Текст книги "In the Shadow of the Crown "
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
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Текущая страница: 25 (всего у книги 33 страниц)
No, I thought, she dared not. I remembered how they had beaten her in her childhood. I felt a grim amusement to think of those harsh parents doing homage to their daughter whom they had so ill-treated.
“I did not want to put it on,” she continued. “I was afraid of it. They said they would have another made for my husband, for it was the Duke's wish that he should be crowned with me. I could not allow this. I did not want the crown myself, but at least I had some claim to it through my birth. But that they should crown Guilford because they had made me marry him…I would not have it. I said that if they made me Queen I must have some authority. They were so angry with me. They forgot for a time that they had made me Queen. They maltreated me…
“Your Majesty, you should know that I am ready to die for what I did, for that deserves death. But, dear Majesty, it was not of my doing.”
I read this with tears in my eyes. It was true. I thought of her unhappy life. The happiest hours she had known must have been with Edward when they pored over their books and enjoyed a friendly rivalry as to who could learn their lessons the more quickly. And now, here she was, a prisoner in the Tower, awaiting death.
How could I ever bring myself to harm her?
MY THOUGHTS WERE PREOCCUPIED with marriage; and Reginald Pole was in the forefront of them. I wondered what he looked like after all these years. He was sixteen years older than I, and that would make him fifty-three years of age. Hardly an age for marrying.
I was excited to receive a letter from him. I opened it with eagerness, wondering if it would contain a reference to a marriage between us. I was not sure how I should feel about that; but I reminded myself that, if it did come to pass, it would have the blessing of my mother and the Countess if they were watching in Heaven, for it would be the fulfillment of their dearest wish.
He congratulated me on my accession to the throne. But his greatest pleasure was in the fact that he hoped to be receiving from me directions as to how we should set about restoring papal authority to England. There was one sentence in his letter which indicated clearly that marriage had been far from his mind, for he advised me not to marry. There would be plans for me but I was no longer young, and it would be better to remain single so that I should have full authority to bring about the necessary religious reforms.
It was hardly the letter of a lover.
There was also a letter from Friar Peto who, when he had escaped from England after he had so offended my father, had lived with Reginald ever since. I remember how Peto had angered my father from the pulpit when he had openly criticized him for deserting my mother. He it was who had said that, as had happened with Ahab, the dogs would lick his blood after his death. The prophecy had come true. There was no doubt that Peto was a brave and holy man.
“Do not marry,” he wrote to me. “If you do you will be the slave of a young husband. Besides, at your age, the chances of bringing heirs to the throne are doubtful and, moreover, would be dangerous.”
I felt depressed after reading these letters. The truth was stressed, by the blunt Peto, and I had to face the facts. I was too old for childbearing. But it had been one of the dearest wishes of my life to have a child, and in my heart I would never really give up the hope. It was doubly necessary for me to have a child now. I should give birth to an heir. If not…Elizabeth would follow me, and who could tell what Elizabeth would do?
She was being very cautious now. She was in a difficult and highly dangerous position and none would recognize that more clearly than Elizabeth. I who knew her well could read the alertness in her eyes. She was taking each step with the utmost care.
I must have a child.
I would not listen to Peto or Reginald. They had been too long out of England. They had probably heard of my bouts of ill health. No doubt they had been exaggerated. I did believe they had been in some measure due to my insecure position. When I think of all the years I had lived close to the axe…surely that could have accounted for my delicate state of health?
But I had come through. God had shown clearly that He had chosen me to fulfill this mission.
I had to succeed… and I would. I would have an heir. And for that reason I must marry quickly.
Ever since his release from the Tower, I had seen a great deal of Edward Courtenay. I had made his mother, Gertrude, who was the Marchioness of Exeter, a lady of my bedchamber; and it seemed that Edward was constantly at my side. I did not complain of this. He was a most attractive young man.
I was amazed that he, who had lived the greater part of his life in the Tower, could be so knowledgeable about the world, and so charming.
