Chapter 9
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.
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 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 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 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 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 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.
Meanwhile, Throckmorton had demanded that Darnley and Lennox accompany him back to England forthwith, 'having failed in their duty by their arrogant and presumptuous attempts to enterprise such a matter without making Queen Elizabeth privy, being her subjects'. But he had not reckoned on a number of the Scots lords now being in favour of the match, nor on Elizabeth's lukewarm response to Moray's plea for support: she said she would only give it if his purpose was just to offer advice to his sovereign. As a sister monarch, she could not countenance rebellion against an anointed queen. Darnley refused to obey his sovereign - 'I find myself very well where I am, and so purpose to keep me' - and Throckmorton knew that it was too late to influence Mary: on 21 May he informed Elizabeth that 'This Queen is so far past in this matter with Lord Darnley as it is irrevocable.' He did, however, extract from Mary a promise that she would wait three months before making her final decision.
By now, Randolph and others had seen through Darnley, who was daily becoming more arrogant and was beginning to throw his weight about in a worrying way, and the envoy spoke for many when he voiced his concerns about Mary's headlong rush towards the altar. She had been bewitched, he concluded; she was 'so altered with affection towards Lord Darnley that she hath brought her honour in question, her estate in hazard, her country to be torn in pieces. I see also the amity between the countries like to be dissolved, and great mischiefs like to ensue.'
Queen Mary would hear no criticism of Darnley, and a gloomy Randolph lamented, 'Woe worth the time that ever the Lord Darnley set his foot in this country. What shall become of her, or what life with him she shall lead, I leave it to others to think.' He felt genuine pity for 'the lamentable estate of this poor Queen', seeing her so changed as to be almost unrecognisable: 'Her majesty laid aside, her wits not what they were, her beauty other than it was, her cheer and countenance changed into I wot not what.'
Elizabeth rarely let her heart rule her head, especially when it came to matters matrimonial, but she sometimes found the pressure to marry, or even make a decision, intolerable. In May 1565, faced with a demand from the French for an immediate answer to King Charles's proposal, and knowing what response her advisers expected her to give, she burst into tears in Council, accusing Leicester, Cecil and Throckmorton of seeking her ruin by urging her to marry. The three men, shocked at her outburst, did their best to placate her, vowing that they would never force her to do anything against her will and assuring her of their loyalty. At the end of June, realising she could not drag matters out any further, Elizabeth formally rejected Charles IX's suit on the grounds that he was too young for her: a husband could only be of use to her, she told de Foix, if he could provide her with a son. That, she made clear, was to be his chief function, since she had no intention of allowing him to usurp her control of her treasury, army or navy.
Fearing that Leicester would now seize his opportunity, Cecil, Norfolk and the Earl of Sussex used all the resources at their disposal to bring about the Habsburg match. Maximilian II's personal envoy, Adam Zwetkovich, had arrived in England in May, ostensibly to return the late Emperor's Garter insignia, but really to see if the Queen was in earnest about marrying the Archduke: another refusal would be too humiliating. He was also to make discreet enquiries as to the truth of rumours about the Queen and Leicester; if there was nothing in them, he might reopen negotiations.
So that the Emperor should be reassured that the English were serious this time, Norfolk demanded of Leicester that he support the marriage and abandon his own suit. Because Elizabeth seemed to be enthusiastic about the project for the time being, Leicester had no choice but to acquiesce, albeit unwillingly, and found himself appointed joint commissioner with Throckmorton to negotiate with Zwetkovich. If the Queen ever did marry the Archduke, Leicester stood to lose all precedence, influence and favour, and would be left to the mercy of his many enemies. The French, who had lost their chance of uniting by marriage with England against their enemy Spain, were naturally against the Habsburg match, and now did their best to persuade Elizabeth that she should marry Leicester. Much to the Earl's pique, the Queen seemed to prefer the Archduke, though it was hard for anyone to tell whether she was serious or not.
Leicester was despondent, and confided to de Silva that he believed Elizabeth would never marry him 'as she had made up her mind to wed some great prince, or at all events no subject of her own'. De Silva, however, who liked Leicester, was more optimistic, and reported to Philip II that 'Lord Robert 'the affair is not off.' His master responded by ordering him to collaborate with the Austrian envoys in bringing the Habsburg negotiations to a happy conclusion, whilst at the same time affecting to assist Leicester's cause, 'helping him in such a way that if ever his marriage to the Queen should come off, he will be bound to continue friendly'.
