by David Field
‘So much history,’ Gardiner complained wearily. ‘How do you manage to keep it all in your head?’
Norfolk smiled. ‘It has been my means of survival these eighty or so years, Stephen. If you know who is related to who, who owes a favour to who, or who may speak favourably of you to persons in positions of power and influence, then you survive. Otherwise you will not last long in this turbulent world that we inhabit.’
‘And Courtenay survives because of his links to the throne?’ Gardiner asked by way of clarification. ‘Surely that makes him the perfect English suitor for Mary?’
Norfolk looked up at him with a cold stare. ‘With a treasonous background such as his? A Yorkist throwback? A proven enemy of the Tudors? A man with the stench of the Tower still about him? Please assure me that you jest, Stephen.’
Gardiner took his leave and left the Council chamber, while Norfolk remained in his seat, chewing his fingernails in apprehension.
Courtenay had not been the only man with Yorkist ancestors who had been encouraged to join the Exeter Conspiracy and Norfolk was hoping upon hope that his part in seeking the involvement of another would not be revealed, all these years after Cromwell’s death. He had no desire to eke out his few remaining years in a return to the Tower.
IV
Elizabeth rose to welcome her regular visitor and William Cecil first bowed, then kissed the cool hand that was extended towards him.
‘You come to pay yet another visit to your cousin, Cecil?’
‘Indeed, my Lady. And also to supply my regular report on the state of your finances.’
‘You are welcome for both reasons,’ Elizabeth assured him. ‘Shall I call for wine?’
‘A little early for me, if you would excuse me. But do not let me deter you.’
This polite exchange masked a deepening friendship, even though William Cecil represented a Government that was hostile towards Elizabeth, insofar as her resentful older sister was capable of making it. He was Elizabeth’s Surveyor of Estates, but had been selected for this far from onerous position three years previously, when Elizabeth had still been under strong suspicion of an alliance with the Somerset faction that dominated the life of the young King Edward. Her estates were many and widespread and Mary had influenced Cecil’s appointment because of her belief that he was incorruptible as well as efficient. She had hoped that he would report the slightest irregularity, in order that Elizabeth might be portrayed as extravagant, wild, sensuous and irresponsible. Instead Cecil had found Elizabeth to be sober and God-fearing in an honest Protestant way that he found comforting, given his own Humanist education at Cambridge.
Elizabeth, for her part, had grown to trust Cecil and to regard him almost as a kindly uncle who could guide her through the uncertain and hazardous world into which she had been unwillingly thrust, and she both admired and respected his ability, his diligence, his patience, his honesty and his tact. Cecil also had a family link to Elizabeth’s close confidante and long-serving Lady, Blanche Parry, who was his cousin. The closeness of the two women made Cecil seem even more like a favourite uncle and Elizabeth had no doubt that the report she was about to receive — as usual, relayed from memory by a man whose prodigious retention of points of detail enabled him to dispense with notes — would be both honest and painstakingly accurate.
‘The harvest was better than in more recent years,’ he told her, ‘but there is still a lack of barley for brewing. There have been several head tenancy changes, which have yielded much in the way of seisen payments. Also a good number of marriages and inheritances, further swelling the coffers, to the extent of a net increase in the worth of your estate of several hundred pounds.’
‘Sufficient for me to commission the new maze in the home garden?’
‘Indeed, my Lady. Since you seem content to reside here over the winter months, you may help devise the plan until the more clement weather resumes, so that by April next the planting may commence.’
‘Excellent tidings, Cecil. Now, what news from London?’
Cecil had come mentally equipped with that also, since he was well aware of Elizabeth’s reluctance to maintain any presence at Greenwich, Hampton or Westminster. Immediately after the coronation, having obtained Mary’s willing consent, Elizabeth had retreated back to the only home she had ever really known — the place where she felt both comfortable and safe. It was her belief and fervent hope that by maintaining an unreported presence deep in the Hertfordshire countryside she would escape any scrutiny by Mary.
