Correspondance between England and Scotland

secret correspondance from Her Majesty Elizabeth of England

Dearest Marie and Nicholas,

by God, thou art a long way off the beaten path here, canst thou not get lodgings on easier roads for my letters to travel upon? It will cost me a fortune paying for food and lodgings for messengers who looseth their way many times upon their trip!

I hope you hath borh settled nicely in Scotland. Tis a cold and rainy place and the cart drivers doth drive too damn slowly for my liking. I liketh it not, but hope it to your tastes.

If young James ist free for the Summer holidays wilt he be permitted to come stay with his Auntie Bess? I refuse to permit a man taketh my hand in marraieg so children of my own are quite out of the question. However, I greatly like the role of an Aunt though my niece 'Lettice' hath displeased me greatly of late and I hath cast her aside.

I wudst wish to teach him about the governing of England and have him help me play fun tricks upon Cecil and Walsingham when they doth bore me excessively with matters of state.

My lord the Earl of Leicester hath procured a fine horse as gift for young James from me and wudst deliver it in person if you permit him visit.

Yours,
Eliz R.

P.S. Tis mighty quiet at court without you both to get in my hair. I have more time for dancing, feasting and toying with suitors I never intend to marry. I like it greatly.

From Marie R to That Usurping Bitch, err ... I mean Elizabeth:

I'm sure James would love to come and see you for the holidays, however he must perform Catholic worship and don't leave him alone with any handsome man, ever. Don't ask me why, but please don't do it.

And now that I'm out of your clutches and free to rule my own Kingdom i feel much better. My family in France has sent me diverse monies, loyal soldiers, and capable advisors. I have renewed the Auld Alliance and I'm almost positive that I have the perfect birthday present picked out for you.

All in all, it couldn't be better.

Your loving cousin, Marie.

Marie,

Now that you are settled upon Scotland's throne I have a mind to produce heirs.

So I do hope that the gift you intend is a suitable husband for me who wudst delight my every waking hour, not anger mine enemies and keep his hands off my throne.

...extra points would be given if thou canst find me a sailor with a passionate nature.

Yours,
Bess.

I suggest King Eric of Sweden. As Cecil (or Burghley, whichever) does I shall make a list of pros and cons:

Pros:

Handsome
Intelligent, not as intelligent as you, of course, but close
Wealthy
Protestant

Cons:

Slightly insane
Power hungry
A little wimpy


I cannot suggest any better.

I shall add him to the excessively long list of gentlemen who do wish my hand in marriage.

I thank you for your help Marie.

Bess.

If you don't mind a little sisterly nosing, who else are you considering?

I hope shortly to start publishing mine list of suitors dear cousin, and wudst most appreciate your sisterly advice upon them.

Ask and you shall receive ... in most cases. When you get around to publishing it, please send me a copy.

And I would be much indebted to you, dearest cousin, if you would persuade Cecil ( or is it Buirghley, now?) to stop sending me hate mail. 'Tis most vexing.

But Madam, how cudst I deny such an old and loyal servant his greatest pleasure in life? He doth live to anger you.

Okay, fine. Could you at least make him stop making the "Hare and the Mermaid" pamphlets and sending them to me and my family? I can tolerate the average "Papist Bitch", "Death of England" and "Evil Murderess" pamphlets, but if I hear the word mermaid one more time, I shall die!

Some day I'll be.. part of that world..

*dances around singing, but somehow Marie can hear it. OH WELL ITS RPG*

Under the sea.. Under the sea..

Methinks it is thine vast telepathic powers my lady that doth carry thine song to Marie's ears.

Exactly, it is an insult that she even dares title herself a mermaid whether it is slang for a whore or not. Melusina was a mermaid! *glances outside to the water*

I thought this was PRIVATE corraspondance, Elizabeth (Tudor)?

It seems our letters hath been somewhat bewitched my lady.

I think tis possibly caused by both of us interrupting each other's letters for purposes of spying... or is that just my side?

*laughs nervously*

Ehm-ehm. *looks around quickly* ... yes ... just your side ... uh-huh


MOVING ON! How be Burghley (the old swine)? I heard he was suffering most terribly from gout!

Ah, Burghley doth suffer from all ailments but tis a strong old ox and I do sometimes think he may outlive us all. He soldiers on with little complaint but that he wishes I wudst release him from his duties soon.

How ist thine brother?

Dead. Don't you recall? He was assassinated during mine ... trip to England. Or did thou mean another one of my several bastard brothers?

Tis hard to keep track of thine kin Marie... and I find it hard to believe thine mother let them continue to exist at all. She didst scare me greatly.

(unable to contain her curiosity any further and finding no knowledge for a woman's interests in the spying of Walsingham's men on the matter)

I hear thou hast a most interesting visitor of late. What think thou of Pembroke's brother? Be he someone I cudst add to mine list of possible suitors?

MY LORD!

I"m aware that you and I have at times a ... strained relationship. However, never, in my deepest depths of hatred, in the most horrid pits of jealousy would I wish that monster upon you. I'm sure the idea would give Cecil and Walsingham matching twin heart attacks. Perish the thought, dear cousin, perish the thought.

Tis a great shame... I hear he ist most dashing and quite my type.

Marie ... you do not care for your future brother? *says in a tone of mock surprise, quite clearly pleased*

Elizabeth my friend you wudst marry him over my cold dead body ... well If I were alive that would mean more I supspect but you get my meaning I am quite sure! *huffs*

My dear Nicholas,

you damned spoilsport!

Thou art to be a most happily married man and I think it fair I be allowed my own plaything shouldst I wish it!

I believe thine brother is most pleasing on the eye and I shudst enjoy well keeping him under control.

As thou art already cold, dead and lost to me in darkest Scotland I see not your involvement in the matter.

Irritably,
Bess.

My Dear Bess,

You call ME a spoil sport *insert laughter* oh that is rich!

Very well then, I shall send him to your court to leach from your coffers instead of ours, if you wish it. But thou must promise me to abuse him daily and only to return him once he is a broken husk of a man.

Your Cold, Dead, Friend

Nicholas