Chapter 26 - In which I became a true Tudor

By any means, I should have rejoiced. My fellow conspirator and true friend George Boleyn and I now ruled England together while my father was away fighting the French. A year ago, when we had begun to plan the Queen's staged death, I would have laughed giddy with joy to be given such an opportunity. It would be so easy now for us to outmanoeuvre Cromwell and bring George's sister back where she belonged.

But, alas, things were never easy in Tudor times.

The first time George and I came together in my father's council room after the war party had left, you could physically feel the tension. There was an awkward silence between us in which neither of us looked the other in the eyes. I knew it was my fault, mine entirely. When everything had been going smoothly, I had ruined everything by kissing him. A married man, much older than me. My uncle by marriage. The man who would ascend to the block just before me if anyone ever figured out our scheme. It hadn't been my best choice so far.

But we tried to make it work. After casually speaking about some political matters that Cromwell had assembled for us, we sat down and, without saying a word about it, decided it was now time to act.

George cleared his throat. "I have been thinking about dismissing the staff of my hunting lodge. It was a wonderful place for a time, but now I think I might no longer need it. What do you think?"

Clever! His deftness almost made me smile. Here, at the centre of power, we could never be sure that no one would overhear our words, especially not Cromwell. We had to plan Anne's return without anyone knowing what we spoke about.

"Your hunting trips certainly haven't been without merit, I presume," I replied. "But I agree, it is time for you to return to court once and for all. Prince Edward and Princess Elizabeth have been without a vital part of their family for far too long now."

"I'm glad you agree. Perhaps I should return to my estates in due time and arrange for everything to be done. I would want to bother my sweet wife with such trifles."

"No, of course you wouldn't." My words were rather hushed, but he had heard them nonetheless.

I could see him grinding his teeth, but was unable to read his emotions. What was wrong? Why had that one little perch affected him so? Or was there some other problem that I didn't even anticipate?

"Then I shall proceed as planned. Would it suit Your Highness if I left court in three days' time?"

"I don't see why not. You have my permission to leave, Lord Rochford."

"Good." He rose from his chair without looking at me. Then he paced towards the window, stared out for a moment or two, before turning around abruptly. "My Princess, you…"

I returned his gaze, unsure of what to expect. A scolding? An outburst of emotions? A declaration of love? What?

Taking two steps in my direction, he opened his mouth to speak again, but was rudely interrupted by a knock on the door. The sound seemed to be a relief to him.

"Your Highness, my Lord," a page said as he entered. "There is hasty news from the North."

"Why is it so important that you must disturb us? Should you not have informed Master Cromwell instead," I angrily turned on him.

He flinched, but didn't flee my gaze. "We… we did inform him, or are doing so as we speak. But I thought it best to inform Your Highness straight away. There has been an uprising in York."

I sank into my chair. Of course! How could I have been so foolish as to believe that my deeds would prevent history from doing what it meant to do? I might have kept my father from breaking with Rome as harshly as he might have, and I might have softened the people towards his second marriage, but I had not fully prevented Cromwell from his investigation of the abbeys. He had closed monasteries, abolished feasting days and imprisoned monks, and now we were paying the price. Delayed, perhaps, but only by a few months.

"The Pilgrimage…," I whispered.

"Well speak, you knave," George hissed at the page. "What has happened? Don't leave us in the dark!"

"They call themselves the Pilgrimage of Grace. A man by the name of Robert Aske leads them, or so we've been told. Hundreds and thousands have gathered in York and other Northern towns. They mean to march south."

George wasn't satisfied with the answer. "What are their demands?"

"Religious matters. They demand to have back their old feasting days and the closed monasteries, and that the King return to Rome. They have also publicly declared their love and support for you, Your Highness."

I suddenly found both of the men looking at me and so I blushed, much to my dismay.

"Well, I certainly hold no love for insubordinate subjects, who turn against their sovereign lord and seek to blackmail him. Send for Master Cromwell and the councillors. We need to take measures, muster troops, and force these rebels to detest. My father, the King, expects us to protect his country while he chastises the French, and I mean to obey his every wish. Are you his loyal subject, too, Thomas?"

The page, somehow in awe by my words, bowed before me in haste. "Of course. I am His Majesty's most loyal servant… and yours, too, Your Highness."

"Then go," I ordered him and waited for him to comply until I turned to George. His face was wrinkled with worry. "We might have to postpone your hunting lodge trip… at least until we have sorted out what to do."

