Roses Have Thorns: A Novel of Elizabeth I Read online

  I waited until morning to approach Princess Cecelia. There were agents at Bedford House carrying off items that might be sold to partially pay for the margrave’s debts; it was humiliating, and most Swedes kept quietly to their chambers, packing for the journey home.

  “I have spoken with the queen, at her command, and she has offered me a position with her ladies until I can soon marry Lord Northampton,” I said. “If you will allow it.”

  She abruptly stood up. “No, no, I will not allow it. It is utterly traitorous when this realm has stolen from your own crown and refused to treat me with honor. Do you think you will be well looked upon after we leave? Indeed not. These people do not care for any but themselves. You will always be an unwelcome foreigner among strange people, and they will not hold faith with you. Mark me in this.”

  I stood before her, head bowed. I had not thought of it before, that I would be utterly alone, so taken was I with the idea of marrying Lord Northampton.

  “You saw what the journey here was like; none is likely to undertake that again. There will be no way for you to return to Sweden.” She sat down again; in the distance I could hear someone quieting the wailing Edward Fortunatus.

  “I understand, my lady,” I said. With so much money owed, it was unlikely anyone would return from Sweden to England in my lifetime. “I am sorry this journey did not bring you the happiness with the queen you had hoped it would.”

  At that, she heaved a heavy breath. “The queen is by no means who I understood her to be. She is unkind, she is selfish, she is vicious. Do you know that she has kept her cousin Katherine Seymour in exile for nigh on six years, and she with two young sons, for marrying a man the queen did not approve of? I think, mayhap, it is the sons and the husband the queen covets and not the protection of her honor and law.”

  I took a deep breath before speaking. “I did not know that.”

  “Katherine’s sister Mary Grey is now likewise detained, a young woman who is”—she pointed at her temple—“not complete. Hardly a threat.”

  A bit of dismay must have crossed my face because Princess Cecelia smiled for the first time in our conversation, but wickedly. “Perhaps this queen is not all you understand her to be, either. So stay, stay if you insist. I give my permission. But by the time you figure out who this queen really is inside, my dearest Elin, it will be too late.”

  She dismissed me with a wave of her hand and went back to directing those who were helping her pack her considerable number of trunks and coffins.

  • • •

  Within two weeks the entire Swedish delegation had packed and was leaving Bedford House. I had told William that I would remain there to see them off, and he promised to send a litter for me and my things later that afternoon. I said good-bye to the ladies one by one, feeling especially torn to be parting from Christina Abrahamsdotter and Bridget.

  Bridget and I held one another’s hand until she needed to get into a litter to depart. “I shall miss you desperately,” I said. I did not want to let go of her hand. Had I made a grave error? If so, it was not too late to join them for the return journey. I was homesick already. I might never see Sweden again, nor hear my native tongue spoken, kiss my mother good night, or eat of the small strawberries Brita and I collected each June on the hillside near our summer home.

  “You’ve rightly chosen,” Bridget reminded me, seeing, I supposed, the fear cross my face. “Karin and Philip are likely already married. And William loves you well.”

  I nodded. “Write to me.” She agreed, and I kissed her on the hairline.

  The princess came up to me and I curtseyed before her one last time. “Thank you, my lady, for everything you have done for me,” I said, voice trembling.

  She nodded, holding her head erect, and then began to walk away. Before she’d taken more than three steps, though, she turned back to me and spoke with no trace of kindness. “Lord Northampton won’t marry you. He can’t. He’s already married.”

  FOUR

  Spring and Summer: Year of Our Lord 1566

  The Palace of Whitehall

  Windsor Palace

  On Progress

  Year of Our Lord 1567

  The Palace of Whitehall

  Windsor Palace

  Stanstead Hall, London

  What did she mean? She was telling the truth, of that I was certain. I had made a mistake. A terrible mistake. It took all of my strength not to race after them, gown held in my hand, as they departed Bedford House. Instead, I paced the great hall and wandered outside from time to time to see if William approached. He arrived several hours after the delegation left; he rode a fine horse, as all in his stable were, and had a manservant ride another one for me. Another set of horses conveyed a litter for my belongings, such that they were. They were so few that, had it not been beneath his station, we could have carried them in saddlebags instead. The day’s cool mist mingled with hot tears to blur my view of his face as he drew near.

