Текст книги "Queen of This Realm"
Автор книги: Jean Plaidy
Соавторы: Jean Plaidy
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She laughed but I could not join in her merry mood because I was thinking of poor Henry Howard in the Tower where my own mother had lodged before her death.
I was quite fond of Hatfield then, although later I came to regard it as a prison. There was an air of peace about the ivy-covered walls, and Edward kept splendid state in the lofty banqueting hall. When we dined there I always sat beside him and we would talk seriously together, for Edward, who was as aware of the growing tension as I was and far more frightened of it, was becoming very serious indeed.
I heard that the King was at Whitehall, the Duke of Norfolk and the Earl of Surrey still in the Tower, and the Queen in constant attendance upon the King who could not bear her out of his sight these days.
It was December when visitors came to Hatfield. Kat saw the party in the distance and hastened to find me that she might be the first with the news. We went up to one of the turrets to watch the riders approach.
I said: “I'll guess they are coming to tell us we are going to Court and I must warn Edward of their approach.”
“Yes, you two should go down to greet them,” replied Kat.
We had a shock instead of a welcome. Our visitors were guards who had come to escort us—not to Whitehall as we had thought—but Edward to Hertford Castle and me to Enfield. We were to be separated! We protested with horror at being parted but were assured that these were the King's orders and must be obeyed without question.
How different was that Christmas from what I had anticipated! Poor Edward had been so unhappy at our parting and, since he was younger, he was less able to control his grief. I wrote a little note to tell him that I was as unhappy as he was by our forced separation and I was thinking of him all the time. He wrote such a tender letter back. I still have it.
“The change of place, dear sister, does not so much vex me as your departure from me…It is a comfort to my regret that I hope shortly to see you again if no accident intervenes…”
Tragedy intervened. We saw each other, but only briefly.
In January I heard that the Earl of Surrey had been beheaded on Tower Hill. This depressing knowledge did not help me to bear the separation from my brother. Poor reckless Surrey! How prodigal people were of life…in risking it and taking it. It seemed to me such a trivial matter to die for. Oh, but I knew it was more than arms on an escutcheon. It was the deadly rivalry for power between two leading families—the upstart Seymours and the ancient one of Howard. The Seymours were in the ascendant. Of course they were. The Seymour brothers were the uncles of the King to be.
To my great joy Edward was brought to Enfield.
It was the last day of January, cold and frosty, when Edward arrived in the company of Edward Seymour, Earl of Hertford, and Sir Anthony Browne. I was amazed to see these two together in apparent harmony because Sir Anthony was a firm adherent of the Catholic Faith, and Hertford, because of his powerful position in the country, was the man whom followers of the Reformed Faith looked upon to lead them.
As soon as they arrived I was summoned to the hall. Edward was standing there with Hertford on one side of him and Sir Anthony Browne on the other.
“Edward,” I cried, forgetting ceremony. I ran to him and we embraced.
The two men stood silently watching us and neither of us cared whether they considered this a breach of etiquette. There are moments when such matters can be forgotten and affection given full rein.
It was Hertford who made the announcement.
“My lord and lady, I have grave news for you. Your father, our great and good King Henry the Eighth, has died in his Palace of Whitehall.” Then he fell to his knees and taking Edward's hand cried: “God save the King.”
Edward looked startled. Then he turned to me. I put my arms about him and we wept. We had lost our father. I was old enough to know that we were fast moving into danger. I was not yet fourteen years old but I felt that I had been learning how to wade carefully in treacherous waters. But Edward… poor little Edward…to be so young… and a king!
We were crying bitterly and my tears were more for my frail little brother than for the great and glorious, cruel and ruthless yet magnificent King who had just passed out of this life.
MY LIFE CHANGED FROM THAT TIME. ONE THOUGHT WAS uppermost in my mind. It bewildered me—but not for long. It was so dazzling, so truly wonderful, so remote—and yet it was possible. One day I could be Queen of England.
After having been known as the bastard daughter of the King, of no great significance, scorned and kept in mended garments, sent from place to place at the convenience of others, I had become of no small consequence. Henceforth people would treat me in a different manner. I began to see it immediately. I noticed the covert looks. Be careful, said their eyes. She could be Queen one day.
