Nothing could free Elizabeth from the terror that rode her like a hag. She was a young woman in only the second year of her reign, and yet she had to decide whether or not to commit her kingdom to war against an unbeatable enemy, and the two men she trusted above all others had both left her.

Sometimes she was certain that she was making a mistake from her own cowardice; at other moments she was certain she was protecting her country from disaster; all the time she was terrified that she was making a deep and grave mistake.

“I’m going for Sir Robert,” Laetitia Knollys whispered to her mother after watching Elizabeth’s frantic turning all morning from one unfinished activity to another.

“Not without her order,” Catherine replied.

“Yes,” Laetitia insisted. “He’s the only man who can comfort her, and if she goes on like this she will make herself ill and drive us all mad.”

“Lettice!” her mother said sharply but already the girl had slipped from the room and gone to Robert’s chambers.

He was paying bills, a great money chest open before him, his steward presenting accounts and counting out coins for the huge costs of the stables.

Laetitia tapped on the door and peeped into the room.

“Mistress Knollys,” Robert said levelly. “This is an improper honor indeed.”

“It’s about the queen,” she said.

At once he leapt up, his quizzical look quite gone. “Is she safe?”

Laetitia noted that his first thought was that Elizabeth might have been attacked. So her father was right; they were all in the greatest of danger, all the time.

“She is safe, but much distressed.”

“She sent for me?”

“No. I came without being told. I thought you should come to her.”

He gave her a slow smile. “You are a most extraordinary girl,” he said. “Why did you take such a task on yourself?”

“She’s beside herself,” Laetitia confided. “It’s the war with Scotland. She can’t decide, and she has to decide. And now she has lost Cecil, and she seems to have lost you. She has no one. Sometimes she thinks ‘yes’, sometimes she thinks ‘no’, but she’s not happy with either decision. She is as jumpy as a rabbit with a ferret on its scut.”

Robert frowned at the impertinence of her language. “I’ll come,” he said. “And I thank you for telling me.”

She slid him a flirtatious smile under her dark eyelashes. “If I was the queen, I would want you at my side all the time,” she said. “War or no war.”

“And how are your wedding plans?” he asked urbanely. “Dress made? Everything ready? Groom impatient?”

“Thank you, yes,” she said, quite composed. “And how is Lady Dudley? Not ill, I hope? Coming to court soon?”


In the queen’s chambers, Elizabeth was at her seat by the fire, her ladies scattered around the room, tensely waiting for what she might next demand. Other courtiers stood about, hoping to be invited to speak with her, but Elizabeth would hear no petitions, would be distracted by no one.

Dudley came in, and at the sound of his step she turned at once. The leap of joy into her face could not be hidden. She rose to her feet: “Oh, Robert!”

Without further invitation he went up to her and drew her with him into a window bay, away from the curious stares of her ladies. “I knew you were unhappy,” he said. “I had to come. I could not stay away a moment longer.”

“How did you know?” she demanded. She could not stop herself leaning toward him. The very scent of his clothes, of his hair, was a deep comfort to her. “How did you ever know that I need you so badly?”

“Because I cannot rest without being near you,” he said. “Because I need you too. Has something upset you?”

“Cecil has left me,” she said brokenly. “I cannot manage without him.”

“I knew he had gone, of course; but why?” Robert asked, though he had received a full report from Thomas Blount on the day that Cecil left.

“He said he would not stay with me unless we made war on the French and I don’t dare, Robert, I really don’t dare, and yet how can I rule without Cecil at my side?”

“Good God, I thought he would never leave you. I thought you and he had sworn an oath.”

Elizabeth’s mouth was working. “I thought he never would,” she said. “I would have trusted him with my life. But he says he cannot serve me if I will not listen to him, and Robert …I am too afraid.”

The last words were a little thread of sound; she glanced around the room as if her fear were a most shameful secret that she could only trust to him.

Ah, it’s not just the war, he thought. Cecil is like a father to her. He’s the advisor she has trusted for years. And Cecil has a view of this country unlike any other. He really does think of it as a nation in its own right, not a motley crew of warring families which was my father’s view… mine too. Cecil’s love of England, his very belief in England, is a greater vision than mine or hers. He keeps her steady, he keeps her faithful, even if it’s nothing but a dream.

