When Norfolk had been in the Tower, he had devised some harebrained scheme for rescuing him, Norfolk being distantly connected with him through a Lady Anne Howard who had married into the de Vere family. Naturally it had come to nothing and Oxford quarreled violently with his father-in-law, Cecil, because of this.

There was one thing which worried me. When he had been foiled and the attempted rescue of Norfolk shown as the immature plot it was, Oxford was so incensed that he swore revenge on Cecil.

Cecil told me this and shrugged his shoulders.

“He is a willful boy,” he said. “I know not what will become of him.”

“I like not those threats of vengeance on you,” I said.

“He is nothing but a foolish boy,” Cecil assured me.

And I was inclined to agree.

“He now wants to be taken into the Navy,” said Cecil.

“That shall not be,” I replied firmly. I had two reasons. One, he was too reckless and I was becoming more and more proud of my growing Navy; and the other was that I enjoyed his company at Court.

“I persuaded him that as he enjoys Your Majesty's favor he would probably do better to remain at Court.”

I nodded my approval.

But it was asking too much of a nature like Oxford's to live in peace with those around him. Very soon after that he was in conflict with another young man whom I admired.

This was Philip Sidney who had many talents to recommend him apart from the fact that he was the son of my dear Mary Sidney, whose nursing during my smallpox attack had cost her her good looks. I visited her frequently in her secluded apartments at Hampton Court, and I constantly let her know that I did not forget what she had done for my sake. So the fact that she was Philip's mother would alone have made me take a special interest in the boy. Moreover, he was Robert's nephew. Robert was very good to him in many ways, and Philip I believe looked on Robert as a kind of god. That pleased me. He was a very good-looking young man, somewhat serious, highly cultivated, and he wrote verse with a flow which I found most remarkable. Mary had shown me some of his writings with great pride—so he was a young man in whom I took a particular interest.

Oxford knew of my regard for him and was jealous of it; but his real enmity, I imagined, was directed against Robert, so he struck at him through young Sidney. Even such a rash young man as Oxford would scarcely dare challenge Robert himself.

The incident took place on one of the tennis courts where Sidney was enjoying a game with a friend. Oxford came along and, deciding he wished to play, ordered Sidney and his friend to leave the court free for him.

Sidney naturally retorted: “Why should I? You must wait until the game is finished.”

“Don't be insolent, you puppy,” cried Oxford; at which Philip Sidney was incensed and there on the spot challenged Oxford to a duel.

Fortunately I was informed of this proposition and I was furiously angry. Dueling was against the law, and in any case I did not want any of my people killed in senseless quarrels—particularly two young men who graced my Court and pleased me with their presence.

I sent for Philip Sidney and demanded to know what he meant by chal- lenging the Earl of Oxford to a duel. He replied that Oxford had insulted him and his father by calling him a puppy and so implying that his father was a dog.

“Such folly!” I cried. “And over the use of a tennis court, I understand. That there should be such fools in my kingdom, I can scarcely believe. So you, my young coxcomb, would shed blood, would you, because of the rash words of another?”

“I would bear no insult, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, would you not?” I said. “Would you rather bear your Sovereign's wrath? You should know, little boy, that if you are to stay at my Court, you must show proper respect to noblemen. You have dared challenge a noble earl!”

“Your Majesty, may I respectfully point out that the rights of men come before the rights of noblemen. Your noble father supported the rights of the common man against the aristocracy when he believed it was just to do so.”

“You give a good account of yourself,” I said. “Remember this: I could send you to the Tower for challenging a noble earl, but there are members of your family who are very dear to me. Do not take advantage of this. There shall be no duel. Understand that. Now you may go. I shall be lenient with you this time—but remember.”

When he left me I was smiling. He really was a very charming fellow. He was not quite twenty years of age. Oxford was about four years older and I was certain Oxford had picked the quarrel with him because he was Robert's favorite nephew. These jealous men! I thought indulgently. But I was a little alarmed, for Philip Sidney had aroused Oxford's enmity and I believed the latter might be very irresponsible. I should hate anything to happen to increase Mary Sidney's anxieties for I knew how she doted on her son.

I suggested to Robert that such a cultivated young man should have the opportunity of foreign travel, and he agreed that he should go to Venice, where he could study Italian literature, astronomy and music.

I felt happier when young Sidney was safely out of the country.

Catherine de' Medici was working indefatigably to bring about my marriage to Alenon, and her special envoys were urging me persistently. They told me that the young Duc was madly in love with me. I pretended to be gratified. I was sure they thought me a vain and simpering woman, which was what I wanted them to believe, for the longer these negotiations went on, the better. How little they knew me!

I was fully aware that Catherine was eager for the marriage to take place before I saw her son, which confirmed all the stories I had heard of his unprepossessing appearance. Finally, however, she seemed to give way, and word was sent to me that King Charles would come to the coast of France with his brother whom he would send over to Dover that I might meet him.

This alarmed me a little. Perhaps the Duc was not so unprepossessing after all. What would the people say if they thought I was seriously considering marrying a prince whose brother was responsible for that terrible massacre on St Bartholomew's Eve?

Since I had sought the meeting, it was not easy to evade it, but I did so by adopting one of my coy maidenly attitudes. I replied that it was too decisive a step to be undertaken at this stage and not in keeping with my virgin state.

I could imagine Catherine's fury against me, but that lady should have realized by now that she was dealing with one as devious as herself!

I was saved from having to make a clear decision by events in France. Charles was a dying man; he had never really recovered from that awful night of slaughter and had been ailing ever since. He had always been a weakling physically as well as mentally, and it was obvious that he had not long to live.

His brother, the Duc d'Anjou, next in line to the succession, had become King of Poland, so he was far away. That must have given my little Alenon ideas. He was an ambitious gentleman, I will say that for him. He was always ready to take advantage of a situation. Of course, there was now great bitterness throughout France between Huguenots and Catholics, and Alenon decided that with his eldest brother in sight of death and his brother Anjou away in Poland, he had a good chance of coming to the throne himself.

He schemed with two noblemen, Mole and Coconnas, to seize the throne on the death of the King and consolidate himself there before the return of Anjou from Poland.

It was hardly likely that he would be able to succeed, for Catherine de' Medici was watchful on behalf of Anjou, who, it was said, was the only person she had ever loved; and very soon my little Prince's schemes were discovered by his mother. I heard that some sources in France suggested that I was involved in the plot. That was entirely untrue.