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

it is as if someone has thrust adagger between my ribs. Their plight is killing me too. The old families are shamedand ruined, tainted by treason, their property confiscated by the crown. Earlyin December, Lord Montague, Lord Neville and Henry Courtenay go to the scaffold,while Courtenay’s son is sentenced to a lengthy stay in the Tower. I look outat the cold grey skies above London and see the ravens fly up from Tower Hill.Perhaps it is as well Mother has not lived to see this day.

I summonChapuys, beg him to implore Reginald Pole to desist with his treasonous talkbut, even with his elderly mother, my beloved Margaret, held fast in the Tower,Pole continues his attempt to rally the Catholic powers of Europe to moveagainst the king. In January, France and Spain agree to cease dealing withEngland. There will be no further trade. Our kingdom now stands alone, isolated,and while Father sets the country in readiness for war, Cromwell makesovertures of friendship to the Protestant German princes.

My relief isgreat when a proposed match between me and the Duke of Cleves comes to nothing.I could never ally myself to a Protestant. Cromwell, never one to be distractedfrom a goal, manages instead to arrange a match between the king and the duke’ssister.

With a sigh, Iprepare to meet another stepmother. This one is called Anne, which may bode ill,but I reassure myself she will not be like Anne Boleyn. No, this one will belike Jane – a friend, a champion and hopefully a confidant.

Above all, Ipray she has a calming influence over Father. I must befriend her at myearliest convenience and urge her that my friends should be spared. I sit downto write her a letter of welcome, expressing my joy at the coming union, whileAnne of Cleves begins her perilous journey to England.

The winter sunwill not be with us long and I write so fast that my words are a hasty scrawl.I am just blotting and sealing it when the door opens and a visitor isannounced.

I have no lovefor Wriothesley, who is Cromwell’s man. My spirits drop when he enters mypresence, snatches off his cap at the last minute and makes a sketchy bow. I donot get up but I lift my chin to look down my nose at him, although he stands adeal taller than I.

“Ah, LadyMary,” he says, as if he is surprised to find me ensconced in my ownapartments. “I have news.”

He leaves arather wet kiss upon my knuckle, which I surreptitiously wipe on my gown. Ismile but do not speak, preferring to let him do the talking. He remarks first uponthe weather, as if his errand is a social one. Suspicion erupts from somewheredeep within, foreboding creeping up the back of my neck.

I signal to Susanfor wine and indicate that Wriothesley should sit. He sweeps his cloak frombeneath his buttocks and takes the nearest chair, knees akimbo, feet spread farapart. I wait for him to speak.

“Lady Mary,”he says again, although I have it on good authority that in the many marriagenegotiations recently undertaken on my behalf, they have officially allowed methe title of ‘princess.’

“In spite ofthe misfortune of your previous alliance with the Duke of Cleves coming to nothing,we have news that will surely bring a smile to those wan cheeks.”

He is acondescending fool but I do not show my contempt. I also keep a tight rein onmy alarm.

“Indeed.”

I cannot likethis man. He is a Lutheran and a traitor to my mother, and he was a supporter ofBoleyn before he and his butcher-son master turned on her. “I am all ears.”

He smiles aquick, tight smile that does not reach his eyes, and I realise our dislike ismutual.

“You shouldprepare yourself for a proposal of marriage, my lady. A proposal that yourfather the king expects you to welcome without argument.”

My heart sinksdeeper. I force a smile.

“Indeed,” Isay again. “Who is it this time?”

“Philip ofBavaria. He is in England to make preparation for his niece, Anne’s, arrival, andwill be presented to you within a few days.”

AnotherLutheran. How will I bear it? How can I swear duty and obedience to a heretic?How can I lie with one in nakedness? But I say nothing. I maintain my position,clutch my fingers together a little tighter and try to look mildly interested.I imagine Philip will be a foppish, insolent fellow and wonder if he will hidehis horns beneath his cap.

“I will meetwith him, sir, but … you must take this message to my father.”

I close myeyes, picturing his rage, his disappointment, the return of his distrust of me,but I cannot deny my beliefs. I cannot be seen to go gladly into a union with afriend of the devil.

“You mustremind my kind and benevolent father that, although I know it to be a matter ofgreat importance, I can never wish or desire to enter that kind of religion. Iwould sooner remain a maid all my life.”

Wriothesley’sneck turns red, the colour creeping up to his cheeks, his eyes disappearing ina ferocious squint. He stands up, searches for his gloves and blesses me with asecond sketchy bow.

“I will, ofcourse, convey your message to the king, my lady, but … you must be aware thatit will undoubtedly bring disfavour upon you again. The duke will expect tomeet you in the gardens at Westminster Abbey on the twenty-second day of thismonth. I suggest that you be there, unless you are otherwise instructed by theking.”

He quits mychamber and I am left alone. I close my eyes and a tear drips onto my cheek. Whywill they not just leave me alone? Try as I might, it seems I can neverremain in Father’s favour for long, but God must come first. It isbetter to die from Father’s displeasure than to burn forever in the flames ofGod’s wrath.

I have to go,of course. I dress in my best gown, drape myself in my favourite jewels and, withonly Susan and Margery in accompaniment, I take the barge to Westminster.

It is aninauspicious day for the meeting. The clouds hang low and heavy, no sun managesto find a way