In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,171

to be merciful, O Lord, and I believe that is how You would wish me to act.”

I SET OUT ON my ride into London. I was thirty-seven years old—no longer young, but not too old for a Queen. I had some experience of life behind me. I was no beauty, but I was not ill favored either. I was thinnish and of low stature. I wished that I had been taller—but I looked well enough on a horse; I had my father's reddish hair, and my complexion was as fresh as his had been in his youth, but mine had not coarsened as his had—I presumed because I had lived more abstemiously. Dressed in purple velvet, I looked quite regal, I believed, seated on my horse and surrounded by my ladies.

My sister had come to Wanstead to meet me. She was to ride into London beside me. I was sorry for this in a way, and yet I could not forbid it. She was so much younger and in such blooming health. She was much taller and about twenty years old—in her prime, one might say. The people cheered her and she did everything she could to win their approval, waving her hands and holding them up in acknowledgment of their greeting. She had very beautiful hands, and I had often noticed how she used every opportunity to bring them into prominence.

These people had shown their affection for me; they had proclaimed me as their Queen, and I believed that meant that they wanted the old faith restored. Had they forgotten that Elizabeth had refused to attend Mass? Were these Protestants who were cheering her? Or was she so popular because she was young and attractive to look at and showed such pleasure in their applause? Of one thing I was certain: wherever she was, she would bring a certain lack of ease to me, a certain puzzlement, for I should never understand the workings of her mind.

I kissed all her ladies to give an impression that I was pleased to see her but, as we rode along, I was thinking that I should have been happier if she had stayed away.

As we approached Aldgate, I saw streamers hanging from the houses; children had been assembled to sing songs of welcome. It was a heartwarming sight. The streets had been freshly swept, and members of the city crafts had gathered there, clad in their traditional dress. They looked very smart, and they were smiling and waving their banners with enthusiasm.

We were met by the Mayor. Lord Arundel was present, holding the sword of state. They joined the procession with a thousand men—and so they led me to the Tower.

This was London's welcome and meant that the city regarded me as the rightful Queen.

And there was the Tower, so often a symbol of fear, and now offering me hospitality and welcome.

I was greeted by Sir Thomas Cheyney, who was in charge at that time. The custom was that I should rest here until after my brother's funeral.

The King was dead: Long live the Queen! That was what this meant.

I shall never forget coming to the Tower that day. All the state prisoners had been brought from their cells and were assembled on the green before the church of St. Peter ad Vincula.

There was the old Duke of Norfolk, who had been arrested shortly before my father's death and would certainly have lost his head as his son Surrey had done, had the King not died before he could sign the death warrant. He had aged since I had last seen him, which was not surprising, after six years' incarceration in that grim place. Stephen Gardiner was also there; but the one who stood out among all the others was Edward Courtenay, son of the Marquis of Exeter and Earl of Devonshire, who had been in the Tower since 1538, when he was about twelve years old, and had known no other dwelling for fifteen years. He looked bright and healthy in spite of this. I was deeply touched, not only by him but by all those people kneeling there, particularly when it was pointed out to me who they were.

I dismounted and, going to them, spoke to each one in turn. I kissed them and bade them no longer kneel.

I said to them emotionally, “You are my prisoners now.”

The Duke of Norfolk was in tears, and so was I, as I embraced him. Gardiner took my hands, and we were too