Текст книги "In the Shadow of the Crown "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 33 страниц)
The result was the Black Book in which were set down all the evils which were said to be practiced within those walls. I could not believe it. There were sinners everywhere, I knew, but according to Cromwell the monasteries he visited were hotbeds of vice. We heard stories of orgies between monks and nuns, of riotous and lewd behavior, of unwanted babies being strangled at birth and buried in the grounds.
It was time, said my father, in his most pious tones, that these matters were brought to light and given close examination.
There was a great deal of wealth in the monasteries, and the royal exchequer, which had been so well stocked by my shrewd and careful grandfather, had become much depleted during my father's extravagant reign. A great deal of money had been spent on his lavish entertainments, his splendid journeys, his magnificent jewels, and latterly on bribery all over Europe in the hope of getting agreement on his divorce. The exchequer needed bolstering up and the spoils from the monasteries could play a good part in doing that.
An Act had now been passed for the suppression of all monasteries whose incomes were less than £200 a year.
I wondered whether that was an experiment to see how the people reacted to it. The larger monasteries were left unmolested; but I could imagine that many an abbot was trembling in his sandals.
Then I was told that I was to meet the King, and everything else was banished from my mind.
My feelings were mixed. I wanted to see him. Part of me could not forget those days of my early childhood when he had loomed so large in my life—a god, all-powerful and gloriously benign. I had been so proud that he should be my father; and although I loved my mother more dearly than any living person, it was he who filled me with awe and admiration. His smile of approval had made me sublimely happy, and no matter how cruelly he behaved to me and those I loved, I still had the same special feeling for him which I was sure could never be entirely eradicated.
He would not come to Hunsdon; nor should I go to Court …yet. He wanted to see me first and he did not want too much noise about it. He must have felt a little uncertain about meeting a daughter who had for so many years defied him and had only just signed her submission most reluctantly.
I was to be taken at an appointed time to a country house where he would receive me.
I could not eat. I could not sleep. I hovered between excitement and apprehension. I prayed for guidance. I talked to my mother, begging her, once more, to understand why I had betrayed her in words, although in my heart I would always be true to her.
I talked to Susan Clarencieux of my fears.
She reassured me. “My lady,” she said, “you need have no fears. You are royal…as royal as the King.”
I put my finger on her lips. “Hush, Susan. I do not want to lose you. Such things as you say could be construed as treason.”
“It is true.”
“Truth can sometimes be treason, Susan. There. I am worse than you. We must guard our tongues. Let's talk of other things. What am I going to wear?”
For so long I had had few clothes and what I had were mended; but recently new garments had been sent to me and now I believed I could dress so that I would not look too shabby for the occasion.
Command came that I was to leave the following morning. Margaret Bryan came to me on the night before. She sat by my bed and held my hand as she used to in those long-ago days when my trials were just beginning.
“Have no fear,” she said. “All will be well. Remember, you are his daughter.”
“He forgot that once.”
“Nay. A man does not forget his daughter. He was plagued by other matters.”
“And I would not say what he wished me to. And now, I have, Margaret. God forgive me.”
“Hush, hush,” she said. “Everything will be understood. Try to rest. Be yourself… and all will be well.”
At the door she paused and looked at me.
“Do not forget the child,” she said. “She is only a baby. Speak for her… if there is a chance.”
I said, “I will, Margaret. But I must go carefully. He is so full of hatred for her mother now … as once he was for mine.”
“They are both gone now, God rest their souls,” said Margaret. “It is the poor children who remain.”
She then left me and I tried to compose myself and prepare for the next day's ordeal.
AT DAWN WE SET out and by mid-morning had reached our destination.
There I met the father whom I had not seen for five years. With him was his new Queen.
For a few moments we stood looking at each other. I wondered what he thought of me. When he had last seen me I had been a thin, spindly-legged girl of fifteen. Now I was a woman. I knew I had gained in dignity, especially so since I had been aware of my destiny. But I was so shocked by the change in him that I could think of little else.
