Beware, Princess Elizabeth Part 4

CHAPTER 7.

Two Queens Poor Jane! She was a brilliant scholar, but she was completely innocent in the ways of the world. Unaware of the scheming and subterfuge that surrounded her, she simply did as she was told.

Soon after her wedding Jane became unwell. She wrote to a frienda"Lady Let.i.tia claimed to have seen the lettera"that she believed her mother-in-law was trying to poison her. Apparently Jane had no knowledge of the Device for the Succession, or she would have known that she was far too valuable to be murdered.

On the fourth of July, I lay ill with a fever, perhaps brought on by the news delivered by Sir William. I had told no one save Kat of the Device, but it preyed on my mind. In this frail condition I received a message from John Dudley: "His Majesty, the king, is near death. It is feared that he will not live out the week."

Numb and trembling, I called for Kat. "Edward is dying," I said tearfully. "What shall I do?"

"Wait," she advised. "You are too ill to travel, Elizabeth. Even if you were strong enough to leave at once, there is little prospect that you would arrive in time to see your dear brother alive. And," she added ominously, "this may well be a trap."

Of course! The fever had interfered with my thinking. Dudley might indeed be planning to lure my sister and me to London to make sure we were unable to interfere with his plans.

I accepted Kat's advice. I dispatched a message to my sister at her manor house in Hunsdon to inform her of my decision, but the messenger returned with word that Marya"usually wary of trapsa"had already left for Greenwich.

My brother, the king, died on Thursday, the sixth of July anno Domini 1553. As with the death of my father, news of his pa.s.sing was suppressed for three daysa"not an easy task, given that the corpse had begun to rot in the summer heat. On Sunday, the ninth of July, a messenger in black crepe brought me official news of the death. I expected the news, but I had learned years earlier that even when death is antic.i.p.ated, its reality and its finality still come as a shock.

In the days following Edward's death, events unfolded of which I had no knowledge at the time. Only later, when Sir William Cecil visited me at Hatfield, was I able to piece together what had happened. By then I was recovered from my fever and felt quite well again. I called for a refreshing drink to be brought to the knot garden while Sir William described to me the events of the past fortnight.

On the ninth of July, Lady Jane was taken to Syon House, one of the royal palaces, where her father-in-law knelt and solemnly informed her of the death of the king and of her succession. At this the entire companya"including her hated mother-in-lawa"bowed down before her.

"Jane appeared stunned by this news," Cecil reported, "and she collapsed in a swoon. When she regained her senses, she burst into weeping and lamenting the death of the king. Then she told those around her in ringing tonesa"she has a remarkably strong voice for such a small persona"that she did not want the crown. 'It pleases me not,' she said with great conviction. 'The lady Mary is the rightful heir.'"

"Poor Jane," I murmured. "She really did not want this."

But Dudley, with Jane's parents echoing his words, told her that she had nothing to say about it. "The king has willed it," said Dudley, "as G.o.d has willed it. You have no choice but to obey."

At last, Jane unhappily accepted. Hushed crowds gathered along the Thames to stare as the royal barge carried Jane and her retinue downriver to the Tower. Cecil supplied me with all of the details, even down to her chopines, high wooden clogs strapped to her shoes to make her appear taller. Jane climbed clumsily up the stairs from the barge and tottered to the Tower and the royal apartments. She was told that she must stay there until her coronation.

"And when is that to be?" Jane asked.

"You will be informed when the time comes" was the reply.

When heralds were dispatched to proclaim the word throughout London that Jane Dudley was queen and Mary Tudor a b.a.s.t.a.r.d unfit to rule, there was no rejoicing. The announcement was greeted by the people with silence.

I listened attentively to all of this, outwardly calm and controlled. Inwardly, though, my head throbbed and my nerves were unstrung. "But where was Mary?" I asked Cecil hoa.r.s.ely. "What of my sister?"

"While all of this was happening, Mary was en route to Greenwich. Along the way she encountered a messenger who warned her of danger. Robin Dudley was preparing to leave London with three hundred guardsmen to capture Mary and take her prisoner."

"My old friend Robin Dudley!" I felt my temper flare. "His deceitful father's deceitful son after all!"

"So it seems," Cecil said dryly. "But Lady Mary heeded the warning and immediately changed her plans. With only two ladies-in-waiting and a half dozen gentlemen, she fled through the night on horseback in the opposite direction.

"The next daya"it was now the tenth of Julya"John Dudley informed Queen Jane that she must make her husband, Guildford, the king. Only twenty-four hours had pa.s.sed, but by then she would have understood that John Dudley never intended for her to rule.

