In the Shadow of the Crown - By Jean Plaidy Page 0,226

and now, to be accused of heresy…it was more than he could bear.

He was seized with tertian fever and became very ill indeed. He had been ill for a long time but now he seemed to have lost something of himself. He became vague and suddenly, in the midst of a discussion, he would seem to lose his way and wonder what we were talking about. He would wander through the Court, unsure of where he was going. It was very sad to see him.

I felt I was losing one of my dearest friends—for already he seemed more dead than alive.

Life was so unhappy. I had to create dreams. And as we passed into the autumn I began to believe that I was pregnant.

I did not tell anyone at first. I could not forget the humiliating experience when everyone had been awaiting the birth of the child which had never been conceived.

I clung to the thought. I knew it. All the symptoms were present. I must be so this time. God would not desert me again.

When I told Susan, I saw the look of horror dawn on her face before she set her features into joyous lines.

“Your Majesty, can it really be so?”

“It is, Susan, I know it. Everything points to it.”

“Then…it is wonderful news. It will give Your Majesty new life.”

“What I have always wanted, more than anything, Susan, is my own child.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I know.”

“As yet I shall tell no one.”

She could not hide her relief.

“No,” I said. “Not even Philip. I will wait awhile.”

“It is best,” said Susan.

“But I am sure,” I said firmly.

I had to be sure. It was the only thing which could draw me out of the morass of misery into which life had plunged me.

I HAD THOUGHT I had touched the very depth of misery, but there was more to come.

We were at war. The people said we were fighting Spain's war. We had not the means to finance a war. The Council had been against it. It was only when the Stafford affair had exposed the perfidy of the French that they had reluctantly agreed to declare war on them.

Now we were reaping the harvest.

One of the greatest blows I had been called upon to suffer had come upon me. The French had taken Calais. It was the final humiliation. That this should have happened in my reign! I was more deeply wounded than I could express. Calais had always meant something to the English. It was the gateway to France, and we had always seen the need to keep it well protected. It had been in our possession since it was taken by Edward III in 1347, and he had won it after a twelve-month siege. Always its importance had been recognized.

And now it was in the hands of the French; and all because we had become involved in a war which we did not want, which would bring us little good, and into which we had gone largely because I wished to please Philip.

It was no use telling me that our garrison had behaved with the utmost bravery—at the end only 800 of them holding out for a week against 3,000 troops of the Duke of Guise.

We had lost Calais, and in my heart I blamed myself.

Not even the thought of my pregnancy could lift my spirits.

THERE WAS SILENCE in the streets. They were burning people at Smithfield and all over the country. They are heretics, I said. It is God's will. He has set me on the throne for this purpose, and I am carrying out that purpose to the best of my ability.

But I was failing. The Pope said so. Pamphlets were being issued illegally. They condemned me. They called me a Jezebel. They said I had brought misery to my country. No man was safe from the accusations of heresy and the fire.

One of my greatest enemies was John Knox. This fanatical misogynist poured forth his hatred for my sex, and what infuriated him so much was to see a woman in control. Having hated Mary of Guise in Scotland and Catherine de' Medici in France, simply because they were women of power, he turned his attention to me. He regarded himself as the great reformer, the guardian of the people's conscience. In his opinion only papists were more to be despised than women.

He thundered forth in his pulpit, and he had only recently brought forth his First Blast of the Trumpet against the Monstrous Regiment