Текст книги "Queen of This Realm"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
Соавторы: Jean Plaidy
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I went down and received him in the great hall.
When he saw me he fell onto his knees. He took my hand and kissed it and lifted his eyes to my face.
“Welcome to Hatfield, Lord Robert,” I said.
“My gracious lady,” he replied. “It is indeed good of you to see me.”
“There is no need to remain on your knees,” I told him.
He rose and then I saw how tall he was, while he looked at me as though in wonder and I felt a glow of pleasure, for his gaze was not only of respect for my rank but deep admiration for my person.
“Why have you come, Lord Robert?” I said to hide a certain confusion. “Is it for the same reason that many come to Hatfield now?”
“I have just returned from battle.”
“Yes. I believe you did good service for your country. And now you are here…as many others are.”
“I came to bring you gold,” he said. “I have sold some of my estates so that I might have the money. I trust you will not need it, but if there should be trouble it would be well for you to be prepared.”
“You bring me money, Lord Robert!”
“I have it here. My man will bring it to you. Your Grace, if it should be necessary to fight for what is yours by right, here is one who will stand beside you and cares so much for your cause that he has sold certain of his estates to raise money for any need or emergency which may arise.”
“You are indeed a friend,” I said, “and I thank you.”
“There was a time when you and I were both prisoners in the Tower,” he said, his eyes never leaving my face. “There was a young boy…”
“Little Martin,” I replied. “He brought me your messages of cheer until they stopped him.”
“Your Grace remembers! It is more than I dared hope. I never forgot, and I shall be with you should you need my help.”
“Thank you, Lord Robert. I accept your offer and your friendship.”
“I shall be watchful of Your Grace. There is much coming and going on the road to Hatfield. The Queen is very sick. If anything should go wrong, Hatfield could become a prison.”
“If aught goes wrong? What mean you by that?”
“None knows more than Your Grace what a dangerous world we live in.”
“Lord Robert, are you telling me there are plots against me?”
“I know of none. None would confide in me. I have always been Your Grace's most ardent supporter.”
“Except,” I said, a little sharply, “when you were among those who tried to put Lady Jane Grey on the throne.”
“That was my father, and as he was my father I was forced to stand with him. It was no disloyalty to Your Grace. I am yours to command. My lands and goods are at your disposal. This I have brought with me is but a token. Whatever need you should have of me, I am yours … these arms, this heart… this man.”
I was so touched I held out my hand, which he took and kissed fervently. He was a little too bold, perhaps, a little too intense, but I was honest enough to admit that I liked his fervor.
I said: “Thank you, Lord Robert. You may go now. I shall not forget this magnanimous offer. I may hold you to it, you know.”
“I shall be here whenever you need me.”
He bowed low and departed.
I went to my room. I did not want to speak to anyone for a while. I just wanted to think of him. I would remember every word he had said, every inflection of his voice, every expression which had touched his handsome face, the ardor in his eyes.
I should see him again soon and perhaps then I should be Queen.
MY SISTER KNEW that she was dying. I heard that she had received a letter from Philip in which he urged her to name me her heir. I did not see that that was important. I was her heir on the terms of my father's will. It was not for Mary to name me, or anyone else. But it did show that Philip realized I must follow her. He must have been extremely nervous about French aspirations through Mary Stuart and I still believed that in his heart he was hoping to marry me. I was certain that he was a little enamored of my person and because of his nature he would look forward to marriage with one who was young and attractive; moreover, in his arrogant way he would think he was quite capable of bending me to his will. How mistaken he was!
I was a little surprised when two members of Mary's Council arrived. I thought they might well have come to announce her death and I was wondering whether I should believe them. I had to watch for traps. I had said that I would not accept that my sister was dead until I held her gold and ebony ring in my hands, and I meant that.
But the councilors had not come to kneel to me as their Queen. They bowed with due deference and one of them said: “The Queen has sent us to Your Grace to tell you that it is her intention to bequeath the royal crown to you. In return for this favor there are three conditions with which you must comply. The first is that you will not change the Privy Council; the second that you will make no alteration in religion; and thirdly that you will discharge the Queen's debts and satisfy her creditors.”
