Beware, Princess Elizabeth Part 12

IN SEPTEMBER I observed my twenty-fifth birthday. As the months pa.s.sed, Mary's condition worsened. Unless I made a serious mistake to trigger her anger or Mary succ.u.mbed to total madness, I now believed that I would soon become queen. I thought of little else.

I spent many hours considering who would a.s.sist me in the enormous task that lay ahead. Yet, even as death approached, my sister refused to name me as her successor. I was still her enemy, as I had been for twenty-five years.

The queen yielded, touchingly, on one issue: She finally granted her dear Jane Dormer permission to marry her sweetheart, the count of Feria. Mary's only regret, she said, was that she would not live to see the wedding.

And, as though to hold death at bay, Queen Mary continued her struggle to rid the kingdom of heretics. The last five would burn at the stake early in November.

THE ROAD TO Hatfield was clogged with visitors. I received them, I listened, but I said little. I did not wish to reveal the anxiety I felt, lest it be seen as weakness. The goal that had seemed so far away was now within reach. I was ready. And yet, whenever I allowed myself to consider the huge weight about to fall upon my shoulders, I felt cold with apprehension. I spent many hours in prayer, as fervent as those I had uttered when I was in fear for my life.

For the five years since Queen Mary's coronation, when I knew that by rights I was next in line for the throne, I had thought dailya"hourly!a"of what it would mean to be queen. For the five years of her reign, all my efforts had been to survive her jealousy and hatred of me. Now, as the queen's life slowly ebbed away, I became less afraid for my own life. Now my greatest fear was for England.

It was in the course of long conversations with Sir William Cecil that I began to grasp fully the problems facing the kingdoma"and me, her future queen. The aftermath of the burnings, the Catholics who dreaded a Protestant on the throne. The depleted treasury, the money squandered on the war with France, the loss of Calais. The years of poor harvests, and the resulting famine and poverty that had reached every corner of the kingdom. The councillors who thought a woman unfit to rulea"even Cecil had no faith in my ability to govern.

"You must marry as soon as possible, madam," he said.

"Hear me well, Sir William," I told him, "for I shall not say this to you again: I shall not marry."

Sir Cecil merely bowed and made no reply.

Among those who called upon me was Robin Dudley. The years had, if anything, improved his dark good looks. I received him in the privy garden. We exchanged pleasantries, and I asked after the health of his wife, Amy Dudley.

"She is well, madam." Then he took my hand and kissed it. "I swear my loyalty to you, my lady Elizabeth," he said. "I have much to say to you. Come, let us walk together."

We left the privy garden by way of the lime walk, strolling past the knot garden and away from the palace. The trees were bright with autumn foliage, the late roses still in bloom. At length we reached the ancient oak some distance from the palace where I often came to read and to think. I seated myself upon a stone bench and waited to hear what Robin had to say.

"Madam, although you have no rivals, you have many enemies. Until now you have spent your life enduring the enmity of your sister. That battle will soon end. But in truth you have only begun the fight." Robin stepped closer, so that he was gazing directly into my eyes. "If you wish to survive, you must force your advisers to obey you. The common people need no persuasiona"you are the daughter of their beloved King Henry the Eighth. But you must show the n.o.bility that you are able to rule them."

Suddenly Robin Dudley dropped to his knees, his cap in his hands. "I pledge myself to fight for your throne, madam," he said. "I am your servant unto death."

"I much prefer your loyalty in life, Robin," I said. "Can you promise me that?"

"With all my heart."

Our eyes remain locked. "And you, Robin," I asked him, curious to hear his reply, "think you I must marry in order to rule?"

"No, Elizabeth," he said quietly. "You are everything that England needs."

AT LAST CAME the visitor I had been waiting for. Jane Dormer arrived with a large retinue dressed in the queen's livery. Now that Jane was in love, some of the hardness around her mouth had softened, but still she made no attempt to conceal her dislike for me.

"Her Majesty, Queen Mary, has sent me to you with this token," she said, presenting me with a heavy gold ring.

I held the ring in the palm of my hand, feeling its weight. "And what does this ring signify?" I asked.

