by G Lawrence
I was well aware there were Catholics in England hiding priests in their houses and hearing Mass. It mattered not to me as long as they attended the Protestant service in public and remained loyal to me. My Privy Council wanted to root out all such priests and punish the families hiding them. I did not see the need for this, unless those hiding priests were too open, too obvious, and therefore demonstrated open defiance of my laws. I had never been enamoured with the idea of persecuting Catholics. It too closely echoed my sister’s actions for comfort. I believed that to gradually allow Catholicism to die out was the better plan. That way created less martyrs, and less fury in Catholic hearts, and would lead to less resistance in the future.
Waldegrave and his priest, however, had been discovered acting in open defiance of my laws and I had little choice but to order their arrests. Waldegrave’s household, including his wife, were brought to London for questioning. Their house was searched. A letter was found in Waldegrave’s chests, which held information about the imminent arrival of the papal envoy. It voiced hope that greater freedom for Catholics would come from the visit of Ambassador Martinego, but also held details which suggested it was not based on mere rumour. Cecil was absolutely assured this was all part of a plot to remove me, restore Catholicism, and place Mary of Scots, or Phillip of Spain upon my throne. He also believed de Quadra was involved.
“But why do you suspect de Quadra so?” I asked Cecil. “You must know I cannot move against Phillip’s ambassador unless there is overwhelming evidence against him?”
“And such evidence I do not have, Majesty,” Cecil admitted, folding his hands behind his back and swaying on his heels. “But it seems strange that the writer of this missive would be so well informed about the nuncio and the Council of Trent. Hardly anyone in England should even be aware of it. The information in this letter suggests it came from the court itself. My first guess would be de Quadra. You know he has been in contact with leading Catholics in England, Margaret of Lennox not least amongst them, and I believe he is plotting with them. Your cousin is set to return to Scotland, Majesty, and it is but a slight distance from her borders to those of England. Spain would like to see a Catholic on your throne, and since there have been suggestions that your cousin should marry Don Carlos of Spain, they could take back their power over this country through Mary Stewart and a union with Spain.”
I could not deny Cecil had a point, but I wondered if this plot was as well-developed as he seemed to believe it was. It is all too easy to slide from speculation to paranoia. “I will allow that it is indeed strange the author of this letter is so well informed, but there is nothing firm enough for me to act on here, Cecil.”
I looked out of the window with a heavy heart. Rain was pelting the glass and the skies were grey. Although nothing had been said in this letter which directly spoke of my death, the implication in achieving a Catholic succession was that I would have to be removed… That I would have to die. There were those in England who wanted me dead. I had known this before, of course… but to read it implied here was another matter. My heart tore with loneliness. To feel the hatred of others, at a time when you have lost a person, or two people in my case, that you loved dearly, is most painful. I had lost Parry to Death. I feared I had lost Robin to ambition.
“On the basis of this, I will put it to the Privy Council that we cannot allow the papal nuncio into England,” I said. “Although this is the result I wanted, this is not how I wanted it to come about… Waldegrave! What an ass! Why could the man not take care? I will have to detain him, and that will stir up anti-Catholic feeling, and rile ardent Catholics. I wage peace, whilst others stir war!”
“You should be thankful that we caught Coxe when we did, Majesty.” Cecil bobbed up and down on his feet. His expression was grave, but I could tell he was pleased with himself. “Worse could have transpired if these letters had been allowed out into the world.”
I narrowed my eyes at Cecil. That little jig he was doing made me vastly suspicious. “And was it just chance, then Cecil? That this man was arrested just now, just as I required a way out of allowing Rome’s ambassador into England?”
“I did not set him up, Majesty,” Cecil replied smoothly. “If that is what you are implying. The papers were found on the priest and that led us to Waldegrave. That is how it happened, but I will not deny the exclusion of the Bishop of Rome and his envoys from this country are in England’s interests, as well as yours.”
“And I suppose you just happened to have men who just happened to pick this man to search? Come, Cecil, I have enough men about me who take me for a dolt. You knew this man was a Catholic priest, just as you knew he was carrying something inflammatory before you had him searched.”
“We have been watching certain households, Majesty,” Cecil confessed. “Those who pose a possible danger to you, and to England. But we plant nothing, and we interfere not if they keep the peace and act within the law, as you have commanded, Majesty. If they chose to do neither of these things it is not our fault.”
“Guilty until proven innocent…” I said thoughtfully. “It goes against common law, Cecil. It is a treacherous road to take. The most moderate of men can become a danger if he feels himself watched and hunted. Do not force my people into cages forged of their own beliefs, Cecil; you will make them my enemies.”
