In the Shadow of the Crown

The planned Escape

IT SOON BECAME CLEAR TO ME THAT MY BROTHER WAS fanatically devoted to the Reformed Faith. I had, of course, known he leaned that way, for he had been instructed by Katharine Parr and his uncles, and they were the people who had most affected him.

He was a strange little boy, and being aware of how important he had become had its effect upon him. He had been affectionate enough as a little child. He had loved Mrs. Penn dearly and also the Queen; he had been devoted to Jane Grey; he had been fond of me and had adored Elizabeth.

It was a great misfortune that the crown should be thrust on him when he was so young. He must have felt the need to preserve his dignity, being in the center of so much ceremony, surrounded by so many ambitious men, all trying to guide him—for their own benefit, of course. He was very serious; his delicate health had made him turn to his books rather than indulge in the outdoor life. He was wise for his years, but of course not wise enough to deal with the intrigue, scheming and machinations which must necessarily go on around him.

His uncle, Edward, Earl of Hertford, was the one who had chief control. My father had ordered this in his will, in which he had pronounced Edward as his sole heir and named eighteen executors to act as a Council of Regency during Edward's minority. The two chief among them were the Earl of Hertford and Viscount Lisle.

On his father's death Edward was brought with Elizabeth from Enfield, and from there the new King was taken to the Tower to prepare for his coronation. There he created his uncle Edward Duke of Somerset, and Lord Lisle became the Earl of Warwick and Thomas Seymour Lord Seymour of Sudley and Lord High Admiral of the Fleet.

The coronation was a sumptuous occasion much enjoyed by the people; there was little they found so touching as to see a child crowned King of the Realm. It did not occur to them that such a state of affairs could be highly dangerous.

He was acknowledged Supreme Head of the Church.

I was fully aware that my position was as precarious as it had ever been. Moreover I had lost my good friend Chapuys. His health had been failing for some time, and he had now retired. In his place as the imperial ambassador was François van der Delft. I trusted him, for I was sure the Emperor would not have sent him if I could not do so.

The Emperor had always been for me the rock on which I could rest if need be, although there had been times when he appeared to be a little indifferent to my plight. But I always convinced myself that he was a man of great power and many commitments and that, if anyone could help me, he would be the one. But I knew I was going to miss the special relationship I had had with Chapuys.

I was now first in line to the throne. I represented the Catholic party, and if, as I believed, the religion of the country was now to be changed, there would certainly be many who disagreed with what was done; and those people would look to me as a leader.

On the advice of van der Delft, I retired from Court. I made the excuse of mourning my father, and my own ill health. I went from Havering to Wanstead House, Newhall and Framlingham Castle. I was not poor now, for I had an income from Newhall, Beaulieu and Hunsdon, and I had just acquired Kenninghall, which had come to me with the fall of the Howards.

Norfolk still remained in the Tower, and because my father had not signed his death warrant, he was allowed to languish there.

I guessed I should remain in obscurity until I saw more clearly what was going to happen.

My sister Elizabeth was to live with the Queen, and I was sure Katharine would be pleased about that. She had always been the good stepmother. Life had changed for Elizabeth, too. She was no longer merely the bastard daughter of the King, not to be received at Court; she was second in the line of succession, coming after me; and she had her income of £3,000 a year, just as I did. So I could imagine she was not displeased with life. She had always been on friendly terms with Edward; and if I knew her, now that he was King, she would not allow that friendship to diminish. She was now a very knowledgeable fourteen.

I had given up all thought of marriage for myself. To have been betrothed so many times and for it all to have come to nothing had had its effect on me. I knew there was concern about my health. It seems one's body is not one's own if one is royal. It was known that I suffered periodic pains and difficulties—there were spies among my bedchamber women—and this caused a certain amount of speculation as to whether I should be able to bear children. I knew the state of my health had been discussed in all the Courts of Europe. It may have been one reason why my proposed marriages had come to nothing.

Now there was another hint of marriage…from Thomas Seymour! I was amazed and appalled. Was there no end to the aspirations of that family! Their sister Jane had happened to please the King, and she had done that which none of the others had been able to—bear the heir to the throne who was now the King; and because of this the obscure family from Wiltshire had royal ambitions. So Thomas Seymour, now Lord Seymour and High Admiral, had the temerity to hint that there might be a marriage between us. I guessed he thought that Edward would not have long to reign, and then glory for me… and Thomas Seymour saw himself as Queen's consort ruling the land. I wondered what his brother Edward thought of that project.

I had not had time to answer the proposal with the scorn it warranted before I heard another rumor. He had offered marriage to Elizabeth! How did my fourteen-year-old sister feel about that? I had seen her eyes sparkle when she looked at him; he was a very handsome man, and even at her age she was already susceptible to such as he was. What had her answer been? That was if he had truly made the offer. One could never trust rumor.

There was yet another. This time Anne of Cleves was named. I could scarcely believe that. What would Anne of Cleves have to offer an ambitious man? An exqueen could not possibly compare with a woman who might have the crown.

Then came the whispers that Seymour was already married… not to any of those mentioned in the recent rumors, but to his one-time sweetheart, Katharine Parr.

I could not believe it at first. Could the Queen really have married so soon after the death of the King? It was most unseemly. But having seen the manner in which that man could attract women, I believed he might have succeeded in persuading her. After all, she had been in love with him before the King chose her—and she had certainly hoped to marry Seymour then. So I did believe there might be some truth in this rumor.

I was amazed to receive a letter from the Admiral in which he asked my opinion of the proposed marriage to the Queen, and asking me to give my sanction to it.

I was flattered to be asked, yet if the rumor were true and he was already married, why ask my sanction? I wrote back, primly I suppose, saying that I was the last one of whom he should ask such advice, as I knew nothing of these matters; but as it was scarcely six months since Katharine had become a widow, I thought it might be soon for her to be contemplating matrimony.

And as it turned out, he was at the time actually married. What a reckless man he was! That was to become more and more apparent as time passed.

It was not long before the new King's love of the Reformed Faith was apparent. Somerset and most of the councillors were of his way of thinking; and it seemed that the new religion had come to England.

Reformers from all over Europe were arriving in England. They sang the new King's praises.

When Gardiner preached at Winchester some five months after Edward's accession, it was expected that he, as a Roman Catholic, would attack the new doctrines and find himself in trouble. But Gardiner was a wise man; he skirted the difficult ground and proclaimed the King Supreme Head of the Church. I was sure this disappointed his enemies.

I lived very quietly throughout that year. Seymour's marriage to the Queen had caused a great deal of disapproval, but he shrugged that aside and Katharine was supremely happy. I was pleased for her, though I thought she had shown a lamentable lack of discretion in marrying so soon. I supposed she feared to lose him if she delayed. I wondered if she knew he had looked around for a match which might have been more advantageous to his ambitions. However, I was glad she was getting some of the happiness she deserved. I did fear though that she might be building on shifting sands with such a man.

