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. It must have looked splendid, upholstered in cloth of gold, displaying his banner. I was apprehensive and prayed that the weather might be calm. My prayers were unanswered, and for a day and night the ship battled against the elements, which must have been a sore trial to Philip, who was wont to be sick at sea. Fortunately in due course the gale abated, and by the time they came into sight of Southampton, the sea was as calm as anyone could wish it to be. How glad he must have been to be on firm land—and, I hoped, to be brought nearer to me. It was a pity that our Admiral Lord William Howard should have offended him almost immediately. Howard, who prided himself on his bluff frankness, had made some jocular but slighting reference to the Spanish ships. I knew him well. He would have felt impelled to pierce Philip's dignity with what he would call good English humor. Philip would never understand that and would regard Howard's remarks as insulting. Then Sir Anthony Browne presented him with a white horse which I had sent as a gift. It was caparisoned in crimson velvet ornamented with gold. Philip said he would walk, at which Sir Anthony, who was a big man, lifted Philip, who was a small one, onto his horse; and although Sir Anthony kissed the stirrups as a gesture of deference, I cannot think Philip was pleased by the action. While we were all in a fever of impatience, Philip stayed at Southampton, for the rain fell heavily and incessantly, which made traveling difficult; while there he met members of the Council and the nobility who had been waiting for him. 304 I feared he was not getting a very good impression of my country; and people were already beginning to say that the rain was sent by God as an omen. Philip behaved with wonderful charm and astuteness. He must have been aware of the suspicions which were directed against him. I was delighted to hear that he told the Councillors that he had come to England not to enrich himself but because he had been called by divine goodness to be my husband. He wanted to live with me as a right, good and loving prince. He hoped they would accept this; and they had promised to be faithful and loyal to him. The more I heard of him, the more I loved him, and I rejoiced because soon we should meet. What was so delightful was that, after his first encounter with Lord William Howard, he made great efforts to establish a good relationship between them. They chatted together, and Philip did all he could to show an appreciation of Howard's jokes— which was noble of him, because they were not noted for their wit. He ordered that beer should be brought because he said that he wished, while he was in England, to adopt our customs. This greatly pleased everyone, and I was so happy that my bridegroom was making such efforts to be accepted by my people. I knew how stubborn they could be, but I did believe he was beginning to win them to his side. We were to meet at Winchester. The weather continued to be appalling. The rain was torrential. When Philip left Southampton, he had to borrow a hat and cloak to cover his magnificent apparel, but even this was not adequate to protect him, and he was obliged to stop on the way to change his garments. What he must have thought of our weather, I could not imagine. I hoped he did not notice the murmuring that it meant God disapproved. Poor Philip, how uncomfortable he must have felt to arrive in Winchester, his beautiful velvet garments splashed with mud and his bedraggled entourage soaked to the skin. Fortunately it was dusk when he arrived and, because of the weather, there were few to see him. He went to the church, and there it was a different story. People had crowded into the building more to get a glimpse of him than to thank God for his safe, if damp, arrival. After the service of thanksgiving, he went to the Dean's house close to the church. He was to stay there. I was in the Bishop's palace. I was waiting with great impatience. This was to be the most wonderful moment of my life so far. I was wildly excited, and I could not hide my state. Susan was beside me with some of my other favored ladies. I was aware of their anxious eyes on me. And then he came… escorted by a few of the Spanish nobles who had accompanied him. My heart leaped with joy at the sight of him. Small he undoubtedly was, and slight, but I had been warned of this, and it mattered not at all. He was wearing a doublet and trunks of spotless white kid. His surcoat was white and silver decorated with gold 305 and silver thread-work. His cap matched it, and in this was a long white feather. As he came toward me, I was conscious of his handsome looks, his youth, and I was filled with apprehension because I was eleven years older than he and doubtless looked it, particularly after all the trials of the last year. How did I look in my black velvet gown, my petticoat of frosted silver, my headdress of black velvet lined with gold? Was I too somber? Was he going to be disappointed in me? Never had I prayed so fervently that this might not be so. Now we stood face to face, smiling at each other. I kissed my own hand and took his. He was determined to follow our customs and kissed me on the mouth. I was so happy. I refused to think of my age and that I was not beautiful. I