Nine Days a Queen: The Short Life and Reign of Lady Jane Grey (4 page)

"She has seen the warrant for her arrest. And she is in a private hell, sire, thinking she has so displeased you. No one can quiet her. We fear she has lost her senses."

He was up on his feet. He was so heavy now that he could scarce walk, and the sore leg required him to be helped by his men. "To Katharine's apartments I go," he said. And with a sense of purposefulness I had not seen in him in some time, he strode out of his own apartments into the hall. "Lead, child"--and he raised his hand--"lead the way to your mistress."

I knew what he meant. I ran ahead, telling all I met. "The King approaches. The King would see Katharine." Couriers, ladies-in-waiting, an ambassador or two, and all servants fell to their knees as he brushed past and into her rooms.

I would follow, but I was held back by his men. And soon Katharine's ladies came out also.

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From inside the door we heard them talking, then heard his soothing words to her, heard her calming down.

"Send for some of my poppy syrup," he bellowed.

It was brought and he gave it to Katharine, and once she was becalmed, he bellowed again: "Send for Wriothesley. Now!" The door opened and I saw him bending over her bed.

Then it closed again. A page ran away. And within ten minutes Sir Wriothesley appeared in the hall with a detachment of guards, thinking he was to arrest Katharine. No one advised him differently. We stepped aside as they went in, then stared through the open door while the King berated Sir Wriothesley with that roaring voice of his.

"Knave! Fool! Beast!" And he beat his chancellor about the head until Wriothesley retreated with all his guards, half running away.

"Now, sweetheart, we are perfect friends again, are we not?" we heard the King say. And the guards closed the door and stood stiffly at attention. And we dispersed.

It was then that I decided that I would never,

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for all the inlaid pearl tables and closets full of dresses and shoes, be queen.

What good is it to have your initials on a steel andiron in the King's private chamber, if your head has been cut off?

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SIX

I

did not like to ride. Horses frightened me. But it was one of my duties to accompany Katharine, when she and the King rode out. And besides, I had a new green velvet riding habit, made especially for me in accordance with Katharine's wishes, that I felt I should wear.

At home my parents rode all the time. And I stayed inside the house, reading. Here I had to pretend I was happy astride my mount, as we rode through the King's forest and meadows under the brilliant colors and dappled sunlight of that fall morning. We were accompanied by an extended retinue of people, for my parents had come to visit and were chatting away with the King and other members of court, including

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Edward Seymour and his brother Thomas, uncles of young Prince Edward.

I had a frisky mount, not my usual horse. She had thrown a shoe. Since I was the topic of conversation between my parents and Katharine and the King, I thought I would ride ahead with Sir Thomas and some of the ladies. It was not polite to listen. And above all, my parents demanded that I be polite.

When I tried to rein in my mount, she would not be stopped. She broke away from Sir Thomas, and the ladies screamed at seeing an obvious runaway.

I was terrified and am afraid I screamed also. All I could think of was,

Mother will be ashamed of me because she is such an excellent horsewoman. And now, especially, when Katharine is telling her of all my virtues.

And I feared for my life, as tree twigs and underbrush slapped against me and seared my face. But then I heard another set of horses hooves behind me, the snorting of the animal, and Sir Thomas's strong voice. "Hold on, Lady Jane."

So I did, for dear life, while his mount gained next to mine. And then I saw a strong, browned

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hand reach out to grab my horse s reins and pull her in.

A cloud of dust rose up around us. And there was Sir Thomas Seymour's grinning, handsome face. "Some ride, my lady Jane."

"Oh, my parents will never forgive me."

"I will forgive you." And he laughed. "Anyone's horse can run amok. The trick is to hold on, and you did. You did your parents proud!"

"They won't think so, I'm afraid," I said, near to tears.

He took out a pocket square and gave it to me. He himself wiped my tears. "Your poor little face has more than freckles on it now," he said. "It has welts from the tree branches. Here, don't let them see you cry. When they round that corner behind us, smile and act as if it was all a lark," he advised.

So I did. I even let my mount prance a little. "Bravo, Jane," the King said. And whether he said it to ward off my parents' harsh words or because he meant it, I shall never know. But just then Sir Thomas winked at me and we rode on ahead.

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I had seen Sir Thomas often at court, with other courtiers. He was no more than thirty-eight and all the women were daft over him. He had wit, he joked recklessly, he did tricks for the children at court and always had sweetmeats for them. He dressed impeccably, he danced like a true courtier, and he had a voice that sent shivers down the spines of the women. I think he was still in love with Katharine at that time. And she with him. But their eyes never met at court. He never asked her to dance.

He would have been my choice for Katharine, had she not been married to the King.

"Why are you so afraid of your parents?" he asked me now in a low voice.

"Because they'll beat me if I don't meet their expectations."

"Ah. And so you are unhappy at home."

"Yes, my lord."

"In a way, we are all unhappy, Jane." And for the moment this high-spirited man's demeanor became morose.