He owed a great deal to his good looks, which were outstanding. I noticed my sister Elizabeth's eyes on him. She had always had a liking for handsome men, as she had shown in the case of Thomas Seymour. She was flirtatious by nature, and when I saw Edward Courtenay paying attention to her, I told myself he could hardly do anything else. She so blatantly asked for admiration.
So I considered Edward Courtenay. He had so much to recommend him. Charm, good looks, vitality, but perhaps most important of all, his father's mother had been Princess Catharine, the youngest daughter of Edward IV, so he was of the blood royal.
He was about ten years younger than I. Was that important? My thoughts had turned to marriage, as they must do before it was too late. There might just be time if I married quickly; and I was more likely to become pregnant if my husband was a young man rather than an old one.
I had had such ill luck with my proposed marriages, but that was because of what they called my dubious birth. The constant question had been, was I or was I not illegitimate? Now that was all over. I was the acknowledged Queen of England, and there would be many eager to marry me.
The more I saw of Edward Courtenay, the more I liked the idea.
He was very merry and kept us amused. He talked of his years in the Tower, but there was nothing morbid in his conversation; he was one of those people who find life amusing; he made a joke of the smallest things which were truly no joke, but while one was with him one accepted them as such. One laughed with the laughter of happiness rather than amusement. I felt younger in his presence than I ever had in my life.
I began to ask myself if I were in love.
I wondered what the people would think of such a marriage. They would be delighted, I was sure. In the first place they would approve of my sharing my throne with an Englishman. Foreigners were always suspect. A young man who had been imprisoned by my father and set free by me…a young man with whom I had fallen in love and he with me…it was so romantic. The people loved romance.
They would approve, but what of the Council? There would be opposition from them; they never liked to see one of their own set above them. But what of that? Was I not the Queen? Was it not for me to decide the question of my marriage? I should certainly have my own way.
Simon Renard came to see me again. I was sure his all-seeing eyes had already detected the growing friendship between myself and Edward Courtenay.
As soon as he talked to me, I began to see that I had been living in a foolish, romantic dream.
There should be as little delay as possible in your marriage,” he said. “The Emperor has always had a fondness for you. He would marry you, but he is much too old.”
I felt emotional at the thought of marrying the Emperor. Ever since that day when my mother had presented me to him at Greenwich, and he had made much of me, he had been a leading figure in my imagination. He was the greatest and most powerful figure in Europe, and I had always convinced myself that he was my savior. In fact, it had been his diplomatic presence that had done that rather than any act of his. In any case I had kept my awe of him.
“But,” Renard was saying, “he has a son, Philip. He is as devout a Catholic as ever was. He is the Emperor's beloved son, and the Emperor is of the opinion that there should be a match between you. It is a suggestion. I bring it to you before I take it to the Council.”
When he left me, I was in deep thought. Philip, son of the Emperor. He was my second cousin, I supposed, since the Emperor was my cousin. A devout Catholic—one who would help me bring England back to Rome. He would be younger than I by eleven years. But it seemed I was destined to have a husband either my senior or my junior by a good many years.
Renard had said, “Think of it. I am sure such a great marriage would bring you great joy.”
I was not sure. I had been thinking too much of Edward Courtenay. But queens have other matters with which to occupy themselves than romantic dreams.
THE CORONATION WAS FIXED for the 1st of October.
On the previous day I left the Tower in a litter drawn by six white horses. I was dressed in blue velvet decorated with ermine, and over my head was a caul netted in gold and decorated with precious stones. I found it rather heavy and looked forward to having it replaced with the crown. As I passed along, followed by my ladies, all in crimson velvet, I was immensely gratified by the cheers of the crowd.
There were also cheers for Elizabeth, who followed me in an open carriage shared with Anne of Cleves. They were identically dressed in blue velvet gowns with the long hanging sleeves made fashionable by Elizabeth's mother. All members of the household were there in the green and white Tudor colors; and my dear Sir Henry Jerningham, who was now the Captain of the Royal Guard, brought up the rear.
The citizens of London had shown themselves to be wholehearted in the matter of welcoming me. There was music everywhere, and I was met by giants and angels; and what delighted the people was that the conduits ran with wine. And, passing these splendid displays, we came at length to Whitehall.
