Текст книги "Queen of This Realm"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
Соавторы: Jean Plaidy
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I wondered how she reasoned as she waited there with the few friends left to her, to gaze no doubt across the Solway Firth to England and out to France.
Her family were now displeased with her; she knew that the Queen Mother of France was her enemy. Should she go to France? There was another choice. England! Foolish woman, did she think I would forget that she had emblazoned the arms of England on her shield? Did she think I would ever forget that she had called herself Queen of England?
She knew nothing of the world, nothing of people. Certainly she did not understand such as I was. She had listened too long to the poets, and she believed that her beauty had given her a right to act in a manner which would not be acceptable from others. She had never learned the art of survival as I had.
I was in a state of great excitement when I received word from the Earl of Northumberland that Mary had arrived in England. She had landed at the little village of Workington where Sir Henry Curwen had given her shelter at Workington Hall until the Earl decided that she would be more comfortable at Cockermouth in the home of a certain Henry Fletcher, a rich merchant of the district. Northumberland was not in residence in his own castle. He thought Mary could stay with the Fletchers until he received instructions from me as to what should be done with her.
There was a letter from Mary for me in which she referred to me as her dear sister and begged for my help.
“I entreat you to send for me as soon as possible,” she wrote, “for I am in a pitiable condition, not only for a queen but for a gentlewoman, having nothing in the world but what I had on my person when I escaped…”
That must have been very distressing for the fastidious lady who had enchanted everyone with her exquisite gowns.
“…I hope to be able to declare my misfortunes to you if it pleases you to have compassion and permit me to come to you…”
Oh, I thought, it is compassion you want now! Very different from a crown.
“…I will pray to God to give you a long and happy life and to myself patience and that consolation I await from you.
“Your faithful and affectionate good sister and cousin and escaped prisoner, Mary.”
I showed the letter to Cecil. He was noncommittal but as excited as I was.
I said: “The Ladies Grey are under restraint; the Countess of Lennox is in the Tower; and now Mary of Scotland is in England.”
“God has delivered her into Your Majesty's hands,” said Cecil slowly.
“Nay,” I replied, “not God, but Mary herself. What now?”
“She is no longer the prisoner of the Scots.”
“No,” I said slowly. “She is mine.”
He nodded slowly. Then he said: “She begs to see you.”
I shook my head. “I shall not see her… yet. I will let it be known that while she is treated with the honor due to a queen, I cannot receive her until she is cleared of murder. Her actions, if we heard truthfully—and we know of her marriage to Bothwell when Darnley was scarcely cold—have been such that no virtuous lady can receive her, least of all a queen…and a virgin. I have my reputation to consider.”
He smiled at me sardonically. Was he thinking, as I was, and as so many people would be thinking, of the mysterious death of Amy Robsart in which some rumors had it I had been involved? She must be comparing the similarity of the cases.
I did not want to see her, to listen to her pleas. I did not want a beautiful and fascinating rival at my Court.
Cecil agreed with me that a message should be sent to the North and for the time being she should be lodged in Carlisle Castle where she must be treated with the dignity due her rank.
This was a miracle. The greatest of my enemies had been delivered into my hands.
THERE ARE PEOPLE who must always be at the center of dramatic events. Mary of Scotland was one of them. It was unfortunate for her that a casket containing letters had been left behind in Edinburgh by Bothwell when he escaped to Borthwick. These were said to be the correspondence between Mary and Bothwell. I believed that some of them were forgeries, but like most good forgeries they could not be entirely false. It seemed certain that some of the letters had been written by Mary and if they were all true she was condemned, not only as being Bothwell's mistress before her marriage to him, but an accomplice in the murder of Darnley.
Her reputation was in shreds; but she still managed to charm her jailers. It was becoming more and more clear to me that I must not bring her to my Court. There she would no doubt practice her wiles and there were quite a number of Catholics only waiting for opportunities. She would always be a danger and must remain under supervision so that I knew at any given moment where she was.
She had been moved from several castles and there had been one or two attempts to free her. She seemed to have a way of bemusing her jailers; I did not forget how she had worked on George Douglas when she was sent to Lochleven until he was successful in maneuvering her out of the fortress.
