I told Kat she was too gullible but I did feel that luck played a great part in survival. At least it had in mine, and I wanted to be sure that I did not choose an unlucky day for the Coronation.
Kat, as a firm believer in fate, was an enthusiastic admirer of Dr Dee, and I did not need much persuasion to share her enthusiasm. It is all very well for those who have nothing to lose to laugh at soothsayers, but for a young woman in my position no possibility must be rejected. Therefore I agreed to see Dr Dee.
He was in his early thirties, a startling-looking man with rather wild eyes which seemed to be looking at something which others could not see, and this inspired belief in him. He had passed through dangerous times, having come within hours of losing his life. He had been suspected of uttering words which could be said to be against Queen Mary, and accused of conspiring to kill her either through magic or poison.
All the man had said was that her health was failing, and any who saw her must have known that. He had been in the Tower about the same time as I had and had shared a cell with a certain Barthlet Green who was one of those who had been burned at the stake for his religious opinions. The ever zealous Bonner therefore suspected Dr Dee of heresy, but the doctor was too clever for his questioners, and he came out of his ordeal a free man.
The fact that he had been imprisoned on suspicion of attempting to murder Mary meant that he was certain to be one of my supporters. I was all eagerness to consult him and, when the Earl of Pembroke presented him to me and Lord Robert recommended him, I was won over completely. He should have a place in my household, I said. It would be an excellent idea to have an astrologer on hand to advise on important occasions.
My Master of Horse would naturally be in charge of all ceremonies and that meant the Coronation; so Robert consulted with Dr Dee who, after spending some time in meditation, came up with the date of Sunday the fifteenth of January as the day best suited to this auspicious occasion.
“January the fifteenth let it be,” I said; and preparations were set in motion.
ALL WAS GOING WELL, but I had a reminder that I must continue to act with caution. To do what I wanted to do, to make drastic changes, could bring me to trouble. The Catholic priesthood was strong and they had wielded great power over Mary, with Philip of Spain behind them assuring them of success in foisting their religion on the people. They had been about to set up the Inquisition in the country and had indeed returned England in many ways to Rome.
I was going to change that. No foreign power would rule my country; but caution was needed. They were too strong, these priests. They were sure of themselves and I had to show them who was their mistress—but calmly, gradually.
This was brought home to me at my sister's funeral when the sermon was preached by Dr White, Bishop of Winchester. It was fortunate that he spoke in Latin, which so few people could understand. But I understood perfectly, and I did not like what I heard.
He broke into eulogies of the late Queen. He reminded the people that she had had the pious humility to renounce the Crown's supremacy over the Church and bring it back to the domination of Rome where it belonged. St Paul, he said, had forbidden women to speak in church, and it was not fitting for the Church to have a dumb head.
I was growing more and more incensed every moment. How dared he talk thus, particularly when I was urging the Council to proclaim me Head of the Church! How dared he speak disparagingly of my sex when I intended to show the people that they would prosper under a woman as never before!
He then enlarged upon Mary's sufferings; how patiently she had borne her afflictions; how blessed was England to have been given even briefly the devotion of such a good religious woman.
I was watching the congregation. Were they too thinking of great men who had burned at the stake—as I was? Cranmer, Ridley and the rest. Surely they must.
My fury reached its height when he began to speak of me.
Queen Mary's sister was now on the throne. She was a lady of great worth also and they must needs obey her. Then he committed the final insult by referring to me as a “live dog” and Mary “a dead lion”; and implying that they must needs do with what they had, as I was alive and Mary dead.
This was too much. If the people understood what he was saying, harm could be done to me. Fortunately there were few as well versed in the Latin tongue as I, and although the congregation knew he was praising Mary they did not realize that he was denigrating me.
I must curb my anger, but such a man must not be free to speak again as he did. He had flung down the gauntlet. Very well.
As he left the pulpit, I rose and cried to my guards: “Arrest that man.”
They hastened to do my bidding and the Bishop of Winchester and I faced each other. I thought he looked pleased and I guessed he was one of those men who court martyrdom. They were the dangerous ones—religious fanatics, sure of their place in Heaven and certain that those who did not agree entirely with them were destined for Hell—they were the men to be wary of.
“Your Majesty,” he said as the guards seized him, “I must warn you that if you attempt to turn from Rome you will be excommunicated.”
I retorted: “Take him to the Tower.”
And they did so.
When I returned to the privacy of my apartments, I sent for Cecil. He had heard of the arrest of Dr White and knew that it was this matter which I wanted to discuss with him.
I told him everything the man had said. “By great good fortune in Latin,” I told him. “But he cannot be allowed to preach against me in such a manner.”
Cecil agreed but said: “We must go cautiously with regard to Winchester. Let him cool in prison. Your father would have had his head. I am sure you will see the virtue in greater caution.”
I saw at once. Indeed Cecil was voicing my opinion and, as usual, we were in agreement.
But it was a lesson learned. I must act cautiously and especially in this matter of religion.
I TOOK A tentative step forward on the morning of Christmas Day. I was in the chapel where the service was being conducted in the way it had been during Mary's reign and the Bishop of Carlisle was at the altar about to officiate at High Mass when I rose and, with my ladies, left the chapel.
It was a carefully calculated action. What I had done would soon be known throughout the capital and the country no doubt, and I would wait to see what the people thought of it. If they were displeased, I could easily make excuses; I had felt unwell—or something such. Illness had stood me in good stead in the past, so why not now? If there was approval I should know how to act.
I was left in no doubt of the people's feelings. They were joyful. I then decided to take another step. Services in my chapel and all over the country should be conducted in English.
I was concerned with my coronation and I was determined to make it a day which all my subjects would remember with joy.
On the twelfth of January I went from the Palace of Westminster to the Tower, for an English monarch must set out from that fortress for the Coronation, and the previous day's journey is almost as ceremonious as the day of coronation itself.
I sailed in my state barge and all along the river were craft of every description with flowing banners of welcome and sweet music. The Lord Mayor's barge was fitted with artillery, which was fired off at intervals. There was wild cheering everywhere and nothing could have gratified me more. I landed at the Tower and, as always, I must think of that other landing at the Traitor's Gate.