Tudor Queen, Tudor Crown

by Jennifer Peter Woods

  When my mother sailed for these shores to be England’s queen they had not feared a Spanish invasion! Mary thundered to her ministers, they had welcomed her, her dowry and the great alliance!

  But we speak not of a queen your majesty, her steadfast Gardiner warned. We speak of a king and your people cannot stomach a foreign king on English soil.

  Have faith in the people of England! Mary bid Gardiner. I am their first and only queen. I am king here. No husband of mine shall ever rule in my stead!

  But the people rose against her.

  Mary was stunned. She had thought that her people would soon set aside their fears. She even promised to call parliament to hear their case in a civilized manner. But it was too late. Before Parliament could be called, the dissenters gathered.

  When her scouts came to her with reports of shadows and suspicions, Mary, scenting rebellion knew it was time to pounce. In the middle of the night and with Renard and Gardiner by her side, she signed the warrant for Courtenay’s arrest.

  When the soldiers at arms descended on him, Courtenay, like the most seasoned of cowards, surrendered. Without ado, he gave up the names of his co-conspirators, confessing his part, pleading for mercy.

  When the full scope of their plan was made known to her, Mary was stunned thrice over.

  It was a plot that ran deep.

  The traitors had not only roused the people, they had also enlisted England’s oldest enemy, France, as their ally. As they speak, a fleet of French ships was taking formation in the channel to fire on any Spanish forces that might come to lend Mary Tudor aid.

  And while the French ships laid off the coast, in England, the four leaders, Wyatt, Carew, Grey and Croft retreated to their family strongholds to gather their forces, making ready to descend on London. Their aim was to rouse the populace in their counties and their plan was to march, envelop the city of London and capture Mary.

  They meant to replace Mary with her sister Elizabeth. Not only so, their design was to install Edward Courtenay beside Elizabeth as king. He would be Elizabeth’s husband and the king to Elizabeth’s queen, and together, the Protestant heirs would rule.

  Furious, Mary’s reaction was swift. With no standing army at her disposal, she had to be quick and she had to act with wit. She had Courtenay’s arrest proclaimed throughout her realm, hoping to startle the rebels. She wanted them to act. She wanted them to answer. She wanted them to fumble and falter. She would show them that she was no ordinary woman. She would stand her ground and fight.

  And in her hour of need, God answered her prayers. One by one, the traitors learning of Courtenay’s fate spun into action, rushed and premature.

  Croft was the first to act.

  He rode for Elizabeth in Hertfordshire. It was said he met with the princess there but shortly after he abandoned the rebellion and hid.

  In Leicestershire, Henry and Thomas Grey found few ready to bleed for their cause, and for all their rebel rousing their forces had numbered only a hundred and fifty men; most of them the Duke’s own retainers.

  As for Carew’s task in Exeter, he too found few friends willing to lay down their lives for him. The people there were mostly of the old faith. Even the protestant lords there however had no desire to commit their lives to the treasonous task. Knowing the ruse was up Carew abandoned the plot and fled across the Channel to Normandy.

  The rebel cause was unraveling and unraveling fast. The next stroke against them came as the French contingent, on a whim and a change of heart from their king, Henri II, abandoned them too, sailing away, leaving as quietly as they came.

  One by one, the rebel leaders succumbed, leaving Wyatt the only man standing. But unlike his co-conspirators, the man had mettle. Refusing to back down, Wyatt pressed forward, gathering his friends and his men at Allington Castle in Kent. Then, on January the twenty-sixth his riders proclaimed his cause far and wide. At first, those loyal to Mary in the counties Wyatt held sway thought they would be able to quash the rebels. There, under the command of Sir Robert Southwell and Lord Abergavenny, the crown engaged a small party of Wyatt’s men, gaining a victory at Hartley Wood.

  But the bulk of the dissenters refused to disperse.

  Ridden with fury, Mary sent forth the Duke of Norfolk at the head of yet another contingent. She had paced and paced, praying for victory, praying for Wyatt’s men to prove themselves as craven as Carew, Courtenay and Croft.

