Queen of This Realm - Plaidy Jean - Страница 40

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It was wonderful to be at Court, where I was received with honor as the Queen's sister and heiress to the throne. Chiefly I was gratified by Philip's attitude toward me. I saw plans in his eyes when they alighted on me. He was not insensible to my youth and charms, and with the crown and all that meant I must have seemed to him a glittering prize. I would never marry him, but there was no harm—indeed there was every necessity—in letting him imagine that I might.

Mary was very simple. She was delighted that Philip showed such regard for me. She thought he would be suspicious of one who had been a heretic. Nothing of the sort! I had the impression that he was just waiting for the death of his wife.

I was, therefore, a little taken aback when he once more introduced the subject of Philibert of Savoy. Then I began to wonder whether I had correctly assessed his motives. If I married… what then? Who would take the throne when Mary died? Was he planning to set himself up as King and sole ruler of England? It could not be. Even his Spanish arrogance must realize that that would never be allowed.

I was adamant. I would not marry. I clung to the virgin state, I declared. Marriage was entirely repulsive to me.

He sighed and said his friend Philibert was the best of men. I reminded him that Philibert had been making love to the Duchess of Lorraine, so it seemed to me that, friend of Philip's though he was, he was something of a philanderer and I would have no mind to take such a husband, even if I had not resigned myself to the single state.

He made no sign but I heard afterward that he told Mary she should insist on my marrying. She was the Queen and I was the subject. There again I was mystified as to his real intentions.

But that was Philip, as I was to discover later—much later—he was devious and as dangerous as a snake.

There was yet another insurrection. A certain Sir Thomas Stafford had been at the Court of France where he had received some favors from Henri Deux who, it was believed, had urged him to attempt rebellion in England. The French King was growing more and more alarmed at the friendship between England and Spain which since the marriage of Mary and Philip had become very close indeed, Mary being completely under the domination of the husband she adored.

Stafford landed on the coast of Yorkshire and took Scarborough Castle with ease. He tried to rally men to his banner by declaring that, in marrying Philip, Mary had passed over the country to Spain, and that the Spaniards were about to land and complete the enslavement. The Inquisition was preparing to land on our shores. This was, of course, the way in which to arouse the people, but Stafford was not clever enough. His mission was known before he arrived for there were many spies at the Court of France.

An army had been sent up to Yorkshire under the Earl of Westmorland, and in a short time Stafford's men, who were helpless against trained soldiers, were routed and Stafford himself captured, and very quickly sentenced to the barbarous death of hanging and quartering which took place in May at Tyburn.

Fortunately I was not implicated in this, although the aim of every plot was to depose Mary and I was naturally the one to step into her place.

Philip was restive as he always was in England. His heart was in Spain; moreover I think he wanted to get away from the cloying affections of Mary. I knew that her sickly looks were repulsive to him, and whereas he might have stayed longer if she had not tried to force her affections on him, as it was he was very eager to escape.

Philip took advantage of the Queen's annoyance and that of her ministers in the interference of the French over Stafford to get further English help for Spain against the French; and having succeeded in this I fancy he felt that his visit was not altogether without results. He had not married me off, but he had succeeded in involving England in his conflict with the French.

I was sorry for Mary after he had gone. She was so pathetic, so ill, so lacking in feminine attractions; and in her heart she knew that he had no love for her at all. Strangely enough it was to me she turned in those months which followed. After all, whatever conflict there was between us, I was her sister, and she was a very lonely woman. She had no friends of whom she could be sure, and her only hope of close contact with her own was through me.

I knew this and I tried to be tender to her. I could not exactly love her. It was not easy to love Mary; and in those last days I could never be in her presence without thinking of those people whom she had sent to the stake in the name of religion. Indeed, if one rode out into the streets of London one could not but be aware of the pall of smoke which hung over Smithfield; and I was often sickened when I fancied I could detect the odor of burning flesh in the air. Yet she did not suffer any qualms about the terrible suffering which was being inflicted in her name.

She was such an unhappy woman—but perhaps she should have been. If only she had not suffered so in her youth and seen her beloved mother so humiliated; if she could have married when she was young and had children, she might have been different. She was never one to show her affection— except with Philip. She was more honest than I. I could act and imply friendship when it was wise to do so. I could go to Mass, but when the time came I was going to stand firm as the Protestant Queen. All this I could do; but Mary never could. She would never dissemble and would always stand by what she considered to be the truth.

We talked now and then together in a sisterly fashion. There was a possibility, she said, that she might yet have a child.

I said I hoped she would be blessed.

So I did, but not with a child. Sometimes I would wake in the night and start up thinking that my sister had been delivered of a beautiful boy. Then I would come back to reality and I knew in my heart that she would never bear a healthy child. I knew too that time was running out for her.

I hoped it would not be long. I wanted to be Queen while I still had my youthful freshness, which was important to me. I was paid many compliments but I did realize that the nearer one came to the throne the more glowing they would be. I liked to think of myself as beautiful but in my franker moments I knew that while I was pleasant to look at, I lacked that beauty which many Court ladies possessed. I had my bright hair and my eyes were large and tawny which made them rather striking, but my eyebrows and lashes were pale. I needed long dark lashes and well-defined brows to show off my eyes. I was tallish and straight and elegant in figure and my white skin and hands and tapering fingers were my greatest beauty. So I was fair enough and being royal, I could be called a beauty. But when I rode through the streets to be acclaimed as Queen I did not want to have lost my youthful freshness.

I spent my time between the Court and Hatfield, and during that time Hatfield was still something of a prison because I was guarded night and day and no one came and went without its being reported to the Queen.

Sir Thomas Pope was always trying to divert me and I was often allowed to hunt. When we journeyed from one place to another we went in search of the hart and Sir Thomas always made that something of a ceremony. I would have my retinue of ladies dressed in white satin seated on their palfreys and my yeomen all in green, and I of course would be splendidly clad and the privilege of cutting the throat of the captured animal always fell to me.

Gustavus Vasa, the King of Sweden, was asking for my hand for his son Eric and again I felt a mingling of excitement and determination to refuse, but it pleased me very much to be asked in marriage though I had every intention of refusing.

The relationship between my sister and myself had so improved that when I went to Richmond to visit her she sent a royal barge for me with an awning of green silk decorated with fresh flowers—a mark of her respect for me and my position as her heiress.

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