CHAPTER FOURTEEN
In Denmark, the tedium of my existence was lightened by the joy of exchanging messages with my Barbara, whose continued delight in the presence of our son knew no bounds. We found it best to 'ring' each other, as we termed it, during the night for Barbara was never free of company by day. We fixed on a time for our meetings and it was as though we shared a dream world together so that we could never be lonely again. My real life took place in my mind and, no doubt, I appeared to others more abstracted than ever.
I learned from those magical exchanges and from Suzanne's letters that my 'wife' had come to London for Annie's wedding. It came about thus. Theophilus Howard, with whom she had been brought up in their earliest days,when home from University had made advances to the girl and she proved ripe to fall in love with him, which would not do. Lady Howard, his stepmother, had not been slow, with the help of her trusted Simon Forman, to find Annie a respectable husband, a friend of his, much older than his bride, but well able to provide her with material comforts.
What gave us cause for alarm was that the new Mistress Doctor Turner became over friendly with the wizard, Forman, and was allowed by her doting husband to visit him at will and assist him in his laboratory. Suzanne, therefore, stayed at Fetter Lane to keep an eye on Annie, who, when the Howards were in London, often returned to the Charterhouse to act as young Frances Howard's companion, also taking messages to Forman from her mother, who had depended on his love potions in her younger days, perhaps still, for she was a wicked woman.
Doctor Dee kept in touch through the Monas magic and, as he had feared, there were countless delays over Sir Robert Dudley's legitimisation. Sir Edward Dyer had thought it best to work through the ecclesiastical courts and avoid the London lawyers, not least, because, many years earlier, Leicester (before he even won that title) had given help as Prince of the Purpoole to the Inner Temple, whose members had sworn in all perpetuity never to give aid in any action against him and his heirs. They were certain to decide that Lettice Knollys and Robert Sidney were the rightful heirs and would oppose Robert Dudley, clearly named in the will as the 'base-born son'. Our hoped-for king was risking the inheritance he held already in his attempt to gain legitimacy.
Doctor Dee did his best to be mindful at all times of the Queen's health for it was obvious she was failing and she was obdurate in her refusal to take greater care. Her life meant all to us at this juncture for she would have been only too pleased to see her cousin the 'she wolf's' marriage to Leicester declared bigamous and her support would bring Robert Dudley success. We tried to circumvent Cecil's plans for James by sending him less than correct information though I could not help but remember that Burghley had known about young Robert's childhood betrothal to Arbella Stuart and that what his father knew would certainly be a part of Robert Cecil's strategy. Doctor Dee never faltered but, I must confess, doubt as to the success of our plans crept ever deeper in my mind.
I chafed at my absence in Denmark. Drinking, hunting and bickering among themselves occupied the minds of the German princes, except for my friend, the Landgrave of Hessen, and I was seldom allowed to visit his court, for he did not need constant encouragement and reinforcement, as did the more wavering princes. True, we kept in touch through the Monas symbol, but that was lonely work. Receiving and transmitting messages day after day left me with highly strung nerves and I longed to find myself face to face with a friend. The nightly talks with Barbara were a boon, but still I longed for physical contact so that there was sadness in it too. My bones ached with the constant journeys on horseback and the distance between the German courts seemed to grow as time went on and the repeated demands for the Orphic hymn made its performance a travesty. All in all, I deemed life a hell, lit by brief glimpses of heaven.
I whiled away my hours of waiting at Elsinore or while travelling by translating a book Sir Walter had rescued in 1596 from the spoil at Cadiz. It was a treatise on singing by the German, Ornithoparcus. It exercised my Latin and gave me an excuse to keep to my room away from the heavy drinking. I must say here that King Christian was a generous master, but he was more interested in practical than spiritual matters. Building was his pastime and he had a new castle called Rosenberg, named after Rozmberk, where Doctor Dee had stayed in Bohemia. The rose of Alchemy was celebrated far and wide. In Prague, the Emperor Rudolph, whom Sir Philip had travelled to congratulate long ago, still employed men of all religions at his court and Duke Henry Julius of Brunswick put great faith in his support of our cause. The hardest thing to induce Christian and the other princes to believe was that religious unity, not faction, was our need.