I spent Christmas at Court. Edward was very conscious of his position. Naturally he would be. A great burden had been placed on his young shoulders. I hoped he would not be overwhelmed by all the adulation which came his way. He was beautiful, said the flatterers, witty and amiable; he was gentle and grave; he was already the father of his people, and if this was how he was at ten years old, how great and wise he would become with the passing of the years.

He was very gracious to me, telling me how tenderly he regarded me and that, although he called me sister, he thought of me as mother, so good had I been to him in his young years.

He was devoted to religion. I knew he always had been, but it was more apparent now. And, of course, that devotion was for the Reformed Church. I did not discuss religion with him because I felt it would be dangerous. Gentle as he was, he could be dogmatic, and when people felt as deeply as he did, intolerance was apt to creep in.

I was not sorry to leave Court. I was deeply aware of the new influences and felt it was no place for me. I went back to Hunsdon. I had my pleasant manors, my friends about me, my books, my music, and I was free to take long walks in the fresh air. I should be foolish to seek anything else at this stage.

It was during the next year that I heard of the scandal concerning my sister and Thomas Seymour. I must say it did not surprise me—knowing them both.

I was sorry for Katharine. It seemed she was doomed never to be happy. Her husbands had brought her little joy. Nurse to two of them, and with the third she had been subjected to great terror, and when she thought she had at last entered into a happy union, she found she had married a philanderer.

There were many who might have told her that this was what she would find in Thomas Seymour, but that the Princess Elizabeth should be the one involved with him was quite unexpected.

I knew there had always been an attraction between those two. My sister had been born with a shrewd nature or she might have accepted him in marriage. She would see, though, that that would have been the utmost folly. All the same, she had had a fancy for him.

Had Katharine not been aware of the flirtatious behavior between her husband and Elizabeth? Or had she shut her eyes to that which she did not want to see? Had she made the mistake of regarding Elizabeth as a child?

The story came out. There were always servants to tattle. What had they thought when the Admiral made a habit of teasing the girl, kissing her, even coming into her bedroom when she was in bed and tickling her? It was unseemly, even though sometimes the Queen had joined in the game.

There was a great deal of talk about that occasion when the Princess came into the garden wearing a black dress which Seymour said he did not like because not only was it unbecoming but it was too old for her. She should remember she was only fourteen…or was it fifteen? In any case he would not allow her to wear such a gown. Of course, it was all supposed to be fun—another of those games which the Admiral and the Princess so enjoyed and in which the Queen often joined. But the Admiral had taken a knife and slit up the skirt so that the Princess's petticoats were visible; the game had grown wilder until the gown was slit in many places and the Princess was there in the garden in her petticoats.

“My Lord Admiral,” she had cried, “you have ruined my dress. You must buy me another.” And he had replied, “Most willingly.”

It was clear that the Lady Elizabeth and the Admiral had greatly enjoyed the romp.

Jane Grey was with them, for on the King's death she had joined Katharine's household. Katharine was delighted to have her; she would be easier to understand than Elizabeth; she was such a docile, gentle creature, and Elizabeth was so unpredictable. I often wondered what Jane thought of all the rompings in that household.

It was certain to come to an end sooner or later.

Meanwhile Katharine was having trouble with Anne Stanhope, Somerset's wife. The trouble was over a matter of precedence. Anne, as wife of the elder brother, thought her place should be before that of her husband's younger brother's wife, for, Anne said, Katharine was no longer in the position of Queen, particularly as she had married so hastily after the King's death.

I was amazed at Anne. I had always been friendly with her and had quite liked her, for I had always found her reasonable. Katharine was not a woman to give herself airs, and I was sure she did not greatly care about a matter of precedence. But I thought it was rather sad that there should be this conflict.

Katharine became pregnant about the same time as Anne Stanhope did, and I believe Anne had grand ideas for her child. She was already scheming for her daughter Jane, whom she wanted to marry to Edward. My brother had been meant for Mary of Scotland, but after Somerset had beaten the Scots at Pinkie Cleugh, Mary had been carried off to France, which put an end to that project. No doubt they would get him married as soon as they could; but he had a little way to go yet before he could produce an heir.

The quarrel between Somerset's wife and the Dowager Queen flourished, but then the scandal concerning Elizabeth and the Admiral came to such a stage that it could not be ignored.

Katharine was now several months pregnant. They say that is a time when husbands often stray. That would not apply to Seymour. He would be ready to stray at any time. But it so happened that the Admiral was not careful enough, and one day the Queen opened the door of a room and found Elizabeth in the arms of her husband; and this was no game. It was obvious that they either were, or wanted to be, lovers.

I felt so sorry for Katharine. Elizabeth had been foolish, but she was only fifteen years old and Seymour was a rogue. Even Katharine could not deceive herself any longer. She must realize that her husband was a philanderer and Elizabeth a wanton. Here she was, for the first time in her life, about to taste the joys of motherhood for which she had longed all her life; and they had turned it sour for her.

I cannot imagine what happened during the scene which followed, but I did know that Elizabeth's sojourn under her roof was over. It would have been quite impossible for the child to stay after that. She would have to go.

She was sent away with her governess, Mrs. Katharine Ashley, to Cheston, and afterward to Hatfield and Ashridge.

There was a fearful state of unrest throughout the country. People never take religion calmly, and I suppose one could not expect them to slip from Catholic to Protestant without an upheaval. My father had always supported the Catholic Faith, the only difference being that he was Head of the Church of England. But Edward believed in the reformed religion and most of those about him did also; and they were determined to make England Protestant.

According to the converts, everything about the old religion was evil; saints were reviled; priests were mocked; and the Pope to them was the Devil incarnate.

Nor was this confined to words. Churches were violated, beautiful stained-glass windows smashed, altars desecrated, and there was public contempt for the old religious practices.

On the advice of François van der Delft, I remained in obscurity— though I did not need him to tell me to do that. Of course, there would be those who rose in anger against the new ideas; and I was next in succession; it was well known that I was an ardent Catholic. True, I had accepted my father's supremacy in the Church, but that was to save my life, and in my heart I had never agreed with it. Those who deplored the way the country was going would look to me.

It was an alarming time. It is always a dangerous situation when the king of a country is a minor, but when there is religious conflict—and one of such magnitude—the times are indeed perilous.

There was, of course, the Emperor. But for his powerful presence I should have been dispatched long ago. I was his cousin, so there was the family tie; and, more important, I was next in succession and I should be the upholder of the Catholic Faith. In England, good Catholics must be hoping that Edward would not long survive; they would certainly pray that he would never marry and have offspring, for then it would be my turn, and this period of aberration, this straying from the fold, would be over. Triumphantly, I would bring England back to that fold, which she should never have left.

