Lost Love Found (18 page)

He dozed toward dawn, to be rudely awakened by his sister and brother-in-law in the late morning. He was deep in a dream in which he was making passionate love to Valentina when the voice of his body servant, Plumgutt, intruded.

“Wake up, m’lord! Wake up! The Earl and Countess of Alcester are here to see you!”

“Tell them to go away!” he muttered, trying to fight his way back to paradise.

“Padraic! Wake up this instant!” Willow’s voice demanded, and she yanked his thick, dark hair.

Reluctantly, Padraic rolled over and opened his eyes.

“I may kill you with my bare hands, sister mine, if this is not important,” he threatened.

“Essex has attempted a rebellion!” Willow said. “Is that important enough?”

Lord Burke was awake instantly. “What happened?” he asked, sitting up.

“You tell him, James,” Willow instructed her husband. “James was there,” she told Padraic.

“The council met at dawn,” James Edwardes began. “Essex had been summoned to appear before them last night but he refused to come, claiming that Lord Grey had made an attempt on his life. This morning the queen sent Lord Keeper Egerton, the Earl of Worcester, Sir William Knollys, and several others, including me, to Essex House to bring Robert Devereaux before the Privy Council. The courtyard of Essex House was swarming with armed men, and although the earl came out to greet us pleasantly enough, when the lord keeper told him that we had come to escort him to the council, Essex behaved in a perfidious and rash fashion, claiming that he had been badly dealt with and that we actually sought his life. His men cried out that we were abusing him and would betray him. They began to shout for our lives. Essex brought us into the safety of his house. And then, to our complete surprise, he locked us in his library! He called through the door that he would return and free us after he’d made order of the disorder.

“Fortunately, the mob in the courtyard followed him out into the street, and opening the windows in the library, we could hear Essex shouting, ‘For the queen! A plot is laid for my life! For the queen!’ Ralegh had come with us to try to talk his cousin, Sir Fernando Gorges, out of following Essex, but he could not dissuade him. Ralegh escaped before we were brought into the house.”

“James was so brave,” Willow said proudly.

“What happened next?” Padraic demanded.

“ ’Tis Willow’s part of the story,” said the Earl of Alcester.

“Do not tell me that you were in the midst of all this?” Lord Burke said incredulously.

Willow laughed. “I know, I know! ‘Ever proper Willow.’ But aye, I was. Even though it is Sunday, I had gone to my dressmaker on Fenchurch Street. I simply must have a new gown for the queen’s Shrove Tuesday fête, and Mistress Jones is so very busy. Well, Mistress Jones lives right next door to Sheriff Smith’s house, and Essex, it seems, had been given to understand that the London sheriff would have a thousand trained men for him. He never even spoke to Sheriff Smith, yet he believed
that!
” She shook her head.

“How do you know he did not speak to the sheriff?” asked her brother.

“I’ll get to that in a moment,” Willow said, and picked up the thread of her story.

“We were very surprised,” I can tell you, “to hear a great shrieking mob turning from Poultry and Lombard streets into Fenchurch. They were crying things like, ‘England is sold to Spain by Cecil!’ Did you ever hear of anything so completely ridiculous? How they pick on that poor little man simply because of his appearance! There were shouts of ‘They will give the crown to the Infanta!’ and ‘Citizens of London, arm for England and the queen!’ I have never in my life heard such folderol. Everyone was hanging out of their windows gaping at this nonsense.

“Poor Sheriff Smith ran out the back door of his house in his nightshirt into Mistress Jones’s establishment so that he should not even have to see the Earl of Essex much less speak with him. The dressmaker sent her son to the sheriff’s house to get his clothes so he might hie himself to the Lord Mayor which, I can assure you, he quickly did. The poor man was dreadfully upset when the dressmaker’s boy returned with his clothing, saying that the Earl of Essex was sitting in his house claiming that Sheriff Smith had promised him a thousand armed men! The poor man was absolutely green around the gills, I tell you. He ran to the Lord Mayor to proclaim his innocence. He kept saying, ‘But I don’t even know his lordship! Oh, aye! I know him by sight, but who in London does not? I have never met him!’

