Читать интересную книгу The Murder in the Tower: The Story of Frances, Countess of Essex - Jean Plaidy

“Your Majesty, I feel sure that she will not be allowed to reach France. We shall capture her and bring her back.”

“Ye’re a great comforter, boy. But this is how the plots begin. I dream about them, Robbie. I dream they’re stacking gunpowder in the cellars again; and that those who wish me out of the way, as the Ruthvens once did, will be putting their heads together. I’ve had luck so far, Rob. It wouldn’t be logical to expect it to go on.”

James was thinking of the ministers of his own Parliament who had recently spoken against him. What were they planning? Wouldn’t they seize an opportunity to rally to Arabella; even if the girl did not wish to start a war, they’d make her; she would be a good figurehead. And who could say how ambitious Will Seymour was?

It was a mistake perhaps to have taken her from Sir Thomas Parry with whom he had lodged her when she had disobeyed him by her marriage. She must have been desperate when she heard that she was to go to Durham to be in the care of the Bishop there. She had fretted and her health had suffered so that on the way north she had seemed to become seriously ill and had had to rest at Barnet. Now James saw that that was very likely a trick.

She must have had friends who helped her; she could never have escaped if she had not. Where would she have found French-fashioned hose, and a man’s doublet? They must have been found for her; and she, while he believed her to be sick, had dressed herself in these, added a man’s peruke, a black hat and cloak—not forgetting a sword—and had, in the company of some of her friends, slipped away. She had reached the Thames, where she boarded a waiting vessel and was taken to a French ship which was lying in readiness for her.

This was not all. At the same time William Seymour, also wearing a peruke and a false beard, had walked out of his prison in the Tower down to the river where a boat was waiting for him.

How could this have been done, demanded James, if the pair of them had not possessed friends to help them?

“But mark ye this,” added the King. “Luck has not gone with them all the way, for I am informed that by the time Will Seymour made his escape, the French ship had already left with the Lady Arabella, fearing to wait longer. Where Seymour is we do not know, but we’ll find him. And when these birds are once more my captives, there shall be such a cage made for them that they will never fly away again.”

James’s fears were soon diminished. Before her ship touched the shores of France it was overtaken by its swift pursuer, and Lady Arabella was brought back to England.

“Take the Lady to the Tower,” said James. “And this time make sure that she is well guarded. And what of Will Seymour?”

There was no news of Will Seymour for some weeks; and then the rumor came to the Court that he had safely reached France and was sheltering there.

James was uneasy. He would have many a nightmare about that young man. It was good that Arabella was in safe custody, but plots would go on doubtless while Seymour was free.

In her cell Lady Arabella wept bitterly for the ill fortune which was hers. She did not wish to wear the crown of England; she only wanted to live in peace with her husband.

She prayed that he might stay safe in France and that at some time she would be able to join him.

Ready to catch at every hope, she thought of Robert Carr who had seemed to her a kindly man, and had so great an influence with the King.

She took up her pen and wrote to him, imploring him to plead her cause with the King; she begged him to consider her sorry plight, and signed herself the most sorrowful creature living.

Robert was distressed when he read the letter. He had only a casual acquaintance with the Lady Arabella but he had always believed her to be a gentle, harmless lady.

He wanted to plead for her with the King, but first he discussed the matter with Tom Overbury.

“There is nothing you can do,” his friend told him. “Why even I, to whom the King has scarcely spoken, know how he fears plots. He is in terror of the assassin’s knife or the hidden gunpowder. No, Robert, don’t be a fool. Your strength lies in your ability to make the King feel comfortable. He wouldn’t if you pleaded for Arabella. You may think you can risk offending James. Don’t be too sure of that, Robert. Always remember that there are other handsome men waiting to spring into your place. Say nothing of this.”

As usual Robert took his friend’s advice. So Lady Arabella continued to languish in the Tower—a melancholy prisoner who had committed no crime—except of course that of belonging to a branch of the royal family. All she asked was to be able to live quietly with her husband, somewhere in the country if need be, well away from Court intrigue.

Alas, for Arabella.

In the upper chamber of the Bloody Tower, Sir Walter was showing Prince Henry plans for a journey he was hoping to make.