I was so tired that I slept well that night in spite of the ordeal which lay before me the following day.
I felt a great exultation, a belief in myself. I felt the presence of God within me. He had chosen me for this mission, and I was convinced now that He had brought me to it in His way. The sufferings of my youth had been necessary to strengthen my character. I had a great task before me, and I must perform it well; and so should I, with God's help. So, after praying on my knees, I went to bed and knew no more until they awakened me in the morning.
October of the year 1553. It is a day I shall never forget—the day when I truly became the Queen of England, for no monarch is truly King or Queen until he or she has been anointed.
With my party I went by barge to the private stairs of Westminster Palace. It was a shell now after the great fire which had happened during my father's time. The Parliament Chamber was, however, still standing, and there I was taken to put on my robes and be made ready for the procession to the Abbey.
It was eleven o'clock when we set out. In my crimson robes, I walked under the canopy, which was, according to custom, carried by the wardens of the Cinque Ports. I was aware of Elizabeth immediately behind me. Her presence there seemed symbolic. I was glad Anne of Cleves was still beside her.
The ceremony should have been performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury, but this was Thomas Cranmer, who was, at this time, in the Tower. He had been involved in the plot to set Jane Grey on the throne, although he had tried to persuade Edward against changing the succession; but Edward himself had asked him to sign his will and, with a hint of a threat, my brother had said that he hoped he was not going to be more refractory than the rest of the household. I could see the dilemma Cranmer was in. He did not agree that the King should change the succession, but at the same time he was a strong supporter of the Reformed Faith and he knew that when I came to the throne I would regard it as my duty to turn the country back to Rome. He was committed to the Protestant cause; and therefore, when the people had shown so clearly that I was the Queen they wanted, he was sent to the Tower and was there awaiting judgement.
So it was out of the question for him to perform the ceremony; and in his place was my good friend Stephen Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester, accompanied by ten others—an impressive sight, with their copes of gold cloth and their mitres and crosses.
I was led to St. Edward's Chair, and as I sat there Gardiner declared, “Here present is Mary, rightful and undoubted inheritrix by the laws of God and man to the crown and royal dignity of the realms of England, France and Ireland. Will you serve at this time and give your wills and assent to the same consecration, unction and coronation?”
How thrilling it was to hear their response. “Yes! Yes! Yes! God save Queen Mary!”
Then I was led to the high chair by the altar, where I took my coronation oath.
The ceremony of the anointing was carried out, and afterward I was robed in purple velvet trimmed with ermine; the sword was placed in my hands, and the Duke of Norfolk brought the three crowns—St. Edward's, the imperial crown and the one made for me. Each in turn was set on my head while the trumpets sounded.
It was a wonderful moment when I sat with the imperial crown on my head, the sceptre in my right hand and the orb in my left, and received the homage of the nobles of the realm, in which each promised to be my liege man for life…to live and to die with me against all others.
Through the chamber the cry rang out: “God save Queen Mary!”
I was indeed their Queen.
IT WAS FOUR DAYS AFTER MY CORONATION WHEN I OPENED my first Parliament. It was a splendid occasion. People lined the streets to see me ride by, and everyone who could be there was present.
I realize now that I was guileless. I did not know how to dissimulate. How unlike Elizabeth I was! Innocently, I expected everyone to be as I was. It took me a little time to learn that they were not.
The people had chosen me for their Queen. I thought that meant that they were ready to turn back to the Catholic Church and that it would be just as it was before my father broke with Rome.
When it was learned that I intended to return to papal authority, there was dismay in all quarters…even where I had least expected it.
I can see now that few people cared as strongly about religion as I did. There were many who were ready enough to go back to the way it had been during the last years of my father's reign. The religion itself had not changed then. All that had happened was that the monarch was the head of the Church instead of the Pope.
There was another point. Almost every nobleman in the land had profited from the dissolution of the monasteries and acquired Church land, and they would be in no mood to give that up.
All the ambassadors were a little shocked—even Renard, who, I had thought, would be entirely with me.
“You are moving too fast,” he said.
