Philippa Carr - Lion Triumphant

“So you are worried about Honey.”

“All my life there have been these persecutions. I fear that will continue. As soon as I heard that the Bishop of Winchester had been arrested I thought of Honey.”

“You think that the new Queen will begin to persecute the Catholics?”

“I think her ministers may well do so. And then we shall have all the old fears returning.”

Then we talked about Honey and how happily she had married and my mother’s apprehension was eased when she thought of Honey’s happiness.

That helped a little.

It was Christmas time and we celebrated it in the great hall at the Abbey. The smell of baking filled the house and it was going to be a merry Christmas, said my mother, to celebrate not only the birth of Our Lord but the accession of our new Queen. I believe she thought that by acting as though she were sure everything was going to be wonderful, it would be.

My father had been gone so long now that we no longer expected him back. Most of our servants had been monks and had known him from his childhood. They believed there was something mystic about him and they did not question his disappearance. Nobody mourned him as they did a dead person; they never had. Therefore there was no reason why we should not celebrate Christmas with all customary rejoicing.

The festival would go on for the twelve days of Christmas and what pleased my mother was that Honey and her husband would be with us.

They came a few days before Christmas. Whenever I saw Honey after an absence her beauty struck me forcibly. She was standing in the hall; it was snowing slightly and there were tiny sparkling flakes on her fur hood. There was faint color in her cheeks and the wonderful violet eyes were brilliant.

I embraced her warmly. There were at moments great affection between us and now that she had her doting Edward she was no longer jealous of my mother’s special love for her own daughter. Her name was Honeysuckle. Her mother, who had entrusted her to my mother’s care, had said that she smelled the honeysuckle when her baby was conceived.

My mother had heard the arrival and hurried into the hall; Honey threw herself into her arms and they looked long at each other. Yes, I thought, Honey still loves her passionately. She will still be jealous of me. As if she need be, she with her glowing beauty and her loving husband, and I with Carey lost to me forever.

Edward stood behind her, rather self-effacing, gentle; he would be a good husband.

My mother was saying that they should have Honey’s old room, for she was sure that was where they would wish to be, and Honey said yes, it would be lovely; and she slipped her arm through my mother’s and they went up the great staircase together.

It was a merry Christmas for all except me; and at times even I found myself dancing and singing with the rest. Kate came with ’Colas, and Rupert came too; and my grandmother and the twins were of course with us. We spent the day at Grandmother’s house, which was within walking distance of the Abbey. She was rather vain of her cooking, for she excelled in the kitchen. She had roasted pigs and turkeys, great pies and tarts, and everything was flavored with her special herbs in which she took such a pride. Grandmother had lost two husbands, both murdered by the State; but there she was, red-faced, puffing and purring from the kitchen where she had been scolding her maids. One would never have guessed there had been any tragedy in her life. Should I be like that one day? Oh, no, Grandmother would know nothing of love as I knew it.

There were the usual Christmas customs; we decorated the halls with holly and ivy; we gave presents at New Year; and on Twelfth Night ’Colas found the silver penny in the cake and was King for the night; he was carried around on the men’s shoulders and chalked crosses on the beams of our hall, which was supposed to be a protection against evil.

I noticed my mother’s eyes as she watched him and I guessed she was thinking of Honey’s Catholicism and my unhappiness over Carey; and she was secretly praying for us both.

Kate and Honey stayed with us for the coronation which was to be on January 15.

Kate, as Lady Remus, and Edward, as the heir to Lord Calperton, were entitled to ride in the royal procession and Honey invited me to accompany her; so I was there. We assembled at the Tower whither the Queen came from Westminster Palace by barge. It was a marvelous sight, and it lifted the spirits in spite of the keen winter air. The Lord Mayor was there to offer his loyal greetings and with him were the city companies. We saw the Queen land at the private stairs on Tower Wharf.

We went home after that and a few days later the Queen came into the City to receive the loyal greetings of her subjects before her Coronation. The pageants were exciting; and there was a change which was growing more and more apparent every day. No one would mention as they had freely during the last reign that Elizabeth was a bastard. It would be more than anyone’s life was worth to say such a thing. In the pageants the House of Tudor was praised. For the first time effigies of the Queen’s mother, Anne Boleyn, were displayed side by side with those of Henry VIII. Elizabeth of York, mother of Henry VIII, was represented adorned with white roses and she was handing the white rose of York to her husband, Henry VII, who offered her the red rose of Lancaster. All along Cornhill and the Chepe pageants were staged; and children sang songs and recited verses in praise of the Queen.

Her coronation was inspiring. I was not in the Abbey, but Kate as a peeress was and she described it to us. How clearly the Queen had spoken, how firmly she had gone through the ceremony complaining, though, that the oil with which she was anointed was grease and smelled ill; but she had looked impressive in her Coronation robes and the trumpets had been magnificent. Kate was sure that the leading nobles had been ready and willing to kiss her hand and swear allegiance—particularly her handsome Master of Horse, Robert Dudley.

“Rumor has it,” said Kate, “that she will marry him. She clearly has a fancy for him. Her eyes never leave him. We shall see a royal marriage ere long, mark my words. ’Tis to be hoped her fancies are not so fleeting as those of her father.”

“Tell us about her gown,” said my mother quickly.

So Kate described the dress in detail and they were all as merry as they had been on Twelfth Night.

My mother, though, remained anxious and when we heard that Pope Paul had publicly declared that he was unable to comprehend the hereditary rights of one not born in wedlock, she was quite frightened. The Pope in his declaration went on to say that the Queen of Scots who was married to the Dauphin of France was the nearest legitimate descendant of Henry VII and he suggested that a court be set up under his arbitration to determine the justice of the claims of Elizabeth and Mary to the throne of England.

This Elizabeth naturally haughtily declined.

But my mother’s anxiety increased.

She said to me: “There is going to be a conflict between Protestant and Catholic once more, I fear, and the Queen of Scots will represent the Catholics and Elizabeth the Protestants. Dissension in families … it is what I dread. I have seen too much of it.”

“We shall not quarrel with Honey because she is a Catholic,” I soothed. “I believe she only became one because she wanted to marry Edward.”

“I pray that there will be no trouble,” said my mother.

She visited Honey for a week and when she came back she seemed in better spirits. She had talked to Lord Calperton.

He was old and set in his ways, he had said, but he was going to send young Edward out to the West Country. He had an estate near Plymouth. Edward was fiercer in his beliefs than his father and if he was going to talk rashly—which he might well do—it was better for him to do it as far from the Court as possible.