And history records the great sack of London by the Spanish and how the English fleet successfully blocked the Armada from leaving the Thames River and the doomed attempt of the Spanish army to march to the coast for rescue by the rest of the Spanish navy. Alas, that fleet was dispersed by a great storm and the ships that had landed the army were either destroyed or captured by our small but valiant fleet. Eventually, most the invading Spanish either surrendered as they ran out of supplies or died from the ague or the plague. It was a military debacle for their empire. I remained Queen, London was eventually rebuilt, and my people were determined to never again be invaded! Thus, the modern royal navy emerged and expanded despite having let so many Spanish troops land. Praise God for sending the terrible weather and diseases that rid of us the Spanish menace.
Chapter 19
September 7th, 1550
It was Edward’s 17th birthday. In one year, the reins of power would be entirely his. He faced many challenges as King. Spain, though their armada was beaten, remained a threat. France had been an ally under King François, but with King Henri II, our alliance was uncertain. Elizabeth’s status and position as Queen of France did little to help, if any. Cast aside and ignored by Henri II, the friendship between her and Diane de Poitiers had deteriorated. Elizabeth wrote to me that she had miscarried another fetus, and it was far enough along to have been seen to be a son. She also wrote to me of Eleanor of Austria’s unkindness to her, and of her fears and dreads that she felt often.
“I believe something horrible is about to happen, Mother, but I do not know what.” She wrote. She dared to write little else, it seemed, for Eleanor of Austria’s kindness upon my arrival had been a farce. I should have known better than to trust a Spaniard!
Thus far, Elizabeth had become pregnant twice, but had nothing to show for it. She instead decided to return to her studies and praying, as well as the pleasures she had in the outdoors. She wrote to me that she was pregnant again, and a Te Deum had been sung in thanksgiving. She also asked of the boy, Robert Dudley, that I knew she had fancied in her youth. Robert, I knew, was doing quite well and remained a knight in my service. I was reminded of Guinevere and Lancelot when Elizabeth wrote to me, but encouraged her to remain faithful to Henri II, despite her husband’s infidelities. She had written back that she was right to fear marriage. I could not dissuade her from her fear. She reminded me of the broken mirror on the ship in our letter, and the seven years of bad luck. That had been in 1545. It was now 1550. I began to wonder if she had been correct, although we had had victories during the years, the most important being over Spain.
But Spain, I knew, would not give up. As Edward and I monitored rebuilding the English Navy, I knew the Spanish continued to bring gold from their colonies in the New World. I spoke with Edward about the possibility of England exploring the New World, as well as with Jane.
“The New World is filled with heathens to convert to the Gospel.” Jane Grey said. She always had religion on her mind. Edward, though, was more practical.
“The New World is across the ocean, and we must preserve our ships for English needs.” Edward reminded his wife.
“But the New World is full of riches, son. Riches we should not let Spain alone plunder.” I reminded him. “The gold of Cortes, the jewels of Pizarro.”
I had heard of these exotic lands conquered by the Spanish. One was called Mexico, a land of wild birds and heathens that sacrificed humans. Mexico had a plant called maize, or corn, that the Spanish monopolized trade on. Cortes had discovered this land, and he had also taken a Mexican princess, Malinche, to wife. Pizarro had conquered a land further south, known as Peru, a land of jewels and potatoes, the same plant that the Spanish had once tried to poison me with.
“Yes. Are there other lands?” Edward asked.
“We cannot merely waste our money.” Jane Grey said.
“Waste, dear wife? We will not waste. We will have an army of English sea dogs to rival the Spanish.” Edward said. “The Spanish have gone South, we will conquer the new World north of them. The Americas, they call it?”
“Yes.” I said.
“England shall have North America, and Spain shall have South America.” Edward said.
“My son, first we must send a mission to this North America and this land.” I reminded him.
“Ah. Yes.” Edward said. “We shall use Thomas Seymour and Culpepper.”
I smiled at that. Both brave men, who could explore the seas.