So I remained away from Court, and it was conveyed to me discreetly that there would be no interference for the time being in the manner in which religious observances were carried out in my household.

So, in the seclusion of my manors, I lived quietly, seeing François van der Delft whenever possible and learning all I could about what was going on in the country.

I often thought of Katharine and wondered what she was feeling. She would have her child, and I believed that would give her great comfort. Poor, sad lady! Indeed, I might apply this to myself. Life was harsh to some of us.

I thought a great deal about Elizabeth and wondered how she liked being sent away in disgrace. She would make excuses for herself—she would be like our father in that. How deep had her feeling for Seymour been? What a situation! As a princess second in line for the throne, she was old enough to realize that her cavortings with Seymour might have had results.

Anne Stanhope, Duchess of Somerset, gave birth to a boy. I hoped Katharine would be lucky. But when had she ever been lucky? I could imagine her…brought to bed… longing for her child, and all the time nursing her resentment against her husband. I hoped Elizabeth felt some qualms of conscience. How could she have behaved so in her own stepmother's house! It was hard for me to understand… not so much that she should have a fancy for the man, but that she could so far forget her honor, her destiny. I was well aware that Elizabeth had her eyes on the crown. There was a certain sparkle which appeared in them every time it was mentioned. She was healthy; she was young; how could she have risked throwing it all away for a philanderer like Seymour? Perhaps she thought she could have both. She was greedy, my sister.

Katharine gave birth to a little girl. I wished her well. Seymour would have preferred a boy. Do not all men? But Katharine, I knew, would be content with the child, whatever its sex.

Then came the sad news. Katharine had fallen into a fever soon after the child was delivered. One of my women heard afterward from Lady Tyrwhit, who was attending her, what had happened.

“Poor soul,” Lady Tyrwhit had said. “She told me she knew she would not leave her bed. The Admiral was there. He seemed to be overcome with grief. He tried to comfort her but she turned away from him, and spoke not to him but to me. She said, ‘I am most unhappy, Lady Tyrwhit. Those I love have cared not for me. They mock me. They laugh at my love. They wait for my death so that they may be with others.' It was pathetic to hear the poor lady. The Admiral tried to soothe her but she would not listen. He said he would never harm her, and she answered that she thought he did not speak the truth. He begged her to remember that they loved each other and how they had wanted to be together more than anything else. She said to him coldly… oh, so coldly, ‘You have given me some shrewd taunts.' Then she turned to me and said, ‘I do not think I shall live. I do not want to live.' He wanted to lie beside her on the bed and hold her hand and tell her he loved her, to beg her to live, but she turned from him, and I told him he must go for he disturbed her rest.”

Lady Tyrwhit had wept when she told this, and when I heard it I myself felt near to tears. Very soon after that Katharine Parr passed away—such a good woman, who had never done harm to any. Life had been cruel to her.

There was change all about us, and no one knew from one day to another what would come next.

THOMAS SEYMOUR WAS one of the most reckless men I ever heard of. It was certain that he must sooner or later come to disaster. He should never have risen to such a high place—nor would he but for the charms of his sister. He lacked the good sense of his brother Edward. His were the handsome looks, the dashing personality, the ability to attract people to him; but without good sense such attributes can be dangerous.

They certainly were in his case. He had sought to charm the King and become his favorite uncle, and this he had done. That was when Edward was a child, but having had kingship thrust upon him, he had now come to a certain maturity. Frail he might be, but he was learned beyond his years; he had the pride—and, yes, the arrogance of a Tudor; although attracted by good looks he was not entirely bemused by them.

After the death of Katharine, Seymour appeared to have his feet firmly set on the slippery path to disaster.

He should have been content with his spectacular rise. His brother Edward had become the Protector of the Realm and was therefore the most important man in the country; and he himself had received great honors. But, as I said, the man was a fool and like most fools he estimated himself too highly.

He had begun his reckless acts by his marriage before the King was cold. It had been said that, if the marriage had been productive from the start, there might possibly have been a doubt as to the paternity of the child, and that could have been a very grave matter. However, that did not arise. But Seymour was a man who made wild plans and acted on them before he had had time to consider them. He had resented his brother's supremacy and had tried to win Edward's affection for himself alone. All his misdemeanors were revealed after he had gone too far and was under restraint.

Before the death of my father, Thomas Seymour had been a constant visitor to Edward's apartments; he had supplied the boy with pocket money and treated him with mingling respect and affection in a manner which had won the boy's affection and rendered Thomas the favorite uncle. When Edward was King and Somerset Protector, Thomas had talked slightingly of his brother and had tried to persuade the young King to take the government into his own hands. He, Thomas, would be beside him to help in the task. Edward listened, but he was not the simple boy Thomas evidently believed him to be.

Thomas had thought it would be a good idea if Edward married Lady Jane Grey, who was being brought up in his household. Naturally it occurred to him that, with two such children, whose affection he had won, the government of the country would be in his hands.

As soon as his wife was dead, he renewed his courtship of Elizabeth. Thomas Seymour's greatest weakness was in underestimating the intelligence of others.

How I wished I could have talked with my sister at this time. How I should have loved to know what was in her devious mind! Marry Seymour? No. That was not for Elizabeth. She had flirted with him in her stepmother's house because she was attracted by the man—most women were, and Elizabeth was not immune from masculine charm—but that had been a game to her. The practiced seducer had not understood that he was not in command of the situation.

My sister Elizabeth was one who learned her lessons, and learned them well. She had no intention of making the same mistake twice.

Scheming against his brother, trying to win the confidence of the young King, trying to persuade Elizabeth into marriage, Seymour was a menace and a traitor to authority.

There was something else against him. He had used his position as Lord High Admiral to amass a fortune. A year or so previously he had set out to capture a certain pirate known as Thomessin who used the Scilly Isles as a base when he intercepted and robbed ships of all nations. The pirate could not stand out against Seymour's superior forces and was quickly captured; but when Thomessin explained to Seymour the profitability of privateering, the Lord High Admiral agreed to turn a blind eye to these activities in exchange for a share of the profits.

Somerset had offended certain of the landowners throughout the country, and Thomas sought the friendship of these people. He then had the idea of building up a force of his own, and for this purpose he indulged in devious practices with Sir William Sherrington, a rogue such as himself, who was vice-treasurer of the Mint at Bristol. This man had made a fortune by clipping coins and other nefarious actions. Seymour, conniving at this, obtained control of the Mint and was therefore able to build up a store of ammunition. His boast was that, in addition to this store, he had 10,000 men who would spring to arms at his command.