  But the tide was ready to turn and turn again.

  As soon as the traitors were within sight, the men under Norfolk’s command turned themselves over to Wyatt and the Duke fled.

  The men who wore her colors had defected to the rebel cause, spitting upon the sovereign they had sworn to serve.

  The news brought Mary to the brink. With my own men swelling Wyatt’s ranks, the traitors now number some four thousand, she had counted and paced, counted and paced. Wyatt now had four thousand men ready to die with him.

  Throughout the long days and nights, Mary fought on, sleepless. The pains in her sides clawed and gnawed but she gritted her teeth against the blinding agony and held on.

  With nowhere else to turn, she played her last card and commanded Gardiner to send to Wyatt, asking him to state his terms.

  You must know your enemy before you can fight him, she reminded herself; she wanted to fathom the depths of the man’s audacity and just as Mary envisaged, the man’s demands were wild.

  He wanted command of the Tower. He wanted a full surrender and he wanted Mary placed under his protectorate.

  Mary had his words proclaimed throughout England and just as she hoped, her people, outraged, rallied to her.

  Seizing her chance, Mary sailed forth. She did not hide behind her guards and she did not retreat, instead, she went to her retainers and her people. She rode forth and stood before them at Guildhall where she declared unto them the words from her soul.

  I am your queen. To whom at my coronation, when I was wedded to the realm and laws of the same, in whose name I wear the spousal ring whereof I have on my finger, which never hitherto was nor hereafter left off, you promised your allegiance and obedience to me.

  The people cheered her but she spoke on-

  I say to you, on the word of a prince. I cannot tell how naturally the mother loveth a child, for I was never the mother of any. But certainly, if a prince may as naturally and earnestly love her subjects as the mother doth love her child, then assure yourselves that I, being your lady and mistress, do as earnestly and tenderly love and favor you. And I, thus loving you cannot but think that you as heartily and faithfully love me! And then, I doubt not but we shall give these rebels a short and speedy overthrow!

  Her people, hearing their sovereign’s words and seeing her ready to lay down her life, flocked to her. Twenty-five thousand men declared themselves for me. They took to arms, eager to protect their queen.

  The people knew the danger they were in. They were under siege. London was in peril and the life of their queen was at stake.

  And in my hour of need, my people stayed true, blocking the traitors from entering London and capturing their queen. Everywhere she turned, her people were out in force. Throughout the city, the soldiers worked alongside the common persons of her realm, cutting off the entrances to the city. Bridges were burned and dismantled and the Thames guarded. The people and Mary’s forces occupied London Bridge and the streets from Coventry to Cheapside. Everywhere the rebels turned they saw an impenetrable sea of men ready to die for their queen. Taken aback, the rebels retreated to Southwark.

  But they would find no welcome there.

  Lord Chandos who commandeered the Tower hearing of the rebel’s retreat promptly aimed his guns at Southwark and threatened to fire.

  Wyatt, fearing a blood bath marched his men to Kingston. The bridge there was gone too but in their desperation the traitors scrambled across. Some tried to repair the bridge but others simply stepped over one another to reach their destination. But at Ludgate, the people there brandished t
heir makeshift weapons and shouted the rebels down.

  From then on, Wyatt’s rebellion started to unravel.

  His men, seeing London up in arms, retreated. Their party started to break. Fearing for their lives, they fled, leaving the people cheering and chanting.

  God bless the Queen!

  God bless Good Queen Mary!

  Word of the rebel’s retreat travelled fast and everywhere the word went the people erupted with more cheering. London was in celebration.

  God bless the Queen!

  Mary heard the resounding cries and wept, with relief, with joy and with her love for her people.

  She was triumphant because her people and God had stood by her side. She prayed for them. She prayed for every man, woman and child who flocked to her cause and she thanked God for his mercy.

  But now with her tears dried, the business of killing had to begin.

  Four thousand men had marched with Wyatt.

  How many must swing for their sins? Mary asked herself. Each and every man, do they not have farms to till? Families? Wives? Children?

