The Manner of Amy's Death (6 page)

      “When we arrived
here there was no one to greet us,” says Jane.  “We are the only occupants of the house apart from the servants.  I thought we had been lured into a trap, empty house and everything.  I feared that Mary Tudor had sent us here.  I …. I thought she planned to murder me.”

      So does Jane have any idea of the real reason she’s here, I’m wondering.  Surely she must suspect something, and yet ….

      “Do you have any news of the King,” asks Amy.

      “Edward died last night.  He complained about feeling faint and just died in Henry’s arms
as they said a prayer together,” says Mary.

     “God rest his soul,” Amy and I murmur in unison.

      “Amen,” says Jane.

      So Jane does know of the King’s death.

      “And now?” says Amy.

      “We wait for the Duke,” says Mary simply.

       We go into the palace and enter a chamber where the servants have laid out platters of cold meats and bread.  Amy’s face brightens considerably.

      “I think we should all go to the chapel before supper,” says Jane, “And offe
r some prayers for God’s guidance in this.  We need not pray for Edward.  He died in faith and will receive his reward in heaven.”  Amy’s face is a picture but she can hardly refuse.  Jane is soon to be her Queen!

      We walk along to the little chapel.  The walls are bare and free of pictures and the altar is a simple wooden table by the wall.  There are no candles or silverware in the new evangelical style of worship.  Jane has the new prayer book, written in English on Edward’s instructions.  She leads the prayers and we pray on our knees for a long time, Amy shuffling uncomfortably.  I wonder if her thoughts are straying back to the supper table!

      Finally Jane says Archbishop Cranmer’s beautiful evening prayer, “Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord, and, by Thy great mercy, defend us from all perils and danger of this night.  For the love of thy only Son, our Saviour, Jesus Christ our Lord.”  For a while we remain frozen in time, motionless and silent as we reflect on the meaning.  It’s a prayer that we all appreciate for we are in great peril at this uncertain time.

      When we get back to th
e chamber where our supper was laid out, it’s disappeared!  Amy is very annoyed but Jane remarks that she wasn’t hungry anyway so we have to go along with that.  And it’s no use complaining to the servants.  They will have assumed, as is the custom, that we have finished with the dishes and that what remains is theirs.  Our supper will have been consumed some time ago but not by us!

      No one feels like playing cards and we have no needle work to keep us employed. 
We walk up and down the Long Gallery a few times talking quietly and then retire to bed.  Mary is sleeping in the chamber next to Jane and Amy and I are sharing a bed in the next chamber.  A woman servant is summoned to help Jane with her clothes and then she offers her services to us but we don’t need her.  Amy and I can help each other.

      Syon, like Somerset House, is clean and new and barely used.  The garderobes
or privies smell sweet even though it is now mid summer and Amy quickly checks our bed for bed bugs, whisking back the covers.  Normally we see several of them running underneath the mattress ready to plague us with bites later in the night while we are sleeping; but here all is new and there are no fleas or bugs.  We heave a sigh of relief; we will have a good night’s sleep.  We climb into bed in our shifts, our only items of underwear.

      Somehow I doubt that Jane will sleep soundly tonight.

      The next day we arise early.  Amy is ravenously hungry and determined not to miss her breakfast which, fortunately, is substantial.  Almost immediately things start to happen as people arrive at Syon.  First is the Duke of Northumberland himself.  I have to say that he is very affectionate towards his children and that the Dudleys are all close and loving towards each other.  He gives his married daughter, Mary Sidney, a warm embrace and kisses her fondly on the cheek.  Amy and I get a salutary bow and we curtsey in return.

      Other members of the Privy Council arrive, Pembroke,
Northampton, Arundel and Huntingdon.  When all are assembled Northumberland, who has been talking to his daughter all this time, ushers Jane into a chamber and the Council members follow.  Now Amy seizes her opportunity to find out the latest news.

    
“What did the Duke say, Mary?”

