'When I am dead, they shall succeed that have most right,' she declared. 'If the Queen your sovereign be that person, I shall never hurt her; if another have better right, it were not reasonable to require me to do a manifest injury.' However, she conceded that she knew of no better title than Mary's, and that if she could avoid a public declaration of her intentions, which might prejudice her security since 'more people Worship the rising than the setting sun', she had no objection to naming Mary as her successor. Nevertheless, Henry VIII's will and the Act of Succession might preclude her from doing so, and any claim Mary might 128.

make would have to be debated in Parliament. 'I am sworn, when I was married to the realm, not to alter the laws of it,' the Queen reminded Maitland. It would be better, she went on, if Mary tried to win the love of the English by showing herself a friendly neighbour; then they might be better disposed to regard her as the rightful heiress.

Even so, the matter was fraught with dangers.

'Think you that I could love my winding sheet, when, as examples show, princes cannot even love their children that are to succeed them?' Elizabeth concluded. 'I have good experience of myself in my sister's time, how desirous men were that I should be in place, and earnest to set me up. It is hard to bind princes by any security where hope is offered of a kingdom. If it became certainly known in the world who should succeed me, I would never think myself in sufficient security.'

This was quite unsatisfactory from Mary's point of view, but it was nevertheless a friendly and reasonable reception of her request, and it paved the way for more cordial dealings between the two queens.

On 17 September Elizabeth wrote again to Mary to demand the ratification of the treaty, but Maitland, during a second audience at which he was less conciliatory, warned her that if Mary was not named heiress to the crown, she might try to take it by force. He reminded Elizabeth that, 'Although Your Majesty takes yourself to be lawful, yet are ye not always so taken abroad in the world.' The Queen was so unnerved by this stark appraisal that Maitland was able to wring from her the assurance that she would review and alter the wording of the treaty. Cecil was naturally unhappy about this, since it had, after all, been his handiwork; he distrusted Mary for her Catholicism and her pretensions to the English throne, and he told Elizabeth so in candid terms, so that she was soon regretting having conceded so much.

By December, she was urging that she and Mary should meet soon to discuss their differences, and she wrote again to Mary, suggesting this. Mary responded warmly, expressing her delight at the prospect of seeing her 'dearest sister' face to face, and taxing Thomas Randolph minutely as to Elizabeth's 'health, exercise, diet and many more questions'. Gazing at her cousin's portrait, she 'said she wished that one of them was a man, so that their kingdoms could be united by marital alliance'.

'I think the Queen shall be able to do much with her [Mary] in religion if they once enter in a good familiarity,' Maitland told Cecil hopefully. What he did not express was his suspicion that Mary would be no match intellectually for Elizabeth, a fear shared by several of Mary's advisers. But such meetings were not arranged overnight, and there followed several months of letters and diplomatic negotiations, during which time the two queens grew increasingly impatient, so enthusiastic were they at the prospect of a personal encounter.

129.

Maitland wrote to Cecil: 'I see my sovereign so transported with affection that she respects nothing so she may meet with her cousin, and needs no persuasion, but is a great deal more earnestly bent on it than her counsellors dare advise her.' Both the Scots and the English lords were loudly protesting at the expense of funding a state visit by Mary to England, and Elizabeth's advisers were warning her that the climate of political opinion in France, which was then strongly anti-Guise, was against the visit. But Elizabeth would not listen: in her opinion, much good could come out of a meeting with Mary, and that hope outweighed the risk of offending the French.

There were also compelling personal reasons underpinning Elizabeth's desire to see her cousin. Being inordinately vain, she was curious to see if Mary was as beautiful as reported, and also eager to find that she was not. Elizabeth was jealous of her reputation as the most desirable catch in Europe, and could not bear competition. When a German diplomat told her that Mary was reputed to be very lovely, she retorted that that could not be so as 'she herself was superior to the Queen of Scotland'.

In England, Elizabeth's popularity had survived the Dudley scandal. On 8 September 1561, when she arrived to take up residence at St James's Palace in London, ten thousand people turned out to see her, 'such was their gladness and affection for her'.

That autumn, Erik of Sweden again offered himself as a future consort for the Queen, but although she appeared to encourage him for a time, she only did so, according to de Quadra, to prevent him from switching his attentions to Mary, Queen of Scots. But it was not long before even this hitherto dauntless suitor lost interest and gave up. Seven years later Erik was to be deposed by Duke John of Finland, who would have him murdered in 1577.

