Free The Men Who Would Be King by Josephine Ross

compellingly argued, by marrying an Englishman she might have become the most fortunate princess in the world, committed to neither of the great rival houses of Europe, and therefore continually sought in friendship by both. The empire and France were then at war, and though the marriage treaty might provide clauses to safeguard England from becoming involved in imperial wars, King Henry II of France pointed out to Mary’s ambassador, in a long and gloomy interview, “If the Queen shall marry with him that is my chief enemy, and even during this wartime, although I know it is not my part to appoint her where, nor with whom, nor when she shall marry, yet it must needs be a grief unto me to consider what advantage mine enemies will think thereby to have upon me.” Englishmen at the French court found, gallingly, that they were being pitied “that we shall now become subjects to Spain,” and, even more irritatingly, that the French “take it to be a great punishment that God hath sent upon us.”
    Early in January 1554 the Spanish embassy arrived to conclude the marriage treaty. They were met at the Tower wharf with a mighty salute of guns and greeted by a glittering deputation, among which Courtenay, as Earl of Devonshire, was prominent, but their retinue had had a very different reception the day before; as they rode through the streets of London they had been pelted with snowballs by jeering boys. Mary’s publicly expressed wish, that “like humble subjects, for her sake,” the people would receive Philip with “all reverence, joy, honor,” was in vain. What followed was open rebellion.
    It was very much as de Noailles had forecast, a month before, when Elizabeth left court. He had written to Henry II:
    This said Lady Elizabeth is very closely watched, for I can assure you, Sire, that greatly she desires to free herself from control; and from what I hear it only requires that my Lord Courtenay should marry her, that she should go with him to the counties of Devonshire and Cornwall . . . they could then make a strong claim to the throne, and the Emperor and the Prince of Spain would find it difficult to suppress this rising.
    His information was suspiciously accurate in that the rising did indeed begin in Devon, and its primary purpose was to put Elizabeth and Courtenay on the throne together. But though de Noailles was of course right in assuming that Elizabeth longed to be free from control, he misjudged her if he believed that she would willingly forfeit her freedom by marriage to a dissipated young man “of such a nervous and timid disposition” as Courtenay, when the throne would rightfully be hers alone if Mary were ousted.
    Courtenay was far too weak and volatile to conduct his own courtship of Elizabeth and the crown; ironically, it was upon Sir Thomas Wyatt, son of the poet who had loved Anne Boleyn, that the leadership of the armed wooing devolved. While Wyatt’s men were boldly mustering in Kent, Courtenay was saying petulantly in London that “he had been spoken to about a marriage with the Lady Elizabeth, but he would rather go back to the Tower than ally himself to her.” At Ashridge, Elizabeth was ill with anxiety. Though it was to her advantage to see Mary’s marriage, and chance of producing heirs, prevented, she had warily avoided giving any direct support to the rebels’ cause. But innocent as she was of active participation, she was at the center of the storm; if the attempt were to fail, Renard would surely have his way at last, and see her imprisoned or executed. Mary wrote her a softly menacing letter, bidding her “for the security of your person, which might chance be in some peril if any sudden tumult should arise where you now be,” to travel to court at once, but Elizabeth, sick and frightened as she was, felt safer at a distance, and sent word that she was too ill to travel. She had her house fortified, and