Christmas Present

At table. Mary sits at the seat of power. She is anxious and not well. To her right is a gift box. Bess enters.

Bess: Your Majesty.

Mary: Shut up.

Bess: I respect you. I want to show it.

Mary: Siddown.

A moment. The sisters assess each other.

Bess: How are things with Philip?

Mary: He sent a proxy to our engagement party.

Bess: Oh. Darn.

Mary: And his father sent me a present.

Mary shows Bess the pendant brooch.

Sorta hoped he’d do the shopping / himself.

Bess: Oooo, a pearl. A really big pearl.

A long silence while Mary continues to look at Bess. Bess feels this.

Mary: Do you trust me?

Bess: With what?

Mary: Talk to me. About the rift. Between us.

Bess: (a little too defensive) What have you found out?

Mary: Good Lord: what are you hiding?!

An impasse.

Bess: (the rift) Okay. Like. Politically?

Mary: Let’s start with religion.

Bess: Well . . . I don’t see us as being that divided. I mean, I come to mass with you every day.

Mary: Do you keep your fingers crossed?

Bess: What do you mean by that?

A moment.

Mary: Where do you think God is?

Bess: In England?

Mary: If God was a part of your body, what part would God be?

Bess: I think . . . my mind.

Well . . . ?

Is there a right answer?

Mary: No.

Bess: My mind, then. Where do you think?

Mary: My heart.

Bess: Oh.

Both, right?

Mary: The heart is more sentimental than the mind. More emotional. More . . . out of control.

Bess: I never thought of it that way.

Mary: You don’t believe in the old traditions, do you?

Bess: These questions are weird.

Mary: Don’t! equivocate!

Bess: Okay! Why do you want to know?

Mary: Because . . . it’s the only way out.

Bess: Of what.

Mary: If you believe one thing, and I believe another thing, one of us has to change what they believe: one of us has to convert.

Bess: Or what?

Mary: Or you and I will never have peace. Our country will never integrate again.

Bess looks at Mary without giving anything away.

Simon says I should worry about you.

Bess: Oh, I’m all right. I had that little cold last week, that’s all —

Mary: Bess. Worry about you.

Bess: Oh. Like that kind of worry.

Mary: My engagement to Spain has pissed off the French.

Bess: You had to know that would happen.

Mary: The French are pushing me to marry / Edward —

Bess: Edward Courtenay.

Mary: Uhuh. It would be an . . . impressive strategy, don’t you think? One that you might choose.

Bess: He is the great-grandson of a king.

Mary: You like him, don’t you.

Bess: I think he’s cute.

Mary: I’ve heard.

Bess: What?

Mary: That the French are backing a plan to put you and Courtenay on the throne.

Bess: Together?

Mary: Married.

Bess: On your throne?

Mary: That’s the one.

Bess: You know how I feel about rumours.

Mary: I’ve taken action against him.

Bess: Oh?

Mary: Courtenay’s in custody.

Bess: Oh. Is he.

Mary: We’re questioning him now.

Bess: What do you think he’ll say?

Mary: Everything. I don’t suppose he wants another fifteen years in the Tower.

Bess: I don’t suppose.

Mary: What do you think he’ll say about you?

Bess: There’s nothing to say.

Mary: Off the record.

Bess: I don’t speak off the record. You taught me that.

Mary: I did. Which only complicates the picture.

Bess: How?

Mary: I can’t trust you!

Bess: That’s not / fair.

Mary: You’ve done it before, Bess! With Thom? To Eddie?

(asking the question) Are you going to marry Edward Courtenay and try to take the throne from / me?

Bess: You’d rather I was married off to some lonely European three times my age and sent to Lower / Slobbovia!

Mary: Oh, for Pete’s sake: answer me honestly for / once!

Bess: (answering honestly) Okay. Your ideas are ridiculous: you can’t put the country in reverse; it won’t work.

I’m just being prudent. You give me no / choice.

Mary: Don’t do this. Don’t do this. God, you are just like your moth/er.

Bess: I am / not!!

Mary: You look just like her. You’re about the same age now as she was / when — [Anne came on the scene with Henry].

Bess: I can’t help looking like my / mother.

Mary: Forgive me for all the hatred you stir in my / heart.

Bess: Hate me! Go on then! Hate / me!

Mary: I want you to go. Go.

Bess: No.

Mary: go! So I / don’t —

Bess: I can believe what you believe. I can believe anything.

Mary: See, your heart can’t possibly do that. It would just be changing your mind.

Bess: Don’t send me away, Mary. Don’t. Don’t send me / away!

Mary: You’ll do anything to get what you / want!

Bess: I can’t help being more determined than you. I was born this way. I can’t help being the talented sister.

Mary reels.

Mary: You’ll kill me, won’t you. You won’t even / blink.

Bess: Don’t ask those / questions.

Mary: Jesus. I have helped / you!

Bess: You promised Father.

Mary: And what? Oh, I get it. That’s why you promise nothing. That’s why you are faithful to no one. That’s why you have no religion: you make no choices; you sit on the fence, because / then —

Bess: Then no one gets hurt.

Mary: I am someone! If you kill me it will hurt!

Bess: Never. I would never do that, Mary. You have to believe me.

Mary: But if I just happen to die as a result of one of your plots, then . . .

Bess: We are after the same thing.

Mary: no!

Bess: Yes. And you don’t have what it takes. You may have inherited the right to rule, but you simply don’t have the talent.

Mary: It doesn’t take talent to draft legislation and have you killed!

Bess: Do it then. Don’t just threaten it! Let’s see you do / it!

Mary: Damn / you!

Bess: No, damn you!

Mary: One of us will be damned. It’s inevitable. One of us will be damned by the other’s indoctrination. Because there is a chasm between us that will never be bridged. Because I can’t trust you. And you won’t trust me.

An impasse.

Bess: I’m sorry, Mary.

Mary: For what.

Bess: For being the one who’ll win.

Mary: Fuck you.

Mary makes up her mind to proceed.

Here.

Mary hands Bess the gift box.

I was saving it for Christmas.

Bess: Don’t send me away. I don’t have anyone anymore.

Mary: Just! Take it! Take it with you. Put it in your stocking at Hatfield.

Bess: You think you can hurt me?

Mary: Go!

Bess: No!

Another impasse.

I can hurt you more. You have to kill Jane Grey!

Mary: I don’t. I don’t.

Bess: She’ll never convert. Her faith is in her heart. Just like yours. You have to kill that sentimental heart. You have no choice!

Bess opens the box and takes out a small silver crucifix. She looks at it. Looks at Mary. She makes the sign of the cross, then kisses the crucifix.