Dudley's star was still in the ascendant. In November 1561, Elizabeth was observed, wearing a disguise, leaving Whitehall by a back exit to watch him take part in a shooting match. On 26 December, the Queen restored to his brother Ambrose Dudley the earldom of Warwick, once held by his father and late brother, together with Warwick Castle and huge tracts of land in the Midlands, while on 22 December, Dudley was admitted to membership of the Inner Temple of the Inns of Court, whom he had supported in a land dispute. Five days later he presided over a magnificent gathering in the great hall of the Temple, while on the next day, plays were performed there, all with a common theme, that the Queen should marry Dudley.

Dudley himself was still occasionally hopeful that this might come to Pass, but the ambassador of the Duke of Saxony reported to his master that Elizabeth had told him 'that she had never thought of contracting a 130.

marriage with my Lord Robert, but she was more attached to him than to any of the others, because when she was deserted by everybody in the reign of her sister, not only did he never lessen in any degree his kindness and humble attention to her, but he even sold his possessions that he might assist her with money, and therefore she thought it was just that she should make some return for his good faith and constancy'.

Dudley wanted more than that. In January 1562, he again approached de Quadra with a plea that King Philip endorse his suit for Elizabeth's hand by a written recommendation. This time, he did not insult the Spaniards by pretending that his conversion to Catholicism would follow, but merely hinted that the French were offering him substantial bribes to use his influence with the Queen on their behalf. However, de Quadra was not to be fooled a second time. He smoothly replied that Her Majesty was already aware that King Philip was anxious to see her married and she knew too that he had high hopes of Dudley. Therefore a letter such as his lordship suggested would be quite unnecessary. As de Quadra saw it, the real stumbling block was the Queen's inability to reach a decision about her marriage; he himself would raise the matter with her again, if Dudley wished it.

Dudley did, and soon afterwards the Bishop was inquiring of the Queen whether she had made up her mind to marry.

'I am as free from any engagement as the day I was born,' she told him, adding that she had resolved never to accept any suitor she had not met, which meant, she realised, that she would have to marry an Englishman, 'in which case she thought she could find no person more fitting than Lord Robert'. What she wanted, she continued, were letters from friendly princes, including King Philip, recommending that she marry Dudley, so that her subjects could never accuse her of choosing him in order to satisfy her own desires. This, she said, was what Dudley himself wanted.

De Quadra was, unsurprisingly, suspicious of her motives, and 'in a joking way' he sidestepped her request and advised her not to hesitate any longer, but to satisfy Dudley without delay, because he knew that King Philip would be glad to hear of it. In reality, both de Quadra and King Philip knew that by marrying Dudley Elizabeth would be sacrificing both status and reputation, which would weaken her position and perhaps leave the way clear for a strong Catholic claimant - such as was now to be found just north of the border.

Around this time, Elizabeth restored to Dudley many of the lands once held by his father, giving him the means to maintain his position. Later in the year she granted him a lucrative licence to export woollen cloth free of duty. Once again, rumour had it that she meant to marry him, and by June it was common talk in London that they had secretly 131.

married at Baynard's Castle, the London residence of Dudley's friend, the Earl of Pembroke. The Queen found this all very amusing, and took pleasure in teasing de Quadra, telling him how her ladies had asked her if they were now to kiss Dudley's hand as well as hers. Dudley himself was going about openly saying that Elizabeth had indeed promised to marry him, 'but not this year'.

The Council accused de Quadra of spreading the story of the secret marriage, but he denied that he had done so, declaring that he was only sorry he could not inform anyone that the Queen was married.

By the spring of 1562, the Countess of Lennox and her son, Lord Darnley, had been released from house arrest in London and received back into favour by the Queen. But Lady Lennox was a woman of powerful ambitions, and it was not long before she resumed her intrigues to marry Darnley to Queen Mary, thereby uniting two claims to the English throne, a prospect that had already alarmed Elizabeth considerably. This time, however, the Countess went too far, for her plans hinted at the deposition of the Queen. Her plotting was soon uncovered, and for her suspected treasonable designs she was arrested and sent to the Tower.

In May, after months of frustrating negotiations, Mary sent Maitland back to England with instructions to procure an invitation for her to make the proposed state visit soon. Elizabeth told Maitland that there was now nothing to delay her meeting with his sovereign, whereupon a jubilant Mary wrote to the Duke of Guise, 'You can think how astonished others will be when they see us, the Queen of England and me, according so well!'

Unfortunately, a religious war between Catholics and Huguenots had just erupted in France, prompting Sir Nicholas Throckmorton and Robert Dudley to urge Elizabeth to offer full support for the oppressed Huguenots, who might in return be able to assist her towards the recovery of Calais, a fulfilment of one of her dearest dreams. Throckmorton warned her that a meeting with the Catholic Mary, a relation of the Guises, would be impolitic at this time.

