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

I watch theanxious faces ringed about my table and don’t know who I should heed. Paget waspart of Northumberland’s coup attempt; he preferred Jane to me then. Can Itrust him? Even Gardiner is wary of my proposed marriage to Spain. Can Itrust any of them?

I look upontheir grey faces. Most of them haven’t washed this morning, they’ve been up allnight, their beards bedraggled, their eyes ringed with shadows. I rub my chin,as my father used to, and squeeze my bottom lip as I struggle to reach adecision. Affecting a calm I do not really feel, I place both hands palm downon the table and speak quietly.

“We willremain where we are. It is my city. The inhabitants deserve our protection.”

A wave ofvoices assaults me. I close my eyes, seek a grip on my patience and hold up myhand until their protests dwindle.

“The peopleare afraid for their lives. This morning I shall ride out and offer themcomfort, reassure them of our unstinting protection.” I rise to my feet and,with much muttering and shaking of heads, the council does the same.

I order mywomen to dress me in sombre hues, and wear a coat cut in the masculine fashion.My palfrey is caparisoned like a warhorse. As we near Guildhall, the crowdincreases, the cries of the people making my blood throb. These people areloyal but they are full of fear. Their terror is infectious. My head ispounding, but I cannot relax. I keep my back straight, and my shoulders astight as a vice.

Ahead, theguildhall gleams white against a blue sky, black carrion birds circling highabove it. I manoeuvre my horse so that all assembled can see me, and I hold myright hand high to silence the crowd. Slowly, the shouting lessens, and the clamouringbodies grow still. Their faces turn up to look at me. I lower my arm.

“Good people,”I cry and a cheer goes up at the sound of my voice. If only all men could loveme as these humble folk do. I smile lovingly on them, my eyes misting, but Iblink the tears away. There will be time for weeping later. My horse’s hooves shiftand slip on the wet black cobbles, but I hold him firm.

‘I am your Queen, and at mycoronation, when I was wedded to the realm and laws of the same, you promisedyour allegiance and obedience to me…. And I say to you, on the word of aPrince, I cannot tell how naturally the mother love the child, for I was neverthe mother of any; but certainly, if a Prince and Governor may earnestly loveher subjects as the mother does love the child, then assure yourselves that I,being your lady and mistress, do as earnestly and tenderly love and favour you.And I, thus loving you, cannot but think that you as heartily and faithfullylove me; and then I doubt not but we shall give these rebels a short and speedyoverthrow’.

Cheers shatterthe quiet of the street as a sea of hands waves and eddies. Gardiner and Paget,whose horses flank mine, exchange grim nods of satisfaction. Rochester goes asfar as to wink at me. Ignoring his impertinence, we push our way back throughthe crowd, and as we do so, the people surge forward to touch my horse, graspmy heel.

I reach out tobless those closest, to reassure them with my presence and the touch of a royalhand. But in truth I am the one more comforted; their willingness to fight fora queen who refuses to flee revitalises my resolve.

When Wyattattacks our city gate, we will be ready for him and the citizens of London willshow him exactly what they think of his intrigue and treason. It will not belong before London Bridge boasts the head of another traitor.

The bridge issecured, and every city gate is guarded night and day by men in harness. Atfirst light, when Wyatt leads his army toward Southwark, he finds his wayforward is barred. My informants tell me he lingers there for three days beforeriding off.

“That was easy,”I remark to Rochester, but he shakes his head.

“Your Majesty,I fear Wyatt has not given up but has merely gone to seek another passage intothe city.”

I wait at thepalace, asking every few minutes if there has been any word. I am stillstanding at the window when Rochester at last brings news that Wyatt has nowmarched his army west, along the south bank, and managed to cross the riverthere. He is now trekking back north toward the city again, where LordClinton’s army, positioned at St James’ Field, lies in wait for them.

I pray to Godhe manages to hold them back, for the news from elsewhere is discouraging. Someof my forces are proving craven in the face of action. When Wyatt fires hisfirst shots, Sir John Gage, whose army is almost a thousand strong, turns tailand flees. When this news reaches us, the palace falls into confused panic andI am filled with a greater fury than I have ever felt before.

At three inthe morning, I am roused by the sounds of hurrying footsteps. Men are shoutingclose by my chamber. A thundering of fists sounds on the door.

“Your Majesty!The city is under attack!”

I leap frombed, pull on a loose gown and hurry to the council chamber with my feet bare,my braided hair flying out behind. When I crash into the room, not one member ofmy council bats an eye at my dishabille.

“What news,gentlemen?” I demand, bending over the table and drawing a candle close so Ican read the messages. For my protection, the room is ringed with men at arms;my women, who have followed me, cling together. One of the youngest girls issobbing hysterically, her high-pitched whimpers like nails in my head. Suchbehaviour will diminish us all.

“Shut her upbefore I slap her myself!” I cry before turning my attention back to the matterin hand. The men of my council flock around me and bleat like sheep.

“Your Majesty,I really think you should try to get to safety. Shall I order the royal barge?Wyatt is close to