Even the most indulgent of brothers could not have allowed this to pass, and Somerset was certainly not that. He sent for Thomas, saying he wished to talk to him. Guessing what that conversation would be about, Seymour did not appear. There was only one action to take, and Somerset took it. Thomas was arrested and imprisoned in the Tower.

That was when the story of his misdemeanors was brought to light, and very soon Sherrington, with Elizabeth's servants, Kate Ashley and Thomas Parry, were also in the formidable fortress.

Sherrington, Ashley and Parry were released but the arrest of her close servants must have been a shock to Elizabeth. Seymour was found guilty of treason; counterfeiting coins and his dealings with pirates and those whom he believed to be the King's enemies could all be called treason.

The end was inevitable. On the 20th of March he was taken out to Tower Hill and the handsome head which had charmed so many was severed from his body.

My thoughts were with Elizabeth. How much had she cared for him? I was very anxious to hear how she had received the news of his execution.

I did hear, for several had been present when she was told. She had shown no emotion. All she said was, “He was a man of much wit and very little judgement.”

Yes, she was one who learned her lessons quickly and well. I doubted she would ever again come so close to disaster through a man.

THERE WAS A NEW king in France, for shortly after my father died, François Premier had followed him to the grave. In his place was Henri Deux—a very different man from his father. If he lacked François's culture, he possessed immense physical energy. Soon we were at war with him.

The Protector had concentrated his efforts on the war with Scotland, and France and Scotland were allies. The little Queen of Scots was now being brought up in the Court of France as the bride of the Dauphin, and our possessions in France were being attacked. Hence our involvement in an unpopular war.

The people were in rebellion. Many objected to having a new religion forced on them. There were risings in Essex, Norfolk and Oxfordshire. In Cornwall churchgoers insisted on priests bringing back the Mass. I heard that rebels were massing in Devonshire and were ready to march.

Cardinal Pole's name was mentioned. “Bring him back!” was the cry.

I was getting worried. So was François van der Delft. Although it was comforting to know that so many people regretted the passing of the old religion and wanted it brought back, the more vociferous people became in its defense, the more dangerous was my position.

I knew that I was closely watched; they had not forbidden me to worship as I pleased, but that was only due to my powerful relation, the Emperor. I was certain that, but for him, I should have lost my head long ago.

There was trouble about matters other than religion. The country was in a state of upheaval. Food was not plentiful, and what there was of it was highly priced. There were great grievances over the enclosure of land which previously had been common land and open to everyone. In some places it was being fenced off by the lords of the manors; but those who had been grazing their cattle on it for years declared it belonged to the people.

It was in this connection that I first heard the name of Robert Kett. He held the manor of Wymondham in Norfolk from John Dudley, the Earl of Warwick. When men in his neighborhood pulled down the fences which had been set up by those who would enclose the common lands, Kett joined them. He was a man of some standing and soon became their leader.

He marched on Norwich, and by the time he reached that town he had a force of 16,000, so this was not just a small rebellion. It was a rising of which the government had to take some notice.

Kett set up his camp at Mousehold Heath, and a list of grievances was drawn up. The demands were not great; they wanted the power of the lords of the manors to enclose their lands to be restricted, and men to be free to fish in all rivers and set up their dovecots.

A herald arrived in the King's name offering pardon if the rebels would go back to their homes, to which Kett replied that the King should pardon the wicked, not innocent and just men.

Fighting then broke out between Kett's army and the King's men. The result was that John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, came to Norwich with an army. The rebels were no match for trained soldiers and were soon defeated, Kett being taken prisoner.

The rebellion was over. Kett was found guilty of treason and taken back to Norwich, and his body was hung in chains for all to see what happened to those who set themselves against the King and his government.

The rising had nothing to do with religion but it was an example of the general unrest throughout the country.

I knew that Somerset and Dudley were uneasy about me. If they had dared, they would have found some way of getting rid of me; but if they did so, that could arouse the wrath of the Emperor, and he might even have been induced to invade the country. There was a possibility that the Catholic population, which must be large, might have risen. It was gratifying to me, but highly dangerous.

Wherever I went, there were people to cheer me. I had made up my mind now that never again would I deny my faith. I would die rather. I saw my mission coming nearer and nearer. Edward's health did not improve… and after him, it would be my turn. I was sure many would rally to my banner. The state into which my father had led the country after his break with Rome would be at an end. I should lead England back to the fold. There were many about me … the unseen watchers … the faithful who would emerge as soon as I was there. It could happen… soon.

In the meantime I must keep myself alive. If I did not, the crown would go to Elizabeth. And what would she do… this calculating, scheming girl woman? She would do what she considered best for Elizabeth. That should not be my way. I would dedicate my life to the service of God, and that meant bringing my country back to Rome.

The Act of Uniformity had been passed in January of that year. It ordered that the Book of Common Prayer be used by all ministers. Failure to use it would mean that they forfeited their stipends, and there would be heavier—and indeed severe—punishments for second and third offenses.

I received a call from Chancellor Rich, who informed me that the Act of Uniformity must be obeyed by all, and there could be no exceptions. I told him that I would worship in my own way, and I knew from his response that he would be afraid to take drastic action against me. Once more I thanked my cousin, the Emperor.

I was told that my Comptroller, Sir Robert Rochester, and my chaplain, Hopton, were to return with Rich and his men that they might answer certain questions which the Council wished to put to them.

I felt defiant, for I sensed in Rich a desire not to offend me. The times were uncertain. Edward did not look as though he would live to maturity. I was after all the next in succession. It was true that there were many powerful men who would try to prevent my coming to the throne, but who could say what would happen? So … Rich was determined not to upset me too much.

I said, “I am afraid my Comptroller is much too busy to leave the household at present; as for my chaplain, he has been sick and is not yet recovered.”

I was amazed at his meekness. He and his party accepted my word and left.

But that was not the end of the matter. There was a further summons, this time from the Protector himself. Rochester's and Hopton's presence was requested by the Council.

I realized that I could not refuse to send them, for if I did their next move would be to come and take them away; it was better for them to go of their own accord rather than as prisoners.

I wondered whether they would be put into the Tower. There would be an outcry if they were. I myself would protest, and I would make sure that it was known that I did. The trouble all over the country must have made them pause for thought, for Sir Robert Rochester and Hopton returned shortly. They were to try to persuade me to forsake my old ways in religion and consider the enlightened form.

Van der Delft was very alarmed when he heard my servants had been taken for questioning. He went to see Somerset and told him his master would be dismayed if he came to the conclusion that I was being forced to act contrary to my beliefs.

The ambassador came to me to tell me the result of that meeting.

“The Protector has said that you may continue as you wish providing you make no great noise about it. In private, there is no objection. ‘She may hear Mass privately in her own apartments,' he said.”

It was a reprieve.

LIFE WAS NOT RUNNING smoothly for Protector Somerset. The exchequer was low, and there was no money to pay the German mercenaries who were fighting for him on the Scottish border. Consequently the Scots had gained one or two important victories, and the French were taking advantage of the situation. There was rebellion throughout the country on religious grounds, on account of the depreciation of the currency and the enclosure laws. Landowners were against him no less than the common people.

Warwick's star was rising, and Warwick was a very ambitious man who wanted to rule alone. Wriothesley, who had become Earl of Southampton, had never been a friend. He was at heart a follower of the old religion, though that was something he did not stress at this time. Warwick had scored a military success when he had put down the rising in Norfolk and was regarded as the better man by many people. Somerset, they said, had become Protector merely because he was the King's uncle. Warwick was organizing secret meetings, the object being to turn men against Somerset.

Realizing what was happening, the Protector sought to rally his friends and to his dismay found that few were loyal to him, and when the City of London turned against him he knew there was little he could do to save himself.

It was not long before he found himself in the Tower.

My brother Edward surprised me. He was supposed to be fond of his uncle but he made no move to speak for him. He accepted the imprisonment of his Uncle Edward as he had the death of Uncle Thomas—his favorite, I remembered.

Somerset put up little fight to defend himself. He had come to understand that governing a country was not as easy as he had thought. His listlessness suggested that he was eager to give up the thankless task, for he accepted all the complaints against himself, admitted failure and threw himself on the mercy of the Council.

The result was that he was deprived of his protectorate and of lands to the value of £2,000. Then he was given a free pardon. How lucky he must have felt himself to be, to have escaped with his head. Perhaps this had come about through his meekness, but I believe that his enemies might have feared the effect his death would have on the people. In any case, he was freed, admitted to the Privy Council and made a gentleman of the King's bedchamber.

Warwick clearly did not want open warfare between them at that stage and, to prove that there was no enmity between them, shortly afterward Somerset's eldest daughter married Warwick's eldest son, Viscount Lisle.

This seemed very amicable. I wondered if it occurred to Somerset that things are sometimes not what they seem.

I did not feel very easy in my mind at the thought.

ELIZABETH WAS NOW at Court. I heard that she was made much of there. I had not been invited. I should have been a little worried if I had been, but it was not difficult to understand what this new favor to Elizabeth was all about.

I was not sure what her religious views were, but I guessed they would be trimmed to the order of the day. She had said, “What does it matter how one worships God, as long as He is worshipped? Do you think He minds?”

That seemed utter blasphemy to me; and it was said with an innocence of which I did not think my sister capable.

The King was a Protestant and, the laws of the country being in favor of that religion, Elizabeth would be a Protestant. That was what the Council liked. Edward's health was deteriorating. Who next? they were asking. Mary, to plunge us back to Rome? Or Elizabeth, who will be quite accommodating?

Clearly it must be Elizabeth.

The King, I heard, was devoted to her. She would know how to sweeten him. She was brazen. Most young girls would have hidden themselves away after what had happened with Seymour. But now Seymour was dead and it might be that soon his brother would be, too. I would not trust Warwick. Elizabeth would behave as though she had never been involved in that unsavory scandal and would doubtless have everyone believing that she was an innocent and simple girl. Not so innocent. Never simple. I could imagine her, smug and content, attracting attention with her bright reddish hair and witty manner. The King would be entranced and she was in her element.

But I could not be forgotten. What did they plan for me?

I had not disliked Somerset. He was at heart a good man, I believed. He had been overcome by ambition and had seen his fortunes change when Jane pleased the King; but now they were changing again, for he had reckoned without the wily Warwick. One could never know what Warwick was planning.

I was now certain that, if my brother Edward was near to death, they would seek to remove me. Should I suddenly awake one night to find myself ill after eating something… drinking some wine?

I was an encumbrance. They knew my mind, I had made that clear. I was not of their faith. They knew I would seek to bring back the old religion and return England to Rome; and if I succeeded, what would become of these men who had followed my father and gone on to what he had never intended?

I became very much afraid. I was constantly reminding myself of the task which had been given to me. I had to save my country, and these men would do everything in their power to thwart me; and the only way to be sure of doing this would be to remove me.

I became obsessed with the notion that they were planning my death. I would wake in the night trembling, imagining hired assassins creeping into my bedchamber. I remembered the little princes in the Tower. They had been sleeping in their beds, it was said, when men crept in and placed pillows over their faces. I would start at every footfall; when messengers came, I would think they brought a warrant for my arrest. I remembered so well those terrible days when Catharine Howard had feared her death was imminent. I understood how she had suffered.

I had my mission. I must save myself if possible, and each day I was believing myself to be in more and more acute danger.

To whom could I look for help? There was only one who could save me, whose influence had been a beneficial source to me all my life; my cousin, the Emperor.

I recalled those days when I had thought I was to be his bride. I had never forgotten standing at the stairs with my mother, while the barge carrying him, with my father, came in. He was arriving to claim his bride, and that bride was myself. I could see him now, a pale, serious young man in black velvet and a gold chain, looking serene and dignified beside my glittering father. He had taken my hands and smiled kindly. I was in love with him; or I believed I was because my women told me so.

He had wanted to take me back to Spain, but my parents would not allow that. If I had gone, I might have been his wife these many years.

He had given me a ring as a token, saying the ring was a sign of his regard for me. If ever I was in distress and apart from him and sent him the ring, he would do all in his power to help me.

I still had that ring. I took it out and an idea came to me. Now was the time to send it.

I wrote to François van der Delft and asked him to come to me.

Before he could reach me, I received an invitation to go to Court for Christmas. My brother wished me to join the family. Elizabeth would be there, and I should be, too.

A fit of trembling seized me. I knew what this meant. There would be religious ceremonies, and I should be forced to observe the new ways. I should be deprived of the Mass. I was being asked not because I was a member of the family but because they wanted to show me I must conform.

“I will not,” I said to myself. “I will not deny my faith.”

So I could not go to Court. I told them that my state of health prevented my traveling.

Van der Delft arrived.

I told him of my anxieties. He was well aware of them and agreed that the situation was highly dangerous.

He said, “The King's doctors are worried about him. His health does not improve. He suffers from a persistent cough, and he has grown very thin.”

“Somerset is without power,” I said. “It is all in the hands of Warwick.” Van der Delft nodded.

“They have asked me to go to Court for Christmas,” I told him.

I saw the alarm come into his eyes.

“You know why, I see,” I said. “It is to make me conform to their way of worship. I will not, Ambassador. I will not.”

“No. So you will not go. You will plead ill health.”

“It is the only way.”

“I like it not.”

“That is why I have asked you to come and see me. I have been thinking a great deal about my position here. I am sure I am most unsafe. I do not sleep well. I am disturbed by dreams. The slightest noise and I awake in terror.”

