L ate in September 1554, Cardinal Pole was still stranded in Brussels, unable to travel to England because he had not yet received a royal summons, and prevented from entering the land of his birth uninvited because the Act of Attainder passed against him in Henry VIII's reign had not been reversed. Technically, he was still a convicted traitor under sentence of death.
Pole's mission was two-fold. His chief task was to complete the process whereby the Church of England would be reunited with that of Rome, but he had also been instructed by the Pope to work towards a reconciliation between the Habsburgs and France. Already he had sought the Emperor's co-operation in this, but all he had succeeded in doing was antagonising him. Charles, having now had first-hand experience of Pole's attempts at diplomacy, feared that he might take an inflexible view on the sensitive issue of church property and thus jeopardise the reunification of the Church, and was consequently still seeking to delay the Legate's arrival in England. At the same time, Philip, in a series of letters, was doing his best to persuade Pole to take a more pragmatic view. Neither Philip nor Charles wanted the Cardinal usurping the King's role as the Queen's chief adviser. Mary, however, had great sympathy for Pole, and pleaded his case with both her husband and her father-in-law, eventually, with the aid of Renard, wearing down their resistance to his coming to England.
On 22 October, Renard met Pole in Brussels and gave him a letter from Mary. This, and the ambassador's arguments, as well as instructions from the Pope, at last convinced the Cardinal that it would be in the interests of everyone concerned 'to abandon all church property rather than risk the shipwreck of the operation'. Acting upon Renard's advice, both Philip and Charles agreed that the Legate could now proceed to England to carry out his mission, and on 3 November the Council authorised his admission to the country. Two days later Paget and Sir Edward Hastings were sent to escort him home.
On 10 November, a proclamation was read to all Mary's subjects, requiring them to submit to the Legate's authority 'in cases of spiritual jurisdiction, for the reformation of their souls'. This prompted a new wave of anti-papist activity and a new flood of Protestant propaganda, made possible by an efficiently organised underground movement of which litde is known. Protestants were still very much a minority group, and they were perceived by the Queen and her advisers as a cancer in the body politic of the commonwealth that must be cut out lest it affect the sound members of that body.
Parliament assembled on 12 November, and was packed with members of'the wise, grave and Catholic sort', who were prepared to push through Mary's programme of religious reforms. The King and Queen, clad in matching robes of crimson edged with ermine, went in state to Westminster for the opening ceremony, Mary in an open litter 'to expose her to the public view' and Philip riding beside her. They received a warm ovation, and it was noticed that the Queen was 'in excellent health and three months with child'. Already her gowns were too tight for her. 'She is said to be very happy, and the King is also,' reported Luis Varegas, one of Philip's gendemen.
Once Parliament was in session Gardiner tried once more to introduce a bill disinheriting the Lady Elizabeth, but this was blocked by his old enemy Paget on the grounds that the birth of an heir to the Queen would soon neutralise her sister anyway, and that formally to disinherit the princess now might well have an inflammatory effect upon the people. There was talk of marrying Elizabeth to a 'safe' Spanish noble, such as the Duke of Segovia's son, or even Philip's own son, the nine-year-old Don Carlos, but it was felt that to send her to Spain with suspected heretical views would expose her to the unwelcome interest of the Inquisition, and the plan was abandoned. Paget came up with the idea of marrying Elizabeth to the Protestant Margrave of Baden, a German prince, but, again, religion was seen as a barrier to such a match.
King Philip, however, had put forward a number of suggestions as to whom the princess might marry, among them his distant cousin Emmanuel Philibert, Duke of Savoy, one of the Emperor's most highly regarded generals. When word of this reached the Duke, who was not well off, he was entranced at the prospect of securing an English princess as his bride, and arrived in England that November to 'pluck the fruit'. His surprised hosts arranged for him to be lodged in Elizabeth's London residence, Somerset House, but did little to further his suit. Savoy was disconcerted to learn that his intended bride was under house arrest at Woodstock and not allowed to receive him, and after kicking his heels in London for a month, he went home, a disappointed man.