“As soon as I safely could,” Willow continued, “I departed from Mistress Jones’s house and hurried here to Greenwood. Near St. Paul’s a chain had been drawn across the street, and there were soldiers with pikes and muskets, so I was forced to go around. Sir Thomas Cecil, the new Lord Burghley, the Earl of Cumberland, and about a dozen others came down the street preceded by royal heralds proclaiming that the Earl of Essex and his followers were all traitors whose actions were against the queen, not in her behalf. Poor Essex. I fear he has overstepped his bounds at long last.”

“Poor Essex?” Padraic Burke echoed. “Surely you do not sympathize with the man? He has been so puffed up with his own importance these many years, it’s a wonder he didn’t burst long ago!”

“Do not be a fool, Padraic, Of course I am not seriously in sympathy with Essex, but I cannot help but feel sorry for him. He had so much and he has wantonly thrown everything away.”

“What is happening now?” Lord Burke demanded.

“Essex finally returned to his house,” said the Earl of Alcester, taking up the tale. “He released us from the library. He had, it seemed, attempted to gain passage through St. Paul’s but had been refused. Sir Christopher Blount, who was with Essex, attacked one of the queen’s officers with his sword. He was wounded and taken prisoner. In the uproar that followed, several others were wounded and one was killed, or so we have heard. Essex fled down to the river and commanded a startled werryman to take him home.

“After entering the library, he paid scant attention to us, and we watched in amazement as he consigned many of his papers to the fire, including a little bag around his neck. The entire household was in an uproar, with Essex’s wife, mother, and one of his sisters—Lady Rich, I believe—all shrieking and wailing. We simply walked down the lawns to Essex’s water gate, hailed werries, and hurried back to Whitehall.”

“God’s foot!” Padraic leaped from his bed, forgetting that he was nude.

“Padraic!” Willow shrieked, blushing.

Realizing his state, Lord Burke dragged a sheet about his loins, muttering an apology.

James Edwardes laughed. “Your wife, should you ever decide to take one, will certainly be a lucky girl.”

“James!”

The Earl of Alcester laughed again. “Come along, my dear. I believe your brother wishes to dress.”

“I want to get to the palace,” Padraic said. “The queen will need her loyal friends about her. And what of Valentina? This is not over yet, I fear.”

“I will go with you,” said his brother-in-law, “I would not miss this for all the world.”

“Well, you are certainly not leaving me behind!” Willow declared. “Besides, Gaby will probably be terrified and need her mother.”

At Whitehall, the palace was in an uproar. Barricades of coaches had been drawn across the streets leading to the palace, and the lord admiral had collected a small, impromptu army. The citizens of Westminster were arming themselves against Essex, and the little nearby village of Chelsea rallied to defend their queen. Elizabeth Tudor, however, was not one bit nonplussed by the turmoil going on about her. Master Browning, her cook, had presented her with a magnificent Sunday dinner, and she was looking forward to eating all of it.

There was a rich, clear broth of game bird, fragrant with burgundy wine, with tender bits of pheasant floating in it. There was a carrot pudding sweetened with clover honey and a platter of hot pastries filled with either minced chicken, beef, or lamb, seasoned impeccably. There was a covered dish filled with delicate bits of seafood in a sauce of heavy cream and sherry. There was fresh bread, sweet butter, and soft Normandy cheese. On the sideboard in the queen’s private dining room were an egg custard and a plate of small sweet cakes soaked in malmsey.

She bowed her head and said grace. “God hath preserved me since my birth. He hath placed me in the seat of kings. God will preserve me in my seat until he sees fit to call me home. Amen.” She then set about to enjoy her meal, which she very much did. And when she had finished, she said to her ladies, “I will now go and see what these rebels dare to do against me.”

The Countess of Nottingham, the lord admiral’s wife, said to her, “Nay, cousin. For your safety’s sake, you must remain indoors until this is over.”

“Bosh! Did I remain indoors during the Armada crisis? I did not! I went to Tilbury and rode among my soldiers to address them personally. I do not fear Essex and his rabble!”

“I think Lady Howard is suggesting that the sight of Your Majesty would rouse your Londoners to violence against the earl and his followers. Your Majesty could unwittingly be harmed in such a melee,” Valentina put in, feeling braver about speaking up.

“Lady Barrows speaks with uncommon good sense for so young a woman,” agreed Robert Cecil as he entered the queen’s apartments. “I must add my voice to hers. No one questions your bravery, madam, but this is a trying time.”

