The Heretic Heir, page 15
part #2 of The Elizabeth of England Chronicles Series
She paused. “And here, even though I am not at ease within these walls,” she shivered a little and looked around as she had become accustomed to do, fearing the ghost of my mother, “even though I am not at ease, I am with you. You have been my sole care and thought in this world for so many years and I would follow you into Hell, my lady, if that was where your footsteps took you. As long as I am by your side, then I know I am where I am supposed to be.”
My eyes filled with tears as I took my friend into my arms. “Kat… ” I whispered as I choked into her shoulder.
“I love you, my lady,” she cried into my shoulder. “You are the daughter that I would have always wished to have had.”
All I could do was nod into her soft shoulder as I wept into it.
“I love you too, Kat.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Richmond Palace
Late February 1603
Death is a strange and enticing character. He is the last companion on a journey all must take, and whilst his visage shows an aspect of fear and trepidation, there is also something about him that can become inviting, calming, and alluring. Death is not attractive to those who have never known pain and suffering; but to those of us who understand how hard the battle of life may be, the ultimate enemy can sometimes come to look like a friend.
I cannot tell you of my trials in those days and weeks in the Tower of London, not in truth. I can show you passages and conversations, I can tell you of my pale white face haggard and drawn with fear, and the pounding of my chilled blood in my veins, but the truth of my heart was such that no mortal can explain.
Resting so close to the arm of Death, though I feared his every step at my side, I began to see that therein was also an escape and a release from the torment I was presently under.
Death began to look to me as an old and trusted ally, one I had long known. Death began to look like a cool and calm place, away from wrestling with the life I had so little known then, and yet was already beginning to be so very tired of living. His call in my ear started to sound most warm and pleasing. His step at my side started to sound inviting. To those who have known much of suffering and pain, Death can start to appear as a much easier option than staying for another round in the fight of life.
At that time, I even chose the method by which I would meet my end if I was given the choice. I decided within myself that if I was to be executed, I wanted my end to be by the sword rather than the axe. It was not simply that those learned in the sword are cleaner at the ruthless task of taking life than those untutored, and often drunken, beings who are often chosen wield the clumsy axe; it was not just that the sword was the method of my own mother’s death and I felt therein another connection with her. I felt in some ways as though my life had been a battle, and if I was to meet my maker, it should be at the end of a sword, in the manner that a king may die on a battlefield. If I was to end this life now, the manner of my death should reflect the life I had lived.
In those chambers, built for my mother at the height of my father’s love for her, we sat and waited to see if Mary would send me to the block for the threat she believed I represented to her country and her faith. In those chambers I passed dually between calmness at considering the peace of death, and the most awful, desperate hope that I might survive.
I am an old woman now and I know how little I had seen of life then; had I died there in the Tower, there were many ills I might have avoided by passing from this life early. But I should also have had to give up the greatest glories and loves I found later in life.
I knew that not, then.
Life is not the easy option; it never has been. But we were granted it, and all that we are granted, we must rejoice in. There is so much sweetness in life that we cannot taste unless we also sample the bitter, so much more joy we can contain if we are hollowed out by loss and sadness first. Life is a double-edged sword itself. Two sides to every life… and in order to nibble at the happiness of love, we must also sip from the cup of sorrow.
The heart is the greatest enemy, for we never know how it may serve us in times of trial. It may quail in the face of pain, or it may cry strong and true as a lion. We only know if it is friend and ally, or enemy and rival, when we come closest to our destruction… when the heart is put to the test.
Death comes to look like an old friend to those in the grip of suffering and pain. And it is only in the primal will to survive that we find the might to refuse the beckoning hand of the companion of our last and greatest journey.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The Tower of London
March 1554
It was Good Friday when they came to take me before the Council. Neither Kat nor Blanche was allowed to accompany me as I walked in before those sombre men whose faces were hidden in shadow at the back of the great chamber. Did they wish to frighten me, sitting in a row behind that dark wood table? Or were they seeking to hide their faces for shame, knowing that nothing wrong of me could be proved?
As I entered the room, a full half of my inquisitors rose, and were then chided by the half who still sat; I almost smiled. The divisions of opinion about my guilt and position were as clear to me then as could be. It gave me heart, to see their split opinion laid bare.
I drew myself up to my full height, and walked through towards them. I had chosen my dress with care that morning. Tudor green and silken white silk and velvet shone on my body and my long red hair was loose about my shoulders. The daughter of Henry VIII was before them, and I was not going to let them forget that truth.
A chair had been provided for me before them, and I sat, sitting near to the edge and pulling myself up to look as regal as I could in front of these men. My blood was royal and they were but the servants of the Crown. I was a princess and they were mere men. I was not going to be convicted by mortals bent on corruption or vanity. If I could face Death with courage, I would face life with the same. This chant resonated within my heart as I turned my eyes on the men sent to question me.
