Текст книги "Queen of This Realm"

Автор книги: Jean Plaidy

Соавторы: Jean Plaidy
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After much reflection, I rallied my courage. Though fearful, I wrote a carefully worded letter to the Lord Protector in which I told him that I trusted and believed in his good will toward me. I asked him directly to make a declaration that people should refrain from circulating falsehoods about me, for they must know that they were falsehoods, and I was sure they would wish to protect the King's sister from such calumny.

As a result of that letter, the Council replied that if I could point out these people who were spreading lies about me, they should be suitably punished.

It was at least some slight consolation.

I fretted for Kat. I wanted her with me. I missed her love and her gossip. I decided to plead with the Protector for her return. I could not bear to think of her a prisoner in the Tower.

“My Lord,” I wrote,

“I have a request to make… peradventure you and the Council will think I favor her evil doing, for whom I shall speak, which is Katharine Ashley, that it would please Your Grace and the rest of the Council to be good unto her. Which thing I do, not favor her in any evil (for which I would be sorry to do), but for these considerations that follow, the which hope doth teach me in saying that I ought not to doubt but that Your Grace and the rest of the Council will think that I do it for other considerations. First, because that she hath been with me a long time, and many years, and hath taken great labor and pain in bringing me up in learning and honesty; and therefore I ought of very duty speak for her; for Saint Gregorie sayeth, ‘that we are more bound to them that bringeth us up well than to our parents, for our parents do that which is natural for them that bringeth us into the world, but our bringers-up are a cause to make us live well in it.' The second is because I think that whatsoever she hath done in my Lord Admiral's matter, as concerning the marrying of me, she did it because, knowing him to be one of the Council, she thought he would not go about any such thing without he had the Council's consent thereunto; for I have heard her say many times that she would never have me marry in any place without Your Grace's and the Council's consent. The third cause is, because that it shall, and doth, make men think that I am not clear of the deed myself but that it is pardoned to me because of my youth, because that she I loved so well is in such a place…

“Also, if I may be so bold and not offending, I beseech Your Grace—and the rest of the Council to be good to Master Ashley, her husband, which because he is my kinsman I would be glad should do well.

“Your assured friend to my little power, Elizabeth.”

I hoped my appeal would not fall on deaf ears. I did have some faith in Somerset. He lacked all the charm and good looks of his brother, but I believed him to be a just man and honest as far as men can be when the acquisition of power is the main object of their lives.

I felt numbed when a friend whispered to me that the Admiral was condemned to death. That spy Tyrwhit would be watching me closely. I must prepare myself to show no emotion when the news was brought to me of his execution.

It arrived on a blustery March day. I had steeled myself. When Tyrwhit came to me, he was not alone. He wanted evidence of the manner in which I received the news so that he could report with corroboration to his masters.

“My lady,” he said, “this day Thomas Seymour laid his head upon the block.”

They were watching me, all of them. I clasped my hands. They did not tremble.

I said clearly, for I had rehearsed the words: “This day died a man of much wit and very little judgment.”

Calmly I took my leave of them and went into my chamber.

THREE YEARS HAD PASSED SINCE THE DEATH OF THOMAS Seymour, and I believed I had succeeded in living down the scandals which had been circulating about me at that time. I had become very ill. I do not think I realized until after the Admiral's death the strain I had endured. I had not exactly loved him—in fact I still find it difficult to analyze my feelings toward him—but death is so irrevocable and when it befalls someone whom one has known well it is a shock, particularly when one has been in fear of one's own life.

My youth, I was sure, had saved me and also the fact that I was considered of no great importance; but I knew that as my years increased, so would the danger with them.

Lady Tyrwhit was kind to me during the months following the Admiral's death and I grew fond of her, but no one could replace Kat. The Protector was, I think, a little concerned for my state of health and sent Dr Bill, a good physician, to look after me. Dr Bill realized that the cause of my debility was not entirely physical and he prescribed that my old governess, who had been released from the Tower but forbidden to return to me, should be brought back, for he was sure her presence would have a beneficial effect on my health.

