In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,214

often less brave than others. Cranmer was not a brave man… not until the very end. The return of papal authority must have filled him with terror, for he would know that one who had been at the very heart of the break would find himself in a difficult position.

I was pleased when he signed a declaration agreeing that, as Philip and I had admitted the Pope's authority in England, he would submit to our views. That should have been enough; and doubtless it would have been but for his position in the country and the effect he would have on so many people.

I had said that those who admitted their heresy and turned to the true faith would be free. But there were politics to be considered as well as religion and, much as I deplored this, I was overruled.

If only Philip had been here, I said, over and over again; but I knew that if Philip were here he would be on the side of the Council. Yet I deluded myself into thinking that he would have stood by me. I had to delude myself. It was the only way to bring a glimmer of hope into my life.

Cranmer signed two documents. In one he agreed that he would put the Pope before the King and Queen; and in the other he promised complete obedience to the King and Queen as to the Pope's supremacy.

This should have saved him, but his enemies were determined he should die. He was too important to be allowed to live; and he was condemned and taken out to the stake.

Face to face with death, martyrdom descended upon him. He addressed the people, telling them that in his fear of death he had signed his name to certain documents. He had degraded himself by doing so, and before he died he wished to proclaim his faith in the new religion.

The sticks were lighted and, as the flames crept up his body, he held out his right hand and said in resonant tones, “For as much as my right hand offended, writing contrary to my heart, it shall be punished therefor and burned first.”

He stood there, his hand outstretched while the flames licked his flesh.

All over the country they were talking of Cranmer.

“Where will it end?” they were asking. “What next? Will they bring the Inquisition to England?”

Sullen anger was spreading.

I had done what God had intended I should, but it had brought me into ill repute.

There was no comfort anywhere. Reginald was ill and growing very feeble; I could not believe he would live long. And still Philip did not return.

WHY DID HE not come? I wrote to him, “I am surrounded by enemies. My crown is in danger. I need you.”

But there was always some excuse.

His father had now abdicated in his favor, and he was King of Spain in his own right. This seemed a good reason to keep him away. I made excuses for him to others, but in my own chamber I said to myself: He does not want to come. I am his wife. Why does he not want to be with me as I do him?

He had never loved me. Once more I had deluded myself. He had gone through the motions of being a husband; and I, feeling so deeply myself, had been aware of the lack of response in him. But I would not admit it. I had tried to believe because I so desperately wanted to.

I was deeply upset by the burnings. I did not know what I should do. It was God's will, I told myself continually. This was what He had preserved me to do. Those who died, I assured myself, were doomed to hell fire in any case. They were heretics, and heretics are the enemies of God. They must be eliminated before they spread their evil doctrines.

I concerned myself with the poor. I would go to visit them in their houses, talk of their problems with them, take them food and give them money if they needed it.

It comforted me to some extent. It helped to shut out the ghostly cries that echoed in my ears, the smell of burning flesh which seemed constantly in my nostrils.

Cranmer, Ridley, Hooper, Latimer … I could not forget them. They were men I had known, spoken with. I had liked some of them… and I had condemned them to the fire. No, not I. It was their judges. I would have pardoned them.