by David Field
‘You’re my clerk, not my son,’ Cecil reminded him, ‘and the only court you’re likely to be presented in is one that possesses a judge and jury, the way you carry on. But as fortune would have it, you’ll need to look half civilised for our next joint enterprise.’
‘Another seamstress for me to pleasure?’
‘No, but another opportunity for you to sink down to your natural level among menial domestic staff. It’s a pity you can’t make yourself more agreeable to mine. However, this time we journey to Framlingham, in Suffolk.’
‘Where’s that, when do we leave and what do you require of me?’ Thomas asked as his spirits rose.
‘Tomorrow,’ he was told. ‘Framlingham lies at least five days to our east and it’s the family seat of the Duke of Norfolk. We go to enquire as to his health.’
‘Could you simply not write?’ Thomas asked dismissively.
‘No,’ Cecil replied, ‘because the reply would be to the effect that he is too ill to travel in order to answer to the Queen for certain matters in which he has incurred her displeasure. We journey in order to assess the truth of that assertion.’
‘But he will surely maintain the same to your face,’ Thomas objected.
Cecil nodded. ‘Which is why I am taking you with me,’ he told Thomas. ‘While I receive the benefit of Norfolk’s insistence that his health prohibits his travel down to London, no doubt accompanied by fake groans and protestations of pain, you will be ascertaining from those who wait upon him the true state of his health.’
‘And why is the Surveyor of the Estates undertaking a task more suited to a physician?’ Thomas asked.
‘At the command of Her Majesty,’ Cecil told him with a smile as he saw the young man’s face light up.
‘Will we be rewarded?’
‘Not in the fashion that you no doubt have in mind. However, should it be that Norfolk is inventing his ill-health as an excuse not to answer to Her Majesty for his act of dishonesty that imperilled the life of the Lady Elizabeth, we will be performing a great service to Elizabeth, in that we will be confirming that she has been the victim of a malevolent conspiracy.’
‘You seem to perform all your actions for the benefit of this Lady Elizabeth, rather than the Queen. Is it because she is the Queen’s sister?’ Thomas asked.
Cecil shook his head. ‘I do it because I am her only constant friend and she has need of many in these turbulent times that we live in.’
‘Will I get to meet her?’
‘When we return from Suffolk I hope that she will be free of the Tower, then we may journey back to Hatfield, where I will present you. Now, inside with you — and take care to wash before we dine, because you smell of cat piss.’
‘It’s your cat,’ Thomas grinned as he leapt to his feet.
‘Norfolk was the wicked source of all those lies, say you?’ Elizabeth asked, the relief clearly evident in the glow that had returned to her cheeks with the news that Cecil had imparted. It was a warm day in late June and Elizabeth was now well into her second month as the ‘guest’ of Sir Henry Bedingfield at Woodstock Palace. He was a most benign jailor, but he was still a jailor and Elizabeth had been left in no doubt that while she was free to walk in the gardens and orchard, she was not permitted beyond the gate. She had also been allowed her books and needlework and Cecil had called in order to enquire what else she might require to be transferred from Hatfield.
‘It was almost certainly Norfolk’s doing,’ Cecil confirmed. ‘We know from your servants that the letter allegedly sent by Courtenay was not in your jewel case when it left Hatfield and must therefore have been produced on some date after that.’
‘Was it in Courtenay’s hand?’ Elizabeth asked, ‘and if so, what could have possessed him to write something so hurtful towards my interests?’
Cecil looked down uncomfortably at the threadbare carpet, hoping that he would not have to say it, but fortunately for him Elizabeth had grasped the answer and her face went pale as she sought confirmation.
‘Torture?’
‘Regrettably, so it would seem,’ Cecil confirmed. ‘But he remains alive, according to my latest advice.’
‘That is some blessing, I suppose,’ Elizabeth nodded. ‘But what of the French Ambassador? Surely they did not torture him?’