“It is not good,” he said.

“What shall I do?”

He said, looking over his shoulder and speaking quietly, “If the King dies, which he could well do, you are the next in succession.”

“Do you think they will ever let me come to the throne?”

“They would have to. There are thousands in the country who would stand beside you.”

“They are trying to promote Elizabeth.”

“I know.”

“She will go whichever way suits her. She will follow any faith that leads her to the crown. Warwick and the Council want Elizabeth. They know that I shall turn the country back to Rome. They would do a great deal to be rid of me before… the King dies.”

He was silent. I looked at him intently. He was an old man; he suffered from the gout and he was not well. He was kindly and had been a comfort to me, but he was not like Chapuys, whom I missed very much. Van der Delft was nervous. He had been sent to serve my interests. The Emperor relied on him to keep me safe for the great project which, with Edward's health in its present state, could not be long delayed. The testing time was close.

I said, “I must get out of the country. I must have a refuge where I can live in safety until the time when I can claim my throne and do my duty to God and my country.”

“You mean escape… leave England?”

“It is what I have decided. I firmly believe that if I stay here they will find some way of ridding themselves of me.”

“They would never let you go.”

“Indeed they would not. So I must go in secret.”

He looked alarmed. “It would be a great undertaking.”

“Nevertheless, I am of the opinion that it is the only way. I have a premonition that they are plotting to be rid of me. I must foil them in that. To stay here… their easy victim…is to play into their hands. You know my health is not good. Even now I am telling them that it will not allow me to go to Court. It will be easy for them. ‘Poor Mary,' they will say. ‘She was never very strong. It was inevitable.' I can see it all so clearly. You must help me, Ambassador.”

“I will do everything I can.”

“Very well. Get in touch with the Emperor. Tell him what we have discussed. Send this ring to him. He will remember it, for he himself gave it to me long ago. When he sees it, he will know how dire my need is, for otherwise I should not have sent the ring to him.”

Van der Delft was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “I will write to the Emperor at once, and I will send a trusted messenger with the ring. There must be absolute silence on this matter. I beg of you, do not speak of it to anyone.”

I readily agreed with him.

I felt a good deal better after van der Delft left. I put my trust in the Emperor.

EAGERLY I WAITED for some reply. I felt better. I must live until the rescue came.

After weeks of my waiting, watching the roads, finding the frustration almost unendurable, van der Delft came with a reply from the Emperor.

He was hesitant so I guessed before he told me that the Emperor was not over-enthusiastic about the scheme.

“What does he say?” I commanded. “Please tell me. Hold nothing back.”

“The Emperor feels it would be a hazardous undertaking. The task of getting you out of the kingdom could be almost insuperable.”

“I know it will be difficult but surely with careful planning…”

Van der Delft nodded. He was wary. He did not tell me what I discovered later, that the Emperor had raised the point of who would support me when I arrived in his realm. I was glad I did not know that, for it would have wounded me deeply. It had not occurred to me at the time that a princess must have her household, and a cousin of the Emperor could not live like a pauper, and if I left England I would be thrown on his bounty. But van der Delft had the tact and courtesy to keep that from me. I should have remembered that, during the difficult times through which my mother had passed, the Emperor had always been too deeply involved with his dominions to give more than moral support. I should have been more realistic. I should have understood that, to the Emperor, the trials of his relations and even the break with Rome were not major concerns. He was the most successful and most powerful ruler in Europe and could not be diverted in the smallest way from the immense task of remaining so. He would help me only if that did not disturb him too much and if no sacrifices were demanded.

That was why he was not enthusiastic about my plan to leave the country. Instead he thought of a more traditional way out of my troubles. Marriage.

If I married, I could leave the country with dignity and so escape from danger.

I said, “And when the time comes for me to claim the throne?”

“The Emperor says you would have a husband to help you.”

“But I should not be here.”

“The Emperor thinks it is a good plan, and you would not be here if you escaped.”

“And whom does he suggest?”

“Dom Luiz, brother of the King of Portugal.”

“No,” I said. “No.”

“The Emperor feels it is the best solution.”

Was that a hint? If I did not agree, I could not rely on his help?

Van der Delft was putting forward his master's point of view. He reiterated, “If you escaped as you suggest, you would not be here. A husband would help you gain your throne.”

It did occur to me then that the Emperor was thinking that, if I married, I should not be his responsibility, but there was something in the suggestion that if I had to fight for my inheritance I would need help.

I began to see that my plan to leave the country was fraught with difficulties, not only in putting it into practice but in what might follow.

I felt depressed after van der Delft's visit. But I need not have worried about the proposed marriage. It was merely a proposition put forward by the Emperor and the Portuguese were as lukewarm about it as I was.

Dom Luiz gracefully extricated himself by stating that he could not agree to the marriage until there was a religious change in England, which, of course, meant that the Council refused to go further. In any case, I should have needed a dowry, and I understood the exchequer was extremely impoverished so the marriage would have been ruled out on that aspect alone.

Christmas had come. I had spent mine in retirement, pleading illness. It was a good excuse. I had had many illnesses and people believed I was not strong. Edward was not in good health either; the only one of my father's children who seemed to have escaped the weakness was Elizabeth.

I was still in a terrible state of disquiet, wondering what schemes were being concocted against me. The situation had changed little. Elizabeth was still at Court, being treated, some said, like the heiress presumptive. I might not have existed.

My Comptroller of the Household, Sir Robert Rochester, came to me one day and told me he had disquietening news.

I waited in some dismay for his revelation.

“Of course, it is only gossip, Princess, but these things sometimes hold a few grains of truth. It is said that there are changes to be made in your household and that its members are now to be prevented from hearing Mass.”

“You mean some of the members of my household…”

“No, my lady Princess, you too.”

I said, “I think I must see the ambassador without delay.”

Van der Delft arrived and I told him what I had heard. He, too, had heard the rumor and had already imparted it to the Emperor.

He had already received the Emperor's reply and was preparing to come to me when my message had arrived.

“The Emperor,” he said, “is considering the escape.”

My spirits rose. I had to face the danger of leaving England, but when one has lived in fear of death for many months, action is desirable.

Van der Delft said we should need the cooperation of people whom we could trust. I understood that. I told him that Sir Robert Rochester had always been a good friend to me, that he was a staunch Catholic and I would trust him with my life.

Van der Delft had the same opinion of Sir Robert, and we called him in to tell him of the plan.

He said he had feared for my safety for some time and was glad that I was to be taken away. He would do anything he could to help. He had a friend who had a boat. The boat could sail up the River Blackwater as far as Malden, which was close by Woodham Water, the house in which I was at this time staying. The boat could carry me out to a Flemish ship which would be waiting at sea.