I felt anger rising within me, but I said calmly enough that I could satisfy her on the last of these matters with the utmost ease as she was asking nothing more than what was just. “As to the others,” I went on, “there is no reason why I should thank the Queen for her intention to give me the crown for she has neither the power to bestow it upon me nor can I be deprived of it. It is my hereditary right. I respectfully point out that I should be allowed to choose my own councilors as she chose hers.”
I could see they were really taken aback and I really believe they thought I should be overcome with gratitude because the Queen was giving her consent to what was mine by right. But now I had come to the dangerous clause: religion. It was always religion which caused the greatest trouble. The Queen was not yet dead and I still had to walk warily. I paused to consider my reply. Then I said: “As to religion, I promise this much, that I will not change it providing only that it can be proved by the word of God which shall be the only foundation and rule of my religion.”
They looked bemused, as well they might. Experience had taught me that it is always wise to be obtuse when discussing religion, and if one could bring in God as one's advocate so much the better.
The Councilors went away. I fancied they were gravely considering my words and I felt that I was getting very near to the crown.
THE NEXT CALLER was the Count de Feria, the Ambassador from Philip himself. He was extremely affable, and I was inclined to be a little aloof, for I fancied I did not have to be so careful in manner toward him as I had been in the past. He and his master would immediately lose their importance when my sister was no longer there to sustain it and it pleased me to let these arrogant Spaniards know that England was slipping out of their clutches.
He began by conveying Philip's friendly feelings toward me.
“He has ever been kindly disposed toward Your Grace,” he said. “You will remember that it was through his persuasion that you came to Court.”
“I remember it well,” I replied.
“Moreover, it was he who advised the Queen to make you her heir and you must feel gratitude toward him for this.”
There was nothing which annoyed me more than to be told that my sister had had to be persuaded to give me that to which I had a right, and I felt my anger flaring up. I said coldly: “This was no matter of persuasion. I am the heir to the throne by right of birth. As my father's daughter, I am so named in his will. Therefore no matter what your master said to my sister, my right to the throne is my own, and I believe the people of England will see right done.”
“I am sure you will be grateful for the continued friendship of my master.”
“Friendship is always to be preferred to enmity and I shall remain friendly with all those who mean well to my country.”
“Through his marriage my master became King of this country.”
“He was the Queen's consort it is true, although he spent very little time with her.”
“He had so many duties in Spain…”
“And now he will be even more engrossed in his duties,” I said, referring to the death of the Emperor Charles which had occurred the previous month.
De Feria could not deny that. I was smiling, inwardly wondering what he would report to his master.
I went on: “As you know the King, your master, urged me more than once to marry Philibert of Savoy. Ah, if I had, where should I be now? Not here, most certainly. I should have been ill advised to have listened to him.”
“My master believed at the time that it would have been an excellent match for you. He was eager for your good.”
That was too much and I need not be subservient now.
I said sharply: “Your master has the good of his own country ever at heart, and that is all that can be expected of a ruler. My sister lost favor with her people when she married a foreigner and brought him to these shores.”
De Feria was nonplussed. I wondered if he had been told to sound me out about marriage with Philip. If he had, he evidently decided that this was not the moment to raise the matter. Nor was it, with Philip's poor wife, my sister, not yet dead, certain though it was that her end was imminent.
He went away somewhat crestfallen and I felt I had handled the situation very well.
THE TENSION WAS MOUNTING. I wanted to be alone to think. Mary was dying. It could not be many days now. I went into the gardens and as I was there I heard the sound of horses' hoofs. A party of riders were close. I stood still, my heart beating fast. Then I saw them.
They were members of the Council and they could only be here on one mission.
They dismounted and came toward me. They fell to their knees.
“God save Queen Elizabeth!” they cried, and they took my hand and, in turn, kissed it and swore to serve me.
I listened to them and was exultant. This was the greatest moment of my life.
I was overcome with joy but perhaps because of the vicissitudes through which I had passed I felt strangely humble.
Often during my most dangerous moments I had made Kat read Psalm 118 with me and I knew it by heart.