Mary was dismayed when she heard that the project might be abandoned, but Elizabeth was reluctant to become embroiled in a foreign civil war and resolutely insisted on going ahead with the meeting, arguing that many benefits would result from it. Her Council, however, when ordered to finalise plans for the state visit, strongly advised her not to meet with Mary at present because to do so would only identify her with, and so strengthen, the Guise cause, bringing further suffering to the French Protestants who she should be succouring. But Elizabeth was obstinate. Unless Throckmorton 132.

her otherwise, she declared, 'go she would' to meet Mary, and that was an end to the matter.

Preparations for the visit were set in train, although unseasonably wet weather that rendered the roads impassable held things up. Not surprisingly, someone - Sir Henry Sidney - 'groaned and lamented' in an urgent letter to Throckmorton, pointing out that only he could dissuade the Queen from her disastrous purpose, and begging him to use his persuasive powers to good effect. But before Throckmorton could respond, the religious conflict in France ended in an uneasy peace on 25 June, and the way was left clear for the two queens to meet.

Two weeks later Elizabeth and Maitland discussed the final plans for Mary's visit, which would take place at York, or another northern city convenient to the Scots Queen, between 20 August and 20 September, and Maitland then hastened north to acquaint Mary with the details. In York, the civic authorities were already buying in vast stores of provisions to meet the needs of the two royal retinues, and plans were made for a series of tournaments, whilst courtiers on both sides of the border ordered new clothes, most of them grumbling at the expense.

Six days later, Throckmorton sent an urgent message to inform the English government that, despite Catherine de' Medici's efforts to preserve the peace, civil war had broken out again in France. This time Elizabeth knew she could not allow the Huguenot leaders, the Prince de Conde and Admiral de Coligny, to be thrown to the wolves without intervening to help them. She had been dismayed to hear that Mary was actively encouraging her Catholic relations to overthrow the Huguenots, and on 15 July, she reluctantly dispatched Sir Henry Sidney to Scotland to inform the Scots Queen that her visit must be postponed for a year. The effect on Mary, who had nurtured great hopes of the meeting, was to cause her to take to her bed and remain there weeping all day, only rallying when Sidney managed to convince her that Elizabeth was as disappointed as she was.

Unlike Elizabeth, Mary had definitely resolved to marry, preferably a powerful Catholic prince who would intimidate Elizabeth into revising the Treaty of Edinburgh in Mary's favour. Elizabeth was aware of her intentions, and they caused her the gravest concern, since the Queen of Scots' attraction lay not only in her present status, but also in her expected future inheritance. If Mary were to marry a prince of the royal houses of Spain, Austria or France, Elizabeth would have the Catholic threat brought right to her back doorstep, her chief fear being that Scotland might then be used as a springboard for an invasion of England.

Elizabeth had therefore decided to use her subtle powers of persuasion to influence Mary to take a less dangerous husband, one preferably of Elizabeth's own choosing. She had even suggested to Maitland that 133.

Mary might marry a member of the English aristocracy, but he had dismissed that idea, saying that his sovereign would never consider any match that might diminish her reputation.

In fact, Mary had set her sights on Don Carlos, Philip II's heir, whom she had heard described at the French court as a brave and gallant prince, but who was, in reality, a sadistic degenerate who suffered epileptic fits. She was not interested in Charles IX - he was too young - nor in the Archduke Charles of Austria - he was too poor.

Elizabeth, of course, had no desire to see Mary married to the heir to Catholic Spain, and warned Mary that, if she went ahead with it, she, Elizabeth, would ever afterwards be her enemy. 'Consider well your steps,' was her advice; if Mary chose a husband agreeable to the English, Elizabeth would be her good friend for life.

Two months later, Elizabeth signed a treaty pledging her assistance to the Huguenots, who in return placed their port of Newhaven (later renamed Le Havre) in English hands as surety for the future restoration of Calais, which they hoped to wrest from their enemies.

Elizabeth's patriotic sentiments had been fired by the prospect of recovering Calais, and in October 1562, she gave orders for the mustering of a force of six thousand men, whose commander was to be Ambrose Dudley, Earl of Warwick; they were to sail to Newhaven and Dieppe and reinforce the Huguenot armies in the region.

However, before she could give the order for her soldiers to leave for France, the Queen fell so dangerously ill that her life was despaired of.

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Chapter 8.

'Without a Certain Heir'

Smallpox was exceptionally virulent during the early years of Elizabeth's reign, and in the early 1560s reached epidemic form, seeming to single out 'aged folks and ladies': the Countess of Bedford and hundreds of lesser folk had recently succumbed to it. Smallpox was a dreaded disease, not only because it was life-threatening, but also because those who did survive it were often left horribly disfigured. Thomas Randolph described the early symptoms as being 'a pain in their heads that have it, and a soreness in their stomachs with a great cough'.

