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

and sometimes heis forced to resort to a portable chair. His face is pouched and lined, thewhites of his eye jaundiced, and the stench of his festering thigh is sometimesoverwhelming. Yet Katherine Parr shows no sign of distaste when she is withhim. She is the perfect, willing wife and if at times she appears sad, well,she keeps the reason to herself. The role of queen suits her well and sheembraces me and my siblings as if we are her own lost children. For the firsttime, we come close to being a family again. I look about the cosy chamber.

 Katherine isfeeding Father grapes, popping them one by one into his mouth and reminding himnot to swallow the pips. Elizabeth is reading by the light of the fire, slowly turningthe thick pages with a look of wonder in her eye. She is clever, increasinglycurious and quick to learn – were she a boy, Father would be proud, but sinceshe is a girl, he merely pats her head from time to time and looks at heraskance.

“It is becauseI look like my mother,” she says, with wisdom beyond her years. “He doesn’tlike that but I can do nothing about it.”

She shrugs asif she is indifferent to his approval, but I know how much it really means. Ihave seen the tightening of her lips when Edward receives royal praise. He cando no wrong. Even when he rages and storms like a miniature version of theking, Father just laughs and does not reprimand him. As princesses, me andElizabeth are expected to act like ladies at all times, and royal ladies atthat, even though our titles are somewhat … intermittent.

“Lady Mary.”

The queen’s gentlevoice draws me from my musings. I look up and smile at her open pleasant face.

“Please, youmust call me simply, Mary.”

“I wonder ifyou would help me select fabric for my new wardrobe. The king informs me myclothes are too plain for my … now I am queen.”

She lowers herhead, blushes as if she can scarce believe she is the queen of England, andlittle wonder for she was merely Lady Latimer before, the widowed wife of JohnNeville, the third Baron Latimer. She has risen so high so suddenly she mustsurely feel quite dizzy, yet rumour suggests she had not looked to be queen.

Susan told methat Katherine had set her heart on Tom Seymour, brother to the late queen,Jane. I cannot imagine they’d be suited, for Tom is a braggart who is far toofull of himself. His ambition knows no bounds, and he has even gone so far inthe past as to flirt with me.

“I would loveto help,” I say, pulling my thoughts from Tom. “My own seamstress is verygifted. I will ask her to wait on us tomorrow. I could do with some new clothesmyself.”

I can ill-affordthem but now I am to be at court more often, I will need new attire. Peoplewill gossip if I wear the same gown on too many occasions. As well as newgowns, I plan to have two or three of my older kirtles refurbished and perhapsnew sleeves and some hoods in the latest style.

Elizabethlooks up from the pages of her book. “What about me? Am I to have new clothestoo?”

Katherinelaughs and holds out her arm. Elizabeth leaps to her feet and slides onto thesettle at the queen’s side.

“Of course,Elizabeth. You grow so quickly you will be bursting out of yours again soon.”

“Kat Ashleysays I am like a weed,” she giggles. The queen kisses the top of her head andElizabeth snuggles against her. I feel a pang of envy for my sister hasn’tshown such affection to me since she was an infant. It is a long while since Ihave been cradled in anyone’s arms.

Katherine isso delighted with the samples my seamstress shows her that she not only ordersgowns for herself but also gifts for Elizabeth and me, and for herstepdaughter, Margaret.

The queen’sapartments have become my haven from care. It is always crowded, always lively.Her ladies are known to me; Lady Suffolk, Lady Hertford and Lady Lisle are thereon my recommendation. The new queen summons minstrels to fill the rooms withmusic, and we practise the latest dances, discuss the latest fashions. For thefirst time, I feel accepted and believe I can begin to enjoy life again.

For as long asI can remember I have walked in shadow, and now the sunshine that Katherine bringsto Hampton Court warms not only Father and my siblings, but me too. But thequeen is not all lightness and good cheer, she has other more serious intereststoo. Some of which do not please me.

I am grievedby her keenness for the new learning. She is misled, and believes the Romanchurch to be corrupt and archaic. As much as I love her, I cannot agree, andeven had I done so my own mother would turn in her grave if I was to supportsuch heresy. But it is the only thing Katherine and I cannot agree upon, and Ipray it will not come between us. When her friends begin to discuss religion, Islip away to the chapel and pray that the old ways endure.

She is alwayscareful not to speak of such things in the presence of the king, and I wondershe does not show such sensitivity to my own views, but … she knows that if shedispleases, I would not take her head, even had I that power.

The gardensare lovely in May. Once the dew has dried, the queen and her ladies escape outside.I join them to walk in the fresh air, where the call of the birds and thedroning of the bees evoke memories of the gardens at Greenwich when I was young.

Courtiersstroll among the flowers, and on the mead, minstrels are tuning theirinstruments. Katherine slips her arm through mine and calls to her small dog,Rig. He comes running, his curly ears flapping behind. Our women follow at adiscreet distance, ready to attend us should we need them.

“Is theresomething troubling you?” she asks as we turn a corner and duck beneath the leafyarch. I look at the sky, screwing up my