  He greeted me with kisses but then withdrew. “What is it?” he asked.

  I was not yet a practiced dissembler, though I had come to believe ’twas a skill I must learn. “Come to the great hall,” I said. “The fire is still warm and we can talk there.” I led him in by the hand and we took our seats.

  “Have they gone?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Yes, they have. And on the way out, the princess took care to share a most distressing thought with me, one that I, of course, do not believe but must ask you.”

  He shifted his body and his gaze away from me. My heart fell. I knew before I even asked him that it was true. “She says you are married. I know this cannot possibly be true because you told me yourself that your wife died one year ago, last April.”

  He took my hands in his own. Although they were smooth and well groomed, they were also a bit frail. I became aware, perhaps for the first time, of the chasm of years between us. Thirty.

  “I promise you that I have been honest, but perhaps not complete,” he said. “First, I would have you know that King Henry, the queen’s father, called me his integrity, his incorruptibility. It was true then, and it’s true now. If I can be trusted to be forthright with my sovereign—and I can—how much more will I be with you, my own true love?”

  I softened then. “Yes, I believe you.”

  “My belief,” he said, “is ‘love does no wrong.’ ”

  “But . . .” I sensed there was more.

  “I have a wife. Of sorts.”

  I forced myself to breathe, uncomfortably aware that the Swedes were too far gone for me to catch up with them now, had I willed it.

  He went on to explain that he had been married young, at his mother’s urging, to a great heiress. They were both children at the time, so they did not live together for twelve more years. Within a short time, his wife left him for another man, with whom she bore children.

  “According to the Scriptures, I was free to remarry,” he said. “And after . . . courting . . . some women, I came to know Elisabeth Brooke, and with her faithfully spent twenty-two years, until her death. Parliament had declared my first marriage void; I wed Elisabeth in all honor and rightness.”

  “And so?” I asked.

  “Queen Mary declared my first marriage valid, and my second null, and imprisoned me in the Tower for treason, as you knew. When that queen died, there came a new government, which declared my marriage to Elisabeth valid. She, of course, died. But the current government is not sure but that there is a cloud over my marriage. My first wife still lives, and as the marriage has been valid and void, valid and void, there is some confusion.”

  “I see,” I said. I dwelt in the silence for a moment before speaking. “Neither my faith nor my honor will permit me to live with you as husband and wife while unmarried.”

  He nodded and spoke softly. “I would not have it otherwise. I had thought to have this righted by now, but it is not. I understand the queen has offered you a position among her ladies.”

  “Yes,” I said.
“I hadn’t understood then why.” I did not look at him but at my hands. I heard the queen’s birds singing mournfully in the distance. “What shall become of me?”

  He drew near to me, and I leaned into him. “It shall be quick work to make right. And then we will marry and you will be mistress of all my property as you are now of my heart. Meanwhile, I shall see that you want for naught while at court or in my homes.”

  We rode to the palace, which gave me time to think. I trusted him implicitly, and yet he hadn’t told me of this while I still had the chance to change my mind. Perhaps it was an oversight, and, truth be told, I wouldn’t have changed my mind anyway. I was aware anew, though, of how vulnerable I was. I was in a strange land with no family to protect me or my interests. The queen had seemed pleased with me, but I knew as well as any how fickle royal favor could be.