I was savoring what a glorious sensation power can be. I was being given just that faintest glimmer of that which my father had enjoyed since the days when he was eighteen years old and became the King. To rule a country– a great country—what a destiny! And it could be mine.
This new state had come about because of the conditions of my father's will. I was to receive three thousand pounds a year—riches for me—and a marriage portion of ten thousand pounds. True, I could only marry with the consent of the King—my little brother Edward now—and his Council. Edward would be easy enough to handle, but what of the Council? No matter. There was no question of marriage yet. But if any man tried to marry either my elder half sister Mary Tudor or myself without the consent of the Council, serious charges would be brought against him and my sister and me. That did not greatly concern me, for being not yet fourteen I had no mind to risk any lives for the sake of a romantic marriage.
The crown, of course, would go to Edward. If he died without heirs, it passed to Mary; and if Mary should die, then I was the next in line, although the Catholics believed that my father had never really been married to my mother and I was a bastard! As this will was made a year or so before my father's death, he had stated that before Mary or myself would come any heirs he should have through Katharine Parr—adding ominously “or any future queen.”
I could not stop myself from summing up the situation, turning it this way and that. Edward was very young and frail. I wondered whether he would marry and could be expected to get healthy offspring. Mary? Well, Mary was thirty-one and unmarried. Would she find a husband? Most certainly. And if she bore a son, what hope had I?
So I warned myself again and again that I must not be overdazzled by even the remote prospect. I must rejoice that it was a possibility and prepare myself to play a waiting game.
My father was buried at Windsor and his heavy body had to be lowered into the grave by means of a vise worked by sixteen of the strongest men of the Yeomen of the Guard. The members of the King's household had stood around his grave, the Queen's old enemy Gardiner with the Lord Chamberlain and Lord Treasurer among them. In accordance with custom they broke their staves over their heads and threw them down into the coffin.
So passed the great King who had astonished the world by breaking with Rome and bringing about the biggest religious controversy ever known, who had had his will all his life, who had married six wives and murdered two of them—and God knows there might have been a third victim but for her adroitness and his failing health—all this and yet they mourned him. Was it because in spite of all his cruelty and his ruthlessness he showed great strength? Above all things, it seems, men admire strength. He was sentimental too and he had a conscience which would never let him rest. What strange contradictory characteristics were his! Yet, withal, men mourned his passing and turned regretful, fearful eyes to the new boy King.
There was a macabre story about something which had happened just before his burial. Kat told me this hesitatingly, pretending she could not tell and having to be forced to do so.
“People are whispering about it,” she said. “I cannot say that it is true, but there are those who saw—”
“Come on, Kat,” I said more imperiously than ever for was I not a potential heiress to a throne? “I command you to tell me.”
Kat raised her eyes to the ceiling, a frequent gesture.
“And I dare not disobey my lady's command. On the way to Windsor the cortége broke its journey at Sion House and there the body rested in the chapel. It was at Sion House, remember, that poor Katharine Howard stayed when they were taking her to the Tower. Poor child, they say she was almost mad with fear, for did she not have the example of her cousin to remind her of what lay in store for her? Well, the coffin burst, for the King's body was too great for its fragile wood, and the King's blood was spilt on the chapel floor. Now this is the shocking part. Are you sure you want me to go on? Very well. A dog was seen to run forward and lick the blood clean and although they tried to draw him away he snarled and refused to budge until there was not a speck of blood on the floor.”
“Kat, where did you hear such a tale?”
“My dear lady, it is being whispered throughout the land. You do not know of this because you were not then born but when the King was thinking of ridding himself of his first Queen, one Friar Peyto who cared nothing for what might befall him stood in his pulpit and declared that the King was as Ahab and that the dogs in like manner would lick his blood.”
“What a terrible story!”
“Tis terrible times we live in, sweet lady. The Lady of Aragon suffered greatly and was there any one of the King's wives who did not? Your own beautiful mother so desperate… And we saw the terror of the last Queen for ourselves, you and I.”
“Kat, how dare you talk so about my great father!”
“Only because commanded to do so by one who may well herself be mistress of us all one day.”