“I’m here now,” he said, as if his presence would be enough to comfort her. “We’ll talk together after dinner, and we will decide what should be done. You’re not alone, my love. I am here to help you.”

She leaned closer. “I can’t do it on my own,” she whispered to him, “It’s too much. I can’t decide, I am too afraid. I don’t know how to decide. And I never see you now. I gave you up for Scotland, and now it has cost me Cecil too.”

“I know,” Robert said. “But I will be at your side again, I’ll stand your friend. No one can blame us. The archduke has cooled of his own accord, and Arran is defeated, good for nothing. No one can say that I’m standing between you and a good marriage. And I’ll get Cecil back for you. He shall advise us and we shall decide. You don’t have to be the judge of it on your own, my love, my dearest love. I shall be with you now. I shall stay with you.”

“It can make no difference to us.” She hesitated. “I can’t be your lover ever again. I shall have to marry someone. If not this year, then next.”

“Just let me be at your side until then,” he said simply. “Neither of us can bear our lives when we are apart.”


That night at dinner the queen laughed at her fool for the first time in many weeks, and Sir Robert sat at her side once more and poured her wine.

“This wet weather has got into the very timbers of the roof,” he remarked as the servants took the meats and the puddings off the table and brought the sweetmeats and the sugared fruits. “My room is so damp, you can see the steam coming off my linen when Tamworth holds it before the fire in the morning.”

“Tell them to change your rooms,” she said lightly. “Tell the groom of the household to put you back in your old rooms beside mine.”


He waited. He knew the way forward with Elizabeth was not to press her. He decided that he would do nothing more than wait for her.

At midnight, the door between the two rooms slid open and she came quietly in. She was wearing a dark blue robe over her white shift, her red hair was brushed and shining over her shoulders.

“My Robert?”

The table before the fire was laid with supper for two, the fire was lit, the bed was turned down, the door was locked, and Tamworth, Sir Robert’s valet, was on guard outside.

“My love,” he said and took her in his arms.

She nestled close. “I cannot live without you,” she said. “We have to keep this secret, a most deep secret. But I cannot be queen without you, Robert.”

“I know,” he said. “I cannot live without you.”

She looked up at him. “What will we do?”

He shrugged his shoulders, his smile was almost rueful. “I think we have gone beyond choice. We will have to marry, Elizabeth.”

She glanced toward the window where one of the shutters stood open. “Close the shutters,” the queen said in sudden superstitious fear. “I don’t want even the moon to see us.”


In her old bedroom at Stanfield Hall Amy woke with a start and found that the covers had slid from her bed and that she was freezing cold. She reached down to her feet and grabbed the linen sheets, the woolen rugs, and pulled them up to her shivering shoulders. She had left one of the shutters open, and the moon, a big, bold, creamy moon, was laying a path of light on her pillow. She lay down and looked out of the window to the moon.

“The same moon that is shining on me is shining on my lord,” she whispered. “Perhaps it will wake him too, and make him think of me. Perhaps God will waken his love for me in his heart once more. Even now, perhaps he is thinking of me.”


“You played me as a fool!” Mary Sidney raged at her brother, striding up to him in the Whitehall Palace stable yard. He and half a dozen other men were practicing for a joust, his horse was already armed, his squire standing by with his beautifully polished breastplate, his helmet, his lance.

Robert was distracted. He snapped his fingers for his pageboy with his gauntlets. “What is it, Mary? What have I done?”

“You sent me on a fool’s errand to tell the ambassador that the queen would marry the archduke. You sent me knowing that since I believed you, since I was deeply, deeply grieved for you, that I would tell a convincing tale. I was the best person in court to send to him. D’you know I wept as I told him that you had given her up? And so of course, he believed me, and yet all along it was just a plot to throw dust in the eyes of the court.”

“What dust?” Robert was all innocence.

“You and the queen are lovers,” she spat at him. “You probably have been from the first day. You probably were lovers when I thought you were grieving for the loss of her. And you made me play pander to you.”