To my great joy the Protector agreed, and what a glorious day that was when we were reunited. We just clung together weeping and assuring ourselves that it was really true.

Poor Kat, she had had a terrifying experience and she told me of her fears when she had been taken away. “The Tower, my lady … and we had betrayed you. Parry and I betrayed you…”

I hugged her and kissed her and told her she was a treacherous old idiot and I did not know why I loved her.

Then she said very seriously: “I would serve you with my life.” And I knew she would, and I fervently hoped she would never come within the shadow of the rack again.

I had resumed my studies with Roger Ascham and they were a source of great joy to me. Edward and I wrote to each other and he was very annoyed because we were not allowed to be together. Edward was at this time thirteen and I was seventeen. After the Admiral's death I was kept very much in the background and hardly ever asserted myself; and when Edward suggested that I ask for a meeting I refrained from doing so, having learned a lesson. A seventeen-year-old girl would appear in a very different light from one of fourteen. I must never again become embroiled in what could be construed as treason. But when Edward asked for my portrait as he could not see me in person, that was one request with which I could comply.

Soon after Thomas's execution, dark clouds began to gather about the head of the Protector. The state of the country was not good; there was trouble with the Scots in the North and they had taken several castles on the Border; war was declared by the French; but the chief cause of friction was perhaps the religious conflicts within the realm. Moreover, through miscalculations, more land was being turned from arable into pasture which created hardship and resulted in the depreciation of the currency; there were risings in Oxfordshire, Buckinghamshire and Norfolk, and this last was developing into more than a revolt of the peasants. It was a rebellion, which was at length crushed successfully by John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, a man of immense ambition. His triumph in Norfolk was the start of his campaign against the Lord Protector. He obviously wanted to oust Somerset from his place and take it himself. I did not know John Dudley, but I did remember a son of his whom I had met during one of his visits to Court when I was about eight years old. We had danced together. He was about a year older than I, and something in our natures had attracted us to each other. I think we both had an unusually high opinion of ourselves, children though we were!

So when I heard that John Dudley was emerging as an enemy of Edward Seymour all I knew of him was that he was the son of the powerful Edmund Dudley who had been held responsible for the taxes imposed by my grandfather King Henry VII and whom my father had sacrificed to the block in order to placate the people soon after his accession. That… and he had a son named Robert.

Although I was far from the center of events, I had my own informants, careful though they were—so I was aware that two ambitious men were determined to rule the King, and through him the country. Each had his supporters, and I confess to thinking that Seymour, as the King's uncle, would prevail, for although Edward was but a boy, his word must be taken some account of, and he would always remember—even though he had rebelled against his sternness—that Edward Seymour was his uncle.

After his success against the Norfolk peasantry, John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, as he was by then, had brought two hundred captains to Seymour to demand more pay for the work they had done. When the Protector refused this, Warwick suggested that they gather together a body of men who were tired of the Protector's rule and overthrow him. Somerset, however, managed to raise ten thousand men and went to Windsor with the King. But the Council had had enough of Somerset by then. He was an able man, if ambitious, but he was stern and his manner brusque—the opposite of his brother's—and that had not endeared him to them.

Events turned against him, and it was not long before he too was judged a traitor and lodged in the Tower.

How thankful I was then to be away from Court. I did wonder what part my brother had played in this. Had he also resented those days when Somerset controlled his purse strings?

Warwick took over the role of Protector, but he could not bring himself to agree to Somerset's execution; nor could others. I supposed it crossed their minds that they could as easily be in Somerset's shoes.

So he was released, and when his eldest daughter Anne married Warwick's eldest son, Viscount Lisle, it seemed as though the two families had patched up their quarrel. Perhaps Somerset hoped to return to his former position; perhaps Warwick feared him; but it was not long before the King's uncle was once more in acute danger.