"I think Your Highness knows perfectly well what to do. Your words had an air of confidence to them that certainly convinced your page," he replied. "But if you seek my humble opinions, of course I'll support you in this crisis. His Majesty appointed me to do just that, didn't he? Serve and obey you?"

I sighed and tried to walk towards him. "Lord… George. You're as much regent as I am."

He straightened his shoulders and hardened his face, clearly showing me that my offer of peace was unwanted. I stopped my movement.

"We are in this together then, Your Highness. Trust in me to assist you and protect England while His Majesty and your husband fight our foreign wars."

"George, you…"

"The councillors will soon be here," he brushed my words away. "We had better come up with words to lift their spirit, and to encourage their support for the crown. It is not wise to meet them offhand."

I sighed again and accepted the fact that we would not speak about the awkwardness between us. Not yet.

"What does Your Lordship suggest we say to them?"

In fact, it turned out we didn't have so say much. They all beleaguered us with their outcries of anger and demands for justice. The only one uncomfortably silent was Cromwell, but I liked him that way. He hadn't seen this coming, I knew, and I enjoyed the fact that it humbled him. Perhaps I could speak to him on a private occasion and increase the guilt he felt for this disaster. It could just turn him into the man I needed him to be. But first, we had to deal with the rebels. I wouldn't refer to them as pilgrims, even though the professed their love for me. Of course I intended to be just and merciful, but to the untrained eye, I had to appear every inch my father's daughter. A Tudor princess. Tudor's didn't take kindly to treason.

In the end, we agreed to send the Duke of Norfolk (a devout Catholic) and the Earl of Shrewsbury (a military man) to meet the rebels before they reached Doncaster. There, they would threaten to incur the King's wrath on the rebels while at the same time offering their leaders safe passage to London. They would meet with me, explain their demands, and receive a just verdict. Since we didn't have many able soldiers left in England, it was our best choice to face such overwhelming numbers.

Fortunately, George agreed with me. We decided he would return to his manor quickly to send Anne away according to our plans. Then, he would return just in time to receive the rebels. It was a daring plan.

We should have known it wouldn't work.

I anxiously waited for George to return while at the same time trying to manage a country. What can I say? It's not an easy task. Being regent during my father's mourning had been easier, but now that we were at war, problems seemed to spring up like daisies from the snow. Without Cromwell's diligence, I admit, I might now have succeeded. And he was very eager, always burying me in matters and possible solutions so as to distract me from blaming him for the Northern uprising. If he thought to fool me thus, however, he would soon find himself mistaken. I would only allow him to feel safe for a few more days, until after I had parlayed with the rebels. I still hoped George would come and aid me. A man talking about such matters would have been more warmly received, I presumed, but I would never find out.

George didn't come. I would have to succeed or fail alone.

On a rainy day in March 1537, I sat on my father's throne for the first time. Whether or not to sit it had been a matter of long deliberation, but after consulting with my lawyers, I had been given the confirmation that as regent, I had the right to do so. Thus, I would, for I intended to awe the rebels and intimidate them. I didn't have the manpower to fight them, so I would have to appeal to their souls.

Wearing a pearl-laced coronet and a reddish-purple gown, I tried my best to look every inch a royal as the men approached me. They were introduced as Sir Robert Constable and Sir Ralph Ellerker, two of Aske's closest confidants, as I remembered. Of course I wouldn't let them know just how much I knew about their rebellion.

"You stand before Her Royal Highness, the Princess Mary, Lady Regent of England," a herald reminded them.

I trembled as I watched them kneel before me. They held me in high esteem, I could see it in their eyes. Perhaps they weren't bad men after all, but I would have to give them a piece of my Tudor mind nonetheless. The eyes of my court, of England, were all upon me.

"Gentlemen! What folly, what selfish delusion has driven you to commit your treasonous act? What condemnable lunacy has convinced you to revolt against your sovereign lord and king?"

I paused dramatically, savouring the shock in Sir Ralph's face. He cleared his throat to respond, but I spoke up anew.

"For is it not just that which you have committed, gentlemen? A treasonous rebellion against us, the crown of England, who have loved you more than any other part of the realm? Is your sovereign lord, King Henry VIII, not the kindest, the most generous and the most just overlord in all of Europe? Should you not consider yourself blessed to enjoy the merits of his long and peaceful reign? Yet you take up arms and threaten the very foundation of this country by rising against your betters."