"Jane called together some of the privy councillors and told us, 'If the crown truly belongs to me, then I shall make my husband a duke. But I will not consent to make him king.'"

"She has more courage than I suspected."

"Jane has great courage," Cecil agreed. "This insolence was too much for her mother-in-law. Her fury barely contained, the d.u.c.h.ess turned to Guildford and hissed, 'If she is stubborn, then you shall be just as stubborn. You must refuse to share a bed with this shrew you call wife!' Then the d.u.c.h.ess stormed out of the room, with Guildford obediently following at her heels.

"That night we of the privy council received a letter from Mary, declaring her right to the throne. Robin Dudley had not been able to capture her after all! Lady Mary had arrived at Kenninghall, near Cambridge; she was free, and she was determined to be queen."

"Go on, go on!" I said, impatiently pacing the formal pattern of the knot garden.

"When John Dudley learned that powerful n.o.blemen and common people alike were flocking to Mary's support, he prepared to fight. He a.s.sembled three thousand men at the Tower, armed with crossbows and pikes as well as cannons and gunpowder. He led his troops north toward Cambridge, boasting, 'I will put a quick end to Lady Mary's defiance.' But John Dudley forgot one thing: Mary is much loved, and nearly everyone hates him. Now, when he needed it most, the duke had no one he could trust."

"Good, good, good!" I cried.

"Hearing that John Dudley was on his way, Lady Mary left Cambridge and rode hard for East Anglia. Her castle at Framlingham is fortified with walls eight feet thick and forty feet high and watchtowers looking out to sea. As the news spread, people began to rally to her cause. Day after day they arrived, bringing whatever horses and arms they could muster, or sending carts of food and supplies. My messengers, quite breathless with the magnitude of it, reported to me that Lady Mary had somehow raised an army of twenty thousand! One after another the towns in the area proclaimed Mary as their queen."

"But what of John Dudley?" I asked.

"Things went badly for the duke. He had ordered seven warships to guard the coast to prevent Mary's escape, but the sailors mutinied. The next day two thousand seamen arrived at Mary's camp hauling a hundred enormous cannons from the ships.

"Imagine how uneasy the privy councillors felt! Most had sworn loyalty to Dudley. When it appeared that Lady Mary might win after all, and knowing it would not go well for them if she did, they swung against Dudley. On the nineteenth every one of the councillors appeared in the public square and declared Mary our queen. Shortly thereafter, John Dudley gave up.

"There is nothing in memory equal to the celebration that began as soon as your sister was proclaimed," Cecil was saying. "The bells were ringing when I left, and may still be ringing, for all I know. The din was terrific! Men tossed their caps into the air and cheered, and women wept for joy. The jubilant throngs were preparing to feast and dance and sing all night."

So my sister was now queen. And because she had triumphed I was next! This was the moment, standing in the knot garden, when I realized that someday I, too, would become queen of England. How I savored that moment! As I listened to Cecil's description, I saw myself in Mary's place, the bells ringing, the crowds cheering. Someday...

"The scene must have been quite different at the Tower of London," I observed, bringing myself back to the moment.

Sir William stroked his close-trimmed beard. "Ah, poor little Queen Jane," he sighed. "There she sat, pale as death, waiting with her father for the outcome. When Lord Grey learned that all of the councillors had turned against Dudley, he rushed out and made a great show of proclaiming Mary the queen. Then he returned to the royal apartments and tore down the cloth of estate that had been hung above his daughter's chair and ordered her to remove her royal robes. She was queen for just nine days."

"What will happen to her now?" I asked, imagining myself in Jane's stead, both relieved and frightened, in equal parts.

"She will be locked up in the Tower, along with her husband," said Sir William. "But I cannot imagine that Queen Mary will be anything other than forgiving. Lady Jane has no fault in this."

I said nothing, silently praying that he was right.

Sir William drained his cup and begged my leave. He was on his way to Framlingham Castle to pledge his loyalty to Queen Mary. "I suspect that many from the privy council will be there, humbly begging her pardon, on their knees in the hope of saving their necks."

I asked him to tarry long enough for me to send a letter with him for Mary, offering my sister my congratulations at the same time that I expressed my sorrow at the death of our brother. But even as I wrote, somewhere in my mind the thought lingered, Someday it will be my turn.

WHEN ALL THE rebels had been rounded up and hauled off to cells in the Tower, Mary set out from Framlingham with an escort of several thousand men. With great excitement I rode out to meet the new queen, accompanied by my own retinue of a thousand knights, gentlemen, and ladies-in-waiting. As Mary approached I climbed down from my horse and knelt in the dusty road. When she saw me, Mary immediately dismounted and raised me up.