"The queen has named you her successor." Jane halted to collect herself.

So she has done it after all! I exulted silently.

"The queen begs that you maintain the old religion, take care of her servants, and pay her debts," Jane continued when she was able, "and she desires your promise that you will do these things."

Maintain the old religion? Surely Mary knew better, and just as surely Jane did, too. Nevertheless, I knelt beside Jane. "I do solemnly promise that I will carry out the queen's wishes in all things," I said. With this one last lie to my sister, I slipped Mary's gold ring on my thumb.

TODAY THERE IS a damp chill in the air. I was seated again by the ancient oak where Robin Dudley had pledged me his loyalty when I saw a group of men making their way toward me. Among them were Sir William Paget and the earl of Arundel, dressed in mourning. I rose to greet them.

"The queen is dead," said the men in voices rough with feeling. "Long live the queen!"

The moment had arrived. My sister was dead, no longer my enemy. I had survived this first great challenge. Yet, as long as I had prepared for this moment, expected it, feared it, and desired it, I was overwhelmed with emotion. I fell to my knees and recited in Latin the first words that came to my mind, the words of the psalmist: This is the Lord's doing; it is marvelous in our eyes!

Today I am Elizabeth, queen of England.

Historical Note

QUEEN MARY was buried on the fourteenth of December, 1558, in Westminster Abbey with the full rites of the Roman Catholic Church. On the fifteenth of January, a date selected by her astrologer, Dr. Dee, Mary's hated sister, Elizabeth, was crowned queen, beginning a reign that would last for forty-five years. It became one of the most remarkable periods in English history.

During Elizabeth's reign England flourished. The Protestant Church of England was firmly reestablished, English ships decisively defeated the Spanish Armada, Francis Drake and Walter Raleigh explored and colonized the New World, and William Shakespeare created some of the most brilliant works of literature in the English language.

Vain and ruthless, headstrong and witty, beautiful and hot tempered, Queen Elizabeth never married. There were rumors of love affairs, one with Robin Dudley, who served Elizabeth as master of the horse. Robin's wife, Amy, died under questionable circ.u.mstances, and once again Elizabeth found herself under a cloud of suspicion. When Elizabeth did not marry Robin Dudley, he began a romance with Lettice Knollys, the beautiful young daughter of Elizabeth's cousin Catherine.

Queen Elizabeth died on the twenty-third of March, 1603, at the age of sixty-nine. Like her sister, Queen Elizabeth delayed naming her successor until the last moment. She left the crown to James, son of Mary, Queen of Scots, Elizabeth's cousin. Mary had been the one serious threat to Elizabeth's throne, and Elizabeth had reluctantly put her cousin to death in 1587.

Elizabeth I is buried beside her sister, Mary, in a tomb built for them by the new king, James I, in the Henry VII Chapel in Westminster Abbey. The two sisters and queens share this epitaph: Consorts both in throne and grave,

here rest we two sisters,

Elizabeth and Mary,

in the hope of one resurrection.

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At first it seems like a terrible mistake. Even when her father has a public and humiliating affair with a bewitching woman, Mary remains hopeful. But when he abandons her mother, then marries his mistress and has a child with her, Mary begins to lose faith. And now, dressed in rags, she is summoned back to the palace to be a serving maid to her new baby stepsister.

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THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME in the palace in nearly five years. It was a shock to realize how far I had fallen! Five years earlier I had still been Princess of Wales, still accorded all the honor and privilege of my rank. Now I was nothing, n.o.body, no better than a servant myself. I had not been invited because I was wanted but because tradition required it. And it was an opportunity for Queen Anne to show her power over me.

When we arrived my ladies and I were given poorly furnished chambers in a remote part of the palace that I had never seen before. I was hungry but had no chance to send for some bread and ale because I was summoned to the queen's chambers.

"I shall call upon Lady Anne when I've had a chance to refresh myself," I told the messenger.

"Her Majesty the queen commands you to pay your respects at once," the servant insisted.

I followed the servant to the queen's chamber of presence.

