The Lady Elizabeth (48 page)

“He is the finest match in Christendom,” Renard pointed out. “He is the heir to a huge empire compassing much of Europe and stretching even to the Americas. He is famed for his wise judgment, his good sense, his sound expertise in government, and his moderation.”

“Looking at him leaves me in no doubt of all that,” Mary said, “but forgive me, I must ask this. My ambassadors abroad have sent other reports that he is cold and cruel.”

Renard shook his head ruefully.

“They have been misled by the Prince’s enemies,” he declared. “He is not cold. He loved his late wife, and when she died in childbirth, he was grief-stricken.” Since then, he had been living with a mistress, but Renard refrained from telling Mary that. Such things were regrettable, but not unusual. It was the way of the world: Great men married for duty and bedded their mistresses for pleasure.

“As for being cruel, madam, I can only think that your ambassador was of the new religion and offended by witnessing what follows upon those great acts of faith over which the Prince has sometimes presided.” Mary had heard much of these acts of faith—autos-da-fé, they called them, the long religious ceremonies staged by the Spanish Inquisition, at which large numbers of heretics and lapsed converts were exhorted to recant and perform acts of penitence; those who refused would be sentenced and handed over to the secular authorities to be tortured and burned at the stake immediately afterward.

“As a good daughter of the Church, Your Majesty knows that such punishment is a heretic’s last chance of salvation,” Renard continued. “Thus, far from being cruel, His Highness has shown himself most merciful in his zeal for the Inquisition.”

“Of course,” Mary agreed. “And he would be just the helpmeet I need to persuade this godforsaken realm to return to the true faith. Yet I have one other reservation, I fear.”

“Tell me,” Renard encouraged her.

A slow flush infused the Queen’s cheeks. “The Prince is but twenty-six, and I am thirty-seven. He might feel he is too young for me.”

Renard laughed dismissively.

“The age gap is a trifle, madam. His Highness is an old married man with a son of seven! And he is as eager for this marriage as you are. You have only to say the word.”

“I don’t know…” Mary sounded doubtful and confused. “Believe me, I
am
inclined to this marriage, but I fear my council’s reaction. I am aware that many still cling privately to their heretical beliefs, and there are many too who would resent my taking a foreign prince as my husband. The English are very insular, Simon, and suspicious of foreigners. Some of them even think the French have tails!”

“Now, that I can believe!” he chuckled. “But I would counsel that you broach the matter gently.”

“I cannot broach it at all,” Mary said, her blush deepening. “I cannot face discussing such a delicate matter with so many gentlemen.”

“Then I will ask my master the Emperor to make a written approach to them,” Renard said soothingly, wondering how on earth Philip would fare when it came to more intimate matters. “He will be tactful and accommodating, rest assured.”

“I’m not sure…,” Mary said again. “This is all too…too—”

“What is it you fear?” Renard asked softly, regarding her sympathetically.

“It is marriage itself,” Mary confessed, hardly daring to meet his eyes. “I have never felt that which is called love, nor have I ever harbored voluptuous thoughts. My father King Henry proposed many suitors for me, but nothing came of it, and in truth, I never thought much of marrying until God was pleased to raise me to the throne. I assure you, as a private individual, I would not desire it. But…” Her eyes strayed to the portrait and lingered there. “That is why I must leave it all to the Emperor, whom I regard as a father.”

“I understand, madam,” said Renard avuncularly. “My master will do as you wish.”

Elizabeth entered the council chamber white-faced and nervous, knowing full well why she had been summoned. There they sat, in a line along the far side of the table, these hard-bitten, influential men, with many of whom she was well acquainted. Some were staunch Catholics, some had gladly reverted to the old religion, while others, she knew, paid mere lip service to it, but all were desirous of keeping their places, which was why they were ready to turn on her now.

As she seated herself in the chair facing them, the Lord Chancellor, Bishop Gardiner, frowned at her, bushy eyebrows furrowing above his big nose.

“Madam, you should know that Her Majesty is becoming less tolerant of those who persist in heresy,” he began, “and she is particularly angered by your own failure to attend Mass.”

“My lords, I had understood that Her Majesty had made it clear she would not compel or constrain men’s consciences,” Elizabeth stated, determined to hold her ground.