"Your Highness, I beseech you to believe us that we meant no disrespect," Sir Robert interjected hastily.

I nodded gracefully. "I am not unwilling to do so, Sir Robert. I have heard of your cause and what it is that you seek. It has given me reason to believe that you are good men, pious men, who wish for nothing but to live in peace according to the ways of their fathers."

"That is all we aim for, Your Highness," Sir Robert assured me.

"But then why, pray tell me, did you not come to me? Am I not a woman, with a heart to give mercy and reconcile?"

Sir Ralph seemed to be awoken by my words. "We love you above all, Your Highness, please believe us!"

"And yet you did not come," I replied in feigned disappointment. "You didn't petition the crown, you didn't seek for compensation. You took up arms. You agitated the masses. You sang songs of disobedience and you are threatening to throw our beautiful country into the dark abyss of perfidy. Tell me, gentlemen, what good is in that? Do you believe it God's will that you should act against His own most fundamental laws by unnaturally rising up against your king?"

They looked at me with big, astonished eyes.

"Perhaps your love for me is not as great as you profess. Perhaps you thought it best to act now, while the King is away, and exploit the fact that he left me, bare woman that I am, to keep his country safe. Is it not so, gentlemen?" I waited until they wanted to object before speaking up again. "But you are mistaken. Very much so. For you see, I am my father's daughter, and the grandchild of his father before him. Henry the victorious, who ended the years and years of bloodshed and devastation that were the Wars of the Roses. The days of darkness and despair in which you would gladly push back our country only to establish your selfish demands. But let me tell you this: you shall not succeed. As long as I draw breath, I shall obey my royal father's command and protect England from her foes, foreign or within. I may have the feeble body of a woman, gentlemen, but my heart is a Tudor heart, the heart of a king. I shall not be intimidated, no matter how many men are waving your banners. I shall not detest, no matter how close you come to London. For I know this: I am England, and I will not go down without a fight. If you insist upon your unholy rebellion, I will unleash the Tudor fury upon you, and may God grant you mercy, for I – SHALL – NOT !"

The last words had been so loud and clear that anyone in the reception hall heard me. It had become deadly silent. I tried my best to keep remain pokerfaced, and since I had talked myself into a rage, it wasn't that hard. Shooting dark daggers from my eyes, I looked down upon the two sorry men who had been forced to endure my wrath. It took them a while to react, and in the end, it was Sir Robert, the more courageous of the two.

"Y… Your Highness, please allow me to assure you that we mean you no harm. We… we would only petition you to listen to our demands, and judge them according to your conscience."

"I shall do so," I said haughtily. "And when I have given you a verdict, you shall accept it and disband. Any man who lays down his weapons shall be granted mercy, and any man who persists in his unnatural uprising shall be put to death."

"Your Highness is the most gracious princess," Sir Ralph said quickly.

"It is not grace I aim for, Sir Ralph, but justice. Justice and peace for England. If you wish the same, and if you return to your place as loyal and obedient subjects to the crown, I am willing to forgive. But do not presume to compel me to any other concessions. It is the King's mercy you are about to receive, Sir Ralph. It is never granted twice."

"For which we are grateful," Sir Robert interjected to calm me down. "We shall do as you wish, Your Highness. Whenever it pleases you to hear our demands, we shall be happy to put them to you."

"Never," I cut his words in a dark tone. "It has pained my heart too long to face such rebellious and disloyal men as you. You'll put your cares to the Lord Chancellor, Master Cromwell, and if you can convince him, then and only then will I be able to forgive you."

I could see the idea of talking to the very man they despised as the emissary of Satan didn't sit well with the rebels.

"But, Your Highness…"

"I said you will put them to Master Cromwell," I raised my voice. "Consider it a royal command. Obeying it would prove your obedience to the crown, Sir Ralph."

They didn't speak back to me again. Instead, the hastily bowed and left the room, while I continued to sit there and look gloomy in order to impress my courtiers. It was all show, just show, I realised now. But if I wanted to hold England together, that was the show I had to put up. And it never ended. When I left the reception hall, I already began to prepare for my next show, which would arguably have much fewer spectators. Only one, that was.

