Prisoner of the Queen (Tales From the Tudor Court) (2 page)

Jane Seymour—daughter of Anne Seymour and Edward Seymour, sister to Edward “Ned” Seymour. Katherine Grey’s close friend.

Mary I (aka Princess Mary)—Queen of England (daughter of Henry VIII and Catherine of Aragon

Elizabeth I (aka Princess Elizabeth)—Queen of England (daughter of Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn)

Secondary Characters

William Cecil—Elizabeth I’s chief advisor.

Robert Dudley—Earl of Leicester. An ardent admirer of Elizabeth I’s. Brother to Guildford Dudley and son of the Duke of Northumberland who played a major role in Jane Grey’s ascent to the throne.

Guildford Dudley—husband of Lady Jane Grey, son of the Duke of Northumberland who played a major role in Jane Grey’s ascent to the throne.

Katherine Brandon, Duchess of Suffolk—stepmother to Frances Brandon, and grand step-mother to Jane, Katherine and Mary Grey.

Henry Herbert—Katherine Grey’s first husband, son of the Earl of Pembroke who played a major role in Jane Grey’s ascent to the throne.

Bess St. Loe—Bess of Hardwick, Countess of Shrewsbury. Married to William St. Loe. A lady of Elizabeth I’s bedchamber and sometimes confidante to Katherine Grey.

Jane Dormer, Countess of Feria—wife of the Spanish ambassador.

Ambassador de Feria—Spanish ambassador.

P
rologue

I have served three queens in my life. One was my sister, one was my savior, and one my bitterest enemy.

I’ve seen a queen fall from power in just nine days. I’ve watched a queen die of heartbreak and neglect. And I’ve threatened a queen with my very existence, for I, too, am of royal blood.

And yet, for most of my life, I
’ve done the bidding of queens. I’ve nodded my head, curtsied, acquiesced, given up my hopes and dreams. Mourned the death of loved ones taken before their time. Even in the face of brutal loss, I have listened and obeyed, understanding that, in all things, the sovereign always wins.

But I tell you, the
queen has not won this time. Even now, at the hour of my death, I have prevailed over her. There are those who see me as her victim, but I have triumphed where others failed. You see, my love has conquered the commands of a royal crown.

For love, I carved for myself a little peace and happiness from this life, and what love I have known ma
kes it all worthwhile. It was
mine
. It is still mine, this love. Love that I would never have known if I were a queen. Love that the queen herself has never known and never will.

So I shall rejoice, knowing that I would do it all once more. Knowing that there are some things in this life that we cannot let another control. We cannot
bend to another’s will at the risk of losing who we are. We must defy them. Keep sacred the matters of our hearts, our very souls. And that is why not even death will take this victory from me. My love, my private triumph, will live on even when I am gone.

For I am Lady Katherine Grey, and this is my story...

Chapter One

Draw near good minds that sadly marks,

the sway of worldly broils,

And hear what I at large can say,

of troubling times and toils.

Which did befall in foreign land,

‘
tween two of noble race…

~Thomas Churchyard

Elizabethan
soldier and poet

Twenty
years earlier…

August 25, 1548

Sudeley Castle loomed into the sky, the stones of the towers standing out to show that this was a household
of importance. That of the Dowager Queen Catherine, to be exact. The only wife of Henry VIII to have outlived him—number six.

A groom lifted me from my horse and settled me on the ground where my slippers crunched on gravel.

“There you are, my little lady.”

I flashed him the most ladylike smile I could muster at the age of eight, before turning to await Mrs.
Helen, my governess, as she, too, was helped from her horse. I tried not to giggle when she nearly lost her footing. Mrs. Helen was not used to riding such a long distance.

The great doors of the castle opened
, and with long, graceful strides, Thomas Seymour, Lord Sudeley, who was my older sister’s guardian, along with Her Grace, came to greet us. He was tall, with a handsome face, dark hair and eyes that sparkled with merriment. His clothing was ornate—a doublet embroidered with gold and studded with pearls—and cut to show off his figure.

“Lady Katherine, a pleasure it is to have you here.” He made a bow
, and I endeavored to curtsy just so. He came forward and chucked me on the chin. “You are a darling girl, aren’t you? Your sister is in our back gardens. Do you think you can find her?” His eyes shifted to Mrs. Helen. “Her Grace is not feeling well, so close to her time. Our midwife says it won’t be more than a week. She’s taken to her bed.”

I glanced from one adult to the other, wishing I knew what they were talking about. Worry wrinkled my brow.

“Run along, now, my lady.” Mrs. Helen straightened the skirts of my sky blue gown and made sure my hair was tucked properly in my pearl-studded cap, then she walked into the castle with Lord Sudeley. Maybe she could make the dowager queen feel better. She always made me feel better when I was ill.

