The Murder in the Tower: The Story of Frances, Countess of Essex

What had happened to his life? What had happened to him?

Frances was not the sweet and loving woman he had imagined her to be. She was continually goading him. A fool! Was he? He thought of other men who had taken bribes—something he had disdained to do. Had he been a simpleton? He had always agreed with the King … until now. He had never tried to force his opinions on James.

Did James think him a fool too? Did James think that he could introduce that sly boy into the bedchamber because he, Robert, was too soft to protest?

He went off to James who had retired for the night and arrogantly entered the private apartments.

“Why, Robbie,” said James, starting up. “What brings you here at this time?”

“I see, Your Majesty, that you are no longer my good friend.”

“Now, Robbie, what has come to ye, lad. Where’s the gentle boy I used to know?”

“Perhaps Mr. George Villiers has taken his place.”

“Ah—so it’s that, lad, is it. Nay, Robbie, there’s none who could take your place with me. Did you know?”

“It does not seem that is so.”

James patted the bed. “Sit ye down, Robbie, and listen to your old Dad. You’re not the boy you used to be. What’s happened to change you?”

“I change?” cried Robert. “It is you who have changed … toward me … ever since they brought that pretty boy to your notice.”

James shook his head. “You grieve me, Robbie. You grieve me sorely. You come to me in temper at this most unseasonable hour. You bereave me of my rest, it seems on purpose to hurt me. Why have you become sullen of late, Robert? What has happened to your love for me? I have suffered through my affection for you. I have prayed for you, because, my boy, I think that if you go on as you have begun you will be sorry. I never prayed for any subject alive but you. I will speak to you now with great seriousness. You should not forget that you owe your wealth and your standing here at Court to me. It is because I have loved you so much that I have borne patiently with your tempers. Do not try me too much. Continue to love me, be to me as you once were and hold me by the heart, Robbie. If you do this you may build upon my favor as upon a rock. Rest assured that I shall never weary of showing my affection for you. I have accepted your arrogance toward me, and I forgive it—although it is something I find hard to forget. Your fate is in your own hands. Here is the best and kindest master you could ever have. But if you are ungrateful, if you forget that although he loves you, he is still your King, then you will have only yourself to blame for the consequences.”

Robert listened sullenly to his speech. He longed, even as James did, to be back on the old footing. He wished that he were more articulate; he wished that he could explain to this good friend how everything had changed since he had betrayed Essex through his love for Frances. He believed that James would have understood more readily than he did himself.

He fell on to his knees then and kissed James’s hand, and seeing the sullenness fade from his face, the King was delighted.

“Your Majesty,” said Robert, “forgive me.”

“We’ll say no more of this matter, Robbie. But forget not what I have said.”

Robert remembered then why he had come here and he said: “Could I ask one favor of you?”

“What is it, Robbie?”

“A kinsman of mine seeks a place at Court and as there is one at this time in the Bedchamber it would give me the greatest pleasure to offer him that.”

Deeply moved the King answered: “My dear friend, dispose of the place as you deem fit. And remember this: I shall never suffer any to rise in my favor except that he may thank you for it.”

This was victory. Robert wept with affection and relief; and both he and James were happy because it seemed to them that their love was as firm as it ever had been.

There was disappointment in the Pembroke faction when it was known that the bedchamber post had gone to Somerset’s nephew.

“It seems,” said Sir Thomas Lake, “that Somerset has not lost a jot of the King’s favor.”

“James always clung to his old friends,” agreed Pembroke; “but he is taken with young Villiers and we must not lose heart. I am going to see the Queen.”

Anne received him, as always, with pleasure and he immediately told her what he wanted of her.

“Somerset is becoming unbearably arrogant, Your Majesty.” Anne nodded her agreement, being always ready to listen to criticism of Somerset.

“There is only one way of clipping his wings, and that is to turn the King’s affection to another.”

“And have another ape Somerset become as overbearing?”

“Villiers is young as yet.”

“Do not think that youth is less arrogant than middle-age. Promote this young man, my lord, and I tell you he will soon be despising us as Somerset does.”

“This young man is of a different nature. He is more ready to learn.”

“He’ll not be for long.”

“If he should in time grow like Somerset that time is far distant, Your Majesty. He could not become so powerful for years, and we must bring Somerset down or submit to his rule.”