Norfolk rose from the supper table at which they sat and, throwing himself upon his knees before her, assured her that his one wish was to serve her, and that he had no intention of making any marriage which should not be in accordance with her wishes.

He left, relieved that he had emerged from a difficult situation with safety. But the matter did not end there. Mary began to write letters to him; and into those letters it seemed that she infused some of that charm of which he had heard so much. She was an adulteress, he believed; he suspected her of murder; but he became more and more fascinated, not only by Scotland’s crown, but by Scotland’s Queen.

In spite of Elizabeth’s objections, the lords would not abandon the idea of the marriage, for it seemed to them the only means of avoiding war with the great Catholic countries, France and Spain, who were ever watching, seeking an opportunity to overthrow Protestant England. The Netherlands were in a sorry state and, once they were completely subdued by the iron hand of Alba and the Inquisition, it might be that Alba’s next task in the establishment of the Catholic Faith throughout the world would be to subdue England. There was one way of holding off that calamity: Promise the succession to Mary Queen of Scots and, to ensure her good behavior, give her a good English husband, a man who could be trusted as they believed they could trust the Duke of Norfolk. The project was the hope of the Catholics in England, and of these there were many.

These peers believed that if they could get rid of Cecil and his party they could achieve this object, for Cecil was upholding the Queen in her objections to the match.

A conspiracy was set on foot to depose Cecil and, because many remembered what had happened to Thomas Cromwell in the days of the Queen’s father, they had the axe in mind for Cecil.

Robert, who had somewhat half-heartedly thrown in his lot with the opponents of Cecil, was chosen as the man to lay the proposition before the Queen. He chose a meeting of the Council to do this; and he pointed out to her that it was the considered opinion of those of her ministers who were not of Cecil’s party, that his policy was leading England toward danger. This policy had, it was felt, so far alienated England from France and Spain, that the only way in which the damage might be remedied was to offer Cecil as a sacrifice to Catholic opinion abroad.

Never had Robert seen the Queen in such a rage.

“These are not my father’s days!” she cried. “I do not send my ministers to the block to make way for others who fancy their rewards! If Cecil is against the marriage of Mary of Scotland to Norfolk, then so is Cecil’s mistress! And you, my lords, should look to your own ways, for it may well be that you will find yourselves in the sort of trouble you plan for Cecil. As for the Queen of Scots, she had better have a care or she may find some of her friends shorter by a head!”

It was clear that the enraged lioness was going to protect her cub Cecil, and that if the lords were to go on with their project, they must do so in secret.

Shortly after that meeting there was a plan to arrest Cecil out of hand, but Robert, who knew of their plans, was alarmed. He was aware of the Queen’s nature; he knew how furious she would be if her ministers acted against her orders and her well-known wishes. He knew that she was a woman who, having once given her loyalty, was not lightly to be turned from it. Cecil had been her good friend; if he had failed in his policy—and the Queen would not admit that he had—he had served her faithfully.

Robert therefore disengaged himself from the plotters and warned them that, unless they desisted, he would have no alternative but to tell the Queen what they intended to do. Cecil himself came to the rescue by offering to modify his attitude; he declared that if the Queen consented to the marriage he would not stand against it.

The Queen of Scots was a born schemer. She could not wait for the propitious moment. She was binding Norfolk more closely to her. Robert saw what was happening. He knew that if there was a rising—and he believed that Norfolk, under the influence of Mary, might be foolish enough to attempt one—civil war would sweep the land; and he, having sided with those who were for the marriage, might be perilously involved.

Elizabeth was his Queen and his love; he would never work with any against her. He felt his position to be dangerous, however, and that it was necessary for him to have an immediate audience with the Queen.

Even so, if he put his case frankly before her, he could not be sure that Elizabeth would entirely acquit him of mischievous dabbling. He knew his Queen better than any one else did; so he retired to his bed in his manor at Tichfield.

It was not necessary to feign sickness, for he was sick with anxiety. He sent a messenger to the Queen, telling her that he thought he was dying and that he must see her before he left this world.

Then he lay back on his pillows, rehearsing his apologies while he waited for the coming of the Queen.

