The Elizabeth Tudor Conspiracy

by Alexandra Walsh

  “Mary defended herself for two days, then at the end of the second day, Elizabeth ordered the trial to be prorogued, pending her decision. The judges returned to London to debate their findings in the Star Chamber. Only Shrewsbury remained behind because he was too ill to travel.”

  “And wasn’t that when the Commissioners found Mary guilty of treason?” asked Perdita, consulting the timeline she had made from the facts they had gleaned from the Lady Pamela letters.

  “Yes, what do you have as happening then?”

  “We have ‘Mignonne’ sending letters to ‘Lady Venus’, voicing her concerns about the health of Artemis — who we assume is Mary — saying that if their captors move them again, she is unsure Artemis will survive because she’s so weak. She names someone called Black Fortescue being in charge and asks for clemency for Chidiock Tichbourne who has been doing his best to help them. Shortly after that, she mentions a Gaspar de Quiroga y Vela.”

  “No, that isn’t possible,” Kit said, his eyes wide.

  “Why? Who’s Gaspar de Quiroga y Vela?”

  “He was a Catholic official who was an important and very senior General Inquisitor of Spain.”

  “Oh my goodness, Kit, that must have been Philip’s real plan. To smuggle a member of the Inquisition in during the coup in Pembrokeshire. It was a distraction to get one of his top torturers into the country to fight from within.” Perdita walked to the desk and, perching on the edge, facing Kit. “What happened next?”

  “On 25 October 1586, the Commissioners reconvened in the Star Chamber in Westminster and declared Mary guilty of plotting to assassinate the queen, which was treason. One man, Lord Zouche, stated he wasn’t happy with the result and despite the fact the council found Mary guilty, Elizabeth refused to agree to the execution of her ‘sister Queen’,” said Kit. “And from here it becomes increasingly murky.”

  “Go on,” said Perdita. “We need as much detail as possible from the ‘accepted version’ so we can compare it with the details in the letters. According to our sources, the Spanish threat had fizzled out, largely due to Philip’s lack of planning and his arrogant assumption that the Catholic people of England and, particularly Wales, would rise up for him against Elizabeth.”

  “Despite Elizabeth refusing to sanction the execution, on 19 November 1586,” Kit continued, “Lord Brockhurst told Mary she has been found guilty of treason and she would be executed. He asked for a confession, which Mary, understandably, refused to give.”

  “Which seems awfully presumptuous of the Privy Council.”

  “Yes, although they seemed to think Elizabeth was persuadable and began a massive push to make her agree to Mary’s death. Robert Dudley returned to England on 24 November and was replaced by Peregrine Bertie, Lord Willoughby in the Netherlands. Philip Sidney, the poet and Robert’s nephew, had died from his battle injuries and Robert brought his body back. The court was devastated and went into mourning, then on 27 November Robert re-joined the court at Richmond. There are very few records of him trying to persuade Elizabeth to execute Mary — mostly the documents from around then say that she was giving him hell about spending vast sums of money on entertaining in the Netherlands when he should have been fighting.”

  “So, despite what should have been a pressing time concerning her safety and the safety of her realm, Elizabeth is quibbling over money?”

  “Apparently.”

  “But it doesn’t make sense. Not if what you put next is correct, that throughout December, Burghley was putting intense pressure on the queen to acknowledge Mary’s guilty sentence. So much so that Elizabeth supposedly agreed and Parliament obtained a declaration confirming the guilty verdict. Suddenly, in the run-up to Christmas, with festivities in full swing, she’s bowing to persuasion from Burghley and arguing with Robert Dudley, whereas a few weeks earlier she was fighting her Commissioners against a guilty verdict. What changed her mind?”

  “Maybe nothing,” said Kit. “Maybe it was changed after the event and that’s why it doesn’t really follow any trail of logic because, after this, it becomes even more peculiar.”

  “How so?”

  “On 15 December 1586, Mary wrote a farewell letter to Elizabeth, asking her to speed her to execution but Paulet refused to send it, instead he kept it, only giving it to the queen after Mary’s death. In it, Mary had asked to die.”

