During Elizabeth's reign England flourished. The Protestant Church of England was firmly reestablished, English ships decisively defeated the Spanish Armada, Francis Drake and Walter Raleigh explored and colonized the New World, and William Shakespeare created some of the most brilliant works of literature in the English language.
Vain and ruthless, headstrong and witty, beautiful and hot tempered, Queen Elizabeth never married. There were rumors of love affairs, one with Robin Dudley, who served Elizabeth as master of the horse. Robin's wife, Amy, died under questionable circumstances, and once again Elizabeth found herself under a cloud of suspicion. When Elizabeth did not marry Robin Dudley, he began a romance with Lettice Knollys, the beautiful young daughter of Elizabeth's cousin Catherine.
Queen Elizabeth died on the twenty-third of March, 1603, at the age of sixty-nine. Like her sister, Queen Elizabeth delayed naming her successor until the last moment. She left the crown to James, son of Mary, Queen of Scots, Elizabeth's cousin. Mary had been the one serious threat to Elizabeth's throne, and Elizabeth had reluctantly put her cousin to death in 1587.
Elizabeth I is buried beside her sister, Mary, in a tomb built for them by the new king, James I, in the Henry VII Chapel in Westminster Abbey. The two sisters and queens share this epitaph:
Consorts both in throne and grave,
here rest we two sisters,
Elizabeth and Mary,
in the hope of one resurrection.
Other Young Royals books available now
Mary, Bloody Mary
A wrenching riches-to-rags story
Mary Tudor is a beautiful young princess in a grand palace filled with servants. She is accustomed to sparkling jewels, beautiful gowns, and lavish parties. Then, suddenly, she is banished by her father, King Henry VIII, to live in a cold, lonely place without money, new clothes, or even her mother.
At first it seems like a terrible mistake. Even when her father has a public and humiliating affair with a bewitching woman, Mary remains hopeful. But when he abandons her mother, then marries his mistress and has a child with her, Mary begins to lose faith. And now, dressed in rags, she is summoned back to the palace to be a serving maid to her new baby stepsister.
Told in the voice of the young Mary, Carolyn Meyer's first book in the Young Royals series is a compassionate historical novel about love and loss, jealousy and fear—and a girl's struggle with forces far beyond her control.
ABA's Pick of the Lists
An ALA Best Book for Young Adults
A Kirkus Reviews Children's Book of Special Note
An NCSS-CBC Notable Children's Trade Book in the Field of Social Studies
A New York Public Library Book for the Teen Age
Turn the page to see Mary's dramatic change of fate....
THIS WAS MY FIRST TIME in the palace in nearly five years. It was a shock to realize how far I had fallen! Five years earlier I had still been Princess of Wales, still accorded all the honor and privilege of my rank. Now I was nothing, nobody, no better than a servant myself. I had not been invited because I was wanted but because tradition required it. And it was an opportunity for Queen Anne to show her power over me.
When we arrived my ladies and I were given poorly furnished chambers in a remote part of the palace that I had never seen before. I was hungry but had no chance to send for some bread and ale because I was summoned to the queen's chambers.
"I shall call upon Lady Anne when I've had a chance to refresh myself," I told the messenger.
"Her Majesty the queen commands you to pay your respects at once," the servant insisted.
I followed the servant to the queen's chamber of presence.
Since the beginning of her eighth month of pregnancy, Anne had been required to stay in these chambers with a few waiting women whose unhappy duty it was to keep her entertained. Tapestries and hangings covered every window and even the ceiling; the chamber was oppressively dark and stifling. Anne reclined awkwardly on a couch piled with silk pillows. Behind her a pair of wide oak doors opened to an inner chamber, similarly draped and darkened. In the midst of that second room stood a magnificent bed. I recognized it at once—it was my mother's bed, given her by my father at the time of my birth. Now it would become the bed of estate where the next royal birth would take place. My mother's bed! How dare Anne? How dare my father! From the looks of Anne, bloated and sallow, the birth was imminent.
"So," Anne said in a shrill voice, "Lady Mary has arrived."
I stood stock still. Lady Mary! Not "Princess Mary" or at the very least "madam," but a title that was no title at all, as though I were the daughter of the lowest, most impoverished baron instead of the daughter of the king of England.
Anne's onyx black eyes glittered in her pallid face. "Have you no manners?" she demanded. "Then we shall have to teach you some! Kneel!"
I hesitated. This was the first time Anne and I had come face-to-face, the first time Anne had spoken to me directly since the night of my now-abandoned betrothal to the French king. I had been only a child of nine then and had understood nothing.
Slowly I sank to my knees.
