foreign marriage. Not only was the Archduke expected to renew his suit, but there had also been a proposal, sent by Catherine de' Medici via her envoy, Paul de Foix, that the Queen marry Charles IX. The French Queen was determined to prevent at all costs an English alliance with the Habsburgs. Elizabeth was privately unenthusiastic: she was thirty-one and Charles only fourteen, and she told de Silva that she did not relish the world making fun of 'an old woman and a child' at the church door. Sir Thomas Smith, her ambassador in Paris, had informed her that the young King was likely to be tall, though with knobbly knees and ankles and badly-proportioned legs. He gabbled his words rapidly and, having a volatile nature, was liable to act impulsively. Moreover, he spoke not a word of English. Even the Queen's jester urged her not to marry him, for he was 'but a boy and a babe'.

Elizabeth told de Foix she feared she was too old to marry his master. She would rather die than be despised and abandoned by a younger husband, as her sister had been. Why, the age gap was so wide that people would say King Charles had married his mother!

Offended, de Foix intimated that the matter should end there, but Elizabeth still needed to keep the French friendly and prevent them from making a new alliance with the Scots. She also wished to show the Habsburgs that they were not the only contenders for her hand. Thus she embarked on her old game of stringing along her suitors with half- promises and hope. Her opening gambit was to fly into a temper and accuse the French King of having so little regard for her that he was prepared to drop his suit so precipitately. She had only wished to draw attention to the difficulties that might be faced, so that the French would understand why she could not give an answer at once.

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She then wrote to Sir Thomas Smith in Paris, asking for his honest opinion of Charles. He reported that he thought the King would be a good husband for her, for he appeared 'tractable and wise for his years. I dare put myself in pledge to Your Highness that Your Majesty shall like him.'

Elizabeth told de Foix that she would have to consult with her nobles, many of whom were openly hostile to the match. Only Leicester seemed in favour of it, since he welcomed anything that diverted the Queen's mind from thoughts of the more feasible Habsburg marriage. Cecil said nothing, but he did not regard Elizabeth's interest in Charles as being serious. Most of her Council advised against the marriage, particularly the Earl of Sussex, who warned that Charles would follow 'French usage' and 'live with pretty girls' in France, rendering useless 'all hope of an heir'.

De Foix, ignorant of what was being said behind closed doors, sensed success and, when with the Queen went into eulogies about the precocity and unusual maturity of his sovereign. For the next five months Elizabeth enjoyed the pleasures of courtship, agreeing to exchange portraits and even discussing the prospect of King Charles paying her a secret visit. Primed by his mother, Charles announced that he was in love with the Queen of England, and played the part of an ardent suitor. Throughout this time, however, Elizabeth resisted all pressure from de Foix to give a definite answer, and privately considered whether she should instead marry the Archduke.

Throughout this time, Leicester continued warmly to support the French match, though Cecil and the Imperial envoys guessed, rightly, that this was a front to mask his own ambitions. It was obvious that he was encouraging the Queen to delay making a decision in order to prevent her from marrying anyone other than himself.

By February 1565, Thomas Randolph had worked tirelessly for a year and a half to bring to a successful conclusion the Queen's plan to marry Mary to Leicester, and was under the impression that Mary was at last coming round to the idea: she had hinted that, if the terms were favourable, she might accept the newly-created Earl, and a jubilant Randolph wrote immediately to his mistress to tell her the good news. He was therefore bitterly disappointed when Cecil informed him that the Queen had just changed her mind and, at the request of Queen Mary and Lady Lennox, allowed Lord Darnley to go to Scotland, ostensibly on the pretext of having family business to attend to. Elizabeth was no fool, and knew perfectly well why he was going; many people believed, especially later, that, knowing more about Darnley's character than her cousin, she had allowed him to go on the premise 156.

that, if she gave Mary enough rope, she would hang herself.

On the three nights before Darnley's arrival there, spectral warriors were reportedly seen fighting in the streets of Edinburgh at midnight, which the superstitious took as a portent that something terrible was about to happen. Mary gave no credence to the tales, and when Darnley arrived in Edinburgh on 13 February, she extended to him a warm welcome.

