CHAPTER VI

PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT

The move to Sheffield was now abandoned because of the desperate excitement aroused in Elizabeth’s mind by the disclosure of the love affair which was brewing between Mary and the Duke of Norfolk. This matter for some time was not entirely a secret. A certain number of influential English nobles agreed with those of Scotland that such a marriage would be an excellent solution of the entire Scottish question. Even Leicester himself, adored of Elizabeth, joined his opinion to theirs. And these gentlemen had drawn up a proposal to Mary of which one clause runs, “Whether, touching her marriage with the Duke of Norfolk which had been moved to her by the Earl of Moray and Lidington, she would wholly refer herself to the Queen’s Majesty and therein do as she would have her and as her Majesty did like thereof—willing that all things should be done for her Majesty’s surety, which might be best advised by the whole Council.”

Her reply to this document, especially to the clause quoted, was clear, dignified, and highly emphatic. She did not doubt the English Queen’s good faith, nor the friendship of her nobles, nor the goodwill and liking of the Duke. She adroitly declared that she never regarded marriage as a mere means to recover power and position, saying, “I assure you that if either men or money to have reduced my rebels to their due obedience could have ticed me I could have been provided of a husband ere now. But I ... did never give ear to any such offer.” She fully calculated what she would lose by this marriage in regard to all her “friends beyond the seas.” The Duke of Alva was trying to secure her co-operation in the invasion of England. She was coquetting with the Duke of Anjou. She was writing to Rome. By the document she had signed she laid aside all future schemes, while she could still nourish the secret hope that, once restored to the Scottish throne in place of her baby son, she would, in default of Elizabeth’s marriage, inherit the throne of England. The whole matter was now on such a broad and amicable footing that apparently nothing was wanting but the longed-for “Bless you, my children” from the lips of Elizabeth.

By September this dream was rudely dispelled. Norfolk was summoned to Court, roundly abused—Elizabeth, as one of her courtiers writes of her, could “storme passinglie”—and poor Shrewsbury received a severe snub. The Queen practically declared him a useless gaoler: “I have found no reliance on my Lord Shrewsbury in the hour of my need, for all the fine speeches he made me formerly, yet I can in no wise depend on his promise.” Therefore she added two guards—the Earl of Huntingdon and Viscount Hereford.

More household complications, more goings and comings, more trouble for Earl and Countess! Afflicted with chronic gout and irritated in every direction, Shrewsbury decided to make for Tutbury again. A tactless royal order addressed to Huntingdon (whom Mary also hated) over the head of Shrewsbury bred fresh discomfort and annoyance in the Castle. Things were, however, gradually smoothed over. The jealousy between Mary’s gaolers was allayed on the one hand by the news that the Queen’s apprehensions were justified by the disappearance of the Duke of Norfolk from Court, while the alarm of Mary was increased fourfold by the cross-questioning to which she was subjected and the news of the sudden arrest of her ducal lover.

These were dramatic days which Bess of Shrewsbury witnessed. Letters were intercepted, coffers suddenly searched in the Scots Queen’s apartments, there were incursions of men with “pistolets,” constant dismissals of the Queen’s people, sudden dismissal, even, of the Countess’s own servants. But the gaps at the board were immediately filled by Huntingdon and his retinue, for whom the Shrewsburys were expected to provide without any increase of allowance, on the score that the present numbers of the household did not exceed those at Wingfield and elsewhere. The irony of this, added to the suggestions that the Earl had been too kind to his prisoner, and that his request to be allowed to deal as before with Mary without the assistance of any other officer, sprang from some person or persons “too much affectionated to her,” created havoc in Shrewsbury’s mind. Of course he visited his anger on his colleague Huntingdon in the form of morose hints. In that atmosphere of wholesale suspicion he could not speak out except in a letter to head-quarters. He knew that Elizabeth’s sinister expressions implied suspicions of his Countess. It is difficult to understand exactly what this lady was “after,” in the vulgar phrase, at this moment. For Mary, with whom she had hitherto been on excellent terms, now distrusted her also. She expressed this distrust _tout au plat_, as she would say, to Walsingham in October, and told him not to attach any credit “to the schemes and accusations of the Countess who is now with you.” Apparently my Lady had left for the Court, and was there making good her case and her husband’s. As likely as not she was furiously jealous of the authority wrested from her husband in favour of Huntingdon, and overwrought, like everyone else, by the acute tension of the situation. Henceforward in the correspondence with Cecil sturdy disclaimers of treason on the part of Earl and lady are always cropping up. The following is from Shrewsbury to Cecil, October, 1569:—

