by Jean Plaidy
She lifted her face to mine and there was no mistaking her woebegone expression.
I said: “Take the stool. Now confess.”
“It is because we all love Your Majesty so dearly…”
“Yes, yes,” I interrupted impatiently. “That is the opening when people are going to admit to have done me some wrong. Get on with it.”
“We have done you no wrong, Your Majesty. Indeed not. There is not one of us who would not die for you.”
“So many have offered me their lives,” I retorted, “that the offer does lose its impact after a while—particularly as these offers are frequently given lightly, so that to offer a life to a queen has become almost a figure of speech. Don't try my patience further, Mary. Admit. Confess, whatever it is.”
“Robert loves you dearly. You are his life. If you could have seen his pride, his joy when you referred to him as your Eyes…He cannot live in this suspense, Your Majesty.”
“And what does he propose to do about that?”
“It was a plan.”
“Do you mean a plot?”
“I mean that Henry and I and Robert thought…if we could get the help of Spain to your marriage, you would agree to it.”
“And how do you think you could get the consent of Spain?”
“Your Majesty, Philip is no longer your suitor, but there is one thing that Spain desires above all else—perhaps more than an alliance through marriage. That England returns to Rome.”
“What!” I cried, almost jumping out of my chair.
“Well, we thought—Henry, Robert and I—that if Spain had the promise that England should be returned to Rome in exchange for their support in the marriage…”
“Indeed!” I cried. “And I suppose King Robert would have arranged this after the marriage?”
Mary was silent. I sat very still. You are not yet King, Lord Robert, I thought. And this is what you would propose! Consent to the marriage and you will return England to Rome!
How right I had been! He thought himself already King. What had de Quadra said: “Dismiss Cecil.” The cleverest and most unbiased counselor the Queen ever had! And all because he was what the Spaniards would call a heretic!
I began to laugh.
Mary looked at me wonderingly.
“Your Majesty is not angry?” she said pleadingly. “It is only because Robert loves you so much… because he is so impatient.”
“And because he is so ambitious, eh? Because already he feels the crown on his head?”
“I should not have told you.”
“It was your duty to tell me.”
“I was very worried to be involved in such a plan without your knowledge.”
“And so you should be. But you did well to tell me, and know this, and tell your fellow conspirators this, that whatever they think to plot without my knowledge, they will never succeed in it. There is one ruler of this realm and I am that ruler.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Bring me my looking-glass,” I said.
She did and I studied my face. Not beautiful…as Lettice Knollys was, but attractive with that white skin and tawny hair and large tawny eyes which had a faraway look, yet penetrating, because they were a trifle shortsighted. I touched my hair with my beautiful white hands. No one had hands quite like mine—not even Lettice Knollys.
I said, “Get your combs. I need my hair a little higher. Hurry, and take care that you do not pull.”
While Mary arranged my hair I was thinking: Sell my country to Rome! My dear Robert, you may be handsome, charming, much sought after by the women of my Court, but I am the Queen. I am the one who makes decisions. That is something you will have to learn.
No man shall govern me; and I shall govern my country.
TO MY DISTRESS Lady Jane Seymour died. She had been ailing for some time and had never been a strong girl. I had been quite fond of her and to please her family I ordered that she should have a state funeral in Westminster Abbey.
I missed her very much. Jane had been one of those good girls who never complained and was always willing to do what was asked of her.
I had always believed that I should show myself to my people, and I liked to move about the country so that those who lived in remote places could feel they had some contact with me.
Since the Amy Robsart scandal I felt more than ever the need to keep my people's good will and so I was traveling often. When we made these progresses through the country, the Court went with us. We stayed at the various big houses on the route and although my rich subjects found entertaining us very costly, they regarded it as a great honor and would even be piqued if their houses were not visited.
On this particular occasion we were in Ipswich and among my retinue was Robert, of course. As my Master of Horse he must always be with us and he would ride beside me which was all in keeping with the position he held and was one of the reasons why we had both thought it perfect for him.
I had not reprimanded him about his secret plot with the Spanish Ambassador, but I continued to hold him off, and he remained in a state of frustration which was sufficient punishment, I thought; since he was as ardently devoted as ever, I was quite satisfied with the state of affairs.
With us also was Lady Katharine Grey who had seemed very preoccupied of late. After Mary Sidney's confession, I wondered what Katharine was about. She was pale and there were rings about her eyes which I had not noticed before. She looked as though she was sickening for something. I was not greatly disturbed because she was after all a rival of whom I must always be conscious and my nature was not of a kind to endear me to such people.
It was while we were in Ipswich that Lord Robert surprised me while I was at my toilette.
It was early morning and he looked so disturbed that I dismissed my women and granted him an audience. I was looking quite attractive with my hair loose and in my petticoats, though when he appeared I immediately requested that a wrap be put about my shoulders.
When they had gone Robert seized my hand and kissed it.
