I said, “I must get out of the country. I must have a refuge where I can live in safety until the time when I can claim my throne and do my duty to God and my country.”

“You mean escape… leave England?”

“It is what I have decided. I firmly believe that if I stay here they will find some way of ridding themselves of me.”

“They would never let you go.”

“Indeed they would not. So I must go in secret.”

He looked alarmed. “It would be a great undertaking.”

“Nevertheless, I am of the opinion that it is the only way. I have a premonition that they are plotting to be rid of me. I must foil them in that. To stay here… their easy victim…is to play into their hands. You know my health is not good. Even now I am telling them that it will not allow me to go to Court. It will be easy for them. ‘Poor Mary,' they will say. ‘She was never very strong. It was inevitable.' I can see it all so clearly. You must help me, Ambassador.”

“I will do everything I can.”

“Very well. Get in touch with the Emperor. Tell him what we have discussed. Send this ring to him. He will remember it, for he himself gave it to me long ago. When he sees it, he will know how dire my need is, for otherwise I should not have sent the ring to him.”

Van der Delft was silent for a few moments. Then he said, “I will write to the Emperor at once, and I will send a trusted messenger with the ring. There must be absolute silence on this matter. I beg of you, do not speak of it to anyone.”

I readily agreed with him.

I felt a good deal better after van der Delft left. I put my trust in the Emperor.


* * *

EAGERLY I WAITED for some reply. I felt better. I must live until the rescue came.

After weeks of my waiting, watching the roads, finding the frustration almost unendurable, van der Delft came with a reply from the Emperor.

He was hesitant so I guessed before he told me that the Emperor was not over-enthusiastic about the scheme.

“What does he say?” I commanded. “Please tell me. Hold nothing back.”

“The Emperor feels it would be a hazardous undertaking. The task of getting you out of the kingdom could be almost insuperable.”

“I know it will be difficult but surely with careful planning…”

Van der Delft nodded. He was wary. He did not tell me what I discovered later, that the Emperor had raised the point of who would support me when I arrived in his realm. I was glad I did not know that, for it would have wounded me deeply. It had not occurred to me at the time that a princess must have her household, and a cousin of the Emperor could not live like a pauper, and if I left England I would be thrown on his bounty. But van der Delft had the tact and courtesy to keep that from me. I should have remembered that, during the difficult times through which my mother had passed, the Emperor had always been too deeply involved with his dominions to give more than moral support. I should have been more realistic. I should have understood that, to the Emperor, the trials of his relations and even the break with Rome were not major concerns. He was the most successful and most powerful ruler in Europe and could not be diverted in the smallest way from the immense task of remaining so. He would help me only if that did not disturb him too much and if no sacrifices were demanded.

That was why he was not enthusiastic about my plan to leave the country. Instead he thought of a more traditional way out of my troubles. Marriage.

If I married, I could leave the country with dignity and so escape from danger.

I said, “And when the time comes for me to claim the throne?”

“The Emperor says you would have a husband to help you.”

“But I should not be here.”

“The Emperor thinks it is a good plan, and you would not be here if you escaped.”

“And whom does he suggest?”

“Dom Luiz, brother of the King of Portugal.”

“No,” I said. “No.”

“The Emperor feels it is the best solution.”

Was that a hint? If I did not agree, I could not rely on his help?

Van der Delft was putting forward his master's point of view. He reiterated, “If you escaped as you suggest, you would not be here. A husband would help you gain your throne.”

It did occur to me then that the Emperor was thinking that, if I married, I should not be his responsibility, but there was something in the suggestion that if I had to fight for my inheritance I would need help.

I began to see that my plan to leave the country was fraught with difficulties, not only in putting it into practice but in what might follow.

I felt depressed after van der Delft's visit. But I need not have worried about the proposed marriage. It was merely a proposition put forward by the Emperor and the Portuguese were as lukewarm about it as I was.

Dom Luiz gracefully extricated himself by stating that he could not agree to the marriage until there was a religious change in England, which, of course, meant that the Council refused to go further. In any case, I should have needed a dowry, and I understood the exchequer was extremely impoverished so the marriage would have been ruled out on that aspect alone.

Christmas had come. I had spent mine in retirement, pleading illness. It was a good excuse. I had had many illnesses and people believed I was not strong. Edward was not in good health either; the only one of my father's children who seemed to have escaped the weakness was Elizabeth.

I was still in a terrible state of disquiet, wondering what schemes were being concocted against me. The situation had changed little. Elizabeth was still at Court, being treated, some said, like the heiress presumptive. I might not have existed.

My Comptroller of the Household, Sir Robert Rochester, came to me one day and told me he had disquietening news.

I waited in some dismay for his revelation.

“Of course, it is only gossip, Princess, but these things sometimes hold a few grains of truth. It is said that there are changes to be made in your household and that its members are now to be prevented from hearing Mass.”

“You mean some of the members of my household…”

“No, my lady Princess, you too.”

I said, “I think I must see the ambassador without delay.”

