All through that January I was with the Court. Jane whispered to me with great delight that she thought she was pregnant, and I rejoiced with her. By the beginning of March she was sure.
The King was absolutely delighted. At last he was going to get his son. When he did, he would know that Heaven approved of everything he had done to reach that happy state.
He talked continually of his son; he would pat Jane's stomach “Good girl,” he said. “This is the first of many.”
Jane was happy and at the same time fearful. She must have been feeling what the others had in their turn.
Would she produce the all-important son? And if not, what would happen to her?
* * *
SOON AFTER CHRISTMAS Robert Aske, the leader of the Pilgrimage of Grace, had come to London to see the King. My father received him and listened carefully to his complaints. They should have consideration, he told him, and shortly he would make a visit to Yorkshire and visit the city of York, where his Queen might be crowned.
Robert Aske must have felt the visit was a great success, and he returned to his native Yorkshire. But of course the King was not going to give up the supremacy of the Church in favor of the Pope; he was not going to accept the Pope's judgement on his first marriage and declare me his legitimate daughter. I supposed he was just trying to show his benign nature to the people and hoped the revolt would simmer down.
But the people of the North were serious, and no sooner had Aske returned than a new revolt broke out. Sir Francis Bigod led this. The King marched north, and this time there was no miracle to save the rebels. They had no chance against the King's army. The leaders were caught and hanged in the cities where they had raised the revolt. Robert Aske came to London. This time he was sent to the Tower.
My father was done with peaceful negotiations. He was going to show these northerners who was their master.
Robert Aske was taken to York and hanged in chains, where his body was left for the crows and that all might see what happened to those who opposed the King's will.
The Pilgrimage of Grace was over, and the people, he hoped, had learned their lesson.
* * *
IT WAS AN ANXIOUS time for me because now I knew that every time there was an insurrection I should be in danger. There would always be a hint that the King was to be deposed, and I was the one who would be put in his place.
It was, of course, what I was working for; but it must come about in a natural manner. I was only twenty-one. Time was on my side. I felt in my heart that one day I was going to be Queen of this country and, when I was, my first mission would be to bring it back to Rome.
I was not yet ready for the task. I was too young. I had lived too far from the Court for too long. I had much to learn, and I must prepare myself. I must worship as my mother had—wholeheartedly. Religion must come first with me as it had with her; and the only reason why I could think and plan as I did, with a good conscience, was if I made it my first concern, my whole reason for living. I could believe that I had been sent on Earth for this one purpose: to bring the Church of England back to the true Roman Catholic fold.
So I could watch the decline of my father's health with mixed feelings. I was fond of him—odd as it may seem—but it is difficult to describe that unique temperament. One could hate what he did but not entirely hate him. One was warmed by his smile, though it might be fleeting; and to bask in his approval, uncertain as it was, brought a glow of happiness, a gratification, a delight that one had earned it. I cannot explain his charismatic charm; I can only think that it was that which kept men faithful to him— even those against whom he had committed the most outrageous and often barbaric acts.
With the Pilgrimage of Grace over and Jane pregnant, he was a happy man during those waiting months.
I was at odds with myself. I had become so fond of Jane. She admitted once her fear that the child might be a girl; it seemed unfair that she should suffer such anxiety over a matter in which she had no choice. Life was so unfair. If, through no fault of her own, she produced a girl, she would be despised, dubbed no better than her predecessors, and perhaps it would be the beginning of the end for her; on the other hand, if the child were a boy, she would be praised and fêted… good Queen Jane.
And my own position? As I said, I was fond of the girl. I wanted her to be happy; yet if she produced the boy, what of my hopes of achieving my mission?
It was not that I coveted the crown for myself. I wanted it for God and the true religion. It was a crusade, and I was to lead it. I was to bring this country back to the true Faith, which surely must find favor with God.
Now, long after, when I look back on all that happened, I can see why I did the things I did later. I had lived so much of my life on a precipice from which at any moment I could be hurled to disaster. That has an effect on people. Human life can seem of little value; it is the cause that is important. Yes, perhaps that is why I acted as I did. Am I trying to find excuses? Perhaps. But excuses there are, for our characters are surely formed by the events in our early years.
At this time I was fêted at Court, the dear friend of the Queen; and I had my father's favor—but how transient that favor could be everyone knew. The Pilgrimage of Grace had brought that home to me. Men's bodies were now rotting in the great cities of the North, reminding the King's subjects of what happened to them if they disobeyed him. I was his subject, and whenever there were risings of any sort, my name would be bandied about. They had known of my mother's unswerving faith, and they would believe that her daughter shared it. There would always be suspicions. I was not safe. At any moment the King's wrath could be turned on me.
I walked a dangerous path and, looking back, I see that it was even more perilous than I realized at the time.
The Pilgrimage of Grace and its outcome, the suppression of the monasteries… these matters hung over me, for I could not be free of them. In spite of the Queen's friendship and the King's newly discovered affection for his daughter, I lived in fear during those days when the Pilgrimage of Grace was remembered.
