“She said to me, ‘Is the lady Mary here, that you curtsy? I did not see her.' I was amazed. I said, ‘But I curtsy to Him that made me.' Oh, my lady, I hesitate to say…”
“Please go on,” I said.
“She replied as though in all innocence, ‘But did not the baker make Him?' My lady, she was referring to the bread and wine…”
“I know to what she was referring. It is what she has been brought up to, Lady Wharton. Perhaps we should not blame her.”
“But such sacrilege, my lady… and in a holy place…”
“She was brought up with my brother,” I said. “It is the way they would have things throughout the country now.”
Lady Wharton looked at me earnestly, “Mayhap it will not always be so.”
“Hush,” I warned her. “You should not say such things…even here… even to me.”
We were silent but I could see she was asking herself the same question that I was asking myself.
What will happen next? We could not know. But we knew something must happen soon.
* * *
I HEARD NEWS of Lady Jane. I was sorry for her. She was little more than a child. She had no wish for marriage, and she seemed to be as much in fear of her future father-in-law as she was of her own parents. The girl had some spirit. Perhaps she drew that from her religion, for after that outburst in the chapel I tried to discover more about her convictions and learned they were very strong. She and my brother were alike in that; and misguided though she was in her faith, it might have helped her endure her hard life.
Susan told me she had heard how the girl resisted, declaring she would not marry, and how she had been beaten, starved and locked away until they feared for her health, for she would be no use to their schemes if she were dead.
All the same, the marriage took place in May, and at the same time Jane's sister Catharine—who was younger than she—was married to Lord Herbert, the Earl of Pembroke's son; and Northumberland's daughter, another Catharine, was married to Lord Hastings, son of the Earl of Huntingdon.
There was, of course, a method in these marriages. They were bringing together the most powerful families whose thoughts must be running in one direction. Edward's death was imminent, and they planned some drastic action. I could guess that action meant disaster for me, and I could think of only one solution which would bring them what they wanted; and that was my death.
I must be careful. If ever I was going to achieve my mission, everything would depend on how I acted now.
I wished that I could have seen my brother. I knew that the reports of his illness were not exaggerated; he must have been very sick indeed at that time. I had been so fond of him when he was younger and before religion had become such an impassable barrier to our friendship. I wanted to explain to him that I could not give up my faith any more than he could give up his. I thought I might have made him understand. He had a logical brain; he was extremely learned; but people were obdurate concerning religion. Perhaps I was myself. It was just that one knew one was right. It was a fusion of something divine… difficult to explain. No doubt he believed he had that divine guidance as I did.
But at least we could have talked.
He wanted to be a good king. He cared deeply about the poor and those in distress. He had decided that his palace at Bridewell should be given as a resort for those poor people who had no means of making a living for themselves. He had thought of poor children who, though they might be clever enough, received no education because their parents were too poor to give it to them. The monasteries had been suppressed, and that of Grey Friars was empty. Why should it not be used as a school for poor scholars? It was called Christ's Hospital. I heard it gave my brother great pleasure that he had done these things. Then there were the sick. He would set up a hospital at St. Thomas's where the poor could be treated free. He was sure the people of London would willingly help him to keep these charitable institutions in existence.
He cared for the people. He was good at heart—but oh so sick and weary of life, I knew. And he was in the hands of ambitious men.
I was frustrated. I was sure the rumors of his failing health were true; and that was of vital importance to me.
If only Chapuys had been here to advise me, or even the worthy François van der Delft; Scheyfve tried hard but his English was poor, and consequently he did not always understand what was going on.
Antoine de Noailles, the French ambassador, was a shrewd man, more of a spy, I fancied, than an ambassador; and as I was never sure on whose side the French would be, I felt alone and afraid.
Northumberland was expressing friendship toward me now. He sent me details of the King's illness—not that I always believed them; but his motive was to let me know that he was my friend. Did he mean he thought I should soon be his sovereign? When and if I were, he must have known I should never trust him. When he wrote to me, he addressed me with the full title which had not been accorded to me since my father put my mother from him: Princess of England. But how sincere was he?
Susan had heard a disquietening rumor that the Attorney General, Lord Chief Justice Montague, was at odds with Northumberland concerning a delicate issue.
“It is monstrous,” said Susan, “and I cannot believe it is true.”
She was hesitating, trying to put off telling me because she feared it would be a great shock to me. But at length it came.
“The King has decided to leave the crown not to his sisters, because they are children of marriages whose validity is in question… but to the heirs of the Lady Mary Tudor, sister to his father.”
I stared at Susan in disbelief. “That's impossible!” I cried.
She looked at me steadily. “The crown is to go to Lady Jane Dudley.”
“I… see. This is Northumberland's doing. He will make Jane Queen and Guilford Dudley King. And that means Northumberland will rule over us.”
“Montague says he will alter the succession… and that is treason. But then Northumberland replied that the late King did it.”
