Страница 35 из 145
I look back on that period of my life and shudder. The days seemed never-ending and even my books could not entirely comfort me. It is true that I did not hate Sir Henry Bedingfeld as much as I had at first, for I did gradually come to realize that he was a good man, the sort I respected and would have been glad to have on my side. Of course he was a fanatical Catholic and he regarded me as a lost soul, a heretic; but I began to understand that the rigorous guard he placed on me was as much to ensure my safety as to prevent my escape.
This was brought home to me on the occasion when Sir Henry had to leave Woodstock for a few days. He put a trusted man in charge of the place, which meant in charge of me, and it was while he was away that an attempt was made on my life.
I felt certain that Gardiner was behind it. I suspected that man of every villainy. He was ambitious like many churchmen, and if ever I came to the throne he would know that he could never have a chance of reaching the power he sought. Therefore he had every reason for wanting me out of the way, and it would have been foolishly careless not to have suspected that he would have some plan for getting rid of me.
A man named Basset came to Woodstock with the story that he was from the Council and that he had an urgent message for the Princess Elizabeth which he had been instructed to deliver into her hands only.
Fortunately for me, Bedingfeld had left me in the charge of a man who proved worthy of his trust, so he and several of the guards accompanied Basset to my chamber. Basset said he came from the Queen and had a party of men waiting to escort me to her. The waiting party was interrogated while its leader was absent and a bigger parcel of ruffians it would be hard to find.
Basset was told that a messenger was being sent to Sir Henry Bedingfeld to tell him of their coming and as he was with the Queen they must wait at Woodstock until permission came from Sir Henry.
Basset said he would explain to his men and they would find quarters for the night. What they actually did was make off with all speed, knowing that they would be betrayed as soon as Bedingfeld heard of their arrival.
I often wondered what Basset and his men intended to do to me. It did not require much imagination!
My jailers became even more careful than they had been before. It was fortunate that they were. Otherwise I might have been burned in my bed, for my enemies had even managed to get their spies into the household.
This must have been the case because a fire broke out in the chamber immediately below mine, and I could easily have been burned in my bed with no means of escape, if it had not been discovered in time. It was clearly a fire which had been deliberately started.
To be the victim of those who wished to murder me put me in a state of continual tension.
Meanwhile events were moving fast, for Philip of Spain had arrived in England. I could well imagine all the pomp and ceremonies; and I did hear accounts of what was going on for there were messengers going constantly between the Court and Woodstock and the servants gossiped. I had always made a habit of talking to them and establishing an easy relationship with them so I was able to piece together scraps of news and fit them into a complete picture.
Philip had arrived at Southampton on the twentieth of July. The Queen was at Winchester for she had decided that the marriage should take place there; the ceremony would be conducted by the odious Gardiner, of course; she would not have Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, because she did not accept his religious views, which were of the Reformed Faith. Men like Cranmer must be feeling very uneasy now that Philip was actually here. The alliance could not bode well for him, nor for any who were not of the Catholic Faith.
Philip had been given a great welcome and to row him ashore the Queen had sent a barge lined with tapestry of the richest colors and seats of gold brocade. When he mounted the steps at Southampton he was met by a deputation sent by the Queen which included all the great noblemen in the land. Arundel immediately presented him with the Garter and a magnificent horse was provided for him. Philip himself was dressed very simply in black velvet making, so I heard, an austere contrast to all the glitter, and which gave him a special dignity. There were the usual eulogies which fall to royal brides and grooms, regarding his personal appearance, but secretly I heard that he was far from prepossessing with scanty sandy hair, a lack of eyebrows and lashes and watery little blue eyes—all this not helped by an expression of intense gloom.
My thoughts were with my sister. She had fallen in love before she saw him and, knowing Mary, I guessed that nothing would deter her from continuing in that blissful state once she had decided on it. He had sent her magnificent jewels worth fifty thousand ducats, I heard, and his Grand Chamberlain, Don Ruy Gomez da Silva, who carried them to the Queen, was as dignified as his master.
The weather was appalling—driving rain and wind, which was not to be expected as it was July, and, said those who were against the match, it was a bad omen. Philip however braved the elements and came in slow dignified Spanish fashion from Southampton to Winchester.
Apparently the meeting between the pair was entirely amicable. I imagine Mary did not see Philip so much as a man as an important part of her plan to bring England to Rome. As for him, how did he see Mary? He saw a crown, I was sure, and the domination of our country. I felt angry and frustrated. If there should be a child of this union my hopes were dashed forever. And apart from that I could not bear to see my dear people forced under a rule which they did not want. There would be no tolerance. I knew that people were persecuted with more violence in Spain than had ever been known in England. Would Philip and his Inquisition, with a pliant Mary, be able to subdue a proud people?
On the twenty-fifth of July, which was the festival of St James and therefore very appropriate, he being the patron saint of Spain, Mary was married to Philip.
I listened to the gossip. Both Mary and Philip were pleased with the marriage. Their first duty would be to get an heir and the prospect of that filled me with so much melancholy that only then did I realize the greatness of my hopes. Ever since my father's death I had lived with the idea that one day I could come to the throne, although at that time it had seemed most unlikely, with Edward and Mary to come before me, both of whom might have offspring.
When Edward had died and there had been merely Mary, my hopes had risen, for Mary had been aging then and had no husband. As the time passed my hopes grew to a dedication. Every observation I made taught me something. I followed events as far as I could. I weighed up what had happened and considered what might have happened. I loved my country passionately. I loved the people as neither Edward nor Mary ever had. I was fitted to rule as neither of them had been.
And now Mary was married; she loved her bridegroom and she was not too old to bear a child, and that child would stand between me and the throne.
Meanwhile I remained a prisoner. If they could prove something against me I should be led to the block as my mother had been, as Katharine Howard and poor i
But so far they could prove nothing against me, and I was determined that they should never have a chance of doing that, so the impulse came to me to write down my determination somewhere where it could be read by people for years to come. I took the diamond ring from my finger and scratched on the windowpane:
“Much suspected—of me.
Nothing proved can be