The Catholic peers came up with a solution. Why should she not marry an Englishman with my consent, and then as I would not consider giving the country an heir, I could name her as my successor which would ensure peace with Scotland.
The Duke of Norfolk was suggested. I had never liked Norfolk. I remembered his feud with Robert and I knew that they were bitter enemies. Moreover, although he professed to be a Protestant, I believed he leaned toward the Catholic Faith, and it would not have surprised me if he had been one in private.
If I would marry and provide the heir all this plotting would stop, I knew; but it was too big a price to pay. Besides, Mary of Scotland was a good example of what men could do to a ruler. Robert had been the only one who had tempted me—but no, not even for Robert.
He seemed to be changing his tactics toward Norfolk, and I gathered, although he said little on this matter to me, that he was inclined to agree with those peers who would like to see Norfolk married to Mary. I knew my Robert well. Was he looking ahead to his future? Was he asking himself what his position would be if I were to die? All human beings were at the mercy of God, and people in high places were often at men's mercy too! Was his sudden friendship with Norfolk a sign that he was thinking of him as a future ruler of England? Favorites of past rulers were often not very popular with the reigning ones. Robert would have a good example of that in his own family for his grandfather had been one of the most highly prized of my grandfather's ministers, but when my father came to the throne he lost his head—more or less for that reason. Yes, Robert in some ways was a very cautious man. I was getting older. Soon it would not be possible for me to bear a child—and I was unmarried in any case. Perhaps Robert in his heart knew that I never would be wed and he was making certain provisions for the future.
I sent for Norfolk. I looked him straight in the eyes and said: “My lord, you have become a gallant. I see that you are in love. There is no more romantic sight than a man in love, be it with a woman or with a crown.”
Norfolk looked shaken.
“Your Majesty,” he began, “I know not what…”
“You know not what?” I interrupted. “My lord Norfolk, for such a lover as yourself there must be one thought uppermost in your mind and that is your inamorata—the Queen of Scotland. I know, Norfolk, that you plan to change your title of Duke for that of King.”
I was amused to see the terror in his face. I believe he thought that I had guards waiting to arrest him.
“Nay, Your Majesty,” he said, “I would not seek to marry such a woman… one who is known to be an adulteress… and some say murderess. I want to sleep on a safe pillow.”
“A crown might be worth taking a risk for, Sir Norfolk, eh?”
Norfolk had always prided himself on his rank as the leading peer. I had heard that the family had hinted that they were more royal than the Tudors. He said rather haughtily: “Your Majesty, I count myself as much a prince in my bowling alley in Norfolk as she is in the heart of Scotland. Moreover how could I marry one who pretends a title to the present possession of Your Majesty's crown? If I were to do so, Your Majesty might charge me with seeking the crown of England.”
“Remember it, Norfolk,” I said grimly. “I might well do that.”
When he left me I was sure he was well aware of my sentiments regarding the plan to marry him to Mary. She was a menace. Although I had been exultant when fate had delivered her into my hands I was realizing that she was more disturbing to my peace of mind in England than she had been when she was on her throne in Scotland.
What infuriated me was that she seemed to have the power to win peo– ple to her side. Bereft as she was, her throne lost, relying on my bounty, her reputation become very shady, still she attracted men to her cause. It must have been some essential femininity in her which aroused their protective instincts. I was sure I lacked that quality. I gave the impression that I was able to look after myself—which I was—but why it should be an asset not to possess this gift, I could not see. And yet I could. Men wanted to dominate. It was the very essence of their sex; and there were some women who sought to be dominated and this quality was that which attracted men so strongly. Mary had it to excess. As for myself, I did not possess it at all. My object was to prevent domination. Men professed to love me; they talked of my beauty, my many excellencies; but in my secret heart I knew that it was the crown which dazzled them, not the charms of Elizabeth. They loved me through fear of what might become of them if they didn't; they loved what good I could bring them in power, honors and wealth. But they loved Mary for herself. Perhaps this was one of the reasons why the thought of her so infuriated me, and not because of her pathetic claims to my throne.