A death struggle was taking place between Edward Seymour and John Dudley. Each had his advocates but surely, as the King's uncle, Seymour must prevail even though Edward had never liked this uncle. Thomas had been his favorite and yet he had given evidence against him although he had always been so affectionate toward him. I did not altogether understand my young brother. There was something aloof and cool about him. He could not be swerved from an opinion, and he was quite fanatically religious, having more and more turned to the new reformed faith.

Events might have turned out more favorably for Edward Seymour if he had not fallen ill and had to take to his bed. That gave John Dudley his chance. He immediately gave himself a grander title than that of Earl of Warwick, and became the Duke of Northumberland; and his close friends were similarly raised to the peerage.

Then, one of his adherents, a certain Sir Thomas Palmer, who had served my father well and acquired a reputation for great courage along with a fair amount of property, decided that he had not prospered as he would have wished under the Seymour regime, and could look for advancement under that of John Dudley. One day he called on the Duke and asked if he might walk with him in his gardens. There he disclosed what he called the plot. He had evidence, he said, that Edward Seymour was planning to kill the newly created Duke of Northumberland. He was sure of this because he had been one of the conspirators. However, he had changed his mind and no longer wished to support Somerset and he was therefore throwing himself on Northumberland's mercy. The plot was to raise the country against Northumberland and bring about his downfall.

Shortly after that Edward Seymour was arrested and sent to the Tower.

For six weeks he remained there while evidence against him was collected and sifted. He was then accused of plotting to destroy the city of London, seize the Tower and the Isle of Wight and secure for himself and his heirs the crown of England.

I could scarcely believe that the man of whom we had all lived in awe for so long was now himself a prisoner.

Some months before this I had come out of my retirement. I thought the scandals had been forgotten by this time and I did not want to remain buried in the country forever. Perhaps I was safer there but after the period following the Admiral's execution I had felt so shut away that I was longing for some excitement however dangerous it might be.

My sister Mary arrived in London a day or so before I did and was given a warm welcome, but Mary was such a firm Catholic, holding so tenaciously to the old ways, that people did watch her rather warily; and when I rode in shortly afterward, there was no doubt of their pleasure in me.

I caught the whisper: “How like her father she is! It might be great Henry himself riding there! That is just how he must have looked in his young days.”

I had his reddish hair and general coloring. I sat my horse well. I was upright, but whereas he had had great bulk, I was very slim. They cheered me. “Long live the Princess Elizabeth!” And I went on hearing those words echo long after I had left the streets. They were the sweetest music to me. I wanted more of their admiration after my long isolation. I responded with a rush of happiness. The truth was that I wanted to ride among them, to see their smiling faces and to hear and sense that they loved me.

Edward was delighted to see me, and made a great show of his affection, which made everyone marvel because with most people he was so aloof. He made me tell him what I was studying with Roger Ascham and we talked of Cicero and the Greek Testament with more excitement than I was sure Edward showed for the affairs of the country.

I told him about my household and the latest indiscretions of Kat Ashley, which made him smile. I had Parry back with me now, which was another great joy, but as I told Edward, now I was watchful of the household accounts myself.

We read to each other and chatted in Latin and were very happy together.

He said nothing about the trouble between Northumberland and Somerset and I was wise enough not to mention it, although I should have loved to know what his feelings were, considering it was his uncle who was in the Tower awaiting death. Perhaps he did not care, for he had been fond of Thomas and appeared quite indifferent when he went to the block.

I was very disturbed to receive a letter from Edward Seymour begging me to speak to the King on his behalf. He knew the King's love for me and he was sure I could influence him more than anyone else. If I would remind the King of their relationship and the love his uncle had always borne him…

I pondered that. I should have liked to show people the influence I had with Edward, but caution was at my elbow. Remember Thomas Seymour, it said. Whatever happens, do not become embroiled in their quarrels. If Northumberland knew that I had pleaded for his enemy, what would his feelings be toward me?

No, certainly I must take no part in their quarrel.

“Being so young a woman,” I wrote to him, “I have no power to do anything in your behalf”; and I went on to explain that the King was surrounded by those who would resent my making such a request to him.

