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

doubt intrudes, begins to dominate. Iam accustomed to failure, why should this be any different?

“Dudley willcapture me, I know he will,” I whisper, suddenly glad of Susan’s comforting armthat creeps about my shoulder.

“It will soonbe time to leave, Your Majesty. You will be safer at Kenninghall.”

“Framlinghamwill be safer still,” I reply, allowing her to push me onto a stool and pin onmy hood. “Northumberland’s men will not be far behind us.”

We pass throughunfamiliar corridors, descend the stairs to the hall where a hasty supper hasbeen laid out. When I enter, the babble of conversation ceases, servants dissolvefrom sight, and Lady Burgh steps forward.

“Your Majesty,”she says and, to my astonishment, the entire company drops to their knees. Ihad forgotten for a moment that I am queen. It feels so strange.

“Up, up,” Isay and, pushing my shoulders back, I hold my head high like my father used to,and move forward. I hold out my hand.

“Lady Burgh, whata lovely welcome. You have conjured an appetising supper for us, I see.”

“It is mypleasure, Your Majesty. I am honoured to be of service.”

She ushers metoward the top table and I take my seat, picking up a napkin.

“We must eatand leave, I am afraid, Lady Burgh. Important matters await our attention.”

“Yes, YourMajesty, so I have been informed. I – I will join the party, if you will allow.I have no wish to confront Northumberland’s men when they arrive. You haveheard he is in pursuit … and of what happened at Sawston after your departure?”

“No. Whathappened?” Suddenly alert, I seek out my comptroller. “Rochester? Whathappened?”

Robert risesto his feet, places his cup on the table.

“I would haveinformed you of it later, Your Majesty. It seems Dudley took offence at the supportthey offered you and … he ordered Sawston Hall be put to the torch, YourMajesty.”

“They burnedit?”

“Yes, YourMajesty.”

I do notanswer at once. In my mind’s eye I see the noble building, the elegantinterior, the mullions twinkling in the sunshine. Now it has been engulfed byflames. Hate grumbles in my heart.

“We willrebuild it, in gratitude for Huddlestone’s assistance.”

A murmur ofappreciation eddies around the room but, looking down at the plate before me, Ifind I have lost my appetite. Dudley’s men are not far behind me, and they areburning and murdering in my wake. How dare he? How dare he injure and punishmy subjects for assisting me? He will suffer for this. If I am ever in theposition to wreak justice upon him, he will suffer greatly.

My growing companytakes to the road again just after supper. It is a warm night, the gatheringdark hampering the speed at which we travel. Rochester has set men at the headand the rear of the party, and my women and I are ringed by a small guard. Despitethe precautions, I still feel vulnerable, exposed to the elements, sure thereare assassins hidden in the trees. Susan waves her hand to gain my attention.

“We will soonbe there, Your Majesty. Safe in your own bed chamber.”

But there islittle hope of sleep, and somehow I no longer crave it. Although I am weary tothe bone, my mind is sharp and my blood surging, ready for the fight of mylife.

As soon as wereach the security of Kenninghall, while the men loyal to me hone their swordsand prepare for battle if needs be, I will take up my pen. I will write to theloyal Catholics of England, the former friends of my mother, and beg theirallegiance.

It is almostmorning when we ride into the bailey. As I hurry through the hall, tearing offmy gloves and casting my cloak to the floor, my women scurry behind, picking upafter me.

“Gather thehousehold, I want to address them,” I order as I march into my privy chamber.The servants scurry round, a girl throws logs on the fire while another closesthe shutters and brings a tray of wine.

It iscomforting to be back in my own house where things are governed to my own will.Without stopping to refresh myself, I sit down and draw up a list of men inwhose loyalty I trust. Then I descend to the hall. At the turn of the staircase,I pause and look down at the upturned faces of my household. As one they fallto their knees.

Most of themhave been with me through the darkest days of my brother’s reign. They are goodhonest Catholics and I must do my best to defend their liberty, their church. Idescend further and make my way to the dais where I clasp my hands, lift mychin and begin to speak.

“You will haveheard that my brother, King Edward, has departed this life. The right to thecrown of England has, by divine and human law, descended to me.”

A great cheerarises, caps are tossed high in the air. Their joy is so great that in spite ofeverything, I find myself smiling. I wipe away a tear and hold up my hands.

“Good people!”I cry over their jubilation. “Our job is not yet done. Our country is in thehands of the Duke of Northumberland. He has named Jane Grey queen; Jane, who isa Protestant and his son’s wife too! This is treason and as yet we lackthe numbers to stand against him, but every day our number is growing. I am notyet defeated, not so long as I have your stout Catholic hearts behind me!”

Their criesare deafening. I smile, my cheeks stretching, my jaw aching. “I implore thoseof you who can to ride out and muster men and ammunition, while I send word tothose loyal to me who live farther afield. We will build a great army and musterat Framlingham.”

Men mill aboutthe hall, kissing their wives and sweethearts, and calling for horses that theymight galvanise this thing … this war … into action. For war it shall be.

“Come to bed, YourMajesty,” Susan yawns. “You can write in the morning.”

The candle atmy side is smoking. I light a fresh one and extinguish the old, picking up myquill again.

“Not yet. Thisneeds to be done now. The letters must be ready for dispatch by dawn. Therewill be time to rest once this battle is won.”

She