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The people had chosen me for their Queen. I thought that meant that they were ready to turn back to the Catholic Church and that it would be just as it was before my father broke with Rome.

When it was learned that I intended to return to papal authority, there was dismay in all quarters…even where I had least expected it.

I can see now that few people cared as strongly about religion as I did. There were many who were ready enough to go back to the way it had been during the last years of my father's reign. The religion itself had not changed then. All that had happened was that the monarch was the head of the Church instead of the Pope.

There was another point. Almost every nobleman in the land had profited from the dissolution of the monasteries and acquired Church land, and they would be in no mood to give that up.

All the ambassadors were a little shocked—even Renard, who, I had thought, would be entirely with me.

“You are moving too fast,” he said.

I could not believe that I had heard aright.

“But this is what I have always intended,” I protested.

“The people know it. It is why they have made me their Queen.”

“There will be trouble throughout the country, and Your Majesty is not secure enough to withstand trouble.”

“What do you mean? Did they not proclaim me? Have you not heard how they shout for me in the streets?”

“They shouted for you because they see you as the true heir to the throne, and the people did not like the succession to be meddled with. But have a care. There are many Protestants in this country. They might accept a return to the Catholic Faith, but to take the Church back to Rome at one stroke…it would be too much… too soon.”

“But it is my mission…my purpose.”

“I know … and a worthy one. But go slowly… feel your way. Leave things as they are at the moment.”

“But I will have Mass heard in the churches.”

“That…yes. But do not press for a return to Rome… not yet.”

He was not the only one to warn me. De Noailles, the French ambassador, called. I did not trust him. He was a very wily man. I had known for some time that he was more of a spy than an ambassador. Most of them were, of course, but de Noailles more than any. I knew he hated the thought of my closeness to Spain. Simon Renard, as my cousin's emissary, was a confidant as well as an ambassador. De Noailles knew this, and I believe he wanted to drive a wedge between us, for France and Spain were perennial enemies. If the French had heard of a possible match between myself and Philip of Spain, they would do everything they could to prevent it.

But this time he was in agreement with Simon Renard. France, like Spain, wished to see England back under the papal authority; but they could foresee revolt in England if it came too suddenly. They had just seen Jane Grey made Queen—albeit for only nine days—and they realized how dangerous the situation was and how uncertain my grip on the crown. There was my half-sister Elizabeth waiting to seize her chance.

I was warned not to be too fervent a papist.

Gardiner was one of the few who supported me, but I remembered that he had made no protest when my father had declared himself Head of the Church; and now that there was a new sovereign who believed that the country should return to Rome, he was in agreement with that. Protestants, who must be deploring his release from the Tower, called him Turncoat and Doctor Doubleface.

At the opening of Parliament Gardiner was the one who announced that it was my intention to return to Rome. That was all, but the views of so many which I received afterward influenced me, and I understood that I must not act too quickly; and nothing more was done about the matter at that time.

In the same Parliament I wanted it known that the harsh laws which my father had set up were to be relaxed. A great many people had suffered under my father's rule; I wanted mine to be more merciful.

I found a certain relief in writing to Reginald because I was sure that, from the Continent, he would be watching events in England with great concern.

“I had thought it would be simple,” I wrote to him. “I thought it could be changed at once. But I have been warned. The Emperor's ambassador has warned me. I must not be too hasty. The people are not yet prepared. But I trust you do not think me dilatory. Please do not think for a moment I am failing in my purpose. But I dare not yet show the people my intent.”

He would understand, I felt sure.

How I wished he were younger—and with me. I felt uneasy about the proposed match with Philip. I wondered a great deal about him. I had heard that he lacked the astuteness of his father. Well, that was to be expected as the Emperor Charles was known as the wisest ruler of the age.

Philip, I was told, was deeply religious. On the other hand, he had led rather a wild life, some said. I had heard that he was sensuous and fond of women. That was what alarmed me. He had been married before, to Isabella of Portugal, who had died three years later giving birth to a son, Don Carlos, who must be about six years old. If Philip was looking for passionate excitement in a marriage, I was not the wife for him to choose. But he was the son of the Emperor and I was the Queen of England, so the match was highly suitable on that score. But was it? The people would not wish me to marry a foreigner. They would have liked me to take Edward Courtenay. Moreover, I could not leave my country to go to Spain, and Philip could not leave his and come here. We should see each other rarely, it seemed to me. I began to think that this marriage with Spain would go the way of all the others.

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?”