Daughter of Time

August 1556

Hampton Court

It would be far pleasanter for me to thank Your Majesty for sending me back the King, my Lord, and good husband than to dispatch an emissary to Flanders. However, as Your Majesty has been pleased to break your promise to me in this, regarding the return of the King my husband, I must, therefore, be satisfied, although to my unspeakable regret.
My purpose in writing is to ask Your Majesty how much longer His Highness might be required to be absent from our kingdom. For as Your Majesty will recall from my previous letter last August, there is nothing that gives me greater pleasure than the company of the King and nothing that distresses me more than his continued absence upon Your Majesty's business.

Without a second thought, I sign my letter to the Emperor, fold it, seal it, and hand it to Jane Dormer to pass onto a messenger. I feel no hesitation in sending such a reproving communication. I have not heard from the Emperor since January, eight whole months ago when wrote to announce that along with the Lordship of the Netherlands, which he resigned to Phillip in October of last year, he had also relinquished the crowns of Aragon and Castile. His Majesty congratulated me on being able to style myself the Queen of so many great crowns, and of being no less their mistress than of the crown of England. It was a small comfort, to call myself Queen of England, Ireland, France, Aragon, and Castile. Though, our Lord knows I would gladly give them all up in an instant if it meant that my Phillip might be once more by my side. Now I am plunged into fresh misery. The pain of his leaving comes rushing back, as excruciating as it was on the day I stood on the platform at Greenwich, watching his ship disappear into the distance.
Yet with the sorrow also comes anger. Why would he say that he would return to me if he would not do so? Why not send a letter? I try to think of some plausible excuse that could explain his silence. Perhaps his messenger has died en route to England or his ship ran into difficulty. Perhaps not all of my messages are reaching him. Every possible scenario runs through my head at one point. But deep down, the rational part of me knows this could only excuse a few letters going missing not a year's worth.
I must accept that the most obvious answer is the most likely. He has chosen not to write. The thought vexes me so much that I can no longer stand to look upon the portrait of him that once gave me such pleasure. To look upon that handsome face, those beautiful eyes, fills me with such an overwhelming sense of sadness, thinking of the times when we were so wonderfully and blissfully happy together.

"God often sent to good women evil husbands," I lament sadly to little Jane Dormer who looks at me, perplexed as my household officers remove Phillips portrait from the council chamber. I cannot bear to lay eyes on it for a moment longer. Every time I see it I want to weep.

I summon my old supporter, the Earl of Arundel to an informal audience, lamenting the loss of my husband and delicately inquire as to whether Parliament could be persuaded to agree to grant Phillip a coronation so that he might return to me.

"Your Majesty, the terms of your marriage treaty laid out no requirements for a coronation for King Phillip," He points out.

"But if it were to bring His Majesty home? After all he has done in service to this country. Surely some way could be found?" I insist.

"I regret not." He says firmly.

As the summer draws to its close it becomes apparent that the reason for Phillips delay in returning to England is due to the rapidly deteriorating relationship between Spain and the papacy. His Holiness has sided with the French, believing that the armies of King Henry will drive my husband out of Italy. It gives me a semblance of comfort to know that his delay comes from duty rather than anything else. I plead with Phillip to show mercy, out of respect for His Holinesses position and authority. I urge Cardinal Pole to also write to him, urging him not to declare war. But it is to no avail. In the middle of September, Phillips generals invade the Papal States, sacking the towns and hanging the garrisons. If it were any other man than my husband, I would denounce him as a heathen. To invade so sacred a city without just cause. However, I know that his Holiness can have no more dutiful son than my husband and can only reason that his invasion was a last resort to quell French aggression. I hope this latest victory will signal the beginning of my husbands return to England. Yet as September rolls on, I still receive no word of when Phillip is likely to come back to me. After another long night of restless sleep, I decide to write again to the Emperor. Fearing he might have been offended by the harshness of my words in my previous letter and chastened by Phillips duty to his country, I resolve to appear more conciliatory.

My Lord and good father,

I wish to beg your Majesty pardon for my boldness in writing to you at this time and humbly to implore you, as you have always been pleased to act as a true father to me and my kingdom, to consider the miserable plight into which this country has now fallen.
I have written to the King, my husband, in detail on the subject, and I assure your Majesty that I am not moved by my personal desire for his presence. Although I confess, I do long to have him here, but by my care for this kingdom.
Unless King Phillip comes to remedy matters, not only I but also wiser persons than I fear that great danger would ensue for lack of a firm hand, and indeed we see it before our eyes even now.
My desire is that His Highness should be in the place where he may best serve God and his conscience and mine be at rest.

By the hand of Your Majesty's most humble and affectionate daughter,

Mary, Queen of England