Imagine if history had changed and Queen Elizabeth I had agreed to marry her favourite Robert Dudley?
It was summer in England. The hollow clunk of a leather ball against a sheep’s gut raquet could be heard in the gardens of Windsor Castle, and the nearby lawns were alive with screams of laughter as King Henry’s children, Edward and Elizabeth, played Blind man’s Buff with the Howard children. Robert Dudley and a pretty little girl with blond curls called Amy, had been invited along to join the party. Amy’s father, John Robstart was a favourite of the Howard children’s father, the Duke of Norfolk.
With arms outstretched, Elizabeth staggered around blindly, coppery ringlets escaping from beneath a white blindfold, whilst the others danced around her just out of reach. Suddenly she lunged forward and put her arms around one of the boys who began to giggle.
‘It’s you Rob. I know it’s you by your laugh.’ She ripped off her blindfold and they both rolled over on the grass helpless with laughter.
These were light hearted days for the young Elizabeth with her half sibling Edward and their friends. Royal duties were years away. In any case, once Edward became king it was unlikely that Elizabeth would inherit the throne. Now was the time for innocent childhood fun.
In 1547 King Henry died and Elizabeth’s half-brother Edward came to the throne. By this time Elizabeth had become very attached to Robert, who had grown up to be a very striking young man with dark wavy hair and a trim goatee beard, so it was a shock to her when Robert announced that he and Amy were to be married. Elizabeth wasn’t happy about their relationship at all but she had to be realistic. Robert wasn’t of royal blood so it was unlikely that she would have been allowed to marry him anyway. And Amy was many degrees beneath Dudley in the social hierarchy. So rather than make a fuss she acted with great decorum according to her royal status and decided to bide her time.
The wedding was a happy occasion. The bride and groom were both eighteen years old and obviously infatuated with each other. It took place at the Royal Palace of Sheen on 4th June 1550. The young King Edward was an honoured guest along with his half-sister Princess Elizabeth. There were gentle minuets, lively gavottes and games of Hide and Seek for the younger guests around the gardens. The Palace rang with music and laughter. Elizabeth chatted vivaciously with members of the court, but covertly she watched as Dudley flirted with his new wife.
‘Elizabeth is looking over here,’ whispered Amy. ‘I think you should go and ask her to dance, Robert.’
‘Are you sure, My Love?’ She nodded. ‘Well so be it.’ He gave his bride a quick kiss and went over to Elizabeth who was pretending not to notice him.
He bowed. ‘May I have the honour of this dance, Your Highness?’
As he led her onto the dance-floor she murmured, ‘I congratulate you, Robert Dudley. Amy is a pretty match.’ Whilst jealousy raged in her heart she was too clever to show it. She knew her Rob would soon tire of his pretty plaything and stray to pastures new. She could afford to wait until the fire had burnt itself out.
Elizabeth’s cousin Edward was young, but weak and sickly. In the year 1553 he came down with a dreadful fever which manifested itself in violent coughing and shows of bright red blood. Doctors were called, bringing leeches and poultices to ease his discomfort, but nothing helped. The illness proved to be terminal. As he died without an heir there were various claimants to the throne, and England was in a state of unrest for a while. Plots were rife and Elizabeth herself was confined to the Tower by her Catholic half-sister Mary, daughter of Katherine of Aragon. Eventually Elizabeth was crowned Queen but her life was in constant danger from those who wished her ill. She needed courtiers around her she could trust. Having known Dudley since childhood he was the perfect companion and advisor. He was loyal, smart and very attractive, and she trusted him implicitly, even confiding to her ladies in waiting that she would marry him if he were free, much to the frustration of her Secretary William Cecil, who had been a friend of her late father, Henry the VIII.
In order to keep him constantly by her side she made sure Dudley was given special duties. He was granted the prestigious job of organising Elizabeth’s coronation. Then, as a keen horseman, he was made Master of the Horse and accompanied her whenever she went out hunting in the royal parks. Later, because of his skill with languages, he became her Envoy travelling between England and Spain, holding talks with King Philip on her behalf. All this meant that Amy saw very little of her husband.