‘Of course not, my Lady, but you must remember that all that Norfolk produced was what was alleged to have been a copy of what de Noailles wrote. There can be little doubt that the Ambassador was responsible for the French fleet blockading the Channel, but whether or not he included your name in his despatch must remain a matter of deep uncertainty. Even if he did, that did not prove that you were actually complicit in the plot. It was Courtenay’s letter that did the damage. But at least you are free of the Tower.’
‘This is little better, in many ways,’ Elizabeth sighed as she cast her eye around the sparsely furnished chamber. ‘But what of Norfolk? Will my sister punish him?’
‘I fear that God will claim him first,’ Cecil replied. ‘I have rarely stared death in the face before, but there can be little doubt that Thomas Howard is not long for this world and even his servants are preparing for his demise. He is even more bony of frame than he was wont to be, and my clerk Thomas discovered from his Chamberlain that the man who so terrified half the nation in his prime can these days barely cross the carpet in his own Hall. He will be dead ere autumn, they say, and of course the Queen has other matters that claim her attention, given the imminent arrival of Philip of Spain.’
‘I do not anticipate receiving an invitation to the wedding,’ Elizabeth told him with an ironic smile, ‘but should you acquire the opportunity, please give her my fondest love and best wishes in her forthcoming marriage. I shall say a prayer for her here in my new cell. Will she accept and read any letter that I might send?’
‘I will do my utmost to ensure that she does, my Lady. If necessary I shall arrange for my new clerk to sneak it into her chapel and place it on her prayer stool.’
‘This new clerk — Thomas, I believe you said his name was — sounds very resourceful. It was he who obtained the proof of Norfolk’s treachery regarding the Courtenay letter, you say?’
‘Indeed he did, but I would rather not disclose the means he employed. He is, as you say, very resourceful. Also very underhanded, immoral, dishonest and sly. I have already found several uses for his unique talents. Apart from learning the truth regarding the letter, he also managed to alert the crowds to your progress from Richmond. You must have taken considerable heart from their adulation as you rode down here to Woodstock.’
‘Indeed I did,’ Elizabeth smiled warmly at the memory. ‘Please thank him for me and see that he is adequately rewarded. I would also meet him, when it is convenient.’
Elizabeth was allowed few attendants and even less visitors, but was greatly heartened to be reunited with her close companion Blanche Parry and to be allowed regular visits from Cecil. She was also allowed to write letters to Mary, constantly enquiring why she was being held prisoner. She was concerned, not simply to establish her own innocence of any plot against the throne, but also at being out of the public eye for such long periods of time. The people had demonstrated their fondness for her and she did not wish this to fade to nothing while she remained locked away in an obscure ruin in the countryside.
But this obvious popularity with the people was the principal reason why Mary was keeping her hidden away, and why she refused to read any of the letters from Elizabeth that Bedingfield dutifully forwarded.
XI
Gardiner finally united England and Spain by presiding over the marriage, on 25th July 1554, of a radiant and slightly breathless Mary to Philip of Spain, the heir apparent to the Holy Roman Empire, in a magnificent ceremony in his Cathedral of Winchester. In his capacity as Chancellor and in the absence of the dying Norfolk, Gardiner had also been responsible for commissioning liberal distributions of free ale and entire meat carcasses roasted on open spits on street corners, in order to b
ribe the populace of London into turning out to cheer on the happy couple as they entered London in a triumphant procession, following three weeks of seclusion in and around Wolvesey Palace. It was an anxious time and for a while it seemed that the supplies of free ale might have been too generous when portions of the crowd grew drunkenly rowdy, hurling foul oaths, excrement and lumps of cooked meat at those in the procession who were obviously Spanish, to judge by their manner of dress.
However, on the whole law and order was maintained, even though it was necessary for days afterwards to give casual employment to men engaged to rid the streets of the ribald and largely obscene pamphlets that had been freely circulating for the amusement of the mob, describing how Queen Mary might have lost her long-maintained virginity to a rabid Spanish dog.
Council resumed its regular meetings with Philip in attendance, along with his aide and interpreter da Silva, whose English was marginally superior to Mary’s Spanish, and between them they ran a running commentary on what was being discussed, for Philip’s benefit. This was naturally disruptive of free debate anyway, but most of the members of Council also felt inhibited in their discussions by the mere presence of a man who in any circumstance other than his sharing of the royal bed would be considered England’s natural enemy.
