The Lady in the Tower (59 page)

Mark did not return.

It was another of the women who gave me the news; and I began to feel a faint alarm.

“He was very proud yesterday, Madam. He had an invitation to dine.”

“To dine? With whom?”

“With Master Cromwell, Madam.”

I was astounded. The great Cromwell inviting a humble musician to dine!

What could it mean? Mark should have told me. I wanted to see George at once to tell him what had happened.

It was the first of May—two days after the disappearance of Mark Smeaton. He had not returned to the Court and I was full of misgiving.

But this was May Day—a very special occasion, a Court festival which had always been observed with a spectacular show of jousting.

I had not been able to talk to George or tell him of Mark's disappearance but I should see him today, for he would be one of the chief challengers in the tournament; and Norris was to lead the defenders.

I was still the Queen and must be at the ceremony beside the King, so I took my place in the loge. As Henry was coming into the tiltyard, I saw Cromwell approach him and for some time they were in close conversation.

Henry was frowning deeply, so I guessed it was not good news Cromwell was imparting. I wanted to speak to Cromwell, to ask him why he had invited Mark Smeaton to dinner, and why it was we had not seen Mark since.

Henry took his place beside me. I turned to smile at him but he did not meet my gaze; he was staring straight ahead, his mouth tight and as cruel as I had ever seen it; his eyes were cold but there was a hot color in his cheeks.

Even when the jousting began, he continued to glower and I guessed he was thinking of the days when he had been the champion. He was too corpulent now. He still rode and hunted, priding himself on the number of horses he could tire out; but he was aging fast. I knew his leg troubled him. The ulcer would not heal and it could be painful. If he had entered a joust, it would have been difficult for his challenger to stage a defeat for himself. Perhaps Henry knew that, and it was why he sat there glowering.

But there was something else which angered him.

I could not concentrate on the joust. I was wondering about Mark … and I wished I knew what Henry was thinking.

George performed with skill. So did Norris. They looked extremely handsome, both of them. The King watched them sourly. I was suddenly overwhelmed by the heat and the desire to get away. It was more than the rays of the sun; I was filled with a premonition that evil was hovering very near me.

I took out my handkerchief to wipe my brow. My hand trembled and it fluttered to the ground. Norris happened to be just below. He picked up the handkerchief on the point of his lance and held it out to me. I took it, smiling while Norris bowed.

The King was watching us. I turned to him. He looked as though he were about to choke.

I said: “Are you unwell?”

He did not answer. He stood up. There seemed to be a long silence, but it could have lasted for only a few seconds. Then abruptly he left the loge.

It was the signal for the jousting to end.

There was a certain amount of confusion—a kind of stunned silence. Then the voices broke out. No one knew what was wrong.

There was nothing for me to do but leave.

I went back to my apartments in Greenwich Palace.

The brooding silence continued…a silence full of meaning. The storm was about to break and I knew that I was at the heart of it.

Norris did not appear.

I sent for Madge. “Madge,” I said, “where is Norris?”

“I have not seen him since the joust.”

“It ended so suddenly.”

“The King was tired of it, they said.”

“He was irritated because he can no longer compete with men like Norris and my brother.”

Madge did not answer. I guessed she was thinking that I said the most dangerous things.

“And there is Mark. What can have happened to Mark?”

Madge shook her head.

“There are wild rumors,” she said.

“What rumors?”

“That Norris was arrested and taken to the Tower.”

“Norris! For what reason?”

“He had offended the King.”

“Surely not? The King is very fond of Norris. He was very close to him.”

“Perhaps it is merely rumors,” said Madge.

“How could such rumors come about?”

“They say it was when he was leaving the tiltyard. Norris was with the King. They were riding side by side. The King accused him of something… and then he called for his arrest.”

“I don't believe it. On what charge?”

Madge shook her head.

“But they say he is in the Tower.”

“What is going on?” I demanded. “Norris arrested! Mark missing! What does it mean?”