“Can we trust this man?” asked Van der Delft.

“Yes. And he would not know it was the Princess he was taking. He would just see a figure in a concealing cloak. I would imply to him that I am the one who is fleeing the country.”

Van der Delft continued to look very worried. I think he felt that the project went beyond the duties expected of an ambassador. He was in poor health, and I am sure he would have given a great deal not to be involved in such an adventure.

I wondered how my staunch old Chapuys would have reacted. With a little more enthusiasm, I should imagine.

I believe that in his heart he was uneasy because of the Emperor's reluctance. My cousin had agreed to the project only as a last resort. The plan was full of weaknesses as far as he was concerned and I am sure it was only because he felt my life to be in danger that he agreed to it. After all, I should be out of the country at the crucial moment; but it was no use having me in the country… dead. I supposed the Emperor thought this was the lesser of two evils and that was the sole reason why he agreed to it.

Van der Delft told me that he would write to the Emperor telling him of Rochester's suggestion, and when he had his master's approval, the plan would be put into action.

Shortly afterward I received a further communication from van der Delft. He was being recalled and in his place would be Jehan Scheyfve. I was horrified. To exchange ambassadors in the middle of such a project seemed extraordinary to me. I began to suspect that van der Delft had asked for the exchange.

He told me that Scheyfve would shortly be calling on me, which I presumed meant that he himself was saying goodbye.

Robert Rochester came to me with an alarming piece of news. Summer was coming on, and it was in summer that tempers ran high and people's grievances were uppermost in their minds. The Council did not want a repeat of rebellions, so they were making a careful watch of the roads this summer, and people who might not be about their ordinary business would be stopped and questioned. It was the duty of every householder to take part in this watch; any who did not do so might find himself in trouble with the Council. It was for the protection of all, and they must do their duty.

“It means,” said Rochester, “that the roads will be watched and, if you are seen riding to Malden, which you almost certainly would be, the alarm would be given. Moreover, this friend of mine has taken alarm and will not be involved in this.”

I was in a quandary. Van der Delft, who had been working on the plan, was now going, and this new man was in his place. What did he know of it? I wondered.

I sent an urgent message to van der Delft. He must come and say goodbye to me…in person, I insisted.

I hoped he would understand by the wording of my message that it was imperative that I see him.

When he arrived, I was appalled by his appearance. The man looked really ill, and he was decidedly worried. I told him Rochester's news without delay.

“Then,” he said, “we have to plan again.”

“But you are going away.”

He was silent and I went on, “What of this new man?”

“It has been decided that Scheyfve should know nothing of the plan.”

“But you will not be here… and if this man knows nothing of it… what can we do?”

“Scheyfve cannot know of this. Imagine what would happen. Suppose the plot failed and he were involved… and if it succeeds and it were known that he was aware of it…he would be discredited.”

“Is that why you are being withdrawn?”

“It is that… and for reasons of health.”

I felt bewildered and very much alone. I could see that no one wished to be involved in my dangerous existence.

I was wrong. Van der Delft was a good man; he was genuinely sorry for me, and he was going to do everything he could to help.

He said to me, “If this plan is undertaken, it must succeed.”

“How can we be sure that it will?”

“We must not attempt it until we are sure.”

“I will trust in God,” I said.

He lifted his shoulders. He looked so terribly ill, poor man. I knew his gout was very painful. But still he wanted to help. He had a good secretary whom he could trust, a certain Jean Dubois; and his idea was that, disguised as a merchant, Dubois should come in a ship bringing grain for the household.

That would not be considered unusual, for grain was now and then brought to the household. When the grain was delivered, I should be smuggled out. We should be away before I was missed, and I should very soon be in Flushing.

I said, “Will you come too, Ambassador?”

He looked helpless.

“You must come,” I said. “I shall need you.”

“Dubois is a trusty servant.”

“But you must come. I must have your promise.”

He smiled at me almost tenderly. “I give it,” he said. “I shall come as a grain merchant, and we shall have you out of harm's way … in no time at all.”

I BEGAN TO WONDER if everything must go wrong for me.

When I heard the news I was astounded and stricken with grief, for, though I had compared van der Delft with Chapuys to his disadvantage, I had grown fond of him and I had relied upon him. He had been with me through a dangerous time and he had been my only link with the Emperor, whom, in spite of everything, I still regarded as my savior.

On arriving in the Netherlands, van der Delft wrote to the Emperor an account of what had happened, and as soon as he had finished he took to his bed. He had fallen into a fever and was delirious.

It was apparent that he was on his deathbed. He was suffering from gout, but it seemed that the plots for my escape had so preyed on his mind that he had become further enfeebled.

The poor man went into raving delirium and talked of the boat which was to take me away from England; he had rambled about the watch on the roads, and the dangers of getting me to the boat. There must have been many who heard it.

I received a note from the Emperor. It came sealed by way of the ambassador who, of course, knew nothing of its contents. It was very disconcerting to have an ambassador in whom I could not confide. Chapuys had been my great comfort, and after him van der Delft…and now, when I most needed help, there was no one to give it to me.

The Emperor did not want to drop the plan in spite of all the difficulties which had arisen, but he thought it must be put aside for a few weeks while his spies informed him what effect the ravings of van der Delft had had. He would send men into the markets to drink with the merchants and there discover if anything had leaked out.

In due course I heard from him again. Apparently there had been no mention of the plot, and it seemed that all was safe.

Now we were free to go ahead.

I was overcome with melancholy and great trepidation. Van der Delft was replaced by a man I did not know. A stranger was coming, disguised as a grain merchant, and I was to escape with him…to the unknown. It was a frightening proposition.

There would be ships lying off the coast, and a small grain ship would sail up the river. Grain would be delivered, and then I should be taken out to safety. It was a dangerous operation but it had the sanction of the Emperor, and Dubois was eager to carry it out with distinction.

We received a message that the merchants had arrived and would bring a sample of corn for the comptroller to see. The next step would be for Dubois to bring the corn into the house.

I had decided which ladies were going with me. I had packed my jewels. I was ready.

We heard that people were watching on the roads. They would be there on the route along which I had to pass to reach the river. It would be a great feat for any of those people to capture me; and, moreover, they would be in trouble if it were discovered that they had allowed me to slip through.

Sir Robert Rochester came to me and said that he had something on his mind and wished to speak to me. I bade him continue.

“My lady Princess,” he said. “There is a rumor that the King is in a very delicate state of health. He cannot marry. He will never produce an heir. It could be that, in a very short time, you will be the rightful queen of this country.”

“I know it,” I said. “The thought is constantly with me.”

“You are the hope of the country, Princess. Many people are waiting for you to return them to God's Church.”

I nodded and was silent.