“Sir,—I have received your letter, thinking myself beholden unto you for your friendly care over me. I hear to my grief that suspicion is had of over much goodwill borne by my wife to this Queen and of untrue dealing by my men. For my wife thus must I say, she hath not otherwise dealt with that Queen than I have been privy unto and that I have had liking of, and by my appointment hath so dealt that I have been the more able to discharge the trust committed unto me. And if she for her dutiful dealing to her Majesty and true meaning to me should be suspected that I am sure hath so well deserved, she and I might think ourselves fortunate. And where I perceive her Majesty is let to understand that by my wife’s persuasion I am the more desirous to continue this charge, I speak it afore God she hath been in hand with me as far as she durst and more than I thought well of since my sickness to procure my discharge. I am not to ...[16] by her otherwise than I think well of.”

From the close of this year till the execution of the Duke of Norfolk in 1572 the history of George Talbot and Bess Hardwick is bound up with the story of the tissue of conspiracies which wound itself about Mary. The Norfolk plot, with which Mary was to be drawn out of prison, was a stout rope woven of many strands; the net which Cecil constructed for his prey was close-meshed and wide-spreading. There were constant alarums and excursions for the Earl and his people. He succeeded in getting rid of Huntingdon, but he was incessantly in fear of a rising of the northern nobles to whom Norfolk had appealed for their armed support; and when this fear was realised and the armed Earls arrived within fifty odd miles of Tutbury a hasty removal was necessary. Coventry was the only place which suggested itself until the hostile demonstration fizzled out and Tutbury could be regained.

The new year found the household re-established there. While Mary, in poor health, acted as though she had no inkling of conspiracy, while the Duke of Norfolk and the Bishop of Ross, her adviser, were in the Tower, miniature plots again disturbed the tenor of existence, and for once the Earl was permitted to choose his own road, and to remove his captive with bag and baggage to Chatsworth.

This was a pleasanter place than Tutbury for the inditing of love letters, as Mary found. But her Duke was a broken reed. He wanted to leave the Tower, and to Elizabeth he vowed he would not marry her rival. The summer passed on and the conditions of imprisonment at Chatsworth fluctuated from “straitness” to indulgence according to the suspicions of Elizabeth and the reports of those who were jealous spies of the Earl’s slightest actions. Things assumed a more hopeful aspect in spite of the discovery of another minor plot to free Mary by letting her down from one of the windows of the Countess’s spacious and elegant house—still unfinished. Elizabeth about this time actually contemplated Mary’s freedom and her re-establishment as a sovereign; whereupon a treaty to this end was carefully discussed!

Negotiations came to such a pass that Mr. Treasurer himself was empowered to travel to Chatsworth and confer with the prisoner. He took his wife with him, and between business and pleasure the visit passed off well. Cecil wrote a long and complimentary “leaving letter” on behalf of himself and his wife, chiefly interesting in this connection because it indicates how Lady Shrewsbury played her part as hostess.

“We have fully satisfied her Majesty with the painful and trusty behaviour of my Lady your wife in giving good regard to the surety of the said Queen; wherein her Majesty surely seemed to us to be very glad, and used many good words, both of your Lordship’s fidelity towards herself, and of the love that she thought my Lady did bear to her.... And thus I humbly take my leave of your Lordship and my Lady, to whom my wife hath written to give her thanks for certain tokens whereof I understood nothing afore she told me of them; and sorry I am my Lady should have bestowed such things as my wife cannot recompense as she would, but with her hearty goodwill and service, which shall always be ready to her favour and mine also: assuring yourself that to my uttermost I will be to your Lordship and to my Lady as sure in good will as any poor friend you have.”

