Читать книгу My Dark Lady: Shakespeare's Lost Play - Dan Walker - Страница 13

By this time, Elizabeth had established her Court at Whitehall Palace, a large Tudor-Gothic building appropriated from Cardinal Wolsey by her father, Henry VIII. She delighted in the palace's gleaming white towers, glittering pinnacles and vast galleries. A large tiltyard allowed her courtiers to parade their martial skills. The Privy Garden offered privacy for her daily walks.

Best of all, the Great Hall, hung with Flemish tapestries, provided a large, well-lit setting for state occasions. Burghley encouraged the move, for Whitehall Palace, like most large structures of the day, was riddled with secret passageways, hidden escape tunnels, and peepholes.

Much to the Lord Chamberlain's disgust, Edward and Thomas not only distinguished themselves in the Scottish wars, they returned unscathed. Eager to escape Burghley House, Edward chose to reside in apartments at the Savoy.

Henry VIII had revived royal tournaments and made them a central part of court life at Windsor Castle. Elizabeth continued her father's tradition, holding earnest but friendly competitions every May. For 3 days, Windsor Castle's ancient walls echoed with the clash of metal against metal as heavily armored knights battled under the banners of their wives or sweethearts.

In 1571, Edward, splendidly dressed in armor and crimson velvet, entered his first tournament. Watching from the Queen's side, Burghley quietly congratulated himself on having banished the martial arts from his ward's education.

What the Lord Chamberlain didn't know was that Edward's father had taught him to fight at an early age. In Scotland, these formidable skills had been honed under fire on the battlefield. At Elizabeth's tournament, the newcomer fought superbly and, to the Court's amazement, bested every opponent.

After his final resounding victory in the tiltyard, the Red Knight trudged over to Elizabeth in his heavy armor. As he removed his helmet, the cheering crowd rained flowers down on his head. Kneeling, the Earl proclaimed: "My gracious Queen, along with my victory, I tender you my service, such as it is, being tender, raw, and young; which elder days shall ripen and confirm to more approved words and feats."

"A very pretty speech, milord. We thank you for your offer of brave service."

"If your Majesty would accord me the honor of accepting it, I will follow you to the death."

"Nay, milord. I would have you go before me there," Elizabeth replied with a chuckle, prompting laughter from those around her. "We have a bauble to match your rich deeds this day," she said stepping down from her throne to present Edward with a costly tablet of diamonds. The crowd applauded loudly.

-:-:-

Despite this thunderous applause, Edward hadn't forgotten that real progress at Elizabeth's Court depended on intellectual, not physical, prowess. Determined to make his mark as both warrior and scholar, he sought out his friend John Lyly at the Boar's Head Tavern.

After swearing him to secrecy regarding their youthful escapades together, Edward hired the young poet as his personal secretary. Acting on Lyly's advice, he commissioned a translation of Balthasar Castiglioine's "The Courtier." Edward wrote an eloquent preface to this book in which he dedicated the work to Elizabeth. Edward then applied for permission to present a dedication copy of "The Courtier" to the Queen. His request was granted.

On the appointed day, Edward stood in Whitehall Palace's Great Hall. He was part of a line numbering some 150 other supplicants, each patiently waiting to address the Queen. Peering over their heads, Edward could see Elizabeth seated imperiously on her high-backed golden throne atop a small stage surrounded by guards and attendants.

In his hand the Earl held a dedication copy of "The Courtier" bound with scarlet ribbons. As he surveyed the vast room, state trumpets sounded loudly. His thoughts drifted back to the first time he'd met the yellow-haired Queen.

-:-:-

Edward always recalled his early childhood in idyllic images. One glittering highlight had been Elizabeth's arrival at Castle Hedingham. England's energetic new ruler was fond of visiting her wealthier subjects. Such "royal progresses" provided a welcome relief from squabbling politicians. They also allowed the ever-thrifty monarch to be entertained in her noblemen's ancestral castles at their expense.

In 1561, John was awarded the extremely costly honor of keeping Elizabeth amused for 5 days. He prepared to welcome her with giant banners, loud trumpets, and a rich panoply of color and pageantry.

-:-:-

The moment the Queen's caravan was sighted, Edward scrambled up the spiral staircase's stone steps to Castle Hedingham's highest turret. From this vantage point, he watched Elizabeth, mounted on a magnificent white charger, leading her retinue towards the castle's steep driveway.

John and Margery stood together on the moat's bridge. As the Queen rode into view, they stepped forward, smiling and waving a greeting. John's trumpeters sounded a loud fanfare.