  Mary spent long hours staring into the night, her mind spinning, running over what had to be done. Kill or be killed. I must be firm. Prove myself a true sovereign. I must kill or be killed.

  She thought of her father and asked herself in her heart of hearts what he would have done. How many must I send to their deaths? How many must swing from the gibbets?

  In the morning, when the men of her council came for her, their eyes were expectant. Without ado, Mary gave them her orders: only the most culpable would die. So they began a hunt for Wyatt who was on the run for his life. He was soon found and brought to the Tower. As for the men who marched with him, Mary had warrants drawn for some ninety of them.

  I have emerged, by the grace of God, triumphant, and as such I am willing to overlook and pardon the insults done to my person, she ruled. For she remembered those who came to her aid, their faces, their passion and their love for their queen and her heart warmed. I would govern with the love of my people. I am their anointed sovereign; their shepherd, their mother and I shall be merciful.

  Many would flee England’s shores. Those who had managed to elude capture had already done so. And foremost amongst them was Thomas Stafford, the nephew of Margaret de la Pole, Mary’s nurse of old.

  Mary ordered each disappearance to be tracked and traced while her council clamored in anger, protesting against her lenience.

  Too many or too few, the arguments raged back and forth, but it was of no consequence, for Mary guessed that they would always have occasion to find fault with her doings. Too lenient, some whispered of her, a woman is always averse to spilling blood.

  And what if I sent hundreds to the gallows? What will you say of me then? Mary wanted to ask of them. Would you denounce me for being as blood thirsty as Boadicea? Or would you praise me for being a sovereign with a stomach of iron? Would you praise me for being every inch my father’s daughter?

  There was no pleasing them.

  I cannot be anything other than what I am, and I shall govern as I see fit.

  Still, a lesson needed to be taught. She didn’t want to bathe her reign in blood. She didn’t thirst for blood. In truth she didn’t have a taste for it at all, but it needed to be done.

  She sighed, a deep drawn out breath of relief as well as grief coming from the very depths of her soul.

  On the morrow, they would be executed.

  Hanged, drawn and quartered, it shook her to inflict such horrid deaths, even upon her enemies. But there was no other way. They had cast their lot and chosen their fate when they dared to rise against their anointed sovereign.

  Mary firmed her heart, telling herself to feel no remorse for their coming deaths. She blinked away her foolish tears and traced her eyes over the names again.

  Wyatt.

  Wyatt would die.

  Just like many more must.

  Henry Grey and Thomas Grey would die as well. She had shown them mercy once before and they had scorned it, spurning her, and for their part in the plots, they would die. But the brothers Grey had bought with their folly not only their deaths but that of Guildford Dudley and Jane Grey’s too.

  Jane Grey and her husband Dudley. Mary shook her head. She had kept them imprisoned while Northumberland and his men went to the block. She had believed them innocent and she had thought to keep them alive. But now her hand was forced.

  All the Greys would die and Guildford Dudley too. Leniency toward them had availed her of nothing. Yet when the warrants for their deaths were drawn, Mary struck off Robert Dudley’s name from their midst. The man had no claim to the throne and with his brother and the Greys dead, he would be of no threat to her, so she allowed him to live.

  Small mercies, she thought, I will dispense them where I can. But I cannot spare the Greys. They have twice played me for the fool. My father would have never tolerated such insolence. He would have never wavered. They must die.

  So she signed the warrants for their deaths, tracing through her great signature, Mary Rex with quick flourish. She would make her realm safe. She was a woman born but she was neither weak of mind nor weak of flesh.

  Too many heirs in a realm make for a dangerous condition, Renard reminded her again and again. Those too dangerous to keep, and stupid enough to scorn mercy, would die. Their fates were sealed.

  As for her sister Elizabeth, Mary stared into the fire. She didn’t know what to do with her.

  At her command, Elizabeth was to be brought to London.

  For as long as the chaos lasted, Elizabeth had claimed to be ill. While Mary was concerned, she insisted that Elizabeth should be conveyed here. Letters intercepted from Wyatt and the French Ambassador in the days before the eruption of the rebellion had proved Elizabeth to be, if not implicit, than at the very least privy to the threat against Mary.