Queen Elizabeth was at Hampton Court when, on 10 October 1562, she first felt unwell. Believing, as many did then, that it would effect a cure, she immersed herself in a bath, then took a bracing walk outdoors; as a result, she caught a chill. Within hours, she had taken to her bed, running a high temperature.

Dr Burcot, a respected but irascible German physician, was summoned to examine her. He diagnosed smallpox, but there were no spots, and the Queen dismissed him for a fool. No eruptions appeared, which many believed betokened the onset of a serious attack, and a day or so later the fever grew worse. By 16 October she was very ill indeed, first becoming incapable of speech and then lapsing into an unconscious state in which she remained for twenty-four hours. The royal doctors, fearing that her death was imminent, sent urgently for Cecil to come down from London.

The next night, Elizabeth drifted in and out of consciousness as the crisis approached, and there was a hurried convening of an anxious Privy Council, whose members were all panic-stricken over the unresolved matter of the succession. If the Queen died, as most believed she would, who should succeed her? Over the next few days there were urgent discussions, with the councillors, according to de Quadra, divided in their opinions: extreme Protestants favoured Lady Katherine Grey, 135.

while moderates supported the Earl of Huntingdon, who had no near blood relationship to the Queen. The rest wanted the judiciary to determine the matter. Not one spoke in support of Mary, Queen of Scots. But a consensus was lacking, which hinted at deep divisions and boded ominously for the future.

As the court prepared to go into mourning, Lord Hunsdon persuaded a reluctant Dr Dr Burcot - some said at the point of a dagger - to resume his treatment of the Queen. Following a curative measure first used by the Arabs and recommended by the English medieval physician John of Gaddesden, Burcot ordered that she be wrapped in red flannel, laid on a pallet beside the fire, and given a potion of his devising. Two hours later, Elizabeth was conscious and able to speak. Burcot - some said at the point of a dagger - to resume his treatment of the Queen. Following a curative measure first used by the Arabs and recommended by the English medieval physician John of Gaddesden, Burcot ordered that she be wrapped in red flannel, laid on a pallet beside the fire, and given a potion of his devising. Two hours later, Elizabeth was conscious and able to speak.

Fearfully, the councillors gathered around her bedside. She was aware that she was dangerously ill - 'Death possessed every joint of me,' she told a parliamentary delegation soon afterwards - and her chief concern was to make provision for the government of England after her death. Turning in extremis in extremis to the one man she felt she could trust, she commanded the councillors to appoint Robert Dudley Lord Protector of England, with the magnificent salary of 20,000 per annum. She also asked that his personal servant, Tamworth, who slept in his room, be given a large pension of 500 per annum. Many people thought, then as now, that this was to buy the silence of one who had stood guard while the Queen and Dudley were alone, but Elizabeth, anticipating that adverse conclusions would be drawn, declared 'that, although she loved and always had loved Lord Robert dearly, as God was her witness, nothing unseemly had ever passed between them'. It is hardly likely that one who believed she would shortly be facing divine judgement would have lied over such a matter. to the one man she felt she could trust, she commanded the councillors to appoint Robert Dudley Lord Protector of England, with the magnificent salary of 20,000 per annum. She also asked that his personal servant, Tamworth, who slept in his room, be given a large pension of 500 per annum. Many people thought, then as now, that this was to buy the silence of one who had stood guard while the Queen and Dudley were alone, but Elizabeth, anticipating that adverse conclusions would be drawn, declared 'that, although she loved and always had loved Lord Robert dearly, as God was her witness, nothing unseemly had ever passed between them'. It is hardly likely that one who believed she would shortly be facing divine judgement would have lied over such a matter.

Although the councillors were much dismayed by her commands, 'everything she asked was promised', for nobody wished to distress her with any arguments, since she was 'all but gone', but, according to de Quadra, 'it will not be fulfilled'. It was obvious that the appointment of Dudley as Lord Protector could only provoke a bitter power struggle.

Shortly afterwards, Dr Burcot entered the royal bedchamber with some medicine, and it was at this point that Elizabeth groaned as she noticed that the first red eruptions of smallpox had appeared on her hands.

'God's pestilence!' swore the doctor at his august patient. 'Which is better? To have a pox in the hand, or in the face, or in the heart and kill the whole body?' The spots, he told the anxiously hovering councillors, were a good sign, and indicated that the worst was over. Soon, the pustules would dry out, form scabs and fall off.