Cromwell came to me the next day and dutifully reported on all the demands Sir Ralph and Sir Robert had put before him. Not one word did he waste to speak about the tensions that must have arisen between them. He played his role of the duteous servant to the last. After he'd told me everything, I turned to the window and theatrically sighed.

"It is such a mess," I said, once again feigning disappointment. Then, I waited. Silence could be very uncomfortable for those who felt guilty, I knew from many hours of watching series like The Mentalist. I could only hope 21st century psychology also worked in the 16th.

Apparently, it did.

"Your Highness must excuse…"

I turned around, looking at Cromwell with as little expression as I could muster. I wanted him to feel extremely uncomfortable and unsure.

"This matter is my fault entirely," he finally admitted. "I should have known about it beforehand, I should have protected the crown."

"And yet you didn't," I said in a tone that sounded like I was sorry for the whole situation.

Cromwell hesitated. "Have… you written to the King, yet?"

"No, I haven't. I didn't have the heart to tell him and break his. He, the most gentle of lords, has put all his trust in us to keep and protect England. What would he say if he found out just how terribly his servants and subjects have let him down?"

"Your Highness has done nothing wrong," he tried to sweet-talk me.

I nodded. "No. But you have," I returned bluntly and turned to him. "You proceeded in your religious dealings and brought about this wave of angry resentment that now threatens to drown us all. You persisted even though I had warned you precisely of what would happen if you did. I just don't know how to tell the King about that."

Finally, finally I could see fear in his eyes. It had taken me years, but I had finally pushed him where I needed him. He took a few stumbling steps towards me, and I half expected him to fall to his knees.

"Your Highness, I beg you reconsider…"

I raised my hand to stop him. "I told you. You wouldn't listen, and now we are where we are. We must face this crisis or perish. You have brought this upon us, so I command you to find a way out. And I shall pray to God that you now see the signs that He gave you, and that this disaster has made you humbler than you were before." I waited to study the emotions in his face. When I had said 'disaster', he seemed like a beaten dog. "You are a good servant, Master Cromwell. Perhaps the best the English crown has had in a hundred years. But you are also just that. A servant. If you forget your place, God punishes you accordingly. I tried to warn you about it."

There was silence for a minute or two. Then Cromwell cleared his throat.

"I shall obey Your Highness's command and carry out your verdict on the rebels. You can trust me."

"If only you trusted me," I sighed. "If only you had believed me when there was still time, none of this need have happened. If only you accepted me as your mistress, as rightfully you should. Your ambitions have hurt the royal family, and thus England. I pray that you have now seen the error of your ways and will return to the path of justice and rightfulness. I am sure God will reward you, and England, for it. You are dismissed."

Obviously, there was much left to say, and Cromwell wanted to speak, but he bit his tongue and bowed. Perhaps he wanted me to believe his words so I wouldn't rat him out to my father, or perhaps he was truly humiliated by the situation. Only time would tell.

I could have been satisfied then. What I had set out to achieve in this messy situation, I had achieved. But I couldn't feel safe and secure until I heard about my secret objective, about the woman in the hunting lodge and her brother and how it all went about. So, since George wouldn't come back to court or reply to my messages, I decided to leave England in Cromwell's care for a day or two and ride out to the Rochford estates.

It was pitch dark outside when I finally arrived. Of course, I was accompanied by the manifold guards my father had assigned to me, but I would not have them overhear my angry conversation with George about why he had forsaken me.

"Wait here," I ordered them.

They didn't object, even though some of them seemed to want it. Did they fear my wrath? Perhaps my little show with the rebels had enhanced my reputation as an angry Tudor royal. On the inside, I cherished the idea and giggled a little as I entered George's manor.

His steward received me in a very sombre tone, and so did the other servants. I could feel something was odd, but I couldn't tell what it was, nor would I have ever guessed it. They led me to their lord's private parlour and bowed very deeply. Then I entered.

He sat by the fireplace and didn't even bother to stand up or turn around when I entered, even though a servant announced me. Together with the fact that he had left me to deal with the rebels on my own, this fact made me truly angry. I didn't even wait until the servant had left before giving George a piece of my mind.

"Why were you not at court? I expected you there and you had promised, no, sworn to do so! I was left to fend for myself, thrown to the wolves while you sat here by the fire! Why did you betray me so?"

He didn't reply.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself? Have you lost your tongue?"

He didn't turn around. A wooden log cracked in the fireplace. He cleared his throat.

"She's dead."