His attraction for her was immediate and strong; Melville says she tried to control her feelings, but it was not long before she was so infatuated that she could not bear to be apart from Darnley. At nineteen, three years her junior, he was a physically attractive, curly-haired, well- mannered young man with various accomplishments; he wrote elegant letters, could play the lute expertly and excelled at athletics. Mary thought him 'the lustiest and best proportioned long man' she had ever seen. What was not yet apparent to her was that, beneath the courtly veneer, he was spoilt, petulant, self-indulgent, unstable, aggressive and at times grossly uncouth. Blind to everything but her feelings for him, Mary was ready to set aside all considerations of state and the common good, and unwilling to listen to those of her nobles who spoke out against the marriage or advised caution.

Without giving any hint of her intentions towards Darnley, Mary wrote twice to Elizabeth that February to urge that her claim to the succession be recognised. On 15 March, Randolph delivered the English Queen's reply, which was that if Mary, her good sister, consented to marry Leicester, she, Elizabeth, would advance him all the honour she could and would promote Mary's claim behind the scenes, but she could not allow her claim to be formally examined, nor would she publish it until such time as she herself was married or had made known her resolve to remain single - one or other of which she meant shortly to do. On hearing this, Mary 'wept her fill', using 'evil speech of the Queen's Majesty, alleging she abused her' and wasted her time.

By now, Mary was deeply involved with Darnley. When he became ill with measles, she was frantic in case he might die, and did not trouble to hide it. She even risked infection to visit and nurse him. When he recovered, she knew she wanted to marry him. According to Randolph, it was obvious what she had in mind, although many of her advisers expressed reservations. 'A great number wish him well, albeit others doubt him and deeplier consider what is fit for their country than a fair, jolly young man.' Moray and his followers took the poorest view, anticipating that Darnley's Catholicism would lead to 'the utter overthrow and subversion of them and their houses'.

Concerns were being expressed in England too about a queen's love 157.

affair. Leicester had taken the Spanish ambassador de Silva riding in Windsor Great Park early one morning, coming back on the path overlooked by the Queen's lodgings. Leicester's fool was in the party and he began to shout out, announcing Leicester's presence; when the Queen came to her window, de Silva was shocked to see that she was wearing a very revealing nightgown, and that she seemed unaware of her deshabille deshabille when she greeted the Earl. It was well-known at court that Leicester visited her in her chamber each morning whilst she was being dressed, and she had been seen to kiss him as he passed her her shift -that most basic of female undergarments. when she greeted the Earl. It was well-known at court that Leicester visited her in her chamber each morning whilst she was being dressed, and she had been seen to kiss him as he passed her her shift -that most basic of female undergarments.

Fuelled by such gossip, the feud between Leicester and Norfolk was still simmering. That March, an ugly incident occurred in the tennis court at Whitehall, where the two naen were playing the game of royal (real) tennis with the Queen looking on. Dudley, 'being very hot and sweating, took her napkin out of her hand and wiped his face'. Shocked at such disrespect, Norfolk lost his temper, accused Leicester of being 'too saucy and swore that he would lay his racquet upon his face'. And he would have done so had not the Queen's strident order made him desist. Afterwards, it was Norfolk who felt the full brunt of her anger, not Leicester, which hardly improved matters between them.

That same month, Leicester continued his campaign for the Queen's hand by arranging for a company of players from Gray's Inn to perform at court before the Queen. The entertainment began with a supper hosted by himself, then, reported de Silva, there was a joust and a tourney on horseback. The challengers were the Earl of Essex, the Earl of Sussex and Lord Hunsdon. When this was ended we went to the Queen's rooms and descended to where all was prepared for the representation of a comedy in English. The plot was founded on the question of marriage, discussed between Juno and Diana, Juno advocating marriage and Diana chastity. Jupiter gave the verdict in favour of matrimony. The Queen turned to me and said, 'This is all against me.'

De Silva considered this 'very novel . . . After the comedy, there was a masquerade of satyrs, or wild gods, who danced with the ladies, and when this was finished there entered ten parties of twelve gentlemen each, the same who had fought in the foot tourney, and these, all armed as they were, danced with the ladies.'

On 15 April, Randolph reported that there was more than met the eye to the rumours that Mary meant to 'forsake all other offers' and marry Darnley. Moray's faction were closing ranks against the interloper, and 158.

Mary, incited by Darnley and her Italian secretary, David Rizzio, was much vexed with them, flinging at her half-brother the accusation that 'he would set the crown on his own head'. A fatal rift between the two ensued, which would later have serious consequences.