I was delighted to come out of my retirement and I was pleased that so many people were intent on paying respect to me. Whether this was due to the King's affection for me or whether many of them were looking ahead to the future when, if certain events took place, I might one day be Queen, I did not know; but it was very gratifying. The previous year Mary of Guise, who had married the King of Scotland, had come to Hampton Court. She had been granted safe conduct when she was returning to Scotland from France, whither she had been to visit her mother at Joinville, and storms had driven her into Portsmouth Harbour, so she had stopped at Hampton Court to pay a visit to the King. She was received with many honors and she and her ladies, although they were only in the country for a week or so, had a great influence on the fashions. The French costumes were copied, and hair was worn frizzed and curled just as the French ladies wore it.

This had the effect of making our ladies all look very much alike, so I decided to have none of it. I wore my own hair smooth and clung to the plainness of my ordinary garments. This meant that I attracted attention everywhere I went, and if the ladies of the Court thought I was out of step, the people in the streets liked it. I heard warm compliments everywhere– “Our little English Princess,” they called me. And the approval of the people in the streets meant more to me than that of frivolous courtiers. It was also perhaps a sense that I was gaining of how to be entirely myself that I might always be marked for my individual view and never one to accept the mode of the moment, whether of dress or of more important matters.

In due course the inevitable happened. Edward Seymour lost his head on the block—three years after the death of his brother, the Admiral.

Our master was now John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland.

CLEARLY I REMEMBER that Christmas of 1552. The festivities were held at Greenwich and I was looking forward to spending much time with my brother.

As soon as I was in his presence I noticed that he looked rather more tired than usual, although he had never been robust. I inquired anxiously after his health and he told me he had a wretched cough which kept him awake at night.

I asked what his physicians thought about it. “They are always hanging round me,” he told me.

There were the usual entertainments, which most seemed to enjoy, but I was aware of a certain preoccupation in the minds of those present, not least the Duke of Northumberland, and I guessed there was a good deal of concern for the King's condition.

I myself felt very uneasy wondering what would happen if Edward died. Mary—according to my father's will—should be Queen, but for so many years there had been such deep divisions among the people about religion. She was fanatical in her beliefs and declared that she would die for them, so if she became Queen it was certain that she would attempt to bring Catholicism back to the whole country as the one true faith. There were many who were violently against that—Edward himself for one—but if it came to it, he would not be here to have a say!

I could see great trouble if Edward should die. I must tread warily among those who continued to watch me. If Mary came to the throne and England became again a Catholic country, what next? Should we have the dread Inquisition introduced into the land? Mary's mother had been Katharine of Aragon of course, and she had brought up Mary close to Spanish as well as Roman influences. There would be many to stand against any purge of the new faith, my friends assured me. But I was determined to hold my own counsel in matters of faith. Fanaticism had no appeal to me.

Edward being so poorly, all these thoughts must enter the mind, and in view of my own position as one who had had a Protestant upbringing—even though I could be very flexible in the matter of religion—I knew I was passing into dangerous times.

I was alert, watchful—that was a memorable Christmas for me.

I do not know whether Edward felt death near, but during the months which followed he began to concern himself very deeply with the poor and needy. He talked to me about them and how it grieved him to contemplate their sufferings. He wanted to do something for them and no matter what opposition he encountered he intended to.

There was, as a matter of fact, no opposition to his proposals. Perhaps those about him felt they had to humor a dying boy.

The first thing he did was hand over the Palace of Bridewell to the corporation of London as a workhouse for poor and idle people, which meant that there could always be a roof over the heads of some who would otherwise be homeless, as long as they were prepared to comply with the rules of the institution. He had arranged that Christ's Hospital, the old Greyfriars' Monastery, should be turned into a school for poor scholars, and that St Thomas's Hospital should be used for the treatment of the poor who were sick.

