But Reginald I had known and loved in my childhood. Did it matter that he was older than I? Did it matter that we should be unlikely to have children?
What I looked for was loving companionship, someone to be beside me, to care for me, to cherish me.
Simon Renard was the nearest I had to that, but in my heart I knew that his loyalties lay not with me but with his master, as a good ambassador's should. I tried to assure myself that the Emperor's interests were mine and that we stood together…as we always had.
Now that the Mass was being said in churches, there were bound to be protests. There were rumors of restlessness in several of the counties. From Kent, Leicestershire and Norfolk there were complaints.
My sister Elizabeth was a source of anxiety. She would not attend Mass, and Renard believed that those who wished to keep the Protestant way of worship were looking to her as a figurehead.
“She is very dangerous,” he said.
The Council sent a message to her telling her that she must conform. She did not appear at the ceremony at which the title of Earl was bestowed on Edward Courtenay, using the often employed excuse of sickness.
Renard came to me in some consternation.
“What is this sister of yours planning? She is trying to please the Protestants. While she behaves as she does she is fomenting danger. People will look to her—and believe me, there are many. She should be sent to the Tower.”
“How could I send my own sister to the Tower?”
“Merely by giving the order. I doubt not that, if there was an investigation, something could be proved against her.”
“De Noailles is showing friendship toward her.”
“She will get no good from him. His one aim is to get Mary of Scotland on the throne.”
“Mary of Scotland! How could he believe that possible?”
Renard looked at me with a hint of pity for my shortsightedness.
“Mary of Scotland is the daughter-in-law of the King of France. De Noailles is his servant. The King sees England coming to France with Mary Queen and young François King. But depend upon it, de Noailles will use Elizabeth to try to bring this about.”
“Is there no one to be trusted?”
Renard shook his head. “No one but my master, who is your friend and always will be. When you are married to Philip, you will have an even stronger hold on his affections, and you will have a man beside you. But in the meantime we have to deal with Elizabeth. We have to stop these Protestants looking to her as their new Queen.”
“It is treason.”
“Your Majesty speaks truth. So … let us begin to flout these treasonable schemes by turning our attention to your sister.”
“I cannot imprison her.”
“Not until she is implicated. But let us be watchful and begin by preventing her setting up this image to staunch Protestants. She must attend the Mass.”
“I will have her told that she must obey.”
“That will be the first step,” agreed Renard.
Before I could send the order to her, a messenger came from her with a letter begging me to grant her an interview.
I did this.
As soon as she approached me, she fell on her knees.
I said, “You may rise and tell me what it is you have to say to me. I see that you have recovered from the sickness which prevented your attending Courtenay's ceremony. You appear to be in rude health.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. I have recovered. May I say I hope Your Majesty is in good health.”
There was a look of concern on her face which told me I looked ill. She did not say I did, for she knew that would annoy me, but she implied it with a glance of compassion which made me immediately aware of the contrast between us—she so young, so vital, so full of good health, and myself ageing, pale, several inches shorter than she was, so that when we stood, she looked down on me.
I told her I was well. I repeated, “What is it you wish to say to me?”
“Your Majesty, I am deeply grieved.”
“Why is that?”
“I fear Your Majesty has lost her love for me. This makes me sad indeed. You have ever been a good sister to me, and I am desolate to think I may have done something to offend you. I know of nothing…except this matter of religion.”
I said, “You have been told many times to attend Mass, and you stubbornly refuse to do so.”
“Your Majesty, I have not had your advantage. I was brought up in the Reformed Faith, and I have heard no other.”
“There is no excuse. There are many who would instruct you.”
“Then Your Majesty has relieved me greatly. I must have instruction. Perhaps some learned man could be appointed for me. I will willingly learn. Your Majesty will understand that, having been instructed in one form of religion, it stays with one, and it is hard to change.”
I never knew whether to believe her or not. But for Renard's warning, I would have embraced her and told her that she should have tuition at once and we should be good sisters again. But I did hesitate. I knew Renard was right when he said she was wily and she must be watched. But seeing her before me, her eyes alight with enthusiasm, the look of humility in her face, the obvious eagerness to be taken back into my affections, I almost believed her.
I said, “You will attend Mass on the 8th of September. It is the day the Church of Rome celebrates the nativity of the Virgin.”
She looked a little taken aback. I tried to read her thoughts. She could not refuse. She knew that there were spies about her, all waiting for her to make some slip. Renard would be happy to see her in the Tower, considering her safer there. De Noailles would want her out of the way too. He wanted us both out of the way, to make the road clear for Mary of Scotland. On the other hand, Elizabeth was next in succession, and she only had to wait for my death.
The thought made me shiver. But I could not believe this fresh-faced young girl would be foolish enough to become involved in a plot which, if it did not succeed, could cost her the crown and possibly her head.
I kissed her. “We are sisters,” I said. “Let us be friends.”
She smiled radiantly, and I warmed to her. I knew she had been deeply hurt because, when I had been acclaimed legitimate, that could only mean that she was not. When we had both been called bastards, there had been a bond between us. As Queen I had to be proclaimed legitimate, and deeply I had desired this… not only for myself but for the sake of my mother. But I did feel for Elizabeth. It was bad enough to be the daughter of Anne Boleyn who, many believed, had been a witch.
It pleased me to be lenient with her. I would help her. It might well be that all she needed was instruction.
But I was adamant that she must attend Mass on the occasion I had mentioned.
She did appear. She came, looking pale and wan.
How did she manage it? I asked myself. I only half-believed in her illnesses. She recovered a little too quickly for them to be genuine.
She was surrounded by her ladies. They almost carried her into the chapel. When they arrived, she asked them to rub her stomach in the hope of bringing her some relief.
It was a good piece of acting—if acting it was. People would say, “Poor Princess! She was forced to attend Mass, but it was easy to see how reluctant she was. It made her quite ill.”
And it seemed to me that she had scored again.
RENARD WAS INCENSED by the manner in which Elizabeth had behaved. Far from upsetting the Protestants with her little bit of playacting, she had strengthened her position.