Nine Days a Queen: The Short Life and Reign of Lady Jane Grey (16 page)

Then, in one sweeping movement he tore the canopy of state down from over my head. "You are no longer Queen," he said. "They are bringing Northumberland back to be a prisoner in the Tower. You are finished."

"Can I go home now?" I asked.

He strode from the room without answering.

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TWENTY-TWO

N

ine days a queen, and I hated it. What was to become of me now? I had a husband I near despised, a mother-in-law who hated me, and a father-in-law who was a prisoner in the Tower. My ladies, with the exception of Mrs. Tilney, had deserted me and proclaimed Mary Queen.

Then the worst came. I found out that my father and Sir Cheke had left the Tower too, to declare for Mary. Would people stop at nothing to save their own skins?

In the streets of London, I heard, the people were crying, "Long live Queen Mary!" and building bonfires all over, and ringing church bells.

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They wanted Mary, the Catholic queen! Well, let them have her.

Mrs. Tilney did nothing but cry and walk around me wringing her hands, so that I had to order her from my presence, in order to think.

What would Mary do to me? I had no doubts that I'd be moved to the prisoners' part of the Tower. I expected to be put in a dungeon and mayhap chained to the wall.

Guildford burst in on me. "Jane, what is to happen to us?" He was in despair, his handsome face all twisted with pain. He was pacing, pulling at his hair, wishing for his mother.

"She's gone to Mary to plead Father's case," he said. "Why did she go when I need her now?"

"You don't need her, Guildford," I told him. "You have yourself."

"And you, Jane? Do I have you?"

"Yes, Guildford, but likely we will be kept apart. They will imprison us separately. You must remember to be dignified and not let them know you are afraid. It's all you have, isn't it?"

"It isn't much," he said. And I was inclined to agree with him.

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True to my speculation, they moved us at the end of that day. Finally Mrs. Tilney packed my things. Then we were moved to the prisoners' part of the Tower. I was so afraid, I was trembling, but I could not let the others know it.

It was dark when we were moved, and we walked across the Tower grounds to the accompaniment of torches and shadows and muted voices. I heard rushing water but could not see much beyond the rim of torchlight. We were going toward a half-timbered house, through a door, and up some steps, and then the torches were set in the walls.

It was not a dungeon, no, but the house of Master Partridge, gentleman jailor of the Tower. He welcomed me with a small bow.

"My lady," he said, "this overlooks Tower Green. Next door is Beauchamp Tower, where all the Dudleys are imprisoned. I am sorry. You are not allowed to see your husband."

"It's all right," I said.

I had a small room with a bed, a table, and some chairs. Clean and bare. I liked it.

"I shall see about getting you writing materials and books. And Queen Mary has said that you

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are to be treated kindly." I liked that even better.

Mrs. Ellen had been my nurse since I was born. She was round faced and always wore blue and white. Ever since I could remember, those were the only colors she adorned herself in.

I didn't cry until we were left alone by the jailor and then for some reason I burst into tears. Mrs. Ellen held me and said, "There, there, it will be all right. You were always friends with Mary. She won't harm you."

It made sense of a sudden. Of course she was right. Mary and I had been friends ever since I could remember. The four of us had played together as children--Mary, Elizabeth, Edward, and I. How could Mary hurt me now?

Mrs. Ellen set about straightening my room while she told me the news she'd acquired when she stopped to talk to a guard on the way to our new abode.

Before he was arrested, Northumberland had thrown a hatful of gold coins into the crowd, then wept as he declared for Queen Mary.

The Earl of Pembroke had put my sister

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Catherine out of his house and declared her no longer wed to his son, since Northumberland's arrest.

"And your cousin Edward isn't buried yet. My Lord! Wouldn't you think they'd bury the lad and give him some rest?"

"Mary will," I said quickly. "She'll do it first thing. I know Mary."

"Mary," Nurse Ellen reported, "is wearing purple velvet and satin, in the French style. Her horse is caparisoned in gold cloth. I saw her when she rode into London. Everyone cheered. Elizabeth was by her side. And they tell the story that Elizabeth rode out to meet her on the road to London. And when she encountered her, Elizabeth got off her horse and knelt in the dust of the road before her sister."

The next day a man named Stephen Gardiner came to see me. He was tall and broad, and I'd known him once as one of Queen Katharine's enemies. He was now Mary's chief minister. And he made no bones about what he wanted.

"The crown jewels," he said to me.

"I don't have them."

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"Nobody does. They are missing."

"Why ask me? I didn't take them."

"Say what you will. I've been to see your husband and gone through his things. I've taken every one of the jewels he had in his possession. And the money and expensive clothing he had."

I understood then. The crown jewels were not missing. But he was here to confiscate whatever I had that was worth anything, for his own use. "I cannot stop you," I said. "Just leave me the clothes on my back."

Mrs. Ellen berated him, but to no end. He went through all my belongings. He took my two good necklaces that had been left to me, a purse of gold coins, and my best gowns and hoods that were sewn with pearls.