“It is better to trust in the Lord than to put confidence in princes.
“Thou hast thrust sore at me that I might fall; but the Lord helped me.”
Often I had repeated those words and they came once more into my mind and I cried aloud: “This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes.”
EVERYONE WAS NOW converging on Hatfield, all eager to proclaim me Queen.
Nicholas Throckmorton arrived with the gold and ebony ring, and he was a little put out because the Council had reached me first. I thanked him for his good service, which I promised I should not forget.
There was one other who came riding at full speed on a magnificent white horse.
I was delighted to see him and when he knelt down, kissed my hand and cried: “God save the Queen!” I almost wept with an emotion which I had to conceal.
“I would I had been the first to reach you,” he said. “As soon as I heard the news, for which I was earnestly waiting, I took my fastest horse. I wished to be the first to call you Queen and offer my life in your service.”
“I forget not that you came earlier,” I said. “Rest assured, Lord Robert, that you will not be forgotten.”
“My lady…so young…so fair… and a crown to carry!”
“Do not fear for me,” I answered. “I have long been prepared.”
“Fortune is smiling on England this day,” he said.
“Perhaps too it will smile on Robert Dudley,” I said. “I offer you the post of my Master of Horse. What say you?”
He was on his knees again. His eyes sparkled with pleasure and all the time they watched me. I was young…so was he. We were of an age.
“Master of the Queen's Horse,” he said slowly. “There is nothing I could have wished for more… because it will bring me close to Your Majesty. I shall be beside you for as long as you need me.”
Oh, glorious day! Dull November perhaps, but for me no day could have been brighter.
Truly it was marvelous in our eyes. At last I had my crown. I had the homage of my subjects, the love of my people—and the passionate admiration of Robert Dudley.
ALTHOUGH THIS WAS A TIME OF GREAT TRIUMPH FOR ME, I must not forget that it had come about through my sister's death and I thought it would be proper to show a little sorrow for her. I did not have to feign this entirely. I had often thought of Mary and the tragic failure of her life. I had looked on it as an outstanding example of how not to act. The people did not mourn her. How could they when they could smell the smoke from Smithfield? But that was in the past. This was the time for rejoicing. Young Elizabeth had taken the place of aging Mary, and the ties with Spain, that hated enemy, were broken. They looked forward to golden days and they must not be disappointed.
I had decided that I should remain a few days at Hatfield House out of respect for my sister. It was two days after her death before I was formally proclaimed Queen at the gates.
The next day I held my first Privy Council. Hatfield House had become a Court. People were gathering there all hoping for some place in my service. But I already knew whom I should employ. The trials through which I had passed had given me a good idea of whom I could trust and who had the ability to serve me as would be necessary. Therefore I was delighted to welcome William Cecil to Hatfield for I had never forgotten his help and was well aware of his astuteness. I had made up my mind that when I formed a government, he should be part of it.
At that first Council meeting I got some inkling of the state of the country, and it was decidedly depressing. We were sadly weakened; our exchequer pitiably lacking; food was dear; we were at war with France and Scotland, and the French had recaptured Calais so that we no longer had a foothold in France. But there was one thing I had always known and that was that wars brought no good to either side. Perhaps because I was a woman I had no desire to indulge in them. I had no glorious dreams of riding into battle; my victories should be those of diplomacy. I remember William Cecil's once saying that a country gains more in a year of peace than by ten years of war. I agreed with that sentiment, and I made up my mind that my country should not go to war unless it was absolutely necessary to do so.
The more I thought of it the more I knew that Cecil was the man for the most influential post in the government, and at the first meeting of the Council I announced that I had chosen him for my chief Secretary of State. I did keep certain members of Mary's Council in office. The Earl of Arundel and Lord William Howard were two of them, and another was William Paulet, Marquess of Winchester, whom I made Lord Treasurer. Nicholas Bacon was Lord Keeper of the Great Seal, and Sir Francis Knollys, who was a second cousin by marriage, became Vice Chamberlain. He was a firm Protestant and had found it necessary to leave the country during Mary's reign, but I knew he was a good honest man, and I liked to favor my mother's relations, provided they had the ability.
