Cate of the Lost Colony - Lisa Klein [38]
I thought back to the night I had sat before the fire with the letters in my hand. “Perhaps I did and was too tired to remember it,” I mused. “For they did cost me many a sleepless night.”
But still I was doubtful and tense, as if on tenterhooks. Fortunately the queen was too occupied with matters of state to notice a distracted maid. Her Privy Council was pressing her to decide the fate of the Scottish queen. Every day brought new rumors that Mary had escaped from prison or the Spaniards had invaded England. I thought Elizabeth would break down with the strain. One night she screamed in her sleep and we all rushed to her chamber in fear, only to discover that she was having a nightmare about her cousin.
I had a nightmare, too, in which pages of the missing letters and poems fluttered around me. I tried to catch them and hide them under my skirt while the faces of Frances, Anne, Lady Veronica, Dick Tarleton, and even Emme leered at me and Sir Walter danced with the queen. I awoke with tears on my cheeks, feeling alone and despairing. At least the Scottish queen, though betrayed by a letter, had loyal friends about her.
Indeed I pitied the poor Queen Mary. Elizabeth finally signed the warrant for her death, and on the eighth day of February she was beheaded in Northamptonshire. I noted the date because it was my birthday, which should have been a joyful occasion. But the celebrations that broke out all over London, with bursting fireworks and burning effigies, only filled me with grief for the dead queen. Yes, she had conspired against England’s sovereign queen. But I, too, might take such desperate measures in order to free myself from prison. How had Mary borne it for twenty years?
I had served the queen now for almost four years, and what had I to show for it? A nickname. Some nice clothing, daily food, and a bed to sleep in. Yet I hardly felt secure. Constant worry attended me. I had seen my mistress shift her favors like a weathercock whirled around by contrary winds. I had few friends and the court was a stewpot of envy, backbiting, and deceit. Now someone near me held a dangerous secret—a bundle of poems and an embroidered handkerchief—that could ruin me and Sir Walter. His downfall would be the result of my own carelessness.
After Queen Mary’s death there was no rejoicing in Elizabeth’s chambers. Her eyes were puffy with weeping and lack of sleep. One morning while we were dressing her, she tore off her ruff and threw it at me.
“Take this damned frill from my neck. It torments me!”
I had starched the thing to a perfect stiffness, but the narrow sticks sewn into the ruff had poked her, leaving red marks on her neck.
“And take this gown off me. I will wear black for my cousin.”
Emme and Frances hurried off to the wardrobe while Lady Veronica and I undressed the queen. She stood shivering in her smock.
“I shall have to answer to God for this,” she whispered to her reflection in the glass.
“Hers was the sin. Your Majesty is just,” murmured Veronica.
“My councilors tricked me,” Elizabeth continued, giving no sign that she had heard Veronica. “The warrant was delivered without my knowledge. Walsingham always wanted her dead. It was his doing.”
I was stunned. Had Walsingham defied Elizabeth and murdered the Scottish queen? How could he have dared to do so?
Elizabeth started. “Say nothing to anyone,” she said sharply. “Forget those words, which came from my grief.” She turned from her glass and looked closely at Veronica, then at me. “I may trust my own ladies, may I not? You will never lie to me?” Her tone was more pleading than commanding.
As she stood there without her wig or her makeup, I saw her simply as a woman like any of us, but older, with bad teeth and graying hair.
“You know I am true,” Veronica assured her.
The words stuck in my throat, but I forced them out. “Nor will I deceive Your Majesty, for I love you.” And I bent down to retrieve her cast-off garments.
When the queen summoned me to her chamber one evening, I expected her to request a cordial or a cup of milk or a book from her library.