Queen of This Realm Read online

  She said she believed me and gave me a pearl necklace and a hood of rich sable fur as a token of her regard for me.

  And feeling more easy in my mind than I had for some time, I rode down to Ashridge.

  IN SPITE OF MY determination to live quietly in the country, out of harm's way, I was now passing into what some might say was the most dangerous period of my life. I knew there were strong feelings against Mary's proposed Spanish match; Sir William Cecil had made me aware of the antagonism of the powerful Spanish and French Ambassadors; what I did not know was that those who wished me well could prove my undoing.

  Jane Grey was still in the Tower but I felt sure that in due course my sister intended to release her. I had heard that the Spanish Ambassador had urged her to sign the order for Jane's execution and that Mary refused, saying that the girl was in her present position through no fault of her own, for she was just turned sixteen years old and it was certain that she had never sought the greatness which had been thrust upon her. I was glad that Mary could still stand firm against Renaud, but I wondered how firm she would be when she married Philip, if it came to that.

  I was sorry for Mary in a way. She suffered such ill health and from what I had seen she was ready to idolize Philip. Since her mother had died there could have been little love in her life, and Mary, like so many of those stern and forbidding people, craved love more than most of us. I had had to make do with the devotion of my servants, people like Kat Ashley; but I had had that, and I had always been sure of my ability to attract people to me. The cheers of the people in the streets filled me with wild exulting happiness; but that was different. I wanted no lover who would, as lovers do in time, seek to control me. I did not want love as Mary did. She had not yet seen Philip yet her eyes softened at the mention of him, her voice grew gentle and she glowed with a rare softness. Oh, if ever Philip came to England he would have an easy victory. He would so subjugate the Queen that he would become the country's unquestioned ruler—unquestioned by her, but not by the people. I had a feeling that they would never tolerate the yoke of Spain. They would look to others to release them from it. I shivered yet exulted at the thought.

  Never, never again, must I go to Mass, however unwillingly.

  It seemed that Mary was satisfied with shedding the blood of Northumberland—with which everyone would agree. He had been the instigator of the plot; he was the villain who had tried to change the succession. She blamed him and few others. The Dudley men were still in the Tower under sentence of death; even Guildford still lived. It was certainly wrong to brand Mary a cruel Queen.

  She wanted peace, and she wanted Philip and an heir to the throne; but what she wanted more than anything was to bring England back to Rome. As I saw it that would be her tragedy and that of the nation, for she did not understand the English people well enough to realize that although they will appear acquiescing up to a point, although they will give the impression that they are too lazy to care much about serious matters, there will come a point when they take a stand, and then they will be formidable.

  I knew this, but then I had made the people of England my special concern, and I always would, for I knew that finally they are the ones who make the decisions.

  It was not long before there was a protest about the proposed marriage, and because of my position and in spite of the fact that I was hidden away in the country, I was made the center of it.

  Whether Thomas Wyatt would have become involved if Edward Courtenay had not approached him, I doubt. Courtenay, who had been such a favorite of Mary's since as a prisoner in the Tower he had knelt before her on the Green and obtained his pardon, was naturally angry because she had turned from him and was planning to take Philip of Spain for her husband. Perhaps some latent ambition in Courtenay had been fired; perhaps he had set his mind on being King through Mary. He had not taken kindly to the idea of marriage with me. Nor had I. I considered him weak and I had no admiration for weak men. Moreover I saw in marriage a trap—not only to my personal freedom but to my future plans. When the time came…if the time came…I wanted to be free and uncluttered.

  However, the plotters calculated that if Mary could be deposed and I set up as Queen with Courtenay as my husband (no foreigners were wanted) we should put an end to the Spanish threat and ensure a Protestant country.

  Thus Sir Thomas Wyatt became leader of that insurrection which was to put me in acute peril.

  He was the son of that other Thomas Wyatt, friend of my father, who had been in love with my mother. After a somewhat wild youth he had distinguished himself in military operations, and had supported Mary when Northumberland had tried to put Jane Grey on the throne; but the decision to marry Philip of Spain had disturbed and angered him. Yet he might have been like so many of his countrymen, resentful but inactive, had he not had a communication from Edward Courtenay suggesting that he should stand with him against the Spanish match.

  Wyatt was a good soldier but an impulsive young man. Instead of weighing up the chances of success, he immediately declared his willingness to join in; and he was certain that he could arouse the whole of Kent to the cause.

  Accordingly he invited all the noblemen of the neighborhood to Allington Castle, the Kentish home of the Wyatt family, to discuss plans. In the meantime Courtenay with the Earl of Suffolk and others tried to do the same. Their efforts met with no success and they were soon betrayed and arrested which left Wyatt as leader of the operation to which he had merely been called in to take a part.

  It was too late for him to desist as he had always made his feelings clear and put himself in a very unsafe position, so he went to Maidstone, proclaimed his intentions there and, using the skill he had acquired in the army, soon had fifteen hundred men under his command while as many as five thousand had promised to join him. Cannon and ammunition were sent to him by sympathizers and when news of what was happening reached the Queen and her advisers in London, it was decided that action must be taken.

