I had achieved prosperity—as my grandfather had—by care and a lack of extravagance, except in those particulars which I considered necessary to preserve my image in my people's eyes. They knew this and one of the French emissaries had said that the people of London treated me with something like idolatry.
So now I balked at the thought of paying out so much money to that villain Morton across the Border. And his demands grew greater. He must have guessed how earnestly Burghley wanted the conclusion of this affair and for it to be carried out without leaving a stain on my character. Let Mary be brought to the block by her ungallant knights, he said. Then no one in England could be blamed and we could leave the matter to the barbarity of the Scots.
Then Morton came up with a condition which made the entire plot useless. He insisted that the execution could only take place if three thousand English soldiers under the command of the Earls of Bedford, Essex and Huntingdon were present.
When this ultimatum was delivered to us we knew that it was the end of the venture. The whole idea had been to execute her leaving me free from blame. Morton knew this. Was that why he suggested the presence of my soldiers?
“We are wasting our time,” I said. “Morton knows he has asked the impossible.”
Burghley nodded grimly. “God sent Your Majesty strength to preserve God's cause, your own life and the lives of millions of your subjects, all of which are manifestly in danger.” He added: “God be merciful to us all.”
I had to comfort Burghley. I shrugged danger aside and in my secret heart I was glad we had not been able to find those who would be ready to murder Mary Stuart.
IN SPITE OF the loathing the French Catholics aroused at this time not only in England but throughout the world, and the sure knowledge that my marriage with Alenon would be against the wishes of the people, I did keep up negotiations with Catherine de' Medici in secret.
She was an extremely clever and most devious woman and I never underestimated her for one moment. It surprised me that she should be so eager to see one of her sons take the crown of England that she still persevered in her efforts with the utmost zeal. Surely such a woman could see through my schemes. Perhaps she did. Perhaps she thought that I was as cynical as she was and cared nothing for the murdered Huguenots, not only in Paris but throughout the whole of France, for once started it seemed that the Catholics would not forgo their blood-letting.
However, La Mothe Fenelon presented himself with messages from the Queen Mother.
“Her Majesty wishes Your Majesty to know that the cure is succeeding with Monsieur le Duc and his skin is improving every day.”
He was referring to Dr Penna who had claimed he had an elixir which could in time eradicate from the skin all traces of smallpox. His services had immediately been acquired by Catherine de' Medici who must have believed that her son's appearance was one of the impediments to the marriage.
“That is indeed good news,” I said. “If it is really effective I must have the man here to see what he can do for Lady Sidney.”
La Mothe was pleased. He believed that in spite of everything I was really considering the marriage. It was amazing that he could believe that when I had hesitated before the massacre, I would now agree.
We discussed the disaster of the smallpox which seemed more prevalent than it had a short while ago.
“I suppose our little Prince must count himself lucky to have come through with his life,” I said.
“Indeed, Your Majesty, and in the case of such a charming Prince, that small disability is forgotten when one is in his presence.”
“I suppose there are other parts of his visage to take the mind off the skin,” I said tartly. I was really all eagerness to see that little Prince with his debauched eyes and a nose which some said was split in two giving him a most grotesque appearance.
Perhaps I should have been a little more sympathetic for to be attacked by the smallpox is a terrible experience; and then when, a few days later, I began to feel unwell I remembered my words to La Mothe Fenelon, especially when in a short while the spots began to appear on my face and I knew that once again I had fallen a victim to the dreaded disease.
Robert came and insisted on entering my chamber. He threw himself onto his knees and declared his undying devotion. I smiled at him and said: “Robert, go from here. I would not have your handsome face wrecked by the smallpox.”
“I am here to serve you,” he said masterfully, “and here I remain.” And for once I did not remind him that I was the Queen who must be obeyed.
The Council was in a state of panic and I guessed they were all worried about the succession—the Protestants declaring that they would never have Mary; and while all the world was watchful, Spain and France were ready to pounce.
Strangely enough I did not feel ill this time. They say that if one has had a disease once one becomes immune. One catches the disease, but it passes over lightly; and this was what it did in my case.
Before long I was well enough to rise and when I studied my face I could not find a single blemish.
Another fortunate escape!
La Mothe Fenelon came to me and I joked: “It may well be that when Monsieur le Duc comes he will be a little disappointed. Perhaps he would like to see me with just a few blemishes so that he could find me in a state not entirely dissimilar to his own.”
“Nay, Your Majesty,” he replied. “Monsieur will rejoice in the preservation of your unsurpassed beauty. Moreover Penna's medicines are having such an effect on the Duc that when you see him you will find the rumors of his disfigurement greatly exaggerated.”
“That will give me the utmost pleasure,” I replied, and I added that perhaps the Duc would like to pay a visit to the English Court. I was amused to see that La Mothe was evasive about this and I guessed it was due to the fact that he feared that if I saw the ugly little creature before a proxy marriage there would never be one in actual fact.
Shortly after he came to announce the birth of a daughter to the King of France. La Mothe was having a very uncomfortable time in England for he could not defend the action of his masters, try as he might, loyal creature that he was; and there was shock throughout the country when the news broke that two supporters of Admiral de Coligny had been executed in the Place de Gréve, and that the King, Catherine de' Medici and other members of the royal family had witnessed the execution which had taken place precisely as the Queen was giving birth to a child.
I was determined to let La Mothe know that I disapproved heartily of the callous behavior of his King and the Queen Mother. It would help me with my bargaining and dealing with the wily Catherine de' Medici, and I must not miss one advantage.
“His Majesty could not have wished more for the safe delivery of his child than I do,” I said with diplomatic exaggeration. I went on to say with even more hypocrisy that I could have wished the Queen might have given birth to a dauphin, but I was sure he was very happy with the Princess. I regretted, of course, I added, that her royal father had polluted the day by so sad a spectacle and that he had gone to see it in the Place de Gréve.
La Mothe Fenelon, struggling to retain his loyalty to a cause which he must have found abhorrent, agreed that it was a day in which happiness was mingled with evil. “My master was forced to witness the executions to follow the example of his great ancestors on such occasions,” he replied.