Like all the schemes of Elizabeth the aforesaid treaty hung fire. Suspense and disappointment had their usual result upon Mary. Once more she fell ill. Had she died on their hands Earl and Countess would have been open to the worst suspicions. They found themselves always out of pocket in regard to her maintenance; they were themselves, obviously, more or less prisoners in their own house; they had begged to be released from “this charge.” In an age when poisonings were rife and assassinations common they would have been suspected by all parties of all sorts of foul play. Mary’s loyal gentleman, John Beton, the prægustator, must have had enough to do at this time in tasting the dishes for the daily menus. Shrewsbury meanwhile kept a sharp look-out and at once suggested change of air. Mary, in spite of the pain in her side, symptom of a chronic malady, and one which always attacked her when she was the least out of health, was only too ready to move. This time the destination was Sheffield—the castle.

Matters grew worse and worse in regard to the captive in spite of all these precautions. Down came the Bishop of Ross—now set at liberty—and the Court physician, while all the world knew that for this illness there was but one cure—liberty. Only intrigue kept Mary alive at the close of 1570. The rest of the spring and summer of 1571 witnessed her return to the proposals to the Duke of Norfolk, the co-operation of Ridolfi, the preparations by her Scottish partisans, the crystallisation of the plan of invasion by Philip of Spain. The whole toil of this great enterprise was nullified by the curiosity of a mere merchant, an innocent messenger chosen to carry a bag of money destined to further the plot. He mistrusted the contents, carried the bag to head-quarters, and inside were the incriminating letters which led to the second imprisonment of Norfolk and the gradual unravelling of the conspiracy. During the lengthy process of examining the many people involved there were uneasy moments for all sorts and conditions of men. It was a most uncomfortable time for the Shrewsburys. It was open to any of their dismissed servants who were arrested to inculpate their former employers, and the latter were probably prepared for such contingencies. Yet a letter like the following would descend upon the Countess somewhat like a bombshell. The man Lascelles mentioned in it was an ex-servant under arrest, and when threatened with torture pleaded guilty to the charge, giving as excuse that what he did was known to the Countess.

“It may please your Ladyship,

“Where of late Bryan and Hersey Lascelles having been before my Lords of her Majesty’s Council, it appeareth directly by the letters both of the Queen of Scots and of the Duke of Norfolk also, that Hersey, as he confessess also himself has been a dealer sometimes with the Queen there by the means of his brother’s being in service there; and yet that his dealing was not without knowledge of your Ladyship, to the end, as he says, that the same might always be known. I have thought good to advertise your Ladyship thereof, and withal to pray you to let me understand the truth of such matter as your Ladyship doth know of the said Hersey Lascelles’ dealings from time to time as particularly as your Ladyship can remember. And so I take my leave of your Ladyship.

“From London, the 13th of October, 1571.

“Your Ladyship’s at commandment, “W. BURGHLEY.

“To the right honourable and my very good Lady, the Countess of Shrewsbury. Haste, haste, haste.”

A nice letter to receive on a serene autumn day! Carefully worded and dignified though it is, it opens up vistas of suspicion and treachery. The Countess was away, and her lord had to bear the first brunt of it alone. Perhaps this was just as well, as it gave him a chance of clearing their honour independently. For, of course, he recognised in it an urgent official document. The reading must have cost him a bad quarter of an hour. There was no time to be lost in again asserting his wife’s integrity. A few seconds of miserable suspense would possibly ensue ere his trust and loyalty conquered all fears, and he sat down to write first to his wife, enclosing the letter from Court, and then to tell Burleigh that some serious misconstruction must have been placed on the fact that he always empowered his lady to interest herself in such persons as Lascelles and his doings, the better to keep her spouse apprised of Mary’s plots: “I willed my wife to deal with him and others to whom the Queen bears familiar countenance, so as the better to learn her intentions.” To this he adds a diplomatic postscript, assuring Burleigh that this letter is penned independently of any collusion with his wife.