‘Surely you are able to spend a little more time with me,’ she complained on one of his rare visits to Cumnor Place. ‘It’s nigh on a year since you were here last.’
‘My dearest please be patient. I am kept busy with matters of state at her Majesty’s pleasure, but I shall try to get home shortly.’ Sadly he had no intention of playing the devoted husband, finding more to amuse him elsewhere.
And so it went on. Month after month Amy would wait to hear from her husband and month after month there was no sign of him. Meanwhile he was enjoying the attentions of various ladies of the court while making sure he kept Elizabeth sweet. Lonely and depressed Amy’s health deteriorated and her maid was concerned for her wellbeing.
‘The Mistress is sorely unhappy,’ she told her friend, Mary Scubbard, who was accompanying her to the local fair. ‘I fear she may do herself harm if her husband stays away much longer.’
‘Didn’t I also hear she had a disease of the breast?’ asked Mary. ‘Poor lady must be in great discomfort. It’s a shame he can’t attend her more.’
That night Amy was in such pain she rang for her maid to get her some laudanum. But the maid was sleeping so deeply after her long day out at the fair that she didn’t hear. In desperate need of relief Amy got up and stumbled out of her bed chamber into the dimly lit passageway to waken her. At the top of a short flight of steps leading down to her maid’s room, she felt a sudden dizzy spell. Tottering blindly she fell forward down the stairs.
Amy’s condition had become the subject of common gossip around Cumnor Place, so when her body was found the following day with a broken neck everyone assumed she had taken her own life. But there were different whisperings in Elizabeth’s court. It was common knowledge that Elizabeth favoured Dudley. She’d showered him with titles, Earl of Leicester, Knight of the Garter and even given him a castle in Kenilworth. On official state occasions he was allowed to act as official host. In every area except marriage he was the consort to the Queen. Their close relationship had been noted as far afield as Spain.
When King Philip’s Spanish advisers informed him of the elevation in Dudley’s status, they told him, ‘Lord Robert has come so much into favour that he does whatever he likes, and it is even said that Her Majesty visits him in his chamber day and night. Your Majesty would do well to attract him and confirm him in his friendship.’
Dudley’s influence upon Elizabeth was profound. And now that his wife was dead his enemies were quick to spread malicious rumours as to the cause of her death. When it was argued that he wasn’t present when it happened, some said that maybe he’d paid someone to push her down the stairs, and even worse, maybe Elizabeth herself was involved. Elizabeth couldn’t allow this gossip to continue.
The day before the inquest into Amy’s death, she called the Coroner to the Palace.
‘This death is a tragedy,’ she said. ‘I am told that the lady was in great distress with a savage disease of the breast that could only worsen in time. It seems to me that she has taken her own life in a fit of despair to relieve the agonising pain.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty. It certainly seems that way.’
‘I’m glad we agree. This business of Dudley arranging her death must be suppressed. It reflects badly on me as well as him. And to save the unhappy lady the dishonour of a suicide verdict I implore you to use your influence to bring about a verdict of accidental death.’
The Coroner bowed and withdrew. Some weeks later the verdict was announced. Accidental Death.
There have been various speculations about the death of Amy Robsart, amongst them that she was murdered by her husband so that he would be free to marry Elizabeth. But there was no evidence to support this theory. Some say that if he’d wanted to get rid of her he wouldn’t have chosen to push her down six steps and risk her survival. However in those days there was much jealousy surrounding Dudley’s relationship with Elizabeth, and suspicion remains to this day. However, Dudley might have been a poor husband but that doesn’t make him a murderer. He was also genuinely fond of his wife in spite of his philandering. On the other hand, he had become very attached to the power bestowed upon him by the Queen, and possibly hoped that he would one day be free to marry her.