The royal child was expected in the middle of May, and with a realistic appreciation of the possible consequences of the Queen's pregnancy, Parliament passed a Regency Act, settling the government of the realm upon King Philip in the event of Mary dying and leaving the throne to an infant heir.
On 13 November, Cardinal Pole left Brussels for England, and on the 19th a Bill for the repeal of the Act of Attainder against him was introduced into Parliament, thus heralding the completion of the Counter-Reformation in England. The Bill passed rapidly through both Houses within five days without provoking adverse comment. Pole crossed from Calais to Dover on 20 November, setting foot in his native land for the first time in twenty years; he was the first papal legate to come to England since Cardinal Campeggio had arrived in 1529 to try Henry VIII's nullity suit against Katherine of Aragon.
The Legate was received with great ceremony by a deputation of councillors, and was then conveyed by litter to Gravesend, where he boarded a barge that would take him to London. Two days after his arrival, the King and Queen went in person to Parliament to give the royal assent to the Bill reversing his attainder, so that it became law before his arrival in the capital. The next day, according to Renard, Mary felt the baby move for the first time.
On 24 November, a chilly, overcast day, Pole came up the Thames to London, where he was received with great ceremony at Whitehall Stairs by King Philip, who led him into the palace. Mary was waiting to receive him in the Long Gallery, and at the sight of her cousin she was quite overcome with emotion, afterwards declaring that at the moment she caught sight of his crucifix 'the pious child had exulted and leapt in her womb, as had the unborn John the Baptist at the greeting of Our Lady'.
Ave Maria, gratia plena, Dominus tecum, benedicta tu in mulieribus,' said the Cardinal, with a fine sense of occasion. 'It was the will of God that I should have been so long in coming. God waited until the time was ripe.'
As he spoke, the Queen sank into a low curtsy, as a sign of respect for the Church he represented, then Pole knelt to her as his sovereign lady. She and Philip helped him to rise, and she joyfully told him how her unborn child had responded to his arrival. Beaming, Pole continued to compare the Queen with the Virgin Mary, saying, 'Blessed art thou among women, and blessed be the fruit of thy womb.'
After conversing with the King and Queen for a time, the Legate was conducted across the river to Lambeth Palace, vacant since Cranmer's arrest, where he was to lodge. This confirmed the expectations of many that Mary meant him to be the next archbishop of Canterbury once Cranmer had been deprived of his see by the Pope.
On the Queen's orders, Te Deums were sung in churches in London in thanksgiving for the Legate's safe arrival in England. Then, on 28 November, a service was held in St Paul's Cathedral to give thanks for the quickening of the royal child, the text of the sermon being, 'Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found favour with God.' For the next few months, every mass that was celebrated would, by order of the Council, contain this prayer: 'Give therefore unto Thy servants, Philip our King and Mary our Queen, a male issue, which may sit in the seat of Thy kingdom. Make him in body comely and beautiful, in pregnant wit notable and excellent, in obedience like Abraham, in hospitality like Lot, in strength and valour like Samson.'
In Brussels, Charles V was happily anticipating the birth of his grandson, and appeared to Sir John Mason, the English ambassador, 'as lively as I have not of long time seen the like lustiness in him'.
'How goeth my daughter's belly forward?' Charles asked Mason.
'Sir,' the other replied, 'I have from herself nothing to say therein, for she will not confess the matter, but by others I understand, to my great joy and comfort, that her garments wax very strait.'
'I had never doubted the matter, but that God, [who] for her had wrought so many miracles, would make the same perfect by assisting of nature to His good and most desired work,' answered the Emperor. 'I warrant it shall be a man child.'
'Be it man or be it woman, welcome shall it be,' declared Mason, 'for by that shall we at the least come to some certainty to whom God shall appoint by succession the government of our estate. It maketh all good men tremble to think the Queen's Highness must die, with whom, dying without fruit, the realm were as good also to die.' - 'Doubt not God will provide both with fruit,' the Emperor assured him.
