The passionate tudor, p.30
The Passionate Tudor, page 30
“Scheyfve knows nothing of the escape plan,” he said. “He can truthfully plead ignorance of it if questioned by the Council.”
“But can it still go ahead?” Mary was desperate to get away.
“Yes, but you cannot come with me now. The risk is too high. My master fears to provoke a war.”
“But you will send a boat—any boat, even a fishing smack—to take me across the sea?”
“I will do better than that,” he assured her. “I will come back for you as soon as possible. I will not fail you.”
* * *
—
More waiting. The suspense was making her ill. May slid into June, and still she was stuck at Woodham Walter, saddened to hear of the death of little Mary Seymour, the late Queen Katharine’s child. The poor mite had not even celebrated her second birthday. But she was now among God’s holy innocents and reunited with her mother.
By the end of the month, Mary was beginning to fear that van der Delft had abandoned her. But there was still the Emperor. Surely he would not throw her to the wolves?
On the morning of 2 July, she was awakened by Susan. “Madam, rouse yourself! Sir Robert wants to see you urgently.” He and Susan were the two she had chosen to go with her. She knew she was asking a lot, for they would both have to make sacrifices, and probably expose themselves to danger, but they had not hesitated.
Instantly awake, Mary pulled on her night robe and hurried out to her privy chamber, where her comptroller was waiting.
“Your Highness, I have received a message from Messire Dubois.”
Mary’s heart leaped. Jean Dubois was van der Delft’s secretary. They had met several times.
“His ship docked in Maldon harbor at two o’clock this morning. He has sent to say that all is ready for your escape.”
Her heart faltered. The moment had come, but she was not ready. She had still not packed anything, and was suddenly shivering in panic at the thought of what lay ahead. Was it really the right thing to do? And there was something else that had been bothering her increasingly—her fear of the sea. She could not stop thinking about the dreadful voyage from Spain her mother had endured all those years ago, of which she had spoken often to Mary. But she must not give way to cowardice. Come, come! She must make a decision!
“What is it, Madam?” Sir Robert asked. “If you are set on going, we should be making haste.”
The thought of putting her servants in peril made Mary feel even more tremulous about leaving. “No, I can’t. I am not ready. Oh, I don’t know. I can’t decide.” She ran her fingers through her hair, distraught, imagining how she would feel when she stepped onto the ship and committed herself to the uncontrollable deep. No, she could not do it. “Tell my groom, Henry, to go to Maldon. He must pretend he is buying corn for us. Instruct him to inform Messire Dubois that I am not leaving after all.” She burst into tears and Susan folded her in her arms, telling Sir Robert to stop just standing there and get a move on.
* * *
—
Mary had calmed down by the time Henry returned. She was still not sure that she had made the right decision.
She was surprised to see that the groom had brought with him a tall, broad-set gentleman, who introduced himself as Master Merchant, brother-in-law to Messire Dubois.
“Your Highness,” he said, with grave courtesy, “Messire Dubois was dismayed to receive your message. He has come to England on the Emperor’s orders. His Majesty has sent four great imperial warships and four smaller boats, all under the command of the Imperial Admiral and Vice Admiral. They have endured a stormy crossing and are waiting off Maldon and Harwich to convey you to safety, making a pretense of looking for Scottish pirates. Messire Dubois has disguised himself as the master of a merchant ship bringing corn from the Low Countries to Maldon and sailing under the protection of the men-of-war because of the threat of piracy. He has sold his cargo at Maldon, and now waits to smuggle your Highness on board and return to the fleet. He is then to take you to Antwerp or Brussels.”
Mary was trembling. She felt guilty knowing that the Emperor had gone to so much trouble on her behalf. If she did not go, how could she ever ask him for help again? As for van der Delft, when she thought of all he had done to bring this about, and how she was letting him down, she hated herself. This was no time to be a coward, she admonished herself. It wasn’t too late, surely, to change her mind?
“Is the ambassador with Messire Dubois?” she asked, knowing she would feel better if she was bolstered by van der Delft’s presence on the ship.
Master Merchant’s face turned somber. “Alas, Madam, his health quickly deteriorated after his return. He died not two weeks ago, God rest him.”
Mary crossed herself, feeling the tears threatening again. “He was a good man,” she said. “I shall miss him dreadfully. I shall pray for him and his family.”
“But now, Madam, we must make haste if you are to come with us,” Master Merchant urged. “There is danger in delay. Messire Dubois has no choice but to sail with the next tide. If he remains any longer, he risks discovery. Your Highness, there will be no better opportunity than now. This undertaking is passing through so many hands that it is daily becoming more difficult, and I fear it may not remain secret for much longer.”
Mary was panicking again, torn first one way and then another. “Let me think about it,” she pleaded. “It is a big decision. Just a few hours. Go back to your boat, and Sir Robert shall let you know my answer.”
Merchant departed, shaking his head.
* * *
—
“I do not think your Highness should go,” Sir Robert opined.
It was midnight, and they were still in Mary’s chamber, anxiously debating what she should do. Susan and Sir Francis were all for her leaving, but Mary was still undecided.
