The King's Deception

I was told of the deception by my father. He called me to his deathbed and revealed something extraordinary. When but a child of thirteen, the young princess Elizabeth had died of fever. She was buried in the garden at Overcourt House, inside a stone coffin, with no ceremony, the Lady Kate Ashley and Thomas Parry the only two privy. Both feared for their lives, as King Henry VIII had charged them with his daughter’s safety. Henry was then unhealthy, enormous in girth, his temperament violent and irritable. Though Elizabeth’s death came from no person’s fault, both Ashley and Parry would have paid for the girl’s death with their lives. But circumstances worked in their favor. First was that the father rarely saw the daughter, his mind consumed with other matters. Thankfully, there were two wars ongoing, one with Scotland, the other with France. Henry’s fifth wife, Katherine Howard, had been unfaithful and was executed for infidelity. Then the wooing of Katherine Parr and his marriage for a sixth time became overriding. The perpetual worry for his legitimate son and heir, Edward, along with his own mortality, further dominated the final years of his reign. So his second daughter was relatively unimportant.

It helped that Elizabeth lived an isolated life away from court, the Lady Ashley, her governess, her only constant companion. With the child dead something had to be done and it was Thomas Parry who proposed a solution. Parry was aware of the illegitimate grandchild of Henry VIII, the son born to Henry FitzRoy and Mary Howard. Until his death in 1536 FitzRoy had stood in great favor with the king. Henry had known of FitzRoy’s marriage to Mary Howard, and approved, but he had forbidden the consummation of the marriage until the young lovers were older. This decree was ignored and a son was born to them in 1533. Of this, Henry was never told.

Parry proposed a substitution. The unknown grandson for the deceased princess. Lady Ashley thought the idea absurd and said they would all lose their heads. But Parry lay forth five principles in making his case. First, the imposter must have the likeness of the princess, as to create no suspicion. This was satisfied since the grandson had inherited the Tudor fairness of skin, the red hair, and the features of his grandfather. Second, there must be a familiarity with the circumstances of the princess’s life. The grandson had been raised in isolation by the Howards, but had been taught of his noble heritage. Third, there must be both education and knowledge similar to what the princess received. This, too, had been provided, the boy schooled in geography, mathematics, history, mechanics, and architecture. Fourth, a skill in the classics and foreign tongues was important. The grandson could speak and write French, Italian, Spanish, and Flemish. Finally, there must be an ease of body and the courtliness of a highborn. This the grandson possessed in abundance, as the Howards were the wealthiest in the realm.

Thomas Parry traveled to where the grandson lived and proposed his plan to Mary Howard, the boy’s mother, who readily agreed. Thirteen years had passed since her husband died. She’d lived a quiet life, though her brother, the Earl of Surrey, was one of Henry VIII’s favorites. But unbeknownst to Parry controversy was brewing within the Howard family. Mary’s father had petitioned the king for permission to marry his daughter to Thomas Seymour. That permission was granted, but Mary, aided by her brother, refused. Her brother then suggested that she seduce the king and become his mistress. But she refused, considering the thought repulsive. She and her brother became estranged after that, and she eventually testified against him when Henry tried and executed him for treason.

Mary agreed with all that Parry proposed, breaking off relations with her family. She never remarried and died in 1557, a year before her son was proclaimed queen of England. I inquired of my father how the deception was maintained since, surely, some Howard relations would have wondered what happened to the boy. But after the Earl of Surrey’s execution in 1547, the Howards harbored a great hate for Henry. If any of them were privy to the deception, none ever revealed a thought. Mary Howard, herself, knew of her family’s quest for royal power and, while resenting her father and brother, surely took amusement in how she, the lowly daughter, obtained what no male Howard had managed.

My father was told of the deception shortly after Elizabeth was proclaimed monarch. He was called to the new queen and found her alone in her chambers. She was twenty-five years old and had, for many years, worn the robe of a nun’s habit. She had, in every way, been overlooked in favor of her brother Edward, her sister Mary, and her father’s many wives. She had become accustomed to being forgotten. Now she was queen. She stood that day full of height and with a steady gaze, providing a commanding presence. Rings, fans, jewelry, embroidery, pearls, and lace garnished her attire. Her hair was yellowish red, the skin a dead white. Her eyes were set deep in their sockets and their stare was aggressive.

“My Lord Cecil, you are a man whom we have long trusted, both for your wisdom and your discretion.”

My father bowed at the compliment.

“We desire for you to serve as principal secretary. We have no doubt that you shall be faithful to us all. But there is something we must discuss.”

It was then that the imposter revealed himself, explaining all that I have detailed so far. My father listened with a patience that would characterize his life, realizing that he had been offered a unique opportunity. This man, of Tudor blood, but not born to reign, was now queen. No one, save for Lady Ashley and Thomas Parry, knew the truth. To expose the imposter would be to plunge the kingdom into civil war, as many would lay claim to the empty throne. Nothing would be gained by that. For the past twelve years this man had existed as a woman and no one was the wiser. He had become, in every way, Elizabeth Tudor. For my father to now know this would bind them together until one or both left this world. What was being proposed was not a position at court, but a partnership bound by a great deception.

My father stared up from his deathbed, watching as I absorbed all that he had said.

“I told the imposter that I was his servant and will forever remain such.”

I said nothing.

“The queen is aware that I am passing on this great secret. She desires for you, my son, to serve her as I have done. I too want that.”

“My only wish is I can be merely half the faithful servant that you have been.”

My father died a day later, August 4, 1598, and I was summoned to the queen. She was sixty-five years old that day, her cheeks hollow, the high forehead, long chin, and aquiline nose exaggerating the gauntness of a dry and wrinkled face. Most of her teeth were gone. A curled red wig covered her head and an enormous lace ruff wrapped her neck. She stared at me with the same gaze that had kept England safe the past forty years.

“What say you?”

I dropped to one knee and bowed my head. “I shall serve, as my father served, faithful and forever loyal.”

“Then it shall be, Lord Secretary. Together, we will keep England strong.”