  We arrived at court, and William promised to be back within a few days. I felt alone, nervous, and perhaps somewhat abandoned as I watched him ride away. He had his own quarters at all of the queen’s residences, of course, so we would see one another often. But I would also have duties waiting upon the queen. William had told me that it had been but a year since Kat Ashley, the woman who had raised the queen, had died. Since then, Blanche Parry, who had also been with the queen since childhood, had become the queen’s “mother at heart,” and she was very motherly indeed. Her Majesty had asked Mistress Parry to see that I had everything I needed.

  “Her Grace has given you apartments near her own lodgings,” she said, showing me to a small suite of well-appointed rooms close upon the Royal Suite, and with an enchanting view. She lowered her voice. “The other maids of honor share chambers and maids, so it’s a singular honor that you’ll have your own rooms, a lady maid and servants, and a horse of your own. You are also excluded from the sumptuary laws, so you may dress in a manner which will befit accompanying Lord Northampton.”

  “Oh, thank the queen for me, please,” I said. “I am overcome.”

  “You can thank her yourself, Elin.”

  “Helena, please,” I said. “I am an Englishwoman now. My name is Helena.”

  • • •

  I soon learned the queen’s daily routine and my part in it. We ladies were never to interfere in her politics or her court. At first I was downhearted about that, thinking that though I loved cards and games and needlework and horses, exercising my mind and my mouth was more to my pleasure. I soon learned, though, that the ladies had considerable power to influence, often heard Her Majesty’s speeches well ahead of the men as she practiced them in her chambers, and were able to persuade effectively by softer manner. The queen was never alone; we ladies trailed her, like purebred spaniels might trail a lesser woman, no matter where she went. She loved us well, though, and although it was always clear that she was the mistress, it was often clear that she was our loving friend as well.

  The queen began her day with six or seven galliards, for exercise, and we ladies were expected to dance along with her. If she chose not to dance, she and we oft took a quick walk in the gardens. She said she was no morning woman but she was always back at her rooms very early to attend to her devotions and then to her correspondence. After we dressed her, her counselors came to see her in her Presence or Privy Chamber. She attended to paperwork for a while, then walked in a garden or a gallery with her ladies or Lord Robert. Afterward, she might ride in open carriage, so her people could see her, to a nearby park to hawk or hunt, often with Lord Robert, her Master of Horse.

  When she was with him, the breath of life was breathed into her. Bliss.

  William had provided my lady maid at his own expense. Although the queen had offered to provide one, she was glad to save the cost and William told me, quietly, that it would be better if he provided her for me.

  “If I hire her, she knows that she is to carry out what I tell her to do as her primary responsibility. I’ve told her to answer any questions you may ask that would assist you to understand court, or England, our history, and the courtiers. She was educated somewhat before her family fell upon difficulties and she has served in noble households, so she will be a source of knowledge for you.”

  I kissed his cheek. “Thank you, dearest William, for thinking of things I might not have even considered.”

  My first difficulty arose within the first few days after I moved in. I asked Clemence, my lady maid, if she could arrange for a large urn of hot water and an empty one, too, to be delivered each evening.

  “Of course, my lady, but if I may ask, why?”

  “To bathe!” I said. This had not been a problem at Bedford House, occupied as it were by Swedes, but I had noticed since coming to court that the English did not all hearken to the northern habit of daily baths.

  Clemence, bless her, did as I asked, and each night I bathed in water that I scented with my own herbal preparations, oftentimes rose but also marjoram. The Queen’s Majesty called me to her.

  “Lady Helena,” she said, clearly pleased by the Anglicization of my name, “you always smell sweet and there is a fresh air about you. Why is that?”

  “Swedes bathe daily, Your Majesty, in scented water, and I have continued that custom though I am now an Englishwoman.”

  She nodded approvingly. The queen was known to have a sensitive sense of smell; even the leather her books were bound with was not to be cured with anything pungent. From that day on I became one of the queen’s bed warmers. At night, before Her Majesty retired to her bed, one of her ladies climbed into the royal bed to warm the linens that Blanche had keep over; then the maid of honor left the bed just before Her Majesty climbed in. That lady usually spent the night sleeping on a small bed at the foot of Her Majesty’s great one. I didn’t mind. There were always two or three ladies in Her Majesty’s chamber, day or night, to protect and assist her as well as defend against malicious gossip.

