The Marriage Game: A Novel of Elizabeth I by Weir Alison

Author:Weir, Alison [Weir, Alison]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781448184217
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2014-06-25T23:00:00+00:00

1566

In the name of friendship, King Charles had graciously decided to bestow the Order of St Michael – France’s highest order of chivalry – upon two of Elizabeth’s subjects, the choice to be hers. She named Leicester and Norfolk – Leicester because she needed once more to placate him for her failure to name the day, and Norfolk to pre-empt any jealousy. She need not have bothered. Norfolk was so resentful of Leicester receiving the honour that it took all her powers of persuasion to stop him from boycotting the investiture.

Robert was – almost – certain that the ceremony was a prelude to the announcement of his forthcoming marriage to the Queen. But Candlemas came and departed without Elizabeth mentioning marriage at all, let alone making a proclamation.

‘How many more times will you break your word?’ he raged.

Elizabeth sighed. ‘Robin, be patient, just for a little longer. This is a delicate time in regard to foreign negotiations. And to please me, pretend to support the Habsburg marriage.’

‘Very well,’ he flung back. ‘Marry the Archduke, for the sake of your realm. Don’t worry about me.’

‘I commend you for your selflessness,’ she said, deliberately ignoring his sarcasm.

He could not believe it when, later that day, he saw her brazenly flirting, in full sight of himself, with the gallant Earl of Ormond. It was too much. After another violent quarrel, heated sufficiently, it seemed, to make the very walls combust, he left court.

He had had enough, he told himself, as he rode furiously to his house at Kew. He was weary of strife and the intrigues of the court, and Elizabeth’s endless, tortuous games. He was sick of being blamed for her failure to marry, even though he had urged her to do so countless times. Everyone marked his failings, never his better qualities.

Cecil wrote to him, as did Throckmorton. Feeling genuinely sorry for him, and concerned that the only really viable husband for the Queen was out of her sight, and possibly – this was even more worrying – out of her mind, they kept him updated on state affairs. Robert wrote to Cecil that he despaired of Elizabeth ever marrying, and was taken aback to read that she was still in a vile mood, and that, if he took Cecil’s advice, he would stay away from court, lest he incur any more blame. When he thought about it, in truth he was glad to do so.

The trees were in bud, and a light March breeze was in the air when Cecil brought Elizabeth a letter bearing the Queen of Scots’ seal. She read it with mounting horror.

‘God’s death!’ she swore. ‘Rizzio has been murdered.’

According to Mary, Darnley and many of the lords who had once opposed him had burst in upon her as she was having supper with Rizzio and a few friends. There had been an unseemly brawl, with Mary’s very life being threatened. One conspirator had even rammed a chair into her belly – and she six months gone with child.

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