In the meantime, the letters arrived from Elizabeth, sounding more and more urgent and lonely. With the death of Catherine Parr, she had lost her only confidante. She would soon go into confinement to bear her child, and she wrote to me of her fear, how Catherine Parr had gone into confinement and never come out. I could detect the tears and sadness in her letters and in her voice. All I could do was pray for Elizabeth to bear a healthy son and for her own wisdom.
In time, the news came from France. Elizabeth had borne a strong son, named François, for her father-in-law, who had been kind to her. She was also well. Henri was going to joust in her honor, and, for once, Diane de Poitiers would not be at Court. The joust would take place in January, honoring the Queen of France and the Dauphin.
“Just like my Henry.” I said, remembering the joust he had done in my honor after the birth of the Duke of York. Then, in horror, I remembered the events that had transpired while I had been in confinement.
“Just like my Henry!” I said, and fainted, begging that history not repeat itself.
Chapter 20
Spring- Summer 1551
The events had transpired as I had feared. Henri II, as my Henry had done, in jousting for his wife, had become fatally injured. Nothing could be done to save his life. Only Henri II had not been as wise as Henry VIII. He had left the Regency, not to his wife, Elizabeth, who had an able head and capacity for ruling, but to his mother, Eleanor of Austria. Elizabeth remained in the Court of France, but was forbidden all contact with her son, now François II. Worse, she had begun receiving letters of an amorous nature from Philip, Charles’s son, who desired her for himself. It seemed that Prince Philip would not take no for an answer, and Eleanor was determined to make my daughter a Spanish princess.
Edward was incensed by this, vowing to rescue his ‘Sweet Sister Temperance’, as he called her.
“My sister will not be Queen of Spain! She will return to England!” Edward vowed.
“And do what? Live as a spinster?” I said, although I feared for her safety, whether she remained in France or was taken to Spain.
“You do not wish my sweet sister temperance to die, do you Mother” Edward stated.
“I do not think…” I said, but I knew that Eleanor of Austria was Katharine of Aragon’s niece. She had not forgiven me, nor had she forgotten. If Katharine’s line could not have their revenge on me, they would not hesitate, I knew, to humiliate the daughter of Anne Boleyn.
“Edward, we must maintain diplomatic relations with France. Spain is our mutual enemy and we cannot jeopardize our alliance.”
“What alliance, Mother? The enemy of one’s enemy is not necessarily one’s friend.” Edward stated.
“My husband speaks wisely.” Jane said.
“I shall write to Eleanor, and ask for Elizabeth to be returned to us.” Edward said.
“In exchange for what?” Jane Grey asked.
“In exchange for the friendship to remain.” Edward said.
It was written to France that Elizabeth would return to England in exchange for her dowry to remain in the hands of the French crown. First, however, I knew Elizabeth would be inspected and watched to be certain she was not with child. I had remembered this when Henry VIII’s sister, Mary Tudor, had briefly been Queen of France some forty years prior and she had returned to England to marry Charles Brandon. At last, Elizabeth was returned to us that summer.
We waited for her ship to arrive. Edward had planned a grand welcoming ceremony for his sister. England’s rose, h
e called her, was returning. The people crowded the docks that day, anxiously awaiting to see Elizabeth. Jane Grey had, yet, produced no children. As such, if she was no longer Queen of France, Elizabeth was now the Princess of Wales and heiress presumptive of her brother. The chances of her being queen were remote, because, of course, Jane Grey would produce an heir, a son. But I knew Edward was proud of his twin sister, his soul, and should the worst happen…
But I did not wish to ponder the worst anymore. We had had enough. That September, Edward would become King in truth and I would be merely the dowager queen.
Interlude: Prince Philip’s Obsession.
Charles and Philip had been humiliated twice over. The Great Spanish Armada and Army had been destroyed by Anne Boleyn’s witchcraft, and Anne’s daughter had returned to England, escaping Philip’s grasp! Philip was growing older, and he knew many women desired him. Why, of all women, must the one he desired most, the daughter of Anne Boleyn, be the one woman who refused his advances?