Acknowledging their salute with a raised hand, Elizabeth turned her horse up the steep driveway. Armed guards stood shoulder to shoulder, lining both sides of the road. Each wore the Earl of Oxford's distinctive livery with its bright crest, a silver five-pointed star. The two rows of burly men stretched back towards London as far as the eye could see. A second loud fanfare sounded as Elizabeth rode across the bridge spanning the moat and entered the castle.

In addition to the usual hunting, feasting, and musical recitals, the Earl was relying on his players to make the Queen's visit to Castle Hedingham especially memorable. They had been busily rehearsing a popular rustic farce for weeks.

Entitled, "A Country Bridal," this comedy was staged on the penultimate evening of the Queen's visit. A platform stage had been erected in the Castle's Banqueting Hall. Guards with lighted torches stood beside it to provide illumination. John, Margery, and their guests settled down as the farce began.

Soon Elizabeth, seated in a place of honor on stage, was leading the audience in gales of hearty laughter. Burghley sat to one side, refusing to join in the general amusement. He preferred to spend his evening eyeing John's home and royal favor enviously.

The sixteenth Earl, for his part, treated Burghley with aristocratic disdain. In John's eyes, the minister was nothing more than a bureaucratic upstart who belonged downstairs with his servants.

After the play, John thanked the players and announced that his son would now recite a poem the boy had written in honor of Elizabeth's visit. Gazing shyly at Elizabeth with fascinated admiration, Edward rose from his seat and took the stage.

He unfurled a manuscript. His feet fidgeted under him. A passionate intensity filled the young Earl's face.

Taking several deep breaths, he lifted the manuscript and began reading:

"Her hair of gold, her front of ivory

A gentle heart within so white a breast

Her teeth of pearl, lips ruby, crystal eye,

Needs must I honor her above the rest:

Since she is formed of none other mold,

But ruby, crystal, ivory, pearl, and gold."

Edward bowed deeply. Straightening-up, he stepping forward and presented the manuscript to Elizabeth along with his best bow. The young Queen received the poem with a gracious smile and pronounced it, "Splendid." The room broke into loud applause.

Edward flashed a mischievous grin. Suddenly, to everyone's astonishment, the young Earl sprung forward, jumped up onto the royal lap and kissed Elizabeth full on the lips. There was a moment of stunned silence before the Queen laughed, clearly delighted with her tiny, blushing poet.

That night, musicians played a bombastic march as fireworks arched over the castle's battlements, dazzling onlookers before falling to earth. The Queen watched from a high window, the delighted Edward still at her side.

-:-:-

The next day dawned clear and bright. Elizabeth asked Edward to show her his favorite local sights. Soon, their mounts were descending the steep driveway towards a large fishpond.

As they ambled peacefully along, Edward entertained Elizabeth with a story about the fishpond. A secret tunnel led down to its banks from deep inside the castle's walls. Centuries earlier, during one particularly lengthy siege, his ancestors, who traversed the tunnel to fish regularly, had rained their catch down on the besiegers' heads. Demoralized by this humiliating demonstration of their inability to starve the Oxfords into submission, the attackers had marched off in search of less formidable targets.

Elizabeth was delighted with Edward's story. By now, the narrow trail had led them to a broad, flat meadow. Elizabeth halted her horse, sucking in the scent of wildflowers. Above them, birds annoyed by their intrusion, began calling loudly.

"Shall we gallop?" asked the Queen.

"By all means, your Majesty," Edward replied. Placing his riding crop sideways in his mouth, he gathered up the reins and prepared to apply his spurs.

"Edward, why do you bite your crop so?"

Edward lifted the crop from his jaw. "My father taught me the trick, your Majesty. It stops my teeth rattling around. Once we were racing each other and in the excitement, I forgot to keep my jaw clenched. My mount stumbled, jarring me, and smashing my teeth together."

"That must have hurt."

"It did indeed. I thought I'd bitten my tongue off; the pain was terrible. So now I bite into my crop to keep my teeth clamped together."

"What a good idea. I once chipped a tooth in a similar mishap." The Queen placed her riding crop sideways in her mouth. Grinning like a child, she kicked her horse into motion and raced off across the sunny meadow. Edward urged his horse after her. Startled hares scrambled out of their path.

In the excitement of her headlong gallop, Elizabeth quickly discovered that she enjoyed clamping down on her riding crop. Carrying her crop in her mouth, somewhat like a leather bit, became a habit whenever she rode fast. It was of course, a custom the Queen dispensed with as undignified in sight of visiting ambassadors and other dignitaries.