  “Mary asked to die?” said Perdita. “Why?”

  “Up until now, it hasn’t made any sense, but if you consider what Mignonne says in her letter that Mary was seriously ill, perhaps the Scottish queen had reached the end of her tether. She knew she was dying; she was in pain, and a quick death by the executioner’s axe may have seemed a blessed release from her agony. A sort of Tudor elected euthanasia.”

  “But Paulet didn’t send the letter,” Perdita clarified.

  “No, although, that’s not to say that other people weren’t aware of this strange new request from Mary because about then Walsingham is recorded as having something of a meltdown. He claimed Elizabeth had treated him appallingly, refusing to agree to Mary’s execution, when he’d worked very hard to deliver Mary into her hands. He was so annoyed that the queen still refused to sign the Bill of Attainder that he flounced out, leaving the court to spend Christmas at home. In fact, he was so stressed about the situation, there are reports that he became ill.”

  “And where is Elizabeth in all this?”

  “Suddenly, she does an about-turn and concludes that Mary must indeed die but rather than execute her, she begins dropping hints that she would prefer it if someone were to quietly assassinate her.”

  “What?”

  “Weird, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Yes, very peculiar. Did she approach anyone in particular?” Perdita asked.

  “Elizabeth supposedly asked her new secretary William Davison to write to Amyas Paulet and request he discreetly smother Mary in her sleep — an order Paulet chose to ignore because he didn’t want to become the scapegoat for Mary’s death.”

  “Very smart man,” agreed Perdita. “Although, where did this sudden change of heart come from?”

  “Who can say?” said Kit. “But by sometime around the January or February, this new secretary was making his mark. He and Burghley had hatched a plan — they had decided that the only way to convince Elizabeth to sign Mary’s death warrant was to scare her into it.”

  “And these were supposedly her loyal council?” Perdita said.

  “They were loyal as long as the queen was biddable, otherwise they were ruthless in pushing their own agendas and doing their utmost to play on the queen’s fears and manipulate her.”

  “No wonder she had trust issues.”

  “Anyone would if they’d been through what she had,” said Kit. “Cecil agreed with Davison and fabricated the lie that Spanish ships had been sighted off the coast of Wales. However, with the evidence we have in the letters, it would seem that there might really have been ships off the Pembrokeshire coast as part of Philip’s failed first invasion fleet and Burghley was merely embellishing the facts.

  “To fully ensure Elizabeth capitulated, Walsingham, Leicester, Hatton and the new French Ambassador, Guillaume de l’Aubespine, Baron de Chateauneuf met at Burghley’s house in Bishopsgate and conspired to ‘discover’ another assassination plot. The one they ‘discovered’ was actually two years old and had accounted to very little. It had focused on a man called Michael Moody who had planned to either leave barrels of gunpowder under Elizabeth’s bedchamber and blow her up — sound familiar? — or to poison her shoe or stirrup.”

  Perdita gave Kit a quizzical look — the famous gunpowder plot had not taken place until 1605 and by then Elizabeth was dead and James I, Mary’s son and the first Stuart king of England was on the throne.

  “On Wednesday 1 February 1587, terrified by this new information and told to double her bodyguard, Elizabeth was at Greenwich, desperate and fearful,” continued Kit. “She temporarily decided to give in and sign the warrant
but she demanded that Davison did not let it out of his sight until it had been signed and sealed by the Lord Chancellor, Sir Thomas Bromley — who, rather conveniently, died three months after Mary, Queen of Scots was executed. Incidentally, he was the one who had first suggested they stage a special trial for Mary. She was not an English citizen, therefore, technically, she could not be tried under English law.

  “Predictably, Davison didn’t do as Elizabeth asked. As soon as he had it, he showed the warrant to Leicester and Burghley who pressed for it to be sealed that afternoon. The next day, when Elizabeth contacted Davison and told him to delay because she was still unsure, Davison confessed it was too late and the seal had been applied by the Lord Chancellor, Sir Thomas Bromley. Elizabeth questioned why it had been done in such haste, then apparently turned away, saying she wanted no more to do with it.”

  “She did what?” asked Perdita, outraged.

  “I know, another peculiar anomaly,” said Kit. “She should have been furious, so to not react is very suspicious. Anyway, to ensure the warrant’s safe-keeping, Burghley insisted Davison give it to him. And, to add insult to injury, Burghley called a meeting of ten privy councillors in order to assess the queen’s frame of mind.”

  “This is scandalous,” exclaimed Perdita.

  “It gets worse,” said Kit, his expression grim. “Two days later, still worried that Elizabeth might change her mind, Burghley gathered the members of the Privy Chamber again. He already had a letter signed by them to authorise the earl of Shrewsbury and the Clerk of the Council, Robert Beale, to carry the warrant to Fotheringhay and ensure the execution was carried out immediately. The members of the council were sworn to secrecy until Mary was dead. Burghley claimed the need for secrecy was to spare Elizabeth’s feelings. I suspect it’s because he was still convinced he could manipulate the queen and that once he had executed Mary, Elizabeth would thank him whole-heartedly.

  “But, that night, Elizabeth had a nightmare that Mary had been executed. Dorothy Stafford, who was sharing Elizabeth’s bed, had the same terrible dream. At daybreak, Elizabeth sent for Davison and told him of this strange ‘augury’. Davison remained loyal to Burghley and skirted the issue of the warrant. Elizabeth felt sure something was amiss and mentally prepared herself for bad news from Fotheringhay. She also became determined to show her councillors that they could not control her.

  “On Tuesday 7 February 1587, two men arrived at Fotheringhay with the signed and sealed warrant. Mary had already retired to bed but on being told it was urgent she agreed to see them. She and her servants were informed that she was to die at 8am the next day. Worse, it was the ailing Earl of Shrewsbury who has to deliver the news. He had difficulty speaking — he had known and cared for Mary for nearly 25 years.”

  “But this is utterly barbaric,” said Perdita, tears welling in her own eyes. “If there is any truth in this, Elizabeth was virtually tricked into signing the warrant. Why would anyone believe she would behave so appallingly towards a fellow queen? It’s so inconsistent with her other documented behaviour.”

  “The thing is, Perds, people have pieced the story together from official documents, so they find a way to make it fit, even if sometimes you have to twist the facts almost to breaking point to make it believable,” said Kit.

  “This is too unbelievable, though,” said Perdita. “It’s a complete fabrication. Even other historians state that Walsingham invented and manipulated the plot to ensnare Mary.”

  “Remember, Perds, with every discovery we make, we’re proving that the facts are wrong and when we have the second ring, we’ll be in an even stronger position to prove we are correct and history is a lie.”

  “Yes, you’re right,” she said. “It’s the injustice of this particular tale that’s getting to me. Let’s finish off: Mary has been told she is to die — what happens next?”

  “The following morning, true to their word,” continued Kit, “Mary, Queen of Scots was executed in the Great Hall at Fotheringhay Castle. The earl of Shrewsbury and the earl of Kent were the official witnesses. Two of Mary’s ladies and five of her gentlemen were allowed to accompany her. Shrewsbury had to give the command and his voice nearly failed him. It took two blows to kill her and Shrewsbury was so distressed he was unable to say Amen to the prayer afterwards.

  “Shrewsbury’s son, Henry Talbot, set off for London on Thursday 9 February 1587 to carry the news to Burghley. Burghley and Hatton received the news at dawn; Chateauneuf heard it at midday. Elizabeth was out riding with the Portuguese ambassador, so she was not told until the evening when Burghley confessed what he had done. Elizabeth was so stunned that she did not react and Burghley thought his gamble had been successful. However, the next day, the full horror of Mary’s death hit Elizabeth and she became hysterical. Walsingham was absent from court, Leicester made himself scarce and Elizabeth would only speak to Burghley via Hatton. She blamed him and Davison entirely. She was furious they had acted without her express sanction, however, as the deed could not be undone, she resolved to make them suffer her wrath instead.”

  “And so she should — I hope she made them beg for forgiveness.”

