Her Majesty’s Secret Service

034. Rebellion

It was a late Saturday afternoon in the second week of November, two days after the Queen had left London.

The Queen, who had gone hunting, returned to London.

—

The Queen, returning earlier than expected, immediately sequestered herself in her room, too tired to dine, and fell asleep. Prince Eric, upon his return, faced me with an inexplicably weary expression.

“What’s the matter? Both Her Majesty the Queen and Your Highness seem… troubled.”

“Never mind that. More importantly, I have good news to share with you.”

“Good news?”

“The Queen will announce our betrothal at tomorrow’s banquet. The negotiation of rights will begin right after the feast ends.”

“Did Her Majesty say so herself?”

“Yes, she did. She agreed to the betrothal and will announce it herself.”

Prince Eric continued, a slight smile on his face.

“Logan, this is all thanks to you. I never thought your words would take such effect. Once I take my place as consort, I will not forget you. Is there anything you desire? Speak, be it a title or wealth, I will grant what I can.”

“I am grateful for the thought alone. But what happens after the marriage?”

“I’ll return to my homeland for a while, then come back in time for the wedding. After that, I’ll likely stay in London for some time. How long depends on certain decisions.”

By national power and conditions, it was clear that Prince Eric of Sweden had no way to surpass Felipe.

However, there was one way for Prince Eric to outdo Felipe—by leveraging the Queen’s tender-hearted nature.

Both the Queen Mary I knew from records and the Queen Mary breathing the same air as me now showed an unexpectedly soft side.

So I advised the Prince that even if he was at a disadvantage in the betrothal terms, winning the Queen’s favor could still give him a chance.

Fortunately, my advice proved effective, and today I gained a new ally.

I’m not sure how many years I’ll be in London, but Prince Eric, soon to be called Duke Eric, will be a strong support for me.

“But Your Highness, you look particularly tired today. Are you sure nothing’s amiss?”

“Ah, there’s nothing to it!”

* * *

On the Sunday following the Queen’s return from the hunt, a day of rest, there was also a banquet welcoming the Swedish delegation.

The foods for the banquet, all prepared by myself, Marco, and the rest of the royal kitchen staff since morning, had us bound to the kitchen until the feast began.

“Oliver, if the meat is done, pass it here to take it away!”

“Yes, just a moment!”

Receiving the plate of meat from Oliver, I made my way to the banquet hall.

Inside the banquet hall, the sounds of lutes and recorders intertwined, creating light and cheerful tunes. It was amidst these lively melodies that I carried the plates.

“Today, I have a joyous announcement to make.”

As the Queen’s voice filled the banquet hall, the previously lively music vanished, leaving only a profound silence that enveloped the room.

“I am aware that many are concerned about the lack of an heir. Today, I wish to alleviate that worry.”

All eyes of the nobles standing in the banquet hall turned towards the Queen.

The Swedish delegation seemed unfazed, but the English nobles wore puzzled expressions, unsure of what was happening.

“Prince Erik, come hither.”

At the Queen’s call, Erik moved from the crowd to her side. The Queen looked at Erik with a loving gaze before turning her attention back to the nobles.

Then, the Queen uttered words that shocked everyone. Though her speech was filled with flowery phrases about love, fate, and the nation, the intent was clear.

“For this reason, I have accepted the proposal of Erik Vasa. Let it be known to all.”

The eyes of the English nobles widened. Rumors had circulated about the Queen being seen with the Swedish prince, but no one imagined that the Catholic Queen would marry a Protestant, and a foreigner at that.

A brief silence enveloped the banquet hall. But soon, the applause from the Swedish delegates began to spread, and even among the English nobles, those who were Protestants, not Catholics, started to clap.

“Did the Queen just announce her marriage to the Swedish prince? Did I hear that correctly?”

“So the rumors of her with Prince Erik were true. To protect the heretics, and now to marry one? This is intolerable.”

“Long live Her Majesty the Queen! Long live Prince Eric! May you both enjoy eternal prosperity!”

“I thought they would start oppressing us right after the coronation… A royal marriage with Sweden? The Queen is much more tolerant than the rumors suggest. If she continues like this…”

The reactions of the nobles I saw while carrying the plates varied greatly, but generally fell into two categories. There were the Catholic nobles who showed displeasure at the news of the Queen and Prince Eric’s royal marriage, and the Anglican nobles who welcomed it with open arms.

Of course, the former were overwhelmingly more numerous, but that made the latter stand out even more. It wasn’t hard to distinguish those who were smiling brightly amidst the many furrowed brows.

Amidst the growing commotion of the banquet hall, a familiar face passed by. It was surely Bishop Steve, the one who had brought me here. It had been so long since I’d seen him that I almost greeted him, but he was already extending greetings to someone else, so I lowered my hand.

The person Bishop Steve addressed was someone I also knew well. It was Edward Courtney, who at the previous coronation banquet had boasted loudly about becoming a duke. I couldn’t forget his face from that day when he had demanded a dish just like the one served to the Queen, claiming it was his right as the soon-to-be duke.

“Edward, it’s been a while.”

“Teacher, you’re here too? What in the world is happening. Sweden, of all places. A royal marriage with a prince who believes in heresy. The position of Duke of England…”

“Quiet, this is not the place for such talk.”

But something was off. Bishop Steve calmed Courtney’s irritation and then whispered something to him. Courtney’s expression changed strangely upon hearing Bishop Steve’s whisper, and he nodded slightly.

Then the two of them carefully slipped out of the banquet hall. It was suspicious to say the least. I was pretending to tidy up the plates on the table, so they didn’t seem to notice me.

Bishop Steve was a devout Catholic, so he surely wouldn’t be pleased with this marriage. And Edward Courtney, the lost dukedom must still be haunting him.