~
By Christmas, I heard that all Sir Robert Dudley's witnesses had been gathered together. Then Arbella Stuart, who had been kept in the dark as to our plans, gave us all a shock. Weary, at the age of twenty-seven, of being treated like a child by her grandmother, who made her sleep in the same bedchamber, our hoped-for Queen proposed herself by messenger to the Earl of Hertford's grandson, who himself had a claim to the throne. Old Hertford, terrified of losing favour with the Queen, hastened to inform Cecil, who had enough to do with his final arrangements to place James on the throne. Arbella then became terrified of what she had done and seemed to retreat into madness, real or feigned. She was now kept under house arrest. We all prayed that no worse punishment might befall. It augured badly.
The Queen passed the festive season merrily with dancing, bear-baiting and plays, so that we were hopeful she would last out until the end of 1603. To make all sure, Doctor Dee advised her to move from the damp of Whitehall to the warmer palace of Richmond. Unfortunately, there came a change in the weather. A freezing north-east wind accompanied the removal, and January saw the sharpest season known. The Queen insisted on keeping to light, summer clothing and when, in February, her best friend died, she succumbed to melancholy and fell sick of a cold and fever.
I was hastily summoned to England and, at Mortlake, Doctor Dee and I performed a Sun ceremony for the improved health of the Queen and the success of Sir Robert Dudley's undertakings. Had my singing of the Orphic hymn with too much repetition lost its potency? I knew my faith in its strong magic wavered but Doctor Dee was firm as a rock in his belief.
While in London, I took the opportunity of registering my Third Book of Songs, dedicated to John Zouch without a thought of reward. I optimistically named it my last, hoping that never again would I have to publish for money. On my good days I felt the Golden Age about to begin in which I would hold a position of trust under our King Robert. I was not so sanguine as to believe that even then Barbara and I would have a life together with our son. We had long decided that 'love not in the blood but in the spirit doth lie.' The happiness of sharing our thoughts through the rings, free from the fear and deceit physical entanglement might bring, seemed to us best. That Christmas meeting would be our last.
~
The proceedings at the ecclesiastical courts moved at a snail's pace, yet we were unprepared for the sudden failure of our plans when magic seemed of no avail. On March 24th, the Queen, who had been failing for days, passed away and Cecil's eager messenger galloped full speed north to inform James that he was now King of England. Hardly was she cold in her bed when Elizabeth's death was made public and James's accession proclaimed. Cecil's plans went as smooth as silk whilst ours were at a standstill. By April 5th, James was on his way to his Promised Land, leaving the amazed Master of Gray, victim of the hunchback's sure revenge, at the Border.
Never had we suspected that the transfer could be made so swiftly. Horses, coaches and their toadying occupants jostled their way north to pay court to the new monarch. Even Northumberland was there. Only Raleigh kept out of the race and he was well punished, firstly, by losing his place as Captain of the Guard to a Scot, then by eviction at short notice from his London home, so that Cecil's friend, the Bishop of Durham, could reclaim it. Worse was to follow.
James lingered on his way to London, relishing the entertainment his new subjects provided, scattering right and left a largesse of knighthoods, even honouring a Sir Loin of beef whose succulence was much to his liking after a diet of half starved sheep. He failed to arrive for the Queen's funeral and Arbella Stuart, who should have been chief mourner refused to attend. James freed her from house arrest and took her to court, in fact as a hostage, though treated as a member of the family and Cecil arranged that she had a generous allowance.
Now that Lady Arbella was in safe hands, Cecil saw to it that Raleigh went to the Tower with his talkative friend, Cobham, accused of planning with Spain to place Arbella on the throne, which Sir Walter stoutly denied. Never a word did he say of Sir Robert's plans which received a greater set-back when the Plague, which delayed the Coronation, claimed as its victim the chief witness to the legality of his mother's marriage. It was not long before the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was not unsympathetic to Sir Robert's cause, also succumbed. Set-back followed set-back.
Now Sir Robert's foolhardy friends, Robert Catesby, Thomas Percy (related to Northumberland) and William Parker (later Lord Mounteagle) took it upon themselves to plan a mission to Madrid. Thomas Winter went as their emissary, first to Flanders, then to Spain; Christopher Wright and Guido Fawkes (the only professional soldier among them) followed in the hope of convincing the King of Spain that an invasion attempt would have ample support in England. We found later that they had been careless so that Cecil, who strongly suspected their activities, increased his efforts to bring about a peace pact between England and Spain.