English Protestants, however, were praying, not for a male heir, but that God would 'turn the heart of Queen Mary from idolatry, or else shorten her days'.
On the same day as the service of thanksgiving in St Paul's the King and Queen went to Westminster to hear the Legate address both Houses of Parliament. Seated on twin thrones beneath a cloth of estate, they watched as Gardiner presented 'the reverend Father in God, my lord Cardinal Pole' to the Lords and Commons, saying that he had 'come from the Apostolic See in Rome upon one of the most weightiest causes that ever happened in this realm'. Pole rose from his chair near Mary, and delivered an inspiring speech in a firm, authoritative voice. He spoke of England's long tradition of devotion to the Catholic faith, of the Queen's miraculous triumph over her enemies and God's purpose in preserving her, of Philip's Christian reputation, and of his mandate from the Pope.
'My commission is not of prejudice to any person,' he reassured his audience. 'I come not to destroy but to build. I come to reconcile, not to condemn. I come not to compel, but to call again. Touching all matters of the past, they shall be as things cast into the sea of forgetfulness.' In conclusion, therefore, he asked Parliament to repeal all the Acts that remained as obstacles to reconciliation with Rome, saving only those that dealt with the redistribution of church property; in accordance with the wishes of the Pope, that would not be reclaimed.
That night, in honour of the Legate, there was a lavish masque at court depicting the feats of Hercules, followed by a tournament with canes instead of lances, arranged by the King, who - splendidly attired in silver and purple - took part and performed well; the Queen, smiling, presented the prizes. Pole reported to the Pope that the King treated his wife with the respect due from a son to his mother, but it was obvious that he found it an effort to keep up the facade he was obliged to maintain.
The next day Parliament repealed Henry VIII's Act of Supremacy and drew up a petition to the King and Queen, signed by all but two of the members of both Houses, that they, being persons unsullied by heresy or schism, would intercede with the Legate so that the realm could receive absolution for its disobedience and then be reunited with Rome. The stage was now set for the public act of reconciliation that would return England to the Roman Catholic fold.
On the afternoon of St Andrew's Day, 30 November, Gardiner led the members of both Houses of Parliament to Whitehall, where, in a great chamber lit with torches, they presented their petition to the King and Queen, saying they were 'very sorry and repentant of the schism and disobedience committed in this realm against the See Apostolic', and begging to be received 'into the bosom and unity of Christ's Church'. Then Cardinal Pole rose, and the entire company, apart from Philip and Mary, fell to their knees before him. He told them that, in the name of the Pope, he welcomed 'the return of the lost sheep', and granted absolution to the whole kingdom; which he received back into the mother Church. As he spoke, an exultant Mary wept for joy, and the Lords and Commons murmured, 'Amen! Amen!' many bursting into tears and embracing each other. Then Pole announced that, from now on, each 3 o November should be celebrated as a new holy day, the Feast of the Reconciliation.
This was the supreme moment in Mary's life, the triumph that made all her past sufferings seem worthwhile. Now her conscience was at peace: she had done what she believed God wanted her to do, and fulfilled her destiny. Yet it was Philip who had worked hard behind the scenes to bring this about, and who had ensured that her wishes were implemented by Parliament, and she was well aware that she owed a debt of gratitude to her husband: on 7 December, she told the Emperor in a letter that the reconciliation with Rome was largely due to the King.
On 2 December, after celebrating high mass in a St Paul's packed with worshippers, Gardiner preached to the people of London at Paul's Cross, on the text 'Now we must arouse ourselves from sleep.' Watching him from an open window were King Philip and Cardinal Pole, who had attended the service. Pole had conferred upon Gardiner the power to grant absolution, and was gratified to see 1500 people — the largest crowd ever recorded in St Paul's Churchyard - displaying 'great piety' by kneeling in the cold to receive it. 'A sight to see it was, and the silence was such that not a cough was heard,' wrote one Spaniard.