When I had last seen him he had been the most handsome man I had ever known. He had stood taller than most men; he had always been recognized by his height and width at all those masques where he had delighted in trying to disguise himself. His complexion had been florid, but healthily so. Now it was purplish rather than pink. His weight had increased enormously. His was no longer an athletic figure. “Corpulent” would be a more accurate way of describing it. But it was his face in which the greater change had taken place. In the past there had been an engaging aspect. Could I call it innocence? Hardly. Perhaps rather a boyish delight in the world and himself which at that time had seemed endearing. Even in those days we had dreaded to see his mood change, which it had done now and then, and the small mouth would become a thin, straight line and the little eyes points of light almost disappearing into his full face. Much of the old benignity had departed. New lines had appeared to rob him of that quality. To look at him now, so large in his surcoat with the puffed sleeves barred with strips of fur and built-up shoulders which increased his size and made him a figure of splendor, completely over-awed me. I felt very small and insignificant beside such a glittering figure and I knew that I could never do what I had thought during my journey here that I might, which was to throw myself at his feet and beg him not to ask me to deny my mother and the Church of Rome.
To see him there, powerful and formidable in the extreme, I knew that I should never do it even if I could.
And beside him was his new Queen—slender, pretty, looking frail beside his great girth, gentle, welcoming, a little hesitant, but endeavoring to tell me she was pleased to see me.
I went to him and knelt. He gave me his hand, which I kissed. Then he made a gesture for me to stand up, so I did so.
“At last,” he said. “I rejoice to see you, daughter.”
I was trying to overcome my emotion and he sensed this. It pleased him. He saw me as the repentant daughter, asking for forgiveness because of her foolish behavior which had caused him pain.
I would have knelt to the Queen but she had taken my hands. She must have been about the same age as Anne Boleyn… but she seemed younger and I felt older in experience.
There was nothing false about the greeting she gave me. She smiled tremulously. “Oh welcome…welcome,” she said. “I have so wanted this meeting.”
The King smiled at her indulgently.
“The Queen speaks for us both,” he said.
He dismissed everyone so that we should be alone together, he said, and talk as a family should.
So we were alone and he spoke of his sufferings, of how he had been mistreated, but now that he had his good Jane beside him, all that was behind us.
He sat in the chair which had been provided for him, and Jane brought up one for me so that I could sit beside him.
“Your Grace must not wait on me,” I said.
“But it is what I want,” she told me with her rather girlish smile. “I am so happy. I have always wanted you to be at Court, and now you are going to be there.”
The King was evidently enamored of her. She was so gentle and seemed to me guileless. She was as different from Anne Boleyn as one woman can be from another. Therein, I supposed, lay her attraction.
Jane sat close to the King, who from time to time patted her knee. I thought she was like a little kitten, and I could not suppress the question which rose in my mind: How long can he be content with her?
Meanwhile she was eager to show herself my friend.
“We shall arrange for you to come to Court … in time,” said the King.
“Yes,” added Jane, “and it shall be soon.”
“I shall be leaving for the hunting season shortly,” said my father. “Perhaps after that.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” I said. Recently he had given himself the title of “Majesty” which was now generally used instead of the old “Your Grace.” After all, dukes could be Graces, but only the King—and Queen– Majesties.
“You are uneasy, daughter,” he said. “Do not be so. Now that you have confessed your faults, I forgive you freely. She who did you much harm has now reaped her just deserts. Witchcraft is a fearsome cult. It must be crushed wherever we find it. And now … if you will be my good child, I will be father to you.”
“You will be welcome at Court,” said Jane. “We shall be friends…we shall be as sisters.”
The King laughed at her. I thought her charming in her rather simple way.
He asked about my household at Hunsdon. I said that of recent date it had begun to grow.
“You shall have the comforts you once enjoyed before you were misguided enough to oppose my will.”
“I thank Your Majesty.”
“Aye… and you will find there will be much for which to thank me.”