was the Queen, and this man was to be my husband. I led him to a canopy of state and sat down with him. He could not speak English, so I spoke in French, which he understood, and he replied in Spanish, of which I had learned a little from my mother. I told him how glad I was that he had arrived safely, and he said that he was happy to be here. I asked him to tell me about the crossing and his journey to Southampton. It was all trivial conversation for two people who were shortly to embark on what is surely the greatest adventure in life. All the time we talked we were studying each other. I was enchanted. I should have been in a state of ecstasy if I could have stopped myself wondering what effect I was having on him. He was so dignified. If he were disappointed, he would never betray the fact. He said that he must learn some English, for he felt greatly at a disadvantage. I understood how he felt, I said, and he would be surprised how quickly he would become familiar with our tongue. “I hope it will be so,” he said. “The people will expect that.” “I will teach you,” I told him. “Teach me what I shall say to the lords of the Council when I take my leave.” “That is simple. You could say, ‘Good night, my lords all.'” It was amusing to hear him struggling with the words. We smiled together, and I was happy. Then he said he would introduce me to his gentlemen, and I should do the same for him and my ladies. He called his party to come to us, and they were presented to me. I was immediately struck by Ruy Gomez da Silva, a most distinguished man who, I discovered later, was a very close friend of Philip. Then we turned to my ladies. Philip kissed them all. I was rather surprised but he said, “It is an English custom, is it not? I am determined to follow the English customs.” The ladies were flushed and smiling, liking the attention. And I smiled with them. 306 I was so happy that everything seemed wonderful. We parted and I returned to my apartments in the palace. Susan was with me. “What thought you of him?” I asked. She hesitated and I looked at her sharply. “He is handsome—as they said he was,” she replied. “You sound reluctant to admit it,” I said. “N…no. He is like his portrait.” “But what, Susan?” “He is a little solemn.” “It is a solemn occasion.” “But perhaps not so when he kissed the ladies.” I laughed. “Oh, he is trying to please us all by following what he thinks are our customs.” “The custom to kiss the ladies…” “He has an idea that we kiss, and he has to do it on every occasion.” “That is a custom of which you will have to cure him,” she said. “Susan, you are like the rest. You are critical of all those who are not English.” “Is that so, Your Majesty? Then if you say so…” I was a little put out because I had the feeling that she did not admire him as I thought she should. Later that day he called on me. It was dark; the candles had been lighted; he asked to be admitted to my presence, and I was delighted. How romantic, that he should come to me thus, unceremoniously. “I must speak with you,” he said. “It is why I have come.” “I am so happy that you did,” I told him. “I have just heard from my father. He is giving up the kingship of Naples, and it is to be mine. He does this because he thinks you should marry a king and not a mere prince.” “How delightful! How wonderful!” I took his hand and kissed it. “Your Majesty, I am happy for you.” Philip did not smile easily, I noticed, but he looked gratified. So I was betrothed not merely to the Prince of Spain but to the King of Naples as well. By this time a delegation had arrived at the palace; the Council assembled, and with them all the ladies and gentlemen of our households, while a declaration of the Emperor's donation to his son was read out. 307 The Council was pleased and agreed that it should be proclaimed in the cathedral next day when the marriage took place. It was a day to which I greatly looked forward but not without a certain trepidation. The rain had ceased. I looked out of the window. How fresh the earth smelt—how green were the grass and trees. I could catch the sweet scent of flowers below me. I was in love. Tomorrow would be my wedding day. I said to myself: This night there is none happier in this land than its Queen. IT WAS THE FEAST of St. James, which was appropriate, for St. James is the patron saint of Philip's country. The church in which the ceremony was to take place was magnificently decorated with scarlet and cloth of gold. I was at the church before Philip, having walked from the episcopal palace. I was wearing a gold-colored robe richly brocaded, trimmed with pearls and diamonds; my coif was decorated with two rows of diamonds; and the kirtle beneath my robe was of white satin with silver tracing. I wore the diamond on the chain which Philip had sent me, and my train was carried by Lady Margaret Douglas. When Philip arrived, I felt gloriously happy. He looked magnificent in garments which I myself had presented to him. They were quite magnificent, and I congratulated myself that I had chosen just what suited him; and he had the grace to wear them, which was a compliment to me. But how they became him! The trunk-hose were of white satin worked with silver; he wore a collar of gold, diamond studded, and at his knee was the Garter which had been bestowed on him as soon as he