Her Majesty’s Secret Service

024. Political Marriage

This was not her first progress. She had joined her father, Henry VIII, on several of his progresses.

But the cheers for a princess and the cheers for a king were markedly different.

The peasants of England loved their king.

Long ago, during the reign of Richard II of the Plantagenet dynasty, it was his voice that quelled the peasant revolt that had engulfed London, saying, “I am your king.”

It was the king’s voice that had broken the fierce momentum of the rioters who seemed ready to burn London to the ground.

Although such precedents existed, Mary, having heard the peasants’ cheers throughout the progress, had no doubt that they loved and respected her. This was one of the reasons she readily agreed to Marco’s request.

Of course, the main reason was that she had ‘noiselessly’ seized the earl’s estate.

Regardless of the reason, leading soldiers to the fields of Dartford for the harvest at Marco’s request, Mary once again received the awe-filled cheers of the peasants.

In the midst of this, she had asked Logan, who accompanied her, “Have you ever seen such a king?” surely because she wanted to boast about this feeling to someone.

However, contrary to Mary’s expectations, what came from Logan’s mouth was not a cheer but a serious answer.

“A king working the fields himself? I had never thought of such a thing. But why would a king work the fields…?”

She could not understand the reason.

In Mary’s understanding, there were set roles for the king, the nobility, and the peasants.

The role of a king was to govern the country, not to work the fields.

“Why does the king take the peasants’ work?” Logan replied that one must know them to govern them.

His answer was a great shock to Mary.

“Indeed, that makes sense. The work of the king and the nobility is not the same; it is to govern. So, the king governs the nobility. But why try to govern the peasants without knowing their work? Yes, I must learn the work of the peasants now.”

Mary, with that thought, commanded a soldier busy with the harvest to hand her a sickle. And she began to reap the wheat herself.

* * *

Soldiers and peasants alike, including myself, watched this scene unfold.

The soldiers, who had been sending resentful glances at the queen for ordering the harvest, now looked on in surprise, and the peasants, who had been cheering for the queen since her arrival, were nearly fainting with excitement.

“Your… Your Majesty, such rough work should be left to us…”

George was the first to regain his composure amidst the frozen crowd and mustered the courage to address the queen. Though he stuttered, his eyes were filled with respect and awe for the queen.

“It is done. As one who governs you, I need to understand your work. Profit… The wheat was reaping well until just now, why won’t it cut properly when I hold the sickle!”

“Your Majesty, it’s dangerous! You shouldn’t hold the sickle like that. You might get hurt!”

A commotion ensued. George, seeing the queen nearly cut herself with the sickle due to improper use, ran over in alarm.

By the time the queen had learned to use the sickle and was reaping the wheat smoothly, everyone who had looked at her strangely now gazed upon her with reverence.

With the queen herself harvesting, the soldiers who had been lazily moving about began to work briskly.

Perhaps thanks to this, the harvest was completed before sunset.

Though much wheat remained, it was impossible to harvest the entire vast field in one day.

“Have I been of some help to you? With so much left, I am truly concerned. I am to return to London today.”

“Yes. Thanks to Your Majesty’s mercy, we have harvested twice as much wheat as we would have in a day. We were worried that we wouldn’t be able to harvest in time because of the wickedness of those merchants, but now we have no worries. Having gathered this much today, we should be fine for the year if we continue as usual.”

Before long, George, who had been lecturing the queen on farming, was by her side.

The queen nodded in satisfaction at George’s response. As the harvest work roughly concluded, cheers praising the queen once again filled the air.

“Long live the Queen!”

“Has there ever been a king like Queen Mary? No king has been like her!”

“Long live Queen Mary! Long live Mary Tudor, Queen of England!!”

The queen, amidst the cheers, wore a bright smile never seen before.

A genuine smile, born from the heart.

“What’s the hurry? Is the harvest already over?”

Amidst the ongoing cheers, a husky female voice was heard.

The peasant women, who had vanished during the harvest, returned. The one in the lead carried a pot, while those following held various jars and sacks.

“Hm? Why have you brought those?”

The queen showed curiosity towards the items the women carried.

The woman with the pot, startled by the queen’s address, quickly regained her composure.

“How often will we have the chance to see Your Majesty? Besides, since you’ve helped with the harvest… we’ve brought the best we have to offer. It’s regrettable that this is all we can give.”

Inspecting the jars and sacks revealed grains and all sorts of vegetables, likely provisions for the winter.

And in a small jar was oil, which by the scent, was unmistakably olive oil.

“I appreciate your sentiment. But I will only accept your goodwill. If I were to take these for myself and my soldiers, what would you have left to survive the winter?”

“Your Majesty…”

The peasants, including the women, were too moved by the queen’s words to speak.

Unlike them, the queen surveyed the humbled peasants and then spoke.

“I’ve heard rumors that the peasants of Dartford are not Catholics but Anglicans. Seeing you in person, I realize those rumors were wrong. Meeting you must also be God’s will. I will not forget your loyalty.”

Just as the peasants, faces full of smiles, were about to cheer again, the queen’s praise of their loyalty was interrupted.

“Eh? But I am an Anglican?”

From the mouth of a somewhat simple-looking peasant came the words that chilled the previously warm atmosphere.

* * *

On her return journey to London, Mary’s heart was a tangle of complexities.

Until now, she had thought the Anglican heretics would not hold her in esteem. Just as she despised them, naturally, they would not regard her as their queen.

She had been wrong. It wasn’t that the Anglicans didn’t respect her.