“We are here today to ascertain the guilt or innocence of the Princess of England, Lady Elizabeth Tudor in the recent rebellion against the grace of Her Majesty, Queen Mary I,” said a voice. I raised my eyebrows at them and said nothing.
“What were your intentions, Lady Elizabeth, in refusing the invitation of Her Majesty, the Queen, to come to court when news of the vile rebellion against her reign, started in this country?” The voice of Lord Arundel was bold and strong, but it was not accusatory. I looked into his face and I fancied I saw a flush of chagrin at his task. It gave me hope, and that gave me strength.
“I had no intentions, my lords,” I said in the strongest and surest voice I could. It rang out, steady and true, through the hall, echoing and bouncing from the walls and I was pleased to hear it. It did not betray the quaking in my heart.
“I had no intentions of anything, when I was unable to come to the side of my most beloved sister during the recent horrors we have seen. Much as when my sister was forced to fight usurpers and traitors for the throne which was lawfully her own, I was taken with great illness. I have had these attacks of illness during times of conflict before. Were it not for the ills of my body I should have flown to the side of my royal sister. I should have certainly felt safer and more at ease by the side of Her Majesty than I did in my house, alone, with but my personal guard to protect me.”
“But what of the plans we hear that were made to remove your household to your estate at Donnington?” asked my enemy Gardiner, his snake eyes flickering with the enjoyment of seeing me finally within his power. He was relishing the notion of being rid of this heretic who hovered too close to the throne for his Catholic liking. “A house, that we hear, was being fortified even as you amassed your personal guards… perhaps in preparation for joining the rebellion against your own sister?”
I looked at him and creased my brow. “Do I have such a house, my lord?” I asked, and my puzzled aspect deepened as though I was mystified by the question. I spread my hands before me and shrugged. “I have so many houses, being a princess of the line and blood of the royal house of Tudor, and greatly honoured by my sister’s benevolence, but I admit, I cannot recall the estate of which you speak.”
I looked around the Council and smiled at them. “Women are often wont to forget already gained riches when there are so many they hope to acquire yet, is it not so, my lords? The dress or the necklace that may be is always more enticing and memorable than that which a woman already possesses.”
There was a little guffaw from some of the men at the table, and then there was also a great nudging and glaring, as those who had not laughed sought to express their disapproval to those who had. I smiled magnanimously at those who had sniggered, and I could feel their warmth growing towards me. Men, I have learnt, do so love to find companionship through jokes about their wives. I was already winning the affection of some of them, for my little quips humouring their sensibilities.
Gardiner looked furious; he was here to terrify me into submission, not to have the Council giggle at my jests. If he lost here, before all these men and lords of the land, the shame would be much greater.
“This is not so, my lady,” he said, his face starting to redden at the cheeks and temples. “For you instructed Sir James Crofts, one of the rebel leaders, to help you repair to Donnington and to amass your forces there, for the purpose of rising against Her Majesty, the Queen.”
“There was much talk, my lord, when word of the foul rebellion reached us, and I was in danger of my life, sick in my bed. There was much talk that we should take my household to this place or the other to ensure my greater safety.” I smiled at the Council. “My servants are true and loyal to me, as servants should be to every good master; they take most diligent care of my person. If there was any such talk of repairing to another estate, then it was spoken of to protect my person. But in the event, I was too ill to be moved.”
I looked back at Gardiner. “But I do not remember one house more favoured than another… unless it was because it was situated further from the seat of the abominable uprising. And at no time did I order my standing guard to amass for any reason, other than to protect my person against the rebels. After all, my lord, they were rising against my own royal sister, I feared what they might also do to me. I could have been murdered by the rebels, or held as captive to ransom against my beloved sister the Queen. I am but one small maid, my lord; what good would I have been against the might of so many men bent on treason and unrest? In times of danger, I may call on my personal guard to protect my person, as is the right of any noble lord of England.”
“You instructed Crofts and others to move your household to Donnington,” Gardiner repeated, sticky sweat was starting to break out across his ruddy forehead and yellowed cheeks. I liked the look on him. My calmness was infuriating him. He wanted me lost and floundering like a lamb caught in the marshlands. He wanted me to implicate myself. But I was no lamb to trot willingly to his slaughter.
“You know as well as I, my lord that I never met with this man, Crofts, nor ever would meet with such a traitorous cur as he. Whosoever has informed you of such is lying and I can call on many witnesses to prove so. I was taken ill, and kept to my bed at Ashridge. A princess of the house of Tudor does not receive men to her bedchamber! My servants can answer honestly for me in that regard. My servants discussed the movement of my household for the greater security of my person, my lord, many times during this season of unrest. But as you see, I did not move anywhere due to the ills of my poor body, and even if we had moved to another house, my lord, what of it? Can a prince not go to a house they legally own?”
