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

Lord Richpulls out a chair from beneath the table and bids me sit on it. I obey asslowly and as regally as I can, perching perilously on the extreme edge andclasping my fingers tightly together. My whole body is tense, my musclesclenched as I wait for the blade of their displeasure to strike.

Rich clearshis throat.

“My lady, Iwill not mince my words. You are in breach of the king’s law. Despite ourseveral attempts to dissuade you from it, you and your household…” he lookspointedly at my hovering women, “… continue in your heresy.”

“Myheresy, sir? It is your reforms that have invited the anti-Christ into ourchurch.”

I stare coldlyinto his face. His lips compress, turn white, and the lower lid of his left eyetwitches.

“You must – weall must – comply with the changes in the law. You and your household imperilyour lives by ignoring the reforms.”

“You aremistaken, sir. My cousin, the emperor, believes I should be allowed to worshipas I see fit in the privacy of my home. He would be sore displeased were I tobe arrested for it. He has made that quite plain. Perhaps you would like him tocome and tell you so in person.”

It is like Hatfieldall over again. I am a defenceless child, pretending to be strong when inside Iam secretly quaking. My words are bluster and I fear he knows it.

“Lady Mary,you are the king’s beloved sister, the favourite of noblemen and commoneralike. We would be loath to fall out with you in this…”

“Loath to takemy head, you mean.” Rage stirs in my belly. I have never been able to carry outa measured debate, as always my ire rises and obliterates my reason.

He laughshumourlessly. “It will not come to that … unless, of course, you shouldpersist.”

I stand up,take three steps away from the table and turn abruptly.

“Persist inwhat, my lord? Praying in the manner I have been taught? In the manner of myfather and his father before him? Where is the sin in that? If there is sin init now, why was there none before? I have not changed, God has not altered. Itis you, it is the king. I am constant. I am Mary of England and before God Iswear my loyalty to the king, my brother, but … I am a good Catholic first andthat will ever be the case. Whether you use threats or violence against me, youwill never sway me from the true church.”

While Petrefumbles with a sheaf of papers, Rich regards me narrowly. I can almost hear thewords he stifles behind his beard.

“Very well. Ishall convey your message to my Lord Somerset and to the king. No doubt youwill soon be hearing from us again.”

He nods curtlybut does not take my hand this time. As their footsteps clatter down thecorridor, the company in the chamber sighs with combined relief. Someonegiggles nervously. We exchange tense glances, my stomach lurching at theirwhite faces, wide dilated eyes. I have put them all in danger.

“Oh, my lady!”Susan hurries forward and takes both my hands. “You were magnificent!”

“Was I, Susan?Magnificent? I didn’t feel it.”

I manage adilute smile but my counterfeit courage is rapidly dwindling with my rage, forRich is right about one thing. They will be back.

It is as well thatI am far from court, for events are happening swiftly, the seat of powershifting and changing. My spies bring me tales of dissention at Edward’s court;resentment of the Duke of Somerset is high and it is not long before he isousted. The Earl of Warwick, John Dudley, having become too big for his bootsafter his success in the war with Scotland and putting down the recentrebellion in Norfolk picks up the reins of government.

I’ve never hadany love for Somerset but John Dudley makes my hackles rise all the more. He isan upstart, an ambitious, remorseless bully, and I hate to think of my brotherin his hands. While Edward is kept fast within the palace, a ring of protectionabout him prevents even his closest kin from seeing him. I would wager myfavourite horse he has no idea of the peril his councillors have placed me in.

My life is inthe deepest peril. I am in more danger now than I have ever been. My man, Rochester,having met secretly with Dubois, visits me in my chamber; his presence more aworry than a comfort. He tells me the plans laid down by my cousin in Spain areunderway, his ships lie off the coast ready to take me to safety.

“I am loath toescape England,” I tell him. But, what else can I do? It is all in hand. The emperorhas sent ships to escort me to Spain. It is what my mother would wish.

Spain. All Iknow of that land are stories my mother told; tales of a bright sun, exotic fruitsand mosaic halls, blackamoors and olive trees. I picture it now as I did when Iwas a child, at my mother’s knee – a one dimensional world, painted in primarycolours. The thought of leaving England fills me with fear but my enemies arereal, and my brother lacks the authority to control them. Perhaps it is betterthat I leave.

Rochesterscrews his cap between his hands and comes closer to speak urgently in my ear.

“My honestopinion is that you should stay, my lady. It isn’t safe. Watches have been postedon every road. If you decide to flee, then you must be prepared for a fight,but I think you should stay. If you leave England’s shores, you do so for good.I think it would be wiser to remove to your house at St Osyth – that way youwill be close enough to escape to the sea should the need arise later.”

My bags arealready packed, my women primed and ready to leave, but my love of England hasme tied fast to the bedpost. I grasp the lifeline Rochester offers.

I stand up andmove toward the hearth, staring into the leaping orange flames. I can feeltheir heat on my face and hold my hand closer, wondering