In the meantime William Cecil, Elizabeth’s Private Secretary and close advisor, was pressing her to marry and produce an heir. Her sister Mary, who had been banished to Scotland, had already produced a male child, James, who Cecil saw as a dangerous claimant to the English throne. There were many offers of marriage, mainly from the Duke of Anjou who fancied himself as King of England, but Elizabeth declined them all except for Robert Dudley’s proposal. She had turned him down on numerous occasions since Amy’s death, not wanting to fan the flames of suspicion, however in 1556 the tide turned for Dudley.
One night on one of her clandestine visits to his bedchamber he got down on one knee and took her hand.
‘Elizabeth, you know I have long loved you. Would you at last do me the honour of being my wife?’
Elizabeth smiled and nodded. She was tired of their secret affair and wanted everyone to know about their love for one another. Robert couldn’t believe it. After all these years she’d finally said yes. The following day Elizabeth issued a royal proclamation stating that Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, would be her husband and consort. There were many unhappy people in the court that day, William Cecil in particular, who feared that once married to the Queen, Dudley would relieve him of his powerful position. He went to see Elizabeth.
‘Ma’am I implore you to think again. There are many more suitable than Leicester. He is, after all, far below the station of Your Majesty.’
‘The decision is made. Leicester has been loyal all these years. What’s more he is a Protestant and we shall produce a Protestant heir to keep the Catholics at bay.’
‘But Ma’am…’
‘Silence, Sir. I’ll hear no more.’
Cecil could see that he was fighting a lost cause. He’d known the Queen since she was a little girl and she’d always been wilful and stubborn once she’d made up her mind. Neither did he wish to end up in the Tower like others who had crossed her.
He bowed ‘As you will Your Majesty.’
The wedding was a grand affair. Elizabeth was dazzling in a white satin gown embroidered with gold thread and tiny Tudor roses. Although green was considered unlucky at a wedding, Elizabeth took no notice. Green was her favourite colour, so over her flaming copper hair she wore a shimmering gold net set with tiny glittering emeralds. At her throat a huge diamond caught the light from hundreds of candelabra as she walked down the aisle of Westminster Abbey to join her betrothed.
Waiting for her at the altar was the tall, handsome Dudley, resplendent in a wine velvet doublet and matching pantaloons, a white ruff edged with gold thread around his throat, and white silk hose encasing his shapely legs. Witnessing the marriage were the ladies and gentlemen of Elizabeth’s court dressed in their colourful finery. Apart from William Cecil in his customary black garb, it was a magnificent sight.
Around the streets of London butchers and bakers and candlestick makers dragged trestles laden with food, out onto the cobbles. The whole of England was given a holiday to celebrate their Queen’s wedding. Back at the palace a huge banquet took place in the Great Hall. Lords and Ladies were seated at the tables according to their rank. Finally, Elizabeth and Dudley arrived to a fanfare of trumpets. There was polite applause while the couple took their seats at the centre of the table.
An air of expectancy ran through the guests, as two of Dudley’s high ranking horsemen rode in, their mounts richly draped with elaborately embroidered cloths. They led a parade of chefs carrying golden platters bearing an assortment of succulent meats, which they laid out on the tables before the guests; peacock pie, roast venison, stuffed chicken and loin of veal, roe-deer a suckling pig, and finally a sturgeon cooked in parsley and vinegar, covered with powdered ginger. To tempt the palates of those with sweeter taste buds sugary pastries and juicy fruits which had been imported from far and wide.
As the party ate, jesters with white painted faces and bells on their chequered caps, leapt around the tables, amusing the gathering with their witticisms, while musicians playing mandolins and pipes, sang bawdy songs. Determined not to enjoy the vulgar display, Cecil feigned a disinterested yawn, which was noted by Dudley, whose mind was set upon ridding Elizabeth’s court of anyone unsympathetic to the marriage.
‘See old Cecil, My Love. He barely keeps his eyes open, poor old man,’ he whispered with amusement into his bride’s ear. Elizabeth laughed. She felt like a girl again, remembering how, as children, she and Robert would lie in wait in the dark corridors of the Palace and jump out at her father’s crusty Chief Advisor, nearly causing him a heart attack.