Elizabeth’s only reliable information about the affairs at Court therefore came from Cecil on his regular and most welcome visits, which he could always justify as being conducted in order to fulfil his duties as Surveyor of Estates and to maintain family links with his cousin. It was also always in the back of his mind that there might come a day when the sisterly fortunes were reversed, in which case his avuncular kindness to the younger sister would bode well for any future elevation of his own fortunes.
‘There are but two topics dominating the Courtly gossip at present,’ Cecil told her. ‘One is the fate of your former childhood companion Jane Grey and the other is your sister’s proposal to marry Philip of Spain.’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘Poor Jane was ill advised to marry into the Dudleys when she did. Her father-in-law Northumberland used her as a mere pawn in his greater ambition, in the same manner that Somerset used my brother Edward. It is to be hoped that she found temporary comfort in her marriage to Guildford, since she has paid dearly for it. I am saddened by the tales spread abroad that she was a wicked seeker after the crown of England, since the girl I knew when we sat at Edward’s feet during those carefree days of his youth was light-hearted, good natured, of a sweet disposition and both loving and considerate towards her friends, among whom I was happy to be numbered.’
Cecil frowned. ‘I would strongly urge you not to repeat that sentiment in any hearing other than mine, dear Lady. Even though it does you great honour that you remember old friends closely and kindly within your heart for the natural love and affection that they bore you, it must be remembered that in the uncomfortable atmosphere that currently afflicts the Court it is spoken only that Jane and her husband Guildford were commoners who sought to be royalty. Your erstwhile friend Jane is even described in the charge against her as “Jane Dudley”.’
‘And who is commissioned to judge her?’
‘Norfolk, on the thirteenth of next month, in the Guildhall — she and Guildford together. There will be other commissioners, but Norfolk will lead them.’
Elizabeth shuddered involuntarily. ‘It was Norfolk who sent my mother to the block. His own niece!’
‘Indeed, there is little doubt at Court as to what will be the outcome of the trial, although the sentence might be another matter.’
‘Will Mary execute them, think you?’ Elizabeth asked, white-faced.
Cecil placed a consoling hand on her sleeve. ‘Have courage, my Lady. There are those who believe that Her Majesty will be prevailed upon to show mercy, rather than begin her reign with bloodshed.’
‘But is it not true that Northumberland himself has already been executed?’
‘Indeed he has, but he chose to confess without demure or torture and repented publicly of his naked ambition, into which he dragged other innocent parties. It is believed that he did so to protect his son Guildford and his wife Jane.’
‘And what of the other son — Robert?’
‘If Guildford and Jane are spared, then the more likely it is that the younger Dudley will be likewise. He was your special friend, was he not? Again, if you would permit me so to counsel, you would be well advised not to speak too freely of your former friendship.’
‘I could never deny Robert Dudley,’ Elizabeth pouted, on the verge of tears. ‘He and I grew intimate, in the way of small children, in the royal nursery, since he was thought a fitting companion for Edward. We have been close ever since. Has his neck also been thrown down for Norfolk to hack?’
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‘Not according to my best information. His guilt is believed to be less than that of his brother Guildford and so Mary has commissioned the Marquess of Devon to judge him.’
‘I had no idea that we had such a noble,’ Elizabeth replied with raised eyebrows.
‘You perhaps knew of him as Edward Courtenay, a scion of Exeter.’
‘The same Exeter who sought to overthrow my father?’
‘The very same.’
Elizabeth gave a hollow laugh. ‘And he is now declared fit to sit in judgment on a noble young man who never entertained a treasonous thought, but who showed nothing but love and devotion to a royal princess?’
‘Again, my Lady, I must counsel against any mention of your closeness with any Dudley at this difficult and uncertain time. But do you not wish to hear of your sister’s betrothal?’
‘Has the Devil finally claimed his own?’
Cecil gave a hiss of horror and looked about the chamber nervously. ‘My Lady — please do not employ such speech, for you imperil both of us by doing so.’
