In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,221

to go? What is the best for me? she asks herself. And that is the way she will go.”

“There are some who think she should be questioned.”

“I cannot believe she would ever harm me.”

“You are too trusting.”

“Yes,” I agreed, thinking of Philip. “It may be that I do not employ subterfuge as some people do.”

He put his hand over mine. “You have done well,” he said.

“Remember you used to say you had a mission? God had chosen you to bring England back to His true Church? You must rejoice, for you have done that. Always it will be remembered that it was in your reign that England returned to the Church of Rome.”

It was pleasant to be with him. I wanted to talk of the old days when I was a child and I had first known him. He had seemed so noble then. I liked to think of our mothers talking confidentially over their needlework, matchmaking for us.

If I had married Reginald when I was young and had wanted to, how different my life would have been. It would surely have been a very suitable and happy marriage.

But it did not come to pass; and now Philip was coming home because he wanted my country to join his in the war against the French.

WE WERE DISTURBED by the menace of another rebellion. This time it was Thomas Stafford. It was very disconcerting to me because the young man was Reginald's nephew.

Reginald was very upset about it. He talked to me about Thomas, who had renounced the Catholic faith. When he was on the Continent, Reginald had made great efforts to bring him back to it—but in vain.

Thomas's mother, Ursula, was the daughter of my dear Countess of Salisbury; thus she was Reginald's sister. So the young man had royal blood on that side of the family; but his father was the third Duke of Buckingham who was descended from Thomas Woodstock, third son of Edward III. So … Thomas had royal blood on both sides, and he had the temerity to consider that his claim to the throne was greater than mine, for he declared that, by marrying a Spaniard, I had forfeited my right to it.

It seemed so recklessly stupid that one felt one should ignore it, and, as Thomas Stafford was abroad, we did for some time. It had seemed just one of the minor irritations I was doomed to suffer.

Gradually we began to see that it was not so trivial. This was when the English ambassador to France sent dispatches home which indicated that Thomas Stafford was being received with respect by Henri Deux, who was giving him encouragement, and had even promised him two ships to help him.

Ruy Gomez da Silva arrived in England. It was February and bitterly cold.

I was delighted to see him, because I knew that his coming meant that Philip would soon follow.

Ruy Gomez was a typical Spanish nobleman. He was a master of courtesy, as Philip was; but Ruy Gomez had an ease of manner, a way of flattering with his eyes and paying unspoken compliments which made one feel attractive even though one knew to the contrary. He was a very gracious, charming gentleman.

He asked for an audience immediately on his arrival and, of course, I granted it with alacrity.

Susan warned me that, underneath all the charm, here was an astute diplomat who should be carefully watched.

He talked pleasantly and easily of the journey, the crossing and the health of Philip, which was good.

“His Majesty has been completely immersed in his duties, which were onerous, and now that the Emperor has passed his dominions to his beloved son, those duties are increasing.”

“We shall have much to discuss,” I said.

“The French are causing a great deal of trouble,” Gomez told me.

“There are always some to cause trouble, and often it is the French.”

“The King needs all the assistance he can get.”

He did not actually say that Philip was coming to ask me to give assistance, but he implied it. Though, of course, I knew that already.

“The Council and the country would not be in favor of our being involved in war at this time,” I told him.

He gave me the most flattering of smiles. “You are the Queen,” he said.

“It would be necessary for the Council to agree.”

“The French are no friends of England.”

“It seems to me that no country is a friend of another.”

He looked at me reproachfully. “But our countries, Your Majesty, are united by the marriage of