I could not believe that I had heard aright.
“But this is what I have always intended,” I protested.
“The people know it. It is why they have made me their Queen.”
“There will be trouble throughout the country, and Your Majesty is not secure enough to withstand trouble.”
“What do you mean? Did they not proclaim me? Have you not heard how they shout for me in the streets?”
“They shouted for you because they see you as the true heir to the throne, and the people did not like the succession to be meddled with. But have a care. There are many Protestants in this country. They might accept a return to the Catholic Faith, but to take the Church back to Rome at one stroke…it would be too much… too soon.”
“But it is my mission…my purpose.”
“I know … and a worthy one. But go slowly… feel your way. Leave things as they are at the moment.”
“But I will have Mass heard in the churches.”
“That…yes. But do not press for a return to Rome… not yet.”
He was not the only one to warn me. De Noailles, the French ambassador, called. I did not trust him. He was a very wily man. I had known for some time that he was more of a spy than an ambassador. Most of them were, of course, but de Noailles more than any. I knew he hated the thought of my closeness to Spain. Simon Renard, as my cousin's emissary, was a confidant as well as an ambassador. De Noailles knew this, and I believe he wanted to drive a wedge between us, for France and Spain were perennial enemies. If the French had heard of a possible match between myself and Philip of Spain, they would do everything they could to prevent it.
But this time he was in agreement with Simon Renard. France, like Spain, wished to see England back under the papal authority; but they could foresee revolt in England if it came too suddenly. They had just seen Jane Grey made Queen—albeit for only nine days—and they realized how dangerous the situation was and how uncertain my grip on the crown. There was my half-sister Elizabeth waiting to seize her chance.
I was warned not to be too fervent a papist.
Gardiner was one of the few who supported me, but I remembered that he had made no protest when my father had declared himself Head of the Church; and now that there was a new sovereign who believed that the country should return to Rome, he was in agreement with that. Protestants, who must be deploring his release from the Tower, called him Turncoat and Doctor Doubleface.
At the opening of Parliament Gardiner was the one who announced that it was my intention to return to Rome. That was all, but the views of so many which I received afterward influenced me, and I understood that I must not act too quickly; and nothing more was done about the matter at that time.
In the same Parliament I wanted it known that the harsh laws which my father had set up were to be relaxed. A great many people had suffered under my father's rule; I wanted mine to be more merciful.
I found a certain relief in writing to Reginald because I was sure that, from the Continent, he would be watching events in England with great concern.
“I had thought it would be simple,” I wrote to him. “I thought it could be changed at once. But I have been warned. The Emperor's ambassador has warned me. I must not be too hasty. The people are not yet prepared. But I trust you do not think me dilatory. Please do not think for a moment I am failing in my purpose. But I dare not yet show the people my intent.”
He would understand, I felt sure.
How I wished he were younger—and with me. I felt uneasy about the proposed match with Philip. I wondered a great deal about him. I had heard that he lacked the astuteness of his father. Well, that was to be expected as the Emperor Charles was known as the wisest ruler of the age.
Philip, I was told, was deeply religious. On the other hand, he had led rather a wild life, some said. I had heard that he was sensuous and fond of women. That was what alarmed me. He had been married before, to Isabella of Portugal, who had died three years later giving birth to a son, Don Carlos, who must be about six years old. If Philip was looking for passionate excitement in a marriage, I was not the wife for him to choose. But he was the son of the Emperor and I was the Queen of England, so the match was highly suitable on that score. But was it? The people would not wish me to marry a foreigner. They would have liked me to take Edward Courtenay. Moreover, I could not leave my country to go to Spain, and Philip could not leave his and come here. We should see each other rarely, it seemed to me. I began to think that this marriage with Spain would go the way of all the others.
But Reginald I had known and loved in my childhood. Did it matter that he was older than I? Did it matter that we should be unlikely to have children?
What I looked for was loving companionship, someone to be beside me, to care for me, to cherish me.
Simon Renard was the nearest I had to that, but in my heart I knew that his loyalties lay not with me but with his master, as a good ambassador's should. I tried to assure myself that the Emperor's interests were mine and that we stood together…as we always had.
