Queen of This Realm (26 page)

“It will make no difference to me, queen or not,” she told me. “You'll still be my Elizabeth and I shall say what I please.”

“You will have to be careful, Kat,” I warned her. “Only fools anger princes.”

“Well, you have always said I was a fool, mistress.”

I boxed her ears playfully. I made her husband Keeper of the Jewels and my dear Parry was Treasurer of the Household. I was not one to forget my old friends.

Even aged Blanche Parry, whose learning I had always valued and who had taught me to speak the Welsh language, was not forgotten. Indeed why should she be? She was very clever and erudite and quite worthy to hold the post of Keeper of the Royal Books at Windsor Castle, an honor which delighted her.

There was another side to my glorious position and that was one—such was my nature—which I awaited with eager anticipation: my ride through my capital city, my acclamation by the people, and my coronation which must take place as soon as possible for there is a belief among the people that a monarch is not a true one until she—or he—has been crowned.

An added delight to these preparations was that they would be supervised by my Master of Horse, and that gave me an excuse to have many consultations with the man in whose company I took such delight.

Robert Dudley was for me the ideal companion. He showed me in a hundred ways that he adored me… and not just as a queen. He had graceful manners so that while he was bold he always remembered who I was. For me it was the perfect relationship. I had always been susceptible to admiration; I greatly enjoyed compliments even when the wiser side of my nature told me they were not true; and in spite of the fact that the thought of marriage was repulsive to me, courtship I found exhilarating. And this was the relationship which was springing up between Robert Dudley and me. He admired me; his looks, his gestures, his words, implied that he was in love with me. He was particularly eligible because he was already married and for that reason I could dally with him to my heart's content.

A week after Mary's death I came to London. What a glorious day it was when I rode through my capital city, and how the people rejoiced! I was deeply moved by their trust in me. They looked to me to bring happiness and prosperity back to the country and I vowed I would do so. This was the end of the Smithfield fires. This was the beginning of the great era which I vowed would be known forever as Elizabethan. I swore to myself that I would never betray them. I loved these people with their honest faces and their shining belief in me. I would show them my love for them. I felt as Joan of Arc must have felt riding into Orleans. She had been sure she had God's blessing—and so was I.

How they cheered me! They came to me with nosegays—some very humble. I took them all and kissed them and that made them cheer more wildly. I gave them to one of my women to hold for me while I tenderly thanked the givers. My people must never think me too proud to speak to them whenever they wished to speak to me. I knew that the approval of these people was necessary to keep me in my place, and that was something I should never forget.

And riding beside me was that incomparable man. How he sat his horse! There was no man in England who could manage a horse as he could. He was rightly Master of Horse. Moreover his office meant that he was often beside me, which was what I wanted as much as he did.

As we came into Highgate we were met by a procession of Bishops; they dismounted and knelt in the road to kiss my hand and offer me allegiance. Bishop Bonner was among them—but when he would have taken my hand and kissed it, I turned away and stared over his head. The watchers noticed and a cheer went up, for he was one of the most hated men in the country,
who had been responsible for sending many Protestants to the stake. I wanted the people to know that I spurned the friendship of such a man.

I knew that I looked splendid as I rode through the City. I was wearing a riding dress of rich purple velvet which was very becoming and I, being especially upright, looked well on a horse. Robert Dudley rode beside me and every now and then our eyes would meet and I was sure mine reflected the exultation in his.

London Wall had been hung with tapestry. The guns of the Tower boomed out and the real ceremonies began. Schoolchildren stopped our progress to recite verses praising me; choirs of children sang in similar vein. I stopped and spoke to them thanking them for their welcome. I wanted to impress on these people that although I was their Queen I was also their friend, and I did not hold myself so high that any should feel they could not approach me. I knew by the cheers and the murmurs of approval that I was taking the right course. It was one I intended to cling to as long as I was Queen.