Kat was smiling at me, and because she was Kat and said such words I could forgive her anything.
I told her she was the most indiscreet person I knew and I hoped she did not chatter to others as she did to me. She was as excited as I was about my prospects and being less thoughtful and logical than I, she believed that I was almost on the throne.
“The little King is very sickly,” she said. “He won't make old bones. And as for Mary, I sometimes think she does not enjoy good health. Whereas you, my precious one, are full of vigor. I said to John Ashley only the other day, ‘Our girl is destined for greatness. I feel it in my bones.'”
“You are the most foolish creature I ever knew and I wonder that I love you. If any heard you express such sentiments, what do you think they would say of you? You would be accused of ill-wishing the King and you know I love Edward dearly.”
“I don't think John Ashley wants to be rid of me yet,” said Kat flippantly, “so he won't betray me. Nor will you, my lady, for I cannot see you ever reaching that stage when you would not want your Kat there to look after you—throne or not.”
“Oh Kat, do have a care,” I said, laughing.
She would take no heed. It was not long before she was talking about a marriage for me.
“Well, 'tis a merry state and one necessary to a woman.”
“All women?” I asked.
“All women, my clever lady.”
“I am not so sure. What of my mother? Do you think she thought what a blessed state it was when she was on her way to Tower Green? Did Katharine Howard think it so when she ran screaming through the gallery? And what of Katharine Parr when she was confined to her bed in mortal peril? Do you believe they thought it then?”
“You are talking of queens.”
“Queens—or those who may be queens—must surely take special care before they embark on matrimony.”
“Marriages are usually made for queens, dear lady.”
“I have a fancy that I shall make my own, if indeed I ever decide to make one.”
“I know one who would be very happy to take you.”
“Who is that?”
She was conspiratorial and her voice had sunk to a whisper. She put her lips to my ear.
I flushed. I could not pretend that I had not noticed him and that I did not think him one of the most exciting men I had ever seen. He was tall, extremely good-looking and more than that had an air of gallantry and indefinable charm. There was only one man at Court who could fit that description: Thomas Seymour.
“Ah, my lady,” went on the incorrigible Kat, “I see that you are inclined to look with favor on this very desirable gentleman.”
“You see much which is not there, Kat Ashley,” I reprimanded her. “And how do you know he might have plans regarding me?”
“Because I have eyes, my lady, and I have seen his own linger on you with much affection.”
Was it so? And how did Thomas Seymour regard me? When he looked at me with that affection which Kat had perceived, did he see me wearing a crown? Was he, brother to that very Jane who had supplanted my mother, uncle to the frail King, looking out for his future?
“If he asked for your hand, Princess, would you take him?”
“You are impertinent, Kat Ashley,” I said and I slapped her face.
She put her hand to her cheek. “And you, my lady, are hasty with your hands,” she said.
I put my arms round her and kissed her. “I'm sorry I did that, but you can be very aggravating sometimes. I do not want to hear any more about Thomas Seymour.”
“Do you not?” said Kat. “Shall we then discuss the weather or the new blue silk you have…or your embroidery?”
“You would be safer talking of such things.”
She laughed and I laughed with her and she went on to tell me that Sir Thomas Seymour had been created Baron of Sudeley and made Lord High Admiral. “The late King left him two hundred pounds in his will and I verily believe, my lady, that had His Majesty lived there would have been the honor of marriage into the King's family for him. The King loved Thomas Seymour … and who would not love such a fine, witty and handsome gentleman?”
“I believe there are some who do not love him.”
“Oh, that brother of his—the Duke of Somerset if you please now. He is the big man. He has the King in his charge. They say Thomas is a little jealous of his brother.”
“They say, Kat? It seems to me that it is Kat Ashley who says this and that, and she is the very mistress of gossip throughout this land.”
“And who profits from what I discover more than my lady?”
That was how we talked and there was hardly a day when Thomas Seymour's name was not mentioned between us.
I had to admit I was thinking a great deal of him. I had known for some time that he was interested in me… even before my father's death. He was my brother's favorite uncle. I believed that Edward was not very fond of the elder Seymour. Edward Seymour, Duke of Somerset to give him his newly acquired title, was a man of immense ambition and extreme ruthlessness. Now that my father was dead, he had become Protector of England and was in a position of complete authority. It was natural that Thomas, the younger brother and favorite uncle of the young King, could not happily accept a subordinate position.