  “She did. She summoned the Privy Councillors and was so terrible in her fury, they dropped to their knees, begging for mercy. Davison was sent to the Tower and a month later was tried in the Star Chamber and fined 10,000 marks, which would be about £6,000,000 today. He served a year in the Tower but the fine was never paid. Burghley was banished. Elizabeth wanted to humiliate him and prove she would no longer allow him to manipulate her, although he did write a couple of hasty official documents trying to blame everyone else and purged his own papers in order to remove anything incriminating.”

  “What an absolute coward,” muttered Perdita.

  “Yet he’s remembered as a respected statesman and protector of the realm.” Perdita tutted at these injustices and Kit continued, “Walsingham returned to court in March and was questioned as to the whereabouts of the Bill of Attainder. It appears the original that Beale delivered to Fotheringhay had mysteriously disappeared, which is why the only records we still have are two hastily written copies made by Beale shortly before he left for Fotheringhay Castle. And, finally, in the April of that year, Elizabeth allegedly wrote to Mary’s son, James VI of Scotland, feigning innocence and brazening it out. She sent her cousin, Robert Carey, Lord Hunsdon’s youngest son to report the ‘miserable accident’ because the two young men had met before and got on well. Carey, however, was advised to wait at the border, where he delivered the message to two of James’ councillors instead of the king.”

  “And Mary was dead and Elizabeth was known from that day on as a murderer of monarchs,” said Perdita. “Although, now we have the Lady Pamela letters, we can prove there is another version of events, one that makes more sense.”

  “Well, we have the letters, but at the moment we can’t corroborate them,” said Kit.

  “There was something else I wanted to ask you,” said Perdita, consulting her notes. “This states Philip Sidney was buried on 16 February 1587, eight days after Mary was executed. Another oddity, isn’t it? A state funeral in all but name with over 700 mourners, eight days after the death of a queen?”

  “But for a male courtier who didn’t even have royal blood?” mused Kit.

  “And, on 12 March 1587, a requiem mass was held for Mary in France, although she wasn’t interred in Peterborough Cathedral until the 30 July 1587, when she was buried with full honours. It was also in July 1587 that the 11-year-old Arbella Stuart, potential heir to Elizabeth’s throne, was officially presented to Elizabeth at court for the first time and, in Spain, Philip was beginning to amass the Armada.”

  “All in all, 1587 was a busy year.”

  “And one of huge contradictions,” said Perdita.

  They both lapsed into silence, which was broken by the door suddenly being thrown open and Piper rushing in, her face flushed with excitement.

  “Piper, what’s happened?” asked Perdita.<
br />
  “Nothing bad — in fact, it’s good news,” she said, excitement radiating from her. “We’ve found Hannah White’s address.”

  Chapter Two

  “We know where Hannah is and she still has the ring,” Piper exclaimed.

  “What? How did you find her?” gasped Perdita.

  “Alistair told me when we’d finished discussing the divorce — the contact details came through while we were talking. He’s suggested he approaches Hannah to see if she would be willing to sell the ring. He’s going to pose as an antique’s dealer.”

  “Piper, that’s a huge step forward,” said Kit.

  “Your dad has said we need to be circumspect,” Piper told him, “as he doesn’t want to alert MI1 to Hannah’s presence or, in case he’s still watching us, Randolph Connors either.”

  “And the divorce?” asked Perdita, her voice cautious.

  “Going ahead,” said Piper. “We’ll offer Jeremy a one-off, very substantial, settlement and make it clear, if he accepts it, there won’t be any more money. He will also be denied all access to Marquess House and has no claim on the property, something which is made easier because the house belongs to us jointly.”

  “And your house in Twickenham?”

  “He can have it,” she said. “I won’t be going back there again.”

  As Perdita hugged her sister, there was a knock on the door and Alistair poked his head around the door.

  “Dad,” exclaimed Kit, beckoning his father inside. “This is unexpected news about Hannah White. Is it too soon for a response?”

  “Unfortunately, yes — we need to give Ms White time to consider her options and check out the extensive antiques emporium website Cal has created for me to make the offer seem innocent…”