Now that the Mass was being said in churches, there were bound to be protests. There were rumors of restlessness in several of the counties. From Kent, Leicestershire and Norfolk there were complaints.
My sister Elizabeth was a source of anxiety. She would not attend Mass, and Renard believed that those who wished to keep the Protestant way of worship were looking to her as a figurehead.
“She is very dangerous,” he said.
The Council sent a message to her telling her that she must conform. She did not appear at the ceremony at which the title of Earl was bestowed on Edward Courtenay, using the often employed excuse of sickness.
Renard came to me in some consternation.
“What is this sister of yours planning? She is trying to please the Protestants. While she behaves as she does she is fomenting danger. People will look to her—and believe me, there are many. She should be sent to the Tower.”
“How could I send my own sister to the Tower?”
“Merely by giving the order. I doubt not that, if there was an investigation, something could be proved against her.”
“De Noailles is showing friendship toward her.”
“She will get no good from him. His one aim is to get Mary of Scotland on the throne.”
“Mary of Scotland! How could he believe that possible?”
Renard looked at me with a hint of pity for my shortsightedness.
“Mary of Scotland is the daughter-in-law of the King of France. De Noailles is his servant. The King sees England coming to France with Mary Queen and young François King. But depend upon it, de Noailles will use Elizabeth to try to bring this about.”
“Is there no one to be trusted?”
Renard shook his head. “No one but my master, who is your friend and always will be. When you are married to Philip, you will have an even stronger hold on his affections, and you will have a man beside you. But in the meantime we have to deal with Elizabeth. We have to stop these Protestants looking to her as their new Queen.”
“It is treason.”
“Your Majesty speaks truth. So … let us begin to flout these treasonable schemes by turning our attention to your sister.”
“I cannot imprison her.”
“Not until she is implicated. But let us be watchful and begin by preventing her setting up this image to staunch Protestants. She must attend the Mass.”
“I will have her told that she must obey.”
“That will be the first step,” agreed Renard.
Before I could send the order to her, a messenger came from her with a letter begging me to grant her an interview.
I did this.
As soon as she approached me, she fell on her knees.
I said, “You may rise and tell me what it is you have to say to me. I see that you have recovered from the sickness which prevented your attending Courtenay's ceremony. You appear to be in rude health.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I have recovered. May I say I hope Your Majesty is in good health.”
There was a look of concern on her face which told me I looked ill. She did not say I did, for she knew that would annoy me, but she implied it with a glance of compassion which made me immediately aware of the contrast between us—she so young, so vital, so full of good health, and myself ageing, pale, several inches shorter than she was, so that when we stood, she looked down on me.
I told her I was well. I repeated, “What is it you wish to say to me?”
“Your Majesty, I am deeply grieved.”
“Why is that?”
“I fear Your Majesty has lost her love for me. This makes me sad indeed. You have ever been a good sister to me, and I am desolate to think I may have done something to offend you. I know of nothing…except this matter of religion.”
I said, “You have been told many times to attend Mass, and you stubbornly refuse to do so.”
“Your Majesty, I have not had your advantage. I was brought up in the Reformed Faith, and I have heard no other.”
“There is no excuse. There are many who would instruct you.”
“Then Your Majesty has relieved me greatly. I must have instruction. Perhaps some learned man could be appointed for me. I will willingly learn. Your Majesty will understand that, having been instructed in one form of religion, it stays with one, and it is hard to change.”
I never knew whether to believe her or not. But for Renard's warning, I would have embraced her and told her that she should have tuition at once and we should be good sisters again. But I did hesitate. I knew Renard was right when he said she was wily and she must be watched. But seeing her before me, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, the look of humility in her face, the obvious eagerness to be taken back into my affections, I almost believed her.
I said, “You will attend Mass on the 8th of September. It is the day the Church of Rome celebrates the nativity of the Virgin.”