arrived in England. We took our seats in the two chairs which had been placed at the altar. Gardiner was waiting—with Bonner, the Bishop of London, and the Bishops of Durham, Lincoln, Ely and Chichester. Before the ceremony began, the Regent of Naples declared to the assembly that his Imperial Master, Charles V, had resigned from his kingdom of Naples that his beloved cousin Queen Mary might marry a king. Then we were married and when the ceremony was over seated ourselves in the chairs of state while the Mass was celebrated. EVERY DETAIL OF THAT wonderful day stays with me. My memories comfort me when I am most melancholy. I want to keep that day fresh in my mind, for I was never so happy as I was then. We went back to the Bishop's palace for a banquet. I do not remember what we ate. Philip and I sat side by side. I took covert glances at him, which was foolish of me because I should have known I would be closely watched and everything I did would be reported later. I did wish that my subjects would not be quite so zealous in stressing the point that I was the Queen of this realm and, important as Philip might be in his own country, here he was merely the Queen's consort. Why did they have to make his chair less fine than mine? Why should he be served from silver plate and I from gold? I was 308 fully aware of the cold looks of the Spaniards as they noticed these details. But I would not let that spoil my pleasure. When the toasts and expressions of good will toward us were over, Philip and I drank one to the guests; and after that we went to our presence chamber so that the English and Spanish might mingle. Language presented a problem. There was dancing but the Spanish ways were different from ours. I remembered how my father had distinguished himself as the finest of dancers because he could leap higher than anyone else. The Spaniards walked in stately fashion rather than danced, and we English did not call that dancing. I think they were a little taken aback by our cavorting and pirouetting. I had always been fond of dancing and was able somehow to match my steps to Philip's. I have to admit that, stately though he was, he was no great dancer. But I loved him the more for this failing. The festivities ended earlier than we had expected because of these differences in our speech and customs, and Philip and I were escorted to our separate apartments, where we dined. Afterward we met at the lodging where we were to spend our wedding night. We were taken there by members of the Council, and when they had conducted us to our bedchamber, they left us. So we were alone together. I was apprehensive, lest I should not please my husband; if I did not, he did not betray it. Never had I imagined such kindness and courtesy. I was ignorant of the ways of married people and had only shadowy notions of what was expected of me. Philip, I knew, was greatly experienced in these matters. He had been married before, and was already a father. But I was as romantic as a young girl. I had lived with dreams. I thought a great deal about our first encounter later, when he had gone. I wondered what was in his mind. One would never know with Philip. But I shall always remember his kindness to me, his patience with my ignorance. And I was able to say to myself on that night: This is love. 309 WHEN I AWOKE NEXT MORNING, IT WAS TO FIND THAT HE was no longer beside me. There was a great commotion outside the door. My women were talking loudly, protesting. I rose and went out to them. Several Spanish gentlemen of Philip's entourage were standing there, being held at bay by my valiant ladies. They were trying to explain that it was a breach of etiquette to call on a lady the morning after her wedding. I said, “I daresay it is a Spanish custom.” I would ask Philip when I saw him. I could not imagine where he could be. I wondered if I might ask him what induced him to rise so early. I had hoped to wake and find him beside me. But I did not ask him. One did not ask Philip such things. For all my love for him, I felt there was a barrier between us. But I did discover later that it was a Spanish custom for certain gentlemen to come into the bridal chamber after the wedding night in order to congratulate the married pair. I was learning that the customs of my husband's Court were very different from ours, but at that time I was amused by the differences and told myself how interesting it would be to learn each other's ways. I was surprised when I did not see Philip all that day. I was told that he was busy attending to dispatches he had received from his father. It was my duty to meet the wives of the gentlemen who had accompanied him, and I began with the Duchess of Alva. She was very elegant and rather alarmed me by her stately demeanor. But I was in love with all things Spanish. It was natural that I should be. I had Spanish blood in my veins. I remembered snatches of conversation I had shared with my mother years ago. She had been brought up in a Court which must have been very like that in which Philip had lived. I thought of how happy she would be if she could see me now. The Duchess and I got on very well after a while. I suppose she was as nervous of me as I was of her. I had gone to meet her, which surprised her because she had expected to find me seated, and she did not know how