Later I heard more of what had happened. Edward Courtenay was more deeply involved than we had at first realized. He it was who, knowing of Wyatt's dislike of the Spaniards, had invited him to raise men in Kent to join the insurrections. Wyatt was enthusiastic. Long ago, he had traveled to Spain with his father, the poet, who had been arrested and taken before the Inquisition. It was something he had never forgotten, and an intense hatred of Spaniards had been born in him then. He was determined to do everything possible to stop the Spanish marriage, and he, like many others, believed that, with a Spanish consort, Spanish manners and customs would be introduced into the country.
When a number of the conspirators were arrested, Wyatt found himself the head of the revolt. He might have fled the country, which would have been his wisest course of action, but men like Wyatt are never wise. Caution and self-preservation are traits quite unknown to their nature.
Finding himself forced into the position of leader, he rode to Maidstone and there proclaimed his cause. His neighbors and friends from other counties were urged to fight for the liberty of the people which would be suppressed if the Queen married a foreigner.
Renard came to see me in great consternation.
He had his spies placed everywhere, and the most accomplished were in the household of the French ambassador, who, he said, was our most dangerous enemy. The news he had to impart was indeed disquietening.
“King Henri is planning to open a front along the Scottish border,” he told me.
“And he is hinting at giving help to the rebels.”
“He cannot do that!” I cried.
“Why not? The Scots are always ready to come against us. They will welcome him. He has twenty-four warships on the Normandy coast, just waiting until the moment is ripe.”
“Why should he help the rebels?”
“He will help them to defeat your supporters, and then he will step in to perfect his plan.”
“To put Mary of Scotland on the throne. But the rebels want Elizabeth.”
“They are simpletons, he thinks. He will get them to do the worst of the work for him, and that will be the end of them.”
“How dangerous is this? We have suppressed the risings… all except this one of Wyatt's.”
“It is this one of Wyatt's that we have to watch. The sooner you are married, the better it will be.”
“Wyatt cannot do much against trained men.”
“Wyatt has been a soldier. He is not merely some hothead with a grievance. It is disturbing that the French should be ready to involve themselves in this.”
“I should like to dismiss de Noailles.”
“It would do no good. There would be another, and it is better to have one of whose methods we know something.”
“I shall send Norfolk against them.”
I was confident at this time that the trouble would soon be over.
This was not the case. As Renard had pointed out, Wyatt was a soldier; and, to my horror, it was not Wyatt who was defeated but Norfolk. I was greatly distressed when our soldiers returned to London; they were tired, dirty and hungry; they looked like the defeated army they were. There was great consternation among the citizens. It was clear to them that this was a serious revolt.
Then came the news that Wyatt was preparing to march on London.
It began dawning on me that I was in a desperate situation. I had no army to defend me. I asked myself how far I could trust my Council. I knew them for a group of ambitious men jostling for power. There was a small faction against Gardiner. He—with my support, it is true—was too fervent a Catholic; he was accused of causing trouble by trying to force people to join in religious observances against their will and for which they were not yet ready. Gardiner turned to them and declared that the sole trouble was the Spanish marriage and he had often questioned the wisdom of that.
So there I was, in my capital city, without an army, with a Council who were quarrelling among themselves, and rebels preparing to come against me.
Wyatt's headquarters were at Rochester, where he had gathered men and ammunition and was preparing to march on London. I sent messages throughout the country, offering a pardon to all his followers who left him within the next twenty-four hours and returned peacefully to their homes, reminding them that, if they did not, they would be judged traitors.
Then we heard that he was on his way with 4,000 men.
Gardiner came to see me. He was in a state of some agitation. Clearly he felt Wyatt to be a formidable foe. He said he had sent messages to him, asking him to state his demands.
I was astounded. “This is amounting to a truce,” I said.
“Your Majesty, the situation is dangerous. We have to halt this march on London.”
“I will not parley with him. Let him come. We will face him.”
“Your Majesty does not fully grasp the danger. He is marching on us with his army. The Council has considered the matter. Your Majesty must go to the Tower immediately… no, better still, Windsor. You should not be here when Wyatt's men come into the town.”
“They shall not come into the town,” I said firmly, “and I shall not go to Windsor. I will stay here and face these rebels.”
“It was suggested that you should dress as one of the people … and mingle with them so that it would not be known who you are.”
“I shall certainly not do that. I am the Queen, and everyone must know that I am the Queen.”
Renard came to tell me that the Imperial Commissioners were preparing to leave the country. I thought that was wise, as they had been negotiating the marriage contract and the people might turn on them in their fury.
“They wish to come and take their leave.”
“Then bring them,” I said.
When they arrived, I told them to give my best wishes to the Emperor and to tell him that I would write to him and tell him the outcome of this little matter.
They were astounded by my calmness. They believed I was in acute danger. I might have been, but at that time I was so confident of my destiny that I had no fear.
When they left, I went to the Guildhall. The people, aware of my coming, assembled there.
They cheered me as I approached, and it was heartwarming to hear the cry of “God save Queen Mary!”
I spoke to them, and I was glad of my deep voice—which some had said was more like a man's than a woman's—as I heard it ringing out with confidence which seemed to inspire them and disperse some of their anxieties.
“My loving subjects,” I cried, “who I am, you well know. I am your Queen, to whom at my coronation you promised allegiance and obedience. I am the rightful inheritor of this crown. My father's regal state has descended on me. It would seem that some do not like my proposed marriage. My beloved subjects, I do not enter into this out of self-will or lust, but it is my bounden duty to leave you an heir to follow me. It is untrue that harm will come to our country through my marriage. If I thought I should harm that and you, I should remain a virgin all my life. I do not know how a mother loves her child because I have never been a mother, but I assure you that I, being your Queen, see myself as your mother, and as such do I love you. Good subjects, lift up your hearts. Remember that you are true men and brave. Stand fast against these rebels. They are not only my enemies but yours also. Fear them not, for I assure you I fear them not at all.”
As I stopped speaking, the cheers rang out. “God save Queen Mary!”
“People of London,” I went on, “will you defend me against these rebels? If you will, I am minded to live and die with you and strain every nerve in your cause, for at this time your fortunes, goods and honor, your personal safety and that of your wives and children are in the balance.”