What made it even more uncomfortable for many was that at long last Mary had consented to receive a communication from Elizabeth, largely under the gentle persuasion of her new husband, who was anxious to promote a friendly and trusted relationship with the next in line to the English throne. He had no great expectation that his new wife would bear any heir to the English Crown herself and he wished to have Elizabeth safely married off to a Catholic prince from within the Holy Roman Empire while he still retained influence within the nation. Put less diplomatically, he had no great expectation of, or desire for, a long and fruitful marriage to Mary and he wished to waste no time in launching his longer-term ambition for the role of England as a mere component of the mighty Habsburg conglomeration.
This necessitated that Elizabeth be closer to hand, where he could wield his influence over her, and not closeted away in some remote and desolate rural ruin. Almost from the date of their marriage he had therefore gently insisted that Mary’s Christian duty was to at least hear what it was that her sister was so anxious to impart regarding her love of, and loyalty towards, the Queen. As soon as Mary appeared to be close to relenting, Philip had word conveyed to Bedingfield that he — Philip — had promoted Elizabeth’s cause at Court and that if a document might be prepared in which Elizabeth pledged her undying love and constancy and solemnly denied any complicity in previous challenges to Mary’s right to rule England, then all might be well.
Such a document would obviously require to be compiled with the assistance of someone experienced in the Courtly style and in the absence of Cecil Elizabeth turned to her jailor Bedingfield himself. Many drafts later, as her appointed scribe made one diplomatically suggested amendment after another, the final document was dispatched. It was received in due course by a Council whose members were uneasily aware that their petitioner could become their next Queen, should the existing one succumb to any of the contagions that regularly swept through the city and from there into the royal palaces through the various tradespersons who regularly attended at their kitchen doors.
Written in the third person, by Bedingfield on Elizabeth’s behalf, it petitioned Council that: ‘having regard to her long imprisonment and restraint of liberty, either to charge her with special matter to be answered unto and tried, or to grant her liberty to come into Her Highness’s presence, which she sayeth she would not desire were it not that she knoweth herself to be clear even before God, for her allegiance.’
Along with this petition was a short letter in Elizabeth’s own hand, requesting that those members of Council who had been appointed as executors of her father Henry’s will less than ten years previously bear in mind what that great monarch had intended for his daughters and allow her to appear before them to argue her case for at least her basic freedom.
‘If the lady be speaking truth,’ suggested one Council member in a voice trembling with his awareness of his own presumption, ‘then do we not conduct ourselves as true Councillors of State by allowing her to advance these proofs of her innocence? It is no more than we allow to common criminals, and this lady was named in the will of your beloved late father, Your Majesty.’
‘I am well aware of the contents of my father’s will, my Lord,’ Mary relied peevishly, ‘since I was its principal beneficiary. Unfortunately, he was unable to foresee that Elizabeth would endeavour to speed her path to the throne by means of rebellion and treachery.’
‘What evidence of such treachery do we possess, Your Majesty?’ another Councillor ventured to ask.
Mary turned her head hastily towards Gardiner. ‘The Lord Chancellor brought me proof, as he will explain.’
Gardiner’s eyes opened wide with alarm, then they met the steely glare of his Queen.
Gardiner cleared his throat nervously and explained, ‘The Earl Marshall presented us with a letter written by the traitor Courtenay to the Lady Elizabeth, in which he pledged not only his own personal love for the lady, but also his commitment to the Wyatt Rebellion that would place her on the throne. Also a copy of a letter from the French Ambassador to —’
‘Enough, Gardiner!’ Mary yelled down the table, horrified at the prospect that he was about to reveal the practice of routinely breaking the seals on diplomatic despatches, reading their contents, then skilfully re-sealing them. ‘The letter from Courtenay was enough, surely?’ she argued.
Philip murmured something in da Silva’s ear and the translator smiled as he announced, in heavily accented English, ‘His Majesty wishes to know when and where that letter was discovered.’