to greet me. She sank to her knees and tried to kiss my hand, but I put my arms round her and kissed her cheek. I meant to be warm and friendly but my manner seemed to disconcert her; however, after a while we were able to speak in a friendly fashion together. It was very difficult to break through the solemnity of the Spanish, and I could see that this was going to be a problem with Philip. I could never be sure what he was 310 thinking. He behaved with courtesy and gentleness toward me, yet he was never abandoned, never passionate. If I had not deluded myself, I could have feared that our marriage, our love-making, was to him a task, a duty which must be performed. Later I believed this was so, for when he had gone, people talked more freely of him, and I have to admit that whenever possible I urged them to do so. There came a time when I felt a certain masochistic pleasure in torturing myself, when I wanted to learn the truth about my marriage. Then I reminded myself that I was old and he was comparatively young… that I was to him a kind of maiden aunt. But for the time being I was blissfully happy. We left Winchester for London and crossed London Bridge at noon, surrounded by the nobility of Spain and England. We were greeted by the pageantry one grows accustomed to on such occasions; but what pleased the people most, I am sure, were the ninety-seven chests—each over a yard long—which contained the bullion Philip had brought with him. We came to Whitehall, where celebrations continued. These were, however, cut short by the death of the old Duke of Norfolk. I insisted that the Court go into mourning. Poor Norfolk! The last years of his life had been very melancholy. After narrowly escaping being beheaded by my father, he had been a prisoner all through the last reign; and when I had come to the throne, he had been released but his luck had not changed. He had led an inferior force against Wyatt and had suffered the humiliation of being defeated, which would be heartbreaking for a man of his caliber. So it seemed right to put on mourning for an old friend. At Windsor the ceremony of the Garter was officially performed, and I was happy to see Philip honored. I wanted to give him so much, which could seem only very little after all the happiness he had brought me. Susan used to watch my exuberance with a certain fearfulness. I know I behaved like a young girl in love; but, if I was not a young girl, I was certainly in love, and older people's feelings can be so much stronger than those of the young, particularly when happiness comes to them late in life after much tribulation. I wanted Philip to have a coronation. So did Renard, who came to see me about the matter and to stress what a good thing it would be. “He would take so much of the burden from your shoulders. You have too much to contend with. You must see that he is given the status here that he so richly deserves.” “I would willingly give it,” I said. “There is nothing I want more. I will speak to the Council.” I did. Gardiner said, “The people would never accept it.” “I am the Queen,” I reminded him. “I intend to rule as my father did.” “It was different in your father's day. It is not long since people flocked to Wyatt's 311 banner. There is your sister…” “I know you want to have her…removed… but I will not allow that. She is not concerned with this. I am sure the country would welcome a king to help in governing them.” “The time has not come…yet,” insisted Gardiner. It was a sort of compromise. Not yet, he said. He must mean that we should wait awhile. I had to admit that he was right, for after that first enthusiasm when we had our ceremonies and pageants, which people always enjoy, they began to display their dislike of foreigners in general and Spaniards in particular. It was said that there were more Spaniards than English in the streets of London. “England is for the English,” was their cry. “We want no aliens here.” Those who had come in Philip's train were rich, and that aroused the people's envy. Children called after them in the streets and threw stones at them. Quarrels were picked and there was frequent fighting. The Spaniards began to fear that it was unsafe to go out alone, for they were constantly being robbed. I was ashamed of my countrymen, but Philip remained calm and as courteous as ever; he would not give up his Spanish household and, as I had provided him with English servants, he kept the two, which must have been a great expense; but as he could not easily dismiss those I had found and would not give up those he had brought, he accepted the cost. I wished that we could have talked more openly together. I wished I had known what was in his mind. There were constant dispatches arriving from the Emperor. Philip would spend most of the day dealing with them. I saw very little of him except in company, and when we were alone in our bedchamber, very few words were spoken. It was in September when I believed I might be pregnant. I had suffered through my life from internal irregularities, so I could not be sure, but I had a certain exultant feeling within me. I felt blessed, and I said to myself: This is what the Virgin experienced when she was visited by the angel. This was what I had longed for. A child of my own! Everything I had endured… all my troubles… they were all worthwhile, if