Jean Plaidy - The Murder in the Tower: The Story of Frances, Countess of Essex
This was the occasion when her elder son would be invested with the title, Prince of Wales.
James looked on with amusement. Such frivolities were scarcely in his line; but it was better for his subjects to spend their time in masking than in plotting. The Queen was happy, and he liked to see her so. As for his children, he was proud of them—every one of them; and now that little Charles was walking like a normal boy and had almost overcome the impediment in his speech, he reckoned he could forget the four they had lost, in the three they had. Such a handsome trio too. Where did they get their good looks? From their paternal grandmother, he supposed. That was it. The beauty of Mary Queen of Scots had missed her son and passed on to her grandchildren.
James called on the Queen, knowing that it would be a pleasant call at such a time. He found her in the center of a bustle, ordering her women to do this and that; almost hysterical, he thought, in her excitement.
“Well, my dear,” said James, “one would think this was all in honor of you.”
She turned to him, her eyes shining and for a moment he felt old sentiments stirring; she looked like the young girl whom he had crossed the seas to woo. It occurred to him that he had grown old and Anne had stayed young. He did not envy her. Poor creature, he thought, she has the mind of a child.
“It is to honor me,” she cried. “When I see my beautiful one given these honors, they will be mine too.”
“You love the boy,” said James with a smile, “and so do I, for all that he sets himself against me.”
Anne looked petulant. “Henry would never set himself against Your Majesty if—”
“If I acted in a manner which would win his approval? He is but sixteen, wife. I’m a little more than that. Much as I should like to please you—and him—I must still make my own decisions. But enough of that. Tell me of this masque. Is Jonson giving us some fine poetry, eh? I like that man’s work. And Daniel’s too. And what of Inigo?”
“You will see all in good time,” Anne told him. “And I have a surprise for you. He is very excited about it. I do hope he won’t be too excited. After all it is but a short time since—”
“Charles?”
She pouted. “There, you have guessed and ’twill be no surprise.”
“Dinna fret. I’ll store the little matter at the back of my mind and be astonished when I see him. It gives me pleasure every time I set eyes on that boy.”
Anne’s petulance disappeared and her face was almost beautiful in her maternal love. “It is a miracle,” she said. “I cannot thank Lady Carey enough. She has given so much to him.”
“We’ll not forget her for it.”
“She has been rewarded, but her greatest reward is to look at him. I could not have done more myself. She gave him the confidence, the tenderness, the love. Oh James, I love that woman, although she usurped my place. I should have been the one.”
James patted her hand. “But ye’re too much of a mother to be jealous of her. What matters it? The task was done. And I’m to see young Charles dance at his brother’s ceremony, eh?”
“But it was to be a secret, James!”
“Oh, aye, I mind that. There’ll be no one more astounded to see Charlie dance than the King of England.”
Prince Henry, who had his own private establishment at Richmond, came by state barge to Westminster.
It was a glorious May day and the river was as smooth as silk. Lady-smocks and cuckoo flowers decorated the banks and there was pink apple blossom in the orchards of those gardens which ran down to the water. Henry was no longer a boy, being sixteen; old enough to be given the first title under the King: Prince of Wales.
His mind was filled with ideals as he sailed down the river on that day; the spires and steeples of the capital touched him with emotion. One day he would be ruler of this land; and he was determined to make it great. He would devote himself to the task of kingship. He would be zealous, yet modest. He would choose his ministers with care; he would dismiss men such as Northampton, whom he suspected of working for Spain, and Suffolk and his wife who he knew used their positions to enrich themselves; there would be no room at Court for men such as Robert Carr. On the other hand his first task would be to release his dear friend Sir Walter Raleigh from the Tower. Such men who had proved their worth should be his premier advisers. England would be a different country under him. And today, this solemn ceremony would be the first step toward the change. Life could not stand still. He was young yet, but this day he would cease to be a boy and become a man of consequence to his country.
On some of the attendant barges sweet music was being played; the Lord Mayor and authorities of the City accompanied him; and the river was crowded with smaller craft, for on such an occasion all those who possessed a boat must be out to pay homage to the young man who they believed would one day be their King.