The Countess, fenced in by consciousness of innocence, backed by the sense of possession, and seated in the heart of her own pleasant estate, rich now in the burnished glory of autumn, writes _en grande dame_ from Chatsworth on October 22nd:—

“Your letters touching Henry Lassells came to my hands after my husband had answered them. I doubt not you are persuaded of my dutiful service, but lest you should think any lack of goodwill to answer, I thought it meet to advertise you of my whole doings in the matters.

“As soon as I had intelligence that this Lassells had some familiar talk with the Queen of Scotland, and that my Lord thereupon had laid watch to his doings, this Lassells belike suspecting of my knowledge thereof, desired that he might offer unto me some special matter touching that Queen, with great desire that I should in no wise utter it, for, saith he, she hath most earnestly warned me not to tell you of all creatures. I then hoping to hear of some practice, answered him that he might assure himself not only to be harmless, but to be well rewarded also at the Queen Majesty’s hands, and of my Lord, if he would plainly and truly show of her doings and devices, meet to be known. Then he told me with many words that she pretended great goodwill unto him, and of good liking of him, and that she would make him a lord, but, saith he, I will never be false to the Queen’s Majesty, nor to my Lord, my master. Further than this I could not learn of him. Then I warned him to remember his duty and to beware of her, and that she sought to abuse him, and that I knew for certain that she did hate him. He said then that he would take heed, and advertise me of all that he could learn. After this he came to me again, and told me of her familiar talk as before, and of no further matter, saving that he said that he told her how he marvelled that she could love the Duke,[17] having so foul a face, and that she answered that she could like him well enough, because he was wise. Then I warned him again more earnestly than I did before, and told him of her hatred towards him. Then he seemed to credit me. Albeit a while after he desired me by his letters to certify him how I knew she hated him, for, saith he, if she so do she is the falsest woman living. Then my Lord and I perceiving his mind so fondly occupied on her and knowing him to be both vain and glorious, and that he was more like to be made an instrument to work harm than to do good, my Lord despatched him out of service, as he hath divers others upon suspicion at sundry times. This came to my knowledge about Candlemas, next after the Northern rebellion, and he was put away about Easter following. I never knew of any dealing between the Queen and the Duke of Norfolk, either by Lassells or anyone else. If I had I trust you think I would have discovered it.”

It is not surprising that the Earl’s wife kept aloof for a while and preferred Chatsworth just now. Sheffield was a regular dungeon: the Scottish Queen was only allowed to take an airing on the leads. No domestic cheerfulness was possible, no social intercourse, and every letter sent or received was a source of anxiety.

Both for the sake of social decency and because of the necessity to impress the always scandalous world with her conjugal devotion, the Countess however returned presently to the fortress and took up her share of the daily burden of wardenship.

Her presence was more than ever necessary now. The Duke of Norfolk’s trial was fixed for a date early in the New Year, and the Earl’s assistance thereat was indispensable, for he was made Lord High Steward of England in the place of the arraigned nobleman. The command at Sheffield was therefore temporarily assigned, not to Huntingdon this time, but to Sir Ralph Sadler. He arrived, the Earl left for London, and Bess Shrewsbury remained to keep a hand upon the situation and play her own cards. She did this incessantly till her husband’s return. Circumstances gave her most excellent opportunities for making a good impression on Sadler. It was her business to walk on those leads of the now vanished castle with the prisoner and to carry her daily such news as it was considered well to communicate. There was very little variety in the days. When the weather was bad Mary kept to her rooms. When it improved she took her airing, but had not much refreshment for her eyes. There was little to do on the leads but stroll to and fro, gazing at Sheffield Lodge on the hill, or at the water and meadows below. And for the ear there was nothing beyond music on the virginals to charm it, no sounds to distract the country silence, except the opening and closing of the castle gates, and the roll of the drum at six o’clock morning and evening, when the watches were set and the password given.

To all who are students of the latter years of Mary’s life the letters of Sir Ralph Sadler, written during this time, must be familiar. His whole attention is naturally concentrated on the interesting captive, but here and there we get side glimpses of Lady Shrewsbury and her power as a kind of self-ordained lady of the bedchamber to Mary.

