"If I were in his place ..." muttered Rob, clenching his fist in a manner which made me laugh tenderly and happily. It was wonderful to have such a champion.

"You have lived overlong in the country," I told him. "Leicester owes his fame and fortune to her ... and so will you."

"I! You will never make a courtier of me. I prefer a life of dignity in the country. I learned that in Burleigh's household. To see a wise old statesman like that tremble at the command of a woman! No, it is not for me. I will keep my freedom, my independence. I will live my life my own way."

"I doubt not you will do that, my son. But you do understand, do you not, that your mother wants the best for you."

He turned to me then and embraced me. My love for him overwhelmed me.

Then Leicester arrived, all charm and bonhomie.

"What a pleasure it gives me to see you," he cried. "Why, you are indeed a man. I wish for us to grow better acquainted. You are my stepson now, remember, and families should cling together."

"I agree with that," said Essex sharply. "It is wrong that a husband should be at Court when his wife is not received there."

I was aghast. Essex, I knew well, had never been one to consider his words, but he must know something of Leicester's power and how unwise it was to offend him. Hadn't he read Leicester's Commonwealth! I did not believe he would harm my son, but no man should make an enemy of Leicester.

"You don't know the Queen's temper, Rob," I said quickly.

"Nor do I want to," he retorted.

I could see that it was not going to be easy to persuade him.

As always I had to admire Leicester's tact. It was obvious how he had managed to hold his place at Court. He smiled indulgently, giving no sign that this green boy, who was clearly ignorant of Court matters, irritated him. He was patient and gentle, and I believed Essex was a little bewildered by him. I could see his opinion changing as Leicester talked easily and affably, and then listened with rapt attention to my son's views. I admired him as much as I ever had and, as I watched the two of them together, I thought how fortunate I was to have two such men holding such a place in my life—Leicester, a name to inspire awe and respect throughout the country; and Essex ... ? Perhaps one day his would be the same.

In that moment I could snap my fingers at the Queen. Leicester might dance to her tune, but only because she was the Queen. I was his wife. I was the woman he loved. And in addition I had this wonderful son. Leicester and Essex. What more could any woman ask?

I realized that Essex was asking himself where was the villain of Leicester's Commonwealth and, in his impulsive way, dismissing this work as nonsensical libel. Watching them, I thought how different they were ... these two Earls of mine. Leicester so clever, so subtle, speaking usually with exceeding caution—and Essex, hotheaded, never pausing to think what effect his words and actions might have.

Knowing so well their natures, I did not find it surprising that, within a short time, Leicester had persuaded Essex to go to Court.

I was resentful, of course, that I should have been excluded from that first presentation. How I should have enjoyed watching those hawk's eyes studying my handsome son.

But I had to hear it secondhand.

Penelope, who was present, told me.

"Of course, we were all anxious because she would immediately think of his being your son."

"Oh, she still hates me as much as ever."

Penelope did not answer that. She meant that she did.

"There was a moment when it seemed that she was uncertain. 'Madam,' said Leicester, all charm and smiles, 'I wish to ask the favor of presenting, my stepson, the Earl of Essex.' She looked at him sharply and for a moment did not speak. I thought she was going to burst into a tirade."

"Against the She-Wolf," I commented.

"Then Essex came forward. He is so tall and he has that haughty look ... but that stoop of his is not without appeal. He has a way when meeting a woman—so courteous, gentle almost, I have seen it with the humblest serving wench. One thing we do know, my lady. He likes women. And the Queen is a woman. It was as though something flashed between them. I have seen it before with her and men she is going to favor. She held out her hand and he kissed it with great charm. Then she smiled and said: 'Your father was a good servant. I regret his death. It was too soon... .' She had him sit beside her and she asked him questions about the country."

"And he? Was he gracious?"

"He was overcome by her. You know her well. You may hate and rail against her in private ..."

"It must be in private," I commented ironically.