I frowned at him. “Has it become treason to talk of moving from one house to another, my lord? If so, then the common man will prove better off than a prince of a royal line. I never understood my reason for being moved into this place of imprisonment, and now I see that treason is most easily arrived at in the minds of members of this Council. What else is there that I am here to answer for, my lords? For it seems that I am held to answer on the most trivial of matters under suspicion of great crimes but with no evidence other than talk amidst my household of moving from one house to another house… which I legally own.”
I looked around at them and saw many of them blush with embarrassment. My heart was lifted and I almost wanted to laugh; they had no proof of guilt. The ones who wanted me dead were simply hoping I could be drawn into tripping myself up through fear, and admitting something they could twist against me. But my cool reserve was ending this hope, and if I stuck to my story, they could not make my own self an enemy against me. I had been careful in my dealings with the rebels, and that was paying dividends to me now. This Council had nothing solid they could argue against my innocence.
Whether or not I could still be executed for nothing was yet to be seen, but here and now, they held no power over me.
I lifted my chin, and moved my eyes along the darkened row of faces before me. “I believe that there are many in this realm who would seek to persecute this daughter of England for the purposes of evil; those who would spread treachery and discord between two sisters who came of the same beloved father and great king of this land. I stand accused of great malevolence against my sister, the Queen, and I say to you as I would say to her, that I am her most loyal servant, more loyal than some of those who seek to remove me, not for the good of England or the Queen, but for the secret satisfaction of their own sinful hearts. I have done no wrong against my sister, my Queen, or this realm and I remain Her Majesty’s servant until death take me from this world.”
I narrowed my eyes at them. “But until that time, it should be remembered that the word of a prince is more sacred a bond than that of any other man or woman; for in the heart of a prince is the will of God, and much as my sister the Queen, much as my father the late King, my word and my promise are sacred. I have never, nor will ever, do anything other than respect and honour my sister and the majesty of her position. Our great father taught us of the sacrosanct nature of kingship. My sister was placed here by God to be our Queen, and I honour her with all reverence, respect and love. I only wish that such were true of all her subjects.”
I rose. “If that is all we have to discuss here, my lords, then I believe we are at an end to this audience.”
Embarrassed, chagrined and shamed by a young maid only half their age, they let me walk out from the hall and back to my quarters. Gardiner sat staring at me as though I were a creature of another world, and possibly that was exactly what he believed. He had expected me to come crawling before the Council, terrified and cowed; but it had not been so. I could see his serpent eyes narrow on me as I rose to leave, and I knew he was thinking on new ways to achieve his purpose. It was not over; they would go back and re-group for another battle. Gardiner, especially, would not allow me to simply slip from his clutches now that he could almost taste my blood on the block.
But my heart had stood the test of its resolve and courage in the face of adversity.
The first battle in this war was mine.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The Tower of London
April 1554
The stench of burnt blood and roasted flesh hung sickeningly around us like a cloying cloak. Everywhere one moved, the scent hastened to follow. It festered in the air, wavering and dancing around us until it filled our noses and lined our lungs. It seemed as if there would never be another breath of clean air in the world.
They had taken Wyatt, once the proud leader of the rebellion, now a man broken in body from their torments in the Tower, and walked him to Tower Green to his place of public execution. Kat whispered to me that the guards had told her Wyatt’s interrogators had tried over and over to offer him freedom or quicker forms of death if he implicated me directly in the rebellion, but he had refused.
Although he and I had never met, Wyatt had refused to make his death easier by causing mine.
There are some people in this world who never act but for the satisfaction of their own wants, and there are some who sacrifice their own comfort and wellbeing for that of a stranger. The latter kinds of people are to be honoured; they walk hand in hand with the angels.
On the scaffold Wyatt turned and spoke to the people; he spoke of me and of Edward Courtenay who was also now held a prisoner of my sister in the Tower. Since Courtenay’s confession to Gardiner on the rebel uprising, Courtenay had been returned to the place he had already wasted so much of his life in as a prisoner. I wondered if he felt as though the Tower of London was in truth his home, for it seemed that he was fated to always return to its walls. Poor, foolish Courtenay; how little he had ever really seen of life outside of prison walls.
“Whereas it may be said and whistled abroad,” Wyatt said as he stood on the scaffold, “that I accuse my Lady Elizabeth’s grace and my Lord Courtenay; it is not so, good people. For I assure you they, nor any other now in yonder hold, was privy of my rising or commotion before it begun. I have declared no less to the Queen’s Council. And this is most true.”
