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

get there I am overwhelmed to learn thatthe succession has been amended. Now, although Edward will still inherit thethrone, should my brother die without issue, the crown will go to me. If I too diechildless, then Elizabeth will be queen.

I don’t expectit will happen, of course. Katherine may yet bear the king a son, and Edward isstrong and healthy – and I would never wish ill upon my little brother merelyto gain a royal crown. It is just so glorious to be fully acknowledged as theking’s daughter, and a legitimate princess of the realm.

I find Icannot stop smiling. Katherine’s love of learning encourages the erudite toflock to England and the court fills with the greatest thinkers of the age. Ido not welcome all of them because too often they speak of heresy. I will notsupport those who decry the old religion. I am at a loss to understand how theycan turn their backs on a thousand years of tradition and embrace these evilways. I am disappointed in the queen’s heretic leanings but if Father knows ofit, he chooses to ignore the fact. The one thing I am thankful for is that,despite breaking ties with Rome, the king continues to worship in the old way,albeit without the intervention of the Pope.

And so it goeson. The slow disintegration of the church I love is masked beneath a gauze offamilial well-being. Every time Katherine tries to steer me onto her hereticpath, I hold her off, not tempted by the vulgar crudity of the new religion, andas much in love as ever with the gentle grace of the old.

My days andevenings are full, and I discover that, although not entirely happy, I am atleast content. I eat, I pray, I dance, I attend court, I visit my siblings, Igive alms to the poor, visit the sick and placate my father as best I can. Itis a period of peace and in the years that follow I look back upon that timewith deep longing.

But such halcyondays never last and our tranquillity is shattered when Father, seeminglyrecovered from his recent megrim, declares war on France. All talk at court nowturns to war. Father thinks it will be an easy victory and no one dares todisagree.

He spreads themap across the table in the chamber where the family have gathered after supperand invites us to examine it.

“While Spainkeeps France occupied on the opposite border, we will regain all our lostterritories. Remember Agincourt?”

“I wasn't born,Your Grace,” the queen replies with a laugh.

“Well, Iremember it, and France remembers it too. How could they ever forget such asound beating? I tell you, we will have Montreuil and Boulogne under our controlwithin the blink of an eye.”

He pokes themap and Katherine leans over his shoulder while we all follow his stubby fingeraround the rugged south coast of England.

“The south iswell-fortified now. The new defensive outposts I’ve raised in the last fewyears will stand us in good stead. I'm not prepared to wait for France to cometo us, so we will invade just here. While Spain keeps them occupied over there,we will split the French forces in two. Norfolk will take Montreuil, andSuffolk and I will besiege Boulogne. The plans are already underway.”

 “Is Norfolknot a little too old?”

“What, Norfolk?The man is still in his prime.”

The Duke ofNorfolk must be close to seventy but nobody argues. Our duty is to amuse and supportthe king, not to give him cause for concern, but I cannot help being worried.

“What aboutthe Scots?” I ask. “What will they do? Won’t they join with France against us?”

“Hertford willkeep them busy. Don't you worry about that; and while I'm gone I will be trustingall else to the Queen. Kate will be regent in my absence.”

This isclearly news to the queen. She sits down suddenly, her face paling.

“Regent, Henry?Of all England? Me?”

“Why not?You’re the queen, aren’t you?”

The kingstands feet akimbo, hands on hips in his old manner. I avert my eye from thestained bandage spoiling the line of his hose and hope he is still asinvincible as he imagines.

“In charge of thewhole country? To sit at council and make decisions?”

She looks atme. I raise my brows and pull a face at the enormity of the expected task. Theking takes her wrist and pulls her close, his arms sliding about her waist. Shedoesn’t pull away.

“You can doit, Kate. Long ago, when I rode to war, I left another Queen Catherine incharge. I trust you to do just as well.”

My mother.My mouth falls open in surprise. He is praising my mother who not only stood asregent over England but fought and defeated the Scottish king at Flodden too!My heart swells at the thought. I step forward.

“I will helpyou, Katherine,” I say, without thinking what it might entail. “I will be gladto.”

I am more oftenin the queen’s company now. We have a shared love of fine clothes, jewels andmusic. It is only in matters of religion that we differ but I am so starved ofaffection that I push that to one side. When I see her in animated conversationwith followers of the new learning, I try not to mind. With gentle persuasion Itry instead to turn her from the path of reform and she, in turn, tries to turnme. It is like a half-hearted tug of war in which there is never a victor.

I come uponthe queen one evening as she is writing, her nose bent close to the parchmentin the ill light.

“Oh,” I say,ready to withdraw. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

She puts downher pen and swivels in her seat.

“No, please,Mary. Come; I have worked too long. I will develop a squint if I do not stopsoon.”

She summons aservant to pour the wine.

“What are youworking on?” I ask as I watch the liquid swirl into the cup.

“Oh, just afew thoughts of my own.”

“Oh. Is it atranslation? I recently read my great grandmother, Margaret Beaufort’s Mirrorof Gold for the Sinful Soul. I should really undertake something similarmyself, I began to once but … well, I didn’t finish it.”

“You shouldindeed, Mary. I