On 18 April, Maitland arrived in London to inform Elizabeth that Mary had decided to marry Darnley. The Queen declared that she was astonished at this 'very strange and unlikely proposal' and much offended at that young man's disobedience - as her cousin and subject he needed her permission to marry. On May, through the Council, she issued a formal warning to Mary that, if she went ahead with this marriage, it would be 'unmeet, unprofitable, and perilous to the amity between the queens and both realms'. If Mary desisted, she might take her pick of 'any other of the nobility in the whole realm'. Headed by Cecil, most Privy Councillors subscribed to this document; Leicester was a notable exception. Many English councillors thought that this display of outrage was a sham: opinion hardened that Elizabeth had engineered the whole affair in order to tempt Mary into making a disastrous marriage. Nevertheless the English official view was that Mary had chosen Darnley in order to strengthen her claim to the English crown, and by so doing now posed an even greater threat to Elizabeth's security than before; moreover, the English Catholics could only be encouraged by such a development.

Throckmorton was promptly sent north to fetch Darnley home and warn Mary that this union would have been. The Queen had told him to 'stop or delay it as much as possible'; it apparently did not occur to her that Darnley might disobey her. Throckmorton arrived at the Scots court on 15 May, and saw for himself that Mary had been 'seized with love in ferventer passions than is comely for any mean personage'. Genuinely concerned, he urged her to show moderation, but without success: as Randolph noted, 'She doteth so much that some report she is bewitched. Shame is laid aside.'

Later, Throckmorton had a formal audience and registered Elizabeth's disapproval. In a royal temper Mary commanded him to tell Elizabeth that 'she did mind to use her own choice in marriage. She would no longer be fed with yea and nay.' The ambassador was so alarmed at the violence of her language that he sent a warning to Cecil.

Elizabeth was now resigned to the fact that Mary would never accept Leicester as a husband, and to save face she informed de Silva that Dudley himself had not consented to the marriage, though public opinion held that she herself could not give him up. As for Leicester, now that Elizabeth had abandoned the project, he presented himself as a suitor for the Queen's hand. He had more supporters than usual 159.

because many lords and courtiers were worried about her failure to provide for the succession.

Early in June, de Silva reported that Leicester believed the prize was within his grasp: 'It looks as if the Queen favours it also, and the French ambassador has been pointing out to her the objections to the Archduke's match, saying that he is very poor and other things of the same sort, to lead her away from the project.' De Silva expressed to the Earl of Sussex, a prominent member of the Privy Council, his opinion that Elizabeth might never marry, or, if she did, she would take none but Leicester. Sussex hated Leicester and ridiculed the very idea of his marrying the Queen: 'There is no one else but the Archduke whom she can marry,' he snapped.

Even Cecil, more fatalistic, and more sure now of his own position than he had been five years earlier, was bracing himself to accept Dudley as consort, even though, as he later noted in a private memorandum, it would bring the kingdom no benefits. On a personal level, Cecil, who had grown fond of his difficult mistress, was worried that Leicester would prove an unkind and jealous husband. But there was no gainsaying that the Earl was now, along with Norfolk, Sussex and Cecil himself, one of the four most powerful men in England.

Of these, Norfolk enjoyed the least influence. Although he was England's only duke, and therefore the premier peer, he was a bitter, frustrated man who felt that his talents had gone unrewarded. By the summer of 1565, he had come much under the influence of Sussex, both men sharing a mutual antipathy towards Leicester.

Thomas Ratcliffe, Earl of Sussex was related to the Queen through his Howard mother. Born in 1525, he had opted for a military career, and had recently completed a nine-year tour of duty as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, a difficult job which he had carried out energetically, and at times brutally, but with little success. Sir Henry Sidney, Leicester's brother-in-law, had served under him, and had no very good opinion of Sussex's abilities, which gave Leicester ample ammunition to use against the Earl. This was perhaps somewhat unfair, since Sussex had done his best in an impossible situation, and had paid for it with his health and his nerves, which had been so shattered that he had asked to be recalled.

Sussex now saw his opportunity to form a faction of Leicester's enemies, and Norfolk proved his willing tool. They were joined by the lords Hunsdon and Howard of Effingham, the Queen's uncle. Within a short while Leicester had gathered his supporters in a rival faction, and by the summer both groups were strutting about the court and city, openly bearing arms.