Pole now threw himself with a vengeance into the task of purifying the English Church, supported by the Queen and the Council, who did their best to rectify his inability to understand how twenty years of schism had changed the English people. Mary and Pole got on well, and she relied heavily upon his advice. Next to Philip, he was the man she trusted most. However, he undermined her confidence by his constant references to the unfitness of women for ruling, and he never became reconciled to the idea of church property remaining in secular hands. Thwarted over this issue, he concentrated his energies on trying to restore the Church to its pre-Reformation state. Mary supported him wholeheartedly in this, but of course in many respects it proved impossible to turn the clock back. Saints days were no longer celebrated; monasteries, chantries and shrines remained closed, although the Queen did found six new religious houses; people no longer went on pilgrimage, nor were saints' relics reintroduced into churches as objects of veneration. The Queen's objective was to restore the spiritual values of the Catholic Church, and she and Pole worked hard to create a religious climate in which these could nourish.
It was Mary's fervent desire that heresy should be entirely eradicated from her realm, and shortly before Christmas, Parliament, whose members were still fired with the spirit of reconciliation, prepared to carry out her wishes. Wyatt's rebellion had left the government with a conviction that all heretics were would-be traitors and that heresy must therefore be eliminated in the interests of state security. The Queen wanted the heresy laws passed by Richard II, Henry IV and Henry V in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries revived, and Pole, Philip and Gardiner supported her in this. Gardiner wanted to make an example of the heretics to deter others from adopting their beliefs; Philip had been an indefatigable champion of the Inquisition back in Spain, had presided over the mass executions known as Acts of Faith, and detested heresy in any form; Pole wanted it rooted out so that his task of reforming the Church was made easier.
On 18 December, 'An Act for the Renewing of Three Statutes made for the Punishment of Heresies' became law just six days after its introduction. This gave the bishops, who were in favour of the Act being passed, the power to investigate cases of suspected heresy, and provided for the Church to hand over those found guilty to the secular authorities for burning at the stake. Each execution was to be authorised by the Queen's writ. The property of a convicted heretic would then automatically revert to the Crown.
The responsibility for the persecution that followed the passing of this legislation must be laid fairly and squarely at Mary's door. As queen, she was the person with the ultimate power to sanction the burnings that took place. Most of her advisers, including Philip and Gardiner, urged her to proceed with caution; in fact Gardiner, whom most Protestants blamed for the persecution, did not condemn a single heretic in his diocese, and soon grew alarmed at the numbers being burned elsewhere. He had anticipated that a few executions would suffice to bring the people to their senses, and when he realised that this was not having the desired result he tried to call a halt, although by then it was too late.
Mary was not at heart a cruel person; many sources testify to her kindness and compassion. Yet she believed that it was her Christian duty, as sovereign, to make the heretics suffer a foretaste of hell-fire in this world, so that at the last they would repent and be saved. She also saw it as her duty to punish those who had sinned most dreadfully against God and His laws. If she failed in that duty, she would surely incur the wrath and displeasure of the Almighty, who had so far shown her nothing but favour. Like Gardiner, she was convinced that the burnings would act as a deterrent to others. She therefore insisted that the new Act be implemented with due rigour, and issued many directives to the authorities concerned, especially in London, where Protestantism had taken root more deeply than elsewhere, urging them to be diligent in seeking out and punishing heresy, and commanding, 'Touching punishment of heretics, methinketh it ought to be done without rashness, not leaving in the meanwhile to do justice to such as by learning would seem to deceive the simple. Especially within London I wish none to be burned without some of the Council's presence, and both there and everywhere good sermons at the same.'
She would not show her customary mercy to those guilty of crimes against God, and there is not a single instance on record of her extending clemency to a heretic. Nor would she permit others, Pole included, to show lenience.
The church courts that condemned heretics came under the jurisdiction of Cardinal Pole, but he was not as zealous as Mary, and John Foxe states that he preferred disinterring and burning dead heretics to consigning living ones to the flames. There were indeed bishops and other church officers whose eagerness to punish offenders made them feared and loathed, but none, not even the notorious Bishop Bonner of London, were influential at court. In fact, Mary reproved Bonner for being tardy about bringing heretics to justice, and rebuked the Sheriff of Hampshire for sparing a heretic who had recanted as soon as he felt the heat of the fire.