I slammed the door on him when he left. He would be the richer for his visit to me, but I cared not. What use had I for the jewels?

Mrs. Ellen told me the story of Princess Elizabeth when she was a toddler. "She'd been sent to live with Kat Ashley. Her mother was executed when she was three, and after that she

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was no longer treated like a princess, but just a person of royal blood. Her clothes were so poor. Kat had to make her dresses and constantly write to her father to beg for fabric for the poor child," she related.

"Well, I'm not a child. I know I'm not considered a queen anymore and must take what I can get," I told her.

She would sew me some dresses, she reassured me, since Stephen Gardiner had taken all but the one I had on my back.

Master Partridge, gentleman jailor, and his wife became our friends. He was a quiet, rotund man, who seemed apologetic about everything.

Every evening we were invited to sit and take supper with them. It was a dignified, civilized affair, and I shall never forget Master Partridge's kindness to me.

We dined as a family--he and his wife, Alice, Mrs. Ellen, and myself. He smuggled books in to me, and his wife got some cloth for my dresses.

The talk alone was richer than the food. One night he told us how Northumberland had collapsed upon being brought to the Tower and told he would soon meet his death.

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Another night he spoke of Queen Mary in whispered reverence. "She must soon wed," he told us. "And produce an heir, so Elizabeth and you can never become Queen. Once she has an heir, you will likely be released, Jane. Her kingdom will be safe."

"But whom will she wed?" I asked.

"Ah, whom?" And he rolled his eyes. "There are two in question. One Edward Courtney, who has been imprisoned in this very Tower for fifteen of his twenty-seven years."

"And all because he has royal blood and was a threat to the Tudor dynasty," his wife added.

The torchlight on the walls flickered as they told me of Edward Courtney, whom Queen Mary had released from the Tower. "We know him well," said Master Partridge. "For fifteen years of imprisonment he studied and learned several languages. He is a musician and artist, but the poor lad cannot even ride a horse."

"And who is the other she might wed, then?"

"Prince Philip the Second of Spain."

"Spain?" I shuddered. "No, no, not Spain. All of England will be under Spanish rule and religion."

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"That is what many say, yes. And many fear," he agreed. "But the money is on Prince Philip of Spain."

"And when she weds and has an heir--" I started to say.

"You will be free, Jane," Master Partridge insisted. "So keep hope."

"Let us pray it won't take fifteen years," I said.

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TWENTY-THREE

I suppose I could have endured years in prison, like Edward Courtney. But then he was the great-grandson of Edward IV, which was why he'd been imprisoned so long. I drought about Edward Courtney often in the days that followed, as the summer waned. I studied and played my music. I was allowed to have my dog, Pourquoi, but still I knew I could never abide fifteen years in this place.

I missed riding a horse, for one thing, though I had never been a good horsewoman. I missed it simply because I couldn't do it, as I missed being in the middle of people. I missed going outdoors. I was allowed out only at certain times to walk in the garden. My movements, no matter how

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kindly Master Partridge, were timed and watched.

At the same time I missed being alone. I was never alone. Mrs. Ellen was always with me, chatting cheerfully, telling stories or humming songs.

One day Master Partridge came to see me and handed me a note. It was from Guildford. I was sitting by the window, reading, and he waited while I read it.

Guildford wanted to meet with me. "It isn't allowed," I said, looking up into Master Partridge's placid face.

"Well now, Lady Jane, if you two were out walking at the same time, I could discreetly look the other way," he said.

"You could have us walk at the same time?" Why was I so excited? I hated Guildford.

"I could," he said, "if you could keep quiet about it."

I agreed and it was arranged, and so I found myself walking at sunset one day, instead of midafternoon. It had been a dry summer except for that one storm when Mary claimed to have seen her father on the battlements, and some

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leaves on the trees were yellow already, though it was only mid-August. The flowers had their heads drooping. The day had been hot, and now the sky in the west was tinged with pink and purple. Across some hedges I saw Guildford walking toward me. We would soon meet. What would I say?

His solitary footsteps on the brick garden walk echoed in my head as he came closer. I sneaked a look at him. He seemed sad and older and thinner. His hair was too long. It needed cutting. And his coat seemed to need a good dusting.

"Jane," he said in a loud whisper.

I was aware of Master Partridge, standing a good distance away. He was watching us, but when I turned to look, he knelt down to fix his shoe buckle. It must have been really broken, that shoe buckle, because it took a long time to fix.

"Guildford." I went over to the hedge and we looked at each other over the top of it. "How are you faring, Guildford?"

He shrugged. "I hate this place."

"Your father is here now."

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"I hate my father. He's the cause of everything. Did Gardiner come and visit you?"

"Yes. He took everything of value."

"Me too. I have nothing left. If we ever get out of here, I won't be worth a shilling, Jane. How will we live?"

"Worry about getting out of here," I found myself whispering. "The rest will take care of itself."

"You are always so hopeful."

"I? No. Never enough. But I do hope to get out soon. Mary will pardon us."