Читать книгу Beware, Princess Elizabeth - Carolyn Meyer - Страница 7

Hatfield, Hertfordshire, England 17

November 1558

THERE WAS A TIME, long ago, that I loved my sister. There may have been a time that Mary loved me. But that all changed. It had to, given who we were: the daughters of Henry VIII. Our father at times adored us but often shunned us and occasionally nearly forgot us. We were not the sons he desired.

Worse: I am the daughter of the woman Mary hated most in the world. She never forgave me for who my mother was: Anne Boleyn, who took the place of Mary’s mother as queen.

When I was born Mary was forced to be my servant – not an easy thing for a proud young woman of seventeen. How she must have loathed that! But then, before I reached my third birthday, my mother was dead, her execution ordered by my own father – and Mary’s.

Yet, in spite of all, it seemed for a time that Mary was truly fond of me – before she turned bitter, before she recognised that we were enemies.

My path to the throne has been long and fraught with peril. Now I am ready to follow in the footsteps of my father, England’s greatest king. Mary, who hindered me at every turn, will soon be forgotten. But I promise you, history will remember me, Elizabeth, not for who my father was, or my mother or my sister, but for myself.