From then onwards, to the profound relief of the Council and her 136.

subjects at large, Elizabeth improved rapidly - Randolph wrote that she was in bed for six days only - but it had been a near thing, and her grateful subjects issued a coin to mark her recovery. Her brush with Death, 'the blind Fury with the abhorred shears', brought home to them as nothing else could that only her life, which could be snuffed out at any time, stood between peaceful, stable government and the uncertainties of a disputed succession, which could easily lead to civil war. The scare left both councillors and Members of Parliament determined to force the Queen to marry and provide the country with an heir without further dithering or fruitless prolonging of courtships and diplomatic negotiations.

Throughout her illness, Elizabeth had insisted that only her favourite ladies attend upon her, and none nursed her more devotedly than her friend, Lady Mary Sidney, wife of Sir Henry, and sister to Dudley. But while the Queen's pockmarks eventually faded, Lady Mary caught the dreaded smallpox and emerged from it so hideously scarred that she never appeared publicly at court again. Sir Henry Sidney was abroad throughout her illness, and later wrote, 'When I went to Newhaven, I left her a full, fair lady, in mine eyes at least the fairest, and when I returned, I found her as foul a lady as the smallpox could make her, which she did take by continual attendance on Her Majesty's most precious person. Now she lives solitary.'

Elizabeth remained friends with Mary Sidney, being truly sorry for her tragedy, and would visit her privately at Penshurst Place in Kent, the Sidney country seat. On the rare occasions when Mary could be persuaded to come to court, she remained in her apartment, and the Queen, abandoning royal precedent and etiquette, visited her there.

As for Dudley, who had very nearly become the ruler of England, on 20 October Elizabeth, having just settled on him a pension of#11000 per annum, finally made him a Privy Councillor; in order to preserve the peace, she bestowed the same honour upon his rival, Norfolk. Although the rivalry between the two men remained as intense as ever, they were now displaying in public a 'close intimacy'. As for Dudley, he was to prove a faithful and diligent councillor, attending more meetings than most right up to the end of his life.

By 25 October, Elizabeth had resumed her normal duties, but she was aware that certain demands would undoubtedly be made of her by Parliament: the mood in the country and the Council left her in little doubt of public feeling. She therefore tried to stall when it came to summoning Parliament, but her councillors were not prepared to suffer her delaying tactics. In November, weeping with rage, she had a furious confrontation with her former suitor Arundel, who stood his ground and defended the right of her lords to interfere in the matter of the 137.

succession, which touched the whole country. Later that month, Elizabeth, who needed the money that it could vote, had no choice but to summon Parliament.

When Elizabeth's second Parliament met on 12 January 1563, its members were determined to have the question of the succession settled once and for all. The matter was first raised when, during the opening ceremonies, Alexander Nowell, Dean of St Paul's, at Dudley's behest, castigated the Queen for failing to marry.

Just as Queen Mary's marriage was a terrible plague to all England, so now the want of Queen Elizabeth's marriage and issue is like to prove as great a plague. If your parents had been of like mind, where had you been then?' he asked the Queen. 'Alack! What shall become of us?' Elizabeth never spoke a friendly word to him again.

But the Lords and Commons were unanimous in supporting Nowell, and soon afterwards agreed that lovingly-worded petitions from both Houses should be submitted to Her Majesty, urging her to marry or designate a successor, for 'thereby shall she strike a terror into her adversaries and replenish her subjects with immortal joy'. Cecil supported the petitions, but not openly - 'The matter is so deep I cannot reach into it,' he wrote. 'God send it a good issue!'

Both petitions were couched in humble terms, reminding Elizabeth of the terror felt by her subjects during her illness and warning her what might ensue if she died without naming her successor: 'the unspeakable miseries of civil wars, the perilous intermeddlings of of foreign princes, with seditions, ambitions and factious subjects at home, the waste of noble houses, the slaughter of people, subversion of towns, unsurety of all men's possessions, lives and estates', attainders, treasons and a host of other calamities. foreign princes, with seditions, ambitions and factious subjects at home, the waste of noble houses, the slaughter of people, subversion of towns, unsurety of all men's possessions, lives and estates', attainders, treasons and a host of other calamities.

We fear a faction of heretics in your realm, contentious and malicious Papists. From the Conquest to the present day, the realm was never left as now it is without a certain heir. If Your Highness could conceive or imagine the comfort, surety and delight that should happen to yourself by beholding an imp of your own, it would sufficiently satisfy to remove all manner of impediments and scruples.

Elizabeth always took the view that neither her marriage nor the succession were the business of her subjects, but matters for herself alone, yet she could not afford to alienate Parliament, and therefore resorted to deliberate obfuscation and procrastination. After din.ier on 28 January, she graciously received the delegation from the Commons 138.

in the gallery at Whitehall Palace. The Speaker, on his knees, presented the Commons's petition, which she 'thankfully accepted' and then delivered 'an excellent oration' in which she assured him and his fellows that she was as worried as they were about the succession, and had been especially so since her illness. She won sympathy by confiding that the matter had occupied her mind constantly as she recuperated. 'Yet desired I not then life so much for my own safety as for yours.'

