Most are at least familiar with the account of Mary queen of Scots' imprisonment and execution at the hands of her cousin Elizabeth I, but a less known tale is that of the relationship that developed between Mary and her host/jailer, George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, and his wife Bess of Hardwick. Philippa Gregory breathes life into this historical footnote in her novel, "The Other Queen".
A sincere man of honor, George accepts Elizabeth's charge to hold Mary as his unwilling guest, but in the style she is accustomed. His wife Bess is less than enthusiastic about the prospect of entertaining royalty.
Two women under one roof – big mistake.
.
.
Bess is a "much married woman". She describes herself as "self-made" and has made a career of bettering herself through strategic marriages and then helping her spouses rob the Catholic Church which is being dismantled by the Protestants that have seized control of England. By marrying husbands above her station and then carefully husbanding the profits, she successively gains leverage to yet better matches in turn. George is her fourth, the crown of her achievements, joining his noble blood with her new money in a blend that mixes well with the cream of Elizabethan society.
Mary has been to the alter more than once herself, but that's where the resemblance to Bess ends. She is the product of careful breeding and carries in her person the keys to power, a "queen three times over" heiress to the thrones of Scotland, England, and France. Raised as a princess, she takes the trappings of royalty for granted and holds court even in captivity, at the expense of her hosts. Bad enough for ol' Bess that has slaved for every penny, but what gnaws deeper is having a woman said to be the most beautiful in Christendom and half her age to boot sharing her "husband the earl's" attentions.
Indeed, George the jailer is captured by his prisoner's charm and torn between Mary and his wife, the lady of the house out ranked by her guest. He's an honorable man, so there's no question of loyalty. On the contrary, he is played by both women. He tries to make Mary feel as welcome as possible under the circumstances, but she returns by exploiting his goodwill to hatch ever new plots to recruit spies and allies to overthrow her rival. And Bess for her part thinks nothing of spying on her husband and the "other queen" for Elizabeth's henchmen.
On the canvas of 16th century England's religious struggles, Gregory has painted a metaphor of those two bridesmaids of Christ; the Catholic Church and that peculiar invention, the Church of England. Catholic Mary has the pedigree and holds court in grandeur. She's beautiful and glamorous, but has the heart of a harlot and seduces men to rebellion and death. Bess is the Anglican. She serves a bastard queen, a self-made religion conceived in lust by Henry VIII and nursed with greed by Elizabeth I, robbing Catholic sacraments and Protestant reformation to cloth herself in legitimacy. She thinks she's fooled everyone, but even her own husband sees a common thief underneath the trappings of nobility.
And George is the Bridegroom. Grieved and deceived by Mary's scheming and Bess' grubbing, he turns his back in sorrow on both. As if to say, in the words of the poet in Elizabeth's court, "A plague on both your houses."
.
