Later I believed this was so, for when he had gone, people talked more freely of him, and I have to admit that whenever possible I urged them to do so. There came a time when I felt a certain masochistic pleasure in torturing myself, when I wanted to learn the truth about my marriage.
Then I reminded myself that I was old and he was comparatively young… that I was to him a kind of maiden aunt.
But for the time being I was blissfully happy.
We left Winchester for London and crossed London Bridge at noon, surrounded by the nobility of Spain and England. We were greeted by the pageantry one grows accustomed to on such occasions; but what pleased the people most, I am sure, were the ninety-seven chests—each over a yard long—which contained the bullion Philip had brought with him.
We came to Whitehall, where celebrations continued. These were, however, cut short by the death of the old Duke of Norfolk. I insisted that the Court go into mourning. Poor Norfolk! The last years of his life had been very melancholy. After narrowly escaping being beheaded by my father, he had been a prisoner all through the last reign; and when I had come to the throne, he had been released but his luck had not changed. He had led an inferior force against Wyatt and had suffered the humiliation of being defeated, which would be heartbreaking for a man of his caliber. So it seemed right to put on mourning for an old friend.
At Windsor the ceremony of the Garter was officially performed, and I was happy to see Philip honored. I wanted to give him so much, which could seem only very little after all the happiness he had brought me.
Susan used to watch my exuberance with a certain fearfulness. I know I behaved like a young girl in love; but, if I was not a young girl, I was certainly in love, and older people's feelings can be so much stronger than those of the young, particularly when happiness comes to them late in life after much tribulation.
I wanted Philip to have a coronation. So did Renard, who came to see me about the matter and to stress what a good thing it would be.
“He would take so much of the burden from your shoulders. You have too much to contend with. You must see that he is given the status here that he so richly deserves.”
“I would willingly give it,” I said.
“There is nothing I want more. I will speak to the Council.”
I did.
Gardiner said, “The people would never accept it.”
“I am the Queen,” I reminded him. “I intend to rule as my father did.”
“It was different in your father's day. It is not long since people flocked to Wyatt's banner. There is your sister…”
“I know you want to have her…removed… but I will not allow that. She is not concerned with this. I am sure the country would welcome a king to help in governing them.”
“The time has not come…yet,” insisted Gardiner.
It was a sort of compromise. Not yet, he said. He must mean that we should wait awhile.
I had to admit that he was right, for after that first enthusiasm when we had our ceremonies and pageants, which people always enjoy, they began to display their dislike of foreigners in general and Spaniards in particular. It was said that there were more Spaniards than English in the streets of London. “England is for the English,” was their cry. “We want no aliens here.” Those who had come in Philip's train were rich, and that aroused the people's envy. Children called after them in the streets and threw stones at them. Quarrels were picked and there was frequent fighting. The Spaniards began to fear that it was unsafe to go out alone, for they were constantly being robbed.
I was ashamed of my countrymen, but Philip remained calm and as courteous as ever; he would not give up his Spanish household and, as I had provided him with English servants, he kept the two, which must have been a great expense; but as he could not easily dismiss those I had found and would not give up those he had brought, he accepted the cost.
I wished that we could have talked more openly together. I wished I had known what was in his mind. There were constant dispatches arriving from the Emperor. Philip would spend most of the day dealing with them. I saw very little of him except in company, and when we were alone in our bedchamber, very few words were spoken.
It was in September when I believed I might be pregnant. I had suffered through my life from internal irregularities, so I could not be sure, but I had a certain exultant feeling within me. I felt blessed, and I said to myself: This is what the Virgin experienced when she was visited by the angel.
This was what I had longed for. A child of my own! Everything I had endured… all my troubles… they were all worthwhile, if I could hold my own child in my arms.
I was afraid to say anything. I was fearful that it might not be so.
But it must be. Why else should I have this feeling of exultation?
SEPTEMBER PASSED. EACH DAY I became more sure. I wanted to sing out to the housetops, “My soul doth magnify the Lord …I am to have a child…a child of my own. It will be a son. It must be a son.” Oh, what rejoicing there would be! If only the time would pass more quickly. When could I expect the birth? Next May perhaps? The child would be my firstborn. Who knew? There might be others…
I could think of nothing but my child.
Susan knew that something had happened. She waited for me to tell her. But I did not just yet, hard as it was to keep a secret. I was afraid that she would remind me of my weakness which had been with me all my life.
“Are you sure?” she would say. “Can Your Majesty be sure?”
I could not bear that there should be a doubt; and she would doubt, I knew. She would say, like the rest: She is nearly forty years old. She is too old for childbearing. She has her weakness. It is a recurrence of that which we have known before.
No! No! I argued with myself. This is different. I am no longer a virgin. I am a wife…a passionately loved wife.
Passionately? Was Philip passionate? How could I know? What experience had I of passion? He seemed eager and loving. He did care for me. He did, I vehemently assured myself.
At last I could not resist telling Philip. We had retired for the night and were alone together.
I said to him, “Philip, I think it may be so…I believe it to be so…” He looked at me eagerly.
“I believe I am with child,” I concluded.
I saw the joy in his face, and my heart swelled with happiness.
“You are sure…?”
“Yes, yes…I think it may be so.”
“When… when?”
“I cannot be quite certain of that. Perhaps next May we may have our child.”
I saw his lips moving, as though in prayer.
A FEW WEEKS PASSED. I was terrified that I should be proved wrong; but so far I was not.
I had told Susan now. She looked alarmed.
“Why, Susan,” I said, “you should rejoice.”
She replied, as I knew she would, “You are sure, Your Majesty?”
“I am absolutely sure.”
“May God guard Your Majesty,” she said fervently.
I knew what she was thinking. I was old… too old… for childbearing. I was going to prove them wrong. I was not yet forty. Women had children at that age. I was small and slight—not built for the task of bringing children into the world. They would all have to change their minds. I would make them.
I was faintly irritated with Susan. She did not share my pleasure. I would have reprimanded her but I knew it was out of her love for me that she was apprehensive.
Philip said to me, “The French are plaguing my father. I should be there to help him.”
A cold fear ran through me. “He will understand that you must be here,” I said.