Meanwhile, he must turn his attention to affairs of the world, and with the death of Mary and the accession of Elizabeth, England gave him much to think of.

He took up the dispatch Feria had sent from the English court. Feria was the most suitable ambassador at this time, for Feria was one of the handsomest of men, and the new Queen was very fond of handsome men; Feria was well versed in the art of flattery, and the new Queen was the vainest woman on Earth; moreover, Feria spoke fluent English and was affianced to Jane Dormer, so that he possessed many qualities which would enable him to fill the post satisfactorily.

But Feria was made uneasy by the new Queen.

Although she still heard Mass, and the religion of the country appeared to be the same as in her sister’s day, there had been an immediate cessation of the persecutions. The woman was at times a ridiculous coquette, and then suddenly it would be as though a shrewd statesman looked out from behind her fan. It was impossible to get a straight answer from her on any subject of importance; she would prevaricate, giving neither “Yes” nor “No,” holding out promises one day, repudiating them the next.

Her response to her sister’s stipulations had been typical of her. Mary, in bestowing upon her the succession, had said she did so on these conditions: That she would not change her privy council; that she would make no alteration in religion; and that she would discharge Mary’s debts. Elizabeth’s reply was that the debts should certainly be paid; but as regards the council it was Elizabeth’s opinion that one Queen had as much right to choose her councillors as another. “As for religion,” she said, “I promise this much: I will not change it, provided only that it can be proved by the word of God, which shall be the only foundation and rule of my religion.”

“You see, your Highness,” wrote Feria, “the kind of woman with which we have to deal. There is a sharpness beneath the soft answer. She says ‘Yes’ in such a way as to mean ‘No.’ She said: ‘There is no reason why I should thank Mary for bequeathing the crown to me, for she has not the power of bestowing it upon me. Nor can I lawfully be deprived of it, since it is my hereditary right.’ Your Highness will see that this is a direct rebuff to yourself, as the new Queen has been assured of your efforts with Mary on her behalf.

“There is one other matter which gives me concern. I sought to extract from her a statement concerning her religious policy, and I tackled her while she was in the midst of her courtiers and statesmen, as I felt that if she publicly stated her intention to uphold the true religion, she would perforce be obliged to carry out that intention. I said that your Majesty had ordered me to beg her to be very careful about religious matters as they were what first and principally concerned you, implying that if she did not continue in the established religion your Majesty would become her enemy. Her answer came in a tone of mild reproach: ‘It would indeed be bad of me to forget God, who has been so good to me.’ Your Majesty will see how, with such an answer, she can say nothing or everything.

“There are, of course, many suitors for her hand … and crown. This makes her very coquettish indeed; she plays the part of desirable woman with such verve that in her presence it is difficult to believe that it is her crown and not her person which is so attractive. There is Prince Eric of Sweden, who, at time, she feigns to favor. There are your Majesty’s own cousins, the two sons of the Emperor Ferdinand. And, of course, Savoy.

“There is another who is considered a possible suitor. This is an Englishman, Lord Robert Dudley. This young man is very handsome and the Queen favors him, keeping him beside her and at times treating him as though he is her acknowledged lover. His wife has recently died in mysterious circumstances and there are unsavory rumors about this matter among the people; but the Queen is so set on the young man, and she being as she is, it is thought that she may make up her mind to marriage with him.

“I feel this matter of the Queen’s marriage is of the utmost importance to our country, and that while she is playing with the idea of making her subject Dudley her husband, she is obsessed by her vanity; and the way in which we could appeal to that would be to suggest to her the greatest match the world can offer.”

Philip laid down the documents and considered this. Himself once more the husband of a Queen of that bleak land! He shrank from the idea.

He thought of her—sly, yet demure—dropping to her knees before him, yet raising her eyes as though to say: I salute you because the world recognizes you as its greatest monarch; but to me you are just a man, and one day there will be a greater monarch—and that a woman. One day there will be a greater country than Spain, and that will be England; for I shall be Queen of England, and I will have none but the best.

