May 19, CE 1543, Tower of London, England
To,
His Royal Highness,
Viswanadha Nayakkar the First,
The Kingdom of Madurai,
East Indies.
G reetings from England. I am sure this letter finds you in good health. Yours is a hot country, so I suppose there are none of the diseases that plague us. The Sweating Sickness assaults us every year; yet here I am, in the city where it is at its worst, writing to you. I have my reasons, I assure you.
But how remiss of me — beginning a letter without even naming myself. I must beg your indulgence until the end of this letter, or you may stop reading. I sound too fearful — but wouldn’t you too, if your mother had been executed for treason?
I’m in what used to be her prison cell. From the window, I can see clearly the site of her scaffold — seven years ago, exactly on this day, her head was chopped off on the orders of my father, the king. For crimes she never committed. And she, the Queen of England! One day alive; dead, the next.
No one knows I’m here; I sneaked away, saying I wished to see the river, for these places are out of bounds to a commoner like me — I was stripped of my royal status upon my mother’s death, you see. I have my own house, but no home. I have attendants, but no family. I am a princess, but everyone says I am only a lady. I cannot talk of these things to anyone. It wouldn’t take much for my head to be chopped off too.
And so I write to you. A king far, far away in the East Indies, where English is not even known, let alone spoken. You may have never heard of Anne Boleyn or King Henry the VIII — but I know something about you and your country.
How, you ask?
Traveller’s tales
Through a Portuguese horse-trader by name Fernao Nunes. And a traveller called Domingos Paes. Perhaps you are acquainted with them? They spent some years in your land — the Bisnaga Kingdom. And they made notes about your lives, your hills and huts and rivers, jewels, palaces and temples … all of which were translated and circulated in the Tudor court.
It is an extremely cultured court, ours — like the one at Bisnaga. Does not your overlord, Crisnarao Macacao have eight great poets in his? Ours has such too — or had. Like Thomas Wyatt. And we developed a taste for books, music and travel. Especially I — I have been learning French, Italian, Latin and Greek since I was five. I can write wonderfully complicated passages like this: “Knowing that pusillanimity and idleness are most repugnant unto a reasonable creature, and that (as the philosopher sayeth), even as an instrument of iron or other metal waxeth soon rusty unless otherwise occupied, even so shall the wit of a man or woman wax dull and unapt to do or understand anything unless it be always occupied … ”
That didn’t make much sense, did it? But I do it anyway — partly because it’s the style … and because it’s easier to disguise my real meaning in such lengthy nonsense. These are dangerous times.
Mine is a man’s world — but make no mistake, I, a woman, intend to make my mark upon it. I have a brother, Prince Edward, and a half-sister Lady Mary who will take the throne before me … but that has not stopped me from dreaming of being a queen.
- Elizabeth the First (September 7, 1533 –March 24 , 1603) was the first female Tudor monarch, and hailed the best. Celebrated as one of the most learned queens ever, in her rule, England became a power to contend with, in trade, religion and education. She defeated the Spanish Armada; sent explorers across the world and on December 31,1600, signed a charter that allowed the East India Company to trade in India.
- Bisnaga Kingdom – Vijayanagara Kingdom
- Crisnarao Macacao – Krishnadeva Raya Maharaja
My mother, Queen Anne, had dreams too. She was a great reader and believed that knowledge brings enlightenment. I believe so, too. We’re an island kingdom, and most of our trade is through France, Spain and Portugal — but I dream of a time when we can trade with the Indies ourselves. When we shall exchange spices, silks, gold, silver, pepper, cotton, sugar and wine; when our learned men and libraries shall exchange ideas and ideals across whole continents, and we need not depend upon agents such as Christovao de Figueiredo to send reports; when I need not bind myself in society’s chains but can reach out, monarch to monarch and it shall be England, trading with East India.
My dynasty is not ancient; it was only in 1485 that my grandfather established reign, and the Tudor rose became England’s emblem. Just as I know that yours, the Nayaks were established recently, and you have been minting the deer on your currency very lately.
I notice everything, you see — even your sample coins sent by the Portuguese ambassador. His reports speak of you imprisoning your own father for treason. It is a terrible thing to do — but I, as a royal, admire it, for I value loyalty above all.
In my reign, I shall be a queen that inspires such devotion. My court shall be cultured, modern and broad-minded; my people wealthy, and my merchants successful. My explorers shall charter lands hitherto undiscovered; I shall usher in a golden age.
But now, it is time to destroy this letter, for it was only a means to release my throttled emotions. The words in ink shall be burned away — but not the words etched in my heart. Someday, this mere lady shall fulfil her mother’s dreams and become Regina: Queen of England.
Sincerely,
Anne Boleyn’s daughter,
Elizabeth Tudor.
