A Thousand Eyes: A Novel of Elizabeth I

Chapter 6

"Church." It was the first word Cecil uttered after the coronation craze had settled, and I was still floating on a cloud of public admiration when I met him a few days later in his dim but well-furnished office. "We must establish a church."

"Of course."

"I think - " he rubbed his eyes. "I think a Protestant bill might pass."

"Through the House of Lords? Nonsense. Half of them are Catholic."

"The people are weary of Catholicism now. Mary meant to convert them all with her burnings, but really she made the Protestants more resentful and those without any clear leaning more wary."

"Mary had a lot of supporters. More than me, perhaps. The people are divided, Cecil. A Protestant bill will not divide them less than a Catholic one, it will simply do it in a different way."

"That will change, Your Majesty. You will see - Catholicism is the past, it is old and people are growing weary of its flaws. Our religion is the future - we should establish it, and slowly those who are more reluctant will see that it is the true path."

"There is no true path. All roads lead to God."

"What do you suggest, then? Continue forcing the people to hear sermons in languages they don't understand, dressing up the priests and the churches in fancy robes, fancy decorations, as if faith is a matter of splendor and not simplicity?"

"No. I don't - " I rubbed my fingers against the knuckles of my other hand. "I don't know. But there must be another way."

"There are only two roads," Cecil said matter-of-factly. "We mustn't choose the wrong one."

-----

When the bill failed, Cecil was furious. "Knaves!" he cried, storming into my office. "Knaves! They are absolute fools."

"I knew it would not work," I muttered.

"What are we to do now? We cannot very well pass a Catholic bill! We might as well sail to France and personally hand your crown to the Queen of Scotland." He was right - the Catholic religion condemned annulments, and according to it, the divorce that allowed my mother's ascension to the throne was a farce. To the Catholics, I was illegitimate.

"We must find a middle ground."

"If only there were a way to boot all of the Catholics out of the House of Lords," Cecil muttered. "But if we can find a way to placate them. . ."

"I say we propose a Protestant bill," I suggested. "But with a tolerance for Catholicism."

"They'll have to pass it, because they know we can't do any better than that." Cecil nodded, lifting his torso. "They'll have to pass this one."

And he was writing again.

-----

I was sandwiched between the new Spanish ambassador, the duke of Quadra, and the French ambassador, Sieur de la Mauvissiere, and I felt like I was suffocating. They would never do anything improper at a royal feast, certainly, but they looked as if they wanted to claw each other's eyes out, and I felt as if I were intruding on their patriotic spat just by sitting between them.

When the lutes began to play, I stood with a hearty clap. "Shall we dance?" I asked, careful not to address either in particular.

The Spanish ambassador lept to his feet first. "I would be honored."

The French ambassador's eyes were daggers as the duke scuttled with me towards the dance floor. The dance began slowly, a line each of the men and women, and when we crossed paths the duke said in my ear, "The king received your response. He was wondering if you have made up your mind yet."

He picked me up with large hands, and I soared in the air for a split second before dropping back down to earth. "I have been thinking deeply. I still highly desire a friendship with His Majesty, but in terms of marriage there are other matters to consider."

"Matters like the French?" I was spinning in a different direction when he said it, so I had no time to analyze his expression, and I pretended I hadn't heard.

"I think His Majesty will find that we can certainly be good - " we ladies flicked our wrists, "friends as we have always been, no matter what happens." I hesitated to call us friends - the king had been friendly with me when he was in England, and I responded politely back.

"His Majesty does worry that you will continue your - er - religious deviation into the new reign."

I bit my tongue. This man really was shameless, wasn't he? "I too have worried that His Majesty will continue to burn Protestants. But these things could be worked out."

"Sure, sure," he agreed, and the music slowed to a halt. "I will tell His Majesty that you are still considering his offer. But you'll have to make up your mind soon - the king will not wait much longer."

-----

At the Valentine's Day masque, I dressed as a swan. Graceful and beautiful - I thought it was fitting. Around me a sea of familiar faces were obscured by colorful veneers, and I struggled to recognize them, but that was the point - we were supposed to be surprised. So I flitted around the room - the Spanish ambassador, evidently not quite understanding the anonymity of the whole thing, had somehow managed to find me and tried to initiate talk about King Philip which I politely encouraged for as long as I could muster, and I was almost certain that Cecil had not come but had taken the opportunity to retreat to his office to work without being recognized as absent. When the dancing began, a man in a pristine white horse mask bowed before me and offered his hand.

"My lady," he said smoothly, in an obviously fabricated tone.

"My lord."

The dancing was lively. We were twirling, leaping, dipping at a speed I was hardly able to comprehend, and I had never felt more alive.

"You dance as if you were born for it," came from behind the dazzling horse mask.

"I was taught well," I said, my voice so squeaky that my partner chuckled.

"You needn't pretend with me," he said intimately. "I could spot you a league away."

"Could you?" My voice was shaky.

He pressed his hand to my back while the harp continued to hum. "Yes, my lady. You're different than any of the others. You are unforgettable."

I blushed, and maybe, just maybe, I felt something bloom in my heart. I was unforgettable - not because I was queen, not because my royal blood was so pure, but because I was me. Wasn't that what he had said?

We danced all night, until all goblets were empty and the musicians looked ready to drop their instruments and curl up right on the floor to sleep. The two of us, my anonymous partner and I, were inseparable as he whispered sweet words in my ear and I felt each one tingle like a ringing bell. Eventually I grew restless, and with impatience but kindness I whispered, "You must tell me who you are."

His eyes betrayed nothing. But when the musicians called to unmask, my mouth dropped.

My partner was Robin.

Author's Note: Hello, dear readers! Lots of men fought and died in the Civil War. But women had a part to play, too. Check out And the Stars Wept: https://goo.gl/7ADIzx

Happy reading!