Meanwhile, the legitimacy proceedings dragged on and when, in October, I went to visit Queen Anne in Winchester, where the court had retired for safety, with messages from her brother, King Christian, the case proper had only then begun in the Consistory Court of Lichfield, in whose diocese lay Kenilworth, the domain of Robert Dudley. Before I could enter the Queen's presence, I was informed that I must first apply to her Chamberlain, the newly made Baron Sidney of Penshurst.
In the nine years since I had last seen him, Robert Sidney had become portlier and even more pompous.
"Ah, Dowland," he condescended, "back from Denmark with a message from your master....." He interrupted his sentence as he caught sight of an equally resplendent courtier and, waving me to one side, he took the arm of Sir William Knollys, brother of Lettice; Comptroller of the Household and member of the Privy Council - that clown who had made a fool of himself over young Pembroke's mistress, Mall Fitton, and had been lampooned as Malvolio in the play.
"I am not long back from Lichfield," Sidney confided gloatingly, " where I have had the pleasure of putting a spoke in the wheel of that misbegotten upstart, Robert Dudley. Thanks to you, uncle, and to Robert Cecil, I was able to produce the Privy Council's mandate that his ridiculous legitimacy proceedings be quashed and taken to a Higher Court where he will have to state his case anew from the beginning. That will give Aunt Lettice time to file a bill for conspiracy and defamation. We have him this time! It will be the Star Chamber for him now."
They walked on, deep in conversation, and I could eavesdrop no more. It was some while before Lord Robert deigned to recall my waiting self and, with much ceremony, usher me into the presence of Queen Anne. To his fury, her Majesty granted me a private interview and was gracious enough to permit me to dedicate to her my latest work 'Lachrimae'. She also paid me the compliment of requesting me to write songs for the masque with which she wished to greet her young son, Henry, when he arrived in Winchester.
As soon as I left her presence, I sent urgent messages to Doctor Dee and Sir Edward Dyer about this further set-back to our plans. Sir Robert Dudley was down-hearted but the doctor would never countenance the thought of defeat. Truly, once having started, there was no going back. In London, we met at Sir Edward's home where we held a solemn magical ceremony both for Sir Robert's success and for the life of Sir Walter Raleigh, on trial at Winchester. Our prayers for him were answered, when in a most cruel cat and mouse performance on the scaffold, with the noose almost around their necks, James 'in his great clemency' released the other conspirators and, later, Raleigh, from death to life imprisonment in the Tower.
We had hoped that all the Howards, with the exception of the evil Henry, now raised on high by James, would support Robert Dudley's claim. However they were too busy feathering their own nests and wished to avoid trouble. 'Good' Thomas Howard was now Chamberlain and the old Admiral, who had long been Earl of Nottingham, had taken to wife a young relative of the King and was thinking only of his wedding night prowess. We later discovered that others on whom we had counted were in Cecil's pay. All the while that good Doctor Dee's hopes were high, Robin the Devil was working behind our backs, waiting, the misshapen beast, for the right moment to pounce.
~
At home, in Fetter Lane, Suzanne met me with happier tidings. Our dear Annie had given birth to a son.
"Imagine me a grandmother," crowed Suzanne, "though I had often thought Doctor Turner too old to give Annie children. Perhaps his friend, Simon Forman has helped him with potions."
Plague was now more rife than ever in London and I persuaded my 'wife' to take advantage of an invitation from Barbara to return to Penshurst at least for a time. Hardly had the Christmas holiday begun when, to my surprise, you, Rob, looking defiant, arrived at my door with Suzanne, obviously plucking up courage to impart ill news.
"Lady Barbara had told us nothing of this but Rob has been in trouble for some time. He and Master Robert have been up to all sorts of naughty tricks and, as he is older, Rob gets the blame. In spite of Lady Barbara's pleas, Lord Robert had given him one last chance before dismissing him and sending him back to us. Yesterday, Lord Robert invited the parson in to take some Christmas cheer and what should meet their eyes as they peeped into the schoolroom but the tutor, snoring in his chair, his black gown trimmed short and ragged by those wicked boys and his birch, dressed of all things as a baby, lying on his knees. "Blasphemy!" cries the parson, and, indeed, being an aged man, it must have seemed to him a travesty of the Nativity. Rob was not penitent and accused Master Robert in violent terms with the result that Lord Robert stripped the birch and laid about Rob unmercifully. Beg as she might, Lady Barbara could not prevent us being packed off, bag and baggage, at a moment's notice, with Lord Robert threatening the most terrible consequences should he ever set eyes on Rob again."
