Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) (10 page)

“I was not aware
, Your Grace. It does have quite an Old World feel to it, with its dark towers and arrow-slit windows, so I had suspected it was quite aged.”

“Even the two princes of the Tower lived here for a time before they were taken prisoner.”

I was struck numb for a moment with the irony of it. Those two young boys, the sons of Edward IV of England and Elizabeth Woodville, a future king and a spare, seen as a threat to the crown, had shared the same roof as I did. Was it a sign of things to come?

“Did you see many
courtiers roaming about Baynard’s while your sister was queen?” Lady Anne asked as she came up beside me.

I thought back to those days that were so bleak
, and fear filled for me.

“Yes, his lordship did have many men coming to the
castle to discuss things in private. Secret meetings, missives being passed, messengers in the middle of the night.”

The two women exchanged a glance over my head
that looked quite meaningful as if I had spilled some news they wished to hear. A part of me had wondered whether I should share those details, but Lady Katherine was a trusted relation. Lady Anne was a dear friend of said relation as well as a cunning woman from whom I thought I might be able to gain some education.

“
There is much suspicion about what transpired those short days last month. The queen will be most appreciative of your knowledge of those men, my dear.” Lady Katherine patted my hand.

And would she appreciate Katherine passing the information along, or me for giving it?
A twinge of irritation flitted in my mind at the thought. I knew my step-grandmother would be searching for anything she could use to gain favor with the queen. Would I be that scapegoat?

“Do you recall who the men were?” Lady Anne asked, her voice casual but her eyes sharp.

My mind raced with questions. Was this their own plan to find out what they could or had the queen requested the information? Was this how I would be elevated at court? I decided then and there I would tell them everything I knew, as much as I could, and what I could not tell them, I would seek the information out. If they did the queen’s bidding, all the better, and if they didn’t, Queen Mary would still know that I was loyal to her. There was truly nothing I could lose, and I had to trust that these women could help me.

“The Privy Council members, minus Northumberland. They did so behind his back as most suspected he was a party to it all.”

“And your father?”

“He let i
t be known he was ill. I think Father knew from the moment the people were not receptive to Jane’s crowning that his plans would fall through, although he did fight as much as I think he was willing.”

The women nodded, their lips pursed. Jane skipped ahead to smell a patch of Tudor roses.

“Was Parr of Northampton one of the men in attendance?” Lady Katherine asked.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You are a good girl, Katherine.”

Doubt and guilt riddled my insides. I wanted to share this information with them
. I wanted to become embroiled in whatever scheme or plot they were hatching, in hopes of saving my sister, but at the same time I remembered Jane’s words, and fear filled me. Perhaps it would be best if I said no more and went back to my embroidery and lying about in bed and daydreaming in the gardens of a marriage filled with love and little children bouncing around my feet.

Alas, it would never be. My husband
was ruled too much by his father, Pembroke, and if what he’d threatened was true, our marriage would not last besides.

“Why the long face of a sudden?” Lady Katherine asked. She lifted my chin with the tip of her finger and gazed into my eyes. “Do not be afraid
, my girl. We shall see that nothing happens to you. We will keep you safe.”

“But what of Jane?”

Lady Katherine pursed her lips and shook her head. “I am afraid there is nothing we can do for your sister, save pray to God that Queen Mary take mercy on her.”

Mercy… What would Mary
’s mercy be? Already, she had an army charging through the country and burning men for lesser deeds than proclaiming themselves the ruling monarch.

“And if you truly wish to be taken from this place, a new start given, perhaps I can be of assistance.” Lady Anne
’s voice was soft but full of confidence. “Perhaps we should go inside and have a glass of wine or cider?” she suggested, her piercing gaze poised on a gardener who appeared to be doing a bit more than just gardening. “No one is ever safe from prying minds.”

The four of us ushered inside, and while Lady Katherine and Lady Anne put their heads together over glasses of deep red wine, I poured cups of cider for
young Jane Seymour and me.

“How do you like being at court?” I asked
Jane, curious to see how different court was with a Catholic queen.

“I like it well enough,” Jane answered,
her eyes flicking to her mother. “But I will admit, if I can count you as a friend of mine, that I would much prefer to be at home in Hanworth, attending my studies, amongst other things.”

I sighed heavily. “You may count me a friend, Jane, and I will admit to you that I do miss Bradgate, the manor where I grew up. Not so much intrigue assaulted us there. Our daily regime at the time
had seemed so boring and mundane, and yet now that I have had a taste of London and court, I yearn for a simpler time when all I had to worry over was when my tutor would let me outside to roam the gardens, or to hurry the stable boy into saddling my mare.”

Jane laughed. “Yes. I wonder if
’tis part of aging and becoming a woman, or if some country ladies still get to toil away their days in leisure.” She took a long gulp of her cider and laughed when a drip spilled down her chin.

“I do not know…” I mused. “When we were
at Bradgate, I do not recall seeing my mother overmuch. And at the time, I did not even think to see what she was about, unless she was instructing me.”