-:-:-

The royal attendant announced a name in loud, ringing tones, startling Edward from his memories. A new supplicant stepped forward eagerly and bowed to the Queen. Edward and the others all shuffled forward one step. He looked around the giant hall and thought back to the time his father had danced attendance at Elizabeth's Court. The Queen's invitation had arrived shortly after her stay at Castle Hedingham.

-:-:-

Like Edward, John found the royal court to be a treacherous world of dissolute emotions and rancorous rivalries. By day, he and Margery hunted and feasted with the Queen. After dark, they donned lavish costumes and outlandish masks to dance amidst swirling courtiers.

At first, the Earl and his attractive young wife ignored the deep currents of envy and treachery swirling beneath the Court's festive, glittering surface. They succeeded in closing their ears to the gossip about Elizabeth Tudor. Many of these whisperings revolved around the Queen's habit of picking lovers from among her Gentlemen Pensioners. These were the crown's private bodyguard, recruited from good-looking, well-born youths.

According to the whisperers, her Majesty, having announced herself "joined in marriage to a husband, namely the Kingdom of England," felt free to satisfy her earthy needs with Gentlemen Pensioners. The maids of honor were in a more-or-less constant state of agitation, giggling behind closed doors and discreetly raised fans about which gentleman was currently measuring up to the Queen's stringent standards.

As the months drifted by, John found himself drawn into the courtly games of influence and intrigue. When Elizabeth appointed him to the Privy Council, her group of top advisors, it became impossible for John not to side against Burghley and the new politicians. He and Margery were soon caught up in a dizzying whirlpool of feud-riven ambition and corruption.

At court one man's rise to prominence inevitably signaled another's fall from influence. And as always, those who lost favor could also lose their lives.

-:-:-

Not surprisingly, John began to relish his visits to Castle Hedingham almost as much as Edward, who found life without this once familiar figure very difficult. In common with children everywhere, all Edward ever wanted was his father and mother's constant, devoted attention.

In 1562, John was at Castle Hedingham on a rare visit home when grim-faced messengers arrived with a sealed letter from London. As John read the message, sadness swept over his features. A sudden fever had carried away his good friend, the Earl of Shropshire, leaving vacant the vital post of Lord Chamberlain, chief advisor to Elizabeth. Calling for his boots and horse, John set out for London.

Upset over his father's hasty departure, Edward begged for, and received, permission to ride the first few miles with him.

"Why do you have to rush back to London, father?"

"Because a very important man has just died."

"Must you go, father?"

"Yes," John said sadly, guiding his mount around a fallen branch. "Your mother will join me in a few days time."

"May I accompany her?"

"No. You have your studies to keep you busy."

"I'd rather ride with you."

"And I'd rather you attended to your uncle and tutor, Arthur."

"But, father..."

"Your mother only recently convinced her brother to leave his post at Cambridge University and become your tutor. You must not repay his great generosity by wasting the man's time."

"I'd rather study fencing than Latin."

"You're going to need both, Edward," John said patiently.

"Why?"

"Because an Earl must have a well-rounded education. It isn't enough to be able to swing a sword in battle. Great things are also expected of you and your pen."

"What manner of things?"

"Consider the fine example Uncle Arthur is setting for you. He's hard at work translating Ovid's poem "Metamorphoses" into English, all fifteen books."

"I know, father," Edward sighed. "We read that epic daily, in English and Latin."

"Good. I want you to know it by heart."

"I'll never manage that, father."

"Oh, you will. It just takes time. Literature's in your blood, my boy. Never forget that your other uncle, Henry Howard, the Earl of Surrey, wrote the first English sonnets."

"I can write sonnets. Uncle Arthur showed me. Let me ride to London and I'll write one about you."

"No. I've told you that I ride on important and sober business."

"Yes, a very important man has just died."

"That's right. The late Earl held the most powerful position at Court."

"More powerful than the Queen?"

"No, of course not, my dear Edward the Seventh," John replied gently, employing his secret pet name for the boy in an attempt to soften the blow of his sudden departure. "He was Lord Chamberlain, and I have to help decide who'll replace him."

"Cannot Queen Elizabeth do that on her own?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because the Queen's advisors are fiercely divided. On our side there's the old loyal nobility. Against us are the new self-made men, cowardly curs who prefer the Court's dark shadows to the bright sun of tournament fighting."

"They're bad men?"

"Yes, because they're all merchants and meddlers who care nothing for our traditions or loyalties. Once such men become bureaucrats, they thrive on discord, shifting allegiances faster than shuttlecocks flying back and forth."

"Is Burghley a bureaucrat?"