Since the beginning of her eighth month of pregnancy, Anne had been required to stay in these chambers with a few waiting women whose unhappy duty it was to keep her entertained. Tapestries and hangings covered every window and even the ceiling; the chamber was oppressively dark and stifling. Anne reclined awkwardly on a couch piled with silk pillows. Behind her a pair of wide oak doors opened to an inner chamber, similarly draped and darkened. In the midst of that second room stood a magnificent bed. I recognized it at oncea"it was my mother's bed, given her by my father at the time of my birth. Now it would become the bed of estate where the next royal birth would take place. My mother's bed! How dare Anne? How dare my father! From the looks of Anne, bloated and sallow, the birth was imminent.

"So," Anne said in a shrill voice, "Lady Mary has arrived."

I stood stock still. Lady Mary! Not "Princess Mary" or at the very least "madam," but a t.i.tle that was no t.i.tle at all, as though I were the daughter of the lowest, most impoverished baron instead of the daughter of the king of England.

Anne's onyx black eyes glittered in her pallid face. "Have you no manners?" she demanded. "Then we shall have to teach you some! Kneel!"

I hesitated. This was the first time Anne and I had come face-to-face, the first time Anne had spoken to me directly since the night of my now-abandoned betrothal to the French king. I had been only a child of nine then and had understood nothing.

Slowly I sank to my knees.

Anne glared at me. "I have only contempt for you, Mistress Mary. You and your wretched, scheming mother. You are nothing but a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, you knowa"a mistake! The king's mistake. But now the king has corrected his error. His one true heir lies here, with me"a"she stroked her huge bellya""and within a matter of days the future king of England will be brought forth. And you shall be his servant. I think that will be a good lesson for you, changing his napkins and cleaning up his messes. It will teach you your place in the world."

"And if it is a daughter, madam?" I asked. Immediately I regretted my boldness. I knew it was a mistake as soon as the words had left my mouth.

A silver goblet that had stood on a table at Anne's side flew past my head and clattered to the floor. Red wine splashed everywhere. I scarcely blinked.

"It is a son! It is a son!" Anne screeched.

Doomed Queen Anne.

She risked everything to become queen.

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ONE MIDSUMMER EVENING as I supped in the maids' chambers, only half listening to their ceaseless chatter, a royal page appeared. The maids fell silent as the boy delivered to me a note. Written in French, it bade me come at once; it was signed Henricus Rexa"Henry the Kinga"and bore the king's seal.

He wanted me now. I had no opportunity to change my gown, arrange my hair, or do any of those things which a lady might wish to do in preparation for such an interview, no time to become unnerved by this new course I sensed my life was about to take.

I followed the young page, not to the king's privy chamber, as I had expected, but to an even more private chamber beyond it. King Henry sprawled at his ease behind an enormous table. It appeared that he had been playing draughts, for there was the black-and-red checkered board, but no sign of an opponent. The chamber was empty, save for the king and me.

I dropped to one knee, advanced, dropped a second and then a third time, reverencing the king as he required. "Your Majesty," I murmured, my eyes lowered modestly. This was the first time I had been alone with him. Slowly I raised my eyes and waited, my heart racing.

King Henry leaned toward me, his elbows on the table, his blue eyes lively, his smile winning. "Lady Anne." He breathed my name as though it were a sigh.

"Your Majesty," I said again, still kneeling. I allowed his gaze to wander over me from head to foot.

"You do please me greatly," said King Henry, and raised me up.

"It pleases me much to please you, your Majesty," I replied.

"Good," he said. "And would it please you just as much to be the king's mistress?" he asked, stroking his close-trimmed beard.

There was no mistaking his meaning, and I had long prepared myself for just such an invitation.

I also understood that, should I yield, I would immediately lose my advantage. I knew well what became of the king's former mistressesa"my sister, for one; Bessie Blount, for another: When he tired of them, as he always did, they were discarded and then married off to a willing courtier. I was certain that many ladies had been approached in this manner by the king; I doubted that any had either the desire or the will to refuse what he asked of her. Who would have dared?

I did.