“Ei incumbit probatio qui dicit, non qui negat, the burden of proof lies upon him who affirms, not he who denies,” Cecil said. “And I will have proof against any I move against, I assure you, madam.” Cecil spread his hands. “And, as you see here, Majesty, the priest and his master were both working against you. They flouted the law, and were speaking of your death, not only in passing, but in planning. And… you asked for a way out of meeting with the nuncio, Majesty, and I have given you one.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Be sure to run your plans past me in future, Cecil.” I sighed. “Waldegrave must go to the Tower for having the Catholic Mass said at his house, and for his priest and those letters… But I will not order his execution, Cecil. Hopefully, in time, he will learn that I mean to be generous and will leave the Tower wiser than he entered it. Hopefully, also, it will allow secret Catholics in England to see that I mean to deal fairly with them, and will encourage them to keep the peace.”
“Although I will not contradict you, Majesty,” Cecil said. “But I doubt that will happen. Waldegrave was imprisoned once before, as I am sure you remember, by your brother for refusing to carry out the King’s wishes by stopping your sister from hearing the Catholic Mass at her house.”
“But he served my sister well and loyal, Cecil.”
“Because she was a Catholic, my lady,” Cecil said gently. “And you are not. He will not serve you. He will only cause more trouble. Such men as he, they serve their faith, not their sovereign.”
“I will not take his head, Cecil.” I stood and walked to the fireplace, putting my hand on the ornately carved surface, running my fingertips over the pale, cool marble. “He will go to prison, but he will not be treated harshly. I want that rightly understood.”
The Privy Council duly refused entry to the papal ambassador, Martinego, and all negotiations for an English presence at the Council of Trent were broken off. This was what I had wanted, but the manner of achieving this aim was not as I would have wished. Although I had not executed Waldegrave, his arrest and confinement in the Tower were much talked about. I did not wish to stir up people within my realm against one another. I had a feeling that this affair would do this. I had to limit the damage.
I released a report of the incident, to tell the facts of the matter, and to show I had generously allowed Waldegrave to live despite his crimes. I hoped this would help my people to understand that if they lived within my laws, and did not try my patience, we could all live together in peace. Waldegrave was taken to the Tower and given rooms there, but the rooms for noble prisoners in the Tower were comfortable. He was given servants to attend him, as befitted his station, and was made awa
re I did not intend to execute him, so that the shadow of Death did not hang over him. His wife and family were released after questioning, and allowed to visit him under supervision. I had hope that, given time, he would be released and would choose to live more wisely than he had done before. My hopes were in vain, for some months later, Waldegrave died in the Tower. I had his death investigated, and was told he had been unwell for some time, and his passing was natural. Many Catholics did not believe this, of course, which only made my task harder.
Robin was deflated. His plans with de Quadra had gone awry. If he could not ensure this first promise and get England to attend the Council of Trent, what good were his others? Robin was no closer to getting me to the altar, and the Hapsburgs were no doubt displeased that his influence over me was not as strong as he had boasted. I marvelled that Robin did not wonder, as I had, just how impeccable the timing of Coxe’s arrest had been. Perhaps Robin did suspect that I had something to do with it, for he was aloof with me. Our recent troubles had now led to both of us now being wounded. Our injuries could only be healed by talking, by coming out into the open. Neither of us, however, was ready to reveal our dark and secret doings. I, because I feared driving him away, and he, because if he confessed all he had been up to with de Quadra, I might well lose my ever-changeable temper, and arrest him for treason.
I watched Robin’s downcast face with satisfaction… for a while. Then I pitied him. I came to think his present sorrow was enough to satisfy me. Perhaps I did not need to go further.
Mayhap he has learnt his lesson now, I thought, and will cease to plot when it is clear he has not the skill for it.
As ever, when it came to Robin, I was blind.
Chapter Eighteen
Whitehall Palace
Spring 1561
Later that season the Earl of Sussex returned from his post in Ireland. No doubt encouraged by my favourite, who was more than willing to bribe men to act for him, Sussex proposed that the Order of the Garter should unite with one voice, and petition me to marry Robin.
Arundel, Norfolk and Lord Montague swiftly stepped in and altered the proposal to say that the Queen should marry, but did not state to whom. They had no desire for Robin to rise above them. Word got out and people started laying vast wagers that I would marry Robin before the year was out. The rumours were so intense I came to believe my favourite was conspiring again, although in a less dangerous manner, by stoking the flames of gossip. I had small time to worry on this, as I was preparing for the pleasurable task of deflating that pompous old pig’s bladder, de Quadra.
I had called de Quadra to me to go over the reasons for the refusal of the papal nuncio, and also to let him know, in an obvious, yet careful way, that he was suspected of having dealings with Waldegrave. If the ambassador of Spain was found to be in league with traitors, we could end up in a serious and embarrassing situation. I was not about to insult Spain and risk war by revealing de Quadra’s plotting, but I was not going to let de Quadra get away with all he had been up to, either. Cecil had discovered further links between de Quadra and Catholic zealots in England, and indications which suggested de Quadra had indeed been in contact with Waldegrave. I had no evidence; all I had were shadows and suspicions. But I was sure he was involved, and if de Quadra was involved there was a fine chance Phillip of Spain was, too.