I had not seen my sister for five years, and I believe we were each surprised by the appearance of the other. Mary was thirty-seven, an aging woman, while I was not yet twenty. For a moment we stared at each other, and then Mary kissed me. After she had embraced me, the queen went to the gentlewomen in my retinue and embraced each one.

As I watched Mary I did wonder if she saw me as a rival. I wished I could rea.s.sure her that she had nothing to fear from me. In the natural course of events, my turn would inevitably come. I would not challenge her. I had only to wait.

Together we rode side by side toward London, banners fluttering and horns blaring fanfares. Outside the city the great procession halted so that Mary could change out of her dusty clothing.

Queen Mary entered the capital dressed in a gown of purple velvet over a petticoat of purple satin st.i.tched with goldwork and pearls. More gems ornamented her velvet sleeves and headdress, and the baldric she wore draped across her chest. Even her horse was gorgeously arrayed, trapped in embroidered cloth of gold. The train of Mary's gown was so long and so heavy that it had to be carried on the shoulder of one of the gentlemen of her household.

I had never seen such a public outpouring of affection, and I was excited and proud to be in a place of honor on that day of my sister's triumph. A tide of loving emotion swept over us as we slowly followed her through the city, stopping often to listen to choirs singing songs of praise. As we neared the Tower, cannons thundered so loudly that the ground shook and windowpanes shattered. At last Queen Mary entered the royal apartments so recently vacated by Queen Jane, now kept prisoner in another part of the Tower.

On the first of October in 1553, wearing a crimson robe trimmed with ermine over my gown of white and silver, I carried my sister's train at her coronation. The pomp and ceremony exceeded even that of Edward's coronation, for the new queen had a flair for pageantry. After a ceremony lasting seven hours, I was the first to take the oath of allegiance to Queen Mary. At the banquet that followed at Westminster Hall, I was seated next to my sister. Thousands of dishes had been prepared for the feast, but the queen ate only the wild boar. These exhilarating days were a time of joy and celebration for everyonea"everyone save those shut up in the Tower.

I, too, rejoiced: I shall be the next queen of England! I shall be the next to wear the crown!

CHAPTER 8.

Queen Mary After her coronation Mary moved from her country manor into Whitehall Palace. Soon thereafter she invited me to join her at court. After all those months in the country, I was happy to take up residence in London. I settled into Somerset House, the city mansion I had acquired after the execution of its former owner, Edward Seymour, duke of Somerset. I had traded another property for this great mansion, which was much to my tastea"a combination of cla.s.sic simplicity and elegance. It was also close to Whitehall.

One afternoon the queen's messenger delivered a note. I broke the royal seal. Dearest Sister, the note began. We beg you to sup with us this day. We have much to discuss with you. It was signed Maria Reginaa"Mary the Queen.

I understood that she was using the royal we. And I wondered what it was we wanted to discuss. While the messenger waited, I penned a quick reply, a.s.suring Her Majesty of my great pleasure, and so on and so forth.

I was in a fine mood as I prepared to take supper with the queen. Kat Ashley watched as my maids dressed me in a black velvet gown with French sleeves over a white damask petticoat. Kat was no longer with me as a governessa"I was now twentya"but I relied on her as I always had for her companionship.

"No jewels, madam?" asked Kat, who was always urging me to wear one of the finely wrought pieces left me by my father. "The diamond-and-ruby necklace would be splendid with that gown."

"No jewels," I said firmly, still feeling that a plain form of dress suited me best. Instead, around my waist I clasped a simple gold chain from which hung a girdle book, a miniature prayer book bound in gold. It had been a gift from my brother, and I treasured it. Then I called for Lady Marian and Lady Cynthia to accompany me and two gentlemen to ride with us to Whitehall Palace.

Ushered into the queen's privy chamber, I dropped three times to one knee (Mary didn't require this be done five times, as Edward had) as I approached her chair. After we had exchanged the usual greetings, Queen Mary invited me to be seated on a low stool, my ladies on silken cushions with her ladies. Then she called for wine to be brought.

I had scarcely taken the first sip from the golden goblet when Mary looked at me steadily and said in her deep, resonant voice, "And are you hearing Ma.s.s regularly, Elizabeth?"

"I attend those services that it so pleases G.o.d for me to attend," I replied with care, "and I am down on my knees in our Lord's presence at every opportunity."

She knew the answer to her question before she asked it, and I knew that my evasive words didn't please her.

"We are sure you know, my lady Elizabeth, that we intend to restore the old religion as quickly as possible."

King Henry had banned the Catholic Church, and now Queen Mary made it plain that she intended to bring back the Roman Catholic faith to England. I didn't see how Mary had the right to undo everything our father and brother had done.