‘I see,’ she laughed. And then forgot about him. She only had eyes for her handsome husband who could do no wrong.
After the banquet, which lasted for hours, everyone retired to the ballroom for gavottes and minuets. But Elizabeth and Robert slipped away to her bedchamber where the entertainment was far more pleasurable.
In the months that followed she and Dudley were never apart, attending lavish functions in their honour. It was understood by everyone, that Dudley should be treated with the greatest respect as was fitting for a Prince of the Realm and Consort to the Queen. She bestowed upon him the extra title of Duke of Sussex and he wore a coronet and a cloak of ermine on public occasions as a mark of his nobility. They went out stag hunting regularly in the woods around Warwickshire and when they’d had enough would return to Kenilworth Castle. Elizabeth liked Kenilworth. It was a small hamlet far away from the city crowds, where she and Robert could be cossetted by her favourite courtiers. There was little time for the important matters of state during the honeymoon period. While they were away Cecil was given the freedom to make all the decisions.
One evening as they were getting ready for bed the Queen’s dresser was about to leave the room when she overheard the Duke remark, ‘I fear old Cecil’s eyes are dimmed and he is too feeble to remain in such an important role as your Secretary, My Sweet. Maybe it is time for your Majesty to honour him with a castle of his own, somewhere out in the countryside, where he may end his days in peace.’ And where he can’t cause any trouble for me, he thought
‘I fear you may be right, My Love. You must look around and see who may replace him.’
Dudley patted himself on the back mentally and embraced his wife. He had one or two of his friends in mind.
In the meantime Cecil was smouldering with resentment and there were plots afoot to unseat Elizabeth and her husband. The Palace was alive with whisperings amongst the servants that the royal couple had been overheard discussing his fate. According to Dudley he was becoming too old for the job and needed replacing. What’s more Elizabeth seemed to be agreeing with him. Cecil couldn’t let that happen. Robert Dudley must go. He was becoming far too powerful. But Cecil had to wait until the right opportunity came along for him to strike.
One morning after a particularly heavy night drinking and carousing, Elizabeth was feeling the worse for wear.
‘Robert, My Love, you must go hunting without me today. I am feeling quite unwell.’
‘Then I shall bring you back the finest stag, my dear. In the meantime you must retire to your bed chamber and take a potion.’ He kissed her cheek and bade her farewell.
It was a beautiful autumn morning when he rode out, accompanied by members of the court and several bowmen astride the finest and fleetest of the royal stables. They rode for an hour through woodland, the horses’ hooves swishing through crisp fallen leaves.
‘Stag ahead!’ came the excited cry. The hunting party chased the beast which took off at an amazing pace, its stunning antlers catching the odd ray of sunlight as it zig zagged through the trees. The bowmen let several arrows fly, but the animal dodged them and disappeared into the undergrowth. The riders slackened their speed. They’d lost it and somehow, in the middle of the chase, Dudley had also disappeared. ‘Where’s His Lordship?’ yelled one. But the Queen’s husband was nowhere to be seen. The group retraced their steps until one of the younger bowmen, who’d recently joined the hunting party, shouted, ‘Here! I’ve found him!’ Dudley lay in a heap amongst the leaves, an arrow protruding from his back, the blood stain on his doublet spreading wider by the second. With his last breath he gasped, ‘My Queen. God protect her.’ Then he died.
Elizabeth was overwrought. She dressed in black and refused to come out of her chambers for days, instructing Cecil to arrange for Robert’s body to lie in state in the Abbey until she felt strong enough to attend his funeral.
‘Find out the instigator of this treacherous deed,’ she cried. ‘I want a public hanging and his head displayed on the gates of the city for all to see.’
Cecil bowed and left her to her mourning. He knew exactly who had murdered his enemy, because it was who’d instructed him to do it. The man had already been paid a huge sum to leave London and keep his mouth shut. Now he must find someone else to take the blame. Perhaps that young archer who’d found the body would serve his purpose.
With a satisfied smile Cecil hurried off to instruct the Palace Guards to arrest him. His job was done. Dudley was no more..