‘My sincere apologies, Cecil, I mean no harm to your good and loyal self. It is just that I cannot believe my sister capable of any warm human sentiment.’
‘But do you not wish to learn who her intended husband is?’
‘Philip of Spain,’ Elizabeth announced. ‘Those who labour in the kitchen here at Hatfield have an intelligence service of which Norfolk would be proud. I got it from your cousin, who got it from the cook, who got it from the fishmonger’s girl and so on.’
‘And what think you of her choice?’ Cecil asked.
‘She had a choice, say you? I would imagine that Philip was the first to ever have the courage or desperation to propose sharing a bed with her. But if he is as ugly as his father, then perhaps he was starved of choice also. God help their children, should the future royal nursery be provided with looking glasses.’
‘You may find this a source of some mirth, my Lady, but we in London must take it seriously. Were Mary to proceed with her wish, then England would become yet another Spanish conquest and we would be trussed like a Christmas turkey inside the Holy Roman Empire.’
Elizabeth sat thinking deeply for a moment, then looked up. ‘You and I have never spoken in any depth about religion, Cecil, but would I be correct in detecting a reluctance on your part to see England returned under the control of Rome?’
Cecil hesitated, then opted for honesty. ‘My education inside the quadrangles of Cambridge left me with certain Humanist philosophies that make it difficult for me to accept, on a purely academic basis, the intervention of priests in the dialogue of conscience between man and God.’
‘You are of the Protestant faith?’
‘Should that be what you choose to label it.’
‘Thank God! It has been one of the few unspoken matters between us, yet I was always drawn to your open honesty and guileless kindness. We are twin souls, William Cecil.’
‘You flatter me, my Lady. I have sought only to perform my honest service.’
‘Yes, but you have done so in a manner that confers great honour upon yourself and heralds great hope for England. When one day I am Queen, will you serve as my chief minister?’
Cecil was completely taken aback and could express only one immediate reaction. ‘We cannot — and must not — be heard discussing the prospect of your acquiring the throne of England, my Lady. Let us speak only of the immediate future and how I might best be of service to you in the narrower circles in which you currently find yourself.’
‘Oh dear, faithful Cecil!’ Elizabeth choked, on the verge of tears. ‘Even when I tempt you with promise of great office you remain with both feet firmly planted on God’s good earth, ready to advise and serve with a humility that conceals a great wisdom and grace.’
‘May I take my leave, my Lady, before I blush even more deeply?’ Cecil asked. Elizabeth then amazed him further by reaching out for his hand and stooping to kiss it.
‘Dearest Cecil, do not ever change. By all means take your leave — but one departing favour, if I may?’
‘Yes, my Lady?’
‘Save Robert Dudley’s neck — as a special service to me.’
‘You asked to see me, Lord Chancellor?’ Mary asked somewhat petulantly over the bridge of her nose as she put down her prayer book with a frown. ‘I was told that it was a matter of some urgency, even though our regular audience is some two days distant. What, pray, is this urgent matter that takes me from my devotions?’
Gardiner swallowed hard and took the plunge. ‘Two matters, Your Majesty, as it transpires.’
‘Then lose no time in getting on with them.’
‘Firstly, Your Majesty, the matter of the Dudleys — Jane and Guildford, that is.’
‘I had half expected that. You come to plead for their lives?’
‘Not for myself, no, Your Majesty. For myself I would gladly see a fitting end to all traitors. But, as Your Majesty’s senior Councillor of State, I must urge some sort of mercy.’
‘Mercy for traitors?’ Mary demanded haughtily and Gardiner almost withered under her baneful glare. However, he had his solemn duty to fulfil and if their deaths blew up in Mary’s face, he would be the first she would blame.
‘I am concerned solely regarding Your Majesty’s standing with your people,’ he explained, in the hope that she gave a peppercorn for that. ‘If you were to stay the hand of retribution, it would demonstrate to your subjects that you are capable of human kindness.’