Zwetkovich was much encouraged by what he heard around the court. When he saw Elizabeth, he told her that the Archduke 'had a great desire to see her'. She was evasive, and rather dashed his hopes when she protested, 'I have never said to anybody that I would not marry the Earl of Leicester.' Zwetkovich assured her that Dudley was in fact 'the most important originator and warmest advocate' of her marriage to the Archduke.
'I would have stayed single', she declared, 'did not the crown of England compel me to marry to the profit of England.'
Then, appearing suddenly to view the idea of marriage with favour, she brought up the awkward subject of the malicious rumours about her relationship with Dudley: 'The House of Habsburg will find that I have always acted with due decorum.' Zwetkovich, however, wanted this corroborated, and was soon making 'diligent enquiries concerning the maiden honour and integrity of the Queen'. He was impressed to find that there was not a shred of evidence that she had ever been to the slightest degree promiscuous, and concluded that the rumours were but 'the spawn of envy and malice and hatred'. As for Leicester, he was 'loved by the most serene Queen with sincere and most chaste and most honourable love as a true brother'.
After two audiences, Zwetkovich could not, however, comprehend why Elizabeth was so changeable in her attitude to this splendid marriage offer. 'She is so nimble in her declining and threads in and out of the business in such a way that her most intimate favourites fail to understand her, and her intentions are therefore variously interpreted.' This may have been a ploy to manipulate the Austrians into offering highly advantageous terms, although during the summer the Queen's attitude to the marriage grew increasingly positive.
Zwetkovich, observing this with some relief, wondered if she might send an envoy incognito to Vienna to look at the Archduke, and he wrote to the Emperor warning him to ensure that Charles always looked his best and rode 'fiery steeds' to impress the English. Elizabeth rejected the iciea; she was still insisting that she meet her suitor before deciding to accept him, and declared that she could not trust anyone else's eyes.
'I have already said this a thousand times', she said tetchily, 'and I am still, and ever will be, of the same mind.' She asked if Charles might secretly visit her in England, saying she did not wish to give him cause to curse portrait painters and ambassadors as King Philip had done when he first set eyes on Queen Mary. The Emperor, however, viewed this suggestion as 'entirely novel and unprecedented' amongst royalty, and insisted that, if Charles were to go to England, 'it would be with all befitting ceremony' and only after the marriage negotiations had reached a satisfactory conclusion. An argument over who should finance the Archduke's household then broke out, with Elizabeth saying it was the Emperor's responsibility and Maximilian insisting it was hers.
Then the Queen began to make difficulties over religion, insisting that she could never marry anyone of another faith, since two persons of different persuasions could never live peaceably in one house, and pointing out the awful consequences for her realm if it became divided on this issue, as it surelv would be if the Archduke remained a Catholic.
Zwetkovich reminded her that she had always known that Charles was of the old faith, to which she replied that she had been given to understand that his beliefs were not deep-rooted and that he would be willing to change his opinions. Informed that he would not, she was about to abandon the whole project when Sussex intervened with a suggestion that the Archduke agree to accompany the Queen to Anglican services, whilst hearing mass in private. But the Emperor proved obdurate, and demanded that his brother and his Austrian household be allowed to hear mass in a public place. This was anathema to Elizabeth, who knew that her subjects would never tolerate it, and negotiations reached a deadlock, though both sides were still hopeful of achieving a compromise solution.
Early in the morning of 20 July 1565, despite her promise to Throckmorton, Mary, Queen of Scots married Lord Darnley at Holyrood Palace in Edinburgh. Within weeks of the lavish Catholic ceremony, the bridegroom had revealed himself for what he was - a weak-willed and dissolute bully. He had offended many of the Scottish courtiers with his arrogance, and Randolph reported, 'It is greatly to be feared that he can have no long life among these people.' Darnley wished to be crowned King Consort, but Moray successfully blocked that idea, and he had to be satisfied with the empty style 'King Henry' and the recognition of France, Spain and the Vatican.
The majority of the Scots lords had distrusted him because he was a Catholic, and realised quite soon that he was unfit to bear any form of political authority. They only tolerated him because he might be useful to them. Moray had by now made himself so unpopular with the Queen and her husband that a civil war seemed inevitable.