The news of Norfolk’s death sentence was not long in coming. The Earl of Shrewsbury himself had to pronounce it with true and bitter tears, and Cecil, now Lord Burghley, at once wrote to Sheffield. A fact so important must be communicated to Mary at once. It was due to her both as Norfolk’s accomplice and as a prisoner of quality. It was highly important that the effect of it on her should be gauged and duly reported. For this sweet errand the Countess was chosen. A previous announcement had, however, reached her, and took the wind out of the Countess’s sails. What a situation! She found the Queen “all bewept and mourning,” and had the doubtful taste to ask “what ailed her.” Mary, with great dignity and pathos, replied that she was sure that the Countess must already know the cause and would sympathise, and she expressed further her intense grief lest anything she had written to Elizabeth on behalf of Norfolk had brought him and her other friends to such a pass. The Countess had common sense, and her rejoinder was logical and undoubtedly correct, but she need not have hit quite so hard as in her reply, quoted by Sadler. For a woman of imagination—and imagination of a practical kind Bess Shrewsbury certainly possessed—it was a cruel answer, and not the least part of the cruelty was the scathing condemnation of one who she knew might have been Mary’s husband. It seems to have crushed Mary. She could bear no further discussion of the matter, and withdrew into herself to nurse her sorrow. “And so like a true lover she remaineth, still mourning for her love,” wrote Sadler, much touched by her attitude. This letter of his is graphic enough to be quoted in full:—

“Please it, your Lordship,

“The posts whether they work or play have their hire, and therefore I spare not their labour though I have none other occasion than to advertise your L. that all is well here concerning this charge, and that yesterday I received your letters of the 17th of this present (for which I most heartily thank your L.), together with a brief discourse of the Duke’s arraignment and condemnation, which I forthwith imparted unto my Lady of Shrewsbury to the end she might take occasion to make this Queen understand of the same; and also I gave it out to the gentlemen in this House both what number of the Nobility did pass upon his trial, and also that his offences and treasons were such, and so manifestly and plainly proved, that all the noble men did not only detest the same, but also without any manner of scruple objected by common consent everyone of them did pronounce him guilty. Which, being put abroad here in the house after this sort, was brought unto the knowledge of this Queen by some of her folk which heard it, before my Lady came unto her, for the which this Queen wept very bitterly, so that my Lady found her all to be wept and mourning, and asking her what she ailed, she answered that she was sure my Lady could not be ignorant of the cause, and that she could not but be much grieved, to understand of the trouble of her friends, which she knew did fare the worse for her sake, for sure she was that the Duke fared the worse for that which she of late had written to the Q. Majesty; and said further that he was unjustly condemned, protesting that as far as ever she could perceive by him or for anything she knew he was a true man to the Queen her sister: but being answered by my Lady that as she might be sure that whatsoever she had written to the Q. Majesty could do the Duke neither good nor harm touching his condemnation, so if his offences and treasons had not been great and plainly proved against him those noble men which passed upon his trial would not for all the good on earth have condemned him. She thereupon with mourning there became silent, and had no will to talk any more of the matter, and so like a true lover she remaineth still mourning for her love. God, I trust, will put it into the Queen Majesty’s heart so to provide for herself that such true lovers may receive such rewards and fruits of their love as they have justly deserved at her Majesty’s hands.

“All the last week this Queen did not once look out of her chamber, hearing that the Duke stood upon his arraignment and trial, and being troubled by all likelihood by a guilty conscience and fear to hear of such news as she hath now received. And my presence is such a trouble unto her that unless she come out of her chamber I come little at her, but my Lady is seldom from her, and for my part I have not since my coming hither so behaved myself towards her as might justly give her occasion to have any such misliking of me: though indeed I would not rejoice at all of it, if she had any better liking. But though she like not of me yet I am sure this good lady and all the gentlemen and others of this house do like well enough of me: which doth well appear by their courteous and gentle entertainment of me and mine. My Lord hath a costly guest of me, for I and my men and 36 horses of mine do all lie and feed here at his charge, and therefore the sooner he come home the better for him. Trusting his L. be now on the way and therefore I forbear to write to him. But if he be there, it may please you to tell him that all is well here, and that my Lady and I do long to see his L. here. And as I doubt not she would most gladly have him here, so I am sure she cannot long for him more than I do, looking hourly to hear some good news from your L. of my return. And so I beseech Almighty God to preserve and keep you in long life and health, and to increase you in honour and virtue. From Sheffield Castle the 21st of January at night 1571. With the rude hands of

“Your L. to command as your own “R. SADLER.