She looked a little taken aback. I tried to read her thoughts. She could not refuse. She knew that there were spies about her, all waiting for her to make some slip. Renard would be happy to see her in the Tower, considering her safer there. De Noailles would want her out of the way too. He wanted us both out of the way, to make the road clear for Mary of Scotland. On the other hand, Elizabeth was next in succession, and she only had to wait for my death.
The thought made me shiver. But I could not believe this fresh-faced young girl would be foolish enough to become involved in a plot which, if it did not succeed, could cost her the crown and possibly her head.
I kissed her. “We are sisters,” I said. “Let us be friends.”
She smiled radiantly, and I warmed to her. I knew she had been deeply hurt because, when I had been acclaimed legitimate, that could only mean that she was not. When we had both been called bastards, there had been a bond between us. As Queen I had to be proclaimed legitimate, and deeply I had desired this… not only for myself but for the sake of my mother. But I did feel for Elizabeth. It was bad enough to be the daughter of Anne Boleyn who, many believed, had been a witch.
It pleased me to be lenient with her. I would help her. It might well be that all she needed was instruction.
But I was adamant that she must attend Mass on the occasion I had mentioned.
She did appear. She came, looking pale and wan.
How did she manage it? I asked myself. I only half-believed in her illnesses. She recovered a little too quickly for them to be genuine.
She was surrounded by her ladies. They almost carried her into the chapel. When they arrived, she asked them to rub her stomach in the hope of bringing her some relief.
It was a good piece of acting—if acting it was. People would say, “Poor Princess! She was forced to attend Mass, but it was easy to see how reluctant she was. It made her quite ill.”
And it seemed to me that she had scored again.
RENARD WAS INCENSED by the manner in which Elizabeth had behaved. Far from upsetting the Protestants with her little bit of playacting, she had strengthened her position.
“I shall never be happy while she remains free,” he grumbled.
He thought I was a fool. I had been taken in by my sister's wiles. I kept Jane Grey alive in the Tower. Again and again he tried to impress on me that these two women represented rallying-points. The country could break into revolt at any time. Did I not see that Elizabeth and Jane, as Protestants, could be at the very center of plots against me?
I replied that the people were with me. They had chosen me.
“They could choose Elizabeth,” he said.
I shook my head and he lifted his shoulders and turned away. He said, “She must be watched. If there is the least indication that she is plotting against you, it must be the Tower for her… and most likely her head.”
He came to me a few days later with the news that de Noailles was visiting Elizabeth secretly. It could only be that they were plotting to destroy me.
“Why should de Noailles be working for Elizabeth?”
“He is not,” replied Renard. “Depend upon it, once he had dispatched Your Majesty, Elizabeth would go the same way. She is too naàve … too eager for power to see that. His only interest is to put Mary Stuart on the throne.”
“Must there always be these plots against me?”
“Until we are sure that you are safe on the throne, there will be.”
“And when will that be?”
He lifted his shoulders. “Your Majesty must see that we take every precaution and that while Madam Elizabeth is here, charming the people and being, as she thinks, so clever, we must be watchful. She should be sent to the Tower at once.”
“But nothing has been proved against her.”
“Then we must find out if there is anything to prove.”
I summoned two of my ministers—Arundel and Paget—and told them that the Princess had been behaving in a suspicious manner with the French ambassador.
“Go to her,” I said. “Discover if there is any truth in these rumors.” They clearly did not like the task. I noticed that people were becoming more and more careful how they treated Elizabeth. If she could survive, if she did not commit some treasonable act and if nothing could be proved against her, she had a very good chance of coming to the throne. I knew that was what she wanted more than anything. She always implied when I was in her presence that my health was poor and I looked sickly. Though perhaps I imagined that, and it was only myself who compared her healthy looks with my delicate ones. The people had shown that they did not like the succession interfered with. So … Paget and Arundel would remember that the young woman they were questioning for treason could be their Queen tomorrow. Naturally they were loth to go to her.
But they did and they came back and reassured me. They had proved without a doubt that de Noailles had made no indiscreet calls on her. She had given ample proof of her loyalty.
I was relieved. It would have worried me considerably to have to send my sister to the Tower.
She asked for an audience again, which I granted, and when she came to me she fell onto her knees.