  First a proclamation was made, offering free pardon to all those rebels who would go peacefully to their homes. This had the effect of depriving Wyatt of a great many of his followers. Some of those who had set out to join him had been intercepted and dispersed by the Queen's forces.

  In a week or so the euphoria had faded and Wyatt's position looked desperate. It had not been his idea in the first place and I fancy he must have been regretting that he had ever been caught up in an enterprise which had little hope of succeeding. He tried to uphold the spirits of those who remained with him by telling them that help from France was on the way, which seemed plausible enough because the last thing the French wanted was a union between England and Spain.

  At Ashridge I waited eagerly for the news. I knew, as did everyone else, that the object of the insurrection was to depose Mary and set me up in her place. My feelings were mixed. I did not want to come to the throne in this way. History had taught me that it is most unsafe for one monarch to depose another. I thought of Henry IV and my own grandfather Henry VII. Neither of these men had worn the crown with any sense of security. Always they had been on the lookout for those who would rise against them. When the crown came to me I wanted it to come naturally…by right of inheritance. I did not want to snatch it from my sister who many would continue to think was the rightful heir. Had my advice been sought I would never have agreed to Wyatt's making this effort.

  But he had done so and I—however unwillingly—was involved.

  Wyatt had a stroke of luck. The Queen sent a force to meet him, but she and her advisers had foolishly miscalculated Wyatt's strength. The force was not as strong as Wyatt's and when it reached Rochester and realized the size of the army ranged against it, the Queen's men lost heart. Some of them even joined Wyatt; the leaders fled; and soon Wyatt was marching on London at the head of four thousand men.

  The government was in a panic. It needed time to raise an army and, to gain time, it offered to parley with Wyatt. Mary then showed herself to be a true Queen, and her fat
her's daughter. She went to the Guildhall and there spoke to the people of London, telling them that they must rise and save the city from the rebels. She was the Queen and had no intention of parleying with traitors and she called on the citizens of London to come to the protection of their city.

  In the midst of all this a messenger came to Ashridge.

  Kat came bursting into my chamber, full of excitement. Her experiences in the Tower had subdued her a little, but there were times when she could not suppress her excitement at what was happening. She was so certain that I was going to be the savior of my country, and the sooner I was on the throne the better.

  “My lady,” she cried, “there is a gentleman below who would see you. He says it is of the utmost importance.”

  “What gentleman is this?” I asked, and I felt alarm beginning to stir in me. If it was someone connected with the rebellion, I wanted none of it.

  “It is young Lord Russell, my lady. The Earl of Bedford's son.”

  “What does Bedford's son want here?”

  “Better go and see, my lady,” replied Kat, her eyes glistening.

  I hesitated. Should I see him? Was it wise?

  I went to him. He fell on his knees before me, a gesture which both delighted and alarmed me.

  He said he had come with a message from Sir Thomas Wyatt. Sir Thomas begged me not to go near the metropolis … in fact to remove myself farther from it than I was at present.

  I replied: “Why should I do this, my lord?”

  “My lady, great events are afoot. Sir Thomas Wyatt is anxious that you should be kept out of danger.”

  “I have no part in Sir Thomas Wyatt's matters,” I said.

  He bowed and replied that he had merely come to deliver the message. I was relieved when he went.

  A few days later the Queen's messenger arrived.

  I was very cautious now and I remained in my bedchamber whenever anyone came to Ashridge. Thus I did not emerge until I was sure who the visitors were, so I did not see the Queen's messenger until I was prepared for him.

  Kat came to my room, her eyes wide, and even she was alarmed.

  “He has come to escort you to London on orders of the Queen,” she said.

  I felt faint. I did not believe for one moment that Wyatt would succeed; moreover one of his fellow conspirators was Suffolk, the father of Jane Grey. If the rebellion was a success, I would not be the one he would want to see Queen. Jane was a prisoner in the Tower and Suffolk's plan would surely be to release her and put her back on the throne.

  I looked at Kat. I was already pulling off my gown.

  “Come, help me to bed,” I said.

  She stared at me.

  “Hurry!” I cried. “I am grievously sick and far too ill to go to London.”

  It was only when I was in my bed, with the sheets drawn up to my chin that the Queen's messenger was allowed to be sent to me, and when he came he was clearly dismayed to see me in my bed.

  “You must tell me your business,” I said faintly.

  “My lady, the Queen's orders are that you must come to her in London without delay, where you will be most heartily welcome.”

  “Pray convey my thanks to Her Majesty and tell her how grieved I am to be laid so low that I cannot take advantage of her goodness.”

  “The Queen will be most displeased if I return without Your Grace.”

  “Tell her I rejoice in her goodness to me and how sad I am not to be able to take advantage of it.”

  He was very reluctant to go, and would not until I had written a letter to the Queen telling her that I was too ill to travel, but as soon as I was able I would come to her, and I begged Her Majesty's forbearance for a few days.

  After the messenger had gone I was taken by a fit of trembling and I had no need to feign illness.

  Kat was concerned. “You are really ill,” she said. “Tell me, where is the pain?”