“My dearest,” he said, “I had to come to tell you this without delay for I fear someone else should bring news of what happened last night and misconstrue…”
“Tell me quickly,” I cried. “I am all interest.”
“Last night Lady Katharine Grey came to my bedchamber.”
I felt myself go cold with fury but he went on quickly: “Oh, not on my invitation. She came to plead with me for help. I dispatched her with all speed, but I feared someone might have seen her either enter or leave my bedchamber and have come to you with some garbled story.”
“You had better tell me what happened.”
“She was not five minutes in my chamber. She was frantic with anxiety. That is why she came.”
“What is her problem? Does she want you to help her take the throne from me, or would she offer my country to Rome as a bait for their help?”
He flushed a little. Then he said: “She is pregnant and in a dire state.”
“Pregnant! She has no husband. I have never been asked to give my consent to a marriage.”
“She has a husband.”
“Who is he?”
“Lord Hertford.”
“He is in France.”
“Exactly so, and she does not hear from him. She swears she is married, but she has no proof of this until Hertford returns. Meanwhile she wants help.”
I was angry. She had no right to marry without my consent. She was next in line to the succession and she was pregnant, which would call attention to my barren state.
“Help?” I said. “How dare she? To marry without my consent and that of the Council! It is feckless in the extreme. She should go to the Tower. Do you believe there was a marriage? Hertford is not in the country. There must have been witnesses.”
“I dismissed her quickly from my chamber and know nothing but what I have told you, and that, I thought, should be imparted to you without delay.”
“Indeed yes,” I said.
He looked at me pleadingly. “How delightful you look so simply attired. I am not sure that you are not even more beautiful like this. I think you are. You do not need the adornments so necessary to other women. Simple, natural, beautiful, the Queen among women…in her natural state…”
He would have embraced me but I held him off.
“My women are close by,” I said. “We want no more gossip.”
“Then let us marry and put an end to it.”
I sighed. “I fear that would be the start of it.”
“My dearest, you would have nothing to fear with me beside you. I would protect you.”
“Oh never fear, Robert, I will protect myself well enough.”
“Then…”
“Now get out, dear Robert. I shall call my women to finish dressing me. I must see Katharine Grey at once.”
SHE STOOD BEFORE ME—a poor frightened girl. I could almost feel sorry for her.
“You had better repeat that tale which Lord Robert has brought to me concerning you,” I said.
She fell on her knees and I went on: “You are very humble today, my lady. That is unusual. Tell me everything.”
“Your Majesty, Lord Hertford and I fell in love when I was at the Seymours' place where I went with Jane. Jane was very anxious for us to marry and helped us.”
I nodded grimly. “So Hertford had to be pressed into it, did he?”
She did not answer.
“Well,” I said, “so you married. What witnesses have you? Where is the priest? Girls dally with men, I know, and then are amazed at the consequences.”
“Madam,” she said with some dignity, remembering doubtless that she had a claim to the throne. “Lord Hertford and I are married.”
“Well, then you should have no difficulty in proving it. Where is the priest who married you… without my consent I would like to add. I shall have a few words to say to that gentleman.”
“I do not know his name, Your Majesty. I do not know where he is now. It was a secret ceremony in my lord's lodging.”
“But you must have had a witness.”
“It was Jane.”
“Jane is dead,” I said. “So there is no witness and no priest. But there is a husband, so you tell us.”
“I do indeed,” she said quickly.
“Do you realize that you have committed treason? Do you know of the law?”
“I know it, Your Majesty.”
“You shall be taken this day to the Tower of London and there you will be held. Hertford shall be sent for and we shall hear his side of the story.”
“It will be the same as mine, Your Majesty.”
“Let us hope so. Go to your apartment and prepare to leave.”
She bowed and retired, looking relieved. She had been in a state of acute anxiety and was clearly glad to give up her secret even though it meant that she had become a prisoner in the Tower.
ONE OF MY RIVALS was safely in the Tower but I felt very uneasy about her. There was bound to be talk and fresh urgings for me to marry when she showed that she could produce offspring; and if it were a boy I should be doubly bothered.
There were also rumblings in the direction of that other—and to my mind more dangerous—rival. Mary Queen of France and Scotland was in somewhat desperate straits and that at least gave me some pleasure. The spoilt darling of the French Court was so no longer. The King of France had died at the joust when a splinter had entered his eye and his son Franois, husband of my rival, had come to the throne to occupy it for a very short time. Poor boy, he had always been a weakling and it was said that his mother, Catherine de' Medici, who had a reputation throughout Europe for being one of the most scheming women alive, had, according to certain rumors, hastened his death in order to make way for another son who was completely under her control. Franois, it seemed, like most men, had come under the spell of the fascinating Mary and doubtless would listen to her rather than to his mother. Catherine, however, was one of those who did not find young Mary so enchanting and she was making it clear to her that there was no place for her in France, so there was nothing Mary could do but return to Scotland.