Rarely had Henry seen Raleigh looking so well; and he thought: If he could only regain his freedom he would be as full of vigor as he ever was.

“Do you know,” he was saying, “I really believe this time I shall not be disappointed. I said: Let me serve as a guide in this expedition and if I do not lead the way to a mountain of gold and silver, let the commander have commission, to cut off my head there and then.”

“You seem very sure of finding treasure, Walter.”

Raleigh laughed. “Ah, my Prince. It will be a gamble.”

“You’d gamble your head!”

“And day, for my freedom.”

“I shall pray for your success.” Henry’s eyes lit up. “Do you think I might come with you?”

“Not for a moment, my dear friend. The heir to the throne would never be allowed to risk his life.”

“If I could make my own decisions I should come.”

“When the time comes for you to make your own decisions, your duty will lie here, and not in Orinoco.”

“None will rejoice more than I on the day you return in triumph; and Walter, when I am King everything that you have suffered shall be made up for … a hundredfold.”

Raleigh patted the young man’s hand.

“I shall serve you with my life, my King.”

Henry, feeling too emotional for comfort, hastily changed the subject. “You have heard of course that there is a move to marry Elizabeth to the Prince of Piedmont.”

“I have heard.” Raleigh shook his head. “I should not care to see our Princess married to the son of the Duke of Savoy; and I hear there is another project.”

“That I should marry his daughter. What think you of this match?”

“It does not please me.”

“Then do not hesitate to speak of your objections.”

“I shall not.”

“There has been a suggestion that Elizabeth should marry the King of Spain. As you know there are many secret Catholics at Court, in spite of the moves my father has made against them; and I believe that some of his ministers are in the pay of Spain. I should protest strongly against a Catholic marriage for my sister, and so would she.”

“A great deal depends on Salisbury’s attitude.”

“His desire is for closer alliance with the Princess of the German Protestant union, and the young Elector Palatine is looking for a bride.”

“And Elizabeth, what does she feel?”

“Poor Elizabeth. She is not very old, you know. It is a sad fate which befalls our Princesses. They must marry and go into a strange land. At least that is a fate which we avoid.”

“You are very fond of your sister, and you will suffer from the parting.”

“I shall come to you more often and expect you to comfort me. But perhaps by then you will be on the way to Orinoco. Who can tell?”

Henry saw the far-away look in his friend’s eyes, and knew that he was already picturing himself on the high seas.

He is longing to set sail, thought Henry. And when he goes I shall have lost him for a while; and if ill should befall him, perhaps for ever. And if Elizabeth marries and goes away, I shall have lost her too.

There was one other he had lost.

He thought of her occasionally and then he was aware of a nostalgia for the days of his innocence. He had never replaced Frances, having no further wish for a mistress. She could still make him sad. He had believed her to be perfect and his ideal had been shattered on the day when he had learned that Carr was also her lover.

There in the upper chamber of the Bloody Tower he felt a desire never to grow up, if doing so meant that he must lose that which, in innocence, he had cherished.

With the coming of the summer there was much activity at Court on account of the Princess Elizabeth, while one faction worked for a Catholic marriage and another was in favor of the German match.

Northampton, secretly in the pay of Spain, having made a friend of Robert Carr, sought to carry him along with him. On the other hand Prince Henry and his sister were fiercely against a Catholic marriage.

Henry, who loved his sister more devotedly than he loved anyone else, was convinced that she could be happier with a man of her own faith; she too shared his opinion.

The antagonism between Robert Carr and the Prince of Wales intensified, although Robert’s pleasant easy-going nature made an open breach difficult. He rarely took offense and was always deferential in his manner to the Prince, but Henry hated the man; whenever he saw him, he pictured him making love to Frances, who, now chafing against life at Chartley, would have felt some comfort to know that she was not forgotten at Court.

Tom Overbury was constantly watching his friend’s enemies; and there were two who gave him great cause for alarm. One was the Prince of Wales; the other, Lord Salisbury. But Lord Salisbury was an old man and of late had shown signs of failing health; and Overbury had secret ambitions which he hoped to see fulfilled when the old man died. To whom would fall the Secretaryship and the Treasury? Why not to Robert Carr?