I am sure you remember the serious talks that followed. What was to become of you? Kidnapped from Sir Thomas Monson, dismissed in ignominy by Lord Robert Sidney, who was there now to speak for you? You might only make use of my then famous name and enter some lesser house as lutenist. To cheer us all and bring some Christmas spirit into our heavy hearts, Suzanne and I played and sang. Then it was your turn.....I could not believe my eyes and ears! You held your lute awkwardly, your fingers clearly unused to the instrument, and, as for your voice, the breathing was uncontrolled and the sound reedy. What in the world had happened to your lessons at the Monsons, where Sir Thomas had a reputation for training the best young musicians?
"Oh," you answered casually, "Lady Monson let me off my lessons if I wished and Robert and I preferred to go riding rather than practise our silly lutes." It was clear to me now why Sir Thomas had made no bones about handing you back to us.
The rest of the holiday season was taken up by music lessons - agony for us both - and I tutored you in Latin, too, for you would not be accepted in school without more than a smattering. I could by no means understand your slowness. I had always had a page off by heart at a glance - I could see it in my mind's eye and hear it in my mind's ear. I thought that all shared this ability of instant recall and were able as I was to repeat a poem, a conversation or a piece of music at a single hearing. Small wonder folks blamed me for my impatience and thought me overbearing. I remembered now what Master Stanyhurst had said about lessons being beaten into boys and I lambasted you sorely as there was so little time to make you learn. You hated me then.
"You are not my father!" you screamed. "The servants at Penshurst told me about your wife and Lord Robert. I am his son, not yours and one day, when he accepts the truth, I shall return to my rightful place in the world."
This time, it would have been of no avail to stand us both before a glass. My greying hair, pale face and furrowed brow in no way resembled the angry, red-cheeked visage and black, curly hair of you, my son. It was Mall Sims who managed you best and, in the end, persuaded you to name us Mother and Father, though you did so with a bad grace. Through good friends, a place was found for you at Westminster School and the torture of our nightly lessons continued, as you will recall, until, with the excuse of bad weather, I returned late to my post in Denmark and had to endure the black looks of the Lutheran Comptroller when I went to collect my wages.
~
Doctor Dee sent a message informing me that the Parliament had passed a new Act condemning to death any person remarrying while their first wife was still alive. That meant if Sir Robert Dudley claimed betrothal to Lady Arbella, he was a bigamist and must die by the law. Damn Cecil to hell, who controlled James's Parliament as he had Elizabeth's. In June, Sir Edward Coke, the hateful Attorney General, who had insulted Raleigh so cruelly at the Winchester trial, insisted on going to Sudeley himself to interview Sir Robert's mother, the better to hear her story and prepare a case against it. Lady Stafford wrote to her brother, the old Admiral, asking him for his confirmation of her marriage to Leicester but he made no reply.
The trial opened in the dread Star Chamber, Doctor Dee told me, with all the members of the Privy Council present, none sympathetic to Sir Robert, who was now the accused, charged by his stepmother, Lettice Knollys, with conspiracy to defame her. Only those of his own age group stood by him in court - his second cousin, Lord Dudley, his half brother, Edmund Sheffield and his cousin, Lord Effingham, son of the old Admiral, and they were publicly reviled for it. After the first day, the court was adjourned, leaving all in doubt. At the end of the year, the old Admiral began to plan a diplomatic journey to Spain and was prepared to take Sir Robert with him but Coke soon put a stop to that. Cecil was afraid his prize would escape and spoil his plans.
I chafed at my absence in Denmark but King Christian would by no means give me up. With the help of my music, as he thought, he saw visions of Christ telling him he was to be God's leader in Europe and must prepare himself to go to war with the Church of Rome. Even Doctor Dee began to despair that the peaceful unification of the religions would come to pass.