She laboured, she told them, under an intolerable burden. They were asking her to name a successor, but she could not wade into so deep a matter without weighty deliberation and was more concerned about choosing the right claimant. If her choice led to civil war, her subjects might lose their lives, 'but I hazard to lose both body and soul', she said, being responsible to God for her actions.

It was not their place, she admonished, to petition her on this matter, but she knew the difference between men who acted out of love and loyalty and those who were mischief-makers. She did not wish to hear them speak of her death, for she knew now, as well as before, that she was mortal. She would, she promised, take further advice, and then give them an answer.

'And so I assure you all', she concluded, 'that though after my death you may have many stepdames, yet shall you never have a more natural mother than I mean to be unto you all.'

Two days later she received the deputation from the Lords with their petition, in which they urged her to marry 'where it shall please you, to whom it shall please you, and as soon as it shall please you'. Even if she chose Robert Dudley, he would be better, they felt, than no husband at all. Failing this, they begged her to name her successor, since 'upon the death of princes the law dieth'. The Lords were anxious to have Mary Stuart's claim disposed of: they did not, 'as mere, natural Englishmen', wish to be 'subject to a foreign prince', and Mary was 'a stranger, who, by the laws of the realm, cannot inherit in England'. According to Sir Ralph Sadler, who served four Tudor sovereigns, 'the stones in the streets would rebel' at the prospect of Mary ruling England.

Displaying some irritation, the Queen told the delegation that she had made allowances for the Commons, where she had observed 'restless heads in whose brains the needless hammers beat with vain judgement', but she expected the Lords to know better than to press her on such weighty matters. It was not impossible that she would marry: 'The marks they saw on her face were not wrinkles, but the pits of smallpox, and although she might be old, God could send her children as He did to St Elisabeth, and they had better consider well what they were asking, as, if she declared a successor, it would cost much blood to England.'

Initially, both Lords and Commons were too impressed by her 139.

graciousness and her powers of oratory to realise that Elizabeth had stalled again; they really believed that she would now take steps to resolve the matters of her marriage and the succession, when in fact she had promised nothing at all. Consequently, Parliament refrained from debating the succession, although by 12 February, the Commons were getting restive, and sent the Queen a humble reminder that they were waiting for an answer. But Elizabeth was biding her time until Parliament had voted the subsidy she wanted.

Parliament had by then proceeded to its other business, that of passing legislation to protect the Anglican Settlement of 1559. These Acts extended the Oath of Supremacy required from all in public life, and imposed penalties upon those who upheld the authority of the Pope and those who opposed the Church of England. In February, Convocation approved the restoration of the Thirty-Nine Articles of Henry VIII (in place of the Forty-Two Articles of Edward VI) in which were enshrined the Church's basic doctrines: these were finally approved by Parliamentin 1571.

When, on 10 April, Parliament assembled for its closing ceremonies, the Queen, who had been voted her subsidy, attended and gave to the Lord Keeper, Sir Nicholas Bacon, a handwritten answer, composed by herself, to the petitions of the two Houses. Fuming over her subjects' temerity, she had written two earlier drafts which referred to the 'two huge scrolls' they had given her, but had amended this as her irritation subsided. In the final version she wrote: If any here doubt that I am, as it were by vow or determination, bent never to trade that way of life [i.e. spinsterhood], let them put out that kind of heresy for your belief therein is awry. For though I can think it best for a private woman, yet do I strive with myself to think it not meet for a prince. And if I can bend my liking to your need, I will not resist such a mind. I hope I shall die in quiet with 'Nunc dimittis', 'Nunc dimittis', which cannot be without I see some glimpses of your following surety after my graved bones. which cannot be without I see some glimpses of your following surety after my graved bones.

And that was that. Parliament was prorogued with what Elizabeth herself described as an 'answer answerless', a most unsatisfactory response to its carefully-drafted petitions.

By rejecting the claim of Mary Stuart to be Elizabeth's successor, the Lords were by implication endorsing that of Lady Katherine Grey, whom many supported. Lady Katherine and Lord Hertfoid had remained in the Tower since August 1561, but they had not been ill 140.

treated. Katherine's apartment was hung with rich curtains and tapestries, and she was permitted such comforts as a Turkey carpet and a line tester bed with a feather mattress. Delicacies were brought in for her table, and she was allowed to keep her pet dogs with her. All this had been arranged with the full knowledge and approval of the Queen, but what the Queen did not know was that Katherine's gaolers, feeling some sympathy for Katherine and her husband, had allowed the young couple to meet regularly and even share the feather mattress at night.

