Robert was alarmed, because his teachers had despaired of him and he was far happier out of doors than in the schoolroom; it had seemed more important to his parents that he should grow up strong in the arm than in the head.
James was disappointed.
“It seems to me, lad, that your education has been most shamefully neglected. And a pity too, for ye’d have had a good brain if any had taken the trouble to train it.”
James went sorrowfully away, but the next day he returned to Robert’s bedside. With the King came one of his pages carrying books, which at James’s command he laid on the bed.
James’s eyes were bright with laughter.
“Latin, Robbie,” he cried. “Now here ye are, confined to bed for a few days. And already you’re longing to be in the saddle again and out in the sunshine. Ye canna, Robbie. But there’s something you can do. You can make up a little for all ye’ve lost, by a study of the Latin tongue, and ye’ll discover that there’s more adventure to one page of learning than to be found in months in the tiltyard. For ye’re going to have a good tutor, Robbie—the best in the Kingdom. Can you guess who, lad? None but your King.”
In the Court they were discussing the King’s latest oddity. Each morning he was at the bedside of Robert Carr. The young man was not an apt pupil; but the teacher quickly forgave him this deficiency because he had so much that gave him pleasure.
It was clear; the King had found a new favorite.
At one of the windows two children—a boy and a girl—stood looking down toward the tiltyard where a group slowly sauntered, led by the King who was leaning on the arm of a tall, golden-haired young man.
The boy was about thirteen although he looked older and the expression on his handsome face was very serious. The girl, who was some two years younger than her brother, slipped her arm through his.
“Oh, Henry,” she said, “do not let it disturb you. If it were not this one, it would be someone else.”
Prince Henry turned to his sister, frowning. “But a King should set an example to his people.”
“The people like our father well enough.”
“Well enough is not good enough.”
“It will be different when you are King, Henry.”
“Do not say that!” retorted her brother sharply. “For how could I be King unless our father died?”
Elizabeth lifted her shoulders. Although but eleven, she already showed signs of great charm; she adored her brother Henry, but she was much happier when he was less serious. There were so many pleasures to be enjoyed at Court, so why concern themselves with the odd behavior of their parents? At least they themselves were indulged and had little to complain of. Their father might be disappointed because they did not show signs of being as learned as he was, but on the whole he was a tolerant parent.
Henry however had a strong sense of the fitness of things; that was why everyone admired and respected him. He was constantly learning how to be a good king when his time came. He was wonderful in the saddle but did not care for hunting, believing it to be wrong to kill for the sake of killing. Many thought this a strange notion, but it was natural that the son of King James should have odd ideas now and then.
If he had not excelled at all games and disliked study he would have been too perfect to be popular, but his small faults endeared him to everyone.
Elizabeth put her head on one side and regarded him with affection.
“What are you thinking of?” he demanded.
“You,” she told him.
“You might find a more worthy subject.”
She put her arms about his neck and kissed him. “Never,” she told him. Then she laughed. “I heard two of your servants grumbling together today. They complained that you had caught them swearing and insisted on their paying a fine into your poor box.”
“And they liked that not?”
“They liked it not. But methinks they liked you for enforcing the rule. Now Henry, tell me this: are you pleased when your servants swear?”
“What a question! It is to prevent their swearing that I fine them.”
“Yes, but the more fines they pay, the more money for the poor. So perhaps the poor would wish your apartment to be filled with profanity.”
“You are becoming as serious-minded as you say I am.”
“Oh no!” Elizabeth laughed. She changed the subject. “Our father does not like you to visit your friend in the Tower.”
“He has not forbidden me to go.”
“No, he would not. Our father is a strange man, Henry. He hopes that you won’t, but he understands that you must; and therefore he does not interfere.”
“Why do you tell me this?”
