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the late Princess of Wales. If I could erase the whole affair of theking’s great matter from history I would do so, but the product of my father’s liaisonwith the Boleyn woman is living testament to it. She resides at my court; aslim, elegant reminder of my past unhappiness.

I have not yetdetermined what I shall do with Elizabeth. It is as well to keep her under mywatchful eye but her presence irks me and serves as a constant reminder that Iam growing old. As the queen in waiting, Elizabeth is in her prime and aconstant reminder of my mortality.

Her existencetaunts me.

Of course, mycouncil has already begun to discuss the idea of marriage, but now that thetime has come to choose a husband I find myself reluctant. I do crave a childof my own, someone who will love me for who I am, and whom I can love in return.I need an heir, but a husband is a different matter.

I have seentoo clearly the discomforts of the marriage bed. My father’s multiple wivesbrought him little peace, and my stepmother Katherine Parr, when finally ableto wed the man she loved, soon came to regret it. If I am to marry, the man Ichoose must be devoted, but loyalty is a fluid thing and apt to change asquickly as the tide.

I would never tolerateinfidelity and it seems to me that marital faith does not really exist. I wouldalways be watching, waiting for his eye to fall on someone younger, someonefairer. My jealousy would be untenable and I think I would rather be childlessand live in peace than bear the shame of a faithless husband. But when I broachthis idea with the council, they throw up their hands in horror. It seems chastityis not a permitted state for a queen because a queen must bear an heir.

I wonder if itis usual for the royal council to be unable to agree on anything. It seems eachstep of the way I am faced with opposition – not an open fight, of course, noneof them would dare to blatantly disagree with me. They are too wary of mytemper. But I am constantly tripped by subtle argument.

I push for areturn to Rome but, although they agree to be rid of Edward’s prayer book and priestsare once more forbidden to take wives, I cannot persuade them to accept the authorityof the Pope. It has nothing to do with their faith, of course. They are notafraid of God’s wrath but of losing their lands, the fine houses they’ve builton church property. There is no way around it. I am forced to concede and letthem keep their land but, although I agree to remain Head of the Church inEngland as my father was, at least I can make sure that England now prays inthe old way – whether they like it or not.

Although Ifeel the restoration is incomplete and I like the situation little better thanmy cousin, Reginald Pole, I accept that we must move slowly. Slow but sureas my old nurse used to say. England has changed since my father’s day, andwill not easily be persuaded to revert. As soon as can be managed, the gentleold ways are reinstated. The work is done by degrees, the crosses are restoredto the rood lofts, the gilded wall paintings repaired, and Latin prayers aremurmured once more in the dead of night.

“Your Majesty,you must choose a husband. If the old religion is to continue after … ahem … YourMajesty cannot be here forever. You must have a son to rule after…”

“Yes, yes, Iknow.”

Rochester islike a dog with a rat, he will not let the matter drop. I wonder which memberof the council has prompted him to accost me.

“I am not ayoung woman, Rochester … you are aware that there are certain dangers attachedto marriage and the childbed?”

“But … YourMajesty will concede it to be her royal duty.”

I sigh, andstare unsmiling into his dark eyes. He does not flinch away. I cannot argue. Heis right. My father moved heaven and earth to get England an heir. I should putmy personal fear aside and do the same. I sigh heavily and throw my book ontothe table.

“I will wednobody until I have met and spoken with them at length. I refuse to take astranger into my bed. Have the council make up a list of suitors, and I will scratchthrough any I am not prepared to consider.”

I recall myfather suggesting a similar thing and someone quipped that selecting a bridewas not dissimilar to choosing a new horse. I glare at Rochester, daring him toremember that also.

“Very well, YourMajesty.” He bows low, backs from the room and, as the door closes, Susan comesforward.

“Is thereanything you require, Your Majesty?”

I lean back inmy chair and scowl into the fire.

“My father wasright. I should have been a boy. If I were a king, marriage would be a simplerthing. Wives are dispensable but a queen is not. If I die in childbirth, allEngland will be affected. There will be chaos. But supposing when – if –I marry, my husband seeks to rule in my stead or tries to use my power to hisown ends? He might argue that as the male he is my superior. Even if I wed oneof my subjects, a man far beneath me in status, he might still seek to raisehimself or fill his coffers at my expense. Oh, Susan, how can I trust any ofthem? Men greatly dislike being ruled by a woman and I long for peace. I fearmarriage will bring me little of that.”

“I fear itbrings few of us comfort, Your Majesty.”

“What wouldyou do if you were me, Susan?”

“Me? Well … ifI might speak frankly, Your Majesty, I think it unlikely you will find personalsatisfaction with any man. Perhaps it would be best to choose a husband whowill be beneficial to the church. Select a Catholic gentleman, someone withauthority who has the strength to stand against Protestantism not just in ourrealm but overseas too.”

There areCatholics aplenty to choose from in England, but an English gentleman

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