For the sake of peace, I wanted to warn de Quadra off before he did something I would be unable to ignore. After all, the man was about as subtle as a hungry bear in a pigpen. England had not the men or resources to face Spain in all-out conflict. I wanted de Quadra stopped before he did something obvious and stupid, but I was also ready to have a little diversion too. The past months had been hard, painful and distressing. And there was nothing, nothing more pleasurable than pulling the carpet from under the feet of the Spanish Ambassador and watching him stumble…
I informed de Quadra of Waldegrave’s arrest, noting with satisfaction as a greyish sheen appeared on his cheeks as I spoke. How close had he been to this plot? Too close, I believed. I went on to tell de Quadra that an English presence at the Council of Trent was not to be, and the nuncio would not be allowed into England. “It is most unfortunate, my lord ambassador,” I said evenly. “But with such events, with men willing to flout my laws, and follow those of Rome instead, I cannot continue with this meeting, nor would England’s presence at the Council be advisable at this time. My men are greatly worried for my safety, as many of the intercepted letters spoke of Catholic sorcery and witchcraft used against me. I could not allow an English envoy to attend the Council, if this is the general attitude of Catholics towards their most peaceful Protestant neighbour, and I certainly cannot allow an envoy to come to my court under such circumstances.”
I paused and fixed my eyes on him, watching a tiny bead of sweat work its way from his vile, ragged beard to his rubbery neck. “And it would appear that something was leaked from discussions at court into the public sphere,” I continued. “For some of the imprisoned bishops and papists in London were going about saying I have promised to restore Catholicism in England at the insistence of Lord Robin.” I stared into his eyes. “Some say they heard this from your household, my lord ambassador. Whilst I have a mind to believe such a scandalous accusation could not possibly be true, I must, in good conscience, put this to you and hear your answer.”
De Quadra swallowed. The bead of sweat leapt from his Adam’s apple and down onto his dark doublet where it vanished. That is the benefit of black fabric, if one stands in the right light it can hide even the deepest sweat brought on by exercise or ill-ease… A fine colour, therefore, for an ambassador up to no good. But even the darkest of fabrics cannot mask the whiff of fear. I could smell de Quadra. Smell him squirming.
“This is pure malice on the part of Protestants who despise me and any other Catholic, Majesty,” de Quadra at last managed to splutter.
“I am sure of your innocence, ambassador, of course,” I purred. “But we had this tale not from Protestants, but from those who uphold the Catholic faith still in their hearts.” He went to answer and I held up a hand, a gesture that always annoyed him. I continued, trying not to chuckle at his fear and frustration. “However, I am sure such rumours are false. I do hope our continued difference in religion will never affect your master’s feelings for me, for always have I had peace and love in my heart towards my good brother.”
“The Emperor has ever loved his dear sister, and would never think badly of her for being… of a different mind to him.” De Quadra had begun to relax, thinking we would exchange polite platitudes and end the conversation here.
It was time to startle him again.
“Is it true, my lord ambassador, that your master promised Lord Robin Dudley his friendship and support if the Catholic faith was restored in England?” I looked at my gown, shaking it of imaginary dirt as though what I had said was of small importance.
De Quadra’s eyes flashed wide. His pale cheeks caught fire. Somehow I kept my face straight. “His Majesty has promised nothing to Lord Robert, nor has he asked any conditions from him,” De Quadra lied smoothly, although he spoke just a touch too fast to be truly convincing. “But hearing, by my letters, of the goodwill Lord Robert professed to the restoration of religion, His Majesty ordered me to thank Lord Robert and praise his good intention, whilst promoting a continuation of the favour his Majesty has always shown him.”
“I do not think Lord Robert has ever promised you that the Catholic faith would be restored here in England,” I insisted. I wanted to know if those words had passed from Robin’s lips. I wanted to know if he had only insinuated this, or if he had actually said it. To insinuate was one thing. To actually say he would restore the Catholic faith was another. I needed to know how far Robin had been willing to go.
“Yes he has,” de Quadra protested. “If you would send for him, Majesty, I believe he will confess as much in your presence, as you yourself have promised exactly the same thing.”
“Only on
certain conditions, and never absolutely,” I replied. It was true I had toyed with de Quadra on the issue of the Catholic faith, and had often enough said there was but small difference in the Christian faiths, which I did believe. But I had never said I would restore Catholicism. That was in de Quadra’s head.
Quadra smiled; a greasy expression crept up his lips like oil rising to the surface of water. “I do not remember conditions, Majesty,” he said, “but perhaps my memory is at fault.”
Or your ears, I thought with annoyance. Perhaps you should trim the lank hair which wriggles from them, to better hear me, ambassador?
“I would urge you, Majesty, not to miss this opportunity, granted by God, to pacify and tranquilise your country for good,” de Quadra went on. “The restoration of the Catholic faith would win you many friends in Europe, Majesty, and restore your own people’s love to you.”
“I have ever been assured of the love of my people, and it will be for me to know my people’s hearts, my lord ambassador, and do what is good for them. Such is my God-given right as Queen. This interview is at an end. You can go, Your Eminence, but as you seek to counsel me, I would urge you to be more guarded with your words and choice of company, if you wish to remain in this post and at my court, that is.”