‘Is it suggested that I am not?’ Mary demanded as her hackles rose.
Gardiner hastily changed tack. ‘As matters stand, of course not, Your Majesty. But should you order that they suffer the traitor’s fate of hanging, drawing and quartering — a young couple but recently married — there might be some who might call it “vengeance”.’
‘They admitted their guilt in open court but two days ago, did they not?’ Mary reminded him testily. ‘Why should the law not take its course?’
‘Partly for the reason you just gave, Your Majesty. If it becomes generally known that a frank and honest admission of guilt can in some circumstances lead to clemency, then we shall have less need of those employed within the Tower to extract pleas of guilt — another possible source of rumour regarding royal harshness. But for another reason — as I just urged upon Your Majesty — your Christian charity and forbearance, your withholding of the brutal hand of the common law, will sit well with your subjects. In my capacity as Lord Chancellor, I am often called upon to bring to bear that manifestation of the law that we call “Equity”. It is a principle of fairness and justice that is sometimes applied where the strict common law would appear to be harsh in its application. I urge that Your Majesty find it in your heart not to take the lives of two young persons who were misled and beguiled by a more wicked spirit. Dudley himself admitted that he had overborne his son and daughter-in-law in the matter of the seizure of the crown and Jane Dudley, at her trial, confessed much the same.’
‘A pretty speech, my Lord Chancellor, and quite the longest I have ever heard from you,’ Mary replied as she turned over in her mind what was being suggested. Finally she looked up with a thin smile. ‘I shall meet you half way, Gardiner. The misguided couple shall be spared their lives, but in order to avoid any suggestion of weakness on my part they will continue to be held in the Tower, and separately. Now, since I am anxious to return to my spiritual contemplations, what was the other matter that you wished to bring to me?’
Gardiner said a silent prayer, then coughed.
‘Well?’ Mary demanded.
‘In the chamber without is a delegation from the Commons, Your Majesty. They come with a petition signed by all but a few of their members.’
‘And what do they seek, pray?’
‘An assurance of the future independence of England.’
‘Independent of what precisely, Gardiner?’
‘Spain, Your Majesty,’ he whispered, then braced himself for the st
orm.
‘You refer to my proposal to marry Philip of Spain?’
‘Indeed, Your Majesty, but less this be taken as a token of the disloyalty of your loving subjects, let me urge upon you —’
‘And let me urge upon you, Gardiner, that I am quite resolved upon the marriage,’ Mary interrupted him icily. ‘Pray advise me why my enemies in Parliament seek to deprive me of the most basic birth right of any woman — the pleasures of the marriage bed and the begetting of children. Do they dislike me so much that they cannot contemplate an heir of mine on the throne of England?’
‘They do not dislike you, Your Majesty,’ Gardiner assured her urgently. ‘They love you and yet they also love England. They further bask in your restoration to your father’s legacy. They have already — as you know — reversed your bastardy and declared the marriage of your parents to have been valid. They have also consented to the imprisonment of the likes of Latimer, Ridley and Cranmer, as a public acknowledgement of their wish that you lead us back to Rome. But they fear to have England reduced to being a dependency of the Hapsburg Empire. Their petition does not strike at your happiness, Your Majesty — quite the contrary, in that it invites you to marry an Englishman. But it seeks to preserve the independence of the England that you have inherited from your glorious father.’
Mary glared back at Gardiner with a grim determination. ‘Does the Commons also come with the name of this Englishman that they propose for my husband?’
‘No, Your Majesty, that must clearly be a matter in which you follow your heart.’
‘I have already followed my heart, Gardiner, and it lies with Philip of Spain. But say you that my Commons will not let me follow my own urgings? Must I marry some spindly-legged English fop with a great lineage but nought else to recommend him? Courtenay, perhaps?’
‘That is certainly one of the names that has been mooted, Your Majesty.’
‘And have the gentlemen of my Commons approached Edward Courtenay with that suggestion? Have they proposed marriage in my name without even consulting me?’