When told of Mary's marriage, Elizabeth rageed that her cousin had broken her promises, accused her of subverting religion in her realm, and urged her most strongly to make her peace with Moray. But Mary, 'marvellous stout', would not. She meant to rule Scotland without interference, restore the Catholic faith, and pursue the rebel lords 'to the uttermost'. She would tolerate no interference from England.
In retaliation, Elizabeth consigned Lady Lennox once again to the Tower and offered aid to Moray, though since she had no wish to provoke a war, she only sent him a small sum of money. On 5 August, she urged Mary to be reconciled to her half-brother, but Mary outlawed him the following day and, later, imperiously informed Elizabeth, 'Her Majesty desires her good sister to meddle no further.' She then had Throckmorton arrested on the grounds that he had refused to accept a safe conduct from Darnley as King. Elizabeth was furious, and indeed, she had just cause to be offended. As his sovereign, she had had every right to recall Darnley, her subject, to England, but he had defied her. She believed Mary should have insisted he obey his queen, then negotiated with Elizabeth for the marriage; instead she had married him without her cousin's permission. It is no coincidence that Elizabeth's friendship towards Mary began to dissipate at this time. From now on, her antipathy and hostility towards her cousin would be more evident. The first sign of this was her willingness to treat with Moray.
Another dynastic crisis occurred that August. Although her sister was in disgrace, the Lady Mary Grey - known derisively to the courtiers as 'Crookback Mary' - had remained in the royal household as a maid of honour to the Queen, who wanted her under her eye. Mary was now twenty-five, had no beauty or intellect to speak of, and was rather old for marriage by the standards of her day; nor was it likely that Elizabeth would ever permit her to marry.
Frustrated of a match suitable to her status, the diminutive Mary fell in love with Her Majesty's Serjeant-Porter, one Thomas Keyes of Lewisham, a man twice as old as she and reputed to be the largest man in London. At nine o'clock one night, in his lodging by the Watergate at Whitehall Palace, they were secretly married by a priest whose identity was never discovered. A few weeks later Mary confessed what she had done to the Queen, whose rage was terrible. She consigned Keyes to the Fleet Prison for three years, and only let him out on condition that he undertook never to see his wife again. The Queen did her best to have the marriage declared unlawful, but Bishop Grindal of London refused to co-operate, much to her chagrin.
Mary was sent to Chequers in Buckinghamshire - now the official country residence of the British Prime Minister - and placed under house arrest in the custody of a Mr William Hawtrey. After a time, she was transferred to the Greenwich home of Katherine Willoughby, Dowager Duchess of Suffolk, who treated her with kindness, confiding to Cecil, 'Lady Mary is so ashamed of her fault that I can scarcely get her to eat anything. I fear me she will die of her grief. A little comfort would do her good.' Despite her distress, Lady Mary remained defiant, continuing to sign her letters 'Mary Keyes'. She paid a price for her obstinacy: when her husband died in 1571, the Queen refused to allow her to wear mourning for him. She did, however, permit her to visit the court from time to time thereafter, although Mary's health had been broken by her sad experiences, and she availed herself of this privilege only very rarely.
In fact, the marriage posed no threat to Elizabeth: Keyes had no royal connections and no ambitions. There was never any suggestion that Lady Mary Grey coveted a crown. Neither had plotted treason. The draconian punishments meted out to them were an indication of how sensitive the Queen had become regarding the succession.
Elizabeth's bitterness at Lady Mary's perfidy was compounded by her grief at the death of her former governess, Katherine Ashley, who had brought her up since childhood and taken the place of the mother she had never known, standing by her in the darkest days of her youth. Ashley was replaced in her post by Mistress Eglionby of Shropshire, but for Elizabeth, life would never be the same again. She had lost a confidant, someone who loved her for herself and had dared to reprove her when she thought it necessary.