“To the right honourable and my very good lord, my Lord of Burghley, of the Queen Majesty’s Privy Council.”

Never was the contrast between the two principal ladies in Sheffield Castle so marked as at this moment. Mary mourns for Norfolk, for the ruin of her hopes, for the treaty of freedom which now can never be carried through. Bess sails about the castle aware of everything at Court and at home; the posts bring her affectionate letters from the Earl, while her children and his flourish under their respective tutors. Chatsworth is still a-building, and she signs orders for stone and wood and coal and fodder. She was a good hostess to Sadler, and when he relinquished his duties gladly enough in February, upon the Earl’s return, he was positive that Lady Shrewsbury was deserving of great commendation and “condign thanks” for the manner in which she filled her important position. She was very much of a personage, and her correspondence exhibits very few of the traits usually described as “feminine,” while her friends fully estimated her influence and her interest in the larger events. The following lengthy letter gives the complexity of the political situation, and though of course it belongs to a date previous to the execution of Norfolk, is placed here as an illustration of the stirring times in which the great lady lived and the events which had happened during the first year or two of her fourth marriage. It is unsigned, and is evidently from some connection or possibly a gentleman of the Shrewsbury household, who is keeping his ears and eyes wide open at Court:—

“To the Countess of Shrewsbury,

“My most humble duty remembered unto your honourable good lord. May it please the same to understand that I have sent you herein enclosed the articles of peace concluded and proclaimed through all France, in French, because they are not at this hour to be had in English (which are translated and in printing), and if the peace be kept, the Protestants be indifferently well. The great sitting is done at Norwich; and, as I do hear credibly, that Appleyard, Throgmorton, Redman, and another are condemned to be hung, drawn, and quartered; and Hobart and two more are condemned to perpetual imprisonment, with the loss of all their goods and lands during their lives. The four condemned for high treason, and the other for reconcilement. They were charged of these four points: the destruction of the Queen’s person; the imprisonment of my Lord Keeper, my Lord of Leicester, Secretary Cecil; the setting at liberty out of the Tower the Duke of Norfolk; and the banishment of all strangers; and it fell out in their examination that they would have imprisoned Sir Christopher Haydon and Sir William Butts, the Queen’s Lieutenants. None of them could excuse themselves of any of the four points, saving Appleyard said he meant nothing towards the Queen’s person; for that he meant to have had them to a banquet, and to have betrayed them all, and to have won credit thereby with the Queen. Throgmorton was mute, and would say nothing till he was condemned, who then said, ‘They are full merry now that will be as sorry within these few days.’ Mr. Bell was attorney for Mr. Gerrard, he being one of the Judges, and Mr. Bell alleged against Appleyard that he was consenting to the treason before; alleging one Parker’s words, that was brought prisoner with Dr. Storey out of Flanders, that Parker heard of the treason before Nallard came over to the Duke of Alva. And there stood one Bacon by that heard Parker say so: my Lord offered a book to Bacon for to swear: ‘O, my Lord,’ said Appleyard, ‘will you condemn me of his oath that is registered for a knave in the Book of Martyrs?’