"Certainly, if one is wise. But even hating her, one cannot help but be aware of her greatness. Essex was aware of it. His haughtiness dropped from him. It was almost as though he was falling in love with her. It is what she expects from men and they all feign to be dazzled by her charm, but Essex would never pretend, would he, so with him it must have been genuine."

I said: "So your brother seems to have been taken into the intimate circle."

Penelope was thoughtful. "It might well be. He is very young, but the older she grows the more she likes the younger men."

"But this is strange indeed. The son of the woman she hates more than anyone else."

"He is handsome enough to overcome that obstacle," replied Penelope. "But perhaps it is part of the attraction."

I felt myself grow cold with sudden fear. She had taken to my son. Did she know how much I loved him? Sooner or later he would betray to her that there was a special bond between us. He would never stoop to subterfuge to keep her favor as Leicester had done. He would defend me if my name were mentioned. He would not allow her to insult me in his presence.

I was deeply apprehensive.

According to Leicester, Essex had made a good impression on the Queen; she was turning away from the upstart Raleigh towards my son. He amused her. He was different from the others-young, brash, outspoken.

Oh, my beloved son, I thought, have I allowed Leicester to lead you into her web?

Being immersed in my personal affairs and exiled from Court, I had allowed myself to become oblivious of many clouds which were beginning to form over the country.

For so many years I had heard talk of those menaces: The Queen of Scots—about whom there were constant plots to put her on the throne and depose Elizabeth—and the Spanish enemy. I had come to accept them as facts of life. I think this applied to a great many of my countrymen and women; but certainly in the minds of the Queen and Leicester they were ever present.

My exile from Court was like a canker in my heart, particularly now that Essex was there. It was not that I wanted smiles from the Queen; I merely wanted to be there—a firsthand observer. There was small satisfaction in riding through the streets, clad like a queen, and entertaining people in my splendid houses where I could only learn of Court matters through others. So I yearned to be there, and it seemed as though I never would. That was her revenge on me.

Leicester talked often of the Queen of Scots. He wavered between seeking her favor and eliminating her altogether. While she lived, he said, there would be little peace for him or Elizabeth. He feared that one day one of the many plots on her behalf might be successful; in which case those who had supported and adhered to Elizabeth would be most unpopular with the new Queen. And he would be at the head of those to be deposed from power. Stripped from his power and his riches, he would doubtless be sent to the Tower to emerge only to his execution.

Once when we lay in bed together, and he was languorous and not mindful of his words, he said he had advised the Queen to have Mary strangled, or better still poisoned.

"There are poisons," he said, "which leave little trace ... and in due course none at all. It would be a mercy to the country and the Queen if Mary were not there. While she is, there will always be danger. At any time one of the many plots could succeed, despite all our efforts."

Poison! I thought. It leaves no trace ... in due course. There was time enough for those traces to have disappeared when the search was made for them.

Oh, I was haunted by Leicester's Commonwealth.

I wondered whether the Queen ever talked to him of me when they were alone. I wondered if she ever said: "You were too hasty, Robin. If you had waited, I might have married you."

She was capable of that. She would be prepared to talk longingly of marriage now with a man who was not free to marry her. I could imagine her taunting him: "You lost a crown when you married that She-Wolf, Robin. But for her, I could marry you now. I might have made a king of you. How well a crown would look on those graying locks."

I could not stop thinking of Amy Robsart.

When I went to Cornbury in Oxfordshire, I passed Cumnor Place. I did not go in, for that would have created gossip. But I should have liked to see the staircase down which Amy had fallen.

It haunted me, that staircase; and sometimes when I was about to descend a long flight of stairs I would look furtively over my shoulder.

I was mentioning that we had the ever-present menace of the Queen of Scots and the Spaniards. There was alarming talk at this time that Philip of Spain was building a great fleet of ships with which he intended to attack us. We were working feverishly in our dockyards; men like Drake, Raleigh, Howard of Effingham, and Frobisher were buzzing around the Queen like so many bees urging her to prepare for the Spaniards.