Elizabeth was with her women when the message was brought to her. She rose, and they noticed how she swayed a little. Robert dying! It was impossible. She would not allow it. Her sweet Robin, her Eyes, the man she would love until she died! They were too young to part. There must be many years left for them to be together.

Kat was beside her. “Bad news, Your Majesty?”

“We must leave at once for Tichfield.”

“My lord of Leicester?”

“He is ill … asking for me.”

Kat turned pale. She more than any knew of her mistress’s feelings for that man. It would break Elizabeth’s heart if aught happened to him.

“Do not stand staring!” cried the Queen. “ We will set out at once. We will take doctors and simples … elixirs which must bring him back to health.”

As she rode to Tichfield, she thought of all he had meant to her. She could not get out of her mind the memory of his face behind the prison bars in the Beauchamp Tower.

She hurried to his bedchamber. The sight of him in his bed, wan and exhausted, hurt her profoundly. She knelt by his bed and, taking his limp hand, covered it with kisses.

“Leave me,” she said to Kat and those who had accompanied her. “I would be alone with my lord.”

“Robert,” she said when they had all gone. “My dearest Eyes, what ails you, my sweet Robin?”

He murmured: “Your Majesty, it was good of you to come to sweeten my going.”

“Do not speak of it. It shall not be. I’ll not allow it. You shall be nursed back to health. I myself will nurse you.”

“I, your humble servant, have called you to my bedside …”

“God’s Body!” she cried. “My humble servant indeed! You are my Robert, are you not? There are times when I seem to be the humble servant.”

“Dearest lady, I must not waste the time that is left to me. I must talk with you. There is a plot afoot and I do not hold myself guiltless. I believed that it would be good for England if Norfolk married Mary. Dearest, I feared your life to be in danger while the succession was unsettled.”

“Have done with the succession. It is a bogey that haunts you.”

“Nay, ’tis not so. I fear now that Your Majesty may be in danger. Norfolk makes plans, I fear, in secret with the Queen of Scots. Many of your lords are involved in this … as I myself have been. They meant no treason. They fear Your Majesty to be in danger. Their plan is no more than to restore Mary to Scotland with a good friend of England as her husband, and to satisfy France and Spain by proclaiming Mary your successor.”

“I see, I see,” she said.

“Then I am forgiven for the part I played in this—though I was thinking only of my dearest lady’s safety? Then I am to die happy?”

She bent over him and kissed him. “If there was aught to forgive, my darling, it is forgiven.”

“Now I shall die happy.”

“You’ll do no such thing!”

He smiled at her wanly. “I know, dear lioness, that it is forbidden to speak of death in your presence. There again I crave your pardon. You are strong. You are impatient of death. You are immortal.”

“Come,” she said, with a “pup” of her lips, “we are going to get you well. I myself shall see to that.”

Then she called to her women. She would try her physician’s new medicine. It should cure my lord of Leicester. She commanded him to be cured.

“Already,” said Kat, “he seems miraculously recovered. He looks almost himself.”

“Her Majesty’s presence at my bedside is more health-giving than any elixir,” he murmured.

Elizabeth set about restoring him to health; but meanwhile she sent a messenger to Norfolk bidding him return to Court.

Norfolk was now in the Tower.

Elizabeth’s ministers were of the opinion that Norfolk was loyal to her, but had been led astray, and that he might be released with a warning not to dabble in treasonable matters again.

But the Queen was unsure. She insisted that they wait awhile, keeping him a prisoner while they waited.

Norfolk had many friends at Court, and some of these smuggled messages to him concealed in bottles of wine. This trick was discovered, and the Queen, declaring that Norfolk was guilty of treason, summoned Cecil to her.

“Now, Master Cecil,” she said, “we have proof of his treason.”

“How so, Madam?” asked Cecil.

“These letters which have been sent to him in bottles. What better proof?”

“They prove nothing except that he received messages in bottles, Your Majesty.”

The Queen merely glared at her minister.

“Madam, I will send you the statute of Edward III in which there is clear statement of what does and what does not constitute treason.”