by David Field
THE HEART OF A KING
Tudor Saga Series
Book Six
David Field
Table of Contents
I
II
III
IV
V
VI
VII
VIII
IX
X
XI
XII
XIII
XIV
XV
XVI
XVII
XVIII
XIX
XX
XXI
XXII
A NOTE TO THE READER
MORE BOOKS BY DAVID FIELD
I
A pleasant aroma of burning pine logs wafted from the blazing fire in the side chamber inside Hatfield House as Elizabeth Tudor sat silently contemplating the momentous news she had been brought. An hour earlier, the Lord Chancellor of England, Nicholas Heath, had ridden to Hatfield, the chosen residence of Elizabeth, to surrender to her the Great Seal of England and to advise her that following the death of her sister Mary she was now Queen of England.
Since the arrival of that first group, which had included Elizabeth’s Surveyor of Estates and trusted adviser, William Cecil, and her lifelong friend, Robert Dudley, many more had dismounted at the front door, as an impressive number of the nation’s nobility, including many of the previous Council of State, lost no time in offering to swear their loyalty to their twenty-five-year-old Queen.
Elizabeth turned to the man on her left with pleading eyes. ‘What must I do, Cecil?’ she asked.
‘Think you that you have a choice, my Lady?’ Cecil replied. ‘The day has finally arrived and you are Queen of England. That must be the last time I address you in the old way, Your Majesty.’
‘Address me as you see fit, Cecil,’ Elizabeth replied, ‘since it is your counsel I would have, not my correct style and title.’
Cecil nodded towards the dividing doors behind them. ‘You must soon show your face out there and give those assembled their first indication of how the nation is to be governed in the future.’
‘But what should I say?’
‘Whatever it pleases you to say, since the nation will henceforth be governed by your will and inclination.’
Elizabeth gave a slight tut of irritation and turned to the handsome man of her own age seated on her right, placing an urgent hand on his tunic sleeve. ‘Dearest Robert, give me the words.’
‘The last Dudley who sought to place words in the mouth of a Queen lost his head on Tower Hill, Your Majesty. I do not wish to follow my father down that same path.’
‘Fie, both of you!’ Blanche Parry, the fourth member of the intimate group, protested. ‘You have long since assured my Lady that you act always in her interests. Now, when she has most need of your counsel, you fall silent.’
Cecil smiled at this rebuke from Blanche and transferred his benevolent gaze to Elizabeth. ‘I will not presume to give you the words, Majesty, but I will suggest the theme.’
‘Anything, Cecil,’ Elizabeth pleaded. ‘There are those enough already who think me a frivolous girl. How would it be were I to make my first address as Queen in anything less than sensible words, designed to convey my fitness to rule the realm?’
Cecil appeared to think for a moment, then gave his first advice to his new monarch. ‘Few will be persuaded to leave this place until advised of who is to be appointed to what. We may begin with your Privy Council. It must be smaller than it had become under your sister, when every man and his fool seemed to have a say in the nation’s affairs.’
‘How many, say you?’ Elizabeth asked.
‘We cannot be prescriptive of numbers. I would hope to be deemed worthy of a seat in my own right and clearly you must include those senior officers of State such as the Lord Chancellor and the Earl Marshall. Likewise, those consecrated into the sees of Canterbury and York have traditionally been honoured with a place at the table, although if you would accept my well-meaning advice you will limit the number of prelates, at least until the detailed future of our nation’s religion has been agreed. As for the remainder, they must be an astute combination of those you trust and those of whom you are suspicious.’
A look of alarm crossed Elizabeth’s face. ‘I must clasp vipers to my bosom?’
‘At least while they are at your bosom, you know where they are,’ Cecil replied with a knowing smile. ‘Would you rather have them around your Council table, where they bear collective responsibility for such policies as are agreed, or out in the wilderness, where they may plot and scheme unseen?’
Elizabeth nodded at the wisdom of that, then turned to Robert Dudley. ‘If I may have men about me that I trust, why not Robert, my newly appointed Master of Horse?’
‘Should you wish, Majesty, although it may prove necessary to elevate him into some other office, in order to justify his seat in Council.’
‘It shall be done, Cecil, but what of yourself? I once asked you — almost in jest — if you would be my Chief Minister. I am now asking you, as your Queen, to whom you owe every action, every thought and every loyalty — will you head my Council?’
‘I will and with humility, Your Majesty, if only to protect you from those who might be inclined to give you ill advice designed to unsteady your grip on your throne.’
‘Ah yes, my enemies,’ Elizabeth sighed. ‘Who do you propose?’
‘Fortunately,’ Cecil replied, ‘the worst of them are no longer available, since Norfolk and Gardiner have been consigned to the flames of Hell. But there is still the Earl of Pembroke, along with his uncle, the Marquess of Northampton. They served as Gentlemen of the Chamber to Philip of Spain, who has not taken kindly to the recent changes. They say Philip skulks in the Low Countries, awaiting the appropriate moment to invade.’
‘He once proposed marriage to me,’ Elizabeth reminded him.