Anne glared at me. "I have only contempt for you, Mistress Mary. You and your wretched, scheming mother. You are nothing but a bastard, you know—a mistake! The king's mistake. But now the king has corrected his error. His one true heir lies here, with me"—she stroked her huge belly—"and within a matter of days the future king of England will be brought forth. And you shall be his servant. I think that will be a good lesson for you, changing his napkins and cleaning up his messes. It will teach you your place in the world."
"And if it is a daughter, madam?" I asked. Immediately I regretted my boldness. I knew it was a mistake as soon as the words had left my mouth.
A silver goblet that had stood on a table at Anne's side flew past my head and clattered to the floor. Red wine splashed everywhere. I scarcely blinked.
"It is a son! It is a son!" Anne screeched.
Doomed Queen Anne
She risked everything to become queen
Though born without great beauty, wealth, or title, Anne Boleyn blossomed into a captivating woman. Without friends, and jealous of her sister's position in the English court, Anne used her wiles to win the heart of England's most powerful man: King Henry VIII. But she was not satisfied with only the king's heart. Anne was determined to replace Queen Catherine as his wife ... and be crowned queen of England. So she promised Henry she'd do the one thing Catherine could not—bear him sons.
Anne persuaded Henry to defy his court, his religion, his family, and his subjects to crown her queen. But she didn't count on the one thing that would leave her completely and utterly alone: She could control Henry, but she could not control her fate.
Carolyn Meyer's third novel in the award-winning Young Royals series tells Anne's fascinating story in her own voice—from her life as an awkward young girl to the dramatic moments before her death.
Turn the page for a glimpse at the peril of Anne's bid for the throne....
ONE MIDSUMMER EVENING as I supped in the maids' chambers, only half listening to their ceaseless chatter, a royal page appeared. The maids fell silent as the boy delivered to me a note. Written in French, it bade me come at once; it was signed Henricus Rex—Henry the King—and bore the king's seal.
He wanted me now. I had no opportunity to change my gown, arrange my hair, or do any of those things which a lady might wish to do in preparation for such an interview, no time to become unnerved by this new course I sensed my life was about to take.
I followed the young page, not to the king's privy chamber, as I had expected, but to an even more private chamber beyond it. King Henry sprawled at his ease behind an enormous table. It appeared that he had been playing draughts, for there was the black-and-red checkered board, but no sign of an opponent. The chamber was empty, save for the king and me.
I dropped to one knee, advanced, dropped a second and then a third time, reverencing the king as he require
d. "Your Majesty," I murmured, my eyes lowered modestly. This was the first time I had been alone with him. Slowly I raised my eyes and waited, my heart racing.
King Henry leaned toward me, his elbows on the table, his blue eyes lively, his smile winning. "Lady Anne." He breathed my name as though it were a sigh.
"Your Majesty," I said again, still kneeling. I allowed his gaze to wander over me from head to foot.
"You do please me greatly," said King Henry, and raised me up.
"It pleases me much to please you, your Majesty," I replied.
"Good," he said. "And would it please you just as much to be the king's mistress?" he asked, stroking his close-trimmed beard.
There was no mistaking his meaning, and I had long prepared myself for just such an invitation.
I also understood that, should I yield, I would immediately lose my advantage. I knew well what became of the king's former mistresses—my sister, for one; Bessie Blount, for another: When he tired of them, as he always did, they were discarded and then married off to a willing courtier. I was certain that many ladies had been approached in this manner by the king; I doubted that any had either the desire or the will to refuse what he asked of her. Who would have dared?
I did.
I dared because I wanted so much more from King Henry. I wanted the love of his heart and his soul, which I knew would be much harder to win. Once again I was a little girl on a storm-tossed ship, bound for an uncertain future—frightened, but also exhilarated.
Now I drew a careful breath and replied with feeling, "It flatters me to believe that Your Majesty thinks so highly of me. But surely Your Majesty understands that it is no small thing that he asks. My virtue and my honor are of the greatest value to me, and I cannot risk the loss of them."
My heart was hammering loudly as I made this bold claim of virtue and honor. I clasped my hands to still their shaking and waited for the king's response.
King Henry stared at me in amazement. "Are you spurning me, Lady Anne?"
I was trembling, but my voice remained strong. "Spurn the wishes of my king? Never! Surely, I could wish for no higher honor than the undeserved attentions of the handsomest and most godly man in all Christendom! But, I must weigh the cost to my reputation. I beg you, my lord, give me time to think on it."
"Then I bid you good night, madam!" said the king brusquely. "We shall talk another time."
"Nothing would please me more, Your Majesty," I murmured, and repeated the ritual, kneeling three times as I backed out of the king's chamber. As I ran through the several passageways on my way back to the maids' apartments, I could not help smiling to myself. The score: Lady Anne, one point; King Henry, naught.
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