Jane flicked her gaze at the duchesses.
“The same cannot be said for me. My mother is always planning, talking with someone, or writing letters. She has been my whole life. Even at Hanworth she is a lady of the court first, mother second, and lady of leisure never.”

I wished I kn
ew my own mother so well. Knowing who she was, what she represented to the crown, and the constant plans and plots of my father, however, I knew Mother would not be a leisurely country lady. I only wished I’d had more time with her before marrying to learn what I should have been doing. To learn to love her for being more than simply my mother.

July 31, 1553

“My lady, a messenger arrived for you with this letter.”

I looked up from the table in my personal chamber where I ate alone.
Mrs. Helen handed me the rolled parchment. I pushed aside my barely touched plate of pheasant and capers.

I set the parchment down on the table and picked up my napkin. “Thank you,
Mrs. Helen.” I wiped my lips of invisible crumbs. My thumb brushed hesitantly over my mother’s seal before I cracked it and turned my gaze to the banked hearth. The few candles lit about my room had shadows dancing along the walls, and long dark fingers pointed, as if beckoning me to unravel the letter and read its contents.

Dear Katherine Pembroke,

I write to you to inform you of our
queen’s most gracious pardon of your father from the Tower. We are most pleased that he has been set free and that Queen Mary has seen fit to take the charge of treason from his head. But with this good news also comes word that you may find brings sadness to your heart. The queen, in her most infinite wisdom, which we shall always endeavor to strive for, has found that your sister, Jane the usurper, must remain in the Tower, and shall undergo a trial for treason. It is my most fervent wish that you pray for your dear sister, and that Her Majesty may be merciful to her in her folly, and that Northumberland shall be punished for luring your sister into such deceitful actions.

Your mother,

Frances, Duchess of Suffolk

I should have taken a seat before reading. My knees grew weak and I stumbled. As I fell backward, Mrs. Helen caught me in her sturdy arms and righted me.

“Come, my lady, let me put you to bed
.”

Yanking from her grasp, I reached
to pick up the missive I’d dropped. I crumpled the paper in my hands.

“To the fire with you!” I shouted before tossing the paper into the heart
h. I refused to budge, watching the paper smoke and slowly catch fire, before letting myself be led to bed.

How cou
ld my mother be such a traitor—for she was in every sense of the word. She’d gone against her sovereign, her own daughter. How could my father, the one who had forced this fate on Jane, be let free while Jane sat imprisoned and facing trial?

The world seemed an awful, unjust place to me then.

If they could do such things to Jane, what would they do to me? I had not half her wit and intelligence, nor had I studied as hard as she to learn when someone might try to fool me into folly.

Chapter
Five

And Cesar frowning on the fate,

there was none other but:

But fly the realm or prostrate fall,

full flat at Cesar’s foot.

O states by this come learn to stoup,

no stoutness can prevail…

~Thomas Churchyard

Elizabethan
soldier and poet

August 25, 1553

My thirteenth birthday.

But there
was no one to celebrate the occasion with me. Mother wrote that she planned a visit sometime soon but had to take to the country for a bout of rest.

Mother said
Jane wrote a letter to Queen Mary, begging clemency and pardon. She reminded the queen that while my sister had played a part in herself being proclaimed queen, it was not all her doing, and she would be grateful for any punishment meted out to her, but that she hoped Her Majesty would be kind.

Beneath all of the cordial words of my mother
, I bristled with rage. It seemed that in the past few months I had aged by years and years. Mrs. Helen appeared to realize this same thing and came to me often with rumors she had heard whether they were fact or false. I appreciated her diligence in finding courtly news for me, since my mother only deigned to write infrequently and the news she imparted was rarely helpful. The duchesses and I were still in contact, but both were also trying to find their own footing in this new court. Until I was reinstated in the queen’s good graces, it would not bode well for them to be seen with me.

I crumple
d up Mother’s insincere letter and stepped to the hearth. The stones were cold, and ashes had been swept away. This late in August, I begged my servants not to light a fire for fear I would suffocate from the heat.

I reached for the flint and struck it until sparks ignited and caught my mother
’s letter in flames. I held her missive, watching as the flames licked at the sides, and her words melted, but my mother’s words were not all that disturbed me.

“My lady!”
Mrs. Helen rushed in and wrenched the burning paper from my hands just before it singed my fingers. She threw it onto the stone floor of the hearth and stomped on it. “What are you thinking? You would hurt yourself?”

I turned absently to my old nursemaid, at once grateful for her presence but irritated by her question.
My fingers stung where the flames had licked at my flesh. I examined my hand. It was pink in spots.

I shrugged my shoulders and glanced around for the
tisane I’d been sipping earlier. Mug in hand, I gulped greedily, willing Mrs. Helen to take her hands from her hips and leave me. Maybe I did want to hurt myself. Maybe, I just wanted all the pain and strife of this world to be over. What more did I have to live for?

But she didn
’t leave me. Instead, she wet a cloth with water and took my hand, washing where I’d burned myself.