Arriving at Westminster, the Prince’s barge drew up at that jetty known as the Queen’s Bridge. It had been erected by Edward the Confessor and led to Anne’s apartments in Westminster Palace. Henry bowed and smiled to the applause of the people, and when he eventually reached his mother’s privy chamber she was waiting to embrace him with tears of pride in her eyes.
“My beloved son,” she cried, “this is in truth the happiest day of my life.”
It was a few days later when Henry was introduced by his father to the Houses of Parliament which were assembled to see the heir to the throne created Prince of Wales.
As soon as this solemn ceremony was over it was the signal for the pageantry to begin; and in one of the rooms of the Palace several young women were chattering excitedly as they awaited their cue to take their places.
These were reckoned to be the loveliest of the Court ladies and it had been decided that each should represent a river of England. Among them was one, much younger than the others and more vivacious; this was the fourteen-year-old Countess of Essex.
Frances had plagued her parents until they allowed her to come to Court; though fourteen, she reminded them she was a married woman and, having glimpsed something of the excitements of Court life, she would be driven mad by melancholy if she were forced to spend many more days in the country.
Her father, the Earl of Suffolk, was indulgent. Poor Frances, she was much too gay to be expected to sulk in the country. Let her come. His wife was agreeable. She herself had matured early and believed this would be the case with Frances. The child was safely married, even though her marriage had not been consummated and her husband was far from home. Let her come to Court.
Thus the nymph of the River Lea took her place among the others, and secretly she was delighted because she knew that she could attract attention even among such beauties.
She studied them dispassionately. Were they such beauties? There was the Lady Arabella Stuart—a very important lady, it was true. But she’s quite ancient! thought Frances. She must be thirty-five. Thirty-five and unmarried! Poor Arabella Stuart, whom the King watched constantly and did not like much because of her nearness to the throne. There had been plots involving her, and James would never allow her to have a husband.
I wouldn’t change places with Arabella Stuart, royal though she may be, thought Frances. Arabella on this occasion was the nymph of the Trent. She was preoccupied, and Frances had heard it whispered that she was in love with William Seymour and determined not to lose him, in spite of the fact that the King would certainly forbid the match.
Frances shrugged aside the affairs of that ancient one. Those of Frances Howard were—or soon would be—far more interesting.
There was no one so beautiful as she was. Certainly not Elizabeth Grey—the nymph of the Medway because she was the daughter of the Earl of Kent—nor the Countess of Arundel—nymph of Arun. There was one though who was attracting most attention, and that was the Princess Elizabeth, who represented the Thames.
But that is only because she is the King’s daughter, Frances told herself scornfully.
The Lady Anne Clifford had noticed Frances pirouetting this way and that and came over to her smiling.
“It is your first Court occasion,” she said.
“How did you know.”
“You are so excited.”
Frances clasped her hands. “Is it not wonderful to be at Court?”
Anne laughed and said: “Take care. You are too young to come to Court.”
“I am fourteen.”
“So young? I had thought you a little older.”
Frances was delighted. “It is such a handicap to seem a child!”
“You must be watchful. There are people at Court who would be ready to take advantage of one so young.”
“What people?”
“Men.”
Frances laughed scornfully. “I shall be the one to take advantage of them.”
Several of the ladies laughed, and agreed that there was something about the nymph of Lea to suggest that she would take care of herself.
In the great hall beautiful scenery had been set up; there were to be several scenes, and the first represented Milford Haven and the arrival of Henry VII. Songs, written by the poets especially for the occasion, were sung, extolling the beauties of the rivers; and all the nymphs were mentioned in turn as they took their places in the dance.
Frances was intoxicated with happiness.
“The beauteous nymph of crystal streaming Lea …” sang the musicians and for one moment everyone in that great hall was looking toward Frances Howard.
Too soon the charm of Anne Clifford, the nymph of Aire, was being acclaimed, but the words about the nymph of Lea went on and on in Frances’s mind.
As she danced with the others after the fashion which they had practiced together, she tried to get as near as possible to that spot where the Prince sat beside his father.