Certain letters from Suzanne added to my concern. You had spoken of strangers who intercepted you on your way to and from school, asking you questions about your father and whom you had seen visiting the house. I knew we could not rely on your discretion, Rob. What could you know of the need for secrecy? I had nightmares of you in the Tower undergoing the torture of the rack, and pondered long and carefully on how best to proceed. I wrote to my boyhood friend, John Forster of Dublin and to William Temple, Provost of Trinity College, who had been Sir Philip Sidney's secretary in the Netherlands and, like me, had attended his death bed.
In May, 1605, I was given special leave by King Christian to take you to Dublin, carrying a letter of protection. There you were enrolled at the College where Master Edmund Campion had once hoped to teach. Kind John Forster, as you remember, welcomed you into his family, saying you resembled exactly the boy he had once known. I shall not easily forget your face, my son, as I left you with strangers in a foreign land. Can you imagine how your true mother felt at this time? The voice I heard in my mind, night after night, was broken with sobs and I could find no words to console her. London was far enough from Kent but Ireland was on the edge of the world and a wild and dangerous place, as was well known.
We were on our way to Dublin as Sir Robert Dudley's trial was opening in London. Doctor Dee described it each evening and told me that, when the court reassembled, Lord Robert Sidney strutted in, bursting with pride at his new title of Viscount Lisle, Robert Dudley's rightful inheritance should his legitimacy be proved. It was obvious that the King had pre-judged the case. And there on the Bench perched Cecil, newly made Earl of Salisbury. The word went the rounds that Lady Arbella Stuart was to marry the Queen's brother, Duke Ulric of Holstein. They had it all well timed.
There were few great ones still living to attest the legality of the Earl of Leicester's marriage to Douglas Sheffield, now lady Stafford; and Coke, in his blustering fashion, denounced all the working people who gave evidence as 'rogues and liars', called their testimony 'damned' and demanded that they should be debarred for ever from testifying in any court, deserving drastic punishment for their part in this trial. Sir William Leighton, who had supported Sir Robert at Lichfield, was heavily fined and, three years later, sued for debt, outlawed and imprisoned. I did what I could to help by writing music and a commendatory poem for the second edition of his 'Lamentations of a Sorrowful Soul.' Sir Robert and his mother were acquitted but all the depositions were sealed up until the King should order the enclosures to be broken. Thus the evidence for a further case was suppressed never to be reopened. The judgement ignored altogether the legitimacy claim. A nice legal trap snapped shut.
Who was to say that all the ceremonies performed for Sir Robert's success and happiness had been in vain? The gods move in a mysterious way. He fell deeply in love with his half cousin, Elizabeth Southwell, and two months after the trial,( the lady dressed as a boy) eloped to France, leaving wife, daughters, land and wealth, taking only three servants, four horses, eighty pounds in money and, I dare say, as many jewels as they could carry. The Pope later gave them dispensation to marry, Sir Robert claiming that, as he had first been betrothed to Frances Vavasour (now conveniently dead these two months) his two previous marriages were invalid. He would not endanger Arbella Stuart's good name any more than Sir Walter Raleigh had done at his trial. As Sir Robert and the new Lady Dudley refused to return to England (and his certain death) James was happy to sequester all Dudley's estates to the Crown. Sir Robert used the knowledge gained at Raleigh's Academy to make himself useful to the Duke of Tuscany and he and his lady lived in Florence happily and prosperously to a ripe old age with boys as well as girls to bless them.
~
The Warwickshire plotters were busy at the time of Sir Robert's trial. They leased a house next the Parliament with the intention of mining there and blowing up King, princes, lords and government so as to make a fresh start in England. When Sir Robert's legitimacy claim came to naught they still continued and perhaps hoped he would return from Europe to claim the throne. Doctor Dee was horrified by these rash proceedings,for violence was anathema to him. Cecil could not have been ignorant of this foolhardy plot but bided his time till he had all heads in a noose. Even in Ireland, Rob, you must have heard of the Gunpowder Plot, which ended with more torturing and deaths like my true master's and renewed nightmares for me away in Denmark, though kept in close touch with all events.
I see my writing becomes less and less legible but I must not cease my story, feeling, as I do, that time is short and there is much still to relate. I have ordered Mall to open my door to none. I cannot waste my precious days in idle chatter.....