  What have you done sister? Mary wanted to ask her. Do you truly wish me dead?

  Mary sent the Lords Howard, Hastings and Cornwallis to bear Elizabeth hence in her own royal litter. Once here, Elizabeth would be installed at Whitehall, where Gardiner, Lord Norfolk and Southampton would interview her.

  Mary stared into the flames, her mind leaden with heavy thoughts. The blaze crackled. Licking high, the tongues of the fire fought and danced along the logs in the crate. Mary measured its progress, watching on as the fire consumed a width of good English oak, singeing it, destroying it. The warmth heated her face, making the color stand high on her lean cheeks.

  Many tasks awaited her and while her wounds from the rebellion were raw, duty demanded that she attend to the troubles besieging her people.

  The rebellion is over, now the great task of making England safe begins.

  Soon, she would leave Whitehall for Oxford. She needed to open Parliament and discuss the great matters plaguing her real. The people needed to be assured, the security of her lands seen to and England’s woes addressed.

  For now, she would delegate the questioning and the care of her sister to her ministers, for she had to hasten to make safe her reign. The crown must not slip from my head, she reminded herself over and over. I must hold it, guard it and keep it.

  Rubbing her hands over her aching eyes, Mary let out a long drawn sigh. There were too many vipers here at court, too many smiling faces with not a jot of truth in their hearts. Such beings milled around her, grinning and bowing, from my lords, my ministers to my own sister, they have all wished me ill. They have all wished me dead.

  The night, it laid heavily upon her soul.

  The crown makes murderers of us all.

  In the days ahead, many tests awaited her and she would face them, each and every one. The Wyatt rebellion had shown her much. Traitors, they were hiding in every corner and in every shadow. They haunt, they plot and they hunt me, their queen.

  Her father’s ruthlessness in the days of old rushed through her mind. Her father was merciless against his enemies and with their blood he bought for England days
of gold. They remembered him now with fondness. He was good King Hal, a great king, a great general and a masterful sovereign.

  He had struck, refusing to be stricken. He cheated, lied and won his way through every battle that was his. He decided had to die, when and where, and he had lashed out against his foes without mercy…

  Her thoughts turned upon her Queenship and the coming days.

  Who can I trust? she wanted to ask her father, but the answer was already there. No one, she knew her father would say, a king must trust no one.

  SUSAN CLARENCIEUX

  March, Oxford

  The Lady Elizabeth has been conveyed to London in the queen’s royal litter, ran the reports. Those that saw her proclaimed Elizabeth to be very ill indeed, for they saw her with her face puffed, her eyes sunken and her body bloated with bile.

  Yea, she is bloated and puffed. She has grown so on the bile of her treachery, scoffed Susan.

  Elizabeth had seen the heads rotting on the Tower Gates. There was Wyatt and his co-conspirators, their decapitated heads and broken limbs making for a gruesome display.

  Such is the lot of traitors. Susan had seen the exhibition on the ramparts and crossed herself, relieved that the queen was safe. As for the men of the council, they were all of them treading with care, for a great debate was afoot: what is to be done with the Princess Elizabeth?

  The reports of the Lady Elizabeth’s conduct had reached the queen’s ears. She is headstrong, willful and tearful, they said, and fearful too.

  There were many who protested her innocence just as there were many who persisted in her guilt. The Protestant faction was eager to make safe their heir and the Catholics were just as eager in their desire to be rid of her.

  Those closest to the queen had whispered many a time in her ears, suggesting, hinting, at what should be done. The Lady Elizabeth is steeped in treachery. She is guilty. She is one of the conspirators. Your majesty must act. Rid yourself of the viper! Renard, the Spanish ambassador had been tireless in his recommendations. Even the great Alexander had to rid himself of his siblings so that the crown of Macedon could sit safely upon his head, they insisted. Your majesty must suffer no more challenges to your throne. Your majesty must make safe your crown!