I ran over the grounds, until I came to the garden gate and was ushered through by two guards. It was a magnificent place—bright, colorful flowers
of yellow, pink, white and red. Butterflies flitted back and forth, guiding us to a maze that begged to be explored. I was fascinated by it all and turned in a circle to take it all in.

But where was Jane?

I put a hand to my forehead, shielding my eyes from the summer sun.

“Jane!” I waved when I caught sight of my older sister
, whose attention was wrapped in her task of drawing in the garden, yellow skirts spread out around her in waves. She sat below a weeping willow tree, its branches brushing the ground like fingertips with each gentle breeze.

She glanced at me, her face lighting up. “Katherine! You came!” She rolled up her drawing and rushed toward me, skirts lifted in one hand, slippers sinking into the lush green grass of the lawn.

We embraced, and I took comfort in her strength. It’d been a little over a month since we’d last seen each other. Nothing was the same now that she’d moved out of Bradgate Manor to be fostered with the Dowager Queen Catherine. I missed her dearly. The nursery was empty without her. The only company I had now was that of our younger sister, Mary, a babe herself. Indeed, the whole of the manor seemed bereft without Jane’s presence. I prayed that when my time came to foster out, Mother and Father would let me go with Jane.

“Happy birthday, Kat. How does it feel to be eight summers?” Jane smiled with glee, most likely because she was eleven. She rocked on her heels and hid her drawing behind her back.

I tapped my chin and pursed my lower lip, thinking on the matter. “Not much different than seven, I suppose.”

Jane laughed and looked behind me. “Did Mother and Father come with you?”

I shook my head, knowing that Jane would be disappointed. “They had other matters to attend to.” They
always
had other matters to attend to—children were commodities and there was no great sense in idling time away on them before they were grown to a useful age. Even at such a tender age, I knew that. Still, there were others like the Dowager Queen who seemed to take delight in the household’s children. Shame colored my cheeks for thinking such disloyal thoughts regarding my parents.

“Oh,” Jane said, the light in her eyes dimming. “What of
our sister, Mary?”

I shook my head, sad to see her discontent. I wanted us to be happy not somber today
, as my visits were so few and far between—and it was a day to celebrate!

I peeked at the rolled parchment in her hand. “What were you drawing?”

“’Tis nothing, really.”

Soft footsteps behind us startled me.

I whirled in time to see our cousin, Princess Elizabeth. “Of that you can be sure… The sketchings of a mere eleven-year-old are nothing to be admired,” she said in husky tones.

At nearly fifteen and lithe of figure, she towered above us. Her hair, golden red, looked to be set afire by the sun. Her light eyes held a scorn in them I had not encountered before.
A gown of gold bedecked in jewels dazzled in the sun. Elegant and regal. She reminded me so much of a portrait of her father, Henry VIII, I’d seen in my mother’s solar—only much more feminine.

I straightened my spine in an effort to appear taller. The effect I hoped for was not achieved. “I did not see you there. Apologies, cousin.” I offered her a smile, trying, in spite of her disposition, to remain kind.

“Yes, well, I do not live with Queen Catherine any longer—like some others do.” If possible, her glare intensified on Jane. “So, I would not expect you to think I was here. But unlike some, I actually belong here, and love Her Grace, and so I’ve come to pay my respects and check on her health.”

Her tone was sour, her face pinched. And with her words I recalled a hastily scribbled note from Jane, something about trouble with Lord Sudeley, that he and Elizabeth had been caught doing something naughty.

“My living arrangements are no fault of my own.” Jane’s tone came off accusatory, and she straightened her shoulders.

I gasped that she would insinuate Elizabeth was to blame
for her current situation. Even if she were, but how was I to know? For certes, I’d done many naughty things. Mrs. Helen was always yelling at me about putting frogs in her pockets or salt in her milk.

Elizabeth reached out and yanked on a lock of Jane
’s golden hair that hung loose from her hood. Jane yelped, and Elizabeth snickered, reaching out to yank again.

I moved to stand between the two, to protect Jane, but Elizabeth only shoved me aside. I stumbled, my legs getting caught in my skirts
, and I fell with a grunt, my elbow striking a rock that protruded from the ground. I rubbed at the tender flesh in an effort to take away the sting.

“Do not make haste to intervene, Kat,” Elizabeth spat at me. Her hands were placed upon her slender hips, and she looked down at me as if I were a slug to be crushed. “
‘Twould be a waste of your useless time. I am the daughter of a great king, sister to our current king. You are both nothing to me.” Her gaze turned back to Jane. “You will never be anything. Just the Grey sisters. Pawns in the schemes of many.”

“At least our mother
has never been called a witch!” Jane taunted.

My mouth fell open at Jane’s insult, and I grew faint with fear. The hatred that sizzled in Elizabeth’s dark eyes was enough to give me nightmares. She struck out, her palm connecting with Jane’s cheek, leaving angry red stripes.