      “The good news is that the Mayor of London and the city magistrates agreed to support Jane
only yesterday morning at Greenwich, where the body of the King now lies.  They have sworn an oath of allegiance to her.  Most members of the Council also said they will acknowledge Jane’s right to the throne and the ones that disagree say they will not cause trouble.”

      “So all is well then?”

      “Not quite,” says Mary.  “The imperial ambassador, Renard, and others have leaked the news of the King’s death and now word is spreading around London before we are ready to make an announcement.   And Robert arrived at Hunsdon to discover that the Lady Mary Tudor had escaped to Cambridge on the pretence that she was fleeing a plague of sickness at Hunsdon.  Now Robert and his men will have to follow her across the countryside if they wish to apprehend her.”

      From the chamber
where Northumberland and the other Councillors are talking to Jane there is the sound of voices in discussion.  The Duke emerges and asks for Jane’s mother to be brought.  She soon arrives with the Duchess of Northumberland and Northampton’s wife who enter the chamber with the others.  Eventually they all emerge smiling, except for Jane who’s as serious as ever.  She does not acknowledge her friends of the previous evening as we curtsey.  Every man present kneels before her.

     
The following day Mary Sidney tells us that Northumberland is to address a large gathering of members of the Privy Council, nobles and their wives here at Syon.  The Duke will formally state Edward’s wishes for the succession and will offer Jane the crown in front of all the assembled gathering.  And Jane, of course, will accept.

      Unfortunately Amy and I will not be present on this momentous occasion.  As Jane and her followers make their way to the Great Hall for supper, Mary Sidney prevents us from joining them.

      “I’m sorry, Amy and Kate,” she says, “Father has asked me to tell you that your loyalty will not be forgotten and that you are to go back to Somerset House immediately where you will receive further instructions tomorrow or on Monday.”

      Amy does not need to collect her jewellery from her little box upstairs;
not to be overshadowed, she’s wearing the lot!  She turns abruptly on her heel and I follow her.

The Tower

Even by Amy’s standards I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so annoyed.  She’s always felt that Robert’s parents regard her as far beneath them and this
confirms it.  She’s been excluded from all the ceremony and celebration at Syon.

      “Had Robert been here,” she complains bitterly, “They would have been obliged to include both of us.  They wish me to know I am nothing without him.  Had he married the daughter of a nobleman it would have been different.”

      To make matters worse no one seems to know where Robert is or what he’s doing.  Amy’s only consolation seems to be that Elizabeth has remained at her house at Hatfield apparently and is just as excluded as we are.

      When we walk through the door at Somerset House there’s a buzz of excitement among the servants.

      “Oh Mistress Katherine,” says Bess, the house keeper, “Do you know the news?  The poor King has died and Lady Mary will now be Queen.  There’s talk of nothing else in the city.”

      Yes, well!  What am I to say to that?

      “Except that,” says Joan, the house maid, “Some people,” she lowers her voice, “Say that the Duke of Northumberland has a plot to make his own son, Lord Guildford, king!”

       Oh no!  It’s as bad as that!

       “Don’t be silly, Joan,” I say, “That’s foolish talk.  How can the Duke make Guildford king when he has no line of succession to the throne?”

     Amy orders
supper for us.  It’s very late and we’re worn out with considering all the complexities and uncertainties of Northumberland’s plot.  After supper we retire to bed.

      The following morning
is Sunday so we go to Paul’s Cross to hear the Bishop of London, Nicholas Ridley, preach.  It’s an attempt on our behalf to ascertain the mood in the city.  Far away from Syon where Northumberland has made a speech to a submissive group of councillors and nobles declaring Edward’s wishes for the succession and the right of Jane’s claim to the throne, Ridley shockingly preaches, to a very different crowd, that Mary and Elizabeth are bastards.  The congregation is not impressed by his language.  His support of Jane falls on deaf ears and there are mutterings and murmurings among the people.  