Even men like Sir Francis Knollys were not immune to her charms. Sir Francis—my own kinsman and father of the saucy Lettice—had been uneasy with her and in time sorry for her. I trusted Knollys and it seemed to me that he was one of the best men I could have chosen as her jailer, yet I knew she pleaded with him to take her to me and that he pitied her when he gave her the answer he had been ordered to which was that I could not receive her for the sake of my own reputation until she was clear of the charge of murder. Knollys had begged to be released from the duty. But not yet, I thought, not yet.
He was a strict Protestant and when he took her to Bolton he tried to convert her to his views, and although I continued to trust him I began to feel that it might be unwise to leave one man too long in her company, and I had her transferred to Tutbury where the Earl of Shrewsbury could look after her. Not that I felt Shrewsbury would be aloof from her charms but he did have a very forceful wife who had already been much married and I guessed that she would know how to deal with Mary and be quite unmoved by that excessive femininity. I had the excuse for recalling Knollys when his wife died.
This was a great blow to me. Katharine Knollys had been born Carey and her mother had been Mary Boleyn, sister to my mother, so there was a strong blood connection. Katharine was a charming, gentle woman. I had often wondered how she came to have a girl like Lettice.
The whole Court knew how grieved I was by the death of my cousin, and I had her buried in St Edmund's Chapel at my expense. So I took the chance to recall Sir Francis and leave the troublesome Mary in the hands of Shrewsbury.
Robert was constantly in my company, as devoted and adoring as ever. He was persistent in his efforts to make me agree to a marriage, and I liked persistence in men. One would have thought that as the time passed and we were growing older, he would give up hope, but he did not appear to do so. I think his eyes strayed often to other women. I did not mind that as long as I did not know about them. I was prepared for him to have his light love affairs, providing they remained light, and that any engagements he might have with others could be dropped at a moment's notice when I beckoned.
I did notice that the two Howard girls were pursuing him. It amused me—two sisters fighting over one man—and my man at that. I thought Douglass Howard was the more likely to attract him. She was Lady Sheffield now but her marriage could not be very satisfactory as she cast such longing eyes on Robert—though I supposed no warm-natured woman of Lady Sheffield's type could fail to be affected by Robert's superb masculinity.
Douglass must have been rather like Mary Boleyn, the type who found it hard to say no to an attractive man, because they were not only of a giving nature but had fleshly desires of their own. I knew these women. One of my stepmothers had been like that. Katharine Howard. Another Howard. Was it something in the Howard breed? I must ask my Lord Norfolk!
Robert gave no sign in my presence that he even noticed Douglass Sheffield but he was a little piqued because I had given Christopher Hatton part of Bishop Ely's garden—a piece of fertile land between Holborn Hill and Ely Place. I reminded him that I had given him so much more and that all I asked in return was his love and devotion.
“You have that,” he told me soberly, “and it does not need gifts or favors of any sort to maintain it.”
There was a great tenderness between us at this time. I noticed a little white in his dark hair and that endeared him to me. Oh, it was true love I felt for Robert.
In spite of Norfolk's protestations to me I knew that his scheme to marry Mary was still being considered and that there were certain people whom I had thought to be my friends, who supported it. I was afraid of trouble in the North and I did not trust the Catholic peers, therefore I thought I had better put an end to the plotting.
One day when at table I told Norfolk that I wished him to sit beside me. He was a little nervous and I guessed this was because the idea of that marriage was still very strongly on his mind and he was wondering how much I knew.
I could not resist taking his ear between my fingers and nipping it so hard that he winced and referring back to his previous remark I said: “Methinks you should take heed of your pillow, Norfolk.”
Everyone who heard that knew I was aware of the plotting and that I did not like it. Norfolk was very subdued, and a few days later I heard that he had left Court.
He wrote to me from Kenninghall assuring me that he had no intention of doing anything which should not have my favor.
It struck me that this plot had gone further than I had thought and I suspected that Norfolk might be a guilty man, so I ordered him to return to Court without delay. He pleaded illness and I could not prevent myself smiling as I thought of the days of my own danger when illness had been a frequent plea on my lips. I sent word to him that he must consider himself a prisoner, and within a short time he was in the Tower while inquiries were being made concerning the proposed marriage.