‘And he is likely to repeat that proposal, Your Majesty,’ Cecil replied, ‘which is one of those matters that we must consider before we summon your first Council. But before that, there is the all-important matter of the nation’s religious observances. You have often expressed to me your desire that all men should be free to worship as they wish, but unfortunately something stronger will be needed to reassure those of your Reformist subjects who have been subjected to such indignities these past five years that they did not suffer in vain.’
‘I must declare England a Protestant State, say you?’ Elizabeth asked nervously.
Cecil shook his head. ‘Not in so many words, but you must be seen to promote the new forms of worship while ordering no reprisals against Catholics. It will not be an easy path to tread, but I will guide you.’
‘What else should be on the table for my first Council meeting, and when shall it be?’
‘We must lose no time,’ Cecil told her, ‘and so tomorrow suggests itself, here at Hatfield. And in answer to your first question, you must give clear guidance on your preferred foreign policy.’
Elizabeth grimaced. ‘Given that I shall provide Philip of Spain with the same answer that I gave to his first proposal of marriage, should he have the effrontery to burden me with another, we should be seeking an alliance with France, should we not?’
Cecil sighed. ‘Would that we could, Your Majesty, but therein lies another difficulty. As you will be aware, the young Queen Mary of Scotland is now married to the Dauphin of France and will one day rule as its Queen also. My spies at the French Court advise me that some months previously she
made a secret will in which her crown of Scotland and her claim to the English throne were both bequeathed to France, should she die without issue. An alliance with France would be unlikely to persuade anyone over there to foreswear that legacy and our only hope of preservation, were we to face simultaneous invasion from both France and Scotland, would be an alliance with Spain. And, of course, Mary Stuart is Catholic by conviction.’
‘So, apart from the matters of religion and foreign policy, there remains the issue of my possible marriage?’ Elizabeth asked, somewhat testily. ‘And the latter two are closely allied, are they not? England’s future relations with the other nations of Europe will depend upon who shares my marriage bed.’
‘Regrettably, it was ever thus,’ Cecil replied quietly, with as much sympathy and tact as he could summon. ‘One of the burdens of royalty is that they may never marry where their heart lies, but must choose a bed partner in the best interests of the nation.’
‘No doubt you have someone in mind already, Cecil?’ Elizabeth asked frostily. ‘And am I to even be consulted in the matter?’
‘Of course, dearest Lady,’ Cecil assured her. ‘My men are even now touring the Low Countries for someone suitable, and should one emerge, you will of course be consulted before any negotiations commence.’
Elizabeth made a disgusted noise, then looked back defiantly. ‘And why the Low Countries, pray tell me?’
‘First and foremost, because of the importance of our trade links with the cloth houses of Flanders. Secondly, because they have persevered with religious reform even in the face of their occupation by Philip of Spain and we must be seen to give them every support, if we are to maintain the loyalty of those of your subjects who follow the Protestant faith.’
‘But thereby further antagonising Philip of Spain?’ Robert Dudley interjected.
Cecil nodded. ‘Regrettable, but perhaps the lesser evil of the two.’
Elizabeth had been thinking deeply and now pierced Cecil with a defiant stare. ‘What if I should let it be known that I do not wish for marriage — to anyone?’
Cecil looked momentarily horrified. ‘What then of the succession, Your Majesty? If there are no heirs, then Mary Stuart will have not just a strong claim to England, but the only claim. England will be in thrall to both Scotland and France and will be plunged back under the rule of Rome.’
‘So I must dedicate my womb to England, is that the best advice you can offer me?’ Elizabeth demanded with obvious distaste.
Cecil nodded and looked down at the table, unable to meet her ongoing defiant glare. At that moment the servers appeared through the rear door that led down to the kitchen via the service stairs, intent on clearing the board, and Blanche Parry rose to her feet.
‘Forgive me, my Lady, but I must see to the matter of dinner.’
‘Dearest Blanche, did you imagine that your fortunes would not rise with mine?’
‘My Lady?’
‘Now that I am Queen, I shall require Ladies, shall I not? Would you consent to be my Senior Lady?’
‘With all my heart, Your Majesty — but what of Mistress Ashley? She was in your service before me and has ever served you loyally and devotedly.’
Elizabeth gave a light laugh as she reached out and kissed Blanche’s hand. ‘Think you that I do not reward such devotion? But Kat has a husband who heads my household estates and would be burdened by his absence were I to keep her constantly by my side, as I hope to keep you. I shall appoint her “First Lady of the Bedchamber”, while finding some accompanying position at Court for Sir John. This means that I shall still require a Senior Lady, who will also be my closest personal confidante and friend. Do you shrink from such responsibility?’
‘Of course not. I shall be delighted,’ Blanche managed, before the tears rolled freely down her face and she rushed from the room.
Cecil also rose and to mask his discomfort in the face of such open emotion sought leave to withdraw from the chamber in order to make the necessary announcement regarding the composition of the new Council of State. This left Elizabeth alone with Robert, whose face had grown solemn.
‘Why so glum, dearest Robert?’ Elizabeth asked.
He hesitated for a moment before replying, ‘In truth, it is all this talk of your marriage. My heart breaks to think that you shall be required to share a bed with a man for whom you may have no feelings.’