“That is her position until Parliament determines upon the matter,” Gardiner conceded. “But is it her hope that her subjects—and above all her heir—will embrace the true faith as fervently as she does.”

“We understand that the Queen has several times asked you to attend Mass with her, but that you have refused,” the old Duke of Norfolk, her great-uncle, barked at her. Age had not softened his martial manner.

“I refused on the grounds of my conscience,” Elizabeth protested, “and if the Queen’s Grace insists on constraining her subjects to obedience, then why did she issue proclamations leading them to believe otherwise?”

As soon as she had said it, she wished she could have bitten her tongue out. In her anger, she had allowed her customary caution to desert her and had gone too far, certainly. Yet she had but spoken the truth. What other answer could she have made?

The lords’ faces were grim. Some were muttering to one another.

“That is a rude and disrespectful response,” Gardiner told her, his expression severe, “and this council censures you for ignoring the Queen’s wishes, not only in this matter of the Mass, but also for repeatedly failing to heed her honest requests that you put aside your plain garb and don more suitable attire.”

“Is it now a crime to dress soberly and modestly?” Elizabeth retorted tartly. “Forgive me, I did not know.”

“You know very well why you wear those clothes, and it has nothing to do with modesty. You do it so that the Protestants know you for their friend, to the despite of the Queen.”

Elizabeth took a deep breath. Angry though she felt, it would do her no good to antagonize these ill-disposed men further.

“I should like to see the Queen and explain myself to
her,
” she said. “I pray you, ask her to grant me an audience.”

Mary kept her waiting for two days before the summons came to attend her in the long gallery at Richmond. During that time, Elizabeth had had leisure to reflect on her situation and discuss it with Kat.

“I fear that a compromise is called for,” she said. “Much as I wish to be seen as a friend to the Protestants, I dare not risk incurring the Queen’s wrath by openly adhering to my faith.”

“There’s no point in putting yourself in danger,” Kat agreed. “The Queen started out by promising tolerance, but she seems to be changing her tune, and things can only get worse if rumor speaks truth and she does wed Prince Philip. Marry, we live in perilous times.”

“We do indeed,” Elizabeth replied, her heart sinking at the prospect of the coming confrontation.

“Do not trust her!” Renard warned, his eyes glittering in the flickering candlelight.

Mary was disturbed by the vehemence in his tone.

“She is my sister,” she said slowly, “and so far she has shown herself loyal. It is only in this matter of religion that she has fallen short.”

“And there lies her treachery!” Renard declared. “That troublemaker, the French ambassador, is stirring up dissidents and heretics in a bid to discountenance my master the Emperor and prevent Your Majesty from marrying Prince Philip. The Lady Elizabeth is in league with him, I am certain. I have even heard it said that the papists are having their turn, but the Lady Elizabeth will remedy all in time.”

“I cannot believe it of her,” Mary said, twisting her rings anxiously.

“Do not underestimate her, madam,” the ambassador warned. “She seems to be clinging to the new religion out of policy to attract and win the support of the heretics.”

Mary rose and walked to the latticed window. Below her, the wide, moonlit courtyard was empty. Most people in the palace would be abed by now, but she knew she herself would not sleep well tonight with this vexing matter of her sister on her mind.

“You have evidence that she is intriguing against me?” she asked.

“Not as yet,” Renard admitted. “Of course, I may be mistaken in suspecting her, but it is safer to forestall than to be forestalled. She is clever and sly, and possessed of a spirit full of enchantment. In my opinion, madam, she is so dangerous that she should be sent forthwith to the Tower, or at the very least away from court, for her presence here is undoubtedly a threat to Your Majesty’s security.”

Mary stared at him.

“You truly think she wishes me ill?”

Renard shrugged. “She is ambitious. She might be persuaded to conceive some dangerous design, or others might do so in her name.”

“I confess that the same considerations have been in my mind too,” Mary said. “I find it hard to believe that
she
would go so far, but I have no doubt there are others who would not scruple to set her up in my place if they could. But without any evidence against my sister, I cannot put her in the Tower. No, I will not.”

She began pacing back and forth.

“All would be solved if she consents to convert to the true faith. That is my earnest desire. And it is necessary too, for she is the heiress to the throne.”