Philip heard that Elizabeth had returned to England, left France, and was now Princess of Wales, should Jane Grey, England’s new queen consort, not produce a son. But Jane Grey had a dainty body, one so slender, not suited for childbearing. Elizabeth would be queen, Philip knew it. Boleyn’s witchcraft would make that certain.
“I will not take no for an answer, Father.” Philip stated to Emperor Charles. Charles who was an old man. The future, he knew, belonged to his son.
“You must marry, Philip. Cease this fantasy of taking Elizabeth as your wife and wed someone else. Anyone else.” Charles insisted.
“Make me a king.” Philip demanded. “Who but a king is fit for a queen?”
“Elizabeth is not the queen of England yet.” he said. “And she disgraces herself with Robin Dudley. No sooner was she returned to England than she resumed her love with that lowlife. But she is the daughter of Henry VIII, who rejected a princess of Spain for her common mother.”
“Make me King!” Philip demanded. “Then, I shall have Elizabeth, and be King of England!”
“Fine. I will make you King of Sicily.” Charles said. “If you cannot tempt the baseborn Boleyn’s daughter with being a king, nothing will bring her to your side, my son.”
Philip had been married before, to Maria Manoela of Portugal, who had died six years ago. She had borne him a son, Don Carlos, but the prince showed signs of madness and had to be shut away. Maria had cried out in her death that Philip was seduced by the daughter of Anne Boleyn, and her grief had killed her.
“Give up on Boleyn’s daughter, my son. For the sake of Spain and yourself.” Charles advised.
“No.” Philip said.
“You want what you cannot have and hate what you cannot control. She would be both to you.” Charles warned. But Philip did not listen. Elizabeth would be his, if he had to tear Europe in two!
Chapter 21
Christmas 1551
I was no longer the Regent—Edward was now king and had assumed full power of the throne, and Jane Grey, as queen consort, was pregnant. She was thirteen now, a trifle young for a first pregnancy, but it was her duty to bear Edward a son. Elizabeth had returned from France and was welcomed at Court as Princess of Wales, a title she would retain until Jane bore a son.
That Christmas was a happy time, one I would later look back on with fondness. Edward and Jane loved dancing and merriment, and we all enjoyed toasting to each other with loud ‘Wassails.’ We all danced wildly, even myself, who was aging. Elizabeth, welcomed and adored as the beloved English princess, often asked for la volta, a favorite dance of us both, where the partners take turns lifting each other. Of course, the lady does no actual lifting, the gentleman first leaps and then propels her high into the air. Elizabeth would at times dance with her brother, but I noticed often that my daughter’s dancing partner was Robin Dudley, her old childhood friend. Jane could not dance, being pregnant, but Edward, in stark contrast to his father, did not eye the ladies of the court. In absence of his wife, he danced often with myself or Elizabeth.
Twelfth Night came, a favored festivity of Epiphany. The tradition was that a pea and a bean were baked in the cake. The man who found the bean was king and the lady who found the pea was the queen. Elizabeth announced that she had found the pea. Edward smiled and announced to the court “sweet Sister Temperance has found the pea! Who shall be my sister’s king tonight?”
There was a loud murmuring. At last, Robin Dudley spoke that he had found the bean. Edward joyously laughed.
“Well then! For tonight’s ceremony, I shall ‘abdicate’ in favor of Robin Dudley. Do enjoy your time together!” Edward stated, as Robin sat at Elizabeth’s side, playing verses to her on his lute, crooning to his queen. I was reminded of a Twelfth Night at Henry’s court, when I had been Henry’s paramour. I had found the pea and was queen, but the man who found the bean had been Henry Norris. Wisely, Henry had eaten the bean and told no one, and Henry had claimed himself as King of the Night, dancing with me. It had been that evening that Katharine of Aragon’s eyes had been opened, and she had realized that it was true that her husband no longer loved her.
But tonight, was different. Elizabeth and Robin Dudley indeed only had eyes for each other, and it was they, not Jane and Edward, who were the talk of the court. Everywhere I went I heard whispers
“Lord Robin, Princess Elizabeth.”