“Madam, the increased watch will make escape doubly dangerous,” Sir Robert argued. “There may be spies in this household, planted by the Council, and if so, they could have got wind of our plans. And do you really need to leave England? All these months you have been left alone. It may be that you are not in any imminent danger, and by leaving you might forfeit your place in the succession. I can just see Warwick gleefully writing you out.”
So could Mary.
Sir Robert lowered his voice. “Moreover—and I did not wish to tell you this—I have recently consulted two astrologers, and both predicted that the King would be dead within the year.” There was an audible intake of breath. “I know, it is treason to cast a royal horoscope or speak of the King’s death. Madam, if I thought you were truly in danger, I would give my right arm to see you out of the country and in safety.”
“It’s the only way to ensure her safety!” Susan cried, throwing up her hands. “You never know what that demon Warwick will do next. It’s more of a risk to stay here. Madam, please go!”
“I agree with Lady Susan,” weighed in Sir Francis. “The Emperor will not see her Highness ousted from the succession. It would suit his interests to have England ruled by a Catholic queen, and I doubt not he would go to war to defend her.”
Mary was thinking about what the astrologers had said, but was unsure whether to give credence to it, for by all reports Edward was in good health. It pained her to hear the others discussing her coming to the throne, for that could only happen if he died, and she could not bear the thought of that, remembering how precious he had been to her father, and how he had once loved her.
“It’s no good,” she said, hugging herself. “It’s late and I can’t think straight. Maybe Messire Dubois could help me to decide; he comes from the Emperor. Could someone go and fetch him?”
“I will go myself,” said Sir Robert.
“No, it’s too risky,” Mary protested. “If you are caught plotting my escape, you would both face the death penalty, you as a traitor and Dubois as a spy.”
“Nevertheless, I shall go in the morning,” he insisted. “I shall be heavily disguised.”
Mary feared for him. She half hoped he would bring Dubois around to his point of view, and that the man would just sail away.
When he had left, Susan insisted they should start to pack for the journey. Reluctantly, Mary agreed and began stuffing some clothes into hopsacks: nothing grand, nothing too heavy. She would dress like a countrywoman for the journey and carry a basket on her arm.
* * *
—
She spent the next day in a state of agitation, terrified lest Sir Robert be discovered. But at sunset, he returned with Dubois. Susan brought them to Mary’s chamber and kept watch by the door.
“We came by a secret way,” Sir Robert said. “No one saw us.”
The Fleming had a weather-beaten face and sharp features, and he was visibly unhappy about the delay. “Your Highness, there is little time left for deliberation. You must make up your mind now whether to go or stay.”
“I know, Master Dubois,” she said. “I am most grateful for everything that you and the Admiral are doing on my behalf. But I am ill prepared.” She pointed at the hopsacks. “Yet I do not know how the Emperor would take it if it turned out to be impossible to go now, after I have so often importuned him on the subject.”
Dubois gave her a long look. “If you are satisfied to stay, Madam, the Emperor would be content. If you do not wish to accompany me, I will leave England discreetly, but if you are coming, then you must not delay any further.”
Mary was still in an agony of indecision. “If you leave without me, will you take my jewels with you to safety?”
“Your Highness might as well accompany them,” he answered.
Sir Robert spoke quietly to her. “Madam, if the astrologers’ predictions come to pass and you are still in England, you will become Queen. Remember that.”
Mary’s head had begun to ache. “What shall I do?” she asked helplessly, horribly aware that once she said yes, she would be committed to facing that unforgiving sea. “I definitely wish to escape, but I am not ready yet. Messire Dubois, could you wait just another two days? Susan and I could be on the beach at four in the morning; that, I have learned, is when the watch goes off duty and the coast will literally be clear.”
“It would be courting extreme danger to wait that long,” Dubois protested. “Your Highness must leave everything and come at once. The Emperor will provide all that is needful. I’ve sold my corn and have no excuse for remaining in Maldon any longer. To do so would arouse the deepest suspicions. If the attempt is to take place at all, it will have to be now.”
Mary considered, her head in turmoil. “It is more than time I left,” she said, almost to herself, “for things are going worse than ever. A short time ago, they took the altars away from the King’s palace.”
At that moment, there was a loud knock at the front door and they all started. Sir Robert left the room, then returned, looking worried, with a plainly dressed man in tow.
“Everything is going wrong,” he announced. “There is nothing to be done. Master Dubois, this is my trusted friend, Master Schurts, who works in Maldon and has ridden hard from there to warn me that the bailiff and other folk of the village mean to arrest your boat, for they suspect you of having some understanding with the warship now standing off the coast.”
Dubois was visibly shaken, and Mary was quaking. “What shall we do?” she cried. “What is to become of me?”
“Messire Dubois, you had best depart at once, for the men of the town are not well disposed,” Rochester said. “Master Schurts can escort you back through the woods. There is no question now but that the escape attempt must be abandoned for the present.”
“They are going to double the watch tonight, Madam,” Schurts said, “and post men on the church tower, where they can see all the country roundabouts. There are also plans to light a great beacon to warn the inhabitants of the surrounding countryside that there is danger afoot. The fools think we are about to be invaded.”