      “Northumberland’s dog,” says one man.

      “His downfall is coming,” says another.

      Amy and I slip away before we are questioned.  Despite the guards standing around to protect Ridley we feel very vulnerable.  Even the evangelicals seem to opt for Mary so where will our support come from?  We have a very bad feeling.

      Mary Sidney comes to Somerset House that evening.  She tells us what has happened at Syon but we do not say what we’ve been hearing in the city.  Apparently, says Mary, it came as a shock to Jane to be offered the crown of England for she fell down in a fit of crying.

      “That doesn’t sound like Jane!” says Amy cynically.  “She may be only sixteen but she’s tougher than that.”

      Privately I agree.  There’s a tale that Jane once
entered the house of the Lady Mary Tudor with her mother, the Duchess of Suffolk, and insulted, to Mary’s face and in her own home, Mary’s manner of worship with candles and ornaments on the altar.  Despite the fact she was still a young girl, she was blunt to the point of rudeness and her mother was left to apologise.  No; Jane is not the fragile weeping sort.  More likely she made a calculated, dramatic and public gesture to express her own reluctance to take the crown.  That way she would have plenty of witnesses that she had not wished for it should everything go wrong later!  Hm! Crafty Jane!

      Mary tells us that everyone kne
lt before Jane and then there’d been a huge banquet where the new Queen sat underneath the panoply of state, a huge cloth made of rich silks and supported on poles.  Amy’s face darkens as she remembers the insult of being sent home the previous evening and thus missing all this.  Mary, noticing, says, “Amy, the Duke my father had such limited accommodation at Syon it wasn’t possible for all of us to stay.  However he wishes you to attend a dinner at Durham Place at midday tomorrow when Jane will dine with us dressed in the royal robes now being laid out for her at Westminster Palace.  After the dinner we will all follow her to the Tower to await her coronation.”

      Amy brightens considerably at this.  “What about Kat
e?” she asks.

      “
Katherine can come too.  The Duke wants a great show of unity for Jane.”

      When Mary’
s gone Amy rushes to choose a suitable gown.  She has plenty to choose from.  I have her old ones but, with Amy’s love of clothes, this is no hardship.  We are both very fortunate and wear all our wealth conspicuously, showing off our rich clothing and our jewellery.

      The following day is Monday, 10
th
July.  Jane, or Queen Jane as we must now call her, is brought down the Thames from Syon to Westminster Palace where she changes into her royal robes.  We dress in our finest gowns and make our way to nearby Durham Place where we prepare to greet her.  The Duke seems particularly agitated over something but he recovers his composure when Queen Jane arrives.

      All the
Dudleys are there with the exception of Robert who is still pursuing Mary in Norfolk.  The banquet is sumptuous and Durham Place is a magnificent setting for the young Queen to start the path to her reign. After we have dined, the Privy Council meets to discuss urgent matters and then we make our way in procession to the wharf where the royal barge is waiting to take Jane to the Tower where she will await her coronation.  Amy and I, together with other ladies of the court, take one of the boats that will form a flotilla of tiny wherries and covered barges, all accompanying Jane.  There are many onlookers but they are all ominously silent.  The people have guessed what’s happening and there’s no cheering.

      At the wharf by t
he Tower, Northumberland, with other members of the Privy Council, is already waiting on the steps to greet the Queen.  It takes a long time for the boats to land their privileged cargo and it takes even longer for the procession to form.  Two hours after setting off from Durham Place we stand at the huge entrance gates to the Tower of London.  Crowds are watching the display of nobility and courtiers in silence and, of course, there has, as yet, been no official announcement. 

     
I cannot help reflecting that Jane cuts a fairly insignificant figure despite her royal robes and ermine.  Had it been Elizabeth or Mary they would surely have paraded in front of the crowd on magnificent prancing horses, demonstrating their strength and horsemanship, proving themselves equal to any man.