However the Seymours were the important family in the country now. They had nothing to fear from the Howards. Surrey had been beheaded and the Duke, his father, was still in the Tower; his death warrant was to have been signed on the night before the King died, but the King being too weak to add his signature to the documents, the execution had been waived, though Norfolk continued a prisoner.
Almost immediately after that conversation with Kat, a letter arrived through her from Thomas Seymour. She brought it to me with an air of intrigue, and when I opened it and saw from whom it came, my hands trembled.
It was brief and to the point. The Admiral had long admired me. He was a little older than I but age was unimportant when love reigned. He admired my beauty more than that of any other and was asking me to give him my hand in marriage.
I was overcome with emotion. I had to admit I had been a little fascinated by the Admiral. He was the most attractive man at Court and, having been a person of little importance for so long, I was very susceptible to admiration. I was not beautiful enough to be sure of my attractions. I had youth, of course, and a fine clear skin, milk-white and fair; I had good reddish hair, the same color as my father's, and I resembled him in my appearance. He was a handsome man but what is handsome in a man is not necessarily attractive in a woman. I had lively tawny eyes to match my hair but my eyelashes were too fair; my nose was long rather than short, but I was thankful that I had not inherited my father's mouth, which was small and cruel and had been really the most expressive of his features. I wished I had inherited my mother's appearance with the attributes of my father—not all, of course—but the best, those qualities which had made him a good sovereign. I think I had to some extent, but how I wished I had my mother's ravishing and singular beauty! Perhaps because of a certain lack of assurance as far as my personal charms were concerned I always wanted to hear them proclaimed. So with Thomas Seymour's letter before me I tried to convince myself that I was loved for myself and that his affections had nothing to do with the fact that I was the King's daughter who might one day inherit a crown.
Kat was in a state of twittering excitement and tried to get me to reveal the contents of the letter. I would not, but she guessed. She went on and on talking of the good looks of the Admiral, how my father had singled him out for favor, and how she was sure that had the King lived he would have betrothed me to him by now.
I listened and thought about the Admiral. My brother Edward was very fond of him. He would certainly have the favor of the new King. But Edward was in leading strings and it was not the Admiral who was holding them but his brother. There were moments when I allowed myself to dream silly girlish dreams, when I thought how pleasant it would be to listen to the Admiral's compliments and allow myself to believe that I was the most desirable girl in England.
But there was another side to my nature—that shrewd observer who had never allowed any event of importance to be passed over. I hesitated while I brooded on what the future might bring and at last I came to my conclusions. I would not be fourteen until September. I had a great deal to learn and I was in a most unusual position.
I took up my pen and wrote to Thomas Seymour telling him that I had neither the years nor the inclination to think of marriage at this time, and I was surprised that anyone should mention the subject to me at a time when I was entirely taken up with mourning my father to whom I owed so much. I intended to devote at least two years to wearing black for him and mourning him; and even when I arrived at years of discretion, I wished to retain my liberty without entering into any matrimonial engagement.
When I had written it, I read it through once and hastily sealed it. Then it was dispatched.
I had moved with my household to the Dormer Palace of Chelsea which my father had built after he had possession of the Manor of Chelsea. It was a charming place with gardens running down to the river. I was looking forward to being there with my stepmother for we had always been good friends and I was delighted that the Council had decided that she should have charge of me.
I was feeling very excited. Ever present was the realization that I could have a glorious future and in the meantime I would have the attentions of the most handsome man at Court. It was a pleasant prospect. But my good sense insisted that it would be folly to agree to any engagement with Thomas Seymour. If the Council were against it—and I felt sure that Somerset would never agree to it—we should both be in trouble. The Admiral was a daring sailor and might be ready to risk that sort of trouble for the sake of a crown. I was not. I was vulnerable because I was so young but I had acquired one bit of wisdom inasmuch as I realized I was too young and inexperienced to put myself in a dangerous situation. Perhaps I was by nature cautious– the opposite I was sure of my dashing Admiral. But I had seen what folly women exposed themselves to for love.