It was summer in England. The hollow clunk of a leather ball against a sheep’s gut raquet could be heard in the gardens of Windsor Castle, and the nearby lawns were alive with screams of laughter as King Henry’s children, Edward and Elizabeth, played Blind man’s Buff with the Howard children. Robert Dudley and a pretty little girl with blond curls called Amy, had been invited along to join the party. Amy’s father, John Robstart was a favourite of the Howard children’s father, the Duke of Norfolk.
With arms outstretched, Elizabeth staggered around blindly, coppery ringlets escaping from beneath a white blindfold, whilst the others danced around her just out of reach. Suddenly she lunged forward and put her arms around one of the boys who began to giggle.
‘It’s you Rob. I know it’s you by your laugh.’ She ripped off her blindfold and they both rolled over on the grass helpless with laughter.
These were light hearted days for the young Elizabeth with her half sibling Edward and their friends. Royal duties were years away. In any case, once Edward became king it was unlikely that Elizabeth would inherit the throne. Now was the time for innocent childhood fun.
In 1547 King Henry died and Elizabeth’s half-brother Edward came to the throne. By this time Elizabeth had become very attached to Robert, who had grown up to be a very striking young man with dark wavy hair and a trim goatee beard, so it was a shock to her when Robert announced that he and Amy were to be married. Elizabeth wasn’t happy about their relationship at all but she had to be realistic. Robert wasn’t of royal blood so it was unlikely that she would have been allowed to marry him anyway. And Amy was many degrees beneath Dudley in the social hierarchy. So rather than make a fuss she acted with great decorum according to her royal status and decided to bide her time.
The wedding was a happy occasion. The bride and groom were both eighteen years old and obviously infatuated with each other. It took place at the Royal Palace of Sheen on 4th June 1550. The young King Edward was an honoured guest along with his half-sister Princess Elizabeth. There were gentle minuets, lively gavottes and games of Hide and Seek for the younger guests around the gardens. The Palace rang with music and laughter. Elizabeth chatted vivaciously with members of the court, but covertly she watched as Dudley flirted with his new wife.
‘Elizabeth is looking over here,’ whispered Amy. ‘I think you should go and ask her to dance, Robert.’
‘Are you sure, My Love?’ She nodded. ‘Well so be it.’ He gave his bride a quick kiss and went over to Elizabeth who was pretending not to notice him.
He bowed. ‘May I have the honour of this dance, Your Highness?’
As he led her onto the dance-floor she murmured, ‘I congratulate you, Robert Dudley. Amy is a pretty match.’ Whilst jealousy raged in her heart she was too clever to show it. She knew her Rob would soon tire of his pretty plaything and stray to pastures new. She could afford to wait until the fire had burnt itself out.
Elizabeth’s cousin Edward was young, but weak and sickly. In the year 1553 he came down with a dreadful fever which manifested itself in violent coughing and shows of bright red blood. Doctors were called, bringing leeches and poultices to ease his discomfort, but nothing helped. The illness proved to be terminal. As he died without an heir there were various claimants to the throne, and England was in a state of unrest for a while. Plots were rife and Elizabeth herself was confined to the Tower by her Catholic half-sister Mary, daughter of Katherine of Aragon. Eventually Elizabeth was crowned Queen but her life was in constant danger from those who wished her ill. She needed courtiers around her she could trust. Having known Dudley since childhood he was the perfect companion and advisor. He was loyal, smart and very attractive, and she trusted him implicitly, even confiding to her ladies in waiting that she would marry him if he were free, much to the frustration of her Secretary William Cecil, who had been a friend of her late father, Henry the VIII.
In order to keep him constantly by her side she made sure Dudley was given special duties. He was granted the prestigious job of organising Elizabeth’s coronation. Then, as a keen horseman, he was made Master of the Horse and accompanied her whenever she went out hunting in the royal parks. Later, because of his skill with languages, he became her Envoy travelling between England and Spain, holding talks with King Philip on her behalf. All this meant that Amy saw very little of her husband.