No one could be sure. Or perhaps they were afraid to tell me. Was there something they were holding back?

I wanted to talk to someone. Where was George? I sent someone to find him, but he was not to be found.

I dreaded the night. I knew I should not sleep.

How right I was! I lay in bed, turning from one side to the other, constantly asking myself: What does all this mean?

At length the long night was over. I rose. There seemed to be a silence everywhere. I fancied my attendants did not want to meet my eyes. They were all afraid of something.

In the early morning I had visitors. I was surprised to see members of the Council led by the Duke of Norfolk.

I rose as they entered my apartment, for they came unbidden and should have asked for an audience.

I demanded: “What are you doing here?”

“We are here on the King's business,” replied Norfolk.

“What business?”

“Your music man is a prisoner in the Tower.”

“Mark, a prisoner! He is only a simple boy. On what charge?”

“Of adultery.”

“Adultery! With whom?”

Norfolk looked at me, smiling. “With you, Madam.”

“Mark! A humble musician! What nonsense is this?”

“He has admitted it.”

“Oh, my God!” I cried. And I thought: Dining with Cromwell. For what purpose would Cromwell invite a mere musician to his house? To
bribe him? No, Mark would never take bribes. If it were true that he had said that, they must have tortured him to make him do so. What implacable enemies I was up against. Poor Mark! His slender body… those delicate hands… What had happened to Mark? What would happen to me?

“How dare you make such vile accusations?” I demanded.

Norfolk used that favorite expression of his which had always irritated me. “Tut, tut, tut,” he said, as though I were a willful child. He added: “Norris is in the Tower… another of your lovers.”

“What wicked lies.”

“And now, Madam, we are come to conduct you to the Tower.”

“I will not go.”

“It is the order of the King.”

“I must see the King. I must speak to him.”

“His Grace does not wish to see you. It is his order that you are to be taken to the Tower.”

I felt suddenly calm. The blow had fallen. Perhaps I had been waiting for it for so long that it was almost a relief that it had come at last.

I was in the hands of ruthless men who would stop at nothing to get what they wanted… and the most ruthless of them all was my husband, the King.

Lies were being told about me. Had Smeaton spoken against me? If he had, his “confession” must have been wrung from him with the greatest cruelty. And Norris? Norris was an honorable gentleman. But could he withstand the rack?

I entered the barge, and I felt doom all about me. It seemed such a short time ago that I had come down the river in glory.

Norfolk sat opposite me. There was a smile of triumph on his face. He had never liked me. In spite of the fact that he was a kinsman, I really believed he was delighted to see me thus. I realized I had been proud and overbearing. I had been haughty, thoughtless, quick to anger. I had not exactly endeared people to me. But I had a few faithful friends and on them I could rely completely.

He said to me almost complacently: “Your paramours have confessed their guilt.”

“My paramours?”

“Norris, Brereton, Weston… and of course the music boy.”

“I do not believe it.”

He lifted his shoulders to imply that what I believed was of no importance.

They were taking me to the Traitor's Gate.

In my wildest nightmares I had not thought of this. That he might be seeking means of getting rid of me, yes, but not this way.

I was told roughly to get out of the barge. I did so. I suddenly felt the need for prayer. I sank to my knees and prayed aloud. “Oh Lord God, help me. Thou knowest I am guiltless of that whereof I am accused.”

Sir William Kingston, the Lieutenant of the Tower, came out to receive me.

“Master Kingston,” I said, “do I go to a dungeon?”

“No, Madam,” he answered kindly. “To your lodging where you lay at your coronation.”

The irony of the situation came upon me afresh. Was it only three years ago? I thought of myself sitting proudly in my barge with my device of the white falcon and the red and white roses of York and Lancaster. I was then pregnant…never dreaming that I should not have boys. I laughed wildly and there were tears on my cheeks.

“Wherefore am I here, Master Kingston?” I asked.

He did not reply but there was compassion in his face, and that brought me a shred of comfort.