“What is to become of me?” Mary cried again, beginning to think she should have escaped when she could. Queen Isabella would not have flinched at the prospect of crossing the sea, and neither should she have done.
“Oh, Madam, do not distress yourself!” Susan cried, putting a motherly arm around her. But Dubois was losing patience.
“Madam,” he said testily, “I have risked my life to help you, and the best way I can serve you now will be by leaving your house immediately.”
“No,” she said, putting out a hand to stay him. “If I leave for Beaulieu in a few days’ time, can you not come back for me? I will send a messenger with instructions to rendezvous with me at Stansgate, on the coast.”
Dubois looked at her as if she was mad. “I will not abandon your Highness, I promise,” was all he said, then made a hasty departure, leaving her in tears.
“I’ll go after him,” said Susan. “He can’t just leave you like this!”
“No!” Mary cried. But Susan was already snatching up her cloak and making for the door.
“I can ride better than most men!” she called back.
She returned within the hour, her face flushed with anger. “Where’s Sir Robert?” she asked.
Mary summoned him. “Lady Susan wishes to speak to you.” He looked a touch disconcerted.
Susan faced him. “I followed Master Schurts and Messire Dubois to Maldon,” she said. “I dared not catch them up because they were stopped by a gang of twenty watchmen, and I had to hide behind some trees while they bribed them to let them pass. But there was no sign that the watchmen were hostile or suspicious toward them; in fact, they were laughing with them. And when we got to Maldon, the town was quiet and all seemed normal. There was no one in the church tower. It seems to me, Sir Robert, that Master Schurts invented a tale to dissuade her Highness from escaping. And I wonder who told him to do that?”
“I don’t know what you are implying,” Sir Robert said stiffly, as Mary began to realize that the decision had been made for her. “How was I supposed to know what was going on in Maldon? I took Schurts at his word.”
Susan threw him a look that said I don’t believe you, but refrained from calling him a liar to his face.
“One day, Madam,” he said, turning to Mary, “you will have cause to be grateful to Master Schurts.”
Chapter 24
1550
The Emperor vetoed any further plans for Mary’s escape, and the Regent Mary expressed the hope that she would be sensible enough not to suggest it again. Somehow, the Council had got wind of what had so nearly happened, and rumors were flying around the country. Scheyfve informed Mary that to calm the people, it had been given out that the Emperor, wishing to marry the heiress to the throne to his heir, Philip, and so claim England for the Habsburgs, had attempted to kidnap her, but had failed in the attempt. The official stance was one of shocked incredulity that Charles should have contemplated such a thing, and the English ambassadors in Europe were ordered to express their indignation, and the Council’s justifiable anger, at such dishonorable behavior.
Bands of armed horsemen descended on Essex to prevent any further attempt to spirit Mary away. She received a letter from Lord Chancellor Rich and Sir William Petre, pressing her to come to court to discuss her recent conduct. Firmly, she declined. She had no intention of placing herself in Warwick’s clutches.
On the day she left Woodham Walter for Beaulieu, she sent one of her chaplains, Dr. Mallet, ahead to prepare for the celebration of Mass on her arrival. But she was delayed on rutted roads, and when she arrived, the service was already over. It perturbed her, since the Council had decreed that Mass could only be celebrated for her and a few others.
There must be an informer in her household, she concluded, when the Sheriff of Essex had Dr. Mallet and Dr. Barclay (who had assisted at the Mass) proclaimed offenders against the law.
“Take no notice!” she exhorted them.
“I shall not!” declared Father Barclay. “I shall continue to say Mass as usual.”
But that night, Father Mallet disappeared—gone to ground, Mary suspected, greatly distressed.
She waited in anguished suspense to see what the Council would do. Members of her household, going about their daily business, reported seeing an increased military presence in the vicinity of Beaulieu—and doubtless the ports were being watched, too, in case she tried to escape. The atmosphere in the house was tense.
The blow fell in August, when an order came from the sheriff, commanding her chaplains, in the King’s name, to cease holding unlawful services.
Mary sank into her chair. How much longer would she have to go on battling to have her Mass? Well, she would not desist! They would see that there was more steel to her than they had bargained for.
She wrote to Scheyfve, pouring out her fears and her indignation, and he promised he would write to the Emperor. He reported that many believed there would be a war, incited by her, and that rumors to that effect were being spread by the councillors themselves to gain the people’s approval for any action they planned to take against her. This brought home to Mary the fact that she was in a very perilous position indeed. She wished she had escaped while she could. What a fool she had been!
She wept with relief when, in September, the Emperor demanded that the Council give an unconditional assurance that she be allowed to worship as she pleased. She herself wrote to Warwick, reminding him that she had received official permission to do so.
But Scheyfve soon informed her that Warwick had denied that any such assurance had ever been made. I know this will make you angry, but I counsel you to write in a less imperious tone to the Lord President, lest you arouse his ire against you. That sent her hurrying to her closet, where she slapped a sheet of paper on the desk and sat down determinedly.