I was satisfied that I had built up a strong government, and it suddenly occurred to me that none of the members I had chosen was young. Cecil, oddly enough, was the youngest, and he was thirty-eight. I was glad of this for I was a great believer in experience—a valuable asset which few people have the wit to appreciate. But being aware for so long that sooner or later I could become Queen, I had many times planned which men I would choose to serve me. It was exhilarating to be in the position to make those plans reality.
We were no longer going to be ruled by priests. I had a company of able and trustworthy men and I intended to turn my country from debt and bankruptcy into a great state when every man and woman in it should be proud to be English.
I had to give Kat a post to keep her close to me so I made her my first Lady of the Bedchamber and her delight in her new dignity greatly amused me.
“It will make no difference to me, queen or not,” she told me. “You'll still be my Elizabeth and I shall say what I please.”
“You will have to be careful, Kat,” I warned her. “Only fools anger princes.”
“Well, you have always said I was a fool, mistress.”
I boxed her ears playfully. I made her husband Keeper of the Jewels and my dear Parry was Treasurer of the Household. I was not one to forget my old friends.
Even aged Blanche Parry, whose learning I had always valued and who had taught me to speak the Welsh language, was not forgotten. Indeed why should she be? She was very clever and erudite and quite worthy to hold the post of Keeper of the Royal Books at Windsor Castle, an honor which delighted her.
There was another side to my glorious position and that was one—such was my nature—which I awaited with eager anticipation: my ride through my capital city, my acclamation by the people, and my coronation which must take place as soon as possible for there is a belief among the people that a monarch is not a true one until she—or he—has been crowned.
An added delight to these preparations was that they would be supervised by my Master of Horse, and that gave me an excuse to have many consultations with the man in whose company I took such delight.
Robert Dudley was for me the ideal companion. He showed me in a hundred ways that he adored me… and not just as a queen. He had graceful manners so that while he was bold he always remembered who I was. For me it was the perfect relationship. I had always been susceptible to admiration; I greatly enjoyed compliments even when the wiser side of my nature told me they were not true; and in spite of the fact that the thought of marriage was repulsive to me, courtship I found exhilarating. And this was the relationship which was springing up between Robert Dudley and me. He admired me; his looks, his gestures, his words, implied that he was in love with me. He was particularly eligible because he was already married and for that reason I could dally with him to my heart's content.
A week after Mary's death I came to London. What a glorious day it was when I rode through my capital city, and how the people rejoiced! I was deeply moved by their trust in me. They looked to me to bring happiness and prosperity back to the country and I vowed I would do so. This was the end of the Smithfield fires. This was the beginning of the great era which I vowed would be known forever as Elizabethan. I swore to myself that I would never betray them. I loved these people with their honest faces and their shining belief in me. I would show them my love for them. I felt as Joan of Arc must have felt riding into Orleans. She had been sure she had God's blessing—and so was I.
How they cheered me! They came to me with nosegays—some very humble. I took them all and kissed them and that made them cheer more wildly. I gave them to one of my women to hold for me while I tenderly thanked the givers. My people must never think me too proud to speak to them whenever they wished to speak to me. I knew that the approval of these people was necessary to keep me in my place, and that was something I should never forget.
And riding beside me was that incomparable man. How he sat his horse! There was no man in England who could manage a horse as he could. He was rightly Master of Horse. Moreover his office meant that he was often beside me, which was what I wanted as much as he did.
As we came into Highgate we were met by a procession of Bishops; they dismounted and knelt in the road to kiss my hand and offer me allegiance. Bishop Bonner was among them—but when he would have taken my hand and kissed it, I turned away and stared over his head. The watchers noticed and a cheer went up, for he was one of the most hated men in the country, who had been responsible for sending many Protestants to the stake. I wanted the people to know that I spurned the friendship of such a man.
I knew that I looked splendid as I rode through the City. I was wearing a riding dress of rich purple velvet which was very becoming and I, being especially upright, looked well on a horse. Robert Dudley rode beside me and every now and then our eyes would meet and I was sure mine reflected the exultation in his.
