Three Maids for a Crown: A Novel of the Grey Sisters (17 page)

Was it possible for a woman to rule with her own wit and abilities? Most would say it was inconceivable. Even my beloved Dr. Aylmer, even the dowager queen, would have claimed that a woman ruling in her own right would be rebellion against God’s natural order. Yet I knew in my heart I must do it, or the Dudleys would rule in my stead.

I squared my shoulders as the barge neared Tower Wharf, the gates of the golden-hued fortress looming above me. The entrance to my new life, one in which I would hold the power to direct England in the way it should go.

The bargemen bustled about, mooring the craft. Beyond them I could see peers lined up in order of precedence, banners unfurling in Tudor green and white. This palace was mine now. I looked at Kat, remembering when she was small and would play at being a lady in Mrs. Ellen’s old finery. That was how I felt now.

I paused a moment to secure my balance—the tall platforms of cork chopines strapped to my shoes lent me height so the onlookers could see me. With great care I disembarked, four attendants bearing the cloth of estate over my head on poles. I saw my mother move behind me to bear my train. How odd it felt. I had spent my whole life trailing behind her. This was the first time proud Frances Brandon Grey, daughter to a French queen, entered a chamber where she was below me in rank.

She would never proceed before me again.

The weight of my gown bore down on my shoulders as I approached the lieutenant of the Tower, his soldiers lined at attention before him, the peers of my realm gathered near to honor this moment. Every man or woman who labored within these walls had mustered out to see this moment, one they would tell their grandchildren of in years to come: the day Queen Jane took possession of the Tower.

I caught sight of a mother boosting her gap-toothed girl up where she could see me. The child regarded me with her thumb tucked firmly in a rosy mouth. A confidence shone in that small, round face that I had never felt. For a moment, I envied them.

My chopine caught ever so slightly on a stone, and I turned my attention to reaching the dais that had been erected for the occasion so that I might speak to the crowd. Draped with green and white satin and streaming with pennons, the platform rose up before me, the royal coat of arms picked out in gilt, Tudor roses of red and white painted upon spires of wood for this festive day.

As I mounted the dais, I swept my gaze over the lords who were now my vassals, waiting in a place of honor. I noticed a certain emptiness among them. For an instant I felt troubled, a need to mark who was missing as if they were a puzzle I must fit together. Was this an ill omen? I wondered, then calmed myself. Events since Edward’s death had happened very fast. Perhaps the absent peers had not been able to reach London in time.

The lieutenant approached me and knelt. “I am Sir John Bridges, Your Majesty, lieutenant of the Tower. May I have the honor of welcoming you to your most noble palace.” He presented a huge iron key on his outstretched palms. The key to the Tower of London. To the throne itself. For a moment I forgot it was intended for me.

I took the length of iron in my hand, felt the heft of it. In the next instant His Grace of Northumberland swept the key from me. I could sense a stiffening of shoulders, disapproval among some of the lords. Even the woman with the little girl now frowned. Perhaps Northumberland felt the undercurrent in the mood of the crowd as well.

“Your Majesty, allow me to relieve you of this burden while you address your subjects,” he said smoothly, but I was not fooled—nor, from the look of it, was the crowd.

It is the last time you will take anything from me, Your Grace
, I vowed in silence. It might take time, but I would pry his greedy fingers from what was mine by right. I would not be afraid, even of him.

A herald trumpeted, a booming voice announcing: “Jane, by God’s grace, queen of England. God save the queen!”

Had the evidence of Northumberland’s power-grabbing ways muted their echoing cries? Or did I imagine it? My father’s shout, my mother’s seemed to pound against the very stones, but even my sisters’ voices seemed strained. Mary, small and silent, looked ill.

I remembered all that Catherine Parr had taught me. Her dread that she would end in the Tower as so many other people had before her: Anne Askew, Anne Boleyn, Catherine Howard. In the end the dowager queen’s beloved Thomas Seymour had been imprisoned there and was executed too, before his brother, the Duke of Somerset, died.

One thing was likely … before this was done, Mary Tudor, and perhaps Elizabeth as well, would join that grim roster. But today was supposed to be a celebration. I must try to remember to smile. I held my voice steady as I thanked the people for their loyalty, vowed with God’s help to be a just and wise queen, then entered the fortress.