“That is not true,” I cried. “The crown passed to Edward after him, and Edward is his son and rightful heir. I am next and after me Elizabeth. That is what my father ordered.”
“So says Montague.”
“Then…”
She looked at me solemnly. “Montague has been browbeaten. He is a poor sick old man, and such do not wish to be embroiled in these matters.
They do not want to spend their last days in the Tower. They want peace, which can come only with acquiescence.”
“It can never be.”
“So think I. The people will not have it.”
“What then?”
“My lady, it will not be for you to choose… but for the people to do that when the time comes.”
“They will seek to destroy me before that.”
“I think we should make plans to get as far from London as possible “But they will proclaim Jane!”
“The people will not have her.”
“She stands for the Protestants.”
“There are many who want to return to the old way of worshipping. Everything will depend on that.”
“Northumberland is determined. He has gone so far he cannot now turn back. It may be that his ambitions will destroy him.”
“We must see that they do before he destroys you.”
I was very sad that my brother could be led so far from his duty as to proclaim Jane heiress to the throne. She was little more than a child but he knew she would uphold the faith which he so fanatically supported. And he was completely under the influence of Northumberland.
My poor little brother! I must not blame him. He was like a poor feeble old man who has never been young. I sometimes thought it would be a happier state to be born poor and humble than under the shadow of the crown.
* * *
I WAS AT HUNSDON awaiting news. I heard that rumors persisted in the streets of London and that people were put in the pillory for saying the King was dead
.
If he were not dead, he was close to death.
I waited in fearful trepidation.
I was relieved when I heard that the Emperor was sending a new ambassador to England. This was Simon Renard, a man of high diplomatic reputation in whom he had great confidence. I was sure that the good and honest Scheyfve would not be competent to deal with events which seemed imminent. The Emperor would want a man to be a match for Antoine de Noailles, the French ambassador, who had recently arrived on the scene.
At last there came a communication from Northumberland. He thought it would be wise for me to come to Court; a similar summons was sent to my sister Elizabeth. I wondered what she would do. She was not in the acute danger which I was in, but nevertheless her position could be precarious.
I left Hunsdon with a small company and moved south, but at Hoddesdon I waited, uncertain how to act.
If my brother died, I should be on the spot. Yet, on the other hand, Northumberland would be there, and I could be in danger.
While I was wondering which way to turn, Susan came to me to tell me that a man had arrived; he had obviously ridden some way and was exhausted, but he made it clear that he must see me without delay.
I had him brought to me, and I recognized him as a London goldsmith who had done some work for me on one or two occasions.
He knelt to me.
“My lady,” he said, “the King is dead, although it is not yet known. I came with all speed to tell you this.”
“Someone sent you?” I asked.
“Sir Nicholas Throckmorton, my lady. He bade me tell you that, although the King is dead, the news will be kept secret for some days…and it would be inadvisable for you to come to Court.”
Sir Nicholas Throckmorton! I knew of him. He was a firm upholder of the Reformed Faith. He had been a close friend of my brother; and I remembered that at the time of Anne Askew's execution he had been one of those who were present when she died; he had gone to give her his support.
Why had he sent this man to warn me? He would not want me to be proclaimed Queen, for he would know that when I came to power my first act would be to return the Church to Rome.
If only it had been one of my old friends, a Catholic like Gardiner, I could have believed him. But Gardiner was a prisoner in the Tower. It would have been to his advantage to see me crowned Queen. But Throckmorton… Why did he warn me? It might be that he knew Northumberland was planning to kill me. There were some who would never connive at murder, even of those of a different faith.
I saw that the goldsmith was given refreshment, and I thanked him.
Whatever Throckmorton's motives, I knew I must not walk into Northumberland's trap. I sent a message to Scheyfve and to Simon Renard, to tell them that I was going to Kenninghall in Norfolk because sickness had broken out in my household. They would know that was a diplomatic excuse.
It might well be that the King was not yet dead and that this was some trap laid for me; but if it had been so, would they have sent the message from one who was known to me to be of the Reformed Faith? It was all very mysterious, but something within me told me that my brother was indeed dead.
I set out with a small party, choosing unfrequented roads for fear we should meet horsemen from London, as I could guess what orders they would have been given if Northumberland really intended to take my life. I would be close to the coast and then, if need be, I could take a ship to the Netherlands.
I very soon learned that I had done the right thing. Soon after I left Hunsdon, one of Northumberland's sons had arrived with 300 horses to escort me back to London. I should have been a prisoner, and that would have meant that my end was imminent.
From Kenninghall I wrote to the Council. I reminded them that my father had made me successor to my now deceased brother Edward and so I was the Queen of this realm. I knew they had worked against me, but by proclaiming me Queen without delay there should be an amnesty and I should bear no grudge against them for the malice I had in the past received at their hands.
They had no respect for me. To them I was a woman merely, and one who did not enjoy good health at that. I had no one to help me, they thought, except a cousin in another country who was too immersed in his own affairs to come to my aid.