Then I had disquieting news which drove all thought of everything else out of my mind. Robert was ill… gravely ill… and begging me to come to him.
As if I would refuse! He was at Tichfield and there I must go with all speed. This I prepared to do, chiding my attendants for their tardiness. I was filled with a terrible foreboding as we set out on the road. I thought of him constantly … Robert over the years … Robert a young boy—arrogant even then—taking my hand in the dance. I was not the Queen then, only a princess, branded a bastard by some, and we had been on equal terms… almost. And then … that awareness of him in the Tower … and his of me… and his coming to me before my accession throwing his gold at my feet. Robert must not die. I could not imagine my life without him.
I went at once to his bedchamber. He was lying in his bed, pale and wan.
“Robert, my love,” I cried.
“Dear one,” he whispered, and his eyes lit up with joy. “So you came to me…”
“As if I would not, you foolish man! Certainly I would be with you and my first command to you now is to come forth from that sick-bed and get back the good health you have always had.”
“I shall die happy now,” he said, “because you are with me. I feared so much to go without seeing you.”
“Be silent, Robert. I will not have such talk.”
He appeared to be finding breathing difficult. “Dearest Majesty, I must talk to you… before…it is… too late.”
“Save your breath,” I commanded, for in truth it frightened me to hear his harsh breathing.
“I… must talk,” he insisted. “There is a plot afoot. I…I am not guiltless. I believed it would be good for England… and that is for you, my loved one…if Norfolk married Mary. I lived in perpetual fear that your life was in danger while the succession is unsettled and that woman lives.”
“Have done with the succession!” I cried. “And stop talking. Save your breath. You need it.”
“Nay…I cannot. I am in great fear that Your Majesty may be in danger. Norfolk plots…in secret with the Queen of Scots. Many of your lords are concerned in this. I have been myself. They meant no treason. They plan to restore Mary to Scotland where, with an English husband, she could be a good friend to England… and to satisfy France and Spain… you name her your successor…”
“I understand,” I said.
“Dearest Majesty, before I go … I must have your forgiveness. Your safety is my only concern. Your forgiveness…I beg you… for the part I played in this. It was no treason against Your Majesty, I swear… though some may try to make it seem so.”
He lay back gasping on his pillow and my whole being shuddered with my anguish. I had never before fully realized how much he meant to me and how empty and dark my life would be without him. Hatton, Heneage, all the pretty men who danced round me… what were they compared with Robert?
“My dearest,” I said. “It is forgiven. I understand.”
“Then I can die in peace.”
“You know I shall not allow that.”
He smiled at me wanly. “One does not speak of death to you. You like it not. You are impatient of death. You are immortal.”
“You are right and I will not have this talk. I shall stay and command you to recover.”
“Already Your Majesty's presence has worked like the elixir of life.”
“My lord Leicester, I shall have you out of that bed and dancing a high measure with me ere long. I insist on that.”
“And surely even the angels will not dare disobey you,” he said.
I kept my word and stayed there with him. His recovery was miraculous and he declared it was my presence which always had the effect of making him feel more alive than he ever could in my absence.
I did wonder how seriously ill he had been. He had certainly not been in his usual blooming health, but I pondered during those days whether his affliction was like one of those which had affected me so frequently before I came to the throne. Was it one of the illnesses of self-preservation? How deeply had Robert been involved with Norfolk? I did not believe for one moment that he would seek to set Mary on the throne. No! I knew my Robert. He had worked with Norfolk for the marriage with his eyes on the future. He believed, as so many did, that when I died Mary would come to the throne, and in that event he would not want to be completely out of favor.
In any case, whatever his motive, for a short time I had lived through the terrible prospect of losing him. Now he was rapidly improving; we played games together and I took the utmost joy in scoring against him, for I knew that my success was due to superior skill and not to royal privilege.
After that time of terrible anxiety the days of Robert's convalescence were sweet indeed. He had no doubt now of my love for him. I could see new hope springing up in his mind. Dear Robert, he would go on thinking of our marriage however old he became.