London Wall had been hung with tapestry. The guns of the Tower boomed out and the real ceremonies began. Schoolchildren stopped our progress to recite verses praising me; choirs of children sang in similar vein. I stopped and spoke to them thanking them for their welcome. I wanted to impress on these people that although I was their Queen I was also their friend, and I did not hold myself so high that any should feel they could not approach me. I knew by the cheers and the murmurs of approval that I was taking the right course. It was one I intended to cling to as long as I was Queen.
It was a dramatic moment when I entered the Tower. We paused and there was a deep silence all about us. Many must be thinking, as I was, of that dismal Palm Sunday when I had been brought to this place through the Traitor's Gate. Then I came in great dejection; now I came in triumph.
I lifted my hand and my voice rang out over that silence. “Some,” I said, “have fallen from being princes of this land to be prisoners in this place; I am raised from being prisoner in this place to be prince of this land. That dejection was a work of God's justice; this advancement is a work of His mercy; as they were to yield patience for the one, so must I bear myself to God thankful, and to men merciful, for the other.”
After I had spoken there was a silence of a few seconds and then the cheers rang out.
Deeply moved I went into the Tower.
I asked to be taken to the Bell Tower and to that room which I had once occupied when I was a prisoner in this place.
Robert was beside me as I stood in that room and the past came back to me, and I felt again that despair, when I had listened with apprehension to the sound of a key in the lock and wondered if I was to be led out to the axe.
I was so overcome that I sank to my knees and once more thanked God for His deliverance.
“I was as Daniel in the lions' den,” I cried. “And the Lord delivered me.” Robert knelt with me, and when he helped me to my feet he took my hand and kissed it.
“Come,” I said, “I would walk on the lead as I used to.”
He came with me. In places we had to walk in single file from the Bell to the door into the Beauchamp Tower.
“There were you, Lord Robert,” I cried, “and I used to think of you when I walked along this narrow path and wonder what you were doing in your prison.”
“I thought of you,” he answered. “God knows, I thought of little else.”
I believed him… because I wanted to.
We made our way back and stood for a few moments in my old prison in the Bell Tower and we looked steadily at each other.
“Everything that has happened has led to this,” said Robert.
His eyes were wild with dreams and I thought: If he were a free man I might be tempted to marry him.
But he was not a free man and if he had been at the time of his brother Guildford's marriage, he would not be here now. He was older than Guildford. He would have been the one to marry Jane Grey. But fortune had smiled on him. He had to be thankful for his marriage, and in my more thoughtful moments, so was I.
During the seven days I resided at the Tower, there were many meetings of the Council. I had already shown my disapproval of the religious persecutions in my sister's reign by refusing my hand to Bonner. I longed to reassure my people. What I wanted was to be proclaimed Head of the Church as my father had been and thus diminish the power of the Church of Rome. But I saw at once that I must tread warily in this matter. There could not be a complete turnabout—particularly as when I had been in fear of my life I had outwardly followed the rules of the Catholic Church.
But this brought home to me the need for a quick coronation, because only when I had been appointed and acclaimed Queen could I feel I had a firm grip on the crown.
The day must be right. There must be no evil omens.
I had naturally talked over the matter with Kat and she said we should consult Dr Dee.
Dr John Dee was a mathematician and astrologer whose powers of seeing into the future were highly respected. Kat had often talked of him and she had been in correspondence with him when we had been at Woodstock. He was a Protestant and I believed one of my supporters, which meant, Kat pointed out, that I was going to have a long and prosperous reign for Dr Dee, who could see into the future, would not have been so eager to support me if this were not the case.
I told Kat she was too gullible but I did feel that luck played a great part in survival. At least it had in mine, and I wanted to be sure that I did not choose an unlucky day for the Coronation.
Kat, as a firm believer in fate, was an enthusiastic admirer of Dr Dee, and I did not need much persuasion to share her enthusiasm. It is all very well for those who have nothing to lose to laugh at soothsayers, but for a young woman in my position no possibility must be rejected. Therefore I agreed to see Dr Dee.