‘Surely you are able to spend a little more time with me,’ she complained on one of his rare visits to Cumnor Place. ‘It’s nigh on a year since you were here last.’
‘My dearest please be patient. I am kept busy with matters of state at her Majesty’s pleasure, but I shall try to get home shortly.’ Sadly he had no intention of playing the devoted husband, finding more to amuse him elsewhere.
And so it went on. Month after month Amy would wait to hear from her husband and month after month there was no sign of him. Meanwhile he was enjoying the attentions of various ladies of the court while making sure he kept Elizabeth sweet. Lonely and depressed Amy’s health deteriorated and her maid was concerned for her wellbeing.
‘The Mistress is sorely unhappy,’ she told her friend, Mary Scubbard, who was accompanying her to the local fair. ‘I fear she may do herself harm if her husband stays away much longer.’
‘Didn’t I also hear she had a disease of the breast?’ asked Mary. ‘Poor lady must be in great discomfort. It’s a shame he can’t attend her more.’
That night Amy was in such pain she rang for her maid to get her some laudanum. But the maid was sleeping so deeply after her long day out at the fair that she didn’t hear. In desperate need of relief Amy got up and stumbled out of her bed chamber into the dimly lit passageway to waken her. At the top of a short flight of steps leading down to her maid’s room, she felt a sudden dizzy spell. Tottering blindly she fell forward down the stairs.
Amy’s condition had become the subject of common gossip around Cumnor Place, so when her body was found the following day with a broken neck everyone assumed she had taken her own life. But there were different whisperings in Elizabeth’s court. It was common knowledge that Elizabeth favoured Dudley. She’d showered him with titles, Earl of Leicester, Knight of the Garter and even given him a castle in Kenilworth. On official state occasions he was allowed to act as official host. In every area except marriage he was the consort to the Queen. Their close relationship had been noted as far afield as Spain.
When King Philip’s Spanish advisers informed him of the elevation in Dudley’s status, they told him, ‘Lord Robert has come so much into favour that he does whatever he likes, and it is even said that Her Majesty visits him in his chamber day and night. Your Majesty would do well to attract him and confirm him in his friendship.’
Dudley’s influence upon Elizabeth was profound. And now that his wife was dead his enemies were quick to spread malicious rumours as to the cause of her death. When it was argued that he wasn’t present when it happened, some said that maybe he’d paid someone to push her down the stairs, and even worse, maybe Elizabeth herself was involved. Elizabeth couldn’t allow this gossip to continue.
The day before the inquest into Amy’s death, she called the Coroner to the Palace.
‘This death is a tragedy,’ she said. ‘I am told that the lady was in great distress with a savage disease of the breast that could only worsen in time. It seems to me that she has taken her own life in a fit of despair to relieve the agonising pain.’
‘Yes, Your Majesty. It certainly seems that way.’
‘I’m glad we agree. This business of Dudley arranging her death must be suppressed. It reflects badly on me as well as him. And to save the unhappy lady the dishonour of a suicide verdict I implore you to use your influence to bring about a verdict of accidental death.’
The Coroner bowed and withdrew. Some weeks later the verdict was announced. Accidental Death.
There have been various speculations about the death of Amy Robsart, amongst them that she was murdered by her husband so that he would be free to marry Elizabeth. But there was no evidence to support this theory. Some say that if he’d wanted to get rid of her he wouldn’t have chosen to push her down six steps and risk her survival. However in those days there was much jealousy surrounding Dudley’s relationship with Elizabeth, and suspicion remains to this day. However, Dudley might have been a poor husband but that doesn’t make him a murderer. He was also genuinely fond of his wife in spite of his philandering. On the other hand, he had become very attached to the power bestowed upon him by the Queen, and possibly hoped that he would one day be free to marry her.