“They had set out a proclamation, and had four prophecies; one was touching the wantonness of the Court, and the other touching this land to be conquered by the Scots; and two more that I cannot remember. There were many in trouble for speaking of seditious words. Thomas Cecil said that the Duke of Norfolk was not of that religion as he was accounted to be: and that his cousin Cecil was the Queen’s darling, who was the cause of the Duke of Norfolk’s imprisonment, with such like; who is put off to the next assize. Anthony Middleton said, ‘My Lord Morley is gone to set the Duke of Alva into Yarmouth, and if William Keat had not accused me, Throgmorton, and the rest we had had a hot harvest; but if the Duke of Norfolk be alive, they all dare not put them to death.’ Metcalf said that he would help the Duke of Alva into Yarmouth, and to wash his hands in the Protestants’ blood. Marsham said that my Lord of Leicester had two children by the Queen: and for that he is condemned to lose both his ears, or else pay £100 presently. Chiplain said he hoped to see the Duke of Norfolk to be King before Michaelmas next, who doth interpret that he meant, not to be King of England, but to be King of Scotland.

“Mr. Bell and Mr. Solicitor said both to this effect to the prisoners—‘What mad fellows were ye, being all rank Papists, to make the Duke of Norfolk your patron that is as good a Protestant as any is in England: and, being wicked traitors, to hope of his help to your wicked intents and purposes, that is as true and as faithful a subject as any that is in this land, saving only that the Queen is minded to imprison him for his contempt.’ Doctor Storey is at Mr. Archdeacon Watts’ house, in custody, besides Powels. Thurlby, late Bishop of Ely, died this last week at Lambeth.

“The Spanish Queen is arrived in the Low Countries, and will embark as soon as may be. The Emperor is setting forward his other daughter towards Metz to be married to the French King. It is written, by letters of the 28th of the last, from Venice, that the Turk has landed in Cyprus 100,000 men, or more, and has besieged two great cities within that kingdom, Nicocia and Famagosta. At one assault at Famagosta they lost 12,000 men; upon the which repulse the Begler Bey of Natolia, the General of the Turk’s army, wrote to the great Turk, his master, that he thought it was invincible. He answered that, if they did not win it before they came, they should be put to the sword at their return home. The Turk has sent another army by land against the Venetians, into Dalmatia, and are besieging Zara with 20,000 footmen and 20,000 horsemen, and divers towns they have taken, as Spalator, Elisa, Eleba, and Nona, with great spoil and bloodshed: and it is written that the Turk’s several armies are above 200,000 men against the Venetians. The men first sent by the Venetians fell so into diseases by the way as they were fain to prepare new men, which is thought will hardly come to do any good in Cyprus. A man may see what account is to be made of these worldly things, as to see in a small time the third state of Christendom, in security, power, and wealth, to be in danger of utter overthrow in one year.

“They say my Lord of Leicester hath many workmen at Kenilworth to make his house strong, and doth furnish it with armour, ammunition, and all necessaries for defence. And thus Jesus have my Lord, and your Ladyship, and my friends in his tuition, to God’s pleasure.—Scribbled at London, the last of August, 1570.

“Your good Ladyship’s ever to command during life.

“To the right honourable Countess of Shrewsbury at Chatsworth, or where.”

Life fell once more into its old groove. No large conspiracy could be feared yet, in spite of Elizabeth’s postponement of Norfolk’s execution. But there remained always the undercurrent of lesser “practices.” Earl and Lady had their hands always full with detective work of this kind. Priests and conjurers, pedlars, porters, and even schoolmasters formed the roll of suspects. Scouts were always at work following their movements, hanging about taverns to hear gossip which might betray their doings, and searchers were employed to pounce upon any scrap of written stuff which might prove valuable “copy.” Some of the most emphatic witnesses against Mary—her own letters of conspiracy—were actually found hidden under a stone on a bit of waste ground. The messenger charged with them durst not carry them further at that moment and before he could remove them they were discovered. It was about this time that she was given permission to take her airing further than the leads and to walk out in the open. The snow lay on the ground and soaked her to the ankles, but she bore it cheerfully, and one wonders if she had knowledge of those hidden letters and whether she nourished a wild hope of finding them in their niche and setting them safely on their way. Secret and sinister were the warnings which Earl and Lady shared in that long cold spring at Sheffield. All travellers from across the Border were duly catalogued by the northern authorities and word passed from mouth to mouth of their appearance and activities. This was the sort of despatch which reached the castle: “A certain boy should come lately out of England with letters to the castle of Edinburgh and is to return back again within three or four days.... It were not amiss that my Lord of Shrewsbury had warning of him. His letters be secured in the buttons and seams of his coat. His coat is of black English frieze, he hath a cut on his left cheek, from his eye down, by the which he may be well known.”