I traveled with the Court to Greenwich and back to Richmond and then to various other houses as the Court moved round for sweetening and visiting. And all the time my friendship with Jane was growing. I had not mentioned the Countess of Salisbury again, but I did talk to Jane now and then of Elizabeth; but, with the memory of the Pilgrimage of Grace still in his mind, the King was in no mood for listening to the plight of his young daughter.
The months passed. The Queen's pregnancy was becoming obvious, and never was there a more welcome sight. The King was tender toward her, certain that she bore the son he wanted. Seers prophesied the sex of the child to please him; they would have to make themselves scarce if they were proved wrong.
I was torn between my desire for Jane's happiness and my own need to accomplish my mission, for the two were incompatible. I told myself that, if it were God's will that Jane should bear a son who would be the future King and, on account of his age and mine, my plans would be frustrated, I must not complain.
I was ready and waiting if wanted. I could leave this in God's hands.
Jane was so eager that Elizabeth should be brought to Court that she plucked up courage and mentioned this to the King, and he, eager to pamper her and perhaps fearing what adverse effect there might be on her child if she were crossed, agreed that Elizabeth might come; but he did imply that he did not wish to see her.
I knew how delighted Lady Bryan would be if there was some recognition of her darling, and I wanted to take the news to them and help the child prepare. So I left the Court at the end of summer and went to Hunsdon.
There was a great welcome for me. Margaret was delighted to see me. As for Elizabeth, when she heard she was going to see Queen Jane, she was overjoyed.
Her face was alight with pleasure and anticipation, her red curls bobbed up and down as she jumped, for she found it difficult to keep still, and Margaret was always admonishing her about this. She was four years
old but her manner and way of speech were more fitting to a child of eight or nine. She was exceptionally bright and very forward. Margaret said she had never seen a child so full of vitality and yet so eager to study her books. I only half believed Margaret, for I knew her darling was perfect in her eyes. But it was true that Elizabeth was a most unusual child—the sort that one might have expected the King and Anne Boleyn to produce between them. It was over a year now since the little one had lost her mother. I wondered if she still thought of her.
Margaret was anxious about the child's clothes. She could not go in patched shifts, she declared. I was no longer poor. Gifts had been showered on me since my reinstatement, and I had an income and money from both the King and Queen. So between us we were able to equip the child for Court.
Her delight was infectious. I forgot to wonder what would be the outcome of my mission. I was caught up in the excitement of taking Elizabeth to Court.
* * *
IT WAS SEPTEMBER. The birth was expected during the following month. There were no more appearances in public for Queen Jane. She was to have a month of quietness at Hampton Court. It is, I suppose, with its courtyards and towers, one of the most magnificent buildings in England. I could never be in it without thinking of Thomas Wolsey. There he must have experienced great anguish when he realized that he, who had risen so high, was soon to fall. How had he felt when he had handed this palace over to the King? My father had questioned whether it was right that a subject should live in greater splendor than his king, and Wolsey, with that immediate perception which had brought him to his elevated position, had remarked that a subject should only have it that he might present it to his king. With that remark he may have given himself a few weeks' grace, but it had lost him his palace.
And now here we were, while Jane awaited the birth of her child.
She was, as I had known she would be, enchanted by Elizabeth. Brighteyed, with reddish curls and that amazing vitality, she possessed that charisma which I had never seen in any other person except my father in his youth. She must have inherited it from him. How could any of her mother's enemies suggest for a moment that she was not his child? He was there in her gestures, in her very zest for life. I thought, if he would only allow himself to see her, he would be completely beguiled.
But he did not see her. He did receive me. He told me that he had heard from Dr. Butts that I was well and that if I would not get over-excited I would cease to be tormented by my headaches.
“You should live more peacefully,” he told me, giving me one of those suspicious looks as though to ask: What are your aspirations? What is it that over-excites you? You are only a bastard, remember.
I shall never forget Jane during those weeks before her confinement. I wondered if she had a premonition of what was to come. It was only natural that she must have been overcome with dread—not only because of the ordeal of childbirth but by what the outcome might be if she gave birth to a stillborn child or one of the despised sex. There were dismal examples of what had happened to others, and I guessed she could not dismiss them from her mind.
I can see her now, standing with me in the great banqueting hall which had only just been completed. She had gazed at the entwined initials—her own and those of the King: J and H. It was a custom of his to have his initials entwined with those of the wife who happened to please him at the moment. They were all decorated with lovers' knots and cast in stone, which was ironical because it was so much more enduring than his emotions, and so remained long after his passion had passed away.
Jane was looking pale and by no means well. I thought a little fresh air would be good for her, such as a quiet walk in the gardens or to sit awhile under one of the trees and enjoy the autumn sunshine. But it was forbidden. The King feared there might be some minor accident which would bring about a premature birth. She was reminded at every turn that she carried the country's—and the King's—hopes for a male heir.