‘Have I been mistaken all this time?’

Harvesting alongside the peasants, she glimpsed their true hearts.

They were simply thankful for each day’s bread and breath. Whether Catholic or Anglican, their treatment of her was the same. All revered and loved Mary.

Even the last man, who carelessly declared his Anglican faith, had cheered for her just like the others.

The only thing that set him apart from the rest was his allegiance to the Anglican Church.

In truth, after her coronation, Mary had planned to oppress the Anglicans thoroughly, whether they recognized her as the supreme head of the Church or not.

If they accepted the royal supremacy and acknowledged Mary as the head of the Church, she would convert them over time; if they refused, she intended to burn them all. For heretics, there was no fitting death but the flame.

Until now, she had viewed the Anglicans as defilers of the kingdom. Indeed, they had never shown her proper loyalty.

If the Anglican nobles she always dealt with were like this, she had thought the peasant followers would be the same.

But that wasn’t the case.

‘I must change my thinking a little. Even among the Anglicans, there are those loyal to me…’

There were heretics who were loyal to her.

Having realized this, Mary slightly altered her thoughts.

All the way back to London, she pondered how to distinguish such men.

* * *

As Mary concluded her progress and was about to return,

At the court of Charles V, King of Spain and Holy Roman Emperor, there was talk of Mary’s upcoming coronation next month.

“So the coronation gift is properly prepared, I hear. As you all know, it’s my brother’s coronation. Take special care.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.”

After receiving the report on the gift, Karl looked around at those seated before speaking.

“Then, everyone may leave. Ah! Simon Renard, you stay behind for a moment.”

Karl carefully called out Simon Renard from the nobles leaving the room. He was an ambassador of the Holy Roman Empire, a trusted confidant of Karl.

“Your Majesty, it seems you have a special command.”

“I intend to pair Felipe with Mary. It’s been quite some time since Maria passed away.”

“What? Prince Felipe? Would the prime of Prince Felipe welcome a marriage with Queen Mary, who is 11 years younger?”

“What if he dislikes it, it’s my command.”

The Felipe that Karl spoke of was one and only. His son, the Duke of Milan, the Prince of Spain who would inherit the throne.

As Simon and Karl were conversing, a handsome man with distinct features entered the room. The sharp features revealed he was the son of Charles V, and the protruding jaw indicated he was a member of the Habsburg dynasty.

“You’re late, Felipe. I’ll be brief. Go to Queen Mary’s coronation with the ambassador.”

Karl gave the order without a proper greeting to his son who had come upon command. To attend the coronation in England, just like that.

Naturally, Felipe was puzzled and questioned Karl.

“Am I to go? Isn’t Ambassador Simon enough? There’s no reason for me to personally go to such a remote island nation…”

“Now there is. Felipe, marry Mary.”

It was a bolt from the blue for Felipe.

Ambassador Simon also wore an expression of disbelief at the words from Karl.

“Your Majesty, no, Father. What nonsense is this!”

Despite Felipe’s outraged demeanor, Karl answered calmly.

“You’ve been alone for a long time, and so has Mary. She too has been unmarried for ages. Isn’t it a perfect match? Besides, the number of Protestants is increasing alarmingly. The lords in the north are turning heretic one by one. In such times, Mary becoming the Queen of England is a great fortune for us.”

“Indeed, England returning to the true faith is a blessing. But marriage? She is a woman over ten years my senior. What marriage could there be with such an old maid…!”

“The atmosphere in the lowlands is ominous. You know what that means. And not just the lowlands. Are you unaware that the French are eyeing the land of Naples? England may not be able to stab at the heart of France as in the old days, but it can certainly hold its ankle.”

“Do we really have to marry? Like in King Henry’s time, we could form an alliance…”

“Philip, have you forgotten our motto? Let Mary bear a child. Without shedding a drop of blood, we could have England. As our ancestors did.”

The argument between Charles, insisting on marriage, and Philip, stubbornly refusing, showed no sign of ending.

However, under the persistent persuasion of the aged Charles, Philip had no choice but to step back.

“Fine. My decision is not important, is it? Do as you please. But I will not attend the coronation. That should be acceptable, right?!”

“That’s fine. Do as you wish.”

Philip left the room, shuddering at Charles’s voice. Charles’s gaze then turned to Ambassador Simon, who had been quietly observing the father and son’s quarrel.

“Simon, you saw that? Philip has agreed to the marriage. Go and tell Mary. Ask her if she has any intention of marrying my son, Philip. But make sure no one suspects a thing.”

“I will heed your words.”

Charles handed Simon a letter. Simon took the letter and left the room.

Three days after the argument, a Spanish delegation set sail from the port of Bilbao to London, with Charles V’s secret letter hidden in Ambassador Simon’s possession.

Footnotes:

From noble mtl dot come

* During the reign of Richard II, there was a peasant revolt tangled with various issues, known as the ‘Wat Tyler’s Rebellion’. The rebellion was so intense that the king had to negotiate in person.

When Wat Tyler, who went to negotiate, was killed, the enraged peasants were about to attack King Richard’s entourage. King Richard stepped forward and exclaimed, “I am your king. Would you kill your king?” and the peasants withdrew on their own.

* Mary I’s mother was ‘Catherine of Aragon’, the aunt of Charles I of Spain, who was also the Holy Roman Emperor.

* The motto of Charles V’s family, the Habsburgs, was “Let others wage war. You, happy Austria, marry.” The Habsburg family was interrelated with most of the royal houses of Europe.