All the dodges of such envoys—from the stitching of letters into linings and the hiding of a written message under the setting of a jewel to the use of bags with double bottoms where despatches could be kept “safe from wet and fretting” and sight—were known to the Shrewsburys. An evening spent in the kitchens and guardroom, an hour or so of conference with my Lady would open to reader and writer alike a world of sensational gossip “palpitating with actuality.” The captive Queen’s precarious health was a constant subject of discussion. Shrewsbury’s letters were bound to be full of it. Mary, who once more began to bombard Elizabeth with letters, suggested a trial of Buxton waters. She also busied herself anew with embroidery, contrived gifts for the Queen, and sent her a large consignment of French stuffs and silks. When packages of this kind arrived from France the Earl was always on the look-out. So careful was he in regard to his wife’s share in such parcels that he would not let her receive and pay for such goods until he had first communicated the exact details of the transaction to his royal mistress.

Neither French taffetas nor little embroidered caps could alter the decision of the Privy Council and reverse the position of the axe in regard to the Duke of Norfolk. His death took place in the glory of the early summer of 1572. Mary mourned and her health grew worse and worse. Yet, just when change was planned for her, and the castle had reached a condition almost too insanitary to endure, the news came of the massacre of St. Bartholomew. “These French tragedies and ending of unlucky marriage with blood and vile murders cannot be expressed with tongue to declare the cruelties.... These fires may be doubted that their flames may come both hither and into Scotland, for such cruelties have large scopes.... All men now cry out of your prisoner,” wrote Burghley to the Earl under supreme agitation. To which the latter replies later, “These are to advertise you that the Queen remains still within these four walls, in safe keeping.” The woods and wolds, he explains, are being scoured by his spies, and the number of the guard is increased by thirty. Clang of gate, clash of steel, roll of drum—the household music of the Shrewsburys knew nothing more harmonious than these noises. At stated intervals we hear the old burthen of sturdy self-vindication in such letters as the following to Burghley:—

“My very good Lord,

“I heartily thank your good Lordship for seeking to satisfy her Majesty in some doubts she might conceive of me and my wife, upon information given to her Majesty; your Lordship therein doeth the part of a faithful friend; so I have always trusted, and you shall receive no dishonour thereby. My services and fidelity to her Majesty are such as I am persuaded with assured hope that her Majesty, having proofs enough thereof, condemneth those who so untruly surmise, against my wife first, and now myself, either of us undutiful dealing with this Queen or myself of any carelessness in regard my charge. As before I crave trial of whosoever is here noted of any indirect dealing with this Queen, so do I again require at your Lordship’s hands to be amenable to her Majesty for due proof and punishment, as they merit, that her Majesty might be fully satisfied and quiet. And for my riding abroad sometimes (not far from my charge) in respect of my health only; it has been well known to your Lordship from the first beginning of my charge, and it is true I always gave order first for safe keeping of her with a sure and stronger guard, both within my house and further off, than when myself was with her. I trusted none in my absence but those I had tried; true and faithful servants unto me, and like subjects to her Majesty. I thank God my account of this weighty charge is ready, to her Majesty’s contentation. No information nor surmise can make me shrink. Nevertheless, henceforth her Majesty’s commandment for my continual attendance upon this lady shall be obeyed, as her Majesty shall not mislike thereof; and even so, my Lord, I say to that part of your letters wherein a motion is made to me; that (as in all my services hitherto) I had, nor seek, written contentment nor will, than shall stand her Majesty’s pleasure or her best service. And so, wishing to your Lordship as well as to myself, I take my leave.

“At Sheffield this 9th of December, 1572.

“Your Lordship’s ever-assured friend, “G. SHREWSBURY.

“I have presumed to write to the Queen’s Majesty to the same effect as to your Lordship.”