These arrangements seemed to give him much pleasure and I told him that his goodness would be remembered for centuries to come and that contented him and I am sure made him feel that however ineffectual he was as a king, he had achieved something of value which would live after him.

I could have wept when I looked at his pale thin face; he had lost a great deal of weight during the months since Christmas. He said he felt tired always.

Once, when I was riding through London, I saw two men in the pillory and on asking what had been their offense, I was told that they had talked unwarily of the King's illness and said that he was being slowly poisoned.

I shivered, though I did not believe this calumny for a moment. But it did mean that the country was preparing itself for the death of the boy King, so I went down to Hatfield and decided to watch events from some little distance.

I had been made aware—by some who held concern for my future—of what was in Northumberland's mind. Lord Guildford Dudley was married to Lady Jane Grey. Guildford was Northumberland's fourth son, but the others were all married. Later I often thought how close Robert Dudley came to being in Guildford's shoes.

July had come and on the sixth of that month a terrible storm blew up– the worst in living memory. The sky darkened and the thunder rolled; and people gazed in terror at the sky, fearing such a storm could only be an expression of God's anger.

My brother Edward lay in his bed at Greenwich Palace. He must have known that he was near the end of his life, but he would not be afraid to die. In fact I believed he would welcome death. He was not suited to his role; he would never be a great king; he was as different from our father as it was possible to be. I thought of Mary who stood next in line. She had been kind to me always but I knew she would alienate the people, with her intense religious fervor, and there were many people in the country who were determined to remain Protestant. Oh, why had a perverse fate in the first place made me a girl and in the second set me so far from the throne! I had had the good sense to go to Hatfield realizing that it is necessary to remain at a safe distance from great events, until one has decided what is the best way to act. The time was not yet ripe for me.

It was on that same sixth day of July that a messenger arrived at Hatfield. I did not recognize his livery but he asked if he could speak to me alone. I immediately granted this permission, and when he told me he came from William Cecil, I was all attention.

Sir William Cecil had been Protector Somerset's secretary, and when his master fell, Cecil had been put into the Tower where he stayed for two months. It was clear, however, that he was a man of exceptional ability, and so he was released and became one of the Secretaries of State. He had effected some business for me once during the lifetime of Somerset, and I had a fancy that he had been rather impressed by me and felt a certain friendship for me. I understood that he secretly saw me as the hope of the future as far as the Protestants were concerned. He feared the accession of my half-sister Mary and the havoc it could bring and he had risked a great deal to send to me now.

The messenger told me that he was a very confidential servant of Sir William who had entrusted him with this errand. The Duke of Northumberland, he told me, had prevailed upon the ill young King to name Lady Jane Grey as his successor.

“That is impossible!” I cried. “My father stated clearly in his will that the Lady Mary, as his eldest daughter, was to follow Edward if he died without heirs.”

“That is so, my lady, but the Duke of Northumberland has persuaded the King to change that. It is for this reason that Northumberland has married his son Guildford Dudley to the Lady Jane. They intend her to be Queen, and Guildford King.”

“The country will never allow it.”

“So thinks my master. But he has sent me hither, my lady, to warn you that you are in grave danger. As soon as the King dies, the Duke will request you and the Lady Mary to come to London. When you arrive you will be placed in the Tower—for your safety, he will say. My lady, my master has sent me to say that you must find some excuse for not obeying that summons.”

“I see,” I said. “Thank your master. I shall not forget his service to me. I intend to retire to my bed with a grievous sickness which will prevent my leaving here until I am well enough to do so.”

“That is what my master thinks you should do, my lady.”

As soon as he had gone I went to bed, and sure enough later that day Northumberland's messenger arrived. He begged to see me at once and was told that I was sick. I sent Kat down to see what he had to say.

She returned breathless. “The Duke of Northumberland sends hastily to you. The King is grievously sick and wishes to see you.”

I thought to myself: Edward is already dead. Oh, William Cecil you are a very good friend to me.

Kat returned to tell the messenger that I was much too ill myself to leave my bed but as soon as I was well enough I should go to my brother.