Van der Delft arrived and I told him what I had heard. He, too, had heard the rumor and had already imparted it to the Emperor.

He had already received the Emperor's reply and was preparing to come to me when my message had arrived.

“The Emperor,” he said, “is considering the escape.”

My spirits rose. I had to face the danger of leaving England, but when one has lived in fear of death for many months, action is desirable.

Van der Delft said we should need the cooperation of people whom we could trust. I understood that. I told him that Sir Robert Rochester had always been a good friend to me, that he was a staunch Catholic and I would trust him with my life.

Van der Delft had the same opinion of Sir Robert, and we called him in to tell him of the plan.

He said he had feared for my safety for some time and was glad that I was to be taken away. He would do anything he could to help. He had a friend who had a boat. The boat could sail up the River Blackwater as far as Malden, which was close by Woodham Water, the house in which I was at this time staying. The boat could carry me out to a Flemish ship which would be waiting at sea.

“Can we trust this man?” asked Van der Delft.

“Yes. And he would not know it was the Princess he was taking. He would just see a figure in a concealing cloak. I would imply to him that I am the one who is fleeing the country.”

Van der Delft continued to look very worried. I think he felt that the project went beyond the duties expected of an ambassador. He was in poor health, and I am sure he would have given a great deal not to be involved in such an adventure.

I wondered how my staunch old Chapuys would have reacted. With a little more enthusiasm, I should imagine.

I believe that in his heart he was uneasy because of the Emperor's reluctance. My cousin had agreed to the project only as a last resort. The plan was full of weaknesses as far as he was concerned and I am sure it was only because he felt my life to be in danger that he agreed to it. After all, I should be out of the country at the crucial moment; but it was no use having me in the country… dead. I supposed the Emperor thought this was the lesser of two evils and that was the sole reason why he agreed to it.

Van der Delft told me that he would write to the Emperor telling him of Rochester's suggestion, and when he had his master's approval, the plan would be put into action.

Shortly afterward I received a further communication from van der Delft. He was being recalled and in his place would be Jehan Scheyfve. I was horrified. To exchange ambassadors in the middle of such a project seemed extraordinary to me. I began to suspect that van der Delft had asked for the exchange.

He told me that Scheyfve would shortly be calling on me, which I presumed meant that he himself was saying goodbye.

Robert Rochester came to me with an alarming piece of news. Summer was coming on, and it was in summer that tempers ran high and people's grievances were uppermost in their minds. The Council did not want a repeat of rebellions, so they were making a careful watch of the roads this summer, and people who might not be about their ordinary business would be stopped and questioned. It was the duty of every householder to take part in this watch; any who did not do so might find himself in trouble with the Council. It was for the protection of all, and they must do their duty.

“It means,” said Rochester, “that the roads will be watched and, if you are seen riding to Malden, which you almost certainly would be, the alarm would be given. Moreover, this friend of mine has taken alarm and will not be involved in this.”

I was in a quandary. Van der Delft, who had been working on the plan, was now going, and this new man was in his place. What did he know of it? I wondered.

I sent an urgent message to van der Delft. He must come and say goodbye to me…in person, I insisted.

I hoped he would understand by the wording of my message that it was imperative that I see him.

When he arrived, I was appalled by his appearance. The man looked really ill, and he was decidedly worried. I told him Rochester's news without delay.

“Then,” he said, “we have to plan again.”

“But you are going away.”

He was silent and I went on, “What of this new man?”

“It has been decided that Scheyfve should know nothing of the plan.”

“But you will not be here… and if this man knows nothing of it… what can we do?”

“Scheyfve cannot know of this. Imagine what would happen. Suppose the plot failed and he were involved… and if it succeeds and it were known that he was aware of it…he would be discredited.”

“Is that why you are being withdrawn?”

“It is that… and for reasons of health.”

I felt bewildered and very much alone. I could see that no one wished to be involved in my dangerous existence.

I was wrong. Van der Delft was a good man; he was genuinely sorry for me, and he was going to do everything he could to help.

He said to me, “If this plan is undertaken, it must succeed.”

“How can we be sure that it will?”

“We must not attempt it until we are sure.”

“I will trust in God,” I said.

He lifted his shoulders. He looked so terribly ill, poor man. I knew his gout was very painful. But still he wanted to help. He had a good secretary whom he could trust, a certain Jean Dubois; and his idea was that, disguised as a merchant, Dubois should come in a ship bringing grain for the household.

That would not be considered unusual, for grain was now and then brought to the household. When the grain was delivered, I should be smuggled out. We should be away before I was missed, and I should very soon be in Flushing.

I said, “Will you come too, Ambassador?”

He looked helpless.

“You must come,” I said. “I shall need you.”

“Dubois is a trusty servant.”

“But you must come. I must have your promise.”

He smiled at me almost tenderly. “I give it,” he said. “I shall come as a grain merchant, and we shall have you out of harm's way … in no time at all.”


* * *

I BEGAN TO WONDER if everything must go wrong for me.