In the Shadow of the Crown (50 page)

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?”

“We will, Your Majesty,” he said.

“Northumberland has his army with him.”

“There will be many loth to turn a hand against the Queen.”

“But they will do so because he has the might.”

“We shall have the might, Your Grace. We will have stout hearts, and it is God's will that will prevail. The men will feel more loyal if they see you. You must come out and review your troops. I think you will be pleased with them.”

So I rode out and, as Sir Henry had said, I was amazed at the numbers who had mustered to my aid.

As I rode along the lines, they called, “Long live good Queen Mary!” My heart was lightened and I thanked God that I had been strong so far, and I
prayed for His help and guidance that I might work His will and succeed in the task which I was sure now He had laid down for me.

There was comforting news. I had always known Sir Henry Bedingfield was loyal to me, so I was not greatly surprised when he arrived with his followers. But I was delighted to see that Lord Thomas Howard, whose grandfather, Norfolk, was still in the Tower, and all the chivalry of Suffolk, were flocking to my banner.

Northumberland was universally disliked. He had removed Somerset, who, although not liked by the people, was preferred to himself; he had forced Lady Jane Grey to marry his son Guilford and had had the temerity to set her up as Queen. He had gone too far.

His mistake was not to realize the power of the people; and those who had worked with him were now weary of his despotism; people were envious of his power. He himself was confident of victory and rode at the head of his army. But no sooner had he left London than the citizens noisily stated their true feelings.

They wanted no Queen Jane. A granddaughter of King Henry's sister she might be, but there were King Henry's own daughters to come before her. They had always shown affection for me, for I had been the ill-treated one, and they remembered my mother's sufferings.

“Long live Queen Mary, our rightful Queen!” they shouted.

I am not sure when Northumberland realized that he had gone too far and that defeat stared him in the face. He had risked a good deal for he had scored such successes in the past that he believed he could not fail. Now his friends were turning against him, and he had made his fatal miscalculation in reckoning without the people.

I was being proclaimed Queen all over the country.

There came a messenger from London. On the morning of the 16th a placard had been placed on Queenhithe Church stating that I was Queen of England, France and Ireland.

The Earls of Sussex and Bath were among those on their way with their forces to Framlingham… not to oppose me but to pay homage to me as their Queen.

I could not believe this. It was a miracle. The Council was declaring for me. Pembroke, so recently allied with Northumberland through marriage, had taken over command of the Tower and the Army—and he was for me. All over the land men were turning to me; even those who had been against me were now proclaiming me Queen. They might have stood with Northumberland so far, but when he had set up Jane Grey as Queen he had tampered with the line of succession, and they were with him no longer.

I wished that I could have been present when they brought the news to
Northumberland. He was at Cambridge and could not then have realized how utterly he was defeated. He had known that the battle had not been the easy conquest he had anticipated, for he had dispatched a messenger to France to plead for troops to be sent to his aid. How did he feel—the powerful man, the greatest statesman of the day, some said, son of that Dudley who had gone to the block to placate the people because of the taxes my grandfather had levied in his reign—how did the great Northumberland feel to be brought so low?

He had staked everything to gain the greatest power a man could have— to rule the country. Jane and Guilford were to have been his puppets. But, like so many of his kind who failed, he had reckoned without the people, the ordinary people, living their obscure lives, who en masse were the most formidable force in the world. What a mistake to discount them! And he had tried to foist on them a young and innocent girl as their queen. I doubted Jane had had any say in the matter. Northumberland had intended to rule through her, and he had failed miserably.

He must have come to a quick decision when he saw his ambitions crumbling about him and his dream evaporating. He went into the market square. He mounted the steps to the high spot where he could be seen by all, and he lifted his hat in the air and shouted, “Long live Queen Mary!”

It was his admission of defeat, and he took it bravely. And as he mounted those steps calling my name, he must have seen himself mounting the block and laying his head upon it, as he had seen so many do—mainly his enemies and due to his command.

And now they were with me! Henry Grey, Jane's father, had himself torn down her banner at the Tower; he was shouting for Queen Mary.

How I despised these men. I remembered Anne Boleyn's father, assisting at the christening of young Edward. They turned their coats to meet the prevailing wind with no sense of shame.

And young Jane… what of her? She would be my prisoner now. How could I blame her and her young husband? They were the innocent victims of other people's ambitions. Northumberland had forced them to do what they did, and now he was calling for Queen Mary!

News was brought to me that Northumberland had been arrested. My greatest enemy was now my prisoner.

MY CAPITAL WAS WAITING to receive me. I would never have believed that victory could come so easily, and I chided myself for my lack of faith. This was what I had been born and preserved for, and the will of God was worked through the will of the people.

My first duty was to have the crucifix set up in Framlingham Church. It
would show the people I would lead them back to God through the true religion.

We must make our way to London.

I set out with a mighty company. How different from when I had left Hunsdon such a short time ago in such stealth.

