by G Lawrence
Upon entering court, Mary was amused when Knox took his cap off, showing respect, something he had little thought to do before. “This is a good beginning,” she chuckled loudly. “The man made me weep and shed never a tear himself. I will see today if I can make him weep instead.” Many of her advisors were shocked, and counselled her to take care for Knox could still stir trouble. Charged with ‘raising a tumult’ against his Queen, and encouraging others to rebel, Knox conducted his own defence.
Unfortunately Knox was an able debater. The vote was taken whilst Mary was absent from court, and Knox was acquitted. When Mary returned she refused to accept the verdict, and it was taken again, only for the same result to occur. Mary’s half-brother, Lord James, Earl of Moray was the cause. Irritated to see others promoted above him at court, and nervous about Mary moving against Scotland’s premier Protestant, he had secretly worked to ensure Knox would be acquitted. It was the first in a long line of betrayals of his half-sister and Queen. Mary was humiliated. Knox had prevailed and it was clear that dangerous factions were growing at court against her. Although she deported herself well, and sought to make peace with her brother, I believe she was lonely. The reason I had cause to believe this was because she started to write more letters to me.
We had a bond. It was a strange bond, for often we were hardly friends. In many ways we were rivals… but the connection was there. Call us friendly foes, or fractured allies if you will, but there was an understanding between us at that time in our reigns. Mary even wrote that I might suggest some lords I believed suitable to be her husband and she would consider them. My cousin was seeking a friend and ally.
I wish we could have stayed that way; close and yet apart, together and estranged, friend and yet stranger… At that time, we were the closest we had ever been to truly being sisters, as we so often called each other.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Windsor Castle
Winter 1564
Amidst the snows of winter, the Duke of Wurttemberg, envoy of Emperor Ferdinand, arrived to test how serious I was about marrying Archduke Charles. Ferdinand did not trust me. I heard in private he referred to me as “that bastard English fox” which tickled me. But, with the help of de Silva, who was ensuring all parties knew about my fragile sensibilities I was unafraid of these negotiations. I met the servant of the Duke, and told him I believed it had been the Emperor’s fault talks had stalled last time, since he had not allowed his son to visit me. I veered between simpering enthusiasm and blushing modesty. The envoy went away in a state of abject bafflement, although Cecil later assured him I was in earnest about marriage.
“Was I lying, Majesty?” he asked, taking a seat in my chambers.
“Not if you believed what you said, Cecil.” I smiled. “That is the nature of truth is it not? All men see their own.”
“You know what I mean, Majesty,” he said, taking a goblet of wine from Anne Parry. “Are you serious about wanting to wed Archduke Charles?”
“As serious as ever I was, Cecil,” I flippantly admitted, receiving a great sigh in return. “You know my mind, Cecil. I am not made for matrimony. But, old friend, I promise not to die until I am in my grey hairs. You will have me for as long as I can cling to life, and I have always had a talent for survival.”
“Then you must name an heir for the security of the kingdom.”
“I must not name an heir, for the security of the kingdom. Naming an heir will bring division and rebellion.”
“Not naming one may do the same,” he disagreed.
“Not so, Spirit. I know the temper of the English. This is the right way to play this game, I know it.”
*
As wild storms battled the English coastline, political tempests rose in Flanders and the Low Countries. Phillip’s bastard half-sister, Margaret of Parma, ruled there as regent, and since she had come to that position many Protestants in her realm had left, fleeing persecution. Where their father, Charles, had been surprisingly lenient with Protestants, Margaret and Phillip were not. Ever since the reign of my grandfather, England had held a valuable trade agreement with Flanders and the Low Countries. The cloth trade was important to England and, more particularly, to me. It allowed me means to raise income without always needing to turn to Parliament. Since Parliament always wanted concessions before agreeing funds, the wool trade was vital to my personal freedom. I did not wish to lose it.
Reports reached us of increased searches and arrests being carried out, all in the name of stamping out ‘heresy’. The Inquisition, that horrific order Phillip of Spain was so enamoured with, was strong in the Low Countries, and their increasing power was regarded with great fear by those of our faith. Protestants, led by the Prince of Orange, petitioned for leniency, but were often ignored. English privateers and merchants were subject to interrogation if suspected of crimes when on Margaret’s lands, and we heard of arrests of our people occurring with increasing regularity. Determined to retaliate for this persecution, English captains began to attack Iberian ships. Perhaps four hundred English ships were involved, although they did not band together to attack, since that would have looked like a declaration of war. Phillip ordered that these ‘pirates’, as he called them, were to be arrested, their ships seized and their contents confiscated. Margaret sent her ambassador, Christophe d’Assonleville, to me with a long list of grievance against English captains wreaking havoc in Hapsburg waters.