I could hold my own child in my arms. I was afraid to say anything. I was fearful that it might not be so. But it must be. Why else should I have this feeling of exultation? SEPTEMBER PASSED. EACH DAY I became more sure. I wanted to sing out to the housetops, “My soul doth magnify the Lord …I am to have a child…a child of my own. It will be a son. It must be a son.” Oh, what rejoicing there would be! If only the time would pass more quickly. When could I expect the birth? Next May perhaps? The child would be my firstborn. Who knew? There might be others… I could think of nothing but my child. Susan knew that something had happened. She waited for me to tell her. But I did not just yet, hard as it was to keep a secret. I was afraid that she would remind me of my weakness which had been with me all my life. 312 “Are you sure?” she would say. “Can Your Majesty be sure?” I could not bear that there should be a doubt; and she would doubt, I knew. She would say, like the rest: She is nearly forty years old. She is too old for childbearing. She has her weakness. It is a recurrence of that which we have known before. No! No! I argued with myself. This is different. I am no longer a virgin. I am a wife…a passionately loved wife. Passionately? Was Philip passionate? How could I know? What experience had I of passion? He seemed eager and loving. He did care for me. He did, I vehemently assured myself. At last I could not resist telling Philip. We had retired for the night and were alone together. I said to him, “Philip, I think it may be so…I believe it to be so…” He looked at me eagerly. “I believe I am with child,” I concluded. I saw the joy in his face, and my heart swelled with happiness. “You are sure…?” “Yes, yes…I think it may be so.” “When… when?” “I cannot be quite certain of that. Perhaps next May we may have our child.” I saw his lips moving, as though in prayer. A FEW WEEKS PASSED. I was terrified that I should be proved wrong; but so far I was not. I had told Susan now. She looked alarmed. “Why, Susan,” I said, “you should rejoice.” She replied, as I knew she would, “You are sure, Your Majesty?” “I am absolutely sure.” “May God guard Your Majesty,” she said fervently. I knew what she was thinking. I was old… too old… for childbearing. I was going to prove them wrong. I was not yet forty. Women had children at that age. I was small and slight—not built for the task of bringing children into the world. They would all have to change their minds. I would make them. I was faintly irritated with Susan. She did not share my pleasure. I would have reprimanded her but I knew it was out of her love for me that she was apprehensive. Philip said to me, “The French are plaguing my father. I should be there to help him.” A cold fear ran through me. “He will understand that you must be here,” I said. 313 “Oh yes… for a time.” “It is your home now, Philip.” He said a little coldly, “My home is in Spain. One day I shall be the King.” “That is far ahead, and now that we are married we must be together. The people would never allow me to leave this country.” He said nothing, but his lips were tight. I thought: Poor Philip. He is a little homesick. It is natural. Perhaps the Emperor would come and visit us or, mayhap, when the child was born, I could go with him… just for a brief visit. I knew that could never be. But I was in love and about to be a mother, so I allowed myself wild dreams. HAPPY AS I WAS, I thought often of my sister Elizabeth. She was a prisoner at Woodstock under the good, though stern, Sir Henry Bedingfield and I knew how that must have irked her. From Sir Henry I had learned of a plot to assassinate her. The suspicion came to me that it might have been hatched by Gardiner, who was always an enemy of hers, and I expect he feared what might happen to him if she came to the throne. According to Sir Henry, he had been called away and had left his brother in charge, giving him strict injunctions that Elizabeth must be watched day and night, not only because of what she herself might become involved in but because there might be those who wished to harm her. A man named Basset, with twenty men, had been found loitering in the gardens, with the obvious intent of doing some harm to my sister. Because of the strict vigilance, the conspiracy had been discovered and the plot failed. Although she caused me continual anxiety, I should hate any harm to come to her; so she continued to be in my thoughts. I had never understood her and was always uncertain as to whether or not she would plot against me. Whenever we were together, I felt nothing but affection for her. Perhaps I was guileless, but I believed she cherished sisterly feelings toward me. And these accusations which were brought against her? Were they true? I wished I knew. I wished I could trust her completely and that she could come to Court so that we might be as sisters should. I spoke to Philip about her. I said, “My sister is much on my mind. It is hurtful that she should be kept under restraint. After all, she is my sister. I want to see her. I want to ask her, face to face, how much truth there is in these rumors that she has supporters who would set her up in my place. If she has hopes …” My voice softened and I looked at him appealingly, “… they cannot remain…now.” I believe the Spaniards are