The dismal affair of Mary Grey and Mrs Ashley's death put Elizabeth quite out of temper, and that August Cecil recorded, 'The Queen seemed to be much offended with the Earl of Leicester.' The reason for this was not far to seek, for Dudley had begun a flirtation with Elizabeth's cousin and confidante, the beautiful, red-haired Lettice Knollys, who had been married four years before to Viscount Hereford and was 'one of the best looking ladies of the court'. She was the daughter of Sir Francis Knollys by Katherine Carey, whose mother, Mary Boleyn, had been sister to Elizabeth's mother, Anne Boleyn. Some people believed that Throckmorton had put Leicester up to the pretence of an affair in order to discover whether or not Elizabeth was serious in her intent to marry him. If not, then Throckmorton hoped to secure Leicester's support for the Habsburg marriage.
If this was true, it provoked only an adverse reaction for, in retaliation, a jealous Elizabeth began to show especial favour to one of Leicester's friends, Thomas Heneage, who had been a Gentleman of the Privy Chamber since 1560, and who was safely married. 'A young man of pleasant wit and bearing', who 'for his elegance of life and pleasantness of discourse [had been] born as it were for the court'. He was no intellectual or political lightweight either, since his talents eventually won him the important Household offices of Treasurer of the Chamber and, much later, Vice Chamberlain.
Leicester was angry at the attention shown to Heneage, and there were clashes between the two men. Then Leicester added fuel to the fire by asking permission 'to go to stay at my own place as other men'. Elizabeth refused to answer him, and sulked for three days. Then she summoned him to Windsor, where a violent quarrel took place, with Leicester accusing her of casting him aside for another, and Elizabeth flinging the same complaint back at him and declaring she was sorry for the time she had wasted on him - 'And so is every good subject!' commented Cecil to a friend. 'The Queen was in a great temper, and upbraided him with what had taken place with Heneage, and his flirting with the Viscountess, in very bitter words.'
She was also angry at reports that he had been high-handed with one of her servants, and publicly, before the whole court, she shouted at Leicester, 'God's death, my Lord, I have wished you well, but my favour is not so locked up for you that others shall not participate thereof. And if you think to rule here, I will take a course to see you forthcoming. I will have but one mistress and no master.' According to Sir Robert Naunton, who wrote a memoir of Elizabeth's court and recorded the incident, this 'so quailed my Lord of Leicester that his feigned humility was, long after, one of his best virtues'.
Suitably admonished, Leicester shut himself in his apartments for the next few days, whilst Heneage was sent quietly from the court. Then, against their better judgements, Cecil and Sussex persuaded the Queen and Leicester to make it up. Elizabeth summoned him to her presence and, both weeping, they were reconciled.
For Leicester, however, it was the end of an era in his life. His relationship with the Queen was changing: the heady passion of first love had gone, and with it his conviction that she would indeed eventually marry him. From now on, he would still love her, but it would come to be a deeper, more selfless love, almost like that of a long- wedded husband for his wife: a love, moreover, that would permit him to look elsewhere for the fulfilment he could not find with her.
Dudley's flirtation with Lettice soon fizzled out, but Heneage returned to Windsor: the Queen never could resist male admiration, and thereafter she continued to show him marked favour. Only when her interest had cooled into friendship did the Earl and Heneage become friends.
Heneage was not the only handsome man to captivate Elizabeth that summer. When her distant cousin, Thomas Butler, 10th Earl of Ormonde and Lord Treasurer of Ireland, visited court, she began singling him out. 'Black Tom', as he was known, was of an age with her, and had been reared at her father's court, where she may originally have become acquainted with him. He was attractive and admiring, and was often in her company during the next year. Leicester, however, knew there was nothing in it, and when the Archbishop of York dared to admonish the Queen for her friendship with Ormonde - provoking an outburst of Tudor temper - the Earl took her part.
Whilst she was at Windsor, the Queen spent most of her time riding and hunting. De Silva noted that she 'went so hard that she tired everybody out, and as for the ladies and courtiers who were with her, they were all put to shame. There was more work than pleasure in it for them.'
It was at Windsor also that, as Elizabeth strolled in the park with de Silva and an Italian envoy, the former, weary of her constant demands that the Archduke come and visit her, teased her by asking if she had noticed anyone she had not seen before in his own suite or that of the Imperial ambassador. Was she entertaining more than she knew?
The Queen was startled - and panic-stricken. At a loss for words, she searched frantically among the faces of the men following de Silva and was so obviously nonplussed that the ambasador burst out laughing. Elizabeth conceded the joke, calmed down, then announced that it might be no bad idea for the Archduke to visit her in such a way, if his dignity would allow it.