That had to satisfy him for the time.

Kat came back to me a little reproachfully. “The King has been a good brother to you, my lady.”

“Indeed he was.”

“And what is this sudden sickness?”

“An attack of wisdom, Kat. Northumberland wants me in the Tower. He knows the people will not easily accept Jane Grey.”

Kat was bewildered, but I told her what I knew, so that we could talk together.

A few days later, the news was released.

The King was dead, and before he had died, since both of his sisters were declared bastards, he had named Lady Jane Grey heir to the throne. For that reason the Duke of Northumberland, following the King's wishes, had proclaimed Lady Jane Queen of England.

Even though I had been expecting this, it was hard to believe it. How dared Northumberland! John Dudley was a bold man, I knew, but this was madness. He had made Jane his daughter-in-law with this in mind, of course, but the country would never accept this flouting of the natural laws of succession. I would be ready to swear that my sister Mary was already gathering forces to take the crown. But… which way would the battle go? So much depended on the people. Mary was the rightful heir but did the people want an ardent Catholic? Mary had right on her side, but Northumberland was a very powerful man.

The country was aghast. I heard that many believed that the great storm which had thundered while the King lay dying was an indication of God's wrath because the wishes of King Henry VIII had been set aside and his daughters disinherited for the sake of his sister's granddaughter.

Would the people accept the violation of the law?

But, to my outrage, the fact remained that Lady Jane Grey had been proclaimed Queen of England.

I WAS RIGHT when I had thought the country would never accept this flagrant violation of the rights of succession. Men flocked to Mary's banner and deserted that of Northumberland. Within a week or so the Duke and Jane Grey, Guildford Dudley with her, were in the Tower. My sister Mary was proclaimed Queen of England. Poor Jane, she had never wanted to be Queen; she had even had to be beaten into submission before she would agree to marry Guildford Dudley, and I heard that she had fainted when they had told her that she was the Queen. She was not yet seventeen and had never been ambitious; she was merely the tool of power-seeking men. I was very sorry for her. She had been ensconced in the White Tower, living with the state of a queen awaiting her coronation, and straight from there was taken to the House of the Lieutenant of the Tower, there to await the axe. Guildford was sent to Beauchamp Tower with his brothers. I thought fleetingly of Robert and supposed this would be the end of him. He must have been fighting with his father when he was captured. I was sorry; he had been an interesting boy and I had noticed him from the first. I remembered now how something had been said about marriage and I had replied very firmly: “I have no intention of marrying… ever …” which had made him laugh and tell me I was only a girl and would change my mind later. Strange that I should remember that. I supposed it was because he was now a prisoner in the Tower destined for imminent death. The Tower, where my beautiful mother had lost her head! I had felt this sadness at the time of Katharine Howard's death, and I thought again now how close the axe was to us all. And perhaps a little nearer to some than others!

I should have to be even more wary. I was only one step from the throne now and Mary was not exactly a robust lady, nor was she very young. She would have to be quick if she were going to produce an heir to the throne. And if she did not…I could grow dizzy contemplating the prospect. But none knew more than I that there were dangerous times to be lived through first.

What should I do now? I needed William Cecil to advise me. My own wits told me that I should do nothing until commanded to by the Queen. I wondered what Mary's attitude to me would be. My great dread was that she would try to make a Catholic of me. I must not accept that. I had guessed the mood of the people and I knew they did not want Catholicism again in this country, and from now on my actions were going to be those which would best please the people. But I must needs disguise my religious convictions meanwhile. Such as they were.

Messengers from my sister arrived at Hatfield. It was her wish that I should ride beside her when she made her triumphant entry into London. Now was the time for me to recover from my illness and prepare for my journey.

On the twenty-ninth of July I left Hatfield and attended by two thousand horsemen armed with spears and bows, I came to Somerset House, which now belonged to me. With us came the members of my household, all very splendid in green coats faced with velvet, taffeta or satin. I was proud of them, for I did not want to show myself to the people of London as a pauper.