Kat tried to persuade me to accept him with constant references to his charms. He was adventurous both at sea and in the ladies” boudoirs. “You'll have a very accomplished lover, my lady,” she said, and although I told her that I most certainly would not have him and had written him to tell him so, she did not believe me. “My lord is not a man to take no for an answer,” she declared. “We shall see…”
She talked and I listened—I must admit, with mounting excitement.
“He'll come courting, I know it,” she said.
And I realized that although I was averse to marriage, to be courted seemed to me a rather pleasant and exciting pastime.
My stepmother was delighted to receive me.
I complimented her on her appearance for she looked younger than I had ever seen her look before and there was a brightness about her. She looked like a girl though she must be thirty-four or -five years old. Then I considered how she had lived as Queen of England, the butt of my father's irritations; I thought of her dressing that leg which must have been revolting at times, of the manner in which he used to put it on her lap and expect her to nurse it; I remembered most of all that hysterical fit of weeping in her bedchamber when she must have felt the axe poised ready to descend on her defenseless neck. No wonder she had become young again.
What an example of the joys of single blessedness! For the first time in her life she was free. She said how happy she was to have me with her. We would sit together over our embroidery and she would talk to me of the Reformed Faith just as she did when Edward, Jane Grey and I were in the royal household. It was not such dangerous talk now for the Reformed Party was in the ascendant. Sometimes she mentioned Edward and shook her head over him. He was so young for such responsibility.
I replied that Edward was not allowed to have much responsibility. There were those who told him exactly what to do.
“Meaning Edward Seymour,” said my stepmother, her lips tightening a little.
“Who else?” I asked. “Who commands the King but his uncles and their family?”
“It is Lord Hertford—now the Duke of Somerset—who sets himself up as master of us all,” she replied. “And his wife would do the same if she could. I never could abide Anne Stanhope—a greedy, ambitious woman, highly suitable for Somerset, I dare swear. Oh, it is my lord Somerset who is our King now. I have always thought that my lord Admiral should share the responsibility of looking after the King. I am sure he would prefer Thomas to Edward Seymour.”
I agreed that he would.
My stepmother had grown pink with annoyance. She really did dislike the Duchess.
“Do you know,” she went on, “I verily believe the elder Seymours plan to marry their daughter to the King.”
“They would never do that,” I said. “He should have someone royal.”
“They say how interesting it would be to have another Jane Seymour as the Queen.”
“Jane Seymour the first was not so fortunate,” I cried. “She bore Edward but did not live to see him grow up.”
“Edward is very fond of Jane Grey,” said my stepmother tentatively. “She is such a clever, good girl.”
“Oh yes,” I replied with a touch of asperity, “she is a model of virtue.” I was a little tired of hearing of the brilliant scholastic attainments of Jane Grey. I could challenge her in that field, of course, but I could not match her saintliness and it was that which irritated me. Jane Grey has no spirit, I used to say.
My stepmother understood and laughed at me. “Edward thinks so, I am sure,” she said.
“I wish I could see him more often,” I went on. “I wish he would come here and we could all be as we used to be.”
“He is the King now, Elizabeth.”
“Well, why should he not live with the Dowager Queen?”
“If he were a little younger…”
“Everyone is saying if only he were a little older! Poor Edward, I don't think he is half as happy as he was when we were all together.”
And so we talked and very often I was tempted to tell her of Thomas Seymour's proposal and that I had seen fit to refuse him. But I never did. Something seemed to warn me to keep it to myself.
One evening Kat was seated at the window. It was dark and I was just on the point of retiring to bed. She stood up suddenly in a state of great excitement and cried: “My lady, I saw him!”
“Saw whom?” I demanded.
Her eyes were round with wonder as she whispered: “My Lord Admiral.”
“At this hour! I don't believe it.”
I was at the window. She went on whispering: “I thought he was going in at the main door, but he moved away—round to the side…”
“I believe you dream of the Admiral. Really, Kat, if Mr Ashley knew he could be jealous, and certainly very angry that his wife should talk in such an unseemly fashion of another man.”
