The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex Page #3

Time presses, events crowd upon her.

And for a shell...

...an empty, glittering husk...

...she must give up all

that a woman holds most dear.

And now...

...fetch me Master Francis Bacon.

- Master Bacon?

- At once.

Yes, Your Majesty.

Will your steps always be so laggard

when I send for you, Master Bacon?

My steps have lost the habit

of being summoned by you.

And your tongue has lost

none of its sharpness, I see.

To bed and hopeful dreams.

You're a friend of my Lord Essex,

aren't you?

- I am whatever Your Grace desires.

- And your own interest dictates.

Anyway, you know him better

than any other man.

- Why has he not returned to court?

- Not for lack of attraction...

...but possibly his pride.

- A pox on his pride!

He must come home. I command it!

You need him back so badly,

Your Grace?

Purely for matters of state.

Do you understand?

Perfectly, madam.

Bacon. Bacon, stop being clever.

I'm too tired to fence with you.

I can't force him back,

and you know it.

And he's so stupid,

so stubborn, so pigheaded...

...that he'll never return of his own

accord unless I humble myself to him.

And that I'll never do. Never!

- Do you hear?

- Naturally, Your Majesty.

Naturally! It's against all nature

that I should suffer so.

Tell me, what shall I do?

Find me a way to compel his return

without having to punish him.

I'll not be ungrateful.

My reward would lie

in your happiness.

And the advantage to you

in his return to favor, of course.

I'll not deny it, madam.

But how to persuade him and still save

the pride of each, I'm hanged if I know.

Perhaps if I slept the night upon it.

What is it?

- A courier from Ireland, Your Majesty.

- Have him enter.

Your Majesty.

I came...

Bacon. Wine. Quickly.

Chair.

Allow me, Your Majesty.

- Pardon, Majesty.

- Never mind that. What is the news?

We have been annihilated

in Ireland, Your Grace.

Tyrone surprised us.

Sir William Baganold is dead.

Every company, troop, arms,

stores, everything, utterly destroyed.

Wars, death, famine

in that unhappy land.

And for what?

A few miserable acres

of fever-smitten bog...

...and handfuls of tattered peasants

whose only desire is to be left in peace...

...to cut each other's throats.

Well, they may.

I'll put an end to it.

Not another man goes to Ireland.

And let Philip of Spain use it as a base?

He's not forgotten Cdiz, remember.

And whoever holds Ireland

points a dagger at the heart of England.

I suppose you're right,

but I'm sick of this bloodshed.

My policy has always been peace...

...and this war was forced upon me.

And Ireland...

Get a physician.

- Give him the best of food and lodging.

- Yes, Your Majesty.

One moment.

What of Sir Peter Finchley?

- Is he dead too?

- Yes, Your Majesty. He was struck down.

My thanks to you.

Take good care of him.

His nose crinkles when he laughs...

...and his eyes blue, like cornflowers.

And when he looked at her...

Oh, Bacon...

...I'm only a woman.

Must I carry the weight,

the agony of the world...

...alone?

- Not any longer, Your Majesty.

If you form a new army,

you'll need a leader.

- Who?

- Essex.

If you demand his return now,

he can no longer refuse.

- 'Tis his duty.

- What?

And send him to death

and ruin in Ireland?

Then make him master

of the ordnance.

In that capacity, he'll remain in London

and available for consultation.

Go to him.

Tell him I have need of him.

Your Majesty.

Bacon...

...as you leave the chamber...

...bid Mistress Margaret Radcliffe

come to me.

My pleasure, Your Majesty.

Poor child.

Poor child.

Her Majesty does not beg you, my lord.

She commands you to return.

What? She commands me?

She insults me in front of the court

and now she commands me?

To the devil with her.

If you lose your head now,

you'll lose it in earnest later on.

You're talking of your queen.

My queen?

The great-granddaughter

of a Welsh pantryman.

To the devil with her. I'll stay here.

Your answer will please

those around the queen.

- Why? What do you mean?

- Haven't you heard?

Cecil, laden with honors.

Coke, appointed attorney general.

And Raleigh, working himself

into favor.

Every day, he grows nearer to her

in counsel, closer in her affection.

Raleigh, that toad.

She's bought him new silver armor,

whose magnificence outshines the sun.

He grows closer to her in affection,

you say?

For lack of someone dearer.

She loves you.

- But, being a woman, she has her pride.

- Her pride.

Look, there's no mystery

to handling women.

They're like this lady here. You starve

them a little to make them keen.

Starve them too long,

they turn and rend you.

- I'll look to myself.

- Better look to England.

- Baganold's been defeated in Ireland.

- What's that?

- Baganold defeated?

- Killed, and his army destroyed.

That is the reason Her Majesty

commands you to return. She needs you.

Well, of course she needs me...

...with nincompoops like Raleigh

around her.

- Mountjoy!

- Milord.

Back to Wanstead and pack.

We're returning immediately to London.

My dear Sir Walter.

Well, well, well.

You're even more splendid

than I'd imagined.

Even in my retreat, news came

of that silver armor of yours.

- I was ill. I swear it cured me.

- I'm glad you're well.

You should have heard

the compliments on you.

"Sir Walter's in silver," they said.

"The world has been outdone."

- You need not repeat them.

- Oh, but I insist.

The design. The workmanship.

Look, Bacon. Magnificent, is it not?

And I said to myself,

"The great man."

This is what we needed.

More silver armor.

Silver everywhere. Oceans of silver.

Sir Walter has set the style.

The world will follow.

When I heard Her Majesty herself

admired it, I...

Wait, gentlemen. A moment.

Ho there, guard attendant!

I sent for the silversmiths...

...and had them produce enough armor

for the queen's personal guard.

Take care, my lord.

I bear insults badly.

Insults?

What insults? You ordered

that armor in the queen's service.

- I ordered a dozen more like it.

- I've endured much from you!

And will endure more!

There can be no quarreling here. Have

you forgotten a certain appointment?

- Bacon, you protect me?

- I protect you both.

You may have your laugh,

Lord Essex. Come, gentlemen.

Another lecture? Come, schoolmaster.

Essex, when will you realize how vital

it is not to make enemies at court?

I'll make friends and enemies

to please myself.

Now they'll need friends

more than I do.

You have been my friend and patron.

My star is fixed to yours.

Since I've no wish to see that star fall,

I'll ask you one question:

When you see the queen,

what do you intend?

To pacify her? Retain her favors

and all that go with it?

Or to set yourself against her

and trust your fortunes to the mob?

I'll not answer you directly,

but this I will say:

I've never loved nor hated

for a policy or a purpose...

...and I'll burn in eternity

before I'll ever start it.

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