"Are you, sir?"

"In my own way."

"Is it because Katharine wed the King?"

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"Ah, you're a bold little piece. No wonder you get beaten. Yes, it is. But I am young; I can wait, Lady Jane. The King won't live forever."

"Sire!" It was treason even to speak of the death of the King and he knew it better than I.

But he smiled at me. "Would you repeat our conversation, then? I would think the events of a moment or two ago would seal our bond and make us friends."

"We are friends. And I shall not repeat it," I said. But I blushed. He made one blush and he took joy in it.

"I will make you a promise, Lady Jane," he said quietly. "Someday soon I will adopt you. Is that to your liking?"

"Yes, it is to my liking, but how can this be? How will my parents allow it?"

"Adoptions are arranged, even when parents are still alive," he said. "Things can be done. Tell me, do they not wish you to wed Edward, your cousin? Son of the King?"

"Yes, sire."

"Then I will arrange it. I have, shall we say, connections. And they will turn you over to me. I have been mulling the matter over for some

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time now, even while I have been watching you at court. You have decorum and manners. I have heard that you read Greek, Latin, and French. You are a precocious scholar. You surpass anyone your age. You should have a good home. I may even sweeten the pot with gold for your father."

He'll like that,

I thought.

"Does that please you, Lady Jane?"

I was blushing again. "Yes, sire."

"I promise you," he whispered. "Be patient. Things will come to a good end." And with that he went to join the ladies, so it would not look suspicious, us being so long engaged in conversation.

And that is how I met Sir Thomas Seymour, finally. And that was his promise to me.

That winter my grandfather Brandon lay dying, and I had to go home to Bradgate, where he was being cared for by my mother's people.

He lay on a couch in one of the sunniest chambers in front of the house, looking out on the gray-brown bowling green, at the bare trees, at the hints of frost and the peacocks. I sat beside him where he lay.

Something had overtaken Grandfather

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Brandon just before Christmas and he became steadily and steadily weaker. He could not sit up. He could scarce take food in his mouth. His voice grew weaker every day.

But he was a handsome man still, with his white beard and his velvet robes. He had been a country gentleman always, ennobled by the present king. He had vast estates in Lincolnshire. He had been in the French campaigns. Been at the coronation of Anne Boleyn. Been a friend as well as servant to the King, and now he lay dying.

My parents stood behind me as Grandfather Brandon weakly grasped my hand. "This child," he said, "is the wisest of all."

And then he lapsed into unconsciousness.

"Smartest of all, indeed," my mother said as she pushed me aside. "You always want the glory, Jane, even at someone's deathbed. Go from this room."

I went. The King had Grandfather Brandon buried in St. George's Chapel, Windsor, at his own expense.

The King's health was failing. I stayed away from him as much as I could because he had frequent

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explosions of temper. His leg pained him terribly. He spent most of his time in his private chamber anyway, coming out only to walk in his privy gardens.

Only his gentlemen of the chamber and closest servants were allowed in to see him, Katharine, some councillors, and on a special occasion, a foreign ambassador.

He had a special chair made for himself. He called it a "tram" and in it he was carried about to his galleries and chambers. It was made of soft velvet and silk, and it was kept in his secret study with his maps and pictures.

Talk was rife at court about how long he could last. But none dared utter such thoughts in more than a whisper. The royal physicians scurried about telling everyone he was in robust health, and everyone felt sorry for them, for they knew not what to do.

On the seventh of December, he was out taking his exercise. On the tenth, he was laid up with a fever. For Christmas, the court was closed.

Prince Edward wrote his father a letter in Latin, saying he would like to emulate him in virtue, wisdom, and piety.

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On January nineteenth even the King's musicians were dismissed. And on Friday, the twenty-eighth of January, he died. It was snowing. Heavily.

I was sent home. Katharine must re-form her household. In the King's will, she was not named Queen Regent as she expected to be, and she was disappointed. She must leave the palace, leave the court.

At home, things were dismal. It was as if someone had stretched a lute string almost to the breaking. People dared not speak, lest Mother lash out at them. It seemed as if everyone was waiting for some word of something.

And then word came, via a messenger, the same young man who had come to fetch me to court so long ago now.

The King's will named me after Edward and Mary and Elizabeth.

Still, I suffered mother's sneers. "You. Fourth in line for Queen. You with the freckles. And you're so short and can't even sit on a horse properly. Never forget, I gave up my claim to the throne for you."

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"I don't want it," I said.

So she slapped me. "Don't tell me what you want and what you don't want. I suppose you think you're going to the funeral."

"I know better, Mother. Women are not allowed to attend. But I have been invited to listen to it with Katharine from her closet."

"Oh, so you've been invited. Well then, you'd better get yourself invited back to court by that insipid cousin of yours, the boy king, because you are a nuisance around here."

"I will, Mother. I will."

The heart breaks quietly. No one can hear.

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SEVEN

T