'I promise you plenty of princes have come to see me in that manner,' she divulged mysteriously.
After the Mary Grey affair, it seemed more imperative than ever that the Queen get herself an heir. On 14 August, Zwetkovich was sent home with a letter from the Queen to the Emperor, containing 'an honourable answer'. Zwetkovich was confident of a happy outcome, and Cecil had persuaded himself that 'the Queen's Majesty, thanked be God, is well- disposed towards marriage'. In a letter to Sir Thomas Smith in Paris, he reported, 'Common opinion is that the Archduke Charles will come, which - if he do and will accord with us in religion, and shall be allowable for his person to Her Majesty - then we shall see some success.'
He was dismayed therefore to learn that Philip of Spain was now doing his best to halt the negotiations on the grounds that the Archduke could not possibly marry a heretic queen. De Silva's opinion was that Elizabeth had no intention of marrying Charles anyway, maintaining that 'if any marriage at all is to result from all this, it will be Leicester's'.
Philip had already decided that he himself should be the instrument through which England should be returned to the Catholic fold, but the time was not yet right for fulfilling that sacred duty. In Philip's opinion, Mary, Queen of Scots was 'the sole gate through which religion can be restored in England; all the rest are closed'. This did not mean that he advocated the deposition of Elizabeth, which would be a scheme fraught with dangers. It would be far better, he believed, if Mary waited patiently until her peaceful succession to the English crown could be secured.
Moray and his rebel lords had retreated to Glasgow, whither Mary marched at the head of an army to capture them. On 6 October, the rebels fled to England, hoping to be succoured by Elizabeth. When she received Moray, she wore black, kept him on his knees, and castigated him publicly for rebelling against his anointed sovereign: 'We will not maintain any subject in any disobedience against the prince, for we know that Almighty God might justly recompense us with the like trouble in our own realm.' As for aid, none was to be forthcoming, although Moray might remain as an exile in England. When, in what became known as the 'Chaseabout Raid', Mary sent her troops to hunt any rebels out of Scotland, Elizabeth, who preferred peace to war, lifted no finger to help Moray, and Mary emerged victorious.
It was, however, an empty victory. The unruly Scots lords were proving difficult to control, Darnley was frequently drunk and, in the words of a courtier, 'wilful, haughty and vicious', and had been involved in street brawls in Edinburgh. Randolph reported that he was 'of an insolent, imperious nature, and thinks that he is never sufficiently honoured'. Mary's infatuation had died, and there were bitter 'jars' (quarrels) between the young couple. Whereas before Mary had turned to Maitland for advice, she now leaned upon her secretary, Rizzio. 'Seigneur Davie', as her courtiers sneeringly referred to him, was a native of Piedmont and had first come to her court in the train of the Savoyard ambassador in 1561. Mary had noticed his fine bass voice and had persuaded him to stay at her court as part of a vocal quartet. Later, she had made him her French secretary, and he had become friendly with Darnley. By June 1565, according to Randolph, Rizzio was 'he that works all'.
Now, however, Darnley grew resentful as he saw Rizzio's influence increasing daily and the Queen showing more and more favour to the man he regarded as an upstart Italian. In addition, those who craved favours or patronage from Mary had to bribe Rizzio in order to obtain an audience. Had he been a great nobleman, this would have been acceptable, but he was not, and he soon became the object of general hatred, derision and resentment. The Queen, miserable in her marriage and drawn to the lively Rizzio's company, failed to perceive that there was trouble brewing and that her ill-considered favouritism had caused it.
The exiled Protestant lords, however, summed up the situation very clearly, and resolved to return to Scotland with the aim of crushing Rizzio - and Darnley, too, if they were lucky. They had an ally in Maitland, who was jealous of the Italian who had supplanted him in the Queen's counsels, and even in Darnley himself, who was jealous for different reasons: he believed his wife to be having an affair with Rizzio, and the rebel lords were happy to let him think so. Darnley's resentment was festering because he had not been given the power he claimed was rightfully his, and also because Mary would not even discuss state affairs with him.
In December, it was announced that Queen Mary was pregnant. Her marriage was nevertheless a sham, since both partners avoided each other's company as often as possible. Darnley enjoyed himself, mostly at the hunt, whilst Mary attended to matters of state. And if she was lonely or needed someone to divert her, Rizzio was always there.