“Until Your Majesty has a son,” Renard said gently.

Mary blushed.

“When that happens, I shall not need to fear my sister anymore,” she observed. “But for now, I must do my best to bring her back to the fold and disappoint her heretical followers. I see her tomorrow. She has asked for this audience because she is clearly worried about her position. I, in my turn, shall use it to press home my advantage.”

Elizabeth threw herself on her knees before the Queen. She had built up and up to this meeting, and now that the moment had come, she could not stop shaking, and was even near to weeping; the fact that it happened to be her twentieth birthday, and that there would be no merry celebration this year, only made her feel worse. The presence of the Imperial ambassador, a dark, menacing basilisk standing behind Mary’s chair, made her even more fearful.

“Well, Sister,” Mary said, her face unsmiling, her eyes wary, “we both of us know why I have sent for you.”

Elizabeth’s heart sank still further. It was not difficult to summon up a tear.

“I see only too clearly that Your Majesty is not well disposed toward me,” she faltered, “and I can think of no other cause except religion. Yet I beg Your Majesty to excuse me on this issue, as I have been brought up a Protestant and was never taught the doctrines of the ancient religion.”

Play for time, she had told herself.

“I entreat Your Majesty,” she went on, “to arrange for me to take instruction from some learned man, and be given books to read, so that I might know if my conscience will allow me to be persuaded that way.”

Mary’s face had lit up in joyful hope, but Renard was looking askance at Elizabeth, his eyes quizzical. She was in no doubt that he knew her to be insincere.

“I am heartily gratified to hear that,” the Queen said. “You shall have your instruction, I promise it.”

“I thank you, madam,” Elizabeth murmured, head bowed.

“It is my dearest wish that you embrace the true faith,” Mary told her. “I assure you, Sister, that if you come to Mass, belief will surely follow. It is my pleasure that you attend the service in celebration of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary tomorrow.”

Elizabeth fell back on a tried-and-tested excuse. She placed her hands on her stomacher and assumed an expression of suffering.

“Alas, madam, I fear I am unwell. I am plagued by the most fearful pains in my belly.”

Both Mary and Renard were frowning.

“You are well enough to come here and plead your case,” Mary said firmly. “God must not be put off with excuses. I expect to see you there.”

As Elizabeth emerged reluctantly from her apartments, with Kat and her ladies in tow, she was dismayed to see curious courtiers lining the gallery that led to the chapel. If it was bad enough having to attend Mass, it was even worse having people knowing about it, and some of those watching her with disappointment and disapproval in their eyes were of the new faith.

“Kat, my stomach is aching so,” she said loudly, putting on an air of suffering and staggering a little. “Oh, oh.”

She was still sighing when she saw the Queen’s procession approaching, and she moaned slightly as she dropped in a curtsy by the door to the chapel.

“Good morning, Sister,” Mary said, raising her up. “I trust you are feeling better this morning.”

“No, madam,” Elizabeth groaned. “I am ill.”

Mary looked exasperated.

“You will feel better when you are spiritually refreshed,” she said briskly and sailed on into the chapel. Elizabeth clutched desperately at her stomach with one hand and tugged at the sleeve of Susan Clarencieux, the Queen’s chief lady-in-waiting, as she passed.

“Pray rub my stomach for me, Susan,” she groaned.

Mrs. Clarencieux glared at her, well aware of the game she was playing.

“Madam, we must take our seats, as the Mass is about to begin,” she hissed, standing back so that Elizabeth could precede her. Seeing no way of escape, Elizabeth walked slowly to her place, deliberately fiddling with the tiny gold book that she wore at her girdle, the one that contained the prayer of her brother Edward, and she was praying that those of the late king’s persuasion would take her gesture as a signal that she remained staunch in her faith.

She had not been to confession, of course, so she could not receive the bread and the wine, and when the Host was elevated, she closed her eyes and bent her head, as if in prayer. But this was enough to satisfy the Queen, who embraced her warmly afterward and presented her with a costly diamond, a ruby brooch, and a rosary of coral. Elizabeth put that last object away in a drawer, determined never to wear it. Nor did she turn up for Mass the following Sunday.