Queen of This Realm (18 page)

Gardiner was very annoyed with Arundel, particularly as some other members of the Council were swaying toward the Earl, and Gardiner saw that he was losing sympathy—and with it authority.

They took their leave and when they did, Arundel went on his knees and kissed my hand. That gave me new courage. I had a certain power of which people were aware but I must not allow myself to be deceived by undue optimism and must try to look clearly into the hearts and minds of my enemies. How much of the deference these men showed me was due to my own personal abilities and how much to the fact that I was young and Mary was ill and aging? How many were asking themselves: This young woman who is being persecuted could be our Queen one day. What then? She will remember me this day.

But I had begun to regain a little of my spirits and with that came hope.

One day seemed to merge into another—so alike were they. When I awoke my first thoughts were, What will happen today? I used to dream that the people rose up and came to free me. They had always loved me better
than Mary. They said I was my father's daughter, that I looked like him, that I had his spirit. Would any care enough? It was significant that my room was immediately below the great alarm bell. Had they put me there to remind me that at any attempt to escape that bell would ring out, warning my captors of my flight?

In my mind I died a thousand deaths during those weeks. I would wake in the morning and put my hands to my throat. My mother had said hysterically, when she knew what her fate was to be: “I have a little neck…” I wished I could stop thinking of her.

Such mental anguish must have its effect on the body. I became ill and had to keep to my bed. This alarmed my jailers and I was quick to sense their uneasiness.

The day for Wyatt's execution came and on the scaffold he made a brave speech in which he accepted full responsibility for his actions and wholeheartedly withdrew the accusations he had made against me and Courtenay under torture.

I was greatly relieved because now there was no true case against me. Gardiner, Renaud and all my enemies would have to be very careful before they sentenced me to death. It was like a reprieve.

News drifted in from the outside world. My servants talked with the guards and so I learned something of what was going on. Wyatt's body had been barbarously treated after the execution and parts of it were exhibited over the town, while his head was attached to a gallows at Hay Hill near Hyde Park.

When I heard that after Wyatt's confession Courtenay was released but exiled, my hopes rose. Surely they could not keep me prisoner now! Wyatt had confessed that he had wrongfully incriminated me and that I had nothing to do with his insurrection, so what reason had they for keeping me in the Tower?

A very big one, they might say. I was a menace to the plans for returning England to Rome, which the greater majority of the people did not want. I would not be the first person of royal blood who had been sent to a lifetime in the Tower for no other reason than that she or he possessed a claim to royalty.

But they were very much afraid. My health was causing anxiety. They wanted my death but they did not want to be accused of causing it.

A doctor was sent to me and it was suggested that I should take a little air and exercise. There was what they called a lead—a very narrow path— which the warders used when they wanted to get from one Tower to another. This path between the battlements went from a door in the Bell Tower to one in the Beauchamp Tower. I could have no hope of escaping
from this narrow path and just in case an attempt was made, two guards were to walk in front of me and one behind.

Even such a small concession was welcome. It was pleasant to be able to escape from the stone walls to the fresh air even with such restraints.

I was quite friendly with my guards for that affinity with the common people was ever present in my nature and they were courteous to me—partly because no doubt they remembered that I would one day be their Queen.

We would pause on the path and look round and I would ask questions about the Tower of which they were very proud and knowledgeable.

We would walk right along the lead to the Beauchamp Tower.

“I'll swear there are prisoners in there who would long to walk along the lead as far as the Bell Tower,” I said.

They agreed that this must be so and one added: “I know of one who more than most chafes against inactivity, my lady.”

“Oh? And who might that be?” I asked. “Lord Robert Dudley. He is there… poor gentleman…a most handsome nobleman of much grace. He is under sentence of death and knows not each day when he wakes whether it will be his last.”

“I knew him once,” I said. “He was at my father's Court with his father. We played together when we were children. The others I have forgotten but I remember Robert Dudley well. I am sorry he is in such state now, but his father rose against the Queen and has paid the price for treason, and Robert Dudley stood with his father.”

“His brothers too, my lady. It is not long since Lord Guildford and my Lady Jane walked to their deaths.”

“Poor Lady Jane! She was blameless. Her father forced her to it and she had no choice but to obey.”

I fell silent after that. I should not be talking thus; but then I was always over-friendly with those below my rank. It was what made me so