“If you were not here,” went on Sir Robert, “it would be the Lady Elizabeth.”

“I should have to come back to claim my right.”

“It is never easy to come back, my lady.”

“Sir Robert, what are you suggesting?”

He was silent for a few seconds, and then he said slowly, “This is a desperate operation. If you are discovered, what will happen?”

“I shall be taken to the Tower. I shall be judged a traitor. I have been in communication with a foreign power. You know what that means, Sir Robert.”

“They would seize upon it. It would give them the opportunity for which they have been waiting.”

“You are telling me that it is unwise for me to go.”

“I believe, Princess, that if you go…even if the escape is successful and you reach Flanders, you will have lost a kingdom.”

I saw the reasoning behind this.

I said, “I am in fear of losing my life here.”

“That is true, but we will be watchful, and you have many friends. I believe your enemies are aware of this, and they would not dare to harm you.”

“They might by subtle means.”

“There is a possibility. But your servants love you and guard you well. They pray, Princess, for the time when you mount the throne and sweep away this evil which has taken possession of the land.”

“You are telling me I must stay.”

“It is your decision, Princess.”

“Dubois will be here soon,” I reminded him.

“You could tell him you were not prepared to go…just yet.”

“After all the preparations!”

“The Emperor will try again if he is really in favor of your escape.”

“You think he is not entirely so?”

It was then I learned that the Emperor had hesitated because he feared he would have to provide me with a household and that I should be a drain on his exchequer.

I said, “The Emperor was ever a careful man. It is the reason why he is the richest and most powerful man in the world.”

“That may be so, Princess. But would you wish to be a burden…one he might shoulder reluctantly?”

“What then, Sir Robert? Are we to tell Dubois when he comes with his grain that I will not go?”

“That is for you to say, my lady Princess. The decision is entirely yours. If you decide to go, rest assured that I will do all I can to assure your safety. It is for you to say whether you will risk staying here in order to gain your kingdom, or whether you will take an equal risk and give it away to those who would destroy it in the eyes of God.”

I wanted to be alone to think. He had reduced me to a terrible state of indecision.

I spent a restless night. I did not sleep at all. Rochester was right, I told myself. I would be throwing away my heritage if I left. I had soothed my conscience by telling myself I would return and win my kingdom when it was mine by right. But how could I do that? With the Emperor's help? Had the Emperor come to save my mother when she was in dire distress? Would not his continuing commitments demand all his attention, all his forces? That was how it had been in the past. Would it change? The Emperor would certainly wish to see the true faith returned to England, but how far would he be prepared to risk his forces to bring it about?

I had to be realistic. I had to rely entirely on my own judgement. I was in danger here. I was in constant fear that one day or night some assassin would make an end of me. I would continue to live in fear. But should I be safe in Flanders? Had not my father sent assassins abroad to try to kill Reginald Pole? They had not succeeded but they might have done so.

Let me look truth in the face. God had put me in this position. I could perform a great mission if I lived. My life was in God's hands. If He wished me to succeed in this great task, I needed His help. I needed His guidance. To go or to stay? Rochester had made me see clearly that if I went I might save my own life but in doing so lose my kingdom.

I prayed, passionately asking for guidance.

I felt the presence of God beside me, and in the morning I knew what I should do.

SIR ROBERT HAD RECEIVED a letter from Dubois.

He had arrived with the corn, and he and his men had made it known in the town that they were there. That night the water would be high in the river, and that would enable the boat to come right in. It would not be so easy after this night. Because of the tide, it would be reasonable for the boat to be in the most convenient spot at two o'clock. I should not bring too many women with me, for that would arouse suspicion.

Rochester sent a note to Dubois asking him to meet him in the churchyard. If they were seen together, there would be no cause for suspicion as it would be thought they were discussing the consignment of corn.

I saw Rochester before he went.

I said to him, “I have been questioning myself all the night.”

“I know it, Princess, and you have come to the right conclusion. You are too good a Catholic to have come to any other.”

“I have a duty,” I said. “I can do nothing else.”

He took my hand and kissed it. “It cannot be long,” he said, “before I shall fall on my knees and call you Her Majesty the Queen.”

“There is much danger to be lived through first.”

“But with God's help, my lady…”

“Yes,” I answered, “with God's help.”

We were silent for a moment. I was thinking of what we had said. If overheard, it could cost us our lives. I was certain of Sir Robert's loyalty to me, and I was exultant in the midst of my fear, for I knew I had chosen rightly.

I said, “You will go to the churchyard and tell Dubois.”

“I must break it gently,” he replied. “If I say bluntly that you are not going after all this preparation, I cannot answer for his reaction. I think it better to hint at a postponement.”

“But he says it is tonight or never.”

“Well, my lady, it is not going to be tonight.”

He went to his tryst with Dubois, and when he returned he came straight to me and said that he had told Dubois that there was no chance of my going this night. The watch on the roads had been doubled and I should certainly be stopped. “The Emperor must understand how dangerous it is,” he had said, “and when he does he will realize the necessity for postponement. The escape could have a better chance of success in the winter.”

Dubois had been deflated. He had said brusquely that he was only acting on orders and it was not for him to make decisions. He could not believe that the Princess, after all her entreaties for help, had, now the moment had come to put the plan into action, decided not to carry it out.

“He is very disappointed in us,” I said.

“He said he had had his instructions from the Emperor, my lady, and he would need letters from you discharging him from his duties.”

“He shall have them,” I promised. “It shall be known that no blame is attached to him.”

“I told him,” said Rochester, “that I would give a great deal to see you safely out of the country, and indeed I had been the first to suggest it. I impressed on him that it was not that you did not wish to go but that you felt this was not the moment, for it is very unsafe to do so and the chances of being caught, due to this watch on the roads, have been multiplied. In the winter it could be considered again. He said that to him it was just a question of to go or to stay. He merely wanted a Yes or No.”

Later Dubois came to see me. By this time I was completely convinced that I must not go.

The man was irritated. He had been sent out to perform a mission, and he would return with it unfulfillled. He needed my written word that it had failed through no fault of his and that it was entirely my decision that at the last moment I would stay.

He left us and was soon on his way to Flanders.

I do not know how the rumors got about. It is always difficult to say. A careless word here and there is taken up and exaggerated. However, rumors were circulating that I had escaped. There was talk of visits to the house at Woodham Water and of grain ships sent by the Emperor to convey me out of the country. People were intrigued by the thought of men disguising themselves as grain merchants and coming to the aid of a princess.

The Council was aware of what had happened and had all ports manned with soldiers; all ships coming in were subjected to special examination.

I was not surprised when messengers came from Court. I was asked in such a way which made it a command either to move inland or to go to Court.

My reply was my usual one. My health was not good enough to allow me to move.

I knew that I was in more acute danger than ever.