brought up to hide their emotions. My mother had not been like that. Formal as she could be at times, she had always been warm and loving 314 with me. Perhaps it was not in Philip's nature to show emotion. He was preoccupied with the subject of Elizabeth. I had noticed that, whenever her name was mentioned, he became alert and gave his full attention to what was being said. “Bring her to Court,” he now advised. I smiled happily. “You think that would be a good idea? Gardiner is against it.” He lowered his eyes. “Bring her to Court,” he repeated. “Speak with her alone. Ask her… then judge.” I nodded. “I should like to see her married.” I smiled at him fondly. “Everyone should marry. It is the greatest happiness on Earth…as I have found.” A wry smile touched his lips. I told myself it meant that he agreed with me. I went on, “Emmanuel Philibert will be here for a few months. He would be a suitable match. It will be better when she is out of the country. While she is here, there will always be people to see her as a rallying-point. There are a great many heretics in the country, Philip, and they look to her.” “That will be remedied,” he said. “Send for her. It is the best.” He asked questions about her, and I told him how, when she had been born, she had been treated with great respect and, when her mother fell out of favor, how her fortunes drastically changed. “She has lived her life under the shadow of death,” I went on. “Many times she has come face to face with it.” I could not help thinking that at one time Philip and his father had been eager to see the end of her. Now he seemed to be more tolerant. I thought: Being in love makes one eager to see the whole world happy…even those who may be our enemies. “It will be different now,” I said, “because of the child. I believe that, before, she refused marriage because it would have meant her leaving the country.” “I see her point.” “But now everything has changed.” I smiled radiantly. I was so happy. Soon my child would be born; and if Elizabeth were married to Emmanuel, I could think of her with pleasure. We could exchange personal, sisterly letters, and everything would be as it should be. It was wonderful to be in agreement with Philip. How well he understood my feelings! Sir Henry Bedingfield brought Elizabeth up from Woodstock, and in due course she arrived at Hampton Court. Before I summoned her, I sent Gardiner to her. I told him that he must ask her to confess her fault and then I would consider her confession and perhaps forgive her. He came back to me and told me that his interview with the Princess had been unproductive. He said, “I told her that she must confess her fault. She replied that, rather than 315 confess to something she had not done, she was prepared to stay in prison for the rest of her life, for she had never committed any fault against Your Majesty in thought, word or deed, and that therefore she could crave no mercy at your hand, but rather desired herself to be judged by law. I told her that you marvelled at her boldness in refusing to confess— for in doing so she implied that Your Majesty had wrongfully imprisoned her.” “And what did she reply to that?” I asked. “She said, ‘She may, if it pleases Her Majesty, punish me as she thinketh good.' ‘Her Majesty says you must tell another tale ere you are set at liberty,' I told her, to which she replied she would as lief be in prison as abroad, suspected by the Queen. I said that she implied she had been wrongfully imprisoned, to which she answered that she spoke the truth, would cling to the truth and seek no advantage through lies.” I listened attentively. Philip wanted to know what had passed between Elizabeth and Gardiner and listened with great interest when I told him. I learned from one of the women who was in Elizabeth's household and who reported to me that which she thought would interest me that, after the interview with Gardiner, coupled with the fact that I had summoned her to Court, Elizabeth believed it meant that another charge would be brought against her, and she was sure her enemies were determined to put an end to her. She kissed her ladies fondly, saying it might be that they would never meet her again on Earth. I was very distressed that she should think this of me when what I wanted was to stop this suspicion between us, and for her to be at Court and that we should be as sisters. “I must see her,” I said to Philip. “I should be the one to question her… not Gardiner.” I was delighted that he agreed with me. “Summon her,” he said, “and while she is with you I will watch. I will be hidden behind a screen. I would hear what passes between you.” I thought it was wonderful for Philip to care so much for me and to understand my feelings for my sister far better than others did. So when Elizabeth was brought to me, Philip hid himself behind a screen placed so that, when Elizabeth stood before me, she would have her back to it. It meant that he could take occasional glimpses at her as well as hear every word that was spoken. It was ten o'clock at night when she came to me. I could see she was distraught and, having heard of her farewell to her women, I understood that she thought her end was in sight. I was immediately overcome with pity, remembering the bright child who was the delight and terror of Lady Bryan's life, and