“Oh, very well,” grumbled the queen, helping herself to another wine-soaked cake. “So London stands firm for me, does it? I knew it! Did I not say so, ladies? London has ever been my city, as it was my father’s city.”

The Earl of Nottingham and a small army surrounded Essex House. Lady Essex, Lady Blount, Lady Rich, and the other women in the household of Lord Essex were allowed to go forth. Essex was then told that if he did not surrender, a cannon would be used to demolish him, his followers, and his home.

“ ’Tis more honorable to die fighting than by the hands of the executioner!” the Earl of Essex shouted defiantly, but his followers were not of the same mind, and they prevailed on him to surrender.

On that February night, in a cold, misty, sleeting rain, the Earl of Essex and his followers exited Essex House and surrendered their swords to the Earl of Nottingham. Essex and the Earl of Southamptom were housed at Lambeth Palace rather than in the Tower. There was no doubt as to Essex’s guilt, but whether or not the queen would sign a death warrant in his name was a moot point.

Elizabeth Tudor was once more placed in the kind of difficult position she had always attempted to avoid. The French ambassador came to call, wishing to ascertain the queen’s condition under such trying circumstances. If he had hoped to pass on to his master a report of a broken Elizabeth Tudor, he was doomed to disappointment. The queen, every bit her elegant self, greeted him warmly.

“I grieve with Your Majesty over the sad fall of my lord of Essex,” he said politely.

“My lord Essex is a senseless ingrate who has at last revealed what has long been in his mind. Good riddance!” the queen answered.

Privately she grieved, but she would not show her grief to all of Europe, to people only too ready to laugh at a foolish old woman’s fancy.

Elizabeth’s women comforted her, and because of their afternoon at Lord Buckhurst’s, the queen now sought out Valentina.

“You remind me of your mother,” the queen said to Lady Barrows. “Not in appearance, of course, for Aidan St, Michael was a plain girl for all her lovely hair and eyes. It is your manner, Valentina. Your heart is good, and I need a kind heart now.”

“I will not leave you, dear madam,” Valentina vowed.

“His trial begins in a few days,” the queen said softly.

“It will be over quickly, and then there will be nothing to distress you, dear madam,” Valentina told her.

“Only my memories, Valentina. Only my memories.”

The ladies nearest to the queen were amazed by this sudden fondness for young Lady Barrows, but they all liked her greatly, so there was no animosity. Valentina had gained their respect by turning the queen’s maids of honor from a group of wanton, bad-mannered hoydens into a cheerful band of well-mannered and delightful girls. Valentina’s gentleness soothed the queen who wanted her more in her company, thus relieving the overworked ladies in waiting.

Valentina had her own reasons for such devoted service to Elizabeth Tudor. It meant that she had less free time, and was thus able to avoid her two passionate suitors, for both Padraic Burke and Tom Ashburne refused to be denied. The maids had begun to notice and very much enjoyed teasing her, particularly as Gabrielle Edwardes was happy to good-naturedly supply her companions with little family details and tidbits of gossip.

“Fancy Uncle Padraic falling in love with cousin Valentina,” she said brightly. “We have all thought that Uncle Padraic would remain a bachelor.

Even the queen, who more often than not disapproved of romance amongst her ladies, found herself amused by Valentina’s situation. She had little enough to amuse her now.

Eleven days after the Earl of Essex’s act of treason, he and the Earl of Southampton were brought to trial in Westminster Hall. The others would face trial later. Lord Buckhurst presided over the court, which was arranged in a square directly in the center of the hall. The great room buzzed with clerks and judges as twenty-six peers of the realm prepared to judge the traitors.

Both men pleaded not guilty. Outside, the February wind howled mournfully. Essex declared himself a loyal subject of the queen. He claimed that what he had done had been done only in self-defense, that any reasonable man would have done the same. The attorney general, Sir Edward Coke, rebutted the earl’s statement, recounting the details of the uprising and claiming that any Parliament called by Essex would have been a bloody Parliament.

“A bloody Parliament would that have been where my Lord of Essex, that now stands all in black, would have worn a bloody robe! But now in God’s last judgement, he of his Earldom shall be Robert the Last, that of a Kingdom thought to be Robert the First!” Sir Edward finished.