“Oh, he would know it is not for me that the Admiral comes into the Palace.”
“And suppose it was the Admiral? For whom should he come sneaking into the Palace?”
“For one fair lady…my lady Elizabeth… whom one day I am going to call Her Majesty.”
“Kat, you are mad. If you talk so, you will find yourself lodged in the Tower one fine day. Have you no sense? How could you have seen him at this hour?”
“I would know him anywhere.”
“Let us wait and watch awhile. If he has come calling at this time of the evening, my stepmother will soon send him away. I'll swear it was one of the grooms you saw going round to the back of the Palace. You conjure up images of that man out of nothing.”
“My lady, did you ever see a groom who looked like my Lord Admiral?”
“No.”
“Then wait with me. He will come out in a moment. He will look longingly at your window. Perhaps he will climb the ivy. Shall we let him in, my lady?”
“Sometimes I wonder whether I am your governess not you mine. If it were known what a frivolous creature you are and the mischief in which you try to involve me, you would not stay a day longer in this household.”
“I'll try to be sober, my lady, but with such as you, with such a gallant admirer…it is not easy.”
We waited at the window for quite an hour but no one emerged.
I told Kat she had been carried away by her fancies.
THE WEEKS BEGAN to pass quickly. Spring had come and it was beautiful at Chelsea. I used to ride with a party in the fields and gallop along by the river. People came out to see me ride past. They would smile and curtsy and some shouted: “God Bless the Princess.” That was sweet music in my ears. The people's approval was very precious to me. I loved the sun on the river and the green fields. England! I thought. My country! To be Queen of England! I could ask no greater prize from life than that.
Once I met Thomas Seymour at Blandel's Bridge, which was also known as Bloody Bridge because it was the haunt of robbers who thought nothing of slitting a traveler's throat for the sake of his purse.
Thomas bowed low and gave me such a look that there could be no doubt of his feelings for me. I asked him if he was on his way to the Dormer Palace and he said that he was but since he had met me in the fields, might he be permitted to ride with me?
I knew this would be dangerous and if we were seen, which we almost certainly would be, it would give rise to gossip, and what if that reached the ears of the Council? So I haughtily refused permission. He bowed his head in submission and I whipped up my horse. I had thought he would pursue me. Surely that was what one would expect of a reckless admiral. But when I looked round he had disappeared.
I was tingling with excitement.
It was a few days later when my stepmother and I were seated over our needlework and she dismissed all her attendants so that we were alone together. She began to talk to me about her life in a strange sort of way, telling me things which I knew already.
“I am not an old woman,” she said, “and until now I feel that I have never been young. I was little more than a child when I was given in marriage to Lord Borough of Gainsborough. He seemed very old to me. His children were older than I. I was his nurse until he died. You would think, would you not, that I would have been allowed a free choice. But I was given to Lord Latimer. He, too, was elderly, and I was a wife and stepmother all at once. It seemed to be my fate… until now. I suppose I seem old to you, Elizabeth. You are so young. Imagine, not yet fourteen years old! Oh, I think back to the days when I was fourteen. I had my dreams. And then my first marriage. I was terrified, Elizabeth. Can you imagine a girl little more than a child to be given to an old man? But my Lord Borough was kind to me … so was Lord Latimer. I had my stepchildren but none of my own. It was something I longed for—a child of my own. And when Lord Latimer died I was thirty years old and I told myself, I am free.”
“Then you married my father.”
She nodded and I wondered afresh why she should be telling me this which I knew so well. There was a reason I was sure. She was leading to something which she was finding rather hard to tell me. I listened patiently.
“I thought,” she went on, “now I shall marry for love. There was one man, and I was not the only one who considered him the most attractive man at Court. There is really something rather magnificent about him. We would have been married. But the King chose me… and because of that Thomas had to leave Court.”
“Thomas,” I repeated.
She smiled tenderly. “Thomas Seymour and I were all but betrothed before my marriage to the King. But I became the Queen. Sometimes I dream of those years …” She shivered. “I have had dreams, Elizabeth.”
“I understand.”
“Nightmares when…”
“Please don't talk of it. It distresses you, my lady. I understand.”
“You know I came within a day of death.”