We had to keep the peace, but I was secretly proud of these wily captains. Given Phillip’s involvement in plots against me, I could not think ill of my captains causing him trouble for a change. I also benefited secretly from their efforts, since these captains paid me a portion of their plundered profits for looking the other way, and so had no intention of punishing them. But a queen has to make it appear she is concerned for the dignity of other rulers, even when she is not. Unfortunately, my efforts to persuade the ambassador I would do all I could to stop these men did not convince him. Margaret closed her ports to English vessels and we were in danger of losing the trade. It did the cloth trade in Flanders no good either. English wool was the best there was, and without our raw materials coming to market in Flanders, the cloth trade there collapsed. Many people were made destitute for want of work and income. Angered, disaffected masses opened their hearts to the words of Calvinist preachers, who spoke out against the hard, grasping rule of Catholic overlords. Muttering of rebellion began. Margaret became nervous, keeping to her palaces, rather than travelling through the streets. I told her ambassador I was more than willing to open the trade up again, as soon as his mistress was ready, but there are some people who would rather cut their own arm off than admit defeat, and the Regent Margaret was one of them.
Phillip of Spain took the whole event as a personal insult. In his eyes he had been lenient with me. I was the bastard, heretic Queen. He had more right to the throne than I did, so he thought. Having once been England’s King-consort, had he wished to, he believed, he could have deposed me and taken my kingdom. What a fantasist! The slack-brained, puffed-up, bobolyne believed my reaction smacked of ingratitude. As though I had anything to be thankful for from Phillip of Spain! And besides, Phillip could hardly have known I was not in earnest about stopping my captains from ship raiding. I had made all diplomatic pleasantries required…
As the disaffected numbers grew, and more turned to Protestant preachers, Phillip viewed me as directly responsible for encouraging rebellion and heresy in his lands. We entered a secret war. It was one not fought with ship or sword, musket or cannon, but with spies and secrets. As Protestant rebels grew in the Netherlands, Phillip and his sister came to regard me not simply with suspicion anymore, but with outright hostility. We had to keep the peace on the surface, but under this cloak of pleasantries, spies moved.
As I struggled with Phillip and Margaret, a new maid entered my household. Her name was Mary Radcliffe. She was that same daughter of Sir Humphrey Radcliffe who had been offered as a New Year’s gift to me some years
before. Finally of an age to take a place in my household, the girl arrived at court. She was young, being only thirteen when she entered my service, and an innocent in the ways of the court. Raised on her father’s estates in the country, she arrived with wide eyes and a humble, gentle nature to which I warmed. But there was strength, courage, and conviction under her humility; qualities I admired.
“You will be expected to be humble, gentle, and deport yourself with grace and virtue,” I said, ending my induction speech. “When you marry, you will be expected to keep your children at the estates of your future husband. Child-bearing will not be allowed to interfere with your duties at court. I have few places in my household, and since they are precious, you must make serving me your first priority. ”
“I have no intention of ever taking a husband, Your Majesty,” the girl announced, causing many of my ladies to blink with surprise. “I will follow the example of my Queen and give myself entirely to the office God has chosen me to perform. I believe that, were I to marry, it would distract me from my duties, Majesty. I have no wish for anything come between me and the service I will give to you.”
I was astounded. It might have seemed she was too young to make such a choice, yet in her eyes I could see determination. I sensed we were of the same spirit. I could understand well, where others could not, the freedom that came in remaining unwed. I found her resolve so pleasing that I paid her a wage, something I did not do for every maid in my service. Eventually, she would become one of the women who served me the longest, and also a close and good friend.
Like calls to like, after all…
Chapter Forty-Eight
Greenwich Palace
Winter - Spring 1564
“One hundred and fifty-seven are actively hostile to the policies of your Majesty’s government,” Cecil said, reading from one of his habitual piles of parchment.
“Out of eight hundred and fifty-two, Cecil, I do not consider those bad odds,” I noted, looking out of the window, its panes made dark by the falling rain.
“There are more who are marked as indifferent or unfavourable.”
“Still, Cecil, I am not discouraged.”
The reports we were going over were from my bishops. They had been tasked to conduct a survey of the Justices of the Peace, classifying them according to religion and discovering their sentiments about my religious settlement. Opposition was strongest in the east and north of England, with blotches of resistance in Staffordshire and Buckinghamshire. Without the aid of local law enforcers we could not maintain control, and if too many were allowing transgressors to flout the law, my middle way would never succeed.
All knew there were priests hidden in many houses in England. They knew if you came to a certain door at a certain time and made a certain knock, you could be admitted to hear a Catholic Mass. This, I saw little harm in, as long as it was kept secret. What concerned me was what those priests were up to when not holding Mass. There had been occasions where the Catholic faith had led to problems for my security and for my wellbeing. Secret Masses I cared not for, even if my men did… Plotting and planning against my life, I certainly did care about. I was not willing to believe that all Catholics desired my death but was prepared to admit there were zealots willing to take up arms against me. I could also see, however, the same was true of fanatical Protestants who thought my religious settlement did not go far enough. I was trying, trying very hard to maintain peace in my realm and prevent my Council from implementing extreme measures. Whenever a plot was uncovered, the fire was rekindled in my men. The desire to stamp out Catholics was increasing.