As I was taken to my chamber, I heard the clock striking five, and each stroke was like a funeral knell.

Norfolk with his company came with me into the chamber and, having seen me installed there, were ready to depart.

“I am innocent,” I said to them again. “I entreat you to beseech the King to be a good lord unto me.”

They bowed and left and I was alone with Kingston, who pitied me, I think.

“Do you know why I am here?” I asked again.

“Nay,” he replied.

“When did you last see the King?”

“I have not seen him since I saw him in the tiltyard.”

“Where is Lord Rochford?” I asked, dreading the answer.

“He was in the tiltyard also.”

A terrible fear came to me. I said to myself more than to him: “Oh, where is my sweet brother?”

“I saw him last at York Place.”

I covered my face with my hands.

“I hear say that I shall be accused with three men, and I can say no more than…nay. Oh Norris, hast thou accused me? Thou art in the
Tower and thou and I shall die together.” I thought of my stepmother; her grief would be terrible. I murmured, “Oh, my mother, thou wilt die of sorrow. Master Kingston, do you think I shall die without justice?”

“Oh, Madam, the poorest subject of the King has that,” he said.

That set me laughing wildly. I could not shut out of my mind memories of that large face with the hard little eyes and the cruelest mouth in the world.

I threw myself onto my bed and laughed and wept until I was exhausted.

I had lost count of the days. I did not know how I lived through them. They were determined to discountenance me, to rob me of comfort.

If only they would let me have my friends about me, that would have helped me. Was it too much to ask? If I could only talk with Mary Wyatt, Margaret Lee, Madge or my sister Mary—that would have helped me through the dismal days. They had given me those who hated me. They sent my aunt, Lady Boleyn, wife of my father's brother Edward, who had always been jealous of me, and although in days past she had been afraid to speak against me, I had always been aware of her venom. Perhaps they chose her because they knew she hated me. And she brought with her a certain Mrs. Cosyns—a spy if ever there was one. Those two were certain, I was sure, that I was guilty of all of which I was accused.

They tried to trap me into saying something which they could report against me. They were there all the time; they never left me. They slept on pallets at the foot of my bed. Sometimes I would wake from a nightmare shouting. They were alert, listening, noting everything that I said, attaching great importance to anything that might be used against me.

They treated me with a studied lack of respect. I was not the Queen now, they were telling me.

Sometimes they would pretend to be sympathetic and try to get me to confide in them. They asked questions and they phrased them in a way designed to trap me.

“Oh, you were ever so beautiful in the Court. You were the brightest star. Everyone seemed commonplace beside you. It was small wonder that all those men were in love with you.”

The stupid women! Did they not understand that I saw through their probing?

“Norris was said to be courting Madge Shelton, but he came to see you. You were the one. It was obvious…”

“And Weston…he loved you better than he loved his wife. Well, it was understandable.”

I turned from them. I could live through these days only by ignoring them.

My moods changed. There were times when I just wanted to die and have done with the wearisome business of living; at others my anger overcame my sorrow.

I wanted to live and take my revenge on those people who had plotted against me and brought me to where I was.

It was a great joy to me when I was allowed to have two more ladies to be with me, and that these two should be my cousin Madge and my dear friend Mary Wyatt.

Lady Boleyn and Mrs. Cosyns were still there, but that was more bearable now that I had my friends as well.

Mary was very worried about her brother. He had not been arrested as everyone expected him to be, for he had been known as a great friend of mine and he had never hidden his love for me. Many of his poems had been written for me.

I would contrive to be alone with Mary so that we could talk, and she comforted me a great deal.

“It is only Smeaton who has lied about you,” she told me, “and that was under torture. Cromwell tortured him at the dinner table. His bullies put a rope around the poor creature's head and they tightened it so that he was fainting with the pain; then they made him say how you had favored him, given him fine clothes and a ring because he was your lover. He withstood the agony for a long time. Then they took him to the Tower and racked him most piteously. It was only then that he broke down and lied.”