It was a dramatic moment when I entered the Tower. We paused and there was a deep silence all about us. Many must be thinking, as I was, of that dismal Palm Sunday when I had been brought to this place through the Traitor's Gate. Then I came in great dejection; now I came in triumph.

I lifted my hand and my voice rang out over that silence. “Some,” I said, “have fallen from being princes of this land to be prisoners in this place; I am raised from being prisoner in this place to be prince of this land. That dejection was a work of God's justice; this advancement is a work of His mercy; as they were to yield patience for the one, so must I bear myself to God thankful, and to men merciful, for the other.”

After I had spoken there was a silence of a few seconds and then the cheers rang out.

Deeply moved I went into the Tower.

I asked to be taken to the Bell Tower and to that room which I had once occupied when I was a prisoner in this place.

Robert was beside me as I stood in that room and the past came back to me, and I felt again that despair, when I had listened with apprehension to the sound of a key in the lock and wondered if I was to be led out to the axe.

I was so overcome that I sank to my knees and once more thanked God for His deliverance.

“I was as Daniel in the lions' den,” I cried. “And the Lord delivered me.” Robert knelt with me, and when he helped me to my feet he took my hand and kissed it.

“Come,” I said, “I would walk on the lead as I used to.”

He came with me. In places we had to walk in single file from the Bell to the door into the Beauchamp Tower.

“There were you, Lord Robert,” I cried, “and I used to think of you when I walked along this narrow path and wonder what you were doing in your prison.”

“I thought of you,” he answered. “God knows, I thought of little else.”

I believed him… because I wanted to.

We made our way back and stood for a few moments in my old prison in the Bell Tower and we looked steadily at each other.

“Everything that has happened has led to this,” said Robert.

His eyes were wild with dreams and I thought: If he were a free man I might be tempted to marry him.

But he was not a free man and if he had been at the time of his brother Guildford's marriage, he would not be here now. He was older than Guildford. He would have been the one to marry Jane Grey. But fortune had smiled on him. He had to be thankful for his marriage, and in my more thoughtful moments, so was I.

During the seven days I resided at the Tower, there were many meetings of the Council. I had already shown my disapproval of the religious persecutions in my sister's reign by refusing my hand to Bonner. I longed to reassure my people. What I wanted was to be proclaimed Head of the Church as my father had been and thus diminish the power of the Church of Rome. But I saw at once that I must tread warily in this matter. There could not be a complete turnabout—particularly as when I had been in fear of my life I had outwardly followed the rules of the Catholic Church.

But this brought home to me the need for a quick coronation, because only when I had been appointed and acclaimed Queen could I feel I had a firm grip on the crown.

The day must be right. There must be no evil omens.

I had naturally talked over the matter with Kat and she said we should consult Dr Dee.

Dr John Dee was a mathematician and astrologer whose powers of seeing into the future were highly respected. Kat had often talked of him and she had been in correspondence with him when we had been at Woodstock. He was a Protestant and I believed one of my supporters, which meant, Kat pointed out, that I was going to have a long and prosperous reign for Dr Dee, who could see into the future, would not have been so eager to support me if this were not the case.

I told Kat she was too gullible but I did feel that luck played a great part in survival. At least it had in mine, and I wanted to be sure that I did not choose an unlucky day for the Coronation.

Kat, as a firm believer in fate, was an enthusiastic admirer of Dr Dee, and I did not need much persuasion to share her enthusiasm. It is all very well for those who have nothing to lose to laugh at soothsayers, but for a young woman in my position no possibility must be rejected. Therefore I agreed to see Dr Dee.

He was in his early thirties, a startling-looking man with rather wild eyes which seemed to be looking at something which others could not see, and this inspired belief in him. He had passed through dangerous times, having come within hours of losing his life. He had been suspected of uttering words which could be said to be against Queen Mary, and accused of conspiring to kill her either through magic or poison.