  “It is in my head,” I replied, “which has suddenly become very insecure on my shoulders.”

  News from London dribbled in. Many had rallied to Mary's banner and Wyatt had been proclaimed a traitor. The Tower and the bridges were fortified and a reward of land was offered to anyone who could capture Wyatt.

  I did not write to the Queen myself, but commanded the officers of my household to do so, telling her that my indisposition was the sole reason why I did not hasten to London. They daily hoped for my improvement, but at the time there was no sign of it and they considered that in the circumstances it was their duty to let Her Majesty know of my state.

  It was respite. But I knew it could not continue.

  Poor foolish Wyatt! He had planned so fecklessly. He had thought he could march on St James's and capture the Queen. But there were traitors in his following who were only too ready to betray his plans for the sake of reward. Mary's Council decided to allow him to advance right into the city and then descended on him from all sides. When he came through Kensington to Hyde Park he was met by some of the Queen's men and after a skirmish his forces were considerably depleted and many, who had no heart for the fight, slunk away. He passed St James's without making an attempt to capture the Queen, for she was too well guarded, and passing Charing Cross and coming to the Strand and Fleet Street, he found his way was barred at Ludgate, and unable to make an assault on the gate, he retreated; but by this time his forces had so diminished that he must have realized the hopelessness of the enterprise.

  He surrendered and was sent to the Tower.

  I lay in my bed, realizing how much I wanted to live. My future, which had seemed so bright before me, was now filled with terror. There was one thing I dreaded above all else and that was to become a prisoner in the Tower of London. Death did not appall me half as much. Death came swiftly and brought an end to tribulations on Earth, but to become one of the prisoners of the Tower with death hanging over one uncertainly, on and on… day after day… year after year… never to be free… and in time forgotten—that was the most terrible fate of all. It had happened to so many, and especially to those who, like myself, were of royal blood.

  I knew I was in greater danger than I had ever been when a party arrived at Ashridge led by Lord William Howard, Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallis, and to my intense dismay with them came two of the Queen's physicians, Dr Owen and Dr Wendy, whose purpose it was to decide whether I was fit to travel.

  It was late at night when they arrived. Kat hastened to my bedchamber to inform me.

  “Oh, Kat!” I cried. “What next? I thank God the hour is so late and I shall have the night in which to prepare my answers.”

  But almost immediately there was a knock at the door, and an usher entered to say that the lords and doctors would have speech with me.

  “It is too late tonight,” I said. “I will see them in the morning.”

  But they would not accept this. They were outside the door demanding admission in the Queen's name.

  I was angry as they entered the room. I lay back in my bed gasping with fury. “Is the haste such that it might not have pleased you to come in the morning?” I demanded.

  They did not answer but said they were sorry to see me in such a low state of health.

  “And I am not glad to see you at this time of the night,” I retorted.

  I was relieved that my great-uncle Lord William Howard was a member of the party. Surely he must feel a tenderness for his own flesh and blood.

  Dr Wendy came forward. He took my hand and looked at me intently. He was a very clever doctor and I hoped he would not diagnose my illness as fear. On the other hand I remembered his treatment of Katharine Parr when she had been distraught as I was now. He had warned her how to act and had probably saved her life.

  They did retire then, saying they would visit me in the morning when the doctors, on the Queen's orders, would decide whether I was fit to travel.

  What a night that was! There was no sleep for me. Kat lay with me and we clung to each other. I wondered whether it was the last time
we should be together.

  In the morning I learned my fate.

  Both doctors said that although I was suffering from acute disability and was certainly unfit to travel on horseback, there was no reason why I should not go by litter, and guessing this might be the case, the Queen had sent her royal litter for my use.

  I knew then that there was no escape.

  Just as we were setting out I heard that Lady Jane Grey and her husband Guildford Dudley had been sentenced to death. I supposed that was inevitable now and no doubt men such as Gardiner and Renaud were pointing out to the Queen the folly of showing mercy to dangerous men and women.

  Nature came to my aid and I really was ill. There is nothing like anxiety of the mind to impair the body. It responds to the call of the mind—and this was certainly the case with me. During the journey I was half fainting most of the time, but when we came close to London I aroused myself. I was very eager that the people should keep their regard for me. I ordered that the curtains of the litter be drawn back so that they could see me; and there I sat under their scrutiny—pale but proud—and I tried not to show a trace of the fear I was feeling.

  There were no cheers that day. How could they cheer one who was being taken to London, virtually a prisoner accused of treachery against the Queen? But all the same not a voice was raised against me, and I saw the compassion in their faces and knew that they wished me well.

  Much good that would do me now. I was caught and it was going to be difficult to prove to Mary that I had taken no part in Wyatt's rebellion.

  The very day that I entered London, Jane Grey laid her head on the block. Poor child, she had asked for nothing but the peace and contentment of her books and the companionship of those she loved. Now her innocent blood had been shed. Whose would be next? Was I not more menacing to the Queen than Jane was? I was not entirely without guile. I had dreams such as I was sure Jane had never had. Yet she had gone to the scaffold.