By the autumn of 1562 Katherine was pregnant again, and in the first week of February 1563, she gave birth to her second son, Thomas. This could not be concealed from Elizabeth, whose fury knew no bounds, and she gave orders that under no circumstances were Katherine and Lord Hertford to meet again. They never did, and Katherine spent the best part of the rest of her life weeping for her lost love.

Hertford was hauled before the Court of Star Chamber, where he was found guilty of having compounded his original offence of having 'deflowered a virgin of the blood royal in the Queen's house' by having 'ravished her a second time'. He was fined - 15,000, later commuted to .3000. As for Sir Edward Warner, the kindly Lieutenant of the Tower who had allowed the couple conjugal visits, he was dismissed from his post. - 15,000, later commuted to .3000. As for Sir Edward Warner, the kindly Lieutenant of the Tower who had allowed the couple conjugal visits, he was dismissed from his post.

In the summer, when there were cases of plague within the Tower, the Queen sent both young people, heavily guarded, into the country, there to be kept separately under house arrest. There was no question now of Elizabeth acknowledging Katherine Grey as heiress to the throne, but later that year talk of a secret conspiracy to have her two sons legitimised prompted the Queen to bring her cousin back to the Tower, lest she become a focus for rebellion. As a near relative in blood, with two sons, she represented a very dangerous threat to Elizabeth's security. Thereafter she remained in the Tower, being allowed to leave it only for short visits under guard to the Lieutenant's house in Suffolk, Cockfield Hall. Hertford's piteous requests to visit her there met with firm refusals.

Lady Katherine Grey died of tuberculosis in 1568 at Cockfield Hall. The Queen paid for a ceremonial funeral in Salisbury Cathedral. Although she never forgave Katherine for her secret marriage, she no longer nourished animosity towards Lord Hertford, who was released from the Tower. He married twice more and lived to be an old man. As for his sons by Katherine, they were placed in the care of Cecil, who brought them up for a time with his own children.

In February 1563, scandal had also touched Mary Stuart, who, since her return to Scotland, had cherished a nostalgia for the court of France and employed as her secretary a young French courtier called Pierre de 141.

Chastelard. Unwisely, Mary showed special favour to this gallant, but he soon grew too ardent in his behaviour towards his mistress, and could have seriously compromised her honour when he was discovered hiding under her bed by Scots lords who were jealous of his influence. They arrested him, and on 22 February had him executed.

After Queen Elizabeth had recovered from smallpox, Warwick's force had gone to France, where they had occupied Newhaven, but in March 1563 the capture of the Huguenot leaders and the murder of the Duke of Guise enabled Catherine de' Medici to bring the religious conflict to an end. The English troops were therefore technically redundant, but Elizabeth had invested her money in them in order to secure the return of Calais, and insisted that they remain in France to achieve this aim. However, with the country at peace, both Catholics and Protestants now united against the English invaders and laid siege to Newhaven. A terrible epidemic of plague swept through the English ranks and decimated their numbers. As the months went by, and the siege continued, it seemed increasingly likely that Calais was irretrievably lost.

During this time, Queen Mary consistently supported her 'dear sister, so tender a cousin and friend', having resisted all attempts by the Guise faction to draw her over to their side. On 2 November, Mary wrote to Elizabeth to express her relief that her cousin had recovered from her illness and that 'your beautiful face will lose none of its perfections'. Mary was still enthusiastic about meeting Elizabeth, and even more anxious to persuade her cousin to declare her her successor. Elizabeth wrote Mary affectionate letters of condolence on the death of the Duke of Guise, and after Parliament had been prorogued in April, she ordered the imprisonment of John Hales, a lawyer who wrote and circulated a pamphlet deriding Mary's claim to the throne and supporting that of Lady Katherine Grey. The Queen also temporarily banished his patron, Sir Nicholas Bacon, from court.

Maitland was still pressing for Mary to be acknowledged as heiress presumptive, but the problem of the succession was a complex one, as Elizabeth knew well. The succession was not a thing she could bestow as a gift, it was a right under the law, and there was, as we have seen, much dispute over whose claim was the strongest. For Parliament to accept Mary, Queen of Scots as Elizabeth's heir, Mary would have to demonstrate that she had English interests at heart, and her marriage plans so far had done little to reinforce this conviction. Elizabeth complained to Cecil that she was 'in such a labyrinth' with regard to the problem of Mary and the succession that she had no idea what course to follow, yet Cecil could not offer much comfort. Elizabeth knew he distrusted Mary because of her Catholicism, but he had also told her that 142.

if she excluded her cousin from the succession, the result would probably be war. Cecil's unwelcome advice was that Elizabeth should marry as soon as possible.