I rested at Wanstead, and while I was there I was visited by a distraught Duchess of Suffolk. I was amazed to see this proud and imperious lady so frightened and beside herself with grief. I thought it must be on account of her daughter, Jane, that poor innocent child who had been used by her ambitious family.

She prostrated herself at my feet, which in itself was amusing, for she had been one of those who had proclaimed my birth not to be legitimate, King's daughter though she had had to accept me to be.

But I was sorry for her. She was a mother and she must be suffering deep remorse now that her daughter was in the Tower.

I said, “Rise, Lady Suffolk. I know what you must be suffering. Your daughter is so young, and I know that she was forced to do this wicked thing by others.”

“Oh, my daughter,” she cried. “She has sinned beyond redemption. I could not ask Your Majesty to forgive her. Her sin is too great. I plead for the Duke, my husband. He is ill, Your Majesty. I fear for his life if he remains in that cold cell. They have kept him there for three days… and I fear that he can endure little more.”

I felt anger rising within me. I could understand a mother's love for her child, but I remembered what Jane had said about the harsh treatment of her parents, and Mrs. Penn's indignation at the violent marks on her body.

I said, “Your husband is a traitor. He was partly responsible for setting your daughter on the throne. It is not Lady Jane who is to blame. She merely did what she was forced to. And you complain because your husband has spent three days in the Tower!”

“He has acted wrongly, Your Majesty, but he was led into doing evil acts. Your Majesty, I beg of you…he will die. Let him be sent to me. Let him remain your prisoner but let me nurse him. I beg of you. It is a matter of life or death.”

Life or death! That was how it was for most of us. She was weeping bitterly, this proud woman, and there was no doubt that her grief was genuine.

How could I refuse her? I did not admire her as a mother, but there was no doubt that the woman loved her husband.

I thought: What harm can it do? She is crying for mercy, and I must be merciful. He will die in the Tower. He will die in any case. He is a traitor, but I do not want his death on my hands.

I said, “He shall be taken from the Tower to be nursed by you.”

She fell on her knees once more; she kissed my hand and blessed me.

WHEN IT WAS KNOWN what I had done, there was consternation.

Sir Henry Jerningham pointed out to me that the man I had freed was the father of Jane, and he had helped to set her up in my place. He had worked close to Northumberland, and they had planned to rule the country together through those two young people. Had I forgotten that?

“I have sent him out of the Tower to be nursed by his wife,” I said. “He is a very sick man.”

“Sick with fear, Your Majesty, to see his wicked plans frustrated.”

“I wish to be a merciful Queen,” I told him. “Grey shall not escape. Justice will be done.”

They shook their heads, and they trembled for me.

It was the same with Simon Renard. I heard later that he had reported to the Emperor that I should never be able to hold the crown for I was too governed by feminine sentiments.

I did not care. I knew Suffolk was ill, and I had been moved by his wife's pleading.

I prayed to God that night. “You taught me to be merciful, O Lord, and I believe that is how You would wish me to act.”

I SET OUT ON my ride into London. I was thirty-seven years old—no longer young, but not too old for a Queen. I had some experience of life behind me. I was no beauty, but I was not ill favored either. I was thinnish and of low stature. I wished that I had been taller—but I looked well enough on a horse; I had my father's reddish hair, and my complexion was as fresh as his had been in his youth, but mine had not coarsened as his had—I presumed because I had lived more abstemiously. Dressed in purple velvet, I looked quite regal, I believed, seated on my horse and surrounded by my ladies.

My sister had come to Wanstead to meet me. She was to ride into London beside me. I was sorry for this in a way, and yet I could not forbid it. She was so much younger and in such blooming health. She was much taller and about twenty years old—in her prime, one might say. The people cheered her and she did everything she could to win their approval, waving her hands and holding them up in acknowledgment of their greeting. She had very beautiful hands, and I had often noticed how she used every opportunity to bring them into prominence.

These people had shown their affection for me; they had proclaimed me as their Queen, and I believed that meant that they wanted the old faith
restored. Had they forgotten that Elizabeth had refused to attend Mass? Were these Protestants who were cheering her? Or was she so popular because she was young and attractive to look at and showed such pleasure in their applause? Of one thing I was certain: wherever she was, she would bring a certain lack of ease to me, a certain puzzlement, for I should never understand the workings of her mind.

I kissed all her ladies to give an impression that I was pleased to see her but, as we rode along, I was thinking that I should have been happier if she had stayed away.

As we approached Aldgate, I saw streamers hanging from the houses; children had been assembled to sing songs of welcome. It was a heartwarming sight. The streets had been freshly swept, and members of the city crafts had gathered there, clad in their traditional dress. They looked very smart, and they were smiling and waving their banners with enthusiasm.

We were met by the Mayor. Lord Arundel was present, holding the sword of state. They joined the procession with a thousand men—and so they led me to the Tower.

This was London's welcome and meant that the city regarded me as the rightful Queen.