I felt a certain nostalgia for earlier days and wished that life could have been different for us all. She fell to her knees and, before I could speak, began professing her absolute loyalty; she swore by God and the Holy Virgin that she had never been engaged in any plots against me. 316 I tried to fight the sentiment in myself. She looked very attractive with her red hair falling about her shoulders. I tried to speak sternly. I said, “So, you will not confess your fault, but stand firmly on your truth. I pray that it may become manifest.” “If it is not,” she replied proudly, “I will look for neither favor nor pardon at Your Majesty's hands.” “You are so firm…so fervent in your protestations of innocence that you have been wrongfully accused…” She looked at me with a certain slyness. “I must not say so to Your Majesty,” she said. “But you will say so to others seemingly.” “No, Your Majesty. I have borne and must bear the burden. What I humbly beseech is Your Majesty's good opinion of me, as I am, and ever have been, Your Majesty's true subject.” “How can I be sure?” I murmured. Then she seized my hands and burst into a passionate appeal. I must understand, she said, that I was to her firstly a dear sister. She remembered my kindness to her when she was an outcast. That she would never forget. She wanted a chance to prove to me that I had never had a more devoted servant. In the great happiness which had come to me, she thought I and my noble husband would be kind to a poor prisoner who was loyal toward her sovereign and tender toward her sister. She was eloquent. She was, after all, fighting for her life. She believed at that time that I had brought her up from Woodstock with the purpose of sending her to her death. I was touched, and hurt that she could think this of me. I told her to rise and I embraced her. I said to her, “No more. Whether you are guilty or not, I forgive you.” I took a ring from my finger. It was a beautiful diamond. I had given it to her on my coronation, telling her that, if ever she was in trouble, she was to send it to me and if possible I would help her. It had come back to me at the time she was taken to the Tower, and I had kept it ever since. Now I gave it back to her. There was a radiance about her. She had come to me expecting to be sent to the Tower, and instead she had the pledge of my friendship. Her eyes were filled with tears. I was deeply touched, and suddenly she flung herself into my arms. “You are once more my sister,” she cried. “I have your love and I am happy again.” When she left me, Philip emerged from behind the screen. There was no doubt that he was greatly interested in Elizabeth. His eyes shone and he almost smiled. But it was not easy to know what he really thought of her. He said, “You did well. You acted with dignity and tolerance.” “And what did you think of my sister?” “I think that much of what I have heard of her is true.” 317 It seemed an evasive answer, but I was delighted with his approval. IT WAS ABOUT this time that I noticed one of my ladies behaving in a strange and almost secretive manner. This was Magdalen Dacre. She was outstandingly beautiful—perhaps the most beautiful of all my ladies. She was very tall and made dwarves of some of us, and she would have been remarkable because of her statuesque figure if for nothing else. Magdalen had all the virtues. She was religious and efficient. Perhaps some would say she was a little prim, but I liked her for that. I would not have wished to be surrounded by frivolous women. I noticed that she was absent on one or two occasions. I asked for her and was told she was resting. She seemed to need a good deal of rest. I wondered if she were unhappy about something. She was hardly ever present when Philip was there, but I noticed that when he was he treated her with great courtesy. He was courteous to all my ladies, but he did seem especially so toward Magdalen. I wondered mildly about her, and then I ceased to think of her for something very important was about to happen. I had not yet achieved my mission, which was to return England to Rome. It was too dangerous to do so at the moment. I did not want to plunge the country into civil war. At the same time I did feel that there should not be too much delay. The news from the Continent delighted me. Reginald Pole was coming home. He had been out of favor with the Emperor, for at one time he had made it clear that he opposed my marriage to Philip. I believed that his opposition was due to the fact that he thought I was too old for childbearing and that to attempt it would be dangerous to me. None wanted the return to Rome more than he did, but he believed it could be done without the marriage. I daresay the Emperor thought that, if he came to England, he would be my chief adviser, which was very likely, and I was not sure that the Emperor wanted that. Reginald would doubtless have returned to England earlier but for these considerations. After all, he was no longer an exile. He had left the country only because he upheld my right to the succession; now I was Queen the way was clear for his return. And now he was coming. It was November, and I was now certain of my pregnancy. I was wildly happy, and the thought of seeing Reginald after all these years added to my joy. He was not strong and had had to take the journey by easy stages. There should be a royal yacht at Calais to bring him to Dover. I was delighted to hear that he had arrived safely in England, and as he made the journey to Gravesend he was in the midst of an impressive cavalcade. At Gravesend the barge I had sent for him was waiting and, with his silver cross fixed on the prow, he sailed to Whitehall. Gardiner received him at the water's edge, and at the entrance of the palace Philip was waiting for him. I myself stood at the head of the stairs. 