———

T
he banquet seemed to go on for hours. Even pleasure-loving Kat seemed wilted on her bench nearby, while Mary looked as if her back were aching more than usual. When my ladies and I were about to retire from the great hall for the night, the duke and my father approached me. I saw both my sisters strain to listen. “We bring happy news,” Northumberland said. “The ambassador from Emperor Charles has just come to bring the emperor’s good wishes for your reign. Chapuys informs us that his master is encouraging Lady Mary to allow the transfer of power to occur peacefully. She is to submit to King Edward’s decision as an obedient subject should.”

I blinked, heartened, yet surprised. Friendship from Lady Mary’s own cousin? The man the pope himself calls the Holy Roman Emperor? I would have expected him to mount an armed campaign against me in hopes of restoring Catholicism to England. “I had not imagined I would secure his friendship.”

“Now that we have his support, the rest of the world is sure to follow,” Northumberland said.

“I am glad of it.”

A smug expression curled his lips. It chafed me. “In truth,” I said, “I am so pleased, I would hear such news from the ambassador myself in the future.”

“Forgive my concern on Your Majesty’s behalf. Of course I will bring Chapuys to you whenever I judge his news is important enough to trouble you.” Northumberland bowed with feigned obsequiousness. “I feared it would tire Your Majesty after such a long day.”

“It should never weary a queen to hear of an ally’s loyalty. Now we must be assured that the rest of the country shares the emperor’s view.”

“I doubt many in London will dare voice dissent.” Northumberland waved his hand in dismissal. “We have silenced one Gilbert Potter, apprentice to the master gunner at the Tower. The youth stirred discontent by calling out for the Lady Mary at St. Paul’s cross.”

I saw Kat stiffen.

“He was locked in the pillory and his ears were struck off,” Father said with satisfaction. Kat looked as if she might retch. Little Mary clapped her hands over her ears. I wanted to recoil as well, but I knew I must harden my nerves. I would not have my advisers citing this moment as one of the reasons I must abdicate power to a consort because a ruler must have a stronger stomach.

I lifted my chin. “We do what we must to retain order.” I looked at Kat, hoping she would heed my words. “Now, if there is nothing further, I would retire to my chambers.”

Northumberland bowed. “I will endeavor not to trouble Your Majesty any further. Allow me to send your husband to wait upon you.”

“Not tonight.” A sense of power I had never felt flowed through me, knowing that the formidable Duke of Northumberland must obey my command. As for my husband, I could not forbid him my bed for the rest of our marriage, but I could choose the timing of our encounters. I would not be completely helpless against his lust.

“Have a light repast brought to my privy chamber for the Lady Katherine, Lady Mary, and me,” I told Northumberland. “It has been weeks since I have enjoyed my sisters’ company.” But from the drawn looks of Kat and Mary, I doubted either one of them would be able to eat.

“I am certain your lady mother will wish to join you.”

Tension knotted between my shoulders, fear of my mother’s temper still pressed like a handprint into my muscle and bone. I could not speak freely to Kat and Mary if she was there. I might not have another chance to make things right between my sisters and me for a very long time. “Her Grace of Suffolk may attend us when we have been alone an hour. See that she joins us then.”

I turned aside, dismissing Northumberland as pointedly as I dared. From the corner of my eye, I saw the duke’s lids narrow just a fraction. He bowed to me again, though I made certain not to seem as if I noticed, as he summoned other attendants to do my bidding.

Once in my chambers, my ladies stripped me of the heavy state gown and swathed me in simpler garb. When they finished, they carried the day’s finery to be brushed and aired and returned to the royal wardrobe. I motioned Kat and Mary to join me in my privy chamber. The gentleman usher closed the doors behind us, secluding us together, as we had been so many times before.

My gaze fixed on the tapestry depicting a scene from the Greek myth of Demeter, goddess of the harvest, her arms outstretched to her daughter Persephone, swept to the kingdom of Hades, already beyond her reach.

The bond between Kat, Mary, and me could not be as natural and heedless as it had been. I knew that in the rational part of my brain. Still, my heart had to believe I could reach through the barrier to our childhoods.

