Виктория Холт - In the Shadow of the Crown

My fortieth birthday had come and passed. How the years pressed on me! If Philip did not return soon, I should be too old for childbearing.

I still cherished the hope.

Why did he not come? I asked myself again and again. Always it was the same answer when I wrote to him pleadingly: “I will come soon…as yet there are duties which keep me here.”

He wrote that he must go to Flanders to celebrate his coming to power there, as well as in Spain.

There were malicious people to bring me news of those celebrations. Philip was playing a big part in them. He was giving himself up to pleasure. It was difficult to imagine Philip's doing that. He had always been so serious when he was with me.

“Why does he not come?” I kept demanding of Susan and Jane.

“What can be keeping him all this time?”

If they were silent, I would make excuses for him. His father had renounced the realm in Philip's favor, I reminded them. He was no longer merely the Prince of Spain but the King. He had his obligations.

But I was worried. Reginald could not help me. He was very ill, and I was discovering that he was not a practical man. He was clever and learned, but I needed advice.

I was desperately worried about the burnings, in spite of the fact that I told myself it was God's will. I heard terrible stories of wood which would not ignite properly, of people who were scorched for hours before they finally passed away. Some of the screams were terrible. Men talked of Cranmer, Ridley, Hooper and Latimer, but there were humble folk, too… the unlearned who had been led astray. Having been on my errands of mercy, disguised as a noble lady with no hint that I was the Queen, I had learned something of the lives of these people. I felt it was wrong to send them to a fiery death simply because they were ignorant and saw themselves as martyrs.

If only Philip were here! But he upheld the Inquisition in his land. He would bring it to England, and persecution would be intensified then.

To whom could I turn?

I decided to send to Flanders to find out the real cause for Philip's continued absence. Were those stories of his adventurings true? I could not believe them. But then, just as I had never understood my sister Elizabeth, I did not understand Philip either. I was too downright, I supposed. I was at a loss with those people who showed a certain front to the world when they were secretly something else.

At the same time I sent a messenger to the Emperor. I had the utmost respect for his judgement. I had always regarded him as one of the most shrewd leaders in Europe, possessed of great wisdom.

I wanted him to be told of the heretics who made martyrs of themselves and the effect it was having on the people. I had always wanted to persuade … to coerce perhaps… and only rarely impose the final penalty. The Emperor might give me his views. There was another point. People varied. What the Spaniards accepted, the English might not. I wanted him to know that there was discontent throughout the kingdom and that even the most faithful to the old religion felt a repugnance toward the fiery death—particularly for men who had led good lives—men such as Hugh Latimer, for instance.

Why did I expect Charles to understand? On his orders, 30,000 heretics in Flanders had been either beheaded or buried alive. And Philip? What did he care for those people? The numbers who had died in England since the rules were introduced were infinitesimal compared with those who had suffered at the hands of the Inquisition.

No, the Emperor would think, with Philip and some members of my Council, that I was a foolish woman, and that a woman needed a man beside her if she was to rule with a firm hand.

I was ready to agree. If only he would come!

He had so many commitments now, he wrote. As soon as it was possible, he would be with me. It was only duty which kept him from me! Duty! Paying homage to beautiful women in Brussels! Was that duty?

I was told that Ruy Gomez da Silva had told our ambassador that Philip could not come because his astrologer had prophesied that, if he returned to England, he would be assassinated. Therefore he felt it wiser to stay away. After all, the Spaniards had been treated rather badly when they were in England. They had been shunned almost everywhere; they had been robbed and often attacked. It was small wonder that the King was inclined to listen to his astrologer.

I was ill… sick with disappointment. My women were anxious about me. They thought of everything they could do to amuse me for a while, but I was not amused. Even Jane the Fool could not bring the slightest smile to my lips.

I was with Susan and Jane Dormer one day when they began to chide me for my listless attitude. I was not eating enough; I was staying in my apartments, brooding.

“It will be different when the King returns,” I said.

“Your Majesty should try to enjoy what is here for your pleasure.”

“My heart is with my husband,” I replied.

“You must know that.”

“But he does not come, Madam,” said Jane Dormer sadly.

“He has too much with which to occupy himself.”

I caught a glance which passed between them. Susan's lips were a little pursed. Jane lifted her shoulders slightly. It was as though Jane were asking a question. I distinctly caught the faint shake of Susan's head.

“What have you heard?” I demanded.

Jane flushed scarlet. Susan was more self-contained.

She said, “I doubt little that Your Majesty does not already know.”

“Then why is it that you have decided not to tell me?”

They opened their eyes wide and looked at me, assuming innocence. But I knew them well, and I guessed there was something they were keeping from me.

“Susan…Jane…” I said.

“Have you joined the ranks of my enemies?”

“Your Majesty!”

“You are hiding something from me.”

“But Your Majesty…”

“Susan, what are you afraid to tell me?”

“Oh … it was nothing. Just idle gossip.”

“Concerning me.”

They were silent.

“And the King… was he concerned?” I persisted.

Susan bit her lip. “It is all nonsense. There will always be rumors.”

“And these rumors?”

Susan looked at Jane and Jane at Susan. It was Susan who spoke. “They are saying that the King will never come back.”

“Why should he not?”

“They are saying, Your Majesty, that he prefers to be somewhere else.”

There was silence. Jane fell to her knees and, taking my hand, kissed it.

“Oh, Your Majesty,” she said earnestly, “I wish all could be well with you. I pray he will come soon and show how he loves you… and that there will be a child.”

“I pray for it, Jane.”

“I, too, Your Majesty,” added Susan.

I looked at her. There was an expression of infinite sadness on her face. I had known Susan for many years. She was one of those most dear to me. I trusted her. I knew of her love and devotion.

“You do not believe that he will come, Susan,” I said. “And you know something which you are afraid to tell me.”

She could not dissimulate. She was my honest, open Susan.

She drew a deep breath and said, “There are rumors. But there are always rumors.”

“And these rumors? Come. Since they are only rumors, we need not believe them if we do not wish to.”

“That is so, Your Majesty.”

“Then tell me what you have heard. It is not good that I should be kept in the dark.”

“Your Majesty has suffered. Only those of us who have been near you know how much. I cannot bear to see Your Majesty suffer… and to remain deluded.”

“Deluded? What of these rumors? They concern the King. You must tell me.”

Still she was silent.

“Susan,” I commanded. “Tell me.”