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

but what shedoes say has immediate impact. She turns belatedly to greet me, sweeps adisparaging eye over my elaborate gown, my pale and unprepossessing face. Thefingers that lie in my palm are cool and slender, her smile bewitching.

“It is good tosee you again, Sister,” she says with no hint of irony. She kisses each cheek,her hands firm on my shoulders, swamping me with the scent of citrus and cinnamon.Her fragrance is as exotic as her appearance.

From looking,one would never know the extent of the scandal that taints her name; there iscertainly no hint that she cares. Did she really dally with Thomas Seymour?I wonder. Has she already tasted the mysteries of a man’s body?

As we take ourseats, one either side of the king, I take note of the gracious slope of hershoulder, her long graceful neck and the youthful glow of her cheek. Perhaps itwasn’t just ambition that tempted Seymour to sample her; he certainly nevercame back for a second try at me.

“I have a giftfor you, Your Majesty,” she says, signalling to her woman to pass her a smallpackage. “I translated it myself, and embroidered the cover too, for yourdelectation.”

Edward takesand unwraps a small book, and even from my seat I can see the skill of theneedleworked cover. I wish I’d chosen something more personal than the jewelledcandlesticks I’d bought for him. Elizabeth has always managed to get everythingright, seemingly without effort. I, on the other hand, misjudge everybody and geteverything wrong.

For a few days,all is well. We eat too much, drink too much, and I even take to the floor anddance a few times. Elizabeth dances too and is never short of partners, but theking, declaring it makes him cough, is content to watch from his throne.

For all the showI make of festivity, I do not enjoy my time at court. I am too aware of theheresy that surrounds me. My cheeks burn when I notice the sideways glances atmy clothes, and the raised eyebrows of the courtiers when I take my seat besidethe king. Everyone stares, everyone whispers, barely disguising their disapproval.I feel like a foreigner; an interloper, a stranger with stranger habits who isforced to pray in the privacy of her chambers instead of joining the rest ofthe court at chapel.

Most of myfriends are in disgrace, either in the Tower or uninvited or unwilling toattend Edward’s Protestant court. The Catholics of England keep to their ownhouses, risking life and liberty to pray in the secrecy of their own chapels.

But I have managedto avoid offending the king and so I must conclude that the visit has gonewell. Soon I will be able to return home, and breathe a little more freely, awayfrom the spies of the king’s council. It is the day before I am due to leave whenEdward summons me and tries to gently persuade me as to the error of my ways.

“I am concerned,sweet sister,” he says gently, “that you risk everlasting punishment for prayingas you do. It is against God’s wishes. You should pray with the rest of us inthe chapel, not in your own closet like some leper.”

I sighinwardly and force my angry features into a smile. He is little more than achild and cannot really understand.

“My dearbrother, my sweet king, you are not yet old enough to make your own decision asto religion. Pray allow me to make up my own.”

 “And you,sister, are not yet too old to learn that you are mistaken.”

Not too old? Iclamp my lips together as the words echo in my head, the response I long tomake is frozen upon my tongue. It is not Edward’s fault. I will notblame him. He is merely repeating lessons he has learned by rote. I know heloves me and has no inkling of the hurt he inflicts.

I bite mytongue, bow my head and execute a deep curtsey. When I rise, I cannot hide the sorrowor the moistness of my eyes, and on seeing my tears, he leaps to his feet.

“Mary,sister!” He holds out his hands and hurries toward me, places his palms upon mycheeks, his face close to mine.

“I would notinjure you for all the world,” he says. “You were a mother to me when my ownwas taken but … I fear you will burn, Mary! There is nothing I can doto…”

I snatch hishands away from my cheeks.

“You are the king,Edward,” I hiss. “Of course there is something you can do to stop them. You canstop all of this!”

I sweep my armat the gathering and, turning on my heel, I quit his presence without waitingfor his permission.

As I hurryalong the corridor, expecting any moment to hear the tramp of the royal guardbehind me, I tear the veil from my hair, scattering pearls as I go. On enteringmy chamber, I cast it aside.

“Get out!” Ishout and my attendants scurry away with white, shocked faces.

I sit on a lowstool at the fireside, my head in my hands until Susan enters, breathless from herhasty pursuit of me from the hall. I look up and let out a scream offrustration.

“I cannot bearit, Susan! They are like devils. How can they be so blind to their own sin?They have turned my noble brother into a bigot and a bully!”

I break intosobs, my head heavy in my hands.

“Oh, my lady,he didn’t mean it…”

“Start makingready for a journey,” I snarl as I dash my face dry on my sleeve. “We areleaving.”

Copped Hall, Essex – August 1551

So I retire to Copped Hall andshroud myself in misery. I know the world cannot be exactly as I would have it.I understand that Edward is the king and I love him dearly, it is the men whorule him that I abhor. They are tainting all England with their evil beliefsand spoiling my brother who, without such influence, could bring England backto Rome.

If I allowmyself to dwell on the absurdities taking place in the realm, I may run mad. Ipick up my lute again and fix my mind on more pleasant matters. From now on, Ishall try to see only flowers in