‘That will never happen, Robert, let me assure you,’ Elizabeth insisted. ‘Perhaps for that reason, I shall never marry.’
‘Has no-one claimed your heart?’ Robert asked.
Elizabeth replied to the mullioned side window, ‘There is one, but he is married to another.’
‘And if he were not married?’ Robert persisted.
Elizabeth blushed and dropped her gaze to the floor. ‘Have you no duties in the stables? Does my Master of Horse neglect his position on only the second day?’
As Robert bowed and took his leave, Elizabeth watched his departure. Then as the heavy doors close behind him, she whispered, ‘If only I were not Queen and you were not spoken for. But England now has first claim on my affections.’
II
It was time for the progress to Westminster Palace for Elizabeth’s coronation. The procession passed slowly uphill and Elizabeth watched the tableau that Robert had conceived. It was a mock castle gateway emblazoned symbolically with red and white roses in equal numbers, from whose battlements Court musicians perched perilously as they performed specially commissioned fanfares. Above the gates hung a series of portraits, also commissioned specially for the occasion. On the lowest level were the Tudor grandparents, Henry of Richmond and Elizabeth of York, and above them were Henry and Anne Boleyn, who in turn gave vertical birth to Elizabeth herself. The whole was well done and Elizabeth hoped within herself that the imagery was not lost on those who gazed at it — the blood coursing through her veins came direct from the victory at Bosworth.
All the way to Cheapside the narrow jettied buildings had disappeared under a forest of banners, heraldic devices and streamers, while on their doorsteps stood the solemn city merchants adorned in their liveries and hoods. The progress was halted while the Mayor presented her with a gift from the city, in the form of a purse of crimson satin filled with a thousand gold marks.
Elizabeth rose to her feet inside her chariot. ‘I thank my Lord Mayor, his brethren and you all. Be ye ensured that I will be as good unto you as ever queen was unto her people. And persuade yourselves that for the safety and quietness of you all, I will not spare, if need be to spend my blood. God thank you all.’
This drew thunderous applause, to the diminishing sound of which the progress carried on through Ludgate, before the city took its farewell at Temple Bar and the cavalcade came to a halt at Whitehall Palace, where Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage and walked sedately into her private quarters accompanied by Blanche Parry.
‘When do we transfer to Westminster Hall?’ Elizabeth demanded of Robert Dudley, who had been waiting anxiously in the Withdrawing Chamber.
‘Not until the morrow,’ he replied, ‘but what thought you of the pageantry?’
‘It was meet enough,’ Elizabeth replied dismissively, ‘although it must have been very costly.’
‘Your subjects wished no expense spared in their demonstration of their love for you,’ Robert explained by way of justification.
‘Their love of pageantry, you mean — not to mention their happy excuse to get roaring drunk and pick each others’ pockets.’
Robert looked helplessly across at Blanche Parry, who indicated with a slight jerk of the head that he should withdraw to the Audience Chamber before the royal temper revealed itself more fully. Once the opportunity presented itself, Blanche slipped outside to join him and placed a consoling hand on his sleeve.
‘You must not be discomforted, Robert. My mistress has a headache brought on by all the clamour and din of the progress. Added to which, she was nervous as to how her subjects would receive her.’
‘Why nervous? Does she not know that all England is at her feet?’
‘You must make allowances, Robert, given the years in which she feared to lose her head at the whim of her sister. She needs reassurance that she is loved, but she is too proud to admit it. When she is suitably composed, I will come back out and lead you back into the presence.’
‘Do I now require a summons before I may attend upon the lady with whom I was wont to ride through the grounds of Hatfield?’
‘Have patience, Robert,’ Blanche urged him. ‘She has much to readjust to.’
‘As, it would seem, do I,’ Robert replied peevishly as Blanche slipped from his side and re-entered the Withdrawing Chamber.
As the Audience Chamber filled to capacity, Robert sensed someone at his elbow as he continued to gaze down at the courtyard, where even now the royal grooms were taking the bridles of tired mounts as their noble riders dismounted. He turned, and Cecil smiled reassuringly.
‘Well done, Robert. Our mutual friend presented a fine queenly image, thanks to your tireless and gifted efforts.’
‘Yet she is still a girl,’ Robert sighed. ‘A frightened girl, what is more,’ he added as he nodded towards the closed doors leading to the Withdrawing Chamber. ‘She skulks in there with a headache and in one of those petulant moods that she has displayed since childhood, and which now betray her womanly weakness.’
‘I have served her these many years also, in my capacity as her Surveyor of Estates,’ Cecil reminded him, ‘and I know her capacity for loyalty to those who display loyalty to her. She requires but a short period in which to adjust the crown of England on her head and she will become the old Elizabeth once more, you will see.’
As they had been speaking, the heavy doors had been opened wide and out walked Elizabeth, followed a few feet behind by Blanche Parry. There was a heavy rustling sound as brightly hosed knees descended to the carpet and Elizabeth gestured daintily with both hands that everyone should rise. Then she addressed them in a clear voice that gave every indication that she had embraced her new role.
