February 1603. Richmond Palace
Eleanor Harwich, Lady-in-waiting to Queen Elizabeth
We arrived two days ago to what I have heard said is the Queen’s favourite palace. It is not the slightest bit like Greenwich, where we have been in residence for winter. I think Greenwich is far more beautiful. At Greenwich there are gardens that stretch for miles either side, so that the smells from the river do not reach you. But the Queen is bored of London, so she has demanded we come up here. I miss my father and brother who get to stay at court. My lady mother; tells me it is a privilege to be included in this exclusive party. She says it will improve my marriage prospects, but if I am away from all the men how am I to meet any eligible ones?
I cannot understand why the Queen likes Richmond, it is small and homely and there are no gentlemen in attendance, so there is no music or dancing. There is, I suppose a few doctors and men I don’t recongise who keep trying to see her Majesty. She tells us to bar the door, and refuses to let any of them examine or talk to her. They go away looking angry, I like to the one to tell them that, ‘the Queen is not receiving today.’
We sit in this bedroom of hers’. Everything is gray is her room, but that is probably because my mother and Mistress Susan Lindley have sealed up the windows, and pulled the drapes down so that very little light comes through. The Queen commands me to read to her, and I am given the Bible. She likes the Old Testament stories. I would rather read poetry to her, but my mother says that this is too fanciful and that it improves my thoughts to read the Bible.
When evening comes we are all commanded to sleep in the Queen’s chamber. We lay down pillows and blankets on the floor and try and rest. Anne Otterly snores, worse than any man I’ve ever known.
On the fifth day, the Queen get only get from her bed to the nearby chair. She will not leave it, and instead stares straight a head pretending we are not there.
My mother and the older ladies spend most of their time huddled at her feet or fetching what they think she might like. It is cold here, and even with the drapes to keep out the wind, I am still blocked nosed and sniffy. I sit by the fire and pretend I know how to maintain it.
I overhead Anne and Jane talking as I was on my way to fetch more blankets, they said the Queen is dying. I don’t believe them, Jane is an awful liar, and it is blasphemy to talk of her death.
March 1603. Edinburgh Castle, Scotland
Prince Charles, son of King James the sixth of Scotland.
Henry my elder brother won’t let me into his room. He’s stolen the wooden sword I was given as a present, even though he has perfectly good sword of his own. There’s no one else about, and Henry does not care if I cry, so I sit and rest against the door. I must have slept, because suddenly there are adults everywhere. They all yell, and call to each other and are carrying boxes or chests or food. I cry out loudly and one of the maids sees me.
“There you are, your grace.” She stops before me, bends so that are heads are to one another’s, and offers me her hand. I stand and take it.
She leads me through packed halls, full of the men and women who spend their days with his majesty. I know the way down the passages she takes, but no one is paying attention to where they step. People are drinking, eating, dancing and I can hear music. The maid takes me back to the nursery. It is empty.
I find my boat in the chest at the foot of my bed and set up a battle scene. I beat the French and then the Spanish. I am almost defeated when I attack the Irish. The noises of people talking continue, and then through their voices I hear my brother.
Henry comes into our room he is followed by our nurse. She closes the door, but I see musicians gathering to play music. There will be a party, which is strange during lent. I hide the boat, and put the pirates and soldiers back in the chest. Henry is nine and thinks that dolls are for girls.
“Where is my sword?” I march up to him. I wish I were taller.
“You can have it back. I do not want it.” he hands me the sword. “Charles,” he’s close to me and he says in a very quiet voice, “do you know that one day I shall be king of England?”