Jane laughed happily. I thought she was really a good creature and was genuinely rejoicing in my changed fortunes.
I wondered whether I could mention Elizabeth but the dark look which had come into his face when he had spoken of her mother made me hesitate. Not yet, I thought, I must tread very carefully.
“Yes,” my father went on. “Be a good daughter and you will find me not ungenerous. I am giving you a thousand crowns so that you can indulge yourself. Get some little comforts, eh? I'll swear you could use them.”
“You are most gracious…”
His face had become soft and sentimental, as I remembered it from the past. “Aye… and ready to be more so…as you will find, will she not, Jane?”
Jane smiled from me to him. “The most generous King in the world,” she said ecstatically.
I thought how different she was from my mother as well as from Anne Boleyn. Could it be possible that this one could give him what he wanted? If she could provide a son, yes. And if not…I found myself looking at that white neck.
She had taken a diamond ring from her finger and held it out to me.
“It would make me very happy if you would wear this for me,” she said simply.
Then she took my hand and slipped the ring on my finger.
“You are so good to me,” I told her.
My father watched us, his eyes glazed with sentiment. How quickly his moods changed! I wished that I did not see him quite so clearly. Part of me wanted to go on believing in the image I had created in my childhood; but I kept thinking of my mother. On whose order had the Welsh beer been produced? Had she been poisoned? I thought of Anne Boleyn, the one for whom he had sacrificed his religious beliefs and had run the risk of losing his crown; and yet there had come the day when she had been taken out to Tower Green and her head had been cut off with a sword specially sent from France. What could I think of such a man? How could I love him? And yet, in spite of all I knew of him, in a way I did.
Poor little Jane Seymour, what would become of her?
The mood passed. Jane, with her simple reasoning, had an effect on us. She saw this as a family reunion and she made us see it as such. I lost some of my qualms; my father forgot that he was King; in that brief moment we were father and daughter, and Jane's presence, with her simple faith in the goodness of human nature, had created this scene in her imagination and, briefly, we accepted it.
It was a pleasant half hour. There was laughter: I was delighted to be with my father, for after all he had done, he was still my father, and such was the aura which surrounded him that I could suppress my fears of him. Whether it was love, I do not know; but it was something akin to it. And while we were together, I forgot that I was deceiving him, that I had lied to him; and he seemed to forget the past when he had had it in his mind to poison me or take my life in some way.
Jane was there, rejoicing that the dissension in the family was over; and everything was as it should be; in the future we should all love each other.
Such is the power of innocence.
I DID NOT SEE my father for some time. He went off with the Court for the hunting season. My household at Hunsdon was growing, as was customary for a person of my rank. People were sending me gifts. Thomas Cromwell had taken me under his wing and had sent me a horse as a present.
The newly elevated brother of Jane Seymour was now Lord Beauchamp and Chamberlain. He wrote to ask me what clothes I needed.
I was delighted. I was able to ask for some materials which Margaret could make into clothes for Elizabeth. I was getting quite fond of my little half-sister. She was such an engaging child, and our friendship gave great pleasure to Margaret. My reconciliation with my father delighted her, and that helped to ease my conscience. She was fond of me but the darling of her heart was young Elizabeth, and she was so pleased because she thought I should be able to do something about the neglect from which the poor child was suffering.
Then there was trouble in the North which gave me some uneasiness for, in my vulnerable position, I could so easily be implicated.
The appearance of the Black Book, containing its accusations against monks and nuns, and the suppression of the smaller monasteries, had been the cause of this unrest. The first sign of trouble was in Lincolnshire but this was quickly suppressed by the Earl of Shrewsbury, who assured the objectors that everything that had happened had been sanctioned by Parliament.
It was not long before a more serious revolt broke out in Yorkshire. The people were against the break with Rome and they wanted the Supremacy of the Church to be in the hands of the Pope as it always had been. A man called Robert Aske led the people on what he called the Pilgrimage of Grace. They marched with banners depicting Christ on the cross on one side and on the other a chalice and wafer. They did not accept the King as Supreme Head of the Church. The Pope had been for them and their fathers Christ's Vicar on Earth and still was. No Acts of Parliament could change that. They wanted the true religion brought back to England.