318 With what emotion we embraced! The years seemed to slip away, and I was young again, dreaming of him, telling myself that one day he would be my bridegroom. That was in the past. How old Reginald looked—yet handsome in an aesthetic way. He was frail, thin and of medium height, but he looked tall beside Philip. His hair and beard, which I remembered as light brown, were now white; but he still had the same gentle expression which I had loved. “Welcome home,” I said. “It is wonderful to see you. I know that, now you are come, all will soon be…as it should be.” He congratulated me on my marriage. I raised my eyebrows, reminding him that he had warned me against it. “I was wrong,” he said charmingly, reading my thoughts. “It has worked out in the best possible way. I am happy for you.” He meant it. I wonder if he remembered the plans to get us married, how my mother and his had planned when we were both much younger. But nothing had come of it, and he had gone on his way—indeed he had had no choice, for if he had stayed he would have gone to the block with most of his family. And now I had Philip—whom I would not have exchanged for any man in the world. It was wonderful to know that he was back, and perhaps even more so to realize what his coming meant, for he had come to help restore the Pope's supremacy in England which, I had convinced myself, was the reason why God had preserved my life and set me on the throne to work His will. Gardiner came up the stairs. He was to take Reginald to Lambeth Palace. MY PLEASURE IN SEEING Reginald was married by the change in him. He was still handsome, still noble, but I sensed a deep sadness, and there was in him a bitterness against my father. We met frequently and there were times when he and I were alone together. Then he talked of his family, all of whom—with the exception of Geoffry, who had tried and failed to take his own life and was now living abroad in exile—had been murdered. What affected him most was the death of his mother, who, he said, had been butchered on the scaffold. “My mother,” he said, “was a saint. She was the most pious of women who had never harmed a living soul… and to be murdered so.” I wept with him, remembering so much of my life with her. “But it is over, Reginald,” I said. “Life dealt harshly with you and yours, and we do no good by remembering.” He said, “I see myself as the son of a martyr, for such was my mother and I shall never forget her.” “The past is over,” I said. “Many died and your family among them. We cannot 319 bring them back. We have to think ahead. We have to continue with this great task which God has set us.” He was certainly zealous in that cause. Three days after his arrival, the two Houses of Parliament were assembled to hear Reginald speak. He told them he had come to restore the lost glory of the kingdom. A few days later Philip and I were presented with a petition from the two Houses to plead with the Legate to absolve the country from its schism and disobedience. We were moving toward our goal. High Mass was celebrated at St. Paul's. The Act restoring supremacy to the Pope had not yet been passed but it was on the way. There was a ceremony at St. Paul's at the end of November to celebrate my condition. It was very moving. The Virgin Mary was referred to, and the similarity of our names seemed significant. “Fear not, Mary,” the angel had said, “for thou hast found favor with God.” The fear meant that they were all remembering my age and the dangers of childbirth, even to the young and healthy. They would certainly be remembering the last prince to be born, my brother Edward, whose coming had meant the death of his mother. I listened to the prayers with emotion. “Give therefore unto Thy servants, Philip and Mary, a male issue.” I was always a little apprehensive about this manner of giving commands to God. Few would have dared treat me in the same manner! “Make him comely and in wit notable and excellent.” All I wanted was a healthy son; and I was the happiest woman in the world at the prospect of having one. CHRISTMAS HAD COME. I was delighted that my sister would be at Court to celebrate it with me. She did not appear often in public—only when her presence was commanded. Then she was subdued, and there was a secretive air about her. Philip was immensely interested in her. I often noticed his eyes following her. I told myself: He is a little suspicious of her; he fears she may be plotting against me. Dear Philip, he was so careful of me, and I was very happy that I had conceived so soon. It was a sign of fertility. I was feeling quite ill at times but I rejoiced in my suffering. It was all part of pregnancy, which could be very trying to some women. I expected it would be Yüklə 2,31 Mb. Dostları ilə paylaş:
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