"Burghley's their leader. He's the Baron of the Bureaucrats," said John with a grim smile.

"I didn't like him, father."

"There's no reason why you should, my little king, he's a baseborn knave. His grandfather was a steward. Now, the upstart seeks to fish in the Court's troubled waters for his own treacherous profit. I'm riding to London to stop him, and you must turn back right now. Uncle Arthur will be waiting."

-:-:-

Although Burghley professed the Protestant creed, he pursued power with a distinctly amoral zeal. The Earl of Shropshire's sudden death placed everything he wanted within his reach. Burghley knew that Elizabeth trusted him, not least because his careful frugality matched her own instinctive thriftiness. He was the natural successor to Shropshire as Lord Chamberlain.

Then, the ancient families put John forward for the vacant post. Burghley seethed with anger. He rallied Lord Cobham and his other supporters around him. But, even as they cast about for ways to discredit Oxford, a servant ran in with word that the Queen was favoring John as her new Lord Chamberlain.

Burghley was a practical man with a strong Machiavellian streak. When he reached out for a political opportunity, he did so with both hands. True to his nature, Burghley decided to act quickly and ruthlessly. From the moment John returned to Court, he and mortal danger were dancing hand in hand.

-:-:-

On sunny days, Arthur Golding often tutored Edward out of doors. For the last week, they'd been studying in a quiet corner of the orchard. Now, Edward sat alone with his back against an apple tree. He wondered what had detained Arthur. An insect buzzed loudly around his ear. Shooing it away, Edward opened a book and started reading Ovid to himself:

"In the beginning was the Golden Age when the earth itself untouched by the plough yielded up its fruits and all gathered the berries and wild strawberries and lived their lives in a season of everlasting spring.

"Then mankind was content, untroubled by fear, living in peace with simple delights..."

Edward heard Arthur's boots making their way through the thick summer grass. He looked up, little realizing that his childhood was about to end all too abruptly.

There were tears in Arthur's eyes. Slumping down next to Edward, he told him the terrible news from London. John had suddenly taken ill, and as suddenly, died. It took a moment or two for the significance of his tutor's words to strike home. Then, Edward threw himself into Arthur's arms, sobbing convulsively.

John's body was returned to Castle Hedingham and buried in the parish church. After the service, Edward knelt in the empty chancel beside the black marble tomb inscribed, "John de Vere, 16th Earl of Oxford (1522-1562)". Fighting back his tears, he whispered a gentle epitaph:

"He was a man, take him for all in all,

I shall not look upon his like again."

The royal attendant announced Edward's name. He stepped forward and bowed deeply to the Queen. The Earl briefly considered mentioning the last time he had found himself reading his words to Elizabeth, back in Castle Hedingham but decided against the idea. Reverentially untying the scarlet ribbons binding Castiglioine's book, he began reading his dedication aloud.

From a hidden vantage point, Burghley looked down onto Whitehall Palace's Great Hall as Edward concluded: "Lastly, this is a work which, while worthy of all monarchs, is most worthy of our own Queen, to whom alone is due all the praise of all the Muses and all the glory of literature. Given at the Royal Court on the 5th of January 1571."

Edward closed the book and, bowing, handed it to Elizabeth. Delighted, she led a round of applause. Edward took a second deep bow. John Lyly nodded approvingly. Burghley slunk angrily from his hiding place.

-:-:-

As Edward concluded the story of his ascent to royal favorite, two white swans floated into view, paddling gently down the Avon. He turned to where Anne sat surrounded by the remnants of their picnic. Leaning close, he eased her into his arms. They kissed.

An hour later, the late afternoon sun found them locked in a passionate embrace. Edward pushed things a little too far. Then he ignored Anne's mumbled protests, forcing her to wriggle free of his embrace and tug her dress back into place.

"Know you not sir, that Queen Elizabeth cools heated passions between courtiers and maids with the Tower's frigid tonic?"

"I care not Anne. I would risk a thousand Towers for you." Edward moved to kiss her again. "Thy love is better than high birth to me. Of more delight than hawks or horses be..."

Anne dodged the kiss. "Thy lips are as indiscreet as thy verse. Forbear both. I'll none of them. Better you take them to your wife."

Anne's words stung Edward like a face full of cold river water. He sat up, angrily, "You know I never see her. That loveless marriage was forced on me by Burghley."

"What mean you?"

"Nothing."

"No, my lord, what is it?"

"'Tis a personal matter, a secret."

"What manner of secret?" Anne persisted.

"You must never tell another soul," Edward said earnestly.

"I won't. I promise."