Perhaps this was hoping for too much? But Robert—with Overbury working in the background—would be capable of holding these offices.

Overbury was growing more and more excited during these months.

Salisbury eventually succeeded in making the King see the advantages of the German marriage, and the Princess Elizabeth was formally plighted to the Elector Palatine, Frederick V.

This was in a way a defeat for Northampton of whom Robert Carr had made a friend, and Overbury was dismayed because such a matter was enough to set courtiers asking: Is the favorite losing his influence with the King?

Robert himself maintained his serene attitude and never betrayed by a look or word that he was disconcerted. This was the quality which so endeared him to the King. He always gave the impression that he was at the King’s side to carry out his wishes, not to intrude with his own.

Then Salisbury went off to Bath so see if the waters could relieve him, and the Prince of Wales gave himself up to the pleasure of planning the coming visit to England of his sister’s suitor.

Robert sought out Overbury, and it was clear that he was excited.

“News, Tom, which will be on everyone’s lips ere long. Salisbury is dead.”

Overbury was open-mouthed with astonishment, while slowly a look of delight spread across his face.

“Is it indeed true?”

“I have just had it from the King himself. Salisbury left Bath feeling that no good could come of his stay there. The journey home was too exhausting for him. He reached Marlborough, and there died. The King is mourning his Little Beagle. He says it will be long before we see a statesman of his brilliance.”

“We shall not share in the King’s mourning.”

“I had an admiration for the little fellow.”

“He was too clever for us. That’s why I am rejoicing that he is no longer here. Do you know that your Little Beagle put more obstacles in your way than the Prince of Wales ever did.”

“He didn’t think me worthy of the great posts and he was right.”

Overbury’s lips tightened. “I tell you this, Robert: with me behind you, you are worthy of any post the King could give you. Now we must be careful. We must tread cautiously. They’ll all be clamoring round now the Beagle’s gone. If you’re ever going to be number one in this kingdom, now is your chance.”

“Listen, Tom—”

“No, you listen to me. You’re going to have the offices Salisbury has vacated. You have to, Robert. There’s no standing still for you. It’s go on or fall out. I know and I’m telling you.”

Robert knew his friend was right, because he always had been. Therefore he must accept his guidance.

James looked on with cynical eyes while those about him jostled each other for the dead man’s shoes. There was not one of them who would match up to Little Beagle; James would miss Pigmy, but at the same time he was determined not to set up another in his place.

He had made up his mind what he was going to do. Robert Carr was the one who should benefit by the death of Salisbury; Beagle had been unfair to Robbie. Small wonder. The poor ill-favored creature must have been jealous of one who was singularly blessed with good looks.

Robert would be the ideal Secretary because he would always do what his master wanted. He would not have the title; that would cause too much of an outcry. He, James, would have a chance to put in action that policy which he had always favored: the Divine Right of Kings to act as they thought best.

Robbie should be the Secretary; he had become a genius with the pen and could always be relied upon to work along the lines his royal master suggested.

As the weeks passed it became apparent that Robert Carr was the most powerful man in the country under the King.

It was what many had suspected would happen, and some had feared.

But there were others who looked on jubilantly.

Among these was Thomas Overbury who saw himself as the secret ruler of Britain; another was the Earl of Northampton, Lord Privy Seal, who had decided to court Robert Carr that they might work together to further Northampton’s ends.

The Prince of Wales threw himself wholeheartedly into the preparations for his sister’s marriage. He had convinced her that she was fortunate to have escaped a Catholic match; and because she had always followed him in everything she did, she believed him.

As the summer months were passing the excitement grew. Elizabeth was busy being fitted for new gowns, examining jewels which would be hers. She had received a picture of the Elector Palatine; his looks enchanted her, and she kept this near her bed, each day declaring that she was a little more in love with him.

One day Henry said to her: “I think I shall come to Germany with you when you leave with your husband. Perhaps I shall find a bride there.”

“Then I should be completely happy, for Henry, there is one thing about my marriage that alarms me: leaving my family. I shall sadly miss our parents and Charles; but you and I have always been closer than the others. I never had a friend like you, Henry. Sometimes I wish that I were not going to be married, for I do not see how I can ever be really happy if I am parted from you.”