“Your Majesty …” There was a certain protest in his voice. I suddenly had a picture of Robert lying mortally wounded on a stretch of grass with a triumphant Heneage standing over him and I could not bear it. I brought up my hand and gave Heneage a stinging blow about the head.

I watched the red blood flow into his face; he put up his hand and I was rather sorry for him. After all this had all come about through their feelings for me and if it was ambition which prompted them rather than love, I could not blame them for that.

“There, Master Heneage, you may go, and next time prate not so freely of using your sword against another of my subjects, wreaking damage on him… and yourself.”

He went out shamefacedly and feeling sorry for him I called out: “I like to see you too well at my Court, Master Heneage. Remember that.”

The smile came back to his face. He bowed as he retired; and I did not think he would dare challenge Robert again.

Then I sent for Robert.

If he had come humbly I think I should have forgiven him and then asked him outright about his affair with Lettice, banished her from Court and taken him back; but he was truculent. In a way I would not have had him pleading, and although part of me wanted him to, I was glad there was nothing mealy-mouthed about Robert. He flattered me; perhaps he professed to love me more than he did; but if part of that love was for the crown, there was still a large measure for me alone.

He was sullen, aloof, proud, telling me quite clearly that although I was the Queen he considered himself my equal—and that was something I would not endure.

I said: “So you think fit to flout my rules and brawl with Heneage?”

“I cannot submit to insults from such men.”

“Such men? What mean you? Heneage is a worthy member of my Court.”

“If Your Majesty thinks so…”

“I do think so. I tell you I think so.”

He lifted his shoulders almost contemptuously and I thought: This is what comes of showing too much favor to one man. This arrogant Robert needs a lesson and by God's Blood he shall have it.

“I have wished you well,” I cried and my voice grew louder as I continued: “But my favor is not so locked up in you that others may not have a share of it. I have other servants besides my Lord Leicester. I would have you remember, Master Dudley, that there is one mistress here and no master. I have raised up some, but they can as surely be lowered, and so they shall be if they assume an arrogant impudence because once they enjoyed my favor.”

Robert was stunned. I admit now that I was a little, too. I was angry and deeply hurt, to see him standing there so far apart from me, his face as handsome in anger as it ever was. I almost put my arms about him and promised him that I would marry him after all.

But the sterner side of me said no. Have you not seen what happens to a man when a little power passes into his hands? What did Melville say of you: You will brook no commander. Remember it, for Melville is right.

So I stood there and for a few moments we stared coldly at each other in silence.

Then he spoke quietly and said: “Your Majesty, I ask your permission to retire from Court.”

“You have it,” I said, “and the sooner the better.”

He was gone, leaving me angry, deeply wounded and desperately unhappy.

HOW DULL THE COURT was without him! I was fractious and illtempered. When I sat through the long process of preparing myself for the evening's revelries, I was constantly shouting at my ladies until they were reduced to such nervousness that they were even more clumsy than they would otherwise have been; and this added to my irritability. All the intricate processes of getting into bone and buckram, the tight lacing, the whalebone hips, the petticoats, the glittering picadillie ruffs, the gorgeous gowns of velvets and brocades glittering with pearls and precious stones… they all seemed pointless because Robert would not be there to see me. Lettice was still waiting on me, and I did have the satisfaction of knowing that, in any case, he was not with her.

I heard that he had gone to Kenilworth which had come into his possession with the title, and that he was making it into one of the most magnificent castles in the country.

I wondered if he missed the Court and me.

They were saying: This is the end of Leicester. His day is over. Well, he had a good running. Who will take his place?

Idiots! I thought. As if anyone could take his place!

One of Robert's chief enemies was Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. I had favored Howard when I came to the throne because of his connection with my mother's family; moreover I needed his support because he was one of the leading peers in the country; but I never liked him. I thought he was arrogant and stupid with it.

Many of them were jealous of the favor I showed to Robert, of course, and Norfolk particularly so since the incident at the tennis court some little time before which I had forgotten.

I had been watching Robert play with Norfolk. My father had excelled at the game and loved to play it before spectators for he always won (it was the rule of the Court that no one should beat him). Therefore he had liked a goodly company of lookers-on, especially beautiful women.

In this particular game Robert was winning for he was very skilled in all games and although, like my father, he hated to be beaten, in Robert's case he had to win by skill.

This he was doing and Norfolk was becoming more and more disconcerted especially as when Robert made a good stroke I clapped my hands and my ladies naturally did the same.

During a pause in the game with Robert well in ascendance, he came to my side. I smiled at him lovingly and he returned my smile.

“You are too hot, Robin,” I chided him. “You will take a chill.”

At which he took my mockinder—a sort of handkerchief—from my girdle and mopped his brow with it. I must admit that I was a little taken aback by such an act of familiarity in public, but it pleased me in a way, even though I knew that it was such gestures which gave substance to the gossip that we were lovers.

Norfolk had seen it and he cried out: “You impudent dog! You insult the Queen!”

He approached Robert brandishing his racquet and I thought there would be a fight in my presence. I was too startled to cry out and before I could do anything to put an end to the scene, Robert had seized Norfolk's hand which held the racquet, twisting it so that the Duke yelled in pain and the racquet dropped to the ground.

I could blame Norfolk absolutely for he had started the brawl. I shouted then: “How dare you, Norfolk! How dare you behave in such a way before me! Look to it, or it may not be only your temper which is lost.”

Norfolk was immediately subdued. He wanted to explain but I silenced him and he asked leave to retire.

“That I willingly give,” I cried. “And pray do not return until I send for you.” Then I turned to Robert and I said: “Methinks, my lord Norfolk does not like to be beaten at tennis. Not only does he lose the game but his temper with it. And you, my lord Leicester, are somewhat overcome by the heat. Pray be seated and cool yourself.”

I indicated that he should sit beside me and as he did so, I took the mockinder and replaced it in my girdle.

So now that Robert appeared to be in decline Norfolk would be jubilant and with the help of Sussex and Arundel he thought he could destroy Robert forever.

I was sure that they were behind the diabolical plan, when rumors started to circulate once more concerning the death of Amy Robsart.

It appeared that John Appleyard, Amy's half-brother, had stated that he had received large sums of money from Robert at the time of Amy's death for his services in suppressing certain facts and now his conscience demanded that he make those facts known.