When the Heavens Fall (17 page)

Renard felt a surge of joy. “And what is that, Your Majesty?”

“I have decided to marry Philip, the emperor's son.”

Instantly a thrill of triumph shot through him. This was actually what he had been sent to accomplish. There were tremendous handicaps, but there were also tremendous advantages. If Mary, who was a staunch Catholic, married Philip, who was even stauncher, the Catholic hold on England would be secure again. There would be problems, but this was a major victory

“I think you have made a wise choice, Your Majesty.”

“I have prayed about it, and God has told me to marry Philip. And what God plans never fails.”

“That is very true, but many of your people have hopes for Elizabeth, and there are those who say that she has enough support to overthrow you. You have enemies, Your Majesty.”

“Which do you mean?”

“I mean, my lady, the duke of Northumberland, the kings of France and Scotland, and even Princess Elizabeth. They are dangerous.”

“You need not mention Elizabeth.”

“But she's not Catholic.”

“She will be. I will teach her myself. I will bring her, Renard, back to the true faith.”

Renard did not argue, but he knew Princess Elizabeth. He knew she was wily, intelligent, quick-witted and knew well how to hide her true feelings. “She is clever, my queen.”

“She will do as I say, Renard. I will see to that, and you will be convinced.”

Elizabeth entered the room, fell on her knees, and said, “Your Majesty, thank you for allowing me to see you.”

Mary took Elizabeth by the hand. “Rise. We must talk. There is much we have to say. You appear to be in good health. You are over your sickness?”

“Almost, Your Majesty. It was a very frightful sickness.”

Mary tucked Elizabeth's hand in the crook of her arm and they strolled down a palace hallway. “Elizabeth, I am concerned for you.”

“I'm glad of your concern, Your Majesty. You have always been good to me, and I have never ceased to be grateful.” This was true; Elizabeth remembered the time when she, much younger than Mary, had looked to her almost as a mother. But that time was past; a huge wall was between them now, with the crown teetering on it

“What is it you wish to say to me?” Mary asked

“Your Majesty,” Elizabeth said, “I feel very badly. I'm deeply grieved.”

“Why are you grieved?”

“I fear,” Elizabeth said carefully, “that you have lost your love for me, and this is a grievous thing to me indeed. We have always loved each other. If I have done anything to offend you, Your Majesty, pray let me know and it will be amended.”

Mary's face grew almost stern. She was a very direct woman when the necessity called for it, and she said, “I have expected you to help me in my task, which is to bring Catholicism back to our country. You have not been faithful in attending Mass.”

Elizabeth answered meekly, “I have not your advantages. You grew up under the tutelage of your mother, who was a Catholic, but I had no one like that.”

“No, you certainly had no mother fitted to instruct anyone!”

Elizabeth knew this was no time to argue. “I was brought up in the reformed faith,” she said quietly. “I know no other.”

“I know that is true, and that is why I am offering you someone to instruct you.”

Elizabeth answered, “I would appreciate any help you might give me. I must have instruction. Perhaps, Your Majesty, you can assign some learned man who will understand that one brought up and tutored in one form of religion must have help to make the transition to another.”

Mary stared hard at Elizabeth. “I will see that the best comes to you at once.”

Elizabeth fought to return her sister's gaze; she well knew what that hard stare meant.
She doesn't believe me, but she must—otherwise I'm lost.
She made herself smile. She bowed and curtsied. “Thank you so much, Your Majesty. I will apply myself as best I can.”

Mary's expression cleared. She leaned over and kissed Elizabeth. “We are sisters. Let us be friends.”

“Always, Your Majesty.” Elizabeth left, and as soon as she was out of the door, she put her back against it and closed her eyes.
That was very close, but I must be careful. Any love that once was between us is certainly gone now.

Late in January of the same year in which Elizabeth had promised her sister to study the Catholic faith, the word that the queen meant to marry the prince of Spain brought a flood of outrage. The English people did not like Philip. They felt that all Spaniards were thieves, and their excesses with women were well known. Many of the Protestants swore that they would die before they would submit to the reign of a Spaniard who would, in effect, be king over them if Mary married him

This feeling was widely felt across England and finally brought forth an actual rebellion. Mary heard of it early one morning, when she was informed by the Privy Council. It had called a special session, and the head of the council said, “There is a rebellion, Your Majesty. It is led by Sir Thomas Wyatt.”