“I am so relieved to be away from all those people,” I confessed, trying to recapture the ease of earlier confidences. “Now it can be just the three of us, at least for a little while.”

Neither sister said anything for a long moment. Then Kat spoke: “If it pleases Your Majesty.” Her reply pinched, so lacking in its usual warmth. Wistful, I remembered other times when we had been reunited after a spell apart: her eager chatter and abundant hugs had been bestowed with the generosity and charm that only she, of the three of us, possessed.

But my hurt faded as I turned to face her and recognized the expression I had seen whenever she had witnessed cruelty or violence, as if, merely by beholding it, she had suffered the same crippling blow. I knew what had wounded her this night.

“I can see you are troubled, Kat,” I said gently. She started to protest, but I cut her off. “Do not bother trying to deny it. I know you too well. It is the tale Northumberland told about the apprentice Gilbert Potter.”

Kat pressed her knuckles to her mouth.

“I am sorry if Northumberland upset you, but you understand, there was nothing else to be done. We cannot have rebels drawn to Cousin Mary’s cause by allowing public defiance. Making an example of this boy is more merciful in the end than allowing his poison to spread to others who would also have to suffer.”

I saw Kat’s throat work. She nodded.

“I wish I could wipe it from your mind. Since I cannot, tell me something happy. How have you passed the time with your Henry? When I received the message from His Grace of Northumberland ordering me to the marriage bed, my greatest comfort was imagining you must be receiving the same command. How happy you must have been to get the chance to welcome Henry to your bed.”

I expected to draw a smile from Kat—trusting the quicksilver shift of her emotions. She had always preferred happy thoughts to sad ones, turning to joy as naturally as flowers turn to sun. But my sister regarded me, bewildered. “The marriage bed? We received no such message from His Grace. When did you receive the duke’s permission?”

I could not conceal my astonishment, or unease. “Northumberland sent word weeks ago, when I was at the old abbey.”

“Perhaps the devil duke was too busy making Jane queen to send a message to you, Kat,” Mary suggested.

“That is not the case. I cannot count the number of messengers that came and went between the Herberts and London in the past weeks.”

“Then why would Northumberland not send word to bid you and Henry consummate your marriage?” I posed the question, more thinking aloud than searching for an answer. “Surely the duke would want to seal all the unions he made between powerful families at the same time. Northumberland’s goal in wedding you to Pembroke’s son was to consolidate support behind my throne. It would be in the duke’s best interest to make that alliance unbreakable. He would not want Pembroke to be able to change sides if anything went awry. The question is: who stands to benefit by keeping you and Henry from becoming in truth man and wife? The Earl of Pembroke?”

I could see Kat’s resistance to the words. No Tudor was more stubborn than she when her romantic notions were in danger of being smashed. “You are wrong in this, Jane. My father-in-law knows how eager Henry and I are to love each other properly. He even commiserated with me, saying he can guess how painful it must be for us to remain apart.”

I paced nearer the fire, rubbing my arms. When had the room grown so cold? The food that the servants had brought for us lay on the table untouched; the fat on the roast duck had congealed on the gold platter and left it cloudy, obscured like Pembroke’s motives. I thought of the earl’s face, its cast cruder than most courtiers’, his expression sly.

“I do not like it here,” Mary said in a small voice. “I want to go home.”

“You cannot go home,” Kat said sharply. “None of us can. At least not before Jane is crowned.”

“Jane is queen. She can make them let me go.”

I started to touch Mary’s shoulder, then remembered her reaction the last time and let my hand fall to my side. “It is too dangerous for you to go right now. There are soldiers on the road trying to find Cousin Mary and people confused like Gilbert Potter was.”

“I do not care! I want to go to Bradgate, where I can talk to Jennet and make her not be afraid.”

“Jennet?” I puzzled, too distracted to remember who that might be.

“The poppet you made me. Hettie said I cannot even hold Jennet while I am with you, but I hid her in my petticoats.”

For once my patience wore thin, unraveled by my own uncertainty and confusion. But I tried to master myself before I dealt a stinging reply:
What good can a doll do, pitted against the wickedness of a man like Northumberland?
Instead, I kept my voice level.