They proclaimed Jane Queen, and they wrote to me telling me that I was a bastard and had been named as such by my father in his will I was now citing; and if I were wise I would accept the new regime and my position in it.
“Never!” I cried to Susan. “Now I see the way ahead. I will fight for what is mine and if necessary die in the attempt to seize it.”
“But we must not stay here.”
“No,” I agreed. “Indeed we shall not. I intend to ride on to Framlingham.”
Framlingham Castle is a strong fortress. It belonged to the Howards, and when the Duke of Norfolk had been sent to the Tower—where he still was, because my father had died before signing his death warrant—his goods had been seized and with them this castle, which my brother had given to me.
It was in an ideal position, being close to the coast, which was another point in its favor, for it might be necessary for me to take flight. It had an inner and outer moat running close to the walls except on the west side where a great expanse of lake gave enough protection. The walls were thick and looked impregnable. It would be a formidable fortress, and I was fortunate to have it in my possession.
All along the road people followed me. They had heard the news that the King was dead, and they could not believe that Jane Grey had been proclaimed Queen. They had never heard of her, yet they had all known the Princess Mary since she was a child, and many of them had been indignant at the manner in which her mother had been treated, on account of her being disowned by her husband. I was indeed well known throughout the country and I had always had the sympathy of the people wherever I went.
And I was never more welcome than now. They clustered round me, calling my name: “Long live Queen Mary!”
By the time I reached the castle, several thousands were following me. It was comforting to see them camped outside the castle walls.
My standard was flown over the castle, and I felt my spirits lifting, especially when I was told there were some 13,000 encamped round the castle, swearing to protect me from the false Queen and the man who had set her up. Although my hopes were high, I felt I must not be too optimistic. Those people had only their loyalty and, although that was wonderful, it could not stand up against trained men of an army.
Northumberland had the control of the best in the land, and now he was calling me rebel and uttering threats against me. If he captured me, he could call me traitor; he could have me sent to the Tower and out to Tower Green, where my blood would mingle with that of those who had suffered before me.
In all my euphoria I never lost sight of that possibility.
We were moving fast toward a climax. I thought: The next few days will decide. Northumberland was setting out on the march. He was coming to take me himself. When I looked at my good and faithful followers, I wondered if I had done right. I had not run away when I had been tempted to; and if I failed now, it would be the will of God. I had done all in my power to succeed.
I was resigned. I could not see how my forces could triumph over Northumberland's trained men. I thought of David and Goliath and of Daniel in the lions' den. Men had overcome great odds before, and because God had been with them they had prevailed.
I prayed that God would stand beside me. I must succeed. If I did not, I should have lived and suffered in vain. It would all be so pointless. But if I could do this wonderful thing, if I could succeed in what all Catholics were willing me to, then everything that had gone before would have been worthwhile.
Then it was like a miracle, and after this I believed that God was with me and in my heart I was going to fulfill my destiny.
I was blessed with some loyal followers, and one of the most trusted of these was Sir Henry Jerningham, who had been the first to come to me at
Kenninghall, bringing with him his tenants who, he assured me, were ready to fight to the death for me.
He had followed me to Framlingham, but he did not stay there. He went on to Yarmouth to guard the coast and to raise men as he went.
Northumberland had just taken action to prevent my leaving the country and had sent to Yarmouth a squadron of six ships to intercept me if I should attempt to leave. There had been some fierce gales along the coast, and the ships lay at anchor in the harbor. When Sir Henry arrived at Yarmouth, the captains were ashore; and Sir Henry had an idea that, though they might be Northumberland's men, the crew members might not necessarily be so. He decided to find out in which direction the crews' sympathies lay, so he rowed out to the ships with some of his men and talked to the sailors.
He told me later what he had said. It was, “The King is dead. The rightful heiress to the throne is the Princess Mary but Northumberland is setting Lady Jane Grey on the throne.”
They had never heard of Jane Grey but they all knew who I was. I was the King's daughter, next in succession to the throne after my brother Edward was dead. Then I was the rightful Queen. Did they agree? They did, to a man.
“Then,” said Sir Henry, “will you fight for Queen Mary?”
“Aye, that we will,” they replied.
“But your captains, who are the tools of Northumberland, will command you to stand for Jane Grey.”
“Never,” they cried. “We are for Mary, our rightful Queen.”
“Then come ashore and join the Queen's men,” said Sir Henry.
So they did, and Sir Henry was able to confront the captains with their decision. They could join us or be his prisoners, he told them. They chose to join us.
Not only had the astute Sir Henry brought the seamen to my aid, but with them all the ordnance which was on the ships. It was a great victory.
Sir Henry returned to Framlingham filled with enthusiasm.
“This is a sign,” he said. “God is with us.”
“We shall have to fight,” I said. “Can we do it?”
In the Shadow of the Crown Page 38