The only person in the kingdom who had the authority to stop the burnings was the Queen, but she never wavered in her resolve. It seems she was sustained in her convictions by a group of Spanish clergy who came to England in Philip's retinue. These included three Dominican friars, whose Order had been famous for its efficiency in suppressing heresy since the thirteenth century. One, Bartolomeo Carranza, became the Queen's confessor. Another, Alfonso de Castro, Bishop of Cuenca, had written several books on the persecution of heretics and was considered an authority on the subject. It was he who urged King Philip, who was concerned about the effect of the burnings on his reputation in England, to be more zealous in persecuting the English heretics. But Mary needed little persuasion: she saw her duty clear, and carried it out with chilling single-mindedness.
The success of her Counter-Reformation, together with her advancing pregnancy, meant that the Christmas of 1554 was one of the happiest of Mary's life. There were splendid celebrations at court, culminating in a moving service in the Chapel Royal, in which the King's choristers joined the Queen's to create an angelic sound. And in honour of the coming heir, the great Thomas Tallis composed a new mass entitled 'Unto us a child is born', which may have been sung on this occasion.
By January, however, the discomforts of her condition and her fear of a new uprising on behalf of Elizabeth and Courtenay, fuelled by the discovery of an obscure plot to assassinate the King and Queen, had undermined Mary's health and spirits. She was so ill that she was unable to write more than a brief note in response to one of the Emperor's solicitous letters. What made matters worse was Philip's obvious restlessness. He had done his duty in England and got the Queen with child, and now he was anxious to leave for the Low Countries to fight the French. In a letter to his father written at this time he confided, 'I must confess that for some years past I have been desirous of leading a campaign, and I would like it to be as soon as possible. It will be my first campaign, my first opportunity of acquiring or losing prestige; all eyes will be fixed on me.' He certainly had no intention of delaying his departure until after the birth of his child, and made no secret of the fact.
Mary was devastated, and her distress served only to undermine her health further. Because of her age and medical history, she feared that the birth would be a difficult and dangerous one, and needed the reassurance that her husband would be near at hand. Whenever he implied that his father needed him more than she did, he provoked floods of tears and emotional scenes, which placed the royal marriage under some strain. By the beginning of February Mary was 'very melancholy' and her councillors feared she might die in childbirth, if not before. It was then that Renard took it upon himself to write an admonitory letter to the King, warning him what could happen if he left England now.
Your Highness, it is true, might wish that Her Majesty was more agreeable, but on the other hand she is infinitely virtuous. Your Highness, like a magnanimous prince, must remember her condition, and exert yourself to assist her. Although it might be wished that the Queen were more gracious, your own virtue, goodness and intelligence leave nothing to be desired.
While Philip agonised over where his loyalties lay, the burnings began.
On 28 January, a commission headed by Gardiner condemned five persons to death for heresy, among them John Hooper, Bishop of Gloucester, and John Rogers, prebendary of St Paul's and a married priest. Rogers was the first victim of the Marian persecution. He was burned on 4 February 15 5 5 at Smith/laid in London, in the midst of an angry protest by the watching crowd, who were incensed that Gardiner had forbidden the condemned man to say goodbye to his wife and children.
Hooper suffered next, on 9 February, in his own diocese of Gloucester. The Queen, signing the writ for his execution, had ordered him not to address the spectators in case he tried to portray himself as a martyr. His death was terrible: the gunpowder bag, which was sometimes hung around the necks of heretics to ensure a speedy end, did not explode and he burned for three-quarters of an hour, pitifully begging the crowd to fan the flames in order to end his agony. In March five Protestants went to the stake in London and one, a priest, in Colchester. All died bravely.