Well, that was how I liked it to be.
Meanwhile Norfolk stayed in the Tower.
THERE WAS ONE MAN at Court who had served me well and to whom I owed a great deal. He was not one of my favorite men for he was not in the least handsome and lacked the dancing talent of men like Hatton and the courtly grace of Heneage—but he was a man to be reckoned with, clever, subtle and faithful. I refer to Sir Francis Walsingham. He was not an old man being about three years older than I. He was very dark—not with the bold and handsome darkness of Robert, but with a Moorish swarthiness. I grew to appreciate his good works and became quite affectionate toward him and gave him the nickname of The Moor. I had a habit of bestowing such sobriquets on those around me and it was looked on as a mark of my favor to receive one.
He was a stern Protestant and I had always felt that my enemies would most likely be found among the Catholic hierarchy. He was rich and a diplomat, a student of law, which I think was a great asset to him for he had studied for five years in various foreign countries. He was alert and quick to scent treachery. Indeed as I had often proved, a good man to serve me, and when I look back over my life I often think that one of my greatest gifts was an ability to choose the right men. The butterflies of my Court were in a separate category; they delighted and charmed me; but I never forgot for one moment that my strength lay in men like Cecil. Walsingham was such another.
I was deeply shaken when there was an attempted rising in the North by the Earls of Northumberland and Westmorland, the aim of which was to release Mary Stuart and bring back Catholicism to England.
I knew that Northumberland—a rather foolish man—had been annoyed because I had not entrusted Mary to him. How could he think I would be so foolish! He was a well-known Catholic and thought of himself—as all the Percys did—as lord of the North. What was disquieting was that Walsingham had discovered that the Spanish had promised aid to Northumberland and Westmorland if they could bring sufficient numbers to rise against me. The Pope too was behind the rising.
And when I thought that even Robert had joined in the scheme to marry Norfolk to Mary without my knowing, I felt very uneasy.
The plot was well advanced. The Duke of Alva had promised to send over an army of Spaniards. The Marquis of Catena had arrived in England ostensibly to conduct an embassy but in fact to lead the army when it arrived. Pius V had given his blessing to the enterprise.
Fortunately the Earl of Sussex, when paying a friendly call on Northumberland, became suspicious. He came immediately to Cecil and me and told us that he feared a revolt against the crown was being planned.
Cecil advised me to summon Northumberland to London and when I had a letter from him pleading illness, all my suspicions were aroused and I sent guards to him with orders to arrest him if he offered any excuse for not accompanying them. However, Northumberland was just a little too quick for them; he managed to escape and join Westmorland and the two Earls put up their standards, declaring their intentions to bring Mary out of captivity and restore the Catholic Faith to England. It was alarming to discover that a force of seventeen hundred horse and four thousand foot were ready to join them. They were able to march to Durham where they set up the Mass in the Minster. Then they passed through the North celebrating the Mass wherever they went.
Sussex advanced on the North and soon put the rebels to flight and when defeat became obvious those who had enthusiastically marched to set up the Mass decided that they would be safer in their homes.
Westmorland escaped to the Low Countries and after evading his captors for some time, the Earl of Northumberland ended up on the scaffold at York declaring to the end his belief in the Catholic Faith. His head was stuck on Micklegate—a warning to all traitors.
I had to show the people that although I loved dearly those who were true to me and I wished to please them and do their will, I would not tolerate traitors and when I found them I could be as ruthless as my father had been.
Six hundred men had been caught and were soon lifeless corpses hanging on gibbets—a grisly warning to any who thought they could lightly challenge the rights of the Queen.
The North was plunged into mourning.
“This is Mary Stuart's doing,” I said. “When she came into our realm, that was the end of the peaceful days.”
“And so it will be while she remains in it,” retorted Cecil.
I nodded. But how could I be rid of her? There was no evidence that she had been involved in this plot. Plotters used the names of those who were close to the throne, as I knew to my cost. How often had mine been used as the reason for rebellion!
No! Mary was not personally to blame for this—although but for her it would never have taken place.
SIR FRANCIS WALSINGHAM came to me on a matter of great urgency. He had uncovered a conspiracy, and it was his belief that immediate action should be taken.
