All through that January I was with the Court. Jane whispered to me with great delight that she thought she was pregnant, and I rejoiced with her. By the beginning of March she was sure.

The King was absolutely delighted. At last he was going to get his son. When he did, he would know that Heaven approved of everything he had done to reach that happy state.

He talked continually of his son; he would pat Jane's stomach “Good girl,” he said. “This is the first of many.”

Jane was happy and at the same time fearful. She must have been feeling what the others had in their turn.

Would she produce the all-important son? And if not, what would happen to her?

SOON AFTER CHRISTMAS Robert Aske, the leader of the Pilgrimage of Grace, had come to London to see the King. My father received him and listened carefully to his complaints. They should have consideration, he told him, and shortly he would make a visit to Yorkshire and visit the city of York, where his Queen might be crowned.

Robert Aske must have felt the visit was a great success, and he returned to his native Yorkshire. But of course the King was not going to give up the supremacy of the Church in favor of the Pope; he was not going to accept the Pope's judgement on his first marriage and declare me his legitimate daughter. I supposed he was just trying to show his benign nature to the people and hoped the revolt would simmer down.

But the people of the North were serious, and no sooner had Aske returned than a new revolt broke out. Sir Francis Bigod led this. The King marched north, and this time there was no miracle to save the rebels. They had no chance against the King's army. The leaders were caught and hanged in the cities where they had raised the revolt. Robert Aske came to London. This time he was sent to the Tower.

My father was done with peaceful negotiations. He was going to show these northerners who was their master.

Robert Aske was taken to York and hanged in chains, where his body was left for the crows and that all might see what happened to those who opposed the King's will.

The Pilgrimage of Grace was over, and the people, he hoped, had learned their lesson.

IT WAS AN ANXIOUS time for me because now I knew that every time there was an insurrection I should be in danger. There would always be a hint that the King was to be deposed, and I was the one who would be put in his place.

It was, of course, what I was working for; but it must come about in a natural manner. I was only twenty-one. Time was on my side. I felt in my heart that one day I was going to be Queen of this country and, when I was, my first mission would be to bring it back to Rome.

I was not yet ready for the task. I was too young. I had lived too far from the Court for too long. I had much to learn, and I must prepare myself. I must worship as my mother had—wholeheartedly. Religion must come first with me as it had with her; and the only reason why I could think and plan as I did, with a good conscience, was if I made it my first concern, my whole reason for living. I could believe that I had been sent on Earth for this one purpose: to bring the Church of England back to the true Roman Catholic fold.

So I could watch the decline of my father's health with mixed feelings. I was fond of him—odd as it may seem—but it is difficult to describe that unique temperament. One could hate what he did but not entirely hate him. One was warmed by his smile, though it might be fleeting; and to bask in his approval, uncertain as it was, brought a glow of happiness, a gratification, a delight that one had earned it. I cannot explain his charismatic charm; I can only think that it was that which kept men faithful to him— even those against whom he had committed the most outrageous and often barbaric acts.

With the Pilgrimage of Grace over and Jane pregnant, he was a happy man during those waiting months.

I was at odds with myself. I had become so fond of Jane. She admitted once her fear that the child might be a girl; it seemed unfair that she should suffer such anxiety over a matter in which she had no choice. Life was so unfair. If, through no fault of her own, she produced a girl, she would be despised, dubbed no better than her predecessors, and perhaps it would be the beginning of the end for her; on the other hand, if the child were a boy, she would be praised and fêted… good Queen Jane.

And my own position? As I said, I was fond of the girl. I wanted her to be happy; yet if she produced the boy, what of my hopes of achieving my mission?

It was not that I coveted the crown for myself. I wanted it for God and the true religion. It was a crusade, and I was to lead it. I was to bring this country back to the true Faith, which surely must find favor with God.

Now, long after, when I look back on all that happened, I can see why I did the things I did later. I had lived so much of my life on a precipice from which at any moment I could be hurled to disaster. That has an effect on people. Human life can seem of little value; it is the cause that is important. Yes, perhaps that is why I acted as I did. Am I trying to find excuses? Perhaps. But excuses there are, for our characters are surely formed by the events in our early years.

At this time I was fêted at Court, the dear friend of the Queen; and I had my father's favor—but how transient that favor could be everyone knew. The Pilgrimage of Grace had brought that home to me. Men's bodies were now rotting in the great cities of the North, reminding the King's subjects of what happened to them if they disobeyed him. I was his subject, and whenever there were risings of any sort, my name would be bandied about. They had known of my mother's unswerving faith, and they would believe that her daughter shared it. There would always be suspicions. I was not safe. At any moment the King's wrath could be turned on me.

I walked a dangerous path and, looking back, I see that it was even more perilous than I realized at the time.

The Pilgrimage of Grace and its outcome, the suppression of the monasteries… these matters hung over me, for I could not be free of them. In spite of the Queen's friendship and the King's newly discovered affection for his daughter, I lived in fear during those days when the Pilgrimage of Grace was remembered.

I traveled with the Court to Greenwich and back to Richmond and then to various other houses as the Court moved round for sweetening and visiting. And all the time my friendship with Jane was growing. I had not mentioned the Countess of Salisbury again, but I did talk to Jane now and then of Elizabeth; but, with the memory of the Pilgrimage of Grace still in his mind, the King was in no mood for listening to the plight of his young daughter.

The months passed. The Queen's pregnancy was becoming obvious, and never was there a more welcome sight. The King was tender toward her, certain that she bore the son he wanted. Seers prophesied the sex of the child to please him; they would have to make themselves scarce if they were proved wrong.

I was torn between my desire for Jane's happiness and my own need to accomplish my mission, for the two were incompatible. I told myself that, if it were God's will that Jane should bear a son who would be the future King and, on account of his age and mine, my plans would be frustrated, I must not complain.

I was ready and waiting if wanted. I could leave this in God's hands.

Jane was so eager that Elizabeth should be brought to Court that she plucked up courage and mentioned this to the King, and he, eager to pamper her and perhaps fearing what adverse effect there might be on her child if she were crossed, agreed that Elizabeth might come; but he did imply that he did not wish to see her.

I knew how delighted Lady Bryan would be if there was some recognition of her darling, and I wanted to take the news to them and help the child prepare. So I left the Court at the end of summer and went to Hunsdon.