Immediately there was a public outcry, so great that Renard feared another uprising. Far from converting the Protestants to the Roman Faith, the burnings had the effect of hardening their resolve and inflaming their anger against the Queen. The bravery of the men who had died so painfully was an inspiration to many; already they were regarded as martyrs with beliefs worth dying for. There was no shortage of men and women ready to speak out against the persecution, and the Acts of the Privy Council records that unprecedented numbers were set in the pillory that spring for uttering 'horrible lies and seditious words of the Queen's Majesty and her Council'.
But the burnings went on. Over the next few years around 240 men and 60 women died at the stake. Most were popular preachers, artisans, farm labourers or poor, ignorant folk who could not recite the Lord's Prayer or did not know what the Sacraments were, and were apprehended by over-zealous parish priests; the majority came from the south and east. Some were blind or disabled; one woman, Perotine Massey of Guernsey, was pregnant. Her baby was born as she was burning, and cast back into the flames by the executioner. The 'better sort' of heretics had already escaped abroad. Compared with the thousands who were martyred on the Continent for their faith, the Marian persecution was on a very small scale, but it was unprecedented in England and therefore sufficient to inspire horror and revulsion in most people. Frequently, the executions were bungled or mismanaged by incompetent executioners, or the faggots were damp, causing the victim unnecessarily prolonged suffering. Before long, the Council ordered that there should be more guards present in order to stop the onlookers from 'comforting, aiding or praising the offender'.
As soon as the burnings began, King Philip ordered his confessor, Alfonso de Castro, to preach a sermon at court against them, hoping thereby to deflect public censure from himself. But this did not stop most people from concluding that it was Philip and his Spaniards who had made the Queen consent to this cruel legislation, though in fact it was Philip who tried constantly to curb the Queen's religious zeal.
Gardiner was soon sickened by the burnings, and when he saw that they were producing the opposite effect to that intended, he tried to persuade the Queen to adopt other methods of punishment. Cruelty, he protested, served no useful purpose. But Pole, Paget and other councillors accused him of being 'too mild and gentle' towards the heretics, who were after all guilty of a 'great atrocity' against God. Disillusioned and in failing health, Gardiner realised there was little he could do to stem the tide of persecution. The irony was that his enemies were calling him a 'man of blood' in the belief that it was he who had instigated it.
Mary had come to the throne on a tide of popularity, but the burnings cost her that and the love of many of her subjects. She was now reviled by Protestants as the cruel persecutor of martyrs, and although the epithet 'Bloody Mary' was not invented until the seventeenth century, it was not unjustified. For centuries afterwards Catholicism and persecution would be irredeemably linked in the minds of the English people, and this was certainly her doing. Many now prayed that the Queen's pregnancy would come to a calamitous end, and looked to the Lady Elizabeth to be their deliverer. Indeed, if anyone could have been said to benefit from the persecution, it was Elizabeth, who now found herself more popular than ever.
This was, in every respect, a difficult time for Mary. Throughout the January of 15 5 5 de Noailles's brother Francois was plotting to marry Elizabeth to Courtenay. This came to light in February, when a plan to proclaim Courtenay as Edward VII at Fotheringhay was revealed. On 13 March, Renard commented that the kingdom would 'never be at peace till the Elizabeth and Devon matter is settled'.
Whilst Mary fretted over that, preparations for her confinement, now just two months away, were under way. Yet even this was marred by persistent rumours that she was not pregnant at all but planning to pass off a base-born baby as her heir. Mrs Alice Perwick, the wife of a London merchant, was brought before the justices in March for saying 'The Queen's Grace is not with child, and another lady should be with child, and that lady's child should be named the Queen's child.' It was also being said that Edward VI was not dead at all, but would soon return to depose his sister. Mary's repeated denials of this made little difference, for this particular rumour persisted for years.
Then, in March, Pope Julius died. His successor, Marcellus II, died after three weeks in office, to be succeeded by Paul IV, a seventy-five-year-old alcoholic who had long been antagonistic towards the Habsburgs and who professed a deep loathing of all Spaniards. This was a terrible blow to Philip, who perceived at once that all the advantages he had gained by bringing about the reconciliation with Rome were irrevocably lost. To begin with, however, the new pope proceeded carefully, confirming Cardinal Pole in his mission as Legate. Yet Pole would never enjoy with Paul the friendly rapport he had had with Julius, and from 1555 relations between the English Church and the papacy steadily deteriorated.