“It is a plot against Your Majesty's own person,” he declared.
“You had better explain,” I told him.
“I have been watchful of a certain Roberto Ridolfi—a banker from Florence who has, on more than one occasion, been acting suspiciously,” replied Walsingham. “I had reason to believe that he had been supplying money to the Northern rebels at the time of the rising. I took him into my house for questioning. However, nothing was revealed and I no longer had an excuse for detaining him. I let him believe that he was free from suspicion, for then I thought he would go about his business without taking any special care. At the same time I had him watched.”
I nodded. I felt a great affection for men such as my swarthy Moor.
“It came to my knowledge that this man was in touch with Leslie, Bishop of Ross, whom I knew was an agent for Mary of Scotland. Norfolk is involved.”
“Norfolk! That knave!”
“I have intercepted letters, Your Majesty, and I can tell you precisely what was planned. Mary was to marry Norfolk who will become a Catholic and together they were to set up the Catholic Church in England.”
“In England!” I cried. “And what of the Queen of England? Is she supposed to stand aside and say, Do as you will, Your Majesties?”
Walsingham hesitated. Then he said: “Your Majesty, it has been suggested that you will be… assassinated and Mary will take your place. The Pope agrees to help as does Philip of Spain. The plan is that as soon as they have killed Your Majesty, Alva arrives with an army to subdue any rising against them. The letters were entrusted to a certain Charles Baillie whom I have arrested, and I trust I have Your Majesty's approval for doing so. I have put him on the rack and have had a full confession from him.”
“You did not tell us what was happening, Walsingham.”
“Your Majesty, I knew I was on a trail. I trusted no one and wanted to keep the matter to myself until I had something to show you, for I did not want to come to you until I had the evidence to lay before you. I have letters written in Norfolk's hand. He has signed two documents. One that he is a Catholic and the other pledging himself to stand at the head of an army which Philip promises to send when the moment is ripe.”
“The perfidy of the rogue!” I said. “Why did I spare him before?”
“He was not implicated then, Your Majesty, as he is now.”
“He is indeed now.”
“As are Ridolfi and the Queen of Scots.”
I nodded. “I thank you for your good services. They shall not be forgotten.”
“It is my joy to serve Your Majesty.”
“I will send for Cecil,” I said. “I shall acquaint him with what you have said. And stay with us. I would like him to hear all from you and see your evidence.”
It was damning.
There was nothing which could save Norfolk now.
SCENTING DANGER, RIDOLFI had returned to Italy where I heard later that the Pope had received him warmly and given him honors. He was out of our reach, but Norfolk was not… nor was Mary.
Mary had been proved an enemy once more. There were letters in her handwriting. She clearly accepted Norfolk as her husband-to-be and she knew on what terms help was coming from Philip of Spain and the Duke of Alva. She was as guilty as Norfolk.
There were some who said: “Here is your chance. Destroy this woman now and she will be out of your way forever.”
I thought of it—indeed I had sleepless nights thinking of it. She was guilty. She had schemed to overthrow me and if necessary take my life to do so. She had plotted to murder me, or at least she had connived at it … just as she had in the case of Lord Darnley.
I had every reason to send her to the block, to condemn her to the death she had agreed should be imposed on me.
Oddly enough, I could not do it. I hated her. I wanted her out of the way. She was a menace and yet I could not give orders to kill her. She was a queen for one thing. One queen cannot kill another. There must be some respect for royalty.
Strangely enough, I was not sure that I wanted her out of the way. She maddened me but I liked to hear about her. I suppose I was more interested in her than in any other woman. I was foolish. How should I ever know when she was planning to kill me? Yet I could not bring myself to sign that death warrant.
The guard should be tightened about her. There should be no more smuggling in of traitors' letters.
She was my prisoner and she could never be anything else while I lived. Sometimes I marvel at my leniency toward that woman. Sometimes I thought she fascinated me as certainly as she had all those fine gentlemen who fell victim to her charms.
I had no such qualms about Norfolk.
On a hot June day he went out to Tower Hill where the executioner was waiting for him with his axe.