  One night, after the torches were snuffed in the bedchamber and Squires of the Body quietly prowled the hallways to keep watch for her security, Her Majesty was abed, with only me and Mary Radcliffe, another of her maids of honor, in the room, and she spoke quietly. “Lady von Snakenborg?”

  “Yes, Majesty?” I said sleepily from the trundled bed at the foot of her bed of state.

  “I prefer the marjoram-scented water you bathed in this evening. It leaves a soothing scent upon my linens and I believe I shall sleep most soundly.”

  “If it pleases Your Majesty, I shall ensure to use it each time I am called to serve you in this manner,” I said.

  Mary Radcliffe had had nary a word for me before that, but that night she sent a smile in my direction, visible by moonlight. The next day, I asked Blanche Parry if I might ask Mrs. Morgaynne, who was the queen’s apothecary, for some essence of marjoram to add to my own store of herbs and essences. “I shall sprinkle some upon Her Majesty’s linens each night whether or not it’s my turn to warm the bed.” Blanche Parry readily agreed.

  There was no comfortable rest to be found in the week after, as we waited upon her in her Privy Chamber, where she was haranguing some of her councilors ahead of her presentation to Parliament. “Though I be a woman, yet I have as good a courage, answerable to my place, as ever my father had,” she scolded them all.

  “Majesty,” Lord Robert began, “Mr. Molyneux has suggested that the money you have requested should be given only upon the contingency that Your Grace makes a declaration about your successor. This motion was very well approved by the greater part of the House!”

  “It would be wise to consider it, Your Highness,” William said softly. “They mean it for your good, and the good of the realm. They want a successor named.”

  “Was I not born in the realm? Were my parents born in any foreign country?” she demanded. “Is there any cause I should alienate myself from being careful over this country? Is not my kingdom here? Whom have I oppressed? How have I governed since my reign began?”

  She sat down upon her chair of state, her stomacher pressing into her, bosom heaving.
“I will marry as soon as I can conveniently. And as to the succession—I stood in danger of my life, my sister was so incensed against me. I did differ from her in religion, and for that I was sought for diverse ways from plotters and overthrowers. So I shall never name my successor, who may will to unseat me!”

  She calmed and continued. “Some would speak for their master, some for their mistress, and every man for his friend. But my very life would become a target. Men foment about the second when the second is known. I know this better than any in the realm. As your prince and head, we must be left to judge the timing of the move, without prompting from our subjects. For it is monstrous that the feet should direct the head.”

  No reassurance was forthcoming from those “feet” she trusted most. She waved to silence Cecil, her secretary of state and most trusted principal advisor, who’d begun to speak, then turned to my marquess. “Northampton,” she said to my great horror, “methinks you had better talk about the arguments used to enable you to get married again, to yon lady”—she looked toward me— “when you have a wife living, instead of mincing words with us.”

  She rounded toward Lord Robert and said, “We had thought that if all the world abandoned us, you would not have done so.”

  “I am ready to die at your feet, madam!” Lord Robert protested. He, more than any, would press her to marriage. With himself, if it could be!

  “That has nothing to do with the matter.”

  She loudly banned them entrance to the Presence Chamber and stormed off, calling for the comfort, of all persons, of the Spanish ambassador. We ladies, of course, said nothing at all, as was our place, but quietly slipped down the corridor.

  • • •

  By June the storm seemed to have lifted and the queen was dancing and making merry after dinner when Cecil took her aside and whispered something in her ear. Her face, normally pale, waxed into a death mask. She left the room immediately, and we ladies followed her.

  She dismissed all but Lady Knollys, Blanche, Anne Russell Dudley, Mary Radcliffe, and myself.