While the Queen was announcing her royal marriage to Prince Eric, the conversation these two were having was surely not a pleasant one.

‘Didn’t a rebellion break out in response to the announcement of Queen Mary’s marriage to Philip…?’

Suddenly, the events of the original history flashed through my mind. With a growing sense of unease, I began to cautiously follow the two men, hoping my worries were unfounded.

* * *

Bishop Steve had left the welcoming banquet at the palace and was walking in the garden. His expression was rigid, and Courtney following him looked the same.

The two men walking through the garden arrived at a secluded spot where hardly any presence could be felt. Thinking they were now out of earshot, Bishop Steve spoke up.

“Are you gathering people in Kent?”

“Did you know that too?”

Courtney had been gathering soldiers in Kent ever since he heard that the Prince of Sweden had proposed to the Queen. No, to be precise, since he heard that the Prince of Sweden and the Queen were seen intimately together.

It was supposed to be a secret preparation, but when Bishop Steve mentioned it, Courtney couldn’t help but show a slight surprise.

“But that’s unexpected. Aren’t you one of the Queen’s confidants? And yet, you plan to betray her? To make me a duke?”

Courtney quickly composed himself and asked the bishop calmly. It was the question he had since the bishop spoke of making him a duke at the banquet.

“Do you think it makes sense to have a foreign duke? Precisely, a pagan foreigner. I’ve advised Her Majesty repeatedly, but she wouldn’t even consider… What can I do? As a loyal subject, I must correct Her Majesty’s mistake.”

Having said that, Bishop Steve approached Courtney and, placing a hand on his shoulder, said,

“Let me say it once more. I intend to make you a duke. To sweep away the heretics and restore a devout England. Courtney, you are the consort I envision for Her Majesty. I will help you.”

Hearing Bishop Steve’s words, Courtney began to hesitate. Could he really trust these words, or was Bishop Steve merely staging a play to extract his confession? Such worries made him waver, but they didn’t last long.

“Really… Will you help me?”

A faint smile appeared on Bishop Steve’s face upon hearing Courtney’s response. It was a smile that could be either mocking or genuine.

‘Look at that old man… What is he saying?’

And Logan, who was hiding in a corner of the garden eavesdropping on their conversation, couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity.

* * *

In the forests near Rochester, located northwest of Kent.

A caravan of wagons rattled as it entered the forest. The horses pulling the wagons seemed strained, suggesting the cargo was quite heavy. The wagons were covered with dark cloth, concealing their contents.

Guarding this suspicious procession were armed soldiers, whose clean uniforms and weapons suggested they were no ordinary troops.

At the head of the caravan rode two individuals on horseback, their equipment noticeably finer than that of the other soldiers, seemingly the leaders of the group.

“Where are those who are to receive the goods? Weren’t they supposed to be waiting around here?”

The middle-aged man leading the way asked the young man following him. The young man, hearing this, immediately dismounted and inspected a nearby tree. Soon, he found some markings.

“Judging by the marks left here, this seems to be the right place. They appear to be running late.”

“It’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Those who live here are later than us who come from afar.”

“Perhaps it’s because they’re close by that they can afford to be late?”

As the middle-aged man grumbled, a group of about three or four people appeared from the opposite side.

Among them, a man with a stylishly grown brown beard took the lead and spoke up.

“Are you the ones sent by Sir Courtney?”

“Ah, you’ve finally arrived. Are you Thomas Wyatt? Pleased to meet you. I’m Jack, and this here is Tom. Why are you so late?”

“Sorry about that. Got lost on the way…”

“Does that make any sense? Weren’t you the one who marked the trail here?”

“Well, yes, but… everyone can make a mistake, can’t they? Let’s not fuss over a little delay. So, those items loaded in the back, they’re the goods sponsored by Sir Courtney?”

As Thomas pointed to the wagon while changing the subject, Jack clicked his tongue briefly and responded.

“Tsk, yes. The equipment to arm the soldiers and two thousand pounds in gold coins. Do you know how much trouble it was to bring these here in secret?”

“Indeed, I heard you met with Sir Courtney’s sponsor, and it seems that was true. So, what are we to do next?”

“The details will be explained by Tom, this fellow here. Oh, you haven’t had experience commanding soldiers, have you? Leave that to Tom as well.”

“Perfect. I don’t know who you are, but if I succeed in this endeavor, I shall reward you handsomely. Convey my thanks to the sponsor. I wish to meet in London as well.”

“Ha, will do. I’ll pass on the message.”

Jack’s voice carried a subtle sneer, but Thomas Wyatt either knew and ignored it or was oblivious as he laughed it off.

“Well then, I shall take my leave. Tom, I trust you’ll handle things well.”

“Yes, leave it to me.”

“Good, then I’ll see you in London.”

With those words, Jack and the soldiers guarding the wagon turned back the way they came, leaving behind only Thomas Wyatt’s party that had emerged from the opposite side of the forest, Tom, and three soldiers who appeared to be his attendants.

“Yes, it begins now. Tom, was it? I entrust you with the task until those deceiving the Queen’s eyes are vanquished.”

“Indeed. You can rely on me.”

The first Thursday of December.

Thomas Wyatt armed a thousand of his followers and took control of Rochester.

The sheriffs, responsible for the region’s security, mustered their forces in resistance, but against a thousand soldiers equipped with quality gear from an unknown source, their efforts were futile.

Ultimately, Rochester fell into the hands of Thomas Wyatt, who, having seized the city, began to rally troops under the pretext of rescuing the Queen, deceived into marrying the Swedish prince by traitors.

The seed of rebellion blossomed in Rochester.

Footnote: