Chapter 26 #3
For the fires of Smithfield and elsewhere were still burning.
Dozens of people had suffered for their faith.
More English Protestants were now fleeing to Geneva, and also to the Protestant cities of Frankfurt, Zürich, and Strasbourg.
The Duchess of Suffolk had fled, too. Will had informed Francis that so many English Protestants had sought refuge in Geneva that an English congregation had been set up.
He and Dot had become members. Dot, he added, was expecting another child, to their great joy.
Again, Kate and Francis discussed in earnest whether they should flee England, but Francis was of the opinion that, as they had been conforming to the law for many months, and had given no one any occasion to inform on them, they should stay at home.
Kate had not wanted to go anyway—she could not imagine leaving Greys Court—so she concurred eagerly.
Yet she remained anxious, for herself and for her loved ones.
It was as if they were walking on the edge of a precipice and one false step could send them plunging to their doom.
She lived with this fear every hour of every day.
Each time she looked at her children, she was overcome with dread. At times, she could barely eat.
Late in September England suffered torrential rain and floods.
Men and beasts drowned, houses were flooded, the harvest was ruined, and the damage to farming and trade was immense.
Francis and Kate found it a challenge to succor their tenants, who feared starvation in the winter months, and laid in as many stocks of grain and hard cheeses as they could.
Great barrels brimming with oats, herbs, vegetables, and beans for making pottage were stored in the barns.
For days, the house was filled with the pungent smells of smoking meat and boiling apples.
Other storm clouds were on the horizon. In October, the Protestant bishops Hugh Latimer and Nicholas Ridley were burned in Oxford.
The children’s tutor, Dr. Palmer, had been present.
His face was grim when he returned and saw Francis and Kate.
“It is not a story for your tender ears, Madam,” he said.
“Maybe I could speak with the master alone?”
“Tell me!” Kate demanded. “I am not a child.”
He capitulated, looking unhappy. Kate suspected that he needed to share his horror with someone.
“The stake was in the town ditch. As they were chained to it, Latimer bade Ridley be of good comfort and play the man, for they were lighting such a candle, by God’s grace, in England, as he trusted would never be put out. ”
The words brought tears to Kate’s eyes. It was marvelous, nay, incredible, that someone could be so brave in such circumstances.
“Latimer died quickly,” Palmer continued, “but Ridley’s sufferings were immense, for he burned for three-quarters of an hour.”
“I think we have heard enough,” Francis said, looking anxiously at Kate, who was feeling sick. “Thank you, Palmer.” The tutor bowed and handed him a crumpled piece of paper, then departed wordlessly.
Francis led Kate into the parlor and sat her down by the fire.
Then he smoothed out the paper, which seemed to be some kind of pamphlet.
“If you believe this, Bishop Ridley is not the only martyr to endure great agony,” he muttered.
“It says that this wet weather has resulted in prolonged torture for several poor souls sentenced to be burned. It claims that the public outcry against the burnings has intensified, and that there have often been violent demonstrations at executions. The Catholic religion has become synonymous with brutality, and many long to see Elizabeth on the throne, for she will surely call a halt to the burnings and send the Spaniards back where they belong.” He looked at Kate, his face ashen.
“This is treason, no less. Imagine what could have happened had this pamphlet got into the wrong hands. To commit such sedition to paper—words fail me. And Palmer is a fool to have bought it, and kept it on his person. He could have put us all in danger. I shall have to impress on him that, whatever I was in the past, I am now the Queen’s loyal subject and obey her laws.
And this”—he screwed up the pamphlet—“can be burned.” He tossed it into the flames.
As Kate watched, she was imagining being in the heart of the fire.
—
Elizabeth rose from her chair in the great chamber and held out her hands. “No, Kate, do not kneel to me! You are my own dear cousin, and I am delighted to see you.”
She had written to Kate earlier in October to say she was at Hatfield, and looking forward to seeing her. When he’d kissed her goodbye, Francis had urged Kate not to stay too long, and she knew he was worried lest anything untoward happened while they were apart.
Kate went into Elizabeth’s arms, a little awed by this tall, slim woman in her high-necked black gown trimmed with fur and the severe French hood crowning her red hair. There was about her a new maturity and a certain distancing—inevitable, Kate supposed, given what Elizabeth had gone through.
“I have missed you!” she cried, as they embraced. “It has been far too long. I cannot tell you how much I have worried about you.”
“I had a terrible time,” Elizabeth told her, shuddering. “When I was in the Tower, I lived in dread every day that they were going to come and lead me out to the scaffold. You cannot imagine what it was like in there.”
“I know what it’s like,” Kate reminded her. “I attended your sainted mother in those very rooms.”
“Yes.” Elizabeth paused, looking pained. “And you have named your daughter for her. I am deeply touched. Come, sit down.” She showed Kate to a chair by the fire, opposite her own, and summoned a servant to fetch some hot spiced wine.
As they sat sipping their drinks, they caught up on their news—or, rather, they caught up on Elizabeth’s news.
“It was King Philip who had me set at liberty,” she told Kate.
“He wants my favor and—well, I believe he likes me. The Queen was not happy. I don’t think she will ever trust me again, or believe that I took no part in Wyatt’s rebellion, although I swear to you, Kate, that I did not.
When I was given the freedom of the court, she made it plain that she did not delight greatly in my presence, but only suffered it for Philip’s sake.
It must have galled her to do as he asked and treat me with kindness and respect.
By God, she could barely conceal her animosity!
She hates me, even though she puts on a civil face.
We talk about agreeable subjects only. I dare not mention the King, as she is so jealous of the favor he shows me. ”
Elizabeth’s face was flushed, and Kate wondered if her head had been turned by Philip’s attentions.
“He is thinking of the future,” Elizabeth said, as if she had read her mind. “I may not say more.”
It was obvious what she was thinking, but to voice it would have been folly.
“Would you want him?” Kate whispered, aware that walls sometimes had ears.
“I mean him to think that I do!” Her cousin laughed.
“But I have been taking care to behave with circumspection. I even attended Mass daily with the Queen in those last weeks when I was at court. I tell you, Kate, it has been a relief to escape into the country. I find myself liking the quiet life. I have leisure to continue my studies, to walk and ride and do as I please without a thousand eyes watching me.”
“Being at court must have been a great strain,” Kate commiserated, wondering when Elizabeth was going to ask about her life. She longed to unburden her fears to her. But her hostess was too full of her own affairs.
“The Emperor has offered his nephew Ferdinand as a husband for me,” she snorted. “I don’t think the King is keen on the match. He has something quite different in mind for me!”
Kate thought it wiser not to comment.
“But he has gone to fight his war against the French, so I am at the Queen’s mercy. She was deeply grieved when they said farewell. She loves him hopelessly. After he left, it seemed like a court in perpetual mourning. That was another reason why I was glad to get away.”
“The Queen won’t bear a son if the King is abroad—and England needs an heir,” Kate observed, sipping her wine.
“England has her heir—me! And there will be no other. No one thinks Mary will bear a child. She is too old. And I have my doubts that Philip will return. What is there to return for?”
“Is he not hot to stamp out the Protestant religion?”
Elizabeth laughed mirthlessly. “You might think so, but in truth he is trying to curb the Queen’s zeal, since he is being blamed for the burnings.
But it is she who is set on them. She believes that the hearts of the people have been hardened by heresy and that more examples must be made to bring them to their senses.
She wants all Protestants eradicated. No one can gainsay her. ”
“Is this not a terrible persecution?” Kate muttered.
“We must not say so.” Elizabeth’s face was set.
“I never thought that England, our dear, merry England, would turn out to be such a dangerous place.”
Elizabeth looked at Kate sharply. “You are not thinking of leaving?”
“If things get too perilous, yes, we are. Francis has already been to Geneva to arrange a welcome for our English exiles.”
“Don’t let him talk you into it,” Elizabeth said, bristling. “Now that we are restored to each other, I could not bear to lose you. You have no idea how much I missed you during those horrible months when I was shut away.”
Kate was aware of the emotional blackmail. “If we are ever in danger, we will have to go.”
“Then I pray you will never be!” Elizabeth said fervently. “You are so dear to me—do not forget it!”
—
In December, Francis returned from the village looking worried. “I met Father Michael,” he told Kate, warming his hands by the fire. “He told me that Parliament has passed an Act confiscating the estates of those who choose exile.”
Kate stared into the flames, appalled. “Then we cannot flee abroad if the need arises.”
“If we did, we would lose everything.”
“All we can do is pray that we never come under suspicion.”
“Heaven knows, we conform outwardly, for all the world to see.”
“Then let us hope we will be safe.” Kate was not convinced. When she looked at her children, all of them excitedly getting ready for Christmas, she felt deep shivers of fear. What would the future hold for them? Would they truly be safe?”