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

“What is that, Your Majesty?”

“Rebellion. I love my peopleand when Wyatt rose up against me, the hurt I felt was overwhelming but then,when it passed, I found I was furious.”

“Why did they rebel? Was itbecause of the church?”

“That; and their distrust ofPhilip. They were afraid, so they said, that the country would be overrun bythe Spanish. The English don’t like foreigners, Gardiner was right about that.Their fear of our blood being diluted rules their silly little hearts. They hadno love for Philip because of his nationality yet they love me, or most of themdo, and I am half Spanish. Any child I bore Philip would be more Spanish thanEnglish and they didn’t like the idea of that. Of course, they didn’t like thechanges taking place in the church either. Every one of the men who rose withWyatt against me were secret heretics.”

“What, why – was Your Majestyin danger?”

“I would have been, had they laidhands on me. I have no doubt that had my army not been the stronger, I’d havebeen taken down and thrown in the Tower while Elizabeth or Jane were raised inmy place.”

“Lady Jane Grey? I thought shewas imprisoned.”

“So she was, but once they’dmurdered me, they’d have soon had her out again. Her father was involved in theintrigue, fool that he was. I had pardoned him once but I wasn’t about to do soagain. That was why Jane had to die, do you see? I tried hard not to do it. Shewas my kin and I loved her, but she had to die, for the sake of England, forthe sake of the church.”

“It’s time for your physic, YourMajesty.”

I turn toward the sound ofSusan’s voice, and wave her away.

“Leave me alone, that stufftastes vile and does little good. What is the use?”

She sighs gustily, and whenshe speaks her tone is patient and caring.

“It can’t do any harm though,can it? Take it for me. To make me feel better.”

She places cool fingers beneathmy chin and guides me to the spoon. Small gestures like this prove that sheknows my sight has gone, although I’ve admitted to no one that I am now almostcompletely blind.

The concoction she feeds me isfoul, I almost spit it back at her but she keeps a hand on each cheek, as if tohelp me swallow. Just how old must one be before free of the obligation to thebidding of others? First my father, then his bullying henchmen, then my counciland now in my final days, I must obey my servants.

“Take this now, Your Majesty.”I open my mouth and she places a segment of orange on my tongue. Flavour floodsmy mouth. I grunt my appreciation as the taste brings memories of my infancywhen my world was full of sunshine and flavoured with citrus.

“So, you cut off her head, YourMajesty?”

“In the end, I had to.”

“Why?”

“Because of the uprising;because of her father; because while Jane lived she provided a rallying pointfor every heretic in England, and every exile overseas.”

“It doesn’t sound very fair toher. She didn’t do anything.”

“No; you’re right, it wasn’t.Life is seldom fair for noblewomen; especially Tudors.” I snatch my hand fromhers. “Are you criticising me?”

“Oh no, Your Majesty. I ammerely curious. I know you acted for the sake of England and the church.”

“Yes, I did. Mostly thechurch. Heresy is a plague, blown on the evil wind from Europe. It began in myfather’s day and where it will end … I can’t imagine. It is every Catholic’sduty to stamp out heresy whenever they see it.”

Silence falls. I can almosthear her thinking. I play with my rosary beads, the worn familiar surfacebringing a small glimmer of light into my darkness. I begin to mutter a prayer.

“I beg pardon?”

“Nothing, child, I was speakingwith God but no matter, there will be time for that later. He is always there. Wasthere something you were going to say?”

“Your Majesty, if the newreligion is wrong, why does God not strike the heretics down?”

Good question. I often wish Hewould.

“It is a test. He likes totest us. I am His instrument and He is striking out and showing His displeasurethrough me. I am His tool.”

“So, the fires … the fires atSmithfield, they are God’s will too?”

“They are.”

“I see. Tell me more about therebellion. Why did it begin and who started it?”

I motion for the cup and sheholds it to my lips while I moisten my tongue. Dabbing my chin with a kerchief,I think back to the early days of my reign. I had wanted to focus on mymarriage and the promise of children, but instead I had to defend my throneagainst another rebellion.

Susan said it wasn’t apersonal attack; the rebels had little argument against me. It was the truechurch they hated. As soon as I realised that, I knew they were fiends,instruments of the devil, sent to test me. I knew I would beat them for God wason my side.

Richmond Palace – February 1554

My women and I are sortingthrough a pile of fabric samples and trims for the fashioning of my weddingclothes. Someone is singing, the high melody accompanied by a lute. Bobbing herhead in time with the music, Susan holds a piece of lilac velvet against mycheek.

“Hmm,” shesays, “too pale.” She rummages through the jumble of velvet, and draws a deeperhue from the bottom. “This is better...”

The nap isthick and warm. I am rubbing my face against it when the door opens and StephenGardiner is announced. I sigh and do not rise to greet him but wait for him toapproach me.

“I hope youare well today, Your Majesty?” He bows over my hand, looking about the chamberas if wary that my women may be concealing an assassin. I regard himquizzically, growing suspicious of his errand.

“I am in goodhealth, sir, but please, dispense with formality. I can see you have news, soimpart it quickly.”

“I have beeninformed by the Imperial ambassador…”

“Renard?”

“Yes, YourMajesty. He informs me that he believes there is a conspiracy brewing … apossible rebellion in the making.”

“Rebellion?” Iam alert now. I stand up, straighten my shoulders and narrow my