Indeed, it was so soon after the death of Henri of France that it was indeed indecent, and I had to speak to Elizabeth about this.
“Elizabeth, you must mourn at least a year before you even think of wedding again, or letting a gentleman pay you attention!” I told her as we walked through the snow the next morning for exercise. Elizabeth, like myself, was robust and athletic, as was her brother. It was Jane Grey’s health that concerned me.
“But I love Robin, Mother. I never loved Henri.” Elizabeth said. I shook my head.
“I told you, did I not, of myself and Henry Percy? Before I wed your father?” I said.
“Many times, Mother. You would rather have been Harry’s countess than Henry’s queen.” Elizabeth said, mimicking my voice perfectly. I swatted her for her insolence.
“Honor thy mother, Elizabeth.” I reminded her of the words spoken In Scripture. She winced, whether from being struck or being reprimanded, though, I could not say. Henry Duke of York was dead, but Elizabeth reminded me more of her father than her brother. Indeed, of all of Henry’s children, she resembled him the most, both in looks and in character.
“I enjoyed France as much as you did, Mother.” Elizabeth said. “But I do not care for the ways of their Court. I was cast aside and ignored out of Henri’s shadow. I will not have that happen to me again.”
“Do you think to marry Dudley?” I asked in shock. A princess marrying a commoner! But then, I knew, her father had done it, as had her lusty great- grandfather, Edward IV. Her Aquitaine and Boleyn dolls were gone, but she still had the dolls of both her grandmother and her great-grandmother. They had remained behind, along with her doll of Philippa. I had kept them as keepsakes, reminders of my Elizabeth when she had been a little girl.
“I…” Elizabeth said. She had no answer. Apparently, she had not thought this through.
“It does not matter if I marry him, does it Mother? I will not be Queen. Jane Grey will bear a son, and Edward will continue to rule, will he not?” Elizabeth asked.
“We do not know what gender Jane’s babe is.” I said. “And no matter what anyone says, we cannot tell until the child is born.”
“It will be a son. The soothsayers all say so.” Elizabeth said.
“They always state that, and soothsayers seek their power from Satan, or they trick people by lying!” I said. I worried about her fascination with soothsayers and seeking mediums for answers. God’s Word explicitly forbade it! I knew many kings sought the advice of these folks, but I also knew witchcraft was a sin, and, though God had anointed kings to rule over their subjects, sin was still sin! If God had not spared S
aul when he sought out the Witch of Endor, he would not spare my daughter!
“I had my fortune told in France, Mother.” Elizabeth said.
“Elizabeth!” I gasped. What doors to Satan was she opening?! Oh Jesus, have mercy!
“The fortune teller told me.”
I swatter her again.
“I don’t want to hear the words of someone who is either a flatterer or working for the Devil!” I said. “And mind you never to seek the advice of mediums or sorcerers! Anyone who does this is detestable to the Lord!”
“Mother, the woman was Catherine de Medici, the one who was intended for Henri.” Elizabeth said. A chill went through me. I saw now Elizabeth would repeat the words she had heard, whether I wished to hear them or not.
“A woman who turned to witchcraft when she was spurned by France.” I reminded Elizabeth.
“Catherine told me I would be the greatest queen England ever knew.” Elizabeth said.
“The Medici woman spoke to your pride and vanity.” I said. These were traits I myself battled with, I knew, and I was determined to help Elizabeth as long as God still allowed me to remain on this Earth.
“Medici also said the bad luck would end when I become queen.” Elizabeth said.
“Your brother is king.” I said.
“I would never seek to harm him, Mother.” Elizabeth said.
“No. Nor he you. But forget what that Italian witch told you, for your own good!” I said.
“But Mother, it was a good fortune.” Elizabeth said.
“For you, yes.” I admitted. “But you becoming queen would- God forbid- involve Edward dying! TO speak of the king’s death is treason. Also, Elizabeth, this might be true. We do not know. But Satan controls these black arts, which is why God told us not to have anything to do with them. God will not be in any approach to the supernatural he hates, and that is any approach but his son, Jesus Christ, who bled and died for us to enter Heaven.” I said.
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