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

even after all we’dsuffered, we still needed a lesson in humility. Perhaps we did. Perhaps wedeserved it. Perhaps I have deserved all the misfortunes that have been strewnin my path.”

“Oh, no, Your Majesty. Do notsay such things. You have suffered but you will be rewarded in Heaven.”

“I hope so. Would you call forSusan? I have a need for the close stool. What time is it, anyway? Earlier, Ithought I heard music. Is that daylight I see beneath the shutter? Am I latefor Mass?”

Susan comes bustling in; fromthe hoarseness of her voice I can sense she has been weeping. I hang on to herarm as she hauls me from the mattress and assists me to the screen in thecorner of the chamber.

“What are the tears for?” I pullher close, searching her face and, seeing the lines engraved upon it, I knowshe was weeping for my passing. “I am not dead yet, Susan. I am still here. Itis too soon for grief. Save it for when I’ve gone.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” she says,hastily wiping away a stray tear. Turning discreetly aside while I go about mybusiness, she lowers her head, rubbing her arms.

“I’ve left instructions foryou all when I go,” I call from the close stool, “all save that child, Anne.Can I rely on you to look after her, secure her a good place?”

“Yes, of course, Your Majesty.I will be glad to.”

She helps me to stand and pullsmy bed gown down to cover my knees. With me clinging to her arm, we totter backto the bed.

As the morning wears on, Isense activity in the outer chamber and cock my ear to the low buzz of voicesand hasty footsteps.

“What is amiss?” I ask as I amhelped to a chair while the maids remake the bed. “Has something happened?”

“No, Your Majesty. Nothing hashappened – people have come to enquire after your health, that is all. I willorder them to be quiet.”

“They can’t wait for me to go,can they? Before my eyes have closed for the last time, they will be callingfor their horses and high-tailing it up the Great North Road to Elizabeth.”

I picture them fawning at herfeet, wishing her long life and pledging their loyalty – loyalty that used to bemine. Her joy at laying hands on my crown will overshadow any fleeting griefshe may feel at my passing. God rot her shallow soul. Men will fall ather feet as they never did mine; even at Kennilworth when they flocked to mybanner, it was not due to the beauty of my person but only to the power of myname. Mary Tudor.

They will love Elizabeth asthey never have me. She will look the part of a queen, resplendent in the same royalfinery that has never sat well on me. She will marry, she will have sons. Herbody is healthy and strong, where mine was ageing and sick. I was kept too longa maid. I know that, had I been allowed to wed sooner, I’d have borne many healthysons, and she would never have come to wear my crown.

Who will she marry? I wonder. There will be nolack of suitors. Half of Europe will come courting, and our own nobles will alreadybe polishing their plate in an attempt to impress her. Even my Philip will gamblehis chance on her. I’ve seen him admiring her golden good looks, her light stepon the dance floor.

On their first meeting, helaughed each time she made some sharp witty comment. How I hated him for it. Onone occasion, he snubbed me by offering her his arm on the way to the greathall. I had to make do with the ambassador.

Oh God, I will not bear it if Philipmakes her an offer of marriage. Although, by then, I suppose I will be pastcaring. My preferences will be irrelevant. I will be irrelevant.Me, my church, my rule will be in the hands of a heretic!

A screech of frustrationescapes my lips and instantly my women come running. “Do not fret yourself, YourMajesty.” “Can I fetch you anything, Your Majesty?” “Shall I call the physicianback, Your Majesty?”

I wish they’d leave me alone.I wish Philip would come.

I picture him throwing openthe chamber door, his handsome face alight with the pleasure of seeing meagain. Perhaps he will fall to his knee at my side, take up my hands and kiss myfingers, declare his love for me has never wavered…

And what would I do? Would Ibelieve him? I shake my head. No; the scales have long since fallen from myeyes. I can only see our marriage for what it is. Where once I had hopes of it beinga union of love, I now admit it was political, nothing more than that, at leaston his side.

I was smitten at first, ofcourse. He was the man I had dreamed of as a girl, and a Spaniard at that.Tall, handsome, powerful – I imagined our bedding would touch the part of methat had never been breached, a part of me I longed to discover. I dreamed ofbeing able to give myself to someone at last but … I was wrong about that too.

Our first joining wasembarrassing and painful but mercifully quick. My only consolation was the hopethat I would bear a child, but I was mistaken in that too. I search my mind fora time in my life when I have taken the right decision or been right aboutanything.

Philip is a cold fish, andarrogant too. His lack of consideration grew to such proportions that I wasactually glad of the respite the last time he returned to Spain.

“Tell those children to eithersing louder so I can hear properly, or to shut up.”

“Children singing, YourMajesty? What do you mean?”

“Surely you can hear them.They’ve been singing all night. If I could only catch the tune…”

I thrust my ear toward the outerchamber but the sound dwindles, then fades away altogether. I straighten up,feeling a little ridiculous. “They’ve stopped now. No doubt they will start upagain when it is time to sleep.”

Susan squeezes a small spongeover a bowl of water and gently dabs my skin, washes