He too had become older since she had last seen him; he was no longer a boy.
He had noticed her, she was sure of it. Every time she took a sly look at him, he was watching.
This is the happiest moment of my life … so far, Frances told herself.
Anne, the Queen, assured those surrounding her that it was the happiest of hers, for now the nymphs had stood aside and little Zephyr had appeared. His green satin robe was decorated with gold flowers, and wings made of silver lawn were attached to his back. A wreath of flowers had been placed on his flowing hair and Anne’s eyes sought the valuable diamond bracelet which she had put on his little arm when she went to see him being dressed.
With him were his naiads, lovely children with their hair hanging loose, garlanded like Zephyr, dressed in pale blue tunics decorated with silver flowers.
The children made a charming sight, particularly as they danced so skillfully to the music which had been written for the occasion.
Applause broke out and there was a whisper of astonishment, for Zephyr, who now danced so elegantly, was none other than the ten-year-old little Prince Charles who, a few years ago, had been unable to walk and in danger of having his legs put into iron supports.
Lady Carey who was standing near the Queen, was weeping, although she did not seem to be aware of it; Anne reached out and taking her hand, pressed it.
“Your Majesty …” whispered Lady Carey.
But Anne put her fingers to her lips and whispered: “Well done. I shall never forget.”
The scene of Milford Haven had been withdrawn and another even more striking was presented to view. Waterfalls were visible about a grotto, and in this grotto was a throne on which sat Tethys, daughter of Uranus and wife of Oceanus. This was none other than Queen Anne herself, who was always delighted to play a part in the pageantry. For days she had thought of little but the costume she would wear, and it was truly striking. On her head was a helmet in the shape of a shell; it was decorated with coral and a veil of silver floated from it. Her gown was blue silk, traced with silver seaweed; and her magnificent blue and silver train was draped about her throne.
Seated at her feet were the river nymphs. Frances had placed herself in the most prominent position, and every now and then threw a glance in Prince Henry’s direction, for, she told herself, was it not all in honor of him, and should not every river nymph among them seek to please him?
The poem which was being recited explained what was happening.
Little Zephyr would now take presents from Tethys and present them to those for whom they were intended.
Gracefully he walked to the Queen, who handed him the trident she carried and whispered to him. Charles carried it to his father and bowed. James took it awkwardly; and Charles returned to his mother once more and received the sword, which was encrusted with precious gems and was said to be worth four thousand pounds, and a scarf which the Queen herself had embroidered. These were for her beloved son who was now the Prince of Wales.
The assembly applauded enthusiastically and little Charles held up his hand as he had been taught to do, to remind them that this was not all; he then returned to his mother and kneeling, implored her in a high, sweet voice, with only the slightest stammer, to come down from her throne and dance, for the Court’s enjoyment, with her river nymphs.
The Queen pretended to consider this while Charles, beckoning to his little naiads, took the floor and once more danced with his charming companions.
Then the Queen rose and the girls who had been ranged about her in the grotto fell into place about her. She led the way and they danced the stately quadrille which they had practiced together for many days.
Anne in her shell-helmet and her blue and silver gown looked ecstatic. She was completely happy. It seemed to her on that day that she had all that she desired. She herself the center of the dance; James looking on, a little bored but tolerant, understanding that it was necessary from time to time to have such pageants; her beloved eldest, now the Prince of Wales; her daughter a charming, docile girl; her youngest, over whose state she had shed many tears, now a normal boy, promising to be as handsome as his brother.
Oh, thought Anne, that this day might last forever!
Robert Carr, who was seated with the King, found his attention wandering from the dancing. He was turning over in his mind something which James had said to him recently. Why did he not find himself a clever scribe?
Easier said than done. Where could Robert find such a man? But how inviting was the suggestion. The King’s secretary! One of the most important of posts—particularly if a man enjoyed the King’s favor. It was only his lack of ability which was keeping him from reaching the top of his ambition. James was ready to bestow on him anything he wished; but how could even James give him a post which all those about him would know he was inadequate to fulfill?