The revolt quickly spread through the North. These men were ready to fight for the religion they wanted. But there were rumors. If they succeeded, the King, who had set himself up as Head of the Church, would naturally be deposed. He had in their eyes one legitimate heir, for they had always believed that my mother was the true Queen of England and legally married to the King. That heir was the Princess Mary; and although their main aim was to restore the true religion, it was hinted that it was also their plan to set me on the throne.
I was in acute danger. Chapuys was soon on the spot to advise me.
“Keep out of sight,” he warned me.
“Do not be seen in any public place. Keep to the house and the gardens. We will watch events closely.”
The King was very disturbed, as he always must be when some of his subjects were in revolt, and as it was an uprising of this size there was something to be really anxious about.
He sent an army up to the North. I was certain that the rebels would not be able to stand against it and there would be terrible slaughter. However, the rain was heavy and prolonged and the land became so water-logged that the two armies could not approach each other.
There were many who were ready to interpret this as a sign from God. He was working a miracle to save the rebels. My father was loth to go to war with his own subjects and after discussions with those close to him, he sent a message to say that he would pardon all rebels, and if they would prepare a list of their grievances he would study them carefully.
The insurgents, no doubt feeling they had made their point, returned to their homes. The King had suggested that their leader Robert Aske should come to London, where he would be received and differences discussed.
Just after this I was surprised to receive a visit from the King.
It was one morning when I returned from riding to find the household in a flutter of excitement. The King, out hunting, had called and was in the house. He was impatiently waiting to see me, and I had better go to him with all speed.
I found him pacing up and down in the salon. He was alone.
I went to him and knelt. He took my hands and kissed them with a show of tenderness.
“I trust I find Your Majesty in good health,” I said.
“Yes…yes… and you, daughter?”
I thanked him for his gracious enquiry and told him that I was well.
He shook his head impatiently. “There has been trouble with these rebels in the North,” he said.
“I trust it is settled to Your Majesty's pleasure.”
“Yes…yes. That was soon put to rights. There'll be no more trouble from them. There were some who would have it that you were involved in it.”
“I swear I knew nothing about them.”
He lifted a hand. “I know it. I know it. But when these fools start meddling in matters of which they know nothing… they will speak of you.”
“It is my earnest regret that they should do so.”
“You are a loyal subject then?”
“I am, Your Majesty. I do not forget that I am your daughter.”
He nodded. “Methinks you speak truth. Do you know, there is one thing I abhor… and I will do all in my power to stamp it out. It is dishonesty.”
I was beginning to tremble.
“Myself…I am a stranger to that vice,” he went on. “You may think that there are occasions when a king must speak what is an untruth…for the sake of diplomacy, eh?”
“I am an ignorant woman, Your Majesty. I know nothing of these matters.”
He grunted, suggesting approval of my attitude. “I will not do that. Nay!” He began to shout. “Even though I am told it is expedient and it is not dishonesty in the normal sense…‘This is for the country,' they may say, but no: I am an honest man.”
I lifted my eyes and tried to look admiring; but I could not stop thinking of all he had done and how he had talked of his conscience, how he had made it work for him, so that all his deeds were wrapped in a covering of righteousness. It was hard to hide my feelings when he talked of dishonesty—but I must.
This was one of those occasions when he believed himself, and he saw no reason why I should not believe him either.
“I want to be sure of your sincerity,” he said.
I felt my knees would not support me, and I was afraid he would see my hands trembling and would regard my fear as evidence of my guilt.
“You signed the Act of Submission,” he said. “You agreed that my marriage to your mother was invalid, and you accepted me, as did my loyal subjects, as Head of the Church.”
“Yes,” I said faintly.
“Will you give me a truthful answer?”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” I said even more quietly.
“You had much to gain from signing, had you not?”