I could imagine how different those dour Scottish nobles would be from the gallant French courtiers and poets who had circulated round Mary. I had seen some of them and I was quite amused to think of her returning to them. On the other hand, I felt apprehensive to have her so close, just across the border, such a dangerous claimant to my throne.
What was particularly galling was that she had had the temerity to emblazon the arms of England on those of Scotland and France, and to style herself Queen of England.
I had to remember that although the country as a whole was against a Catholic monarch, there were a number of ardent Catholics in the land, and if I were to displease them it would not need much to raise protests against me, and there was this woman—supposed to be so fascinating and younger than I—waiting on the other side of the Border.
I knew that I was not unduly disturbed because Cecil was uneasy too.
We had made peace with the French, and there was in existence the Treaty of Edinburgh which set out that those French who had come to Scotland to help the Scots against us must retire; and another clause was that a fine should be paid by Mary for blazoning the arms of England with those of Scotland and France.
This treaty was not yet ratified. Therefore when Mary sent emissaries asking for a safe passage to Scotland, I was incensed. How dared she imagine that I would welcome her presence so close to England when the treaty was unsigned and she was blatantly laying claim to my throne?
When she was made aware of my reaction she pleaded that she had been under the command of her father-in-law, King Henri Deux, and her husband, King Franois; and therefore had no alternative than to call herself the Queen of England. My reply to that was that when the treaty was signed, she should have safe passage. Her excuse then was that she could not sign the treaty until she had consulted with her Scottish subjects, and this she could not do until she reached Edinburgh.
It was clear to me that she had no intention of signing the treaty, and therefore I refused her safe passage.
However, when she was in our waters, a fog arose and she managed to elude the English ships which were searching for her and thus she reached Scotland safely. I was disappointed. I should have liked to detain her in England as my guest. I had thought a great deal about her and not only did I want to know what she was doing but I was also curious to see what she really looked like and if she were as beautiful as she was said to be. Some of the poems those Frenchmen had written about her were too eulogistic even for royalty.
I received a request from her uncle, a member of the famous Guise family whose brothers were the great Duke and that Cardinal of Lorraine who had played such a big part in Mary's life—some said quite a sinister part. This plea for an invitation was from the younger brother but it was one which I found most intriguing. Besides being the Grand Prior of France, he was the commander of the French Navy and I was very eager to meet a member of that family which had played such a large part in shaping the history of France and had at times been more important rulers than the kings.
I was not disappointed. The Grand Prior was a fascinating man. There was little of the churchman about him. He was handsome, possessed of grace and charm, with impeccable manners and just the right touch of foreignness to intrigue me. He was the type of man I had always found extremely attractive.
I made him talk about his niece Mary whom he had known well. Her mother had been his sister and the Guises had taken charge of her when as a child she had first arrived in France. He said she was charming and beautiful and—perhaps because of his beautiful manners—he managed to convey that I was equally so.
I was determined to entertain him royally to show that we in England could treat our visitors with perfect hospitality even when not so long before we had been enemies.
I decided on a banquet to be followed by a ballet.
I had t
he banqueting hall hung with tapestries representing the parable of the virgins of the Evangelists, and with the Grand Prior seated beside me I explained to him that I had been born in the Chamber of Virgins under the sign of the Virgin which brought out gallant remarks about my not being allowed to remain in the single state for long. To which I replied that the choice lay with me.
His eyes sparkled with Gallic passion and he implied that he would greatly love to be the one who made me change my mind.
I laughed with him. I enjoyed this kind of conversation. Robert glowered a little, but he knew there was nothing to fear from this Frenchman. All the same he was becoming more and more possessive and hated to see anyone take up too much of my attention. He was also growing too bold and because I had granted him favors and shown my regard for him sometimes he behaved as a jealous husband might, and although there were occasions when I was amused at this, at others I was not. I suppose it depended on my mood.
The ballet was a great success. It was performed by my maids of honor representing the ten virgins—the foolish and the wise. They carried silver lamps, beautifully engraved, some carrying oil, some empty.
There was spontaneous applause. I glanced sideways at my handsome Frenchman and could be sure that he was enchanted by the sight, so perhaps it was as elegant as he was accustomed to seeing at the French Court.
The ladies set down their lamps and danced most gracefully. They came to the Prior and his entourage and invited them to dance, which they did.
I was ready to dance because I had arranged as part of the procedure that they should beg me to do so and that I should at first refuse and then give way because I wished to honor the Prior.
Later he complimented me on my dancing, my beauty and the elegance of my Court.
I turned to him smiling and said: “You are so gallant, Monsieur, that I love you, but I hate that brother Guise of yours who took Calais from me.”
“Alas,” he said, “that is war. But on this enchanted night let us not talk of unhappy things. I have seen you dance, and I could never be happy again if I did not have the honor of dancing with you.”