Виктория Холт - In the Shadow of the Crown

Stafford was becoming more vociferous. It was clear that the influence of the French King was making him very confident. It seemed as though Henri might be using Stafford as he had attempted to use others before; this put a new aspect on the matter.

Stafford was declaring that the Spanish marriage was a disaster and that the Spaniards were preparing to land in England, bring in the Inquisition and make England a vassal of Spain.

I knew how inflammatory such talk could be. He called himself “the Protector,” and he had supporters in England who were already urging the people to rise and fight the Spaniards who were dragging the country into war.

He landed in Yorkshire and took possession of Scarborough Castle. It was a foolhardy thing to do. His forces were pitiably small and lacked the means to fight against us. It was hardly a battle.

He was soon captured and brought to London, where he was tried and hanged and quartered at Tyburn.

That was the end of the Stafford rebellion, but it changed the minds of those waverers on the Council.

The French part in the affair was apparent, and we had to make it clear to them that we would not have them meddling in our affairs.

So Philip achieved his object through Stafford rather than through me. England was at war with France.

THOSE WERE HAPPY DAYS. Philip was in high spirits. Well, perhaps that is an exaggeration. Philip could never be in high spirits; but let me say he was pleased. He looked better, and he had the air of a man whose mission is accomplished.

I was expecting him to declare his intention to depart, and when he did not and seemed to be happy to be with me, my joy was boundless. I had come from the depth of despair to the heights of happiness.

He discussed military preparations with me; and the only time he left me was when campaign strategy had to be worked out with the generals, in which he said I should not be interested.

Ruy Gomez da Silva had left soon after Philip arrived. He had returned to Spain to raise the necessary army and funds for the proposed war.

I was as happy as I had been in the first days of my marriage. I was believing once more in the love of Philip. He wanted to be with me, I told myself. He was finding it difficult to tear himself away. When he had conquered the French, he would return to me, and we should live happily together.

As for the Duchess of Lorraine, she was just a memory to me—and, I hoped, to Philip. There was no question of philandering now. There would have been no time for him to indulge in such things. When he was not with his generals, he was with me.

I threw myself into the task of raising money to support the army.

It was wonderful to share a project. We talked of it incessantly. There was even time for a little hunting, and with Philip beside me that was a great joy. I found such pleasure in being in church with him. A fervent devotion to religion was something we shared. He was as eager to attend the service as I was, and to worship together brought us even closer, I was sure.

I knew that every day he asked if there was any message from Ruy Gomez. I tried not to think of it. He did not mention it, but I knew he was eagerly awaiting the return of his friend.

And then at last the news came. Ruy Gomez da Silva was in the Channel, and with him was the Spanish Fleet. They were ready to go into battle.

From the day Ruy Gomez was sighted, Philip was all eagerness to be gone; and only ten days later, he was ready to leave.

He was to join the Spanish Fleet at Dover. I was wretchedly unhappy and wanted to be with him as long as possible so, sick as I felt, I insisted on making the journey with him from London to Dover.

I cherished every moment of those four days we spent on the road. We halted three times and that last night at Canterbury was a bittersweet one for me.

I could scarcely bear to look at the ship which was going to take him away from me, but he could not hide his eagerness to be gone. It was his duty, I told myself. He had to defend his country. It was not that he wished to leave me .

He bade me a tender farewell, but even then I could not help being aware of his impatience to be gone.

Sadly I stood on the shore, watching until I could see the ship no longer.

I had a terrible presentiment that I should never see him again.

BEFORE PHILIP LEFT, he asked Reginald to look after me.

“I know your regard for each other,” he said. “It is rooted in the Queen's youth. You alone, Cardinal, can comfort her.”

The trouble had begun just before Philip left. The Pope, who had made himself Philip's enemy, declared he was deeply dissatisfied by the manner in which the return to Rome had been conducted in England. I had to admit he had some cause for complaint. I had thought it would be a simple matter and that, once the law was changed and the Pope acknowledged as Head of the Church, everything would be as it had been before the break.

There were certain facts which had escaped my attention. With the break and the introduction of Protestantism, many of the churches had been destroyed; the monasteries had been dissolved, and their lands sold or given away. The Exchequer was very low, and the war with France was depleting it further. It seemed to the energetic Pope that we were not really trying; and for this he blamed Reginald.

It was unfair. Reginald had never forgotten his duty to Rome. He had been placed in a very difficult position when the Pope and Philip had become enemies, for as a cardinal he owed his allegiance to Rome. We had brought England back to Rome, and now the Pope regarded us as his enemies, for friends of Philip were enemies of his. Moreover, Paul had allied himself with France—so we were at war with him.

Paul blamed Reginald, who was supposed to be my guide and counsellor, and he had allowed me to be persuaded to join the alliance with Spain against him.

The Pope was withdrawing all his legates from Philip's dominions, and that meant that Reginald himself was recalled. He was to be replaced by Cardinal William Peto.

To add to his tribulations, Reginald was accused of heresy. This was absurd but typical of the fiery Pope. He was good to his friends but could not hate his enemies enough, it seemed; and, having decided that Reginald was serving Philip and myself, he was determined to destroy him.

His next move was to command Reginald to appear before the Inquisition. True, he had been appointed Archbishop of Canterbury, but in the Pope's eyes he was guilty of heresy because he had not succeeded in bringing England back to Rome as he should.

I am sure Reginald was not afraid of facing the Inquisition; he would never fear bodily torment or even death; but he was bitterly wounded by the Pope's treatment of him, for he had always been a loyal son of the Church. It was the break with Rome which had made him an exile; his entire life had been changed because he had been faithful to his beliefs. My father had loved Reginald dearly before the disagreement between them; it would have been easy for Reginald to have denied Rome and kept my father's favor. What a different life he might have had if he had done so! But he had been true to his faith… and now, to be accused of heresy…it was more than he could bear.

He was seized with tertian fever and became very ill indeed. He had been ill for a long time but now he seemed to have lost something of himself. He became vague and suddenly, in the midst of a discussion, he would seem to lose his way and wonder what we were talking about. He would wander through the Court, unsure of where he was going. It was very sad to see him.

I felt I was losing one of my dearest friends—for already he seemed more dead than alive.