It fell deathly silent, for several reasons. For most of the Council it was the reference to Philip as ‘His Majesty’; while it could always be argued that the reference was a natural one to Philip’s impending status in Spain and therefore da Silva’s accustomed title for his master, there was also the uneasy possibility that Philip was making early insistence on the English title he had been grudgingly allowed by Council, following bullying from Mary. For Mary herself it was the guilty knowledge that the letter in Courtenay’s hand might have been obtained by improper means, long after the rebellion had fizzled to a standstill, and was no proof at all of Elizabeth’s complicity in it. She was also anxiously wondering whether or not da Silva had been privately consulted by Cecil on the very same point.
The silence was eventually broken by Philip leaning forward to take Mary’s hand in his and whispering in her ear. Mary cleared her throat and announced grudgingly, ‘My husband insists that out of the love that one sister naturally bears to another, the Lady Elizabeth should be given the opportunity to clear her name of any disloyalty to me. There is also, as someone pointed out earlier, the consideration that even common criminals are entitled to be heard in their own defence. For both reasons I shall make arrangements for the Lady Elizabeth to be brought to Court to answer for those actions that are alleged against her. Now perhaps we might move on to the more important matter of the salvation of our nation’s soul and the purging of all heresy from our churches?’
Not only had Mary deftly turned the debate away from the subject of Elizabeth’s restoration to favour without committing herself to any specific timetable, but she had also astutely assessed the appropriate moment to launch a process that was not only dear to her own heart, but would please her pious and determined husband and would reassure the diehards in her Council, led by the ever loyal and cringingly subservient Gardiner, that she was more than capable of restoring the ‘true faith’ that so many of them had nervously been awaiting while they still had time to preserve their own souls.
The laws had already been put in place and Gardiner was commissioned to ensure that they were implemented without further delay. He had been granted this favour in compensatio
n for the fact that Reginald Pole was now the Archbishop of Canterbury, while his Reformist predecessor, Cranmer, having been removed from office by the Pope, was now languishing in Oxford’s Bocardo Prison, awaiting trial on a charge of heresy. There was also a new Bishop of London, Edmund Bonner, whose zeal for hunting down heretics within his own diocese and burning them at the stake was now given full rein.
So many alleged heretics were burned to death in Smithfield that the local residents complained to Parliament that the permanent stench of seared human flesh was making them ill. Of the hundred or so defiant souls who met this slow and agonising end after staunchly refusing to recant their Reformist beliefs, only a handful were actually clergymen. The majority were humble members of congregations around the city. There were even several women, even though public abhorrence of the burning of women was beginning to be expressed in murmurings on secluded street corners.
Had it been left to Gardiner, Elizabeth herself might well have ended her days on a funeral pyre, such was his enthusiasm to proclaim his Catholic credentials. But under the more restrained influence of Philip of Spain, not only was she spared, but Mary was placed under increasing domestic pressure to bring her younger sister back to Court.
In September of 1554, it was being mouthed around Greenwich that the Queen was with child. She had not menstruated for two months, she was experiencing nausea first thing upon rising from her bed and she was gaining weight. The royal physicians were only too eager to avoid incurring the royal displeasure and hastily agreed among themselves, with fingers crossed behind their backs, that Mary Tudor must indeed prepare herself for a lying-in. They also advised her that Hampton Court Palace would be the more fitting location for the birth predicted for May the following year.
Mary would be thirty-nine by that date and this would be her first pregnancy. The Palace physicians nervously discussed the momentous responsibility that was now being thrust upon them and they secretly confided in Philip that while childbirth was a hazardous, and sometimes fatal, process for any woman, in Mary’s case it might result in the birth of a child being followed by the death of its mother. Parliament readily agreed, at Mary’s insistence, that should she die in childbirth, leaving an heir, then Philip would be Regent of England. This sat uneasily in most English stomachs, given the memory of the turmoils during the Seymour Protectorate and the thought that there would be nothing to prevent Philip delivering them to Spain. As a result, many secretly prayed that if Mary were to die, then the child she bore should not survive, so that the throne might pass to Elizabeth.
