I am silent, thinking quickly. “And has our queen agreed to all this?”
His hesitation tells me everything.
I knew it! I knew no one had dared to tell her. She hates weddings and marriage and anything that takes her court away from her. To tell the truth, she hates not to be the center of attention, and a bride on her wedding day must rival even the Queen of England. And I swear on my life that she would never agree to see her own cousin Thomas Howard jumped up to be a rival king! Howard has always been a difficulty for her; she has never loved him as a cousin; she has always envied him his pride and his lands. She will never want to see him raised up so high. She will begrudge him his throne. I would put money on it—she would rather see him dead at her feet than have a son of his inherit her throne. This is a jealous queen, she never wants anyone else to gain wealth or power. She has to be supreme. She would never let her cousin, her young cousin, overreach her. From the moment I saw Howard’s letter of proposal I knew she would forbid the marriage as soon as she learned of it.
“She will never allow it,” I say bluntly. “And Cecil will never support anything which will make Howard King of Scotland. Cecil and Howard have been rivals for power for years. Neither Cecil nor Elizabeth will let Howard leap up to greatness. Neither of them could stomach him as a king.”
“Cecil will not rule this kingdom forever,” my husband says, surprising me with his authority. “The days of the steward in the master’s chair are done.”
“You cannot say that.”
“Yes, Bess, I can.”
“Cecil is far more than a steward. He has planned every part of Elizabeth’s reign; he has guided everything she has done. He is more than a servant. He has made England as it is today. He is her guide. Half of what she thinks has been taught to her by him.”
“No, he is not. And soon he will not be even that.”
1569, MAY, WINGFIELD MANOR: MARY
The lord of Westmorland gave me a bundle of messages from London as we rode out together and whispered the news as we rode home.
Thank God, I am saved; my future has never looked brighter. My marriage to Thomas Howard will go ahead. My ambassador, Bishop Lesley, is drawing up the agreement. The Scots lords will accept Thomas Howard as king and will restore me to my throne with him at my side. And he is a fertile man of only thirty years; he has children already. There is no doubt in my mind but we will have children together, another son for the throne of Scotland, a daughter for me to love. Howard has agreed to forward money from the Spanish to me. They will smuggle gold coin to him; he will send it on to me. I am glad of this, it is a good test of him. If he will handle Spanish gold for me, then it proves him, it proves his love for me. Also, once he receives letters in cipher from Spain and handles gold directed to me, then he has taken his first step in my cause and he will find that one step leads to another. He is no fool; he must have thought of this. He must be determined to be my husband, to be King of Scotland, and I am glad of this.
A woman once married to Bothwell could never tolerate a halfhearted man. Actually, a woman married to Bothwell will be spoiled for any other. God knows, I love his ambition. I love how he sees his opportunities. I love how he goes like an arrow to the heart of any matter. I have never known a man so brave: he would risk anything to achieve his goal. I remember the night that I ran from Edinburgh after Rizzio was killed. Darnley was with me, more like a frightened child than a husband, and we rode through the darkness, desperate to get away from the Scots lords who had killed Rizzio and would have killed me too. I remember the leap of terror I felt when we turned a corner and I saw four horsemen, blocking our way, huge across the dawn sky.
Darnley shouted, “Save yourselves!” and spurred off into the moorland. But I rode forward and then I