The Heretic Wind: The Life of Mary Tudor, Queen of England by Judith Arnopp (best ereader for students TXT) 📕

as fast as I canback to my lonely chamber. I sit on a hard stool and take up a book, staringblankly at it while the sunlight tracks across the room. I do not see thewords.

The muffled soundsof the household drift up from below, setting me apart, segregating me from therest of the company. I hear running footsteps, a strain of laughter, Elizabethcrying in her nursery demanding her nurse. It is almost noon when a clamourbreaks out in the palace yard, hailing the arrival of the royal party. My heartleaps and then quickly sinks again. The royal party – how strange to have nopart in it.

Putting mybook down, I crane from the window, hearing the jingle of fine harness as thegroom leads my father’s horse to the stable. I daresay even the horse will receivebetter care than I; he will get the best stall, the sweetest hay, the fattestoats and, when it is time to leave, he will be given the honour of a royalscratch behind the ears.

My throatcloses and tears gather as I imagine the king sweeping into the royal nursery,picking up my sister, making much of her, kissing her fingers and remarking onthe wonder of her development. I expect he has brought her a gift, but he willhave none for me. I doubt if he will even think of me, or even remember that Iam here. I must remain hidden from his sight, a blot on his happiness, ablemish on his perfect life.

A knock comeson the chamber door and hurriedly I knuckle the tears from my cheek. It is thegirl again.

“Does the kingwish to see me?” I blurt, but her expression answers clearer than any words.

“Madam.” Shebobs a sort of curtsey. I must tell her not to do that; if anyone sees it willonly bring her trouble. I smile as winningly as I can.

“Lady Sheltonand Lord Cromwell wish to speak to you.”

“Indeed.” Iraise my brows in surprise. I had thought I was to remain here in my chamber butI do not contradict her. Hastily, I straighten my hood and arrange my tiredgown as best I can. The girl leads me downstairs to a dark antechamber in alittle used part of the house. They are so determined that my father shall not seeme that they keep me hidden. I feel like a dirty secret.

The chamber ischilly and ill lit. Cromwell and another man wait at the hearth where a sulkyfire has been lit. Neither man bows when I enter. I firm my chin, lift my headand look down my nose at them. I am Mary Tudor. I am not some lowborngirl to be so rudely used.

“I hope youare in good health, Lady Mary.”

Howextraordinarily easily the lies trip from this man’s tongue. I can scarcelyprevent my lip from curling into a snarl when I make reply.

“I am not,sir. I am most rudely treated and grieving for the company of my mother, aswell you know. My chamber does not befit my station and my gowns are too small;some are threadbare and need replacing. The servants here are rude. AnneShelton treats me as an underling.”

Cromwell’sface creases into furrows. He clasps his hands as if he is about to pray … tothe devil, I presume.

“Lady Mary,you are disobedient to the king’s wishes. If you wish your circumstances toimprove then you must denounce your title and acknowledge that the king’s unionwith your mother was illegal. Then and only then will you be taken again intoyour father’s favour…”

“As his bastard.”

He inclineshis head.

“The marriagewas no marriage, your birth no different to that of your brother Fitzroi, yetlook at the benefits he receives. Your father honours him as his son, as hewould honour you as his daughter if you would only cease to be so stubborn.”

“I was born withinwedlock, sir, I am no bastard! My mother is a God-fearing woman; shewould never stoop to immorality. She is a princess of Spain and the rightfulQueen of England and she never lies!”

He throws openhis hands, revealing red work-worn palms, and I remember he is the son of ablacksmith. What times are we living in when the son of a farrier can grind aprincess of the realm into the dust?

I stand alittle straighter.

“You waste yourtime, sir, with your bullying and bombast. You do not frighten me. You can mistreatme all you like; you can send me to the Tower and threaten me with death, but Iwill never renounce my title or my position as the true born princess of therealm and my father’s legitimate heir.”

His facepales, his lips a slash of bitterness, and I know he silently curses me. Icurse him in return. As he opens his mouth to speak again, I forestall him,stepping forward and looking directly into his shifty eye.

“I wish togreet my father, the king, sir. Pray inform him that the Princess Maryawaits his convenience.”

He smirks andthrusts his face closer, his tainted breath blasting directly into mine.

“Oh no, LadyMary. You shall not see the king. You will remain here at Hatfield and seenobody until you decide to be obedient. You will serve the infant princess andI shall instruct Lady Shelton to heap any humiliation she pleases onto yourhead. Until you realise that you have no claim on your father, you will be keptaway from him. I am confident that he will neither miss you nor even enquire asto your health. He has a new daughter now and every expectation that a maleheir will follow.”

He pushes pastme so violently that I almost lose my footing. The chamber door crashes closedbehind him, the sound of it reverberating through the floor, through my body, tolodge deep in the darkest places of my mind. I clench my trembling hands. Hewill pay for this, one day. As God is my witness, he will pay.

When the soundof their footsteps has faded, I pick up my skirts and run from the chamber. Skimmingswiftly through the dark corridors to the upper floor, I tumble out onto theterrace where I sometimes like to take the air. They might refuse to convey tothe king my entreaty for a