Elizabeth was with us, and she created a diversion. There was no doubt that Jane found pleasure in her company. Elizabeth was completely sure of herself and did not seem in the least concerned because her father would not see her. I was sure she believed that when he did he would fall victim to her charm, as almost everyone else did. I thought it was strange that she, who wanted an explanation of everything she saw or heard, never mentioned her mother. It seemed to me that it was an indication that she knew what had happened to her. Margaret would never have told her, but the sharp ears would be constantly alert for information; and I felt she knew. What would a child of four think of a father who had murdered her mother? What did I think, for he had as good as murdered mine? It says a good deal for his personality that neither of us hated him. It may have been largely due to the aura of kingship which was so much a part of him. But it was more than that. He had something in his nature which enabled him to act most cruelly—barbarously, in fact—and still people would forgive him and seek his approval.
At last the day arrived. The Queen's pains had started. There was a hushed expectancy about the palace. All were afraid to approach the King. The next few hours would be decisive. Either we should have a happy monarch or a furious, raging tyrant to contend with.
We were all in a state of tension. “A boy!” prayed the King and all those about him. Not surprisingly I was unsure of what I wanted. A boy would mean the end of all hope for me. I should lose that great chance which I had believed Heaven was holding out for me if the child were a boy. And yet… a boy would make life easier for us all. Suspicion would shift from me. No one could doubt that the King's marriage to Jane was legal, for both his previous wives had been dead at the time he married. A boy in any case would come before me… and Elizabeth.
I should be praying for a girl…or, more to my advantage, a stillborn child. But how could I? I could not bear to think of the troubles which had beset my own mother falling on Jane.
I said to myself, “God moves in a mysterious way. If it is His will that the task of bringing England back to the true Faith shall be mine, then it will be so.” And I believed that.
The vigil was long. I was in the ante-room with those in high places who must be present at the birth. The time was passing. No child yet…The anxiety was growing. Was something wrong? Was it possible that the King could not get healthy children?
The doctors came out. They must see the King at once. It was clear that the birth was not going as it should. It seemed possible that both the child and the mother could not live. There might have to be a choice. The King must make the decision.
I was glad that Jane was too ill to know his reply, to realize how deeply he desired a son, how frail was his love for her.
His reply was typical of him—brusque and revealing. “Save my son. Wives are easily found.”
My poor, poor Jane!
It was Friday the 12th of October of that year 1537 when the child was born. It was the longed-for boy.
The King's delight was unbounded. At last he had that for which he had so long prayed.
His own son, and meek little Jane had given it to him.
* * *
THE BOY WAS RECEIVED with such acclaim that little thought was given to Jane. She was exhausted and very ill but she still lived.
I talked to Margaret about it.
“Poor lady,” she said. “Her ordeal was terrible and she was never strong. Keeping her shut up like that…it was all wrong. I said it from the first. Fresh air would have done her the world of good.”
“But she did it, Margaret. She has produced the son. Both my mother and Anne Boleyn would have given everything they had to do that.”
Margaret nodded. “What she needs now is rest… not all this coming and going.”
“She is happy now, Margaret. She has been so worried.”
“I can believe that! Well now, she must have a good rest … rest and quiet and no more children for a long time.”
“The King's appetite is whetted. She has given him a son. He will want more.�
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“He will have to wait. He's got one. Let him be satisfied with that.”
There must be no delay. The baby must be baptized. He was to be called Edward. The King was in a mood of exuberance. He carried the boy in his arms and had to be restrained from bouncing him up and down in his excitement. He smiled good-humouredly at the nurse who stopped him. The baby was very precious.
It was a Friday when he was born and he was to be baptized on the Monday night.
“Too soon for the Queen,” commented Margaret.
“She will be in her bed.”
“There'll be too much fuss round her.”
“I think she must be very happy, Margaret.”
But Margaret looked grim. She bore a great grudge against the King; she could never forget what he had done to her darling's mother and all the subterfuge she had had to practice to keep it from the child.
The baptism of little Edward was to take place in Hampton Court Chapel, and I was to play an important part in the ceremony. My father would feel less anxious about my position now for he had a true heir to replace me. He was therefore inclined to bring me forward a little. Perhaps this was why I was chosen to present the baby at the font.
The procession would begin in the Queen's chamber. Jane, of course, could not rise from her bed; she was far too weak. It was this which angered Margaret so much. She thought rules and customs should be set aside if people were not well enough to partake in them. These men did not realize what it was like, giving birth to a child, she said; it was a pity some of them didn't have to do it sometimes, then they would have some idea of what it was like. Even if everything had gone smoothly, the Queen would have needed rest at such a time.
However, Jane, in accordance with custom, was to be removed from her bed to a state pallet, a type of couch. This was very grand, being decorated with crowns and the arms of England worked in gold thread. The counterpane was of scarlet velvet lined with ermine.
In the Shadow of the Crown Page 21
