Free Roses Have Thorns: A Novel of Elizabeth I by Sandra Byrd Page B

cousin, as is the Queen of Scots. It’s understandable that she be saddened. But there is no reason for shock. I do not believe that Queen Mary had a hand in her husband’s death.”
    Later, after I was abed, it came to me that Eleanor could not have overheard the messenger mention that the Queen of Scots was suspected, as she had been playing gleek well across the great room.
    •   •   •
    If Her Majesty was shocked and saddened on that February eve, she was shocked and angry in May when word filtered south that Queen Mary had married the Earl of Bothwell, largely believed to have murdered Lord Darnley so he could marry Darnley’s wife, the queen.
    “Has she lost all sensibilities?” the queen asked as she paced in her chamber. “She has gambled credibility as well as the affections of her people, which must never be treated lightly.”
    The ambassador brought news that the Scots were arming themselves against Mary after her marriage to a murderer and that she would soon be deposed in favor of her young son.
    That night, I heard whispering at the banquet tables while we ate. As few talked with me, I heard quite a lot. The queen rarely ate in public, which meant that most meals were free for courtierdiscussion. There was a name infrequently circulated in the banqueting hall that I did not know.
    I asked Clemence that night, “Who is Amy Robsart?”
    Clemence immediately stopped brushing my hair and caught my eye for a moment over the top of my head, in the looking glass. I had the sense that if she could have avoided the question altogether she would have, but William paid her handsome wages not only to attend to my physical needs but to answer questions such as I might need to know in order to better serve the queen.
    “Amy was married to Lord Robert Dudley,” she answered.
    “And she has now passed away?” I asked.
    Clemence picked the brush up. “Yes, many years past. She was found at the bottom of a flight of stairs in a manor home, after all the servants had been dismissed for the day.”
    It was my turn to be startled now. “Was she murdered?”
    “The inquiry says no, ma’am, but the people . . . they think yes.”
    “And who do the people say murdered Lady Dudley?” I asked.
    “Why, Lord Robert himself!” Clemence said. “So as he could marry Her Majesty,” she continued, her voice lowered. “Though others say ’twas his noble enemies, because with one wife mysteriously dead, the people would never accept him as king, now, would they? When Her Majesty’s sister, Queen Mary, married a man the people did’na like, they turned against her. Though all know the queen desires to marry Lord Robert, she dares not, lest she lose the favor of her people.”
    I instantly understood that night’s whispers connecting Amy Robsart to Mary, Queen of Scots, her dead husband, Lord Darnley, and Bothwell.
    “Is that all, my lady?”
    “Yes, Clemence. And please rest assured that I will hold to faithanything you say to me. I shall not share what I learn with others, nor speak of our talk.”
    She relaxed then and smiled at me before helping me polish my skin with a paste of ground almonds and water.
    •   •   •
    In August William left with the Earl of Sussex to Austria, to present the Order of the Garter to the emperor; in truth, they were also going to offer the queen’s hand to the archduke. Within months came a response to Her Majesty that while the archduke was eager to marry Her Majesty, he could not in good conscience agree to forgo his Catholicism and embrace Protestantism, a requirement she was not willing to negotiate. With regret, the discussions concluded without good fruit. Her Majesty sorrowed for days and I noticed her occasionally stroking her stomacher, as if mourning a lost child not yet conceived, perhaps an heir.
    William returned home, and we hosted an evening at his manor in London. The queen attended, as did most of the nobility. I had been in England for better