“I yearned for Your Majesty's favor.”
“Aye. Your fate depended on it, did it not? You would have been a fool not to sign, and I do not think you are a fool, daughter. Your mother would not give in. It would have been easier for her if she had. But you are made of different stuff.”
Yes, I thought, common clay. I could never be the martyr she was. I lack her goodness, her saintliness.
“But tell me this,” he went on. “Did you agree with your heart as well as your pen?”
I dared not hesitate. To do so would be fatal. I had my mission, my destiny.
I answered, “Yes, Your Majesty.”
He gave me an expansive smile and took me in his arms.
“Then, daughter,” he said, “we are in truth good friends. You have told me that you signed the submission in good faith, and that pleases me. There are some who would suggest that you were forced to do this. You and I, daughter, know that this is not so. But there are those doubters, and I would have them know the truth. You will help me to dispel their doubts, good daughter that you have now become. There are two of these doubters to whom I would have you address yourself. One is the Emperor Charles; the other is the Pope.”
I was appalled. Was it not enough that I had signed his document? Must I deny my love for my mother, my adherence to the Faith? Must I tell this to the whole world?
Refusal trembled on my lips. I saw myself languishing in the Tower, tried for treason, brought out to Tower Hill as his beloved, the ill-fated Anne Boleyn, had been.
Where was that shining dream? I must bring England back to the Faith.
I was not merely a devoted daughter: I was a woman fighting for her future, perhaps her life, but my life was of little importance beside what I must do for the Faith.
He was looking at me intently; his little eyes were benign at the moment, but I knew how quickly they could change.
I heard myself say, “Yes, Your Majesty, I will write to them. I will tell them that I am in agreement with everything that has been done and will be done.”
He could be charming when pleased. I could see why men followed him. He was like the father I had known in my childhood. He seized me in his arms and held me against his jewel-encrusted jacket. I felt the stones pressing into my heart. I despised myself. I murmured apologies to my mother; but I knew this had to be done.
“Now,” he said, “all is well, and this is a delight to me. I like it not when there is discord in families. From now on you are my dear daughter. You shall come to Court. All shall be as it should be between a father and his daughter.”
He was in an excellent mood, and I was fighting to hide my despondency. He would prepare drafts for me to send to the Emperor and the Pope. All I needed to do would be to sign them and the matter would be most happily settled from his point of view.
I was becoming devious. I was playing my own games as carefully as he played his; only perhaps I had more of the quality which he so much admired: honesty—and with myself. I despised myself and yet I knew that what I was doing was necessary. I could honestly say I was not doing it to preserve my life or to bring myself a comfortable style of living. Always I had the main object in mind; and it was for that I lied and dissembled.
I was thankful that I could see people freely now; and when Chapuys visited me I gave him an account of my interview with my father.
“You did what was right,” he told me.
“But I have lied. I have denied my legitimacy and dishonored my mother.”
“Sometimes it is necessary to act against one's conscience if the matter is great enough.”
“I do not wish the Emperor to regard me as a weakling who has given way to save her life.”
“The Emperor knows well your purpose.”
“I wish to write to him personally to tell him that what I have officially sent to him is untrue.”
“Do so,” he said, “and I will see that the letter reaches him.”
“If it did not and was discovered, that would be the end of my hopes… and of me.”
Chapuys nodded gravely. “It shall not be discovered. All the hopes of the Church rest with you. I swear to you that your letter will be delivered safely into the Emperor's hands.”
“I must also write to the Pope.”
“Do that. They will be sure then that you are working for God and the Church.”
He smiled at me and went on, “You are anxious. You fear that you have betrayed your mother. Rest assured that she understands. This country of England will have reason to thank you. You are going to bring it back to the Faith when the time comes.”
He took my letters. I had visions of their falling into the hands of my father. I dared not dwell on what my fate would be if they did. But I could trust Chapuys, and my cousin Charles would know that I was no traitor to the Faith.
Thus I was able to still my conscience.