“Who is he?” Mary demanded

“The son of a poet and a close friend of Anne Boleyn, probably her lover. He's been a man to watch, and now he's raised an army of sorts, and we have word that he's going to march on London and remove you from the throne.”

“He could not fight our army.”

“Your army, Your Majesty, is scattered at the moment, called to too many fronts. We have no time to gather it and turn Wyatt back,” he said. “It is a desperate situation. You must leave.”

“No. This is my capital city. I shall not abandon the throne simply because rebels dare to attack. What sort of monarch would I be? And where would it leave me? Constantly a target.”

The councillors argued mightily but Mary refused to leave

Then Renard brought word that Wyatt was advancing with four thousand men. “We've sent messages to him asking him to state his demands, but it has not slowed his pace. Your Majesty, you don't fully understand the danger.”

But Mary did understand the danger. She was wise about such things. She kept her head, and enough of her loyal subjects—and a sizable remnant of her army—came to her defense. Wyatt had no real strength. By the time he got to London, most of Wyatt's men had faded away. Wyatt's attempt failed miserably

Bishop Gardiner, Mary's lord chancellor, came to tell her. “Wyatt is arrested and is now in the Tower. You should send Elizabeth there too.”

“Elizabeth! Why should I send her there?”

“We have evidence that she was involved in the Wyatt's rebellion.”

“What evidence?”

Gardiner seemed uncertain. “You must send her there. She's dangerous.”

There was a lengthy argument, but finally Mary agreed. On March 17 Elizabeth was arrested and sent to the Tower

Stuart stared at the messenger, Charles Freeman, who was, he knew, a loyal friend of Elizabeth. “Princess Elizabeth in the Tower! Impossible!”

“I'm afraid not, sir. I saw her myself. She was taken through Traitor's Gate. It was pouring down rain, and she refused to go in. But at last she was persuaded.”

After Freeman left, Stuart went to Heather, told her what he had heard, and said, “I must go to Princess Elizabeth.”

“What do you intend to do, Stuart?”

“I've always been friendly with both the princess and the queen. Elizabeth must be frightened out of her wits, fearing she'll be beheaded next. I need to do what I can to encourage her.”

“Mary may turn on you.”

“She may. I'll have to chance it.” He kissed her and said, “I'll be back as soon as I can. Don't worry about me.”

“I will not worry, but I will pray that you will find favor with the queen.”

Elizabeth was in a dark corner of her cell. She had been deprived of all her servants except one old woman—who was no help at all—and had been questioned many times already by various members of the council, all determined to prove that she was involved in the plot. She had been kept in close confinement and given nothing but the coarse food of the rest of the prisoners. Hearing the sound of the door of her prison open, she stood up,
expecting and dreading another interrogation. Her heart leaped slightly when she saw it was Stuart Winslow. He came to her at once and knelt before her and took her hand, which she held out. “Princess, I've come to give you what poor comfort I can.”

Elizabeth kissed his hands, and he felt the tears fall on them

“You must not lose hope,” he said. He took a liberty that he would never have dared taken in other circumstances. He put his arm around her as if she were his daughter and said, “God will not allow you to perish.”

Elizabeth said, “Your coming encourages me, Stuart. I can offer you very little in the way of refreshment.”

“My refreshment is to see you cheerful and full of faith.”

“You do me good, Stuart Winslow! You have always been good to me and to my family.”

“I hope so. Now, tell me all that has happened.”

Elizabeth had no one to confide in, and she poured her heart out to this man who had been, indeed, like a light in a dark place. She had learned to love him and trust him as, perhaps, she trusted no other man in England

When she had finished, Stuart said gently, “God is in control. He is sovereign.”

“That's true, isn't it?”

“Yes. He pulls some down and he raises others up, the Scripture says. Heather and I and Quentin will pray, and we will ask others to pray.”

Elizabeth felt the tears rise again in her eyes. “I never weep, but I can't help it now.”

“Weep then, but inside your heart you must have faith.”

Elizabeth, Princess of the Realm, held on to Stuart Winslow's hands, and as he poured comfort into her, she vowed, “I will never forget this devotion, Stuart Winslow—never!”