He was in his early thirties, a startling-looking man with rather wild eyes which seemed to be looking at something which others could not see, and this inspired belief in him. He had passed through dangerous times, having come within hours of losing his life. He had been suspected of uttering words which could be said to be against Queen Mary, and accused of conspiring to kill her either through magic or poison.
All the man had said was that her health was failing, and any who saw her must have known that. He had been in the Tower about the same time as I had and had shared a cell with a certain Barthlet Green who was one of those who had been burned at the stake for his religious opinions. The ever zealous Bonner therefore suspected Dr Dee of heresy, but the doctor was too clever for his questioners, and he came out of his ordeal a free man.
The fact that he had been imprisoned on suspicion of attempting to murder Mary meant that he was certain to be one of my supporters. I was all eagerness to consult him and, when the Earl of Pembroke presented him to me and Lord Robert recommended him, I was won over completely. He should have a place in my household, I said. It would be an excellent idea to have an astrologer on hand to advise on important occasions.
My Master of Horse would naturally be in charge of all ceremonies and that meant the Coronation; so Robert consulted with Dr Dee who, after spending some time in meditation, came up with the date of Sunday the fifteenth of January as the day best suited to this auspicious occasion.
“January the fifteenth let it be,” I said; and preparations were set in motion.
ALL WAS GOING WELL, but I had a reminder that I must continue to act with caution. To do what I wanted to do, to make drastic changes, could bring me to trouble. The Catholic priesthood was strong and they had wielded great power over Mary, with Philip of Spain behind them assuring them of success in foisting their religion on the people. They had been about to set up the Inquisition in the country and had indeed returned England in many ways to Rome.
I was going to change that. No foreign power would rule my country; but caution was needed. They were too strong, these priests. They were sure of themselves and I had to show them who was their mistress—but calmly, gradually.
This was brought home to me at my sister's funeral when the sermon was preached by Dr White, Bishop of Winchester. It was fortunate that he spoke in Latin, which so few people could understand. But I understood perfectly, and I did not like what I heard.
He broke into eulogies of the late Queen. He reminded the people that she had had the pious humility to renounce the Crown's supremacy over the Church and bring it back to the domination of Rome where it belonged. St Paul, he said, had forbidden women to speak in church, and it was not fitting for the Church to have a dumb head.
I was growing more and more incensed every moment. How dared he talk thus, particularly when I was urging the Council to proclaim me Head of the Church! How dared he speak disparagingly of my sex when I intended to show the people that they would prosper under a woman as never before!
He then enlarged upon Mary's sufferings; how patiently she had borne her afflictions; how blessed was England to have been given even briefly the devotion of such a good religious woman.
I was watching the congregation. Were they too thinking of great men who had burned at the stake—as I was? Cranmer, Ridley and the rest. Surely they must.
My fury reached its height when he began to speak of me.
Queen Mary's sister was now on the throne. She was a lady of great worth also and they must needs obey her. Then he committed the final insult by referring to me as a “live dog” and Mary “a dead lion”; and implying that they must needs do with what they had, as I was alive and Mary dead.
This was too much. If the people understood what he was saying, harm could be done to me. Fortunately there were few as well versed in the Latin tongue as I, and although the congregation knew he was praising Mary they did not realize that he was denigrating me.
I must curb my anger, but such a man must not be free to speak again as he did. He had flung down the gauntlet. Very well.
As he left the pulpit, I rose and cried to my guards: “Arrest that man.”
They hastened to do my bidding and the Bishop of Winchester and I faced each other. I thought he looked pleased and I guessed he was one of those men who court martyrdom. They were the dangerous ones—religious fanatics, sure of their place in Heaven and certain that those who did not agree entirely with them were destined for Hell—they were the men to be wary of.
“Your Majesty,” he said as the guards seized him, “I must warn you that if you attempt to turn from Rome you will be excommunicated.”
I retorted: “Take him to the Tower.”
And they did so.
When I returned to the privacy of my apartments, I sent for Cecil. He had heard of the arrest of Dr White and knew that it was this matter which I wanted to discuss with him.
