In the Shadow of the Crown - Plaidy Jean - Страница 93

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“But it is my mission…my purpose.”

“I know … and a worthy one. But go slowly… feel your way. Leave things as they are at the moment.”

“But I will have Mass heard in the churches.”

“That…yes. But do not press for a return to Rome… not yet.”

He was not the only one to warn me. De Noailles, the French ambassador, called. I did not trust him. He was a very wily man. I had known for some time that he was more of a spy than an ambassador. Most of them were, of course, but de Noailles more than any. I knew he hated the thought of my closeness to Spain. Simon Renard, as my cousin's emissary, was a confidant as well as an ambassador. De Noailles knew this, and I believe he wanted to drive a wedge between us, for France and Spain were perennial enemies. If the French had heard of a possible match between myself and Philip of Spain, they would do everything they could to prevent it.

But this time he was in agreement with Simon Renard. France, like Spain, wished to see England back under the papal authority; but they could foresee revolt in England if it came too suddenly. They had just seen Jane Grey made Queen—albeit for only nine days—and they realized how dangerous the situation was and how uncertain my grip on the crown. There was my half-sister Elizabeth waiting to seize her chance.

I was warned not to be too fervent a papist.

Gardiner was one of the few who supported me, but I remembered that he had made no protest when my father had declared himself Head of the Church; and now that there was a new sovereign who believed that the country should return to Rome, he was in agreement with that. Protestants, who must be deploring his release from the Tower, called him Turncoat and Doctor Doubleface.

At the opening of Parliament Gardiner was the one who announced that it was my intention to return to Rome. That was all, but the views of so many which I received afterward influenced me, and I understood that I must not act too quickly; and nothing more was done about the matter at that time.

In the same Parliament I wanted it known that the harsh laws which my father had set up were to be relaxed. A great many people had suffered under my father's rule; I wanted mine to be more merciful.

I found a certain relief in writing to Reginald because I was sure that, from the Continent, he would be watching events in England with great concern.

“I had thought it would be simple,” I wrote to him. “I thought it could be changed at once. But I have been warned. The Emperor's ambassador has warned me. I must not be too hasty. The people are not yet prepared. But I trust you do not think me dilatory. Please do not think for a moment I am failing in my purpose. But I dare not yet show the people my intent.”

He would understand, I felt sure.

How I wished he were younger—and with me. I felt uneasy about the proposed match with Philip. I wondered a great deal about him. I had heard that he lacked the astuteness of his father. Well, that was to be expected as the Emperor Charles was known as the wisest ruler of the age.

Philip, I was told, was deeply religious. On the other hand, he had led rather a wild life, some said. I had heard that he was sensuous and fond of women. That was what alarmed me. He had been married before, to Isabella of Portugal, who had died three years later giving birth to a son, Don Carlos, who must be about six years old. If Philip was looking for passionate excitement in a marriage, I was not the wife for him to choose. But he was the son of the Emperor and I was the Queen of England, so the match was highly suitable on that score. But was it? The people would not wish me to marry a foreigner. They would have liked me to take Edward Courtenay. Moreover, I could not leave my country to go to Spain, and Philip could not leave his and come here. We should see each other rarely, it seemed to me. I began to think that this marriage with Spain would go the way of all the others.

But Reginald I had known and loved in my childhood. Did it matter that he was older than I? Did it matter that we should be unlikely to have children?

What I looked for was loving companionship, someone to be beside me, to care for me, to cherish me.

Simon Renard was the nearest I had to that, but in my heart I knew that his loyalties lay not with me but with his master, as a good ambassador's should. I tried to assure myself that the Emperor's interests were mine and that we stood together…as we always had.

Now that the Mass was being said in churches, there were bound to be protests. There were rumors of restlessness in several of the counties. From Kent, Leicestershire and Norfolk there were complaints.

My sister Elizabeth was a source of anxiety. She would not attend Mass, and Renard believed that those who wished to keep the Protestant way of worship were looking to her as a figurehead.

“She is very dangerous,” he said.

The Council sent a message to her telling her that she must conform. She did not appear at the ceremony at which the title of Earl was bestowed on Edward Courtenay, using the often employed excuse of sickness.

Renard came to me in some consternation.

“What is this sister of yours planning? She is trying to please the Protestants. While she behaves as she does she is fomenting danger. People will look to her—and believe me, there are many. She should be sent to the Tower.”

“How could I send my own sister to the Tower?”

“Merely by giving the order. I doubt not that, if there was an investigation, something could be proved against her.”

“De Noailles is showing friendship toward her.”

“She will get no good from him. His one aim is to get Mary of Scotland on the throne.”

“Mary of Scotland! How could he believe that possible?”

Renard looked at me with a hint of pity for my shortsightedness.

“Mary of Scotland is the daughter-in-law of the King of France. De Noailles is his servant. The King sees England coming to France with Mary Queen and young Francois King. But depend upon it, de Noailles will use Elizabeth to try to bring this about.”

“Is there no one to be trusted?”

Renard shook his head. “No one but my master, who is your friend and always will be. When you are married to Philip, you will have an even stronger hold on his affections, and you will have a man beside you. But in the meantime we have to deal with Elizabeth. We have to stop these Protestants looking to her as their new Queen.”

“It is treason.”

“Your Majesty speaks truth. So … let us begin to flout these treasonable schemes by turning our attention to your sister.”

“I cannot imprison her.”

“Not until she is implicated. But let us be watchful and begin by preventing her setting up this image to staunch Protestants. She must attend the Mass.”

“I will have her told that she must obey.”

“That will be the first step,” agreed Renard.

Before I could send the order to her, a messenger came from her with a letter begging me to grant her an interview.

I did this.

As soon as she approached me, she fell on her knees.

I said, “You may rise and tell me what it is you have to say to me. I see that you have recovered from the sickness which prevented your attending Courtenay's ceremony. You appear to be in rude health.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. I have recovered. May I say I hope Your Majesty is in good health.”

There was a look of concern on her face which told me I looked ill. She did not say I did, for she knew that would annoy me, but she implied it with a glance of compassion which made me immediately aware of the contrast between us—she so young, so vital, so full of good health, and myself ageing, pale, several inches shorter than she was, so that when we stood, she looked down on me.

I told her I was well. I repeated, “What is it you wish to say to me?”

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