By early March, Philip had reluctantly told Mary that he would remain in England until after their child was born. Instead of satisfying his need for military glory abroad, he devoted himself to planning a series of tournaments at court, but Mary did not attend them, not only because of her pregnancy, but also - according to the Venetian ambassador - because she could not bear to watch her husband risking his life by attempting daring exploits in the lists.
To allay her other fears, Philip suggested that Elizabeth and Courtenay be sent abroad, to places where they could be kept under supervision, the former to Brussels and the latter to Rome. The Queen liked the idea, but the Council warned her that exiling Elizabeth now, at such a sensitive time, might provoke another rebellion, and she was forced to abandon it. Indeed, there was a small, easily-quelled rising in Elizabeth's favour that month, when a group of rebels in Hampshire, claiming to believe the rumour that the Queen was planning to foist a changeling on the realm, attempted to persuade the local countrymen to rise against her and set her sister on the throne.
Again, Gardiner urged that Elizabeth be disinherited, but Philip realised that if Mary died in childbirth, and her child with her, Henry II of France would then press the claim of his daughter-in-law, Mary, Queen of Scots, to the English throne, which was the last thing he and the Emperor wanted. If Mary Stuart succeeded then England would become a French dominion and the Habsburgs would lose all the strategic advantages they had gained by the English alliance. In the middle of April Renard submitted a detailed memorandum on the English succession to Philip, which accurately described the problems that could arise if the Queen did not survive childbirth:
Supposing the Queen is not with child, or dies without issue, there will certainly be strife and the heretics will espouse the cause of the Lady Elizabeth. If Elizabeth is married to an Englishman, she will prevail upon her husband to adopt the new religion, even if he is a Catholic. If a foreign husband is found for her, it will be necessary to make sure that he is constant and faithful to Your Majesty. There would seem to be no alliance more advantageous for her than with the Duke of Savoy.
The ambassador urged the King to see Elizabeth before he left for the Low Countries and promise to 'do what is suitable for her' in return for her good behaviour. Naturally, Philip was curious to meet his sister-in-law, who had been the cause of so much controversy since he had become involved in English affairs.
Philip therefore urged that a decision on Elizabeth's future be deferred until after the Queen's confinement, and advocated bringing her to court so that he could keep an eye on her until then. It also occurred to him that it would be wise to establish a good working relationship with her in case she did become queen. If she looked upon him with gratitude as the person who had rescued her from a rigorous confinement, then he might obtain her good will and so preserve the Anglo-Spanish alliance. Reports from Bedingfield confirmed that the princess was behaving in every respect like a good Catholic, and the King entertained hopes that her conversion might be more than mere expediency. Yet even as a Protestant, she was infinitely preferable to the Catholic Mary Stuart when it came to the question of who should succeed if Mary died childless.
When Philip suggested to his wife that Elizabeth be brought to court, Mary agreed without protest, knowing that this would prevent the princess from inciting a rebellion against him if she herself died in childbed.
One problem could be effectively disposed of: that of Courtenay. On 29 April, at Philip's instigation, 'the last sprig of the White Rose' was issued with a pardon, released from Fotheringhay and sent on a diplomatic mission to the Imperial court at Brussels, where he would be under the supervision of Charles V. 'One of the embarrassments we have been apprehending is out of the way,' observed Renard, but Courtenay had hopes of being summoned home before long, and left his house fully furnished against his return. He suffered miseries of homesickness during his exile, which brought added suffering to his sick mother, Lady Exeter, who wrote: 'If wishing might take place, you should be there.' She promised him that, although 'my years require rest', she would return to her post at court 'if my waiting [on the Queen] can do you good'. But the summons that Courtenay prayed daily for never came.