She was arrogant and insolent, yet so clever that it was impossible to protest against that insolent arrogance.

He thought of her pleading with her sister, when he had seen her from behind the curtains. Then she had been afraid, and yet what pride there was in her, and how different she had seemed from poor, sickly Mary, doomed to defeat, frustration, and failure!

And to marry her! That was what Feria was suggesting. Marry that coquette, that virago, that conceited, foolish, shrewd woman!

She was not repulsive to him, but why should he concern himself with her physical attractions? It was not for him to marry for such reasons. He must think only of his religion and his country.

He looked again at the crucifix on the wall. To bring England back to Rome was worth any price that might be asked of him. And now this Queen was about to break away from Rome; he was fully aware of that. If she did so, Henri of France would have little difficulty in getting the Pope to excommunicate her; then the Pope would be ready to support the claim of Mary Queen of Scots to the English throne.

There must not be an English-French alliance.

He rose from his table and fell to his knees before the crucifix. There had come to him suddenly a vision of married life with the Queen of England. It would be an exciting life, he doubted not; quite different from that which he had shared with her half-sister. He thought of her red hair and blue eyes which veiled her secret thoughts. Desire? A little perhaps. She appealed to something in him. But he knew he could never subdue her. He knew that life with her would be one long battle. He was not a warrior; he was a man who hated war. Moreover, he felt that she, with her wiles and sly cunning, would get the better of him.

Marry Elizabeth? “No!” he murmured.

Yet such a marriage would be good for his country; it would baffle the French. He must pray; he must ask for guidance. Was it God’s will that he should marry Elizabeth of England?

Quite suddenly he knew that it was so. She was wavering toward heresy, and only marriage with the Most Catholic King might save her. He could make her abandonment of heresy a condition of the marriage; in fact he must do this.

Then the Inquisition should be set up in England. Was it not Philip’s task in life to save the world for Catholicism?

He wrote to Feria:

“I highly approve the course you have adopted in persuading the Queen not to marry a subject. As regards myself, if she were to broach the matter to you, you should treat it in such a way as neither to accept nor reject the suggestion entirely. Many obstacles present themselves. I could not be much in England, as my other dominions claim my attention. The Queen is rumored to be unsound in religion and it would not look well for me to marry her if she were not a Catholic. Such a marriage would, in view of the claims of Mary of Scotland, mean perpetual trouble with France. So there is much against the marriage; but I cannot lose sight of the fact that such a match would be of great moment to Christendom, and it is my great wish that England should not lapse into former errors.

“I have decided, therefore, to put aside all other considerations and render this service to God by offering to marry the Queen of England. There must be conditions, and the first is that the Queen must profess to be a staunch Catholic. Dispensation from the Pope will be necessary, but if she is a good Catholic that will present no great difficulty.”

When he had finished he read through the letter. To bring her and her country back to the true faith would be a great achievement and give him much credit in the eyes of God.

But was that the real reason why he wished to marry Elizabeth?

There were two others. She interested him. Her perpetual assurance of her own desirability had apparently made him feel that there must be some truth in it. Her past appeared to be far from unsullied; there had been adventures. She was young; she was all that Mary had not been.

And the last reason? As King of Spain, he must not lose the friendship of the English. Henri of France was awaiting his opportunities. If Mary Stuart ever reached the throne of England, then France, with England her close ally, would threaten to become the greatest world power.

There were so many reasons. Which was the most important of them all? Philip was not sure.

But the Queen of England was not overcome with joy by the proposal of the King of Spain. She flirted with Dudley and her Spanish suitor’s ambassador; she was absurdly coquettish, declaring that since Feria was her suitor by proxy he must not have lodgings under the same roof, for that would be most improper (yet this, Feria wrote, was she who, rumor had it, had borne Seymour a child!). First she favored one, then another; she accepted the rich present of jewels which Philip had instructed Feria to give her—jewels which he had previously given to Mary—but she had accepted them with a speculative light in her eyes which had meant: What does he want for this? Philip would never give something for nothing!