didn't want to talk about it."
"But you know?"
"Oh yes."
"So what had she done?"
"He thought she had betrayed him and his father."
"How?"
"By marrying her second husband within a month of the first one's death."
"That does seem a bit hasty, Ma'am."
"Edward felt the same way. In fact, the young Earl protested so much that he was sent away to live in London as a royal ward. Unfortunately for Edward, Burghley, who was England's Lord Chamberlain - Elizabeth's closest advisor - had just been appointed Master of the Royal Wards.
"This new honor was yet another sign of the man's total ascendancy at Court. But he'd paid dearly for his high rank. The years of scheming and backstabbing had left indelible marks. Burghley's forehead was creased with cares. His once-spare frame now hung heavy and flabby. Gout was beginning to riddle both legs. To the Lord Chamberlain, these were costs well worth paying. After all, he controlled a kingdom.
"Burghley ran his household, like the country, with an iron hand. Yet, while the schemer may have commanded all of England, there was one rebellious subject he couldn't rule: Edward.
"The Lord Chamberlain's first ward was his opposite in almost every way possible."
BURGHLEY HOUSE
Edward guided his horse off the Strand and up a long driveway towards Burghley's London home. The huge square pile of white stone stood in vast, landscaped grounds near the middle of the bustling city, its opulence a fitting tribute to Burghley's exalted office.
The first clash occurred shortly after Edward's arrival. He was escorted up a polished marble staircase to Burghley's office. The Master of the Royal Wards had prepared a list of rules for those placed into his care. Burghley was eager to introduce his first ward to these morsels of wisdom. He acknowledged Edward's bow with a brief nod and waved the boy into a seat at an ornate writing table, in front of paper and pen.
"Take up the quill, boy," Burghley commanded. Edward picked up the pen slowly. It felt awkward in his hand. With the exception of one brief eulogy, he hadn't written a word since his father's death.
"Feel free to take notes as I read from my list of rules," the Lord Chamberlain said imperiously. He then began pacing the room, reading his list in a hectoring, self-righteous tone:
"Costly your habit as your purse can buy, but not expressed in fancy; rich not gaudy; for the apparel often proclaims the man. Give every man your ear, but few your voice. Take each man's advice, but reserve your judgment. Always keep some great man for your friend..."
Like most powerful figures, the Lord Chamberlain was accustomed to speaking without interruption. After years of such social deference, accorded him by an obsequious family and staff alike, Burghley had become extremely long winded.
As he droned on, Edward's active imagination hunted around for some distraction. Soon his mind's eye had transformed Burghley into a character performing on a stage. The audience fell about laughing. The less Burghley noticed his own pomposity, the louder the audience laughed. After 10 minutes or so, Edward, for want of any better pastime, began lightly sketching this scene on the paper in front of him.
Fifteen minutes later, Burghley moved to his concluding remarks: "Beware of entrance to a quarrel, but being in, bear it that the opposed may beware of you." The Lord Chamberlain paused, lifting a finger in pointed emphasis. "Neither a lender nor a borrower be, for loan often loses both itself and friend.
"This above all: To thine own self be true, and it must follow as the night the day, you canst not then be false to any man."
Laying down his notes reverentially, as if they were some great text handed down by ancient prophets, Burghley walked over to Edward and asked, "Well, what do you think of those rules? I'm going to call them my first precepts..."
Burghley's voice trailed off as he saw Edward's sketch lying on the table. It included a distinctly unflattering caricature of the Lord Chamberlain.
Grabbing a handful of the boy's hair, Burghley hauled Edward to his feet. No one had ever pulled on Edward's hair before. As the young Earl wriggled in Burghley's tight grasp, he could hardly believe such pain existed.
"You insolent wretch!" Burghley bellowed in his ear. Releasing Edward, he snatched up the sketch and tore it into tiny pieces. Then, still seething with rage, he shoved the boy towards the door, shouting, "Get out! Get out!"
After he had calmed down, Burghley decided that the best way to deal with Edward would be to keep him occupied at all times. Picking up his pen, the Lord Chamberlain drew up a list of daily activities for the young Earl.
He ordered that Edward's day should begin at seven with lessons covering such subjects as French, Latin, Greek, Cosmography, Penmanship, Writing, and Drawing. Active pursuits like fencing and horsemanship were deliberately omitted. Smiling to himself, Burghley laid his pen aside, confident that Edward would be too busy to trouble him further.
-:-:-
Isolated from normal family influences, Edward did indeed bury himself in books and study. At first, he amused himself writing tirades against Burghley, which he stored under lock and key in his writing box.
Soon, Edward moved beyond merely unburdening himself to crafting a wide range of stories and poems. Ever since his father's death, sleep had become a rare, precious gift and he spent many long nights writing, using candles he kept hidden from Burghley.
Alone in the bookroom, Edward learned to be content and even to prosper in his own company. Bookrooms were only just becoming fashionable, and Burghley, as befitted his high rank, had created one of the finest in England.
Ancient scrolls and parchments lay scattered amongst a vast collection of maps and books. Edward discovered the riches of Chaucer, Copernicus, Cicero, Plutarch, and Plato gathering dust on Burghley's shelves. He was sustained by a vivid inner world peopled with these giants.
After 6 months or so, the Earl embarked on a detailed history of the Oxfords. He began with Aubrey de Vere's arrival in England from France, shortly before William the Conqueror. Aubrey earned great favor when he supported William's invasion in 1066. His grandson became the first Earl of Oxford.
Edward originally conceived of this family history as an epic poem. But, as he pushed his pen across the pages, the poem grew into a series of stage plays, which Edward imagined being performed at Castle Hedingham.
Delving deeply into English history, Edward was delighted to discover that he was by no means the first Oxford to chafe at the restrictions of authority. The third Earl, for example, had helped force King John into signing the Magna Carta. The twelfth Earl had been executed on Edward IV's orders. His son escaped to the Continent where he lived as an outlaw. In 1485, the thirteenth Earl returned at Henry Tudor's side, and engineered Richard III's defeat at the Battle of Bosworth Field.
Edward spent hours strutting around acting out his ancestors' heroic achievements to the unmoved walls. He became his own best audience. The young Earl was also his own harshest critic. No matter how Edward pored over his lines, he always ended up dissatisfied with these early plays. They stayed locked away, well out of his guardian's reach.
-:-:-
