In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,215
But the ultimate blame would be laid on my shoulders.
Apart from Reginald, my greatest comfort was in my women. There was Susan, of course, and Jane Dormer was another whom I particularly liked. Jane was betrothed to the Count of Feria, a gentleman of Philip's suite, and one of his greatest friends. When Philip returned to England with his entourage, Jane was to be married, so she and I had a great deal in common at that time, both awaiting the return of a loved one.
My fortieth birthday had come and passed. How the years pressed on me! If Philip did not return soon, I should be too old for childbearing.
I still cherished the hope.
Why did he not come? I asked myself again and again. Always it was the same answer when I wrote to him pleadingly: “I will come soon…as yet there are duties which keep me here.”
He wrote that he must go to Flanders to celebrate his coming to power there, as well as in Spain.
There were malicious people to bring me news of those celebrations. Philip was playing a big part in them. He was giving himself up to pleasure. It was difficult to imagine Philip's doing that. He had always been so serious when he was with me.
“Why does he not come?” I kept demanding of Susan and Jane.
“What can be keeping him all this time?”
If they were silent, I would make excuses for him. His father had renounced the realm in Philip's favor, I reminded them. He was no longer merely the Prince of Spain but the King. He had his obligations.
But I was worried. Reginald could not help me. He was very ill, and I was discovering that he was not a practical man. He was clever and learned, but I needed advice.
I was desperately worried about the burnings, in spite of the fact that I told myself it was God's will. I heard terrible stories of wood which would not ignite properly, of people who were scorched for hours before they finally passed away. Some of the screams were terrible. Men talked of Cranmer, Ridley, Hooper and Latimer, but there were humble folk, too… the unlearned who had been led astray. Having been on my errands of mercy, disguised as a noble lady with no hint that I was the Queen, I had learned something of the lives of these people. I felt it was wrong to send them to a fiery death simply because they were ignorant and saw themselves as martyrs.
If only Philip were here! But he upheld the Inquisition in his land. He would bring it to England, and persecution would be intensified then.
To whom could I turn?
I decided to send to Flanders to find out the real cause for Philip's continued absence. Were those stories of his adventurings true? I could not believe them. But then, just as I had never understood my sister Elizabeth, I did not understand Philip either. I was too downright, I supposed. I was at a loss with those people who showed a certain front to the world when they were secretly something else.
At the same time I sent a messenger to the Emperor. I had the utmost respect for his judgement. I had always regarded him as one of the most shrewd leaders in Europe, possessed of great wisdom.
I wanted him to be told of the heretics who made martyrs of themselves and the effect it was having on the people. I had always wanted to persuade … to coerce perhaps… and only rarely impose the final penalty. The Emperor might give me his views. There was another point. People varied. What the Spaniards accepted, the English might not. I wanted him to know that there was discontent throughout the kingdom and that even the most faithful to the old religion felt a repugnance toward the fiery death—particularly for men who had led good lives—men such as Hugh Latimer, for instance.
Why did I expect Charles to understand? On his orders, 30,000 heretics in Flanders had been either beheaded or buried alive. And Philip? What did he care for those people? The numbers who had died in England since the rules were introduced were infinitesimal compared with those who had suffered at the hands of the Inquisition.
No, the Emperor would think, with Philip and some members of my Council, that I was a foolish woman, and that a woman needed a man beside her if she was to rule with a firm hand.