All the man had said was that her health was failing, and any who saw her must have known that. He had been in the Tower about the same time as I had and had shared a cell with a certain Barthlet Green who was one of those who had been burned at the stake for his religious opinions. The ever zealous Bonner therefore suspected Dr Dee of heresy, but the doctor was too clever for his questioners, and he came out of his ordeal a free man.

The fact that he had been imprisoned on suspicion of attempting to murder Mary meant that he was certain to be one of my supporters. I was all eagerness to consult him and, when the Earl of Pembroke presented him to me and Lord Robert recommended him, I was won over completely. He should have a place in my household, I said. It would be an excellent idea to have an astrologer on hand to advise on important occasions.

My Master of Horse would naturally be in charge of all ceremonies and that meant the Coronation; so Robert consulted with Dr Dee who, after spending some time in meditation, came up with the date of Sunday the fifteenth of January as the day best suited to this auspicious occasion.

“January the fifteenth let it be,” I said; and preparations were set in motion.

ALL WAS GOING WELL,
but I had a reminder that I must continue to act with caution. To do what I wanted to do, to make drastic changes, could bring me to trouble. The Catholic priesthood was strong and they had wielded great power over Mary, with Philip of Spain behind them assuring them of success in foisting their religion on the people. They had been about to set up the Inquisition in the country and had indeed returned England in many ways to Rome.

I was going to change that. No foreign power would rule my country; but caution was needed. They were too strong, these priests. They were sure of themselves and I had to show them who was their mistress—but calmly, gradually.

This was brought home to me at my sister's funeral when the sermon was preached by Dr White, Bishop of Winchester. It was fortunate that he spoke in Latin, which so few people could understand. But I understood perfectly, and I did not like what I heard.

He broke into eulogies of the late Queen. He reminded the people that she had had the pious humility to renounce the Crown's supremacy over the Church and bring it back to the domination of Rome where it belonged. St Paul, he said, had forbidden women to speak in church, and it was not fitting for the Church to have a dumb head.

I was growing more and more incensed every moment. How dared he talk thus, particularly when I was urging the Council to proclaim me Head of the Church! How dared he speak disparagingly of my sex when I intended to show the people that they would prosper under a woman as never before!

He then enlarged upon Mary's sufferings; how patiently she had borne her afflictions; how blessed was England to have been given even briefly the devotion of such a good religious woman.

I was watching the congregation. Were they too thinking of great men who had burned at the stake—as I was? Cranmer, Ridley and the rest. Surely they must.

My fury reached its height when he began to speak of me.

Queen Mary's sister was now on the throne. She was a lady of great worth also and they must needs obey her. Then he committed the final insult by referring to me as a “live dog” and Mary “a dead lion”; and implying that they must needs do with what they had, as I was alive and Mary dead.

This was too much. If the people understood what he was saying, harm could be done to me. Fortunately there were few as well versed in the Latin tongue as I, and although the congregation knew he was praising Mary they did not realize that he was denigrating me.

I must curb my anger, but such a man must not be free to speak again as he did. He had flung down the gauntlet. Very well.

As he left the pulpit, I rose and cried to my guards: “Arrest that man.”

They hastened to do my bidding and the Bishop of Winchester and I faced each other. I thought he looked pleased and I guessed he was one of those men who court martyrdom. They were the dangerous ones—religious fanatics, sure of their place in Heaven and certain that those who did not agree entirely with them were destined for Hell—they were the men to be wary of.

“Your Majesty,” he said as the guards seized him, “I must warn you that if you attempt to turn from Rome you will be excommunicated.”

I retorted: “Take him to the Tower.”

And they did so.

When I returned to the privacy of my apartments, I sent for Cecil. He had heard of the arrest of Dr White and knew that it was this matter which I wanted to discuss with him.

I told him everything the man had said. “By great good fortune in Latin,” I told him. “But he cannot be allowed to preach against me in such a manner.”