In the meantime William Cecil, Elizabeth’s Private Secretary and close advisor, was pressing her to marry and produce an heir. Her sister Mary, who had been banished to Scotland, had already produced a male child, James, who Cecil saw as a dangerous claimant to the English throne. There were many offers of marriage, mainly from the Duke of Anjou who fancied himself as King of England, but Elizabeth declined them all except for Robert Dudley’s proposal. She had turned him down on numerous occasions since Amy’s death, not wanting to fan the flames of suspicion, however in 1556 the tide turned for Dudley.
One night on one of her clandestine visits to his bedchamber he got down on one knee and took her hand.
‘Elizabeth, you know I have long loved you. Would you at last do me the honour of being my wife?’
Elizabeth smiled and nodded. She was tired of their secret affair and wanted everyone to know about their love for one another. Robert couldn’t believe it. After all these years she’d finally said yes. The following day Elizabeth issued a royal proclamation stating that Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, would be her husband and consort. There were many unhappy people in the court that day, William Cecil in particular, who feared that once married to the Queen, Dudley would relieve him of his powerful position. He went to see Elizabeth.
‘Ma’am I implore you to think again. There are many more suitable than Leicester. He is, after all, far below the station of Your Majesty.’
‘The decision is made. Leicester has been loyal all these years. What’s more he is a Protestant and we shall produce a Protestant heir to keep the Catholics at bay.’
‘But Ma’am…’
‘Silence, Sir. I’ll hear no more.’
Cecil could see that he was fighting a lost cause. He’d known the Queen since she was a little girl and she’d always been wilful and stubborn once she’d made up her mind. Neither did he wish to end up in the Tower like others who had crossed her.
He bowed ‘As you will Your Majesty.’
The wedding was a grand affair. Elizabeth was dazzling in a white satin gown embroidered with gold thread and tiny Tudor roses. Although green was considered unlucky at a wedding, Elizabeth took no notice. Green was her favourite colour, so over her flaming copper hair she wore a shimmering gold net set with tiny glittering emeralds. At her throat a huge diamond caught the light from hundreds of candelabra as she walked down the aisle of Westminster Abbey to join her betrothed.
Waiting for her at the altar was the tall, handsome Dudley, resplendent in a wine velvet doublet and matching pantaloons, a white ruff edged with gold thread around his throat, and white silk hose encasing his shapely legs. Witnessing the marriage were the ladies and gentlemen of Elizabeth’s court dressed in their colourful finery. Apart from William Cecil in his customary black garb, it was a magnificent sight.
Around the streets of London butchers and bakers and candlestick makers dragged trestles laden with food, out onto the cobbles. The whole of England was given a holiday to celebrate their Queen’s wedding. Back at the palace a huge banquet took place in the Great Hall. Lords and Ladies were seated at the tables according to their rank. Finally, Elizabeth and Dudley arrived to a fanfare of trumpets. There was polite applause while the couple took their seats at the centre of the table.
An air of expectancy ran through the guests, as two of Dudley’s high ranking horsemen rode in, their mounts richly draped with elaborately embroidered cloths. They led a parade of chefs carrying golden platters bearing an assortment of succulent meats, which they laid out on the tables before the guests; peacock pie, roast venison, stuffed chicken and loin of veal, roe-deer a suckling pig, and finally a sturgeon cooked in parsley and vinegar, covered with powdered ginger. To tempt the palates of those with sweeter taste buds sugary pastries and juicy fruits which had been imported from far and wide.
As the party ate, jesters with white painted faces and bells on their chequered caps, leapt around the tables, amusing the gathering with their witticisms, while musicians playing mandolins and pipes, sang bawdy songs. Determined not to enjoy the vulgar display, Cecil feigned a disinterested yawn, which was noted by Dudley, whose mind was set upon ridding Elizabeth’s court of anyone unsympathetic to the marriage.
‘See old Cecil, My Love. He barely keeps his eyes open, poor old man,’ he whispered with amusement into his bride’s ear. Elizabeth laughed. She felt like a girl again, remembering how, as children, she and Robert would lie in wait in the dark corridors of the Palace and jump out at her father’s crusty Chief Advisor, nearly causing him a heart attack.
