The Last Tudor Read online

  “I wouldn’t go to Spain!” I say desperately. “Why would I? Where would I go? The only man in the world that I would marry is here. I have no interest in the archduke or anyone else! And why should I marry a low-born Englishman? Why should I be insulted?”

  I am horrified by Janey’s gossip that they want to marry me to some nonentity and forget about me, but I feel even more afraid when I am told that the Scots lords have proposed that I should be married to my cousin the Earl of Arran, one of Elizabeth’s castoff flirts with a claim in Scotland, so that England can offer a rival Protestant queen to the rebellious Scots, and they can mass behind Arran and me, and defeat the French. They will marry me to Arran and make me Queen of Scots.

  “What am I to do?” I say to Janey. “Are they all mad? Will they never stop trying to marry me to one dreadful man after another? Did she acknowledge me as princess just to sell me in an alliance? You must tell Ned that someone is going to kidnap me, if he does not save me.”

  Ned does not rescue me; he cannot. His mother has forbidden it, and she is not a woman to be disobeyed. He does no more than look longingly at me, and walk away. Robert Dudley does nothing for me. He thinks only of himself and of Elizabeth. He is at her side every day in these dangerous times, and I think if she could not cling to him, she would lose her wits. Of course, it is William Cecil, who knows all about everything, who speaks to me. He bows very low as he comes out of the Privy Council meeting, and offers me his arm to walk along the gallery to the queen’s rooms. I flutter my fingers a little as if I would be released, but he keeps a warm gentle grip on my hand, and so we enter together, and I see from the determined upturn of Elizabeth’s painted lips that the two of them have agreed that I must be kept close, and they have choreographed a little dance for me to perform.

  “Oh! Cousin Katherine,” she says, turning away from Robert Dudley as if she is more interested in me than in him. “Dear Cousin.”

  My curtsey is as shallow as I dare to make it. “Cousin Elizabeth, Your Majesty,” I say, since we seem to be closely related today.

  “Come and sit with me,” she says, indicating the stool beside her chair. “I have hardly seen you all day.”

  There have been many days when she has managed to endure my absence, and never before have I been invited to sit with her.

  I glance to one side where Ned is watching this mumming, and his expression freezes and he looks down to the ground, as if he dare not even smile at me. He is so afraid of Elizabeth’s displeasure, and I am like a mouse under the paw of a fat ginger cat.

  “What a darling little dog!” Elizabeth exclaims.

  I look down at Jo, who presses against my feet as if she is afraid that I will follow court protocol and offer her to the queen, who looks at her with no warmth in her face.

  “I love Katherine like a daughter,” the queen says to the air over my head. Even she, great liar that she is, lacks the bravado to meet my eyes. Everyone takes in this surprising announcement with blank faces. I see the bright interested stare of the Spanish ambassador. “She is like a daughter to me,” she repeats loudly. Then, as the meaning of her words dawns on her, she softens her voice to speak to me: “You must miss your mother very much,” she says.

  I bow my head. “I do, Your Majesty,” I confirm dutifully. “She was most devoted to me and to my little sister, Mary.”

  “Oh, yes, Mary,” says the queen absently. Mary steps forward from the maids at the mention of her name and the queen nods towards her as she curtseys. Clearly, Mary is not to be bathed in affection, only me.

  Elizabeth leans forward. “You must always tell me if you feel lonely or unhappy,” she says quietly. “I know what it is to be a girl without a mother. I know what it is to be friendless at a great court.”

  I would play my part in this masque better if I knew what on earth I am supposed to do. The queen puts her heavily ringed hand on my shoulder; her fingers are cold. I wonder who is supposed to benefit from this performance. Certainly, not I.

  “I am not friendless at court, if I have your favor,” I say tentatively, looking up into her expressionless face.

  She presses her hand on my shoulder. “You do. You are very dear to me. After all, you are my closest kin.”

  That’s it then! She has named me as her closest kin. I am her heir. I am next to the throne. She has done it, and she cannot take it back. I glance up and see William Cecil is watching me. He has heard this. Indeed, he will have written the script and plotted every move.

  “And may I come to you with a request?” I gaze into her beady black eyes. There is not a flicker of true tenderness: she is making a deal with me as if we were fishwives on the quay weighing a salted cod.

  “Ask me!” she says with her false smile. “Ask me anything, and see what I will do for a loyal and loving cousin!”

  “I will,” I promise her, I promise myself, and I promise Ned in my heart.

  Robert Dudley kisses my hand with a hidden smile, as one favorite to another. William Cecil walks with me in the gallery and tells me how the war is progressing in Scotland, as if I need to know. I realize that he is teaching me the statecraft that he has studied under four reigns. He wants me to know that I must play my part as the Protestant heir to a Protestant queen. It is important that I understand that the throne is advised by the lords, that the lords share the thoughts of the parliament. I must understand that Elizabeth’s place on the throne is unsteady—half the country is yet to be convinced by our religion, the great European powers are natural enemies to us, and the Pope calls for a holy war against us. As her heir I will attract temptation, conspiracies, promises. I must report to him. I must never endanger Elizabeth. I must play my part in making a Protestant succession in a Protestant country.

  People curtsey low as I walk by, and Mary and I are allocated more ladies to wait on us. Suddenly, I need someone to carry my gloves. Mary moves out of the informal camaraderie of the maids’ rooms, and together we live in grander rooms with our own ladies-in-waiting, and we make a small court within the court, the two of us served as princesses. I dress Mr. Nozzle in a livery of Tudor green, and Jo and Ribbon have plaited collars of green silk. Ribbon wears a little bell of hammered silver and sleeps on a cushion of green velvet.

  I go everywhere in the center of a hushed storm of deferential curiosity. The wardrobe supplies me with wonderful gowns of velvets and cloth of gold. My rise to prominence brings so many questions, but there is no one whom I can safely consult. Can it be that Elizabeth has decided to wait for Robert Dudley to be free to marry, and is naming me as her heir to buy herself time? His wife may die of some illness, or old age, and Elizabeth might marry him at last. Or since she is Supreme Governor of the Church, will she use her power to declare her lover’s marriage annulled, and marry him herself? Nobody can complain of her behavior if she has given England a legitimate Protestant heir—me.

  And if so, would it not be wise to let me marry the man of my choice, an English nobleman, close to the throne, loyally reformist? Do Ned and I suddenly represent an irresistible boon to Elizabeth: royal family, Protestant convictions, and surely fertile? If I were to put a legitimate Tudor boy in the royal cradle, does that free Elizabeth to please herself? Will she end all debate by adopting my baby and giving England that rarity: a healthy Tudor boy? Do I dare to ask for Ned as the favor that she has promised me? Do I dare to summon Ned to my new rooms and speak to him in front of everyone?

  Elizabeth continues to single me out for her affections. I sit at the head of the ladies’ table at dinner, while Mary is raised on a cushion at the other end. Only I am to carry the queen’s fan in the evening, only I hold her gloves as we walk together to the stables. I have a new horse; when we go hawking, I have a falcon on my fist. I play cards with her, and at chapel I kneel behind her to pray. Undoubtedly, I am being groomed to inherit. The Spanish ambassador steps back from our secret conversations, but his bow is very deferential. Robert Dudley gives me his hidden seductive smile. Ned meets my eyes acr