"But, Your Majesty," I replied, perhaps too hastily, "your first official announcement granted your subjects the freedom to worship as they choose."

The queen peered at me, head c.o.c.ked to one side. "To show our good intentions, did we not order two funerals to be held for our dear brother, a Protestant service at Westminster Abbey, and a requiem Ma.s.s at the White Tower?"

"Yes, madam," I said. I did not add that I had naively a.s.sumed she meant to permit the two faiths to exist side by side for a much longer time.

Mary gazed at me with glittering eyes. "Now, who better to a.s.sist in making the changea"the necessary changea"than the queen's own sister?"

"Yes, madam," I repeated meekly. I saw that it was uselessa"even dangerousa"to argue.

"Good," said the queen. "Half a dozen Ma.s.ses are said daily in our chapel royal. Every one of our privy councillors attends. We expect that you will attend as well, Elizabeth."

"Yes, madam."

"And stop wearing that foolish prayer book you have hanging at your waist," she said irritably.

"As Your Majesty wishes," I said. What else is there to say to the queen? One may disagree, but one obeys. Or gives the impression of obedience. Oh, to be queen and have such power! I thought.

Then Mary presented me with a gift, a rosary with beads of red and white coral, and proceeded with our suppera"stew made of wild boar, of which I am not overfond but that was apparently my sister's favorite dish.

Throughout the meal we were entertained by the antics of Jane the Fool. She was dressed as a lady of the court in silks and satins, but for her shoes and stockings, which were those of a clown. With her shaved head and odd costume, Jane looked absurd.

To my great relief the evening ended early. I could hardly wait to get away from my sister.

"We shall be attending Ma.s.s," I told my ladies as we rode back to Somerset House. "Every morning, every evening, and sometimes in between."

"Yes, madam," they murmured.

"If you do not know how to say a rosary," I said, "then you had better learn."

KAT WAS ANXIOUSLY pacing my bedchamber. I removed my girdle book, kissed it in memory of Edward, and handed it to her. "I am forbidden to wear this," I told her.

As my maids undressed me, I described the conversation with the queen.

"It is no small thing that she requires of you," Kat said, "but you can in your heart make it seem but a small thing. For your own safety and good."

And so, with a great show of piety, I presented myself twice each day at Ma.s.s at one of the chapels royal, where I would be publicly observed and my presence quickly reported to Mary, if she happened not to be there. I carried the rosary she had given me and murmured my prayers over the beads as I counted them one by one. I fixed my eyes upon the jeweled crosses that had been placed once more upon the altars, along with the gold candlesticks and chalices set with precious gems, now brought out of those secret places where they had been hidden during Edward's reign.

I went to Ma.s.s only because I was forced to. When I found an excusea"a headache, a stomach pain, a touch of cholera"I did not attend. My ladies-in-waiting were instructed to make known to Mary's ladies-in-waiting that I suffered from an indisposition of some sort.

I tried to give the appearance of conforming to the queen's doctrines, but I still believed as I had always believed. Mary was not deceived. It was the loyal Sir William Cecil who warned me: "The queen knows well enough that your behavior is a pretense, and the sham infuriates her. She makes no secret of her dislike of you and speaks of it openly, as do the visitors to her court. You are referred to as 'the heretic sister.'"

"And what of you, Sir William?" I retorted. "Are you not a heretic as well?"

"I am not a Catholic, that is true. And I am no longer a member of the privy council, although I have placed myself at the queen's service. But I do not challenge her rule. You do, madam." As we parted Cecil bowed low. "Spies are all around you," he murmured. "Take care."

The queen and I continued to treat each other with icy civility. We were both good actors, but I was bettera"I had to be.

When the queen called her first Parliament, she demanded that her mother's marriage to our father be declared lawful. This officially removed the stain of b.a.s.t.a.r.dy from Mary. But she had no intention of doing the same favor for my mother and me. If she had her way, I would remain a b.a.s.t.a.r.d all my life.

I HAD JUST returned from Ma.s.s early one morning when one of my young pages announced a visitor. "Edward Courtenay, earl of Devon," piped the boy. Lady Cynthia and Lady Let.i.tia glanced up, surprised at a caller's coming at such an hour.

The words were scarcely out of the page's mouth than the earl pranced into my chambers, without waiting for permission or invitation. He was foppishly dressed in brown velvet trunk hose slashed to reveal yellow satin. A great many pearls were st.i.tched to his velvet doublet, and a yellow feather drooped from his cap. "Good morrow, Lady Elizabeth," he said, as though we had known each other all our lives and were on familiar terms. He did not doff his cap, nor did he bow as deeply as he should have.