‘I see,’ she laughed. And then forgot about him. She only had eyes for her handsome husband who could do no wrong.
After the banquet, which lasted for hours, everyone retired to the ballroom for gavottes and minuets. But Elizabeth and Robert slipped away to her bedchamber where the entertainment was far more pleasurable.
In the months that followed she and Dudley were never apart, attending lavish functions in their honour. It was understood by everyone, that Dudley should be treated with the greatest respect as was fitting for a Prince of the Realm and Consort to the Queen. She bestowed upon him the extra title of Duke of Sussex and he wore a coronet and a cloak of ermine on public occasions as a mark of his nobility. They went out stag hunting regularly in the woods around Warwickshire and when they’d had enough would return to Kenilworth Castle. Elizabeth liked Kenilworth. It was a small hamlet far away from the city crowds, where she and Robert could be cossetted by her favourite courtiers. There was little time for the important matters of state during the honeymoon period. While they were away Cecil was given the freedom to make all the decisions.
One evening as they were getting ready for bed the Queen’s dresser was about to leave the room when she overheard the Duke remark, ‘I fear old Cecil’s eyes are dimmed and he is too feeble to remain in such an important role as your Secretary, My Sweet. Maybe it is time for your Majesty to honour him with a castle of his own, somewhere out in the countryside, where he may end his days in peace.’ And where he can’t cause any trouble for me, he thought
‘I fear you may be right, My Love. You must look around and see who may replace him.’
Dudley patted himself on the back mentally and embraced his wife. He had one or two of his friends in mind.
In the meantime Cecil was smouldering with resentment and there were plots afoot to unseat Elizabeth and her husband. The Palace was alive with whisperings amongst the servants that the royal couple had been overheard discussing his fate. According to Dudley he was becoming too old for the job and needed replacing. What’s more Elizabeth seemed to be agreeing with him. Cecil couldn’t let that happen. Robert Dudley must go. He was becoming far too powerful. But Cecil had to wait until the right opportunity came along for him to strike.
One morning after a particularly heavy night drinking and carousing, Elizabeth was feeling the worse for wear.
‘Robert, My Love, you must go hunting without me today. I am feeling quite unwell.’
‘Then I shall bring you back the finest stag, my dear. In the meantime you must retire to your bed chamber and take a potion.’ He kissed her cheek and bade her farewell.
It was a beautiful autumn morning when he rode out, accompanied by members of the court and several bowmen astride the finest and fleetest of the royal stables. They rode for an hour through woodland, the horses’ hooves swishing through crisp fallen leaves.
‘Stag ahead!’ came the excited cry. The hunting party chased the beast which took off at an amazing pace, its stunning antlers catching the odd ray of sunlight as it zig zagged through the trees. The bowmen let several arrows fly, but the animal dodged them and disappeared into the undergrowth. The riders slackened their speed. They’d lost it and somehow, in the middle of the chase, Dudley had also disappeared. ‘Where’s His Lordship?’ yelled one. But the Queen’s husband was nowhere to be seen. The group retraced their steps until one of the younger bowmen, who’d recently joined the hunting party, shouted, ‘Here! I’ve found him!’ Dudley lay in a heap amongst the leaves, an arrow protruding from his back, the blood stain on his doublet spreading wider by the second. With his last breath he gasped, ‘My Queen. God protect her.’ Then he died.
Elizabeth was overwrought. She dressed in black and refused to come out of her chambers for days, instructing Cecil to arrange for Robert’s body to lie in state in the Abbey until she felt strong enough to attend his funeral.
‘Find out the instigator of this treacherous deed,’ she cried. ‘I want a public hanging and his head displayed on the gates of the city for all to see.’
Cecil bowed and left her to her mourning. He knew exactly who had murdered his enemy, because it was who’d instructed him to do it. The man had already been paid a huge sum to leave London and keep his mouth shut. Now he must find someone else to take the blame. Perhaps that young archer who’d found the body would serve his purpose.
With a satisfied smile Cecil hurried off to instruct the Palace Guards to arrest him. His job was done. Dudley was no more..