“What will be done about this?” Cecil asked, glancing up with a smudge of ink on his cheek.
“Nothing,” I said softly and turned around. “I am happy with the way the religious settlement advances, Cecil. This is not a war. Justices of the Peace do not spring from the earth, Cecil. We cannot replace all the men who cause you disquiet; we have not the resources. Let them be. They know we have an eye on them.”
“You give them too much leniency,” Cecil said. “You will regret this, one day, Majesty. I feel it in my bones.”
“Let me tell you what I think, old friend. I believe if you constantly act against a sect of people, if you treat them as outcasts, act as though they are the enemy, then you make them into the very enemy you fear. I have said before, Spirit, not to turn my people against me. I will not have this realm becoming a mirror image of the horrors my sister inflicted on those of our faith.”
“I wish I had your faith, Majesty,” Cecil said, his face grim. “But I do not believe Catholics will be so generous.”
“Then we will show more generosity, Spirit, and more, until they understand.”
“Catholics are not loyal to you first, Majesty, but to the Pope. Their hearts will always be papal purple, rather than Tudor green.” I gazed out of the window, attempting to ignore Cecil as he continued his lecture. “Catholics are a threat to you, Majesty, it is only fitting that we keep a close eye upon them.”
“Spirit,” I said wearily, twisting my neck to look at him. “I have tried very hard to ensure my realm does not become a divided nation. Persecuting Catholics will only ensure more rise to take their place. Children will see their parents hurt and humiliated, and they will turn on us. You will breed a new generation opposed to me, and to my government, from birth.” Cecil was shaking his head. He did not think I was correct. “Think of it as a plant gone to seed, old friend,” I said. “Shake the plant, and the seeds fall further; they spread, and more plants grow. Leave the stem untroubled, and perhaps it will simply rot away. That is what I want… a slow and gentle passing of Catholicism. And in its place, the English Church will grow. In one more generation the people of England will be united under one faith.”
“What we wish for, we cannot always have, Majesty,” Cecil warned.
“What a surprise, Cecil,” I said waspishly. “I had never considered such might be the case.” I cracked my knuckles, making Cecil flinch. “I will not sanction persecution of Catholics as my sister did to Protestants. I will not do it, Cecil. If you must keep an eye on certain people determined to make trouble, then do so, but have a reason to do so… and not just a prejudice against them.”
“I am not prejudiced against them,” sniffed Cecil.
“Yes you are, my old friend, and well do I know it.” I sighed heavily. “I believe it is possible for those who still worship in the Catholic faith to be loyal to me. I will not push them to choose between me and Rome. And besides, I have no wish to make further enemies in Europe by hunting down Catholics and putting them to the sword. Leave them be, Cecil. If they have done no harm, then no harm shall we bring to them.”
“Majesty,” Cecil bowed and left, a deep crease furrowed into his brow. I returned to stare at the window. Outside, rain was falling fast and the skies were dark. In the window pane I could see my own ghostly image staring back. I stared into my reflected eyes; black and bold, they twinkled back at me. My mother’s eyes… Sometimes I saw people start when I looked at them for the first time. Robin said staring into my eyes made him feel like I could read his thoughts. Unusual eyes… yes… but I believed they saw much others could not… I shook my head, thinking on all I had struggled with to get my religious settlement passed. It would be easier to believe it was never going to work fully, to give up, but I would not. War is easy to make, evil is effortless to fall into. Sin appeals to the laziness within us. Evil is so quick, so swift.
Peace and unity do not happen overnight. Most things in life, most good things, take a great deal of hard work to achieve. Goodness takes work and diligence. Perhaps that is God’s greatest lesson. If something seems too easy, then that is where evil may be found, waiting for us to give up, give in. I had faith then that I could prevail. I just had to keep toiling.
*
At Shrovetide, my cousin of Scots put on an entertainment. It was not a normal festival of court, it was a sign she wanted to increase the friendship b
etween us, and bring us closer together.
At a grand feast, Mary put on a show for my ambassadors. A boy dressed as Cupid, representing love, led a procession into her hall. He was accompanied by Mary’s choir singing Italian madrigals. After a course of food was served and the diners had washed their hands and faces in silver bowls, a girl representing Chastity entered the hall followed by another procession of singers. As Mary’s servants served the last course, Latin verses were spoken, proclaiming the virtues of a pure mind and radiant beauty. The last figure entered as the feast ended; a boy symbolising Time. Mary’s choir sang of how friendship between England and Scotland would be praised in the future.
Randolph was excited by this, as it presented an opportunity for him to open fresh talks with my cousin about her marriage. But her men intervened. Maitland, Moray and Argyll all argued that the postponed meeting between Mary and me should go ahead before any agreement was reached. Randolph wrote that they were particularly concerned with Mary and me meeting without intervention from any of my subjects, meaning Cecil, of course.