Unaware of his sadistic tendencies, Mary was still pursuing negotiations for a marriage to Don Carlos, which was seen in England as being directly opposed to English interests. Elizabeth's chief desire was to see Mary married to a loyal Englishman, and it was around this time that she first conceived the idea of proposing Robert Dudley as a husband for the Scots Queen. It seems that, initially, this was her way of paying him back for inciting Parliament to press her into marriage. Gradually she grew to like the idea and began to pursue it seriously.

It was not such a preposterous notion as it seemed. Dudley was the one man who could be trusted to promote England's welfare north of the Border; indebted to Elizabeth for his meteoric rise to power and an almost princely status, he would not be likely to forget the woman for whom he felt a genuine affection, if not love. Dudley was hungry for a crown and had a penchant for attractive redheads; by marrying him, Mary would remove herself from the European marriage market, and the threat of foreign interference in Scotland would recede. England and Scotland would draw closer together in friendship. As a Protestant, Dudley would be acceptable to the Calvinist lords and would hold the Scots Catholics in check. The drawback, of course, was that Elizabeth would have to give him up, but it seems that she had already decided to embrace celibacy, and, hard as renouncing him would be, she convinced herself she could do so if she knew that it was to her and England's advantage. Moreover, royal marriage negotiations took so long that their parting might be months, if not years, away.

Few people shared her view of the situation. Only Cecil, who perceived what good could result from the match and who, for reasons of his own, wanted Dudley out of the way, supported the plan. When, in the spring of 1563, Elizabeth first broached the matter to Maitland, quite suddenly in a private audience, saying that she was prepared to offer his Queen a husband 'in whom nature had implanted so many graces that, if she wished to marry, she would prefer him to all the princes in the 'world', an embarrassed Maitland guessed whom she was referring to and tried to pass the whole thing off as some royal joke. When, however, he saw that Elizabeth meant what she said, he stuttered 'that this was a great proof of the love she bore his Queen, that she was willing to give her a thing so dearly prized by herself, but he felt certain his sovereign would not wish to deprive her cousin of 'all the joy and solace she received from his company'. Elizabeth was not to be put off. It was unfortunate, she said, that the Earl of Warwick was not as handsome as his younger brother, for had this been so Queen Mary 143.

could have married Ambrose while she herself became the wife of Dudley. Maitland rejoined that Her Majesty ought to marry him anyway, 'and then when it should please God to call her to Himself, she could leave the Queen of Scots heiress to both her kingdom and her husband; that way, Lord Robert could hardly fail to have children by one or other of them'.

Cecil also praised Dudley to the skies, writing to Maitland that he was 'a nobleman of birth, void of all evil conditions that sometimes are heritable to princes, and in goodness of nature and richness of good gifts comparable to any prince born and, so it may be said with due reverence and without offence to princes, much better than a great sort now living. He is also dearly and singularly esteemed [Cecil had written "beloved" here, but crossed it out] of the Queen's Majesty, so as she can think no good turn or fortune greater than may be well bestowed upon him.' In Maitland's private opinion, the Queen's plan to foist her discarded lover - a commoner - upon Mary Stuart was little short of insulting, especially in view of his reputation as a former traitor and suspected wife murderer, and when the ambassador returned to Scotland he said nothing of Elizabeth's suggestion to Mary. But he had informed de Quadra of it, de Quadra informed King Philip, and before long the news had spread rapidly to Scotland and France. Everywhere it met with derision, and few believed that Elizabeth was serious.

Elizabeth was determinedly set on her course, and having made this resolution, she could afford to be generous to Lady Lennox. She ordered her release in the spring of 1563, making it conditional upon a promise that Lady Lennox would never again scheme to marry her son to the Queen of Scots. Furthermore, in June Elizabeth wrote to Queen Mary asking that an old attainder on the Earl of Lennox be reversed, so that he could return to his estates in Scotland.

Dudley was still riding the crest of success. In June, Elizabeth bestowed upon him Kenilworth Castle in Warwickshire, a huge medieval fortress that had been converted by John of Gaunt in the fourteenth century into a luxurious palace. Northumberland had briefly owned it, and Dudley had had his eye on it for some years. Now he would have a country seat of his own, just five miles south of Warwick Castle, the residence of his older brother Ambrose, and he wasted no time in drawing up elaborate plans for its improvement and renovation in order to make it a fit place to entertain the Queen. It would be ten years before Kenilworth was ready to receive her, and then it would be the most magnificent of all Elizabethan mansions.

Dudley enjoyed a standard of luxury tasted by few, yet he was still living beyond his means. His pride demanded that he make it known how munificently the Queen had enriched him, which led to him being 144.