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

mean to depose our anointed queen, marrythe Princess Elizabeth and together make a bid for Queen Mary’s throne.”

He jumps up,his chair crashing to the floor.

“Nay, sir,that is not so! It is a foul lie!”

He runs a handthrough his hair so it stands like a rooster’s comb – coxcomb that he is.Gardiner sits back and regards him with cold, unblinking eyes.

“I have swornstatements that state otherwise.”

“Then they arefalse, my lord. I swear, on my life, I am a true subject of the queen.”

His face ispale, his tongue emerges in a vain attempt to wet his lips.

“You deny thatyou have sought the hand of Princess Elizabeth?”

Courtenaycoughs, splutters. I can almost see the cold sweat breaking on his brow.

“I – I admirethe princess greatly, but I would never do anything to place her in danger. Ihave no wish to put her on the throne. I don’t want to marry her and have noplan to.”

“Since Her Majestyhas been magnanimous enough to restore your lands and title of the Earl ofDevon, there are a hundred noblewomen who would welcome a match with you. Isthat enough for you?”

“More than enough,sir, truly. I greatly value my liberty. Her Majesty has been my very goodfriend, and I am hers.”

He takes out akerchief, mopping his forehead while Gardiner’s lip rises in one corner andanswers with a snarl.

“So say Wyattand Carew, so say James Croft and Henry Grey. The secret is out; you might aswell assist us further in our investigation, unless you’d prefer to face theconsequences.”

Courtenayslumps, his head lolling with the whisper of a sob. Gardiner strikes while hisfoe is weak.

“Come, sir,sit down and tell me all about it. It is the only way to save yourself. I swear,if you co-operate, the queen will hear no ill of you from me.”

I bite my lipat Gardiner’s lie, and hold my breath while I listen, sickened to the core asCourtenay vomits up every detail of the treachery against me.

“Summon mysister to court. I will brook no delays.” I march along the corridor toward myprivy chambers, scattering orders while a scribe follows, his pen sputteringbeneath the speed at which I travel.

My instinct isto strike hard and fast, but Gardiner urges a soft approach.

“We need not hurry,Your Majesty; I think it wise to let them all implicate themselves so we havesomething to use against them. Let them make the first move. We know everythingand will be ready to strike as soon as they act.”

“I will not begoverned by my subjects.”

“No, madam.”

I peer at him,scrutinising his face. He has no love for Spain and has championed an Englishmarriage often enough. Perhaps even he is against me. Can I truly place mytrust in him?

“I will givenotice of my forthcoming nuptial, let there be no mistake. Perhaps anannouncement will prompt them to act sooner – force them into action.”

He closes hiseyes, inclining his head in agreement.

While my womengather muttering in the opposite corner, I sit and compose a statement to besent out across the realm.

 ‘Certainill-disposed persons, under the pretence of misliking this marriage, mean torebel against the Catholic religion and divine service within this our realm,and to take from us that liberty which is not denied to the meanest woman inthe choice of husband, spread false reports of our cousin stirring up oursubjects by those and other devilish ways to rebel.’

 

Within days,we learn that Carew has fled to France, and Suffolk, for the intention ofraising a rebellion in Leicestershire, is arrested and thrown into the Tower.Wyatt, however, continues to elude us and remains at large with the men of Kentbehind him.

“I needElizabeth under lock and key,” I rage at the council, “she is a loose cannon, arallying call for my enemies.”

 I sit downand write her a letter, demanding her attendance at court, leaving her in nodoubt that I expect to be obeyed.

‘Tenderingthe surety of your person, which might be in some peril if any sudden tumultshould arise, either where you be now or at Donnington, whither, as weunderstand, you are bound shortly to remove, do therefore think it expedientyou should put yourself in good readiness with all convenient speed to make yourrepair hither to us, which we pray you, fail not to do.’

 

As soon as themessage is on its way, I begin to bite my nails, worrying she will disobey meand ride out to lead the rebel army herself. I can imagine her, pale andvaliant upon a white palfrey, winning the hearts of the people as she ridesagainst me. I shake my head, dispelling the image.

 She will, ofcourse, have been expecting my summons and has already ignored one polite requestto come to court. It is clear to me that someone, some spy, is keeping herabreast of events. I have no doubt she is as deeply involved in this treacheryas it is possible to be.

A few dayslater, she sends word that she is ailing and cannot face the difficulties oftravel when the roads are so heavy with winter mud.

I remember howas a child she used imagined headaches and belly upsets to get her own way. Iremember how she’d wilt on her bed, feigning sickness while her women rushed tofetch warming possets and extra blankets, and then she’d catch my eye and winkat me.

Elizabeth hasnot changed at all. She is lying. I know she is.

Westminster Palace – February 1554

As mycourtiers dissolve into hysteria and the Imperial commissioners flee in fear oftheir lives to the Netherlands, Wyatt’s army draws closer to the capital. Thenews on every hand is not good. To his fury, a section of Norfolk’s men havedeserted and joined the rebels. While my army depletes, Wyatt’s forceincreases. With thunderous brows, my ministers stalk the palace corridors,arguing and shouting while clusters of women snivel and gossip in the cornersof my privy apartments.

They aredriving me mad!

I leave themto their tears and go in search of my advisors and, while the citizens of Londongo in peril of their lives, I discover my council chambers a riot of conflictingadvice, and portents of doom.

“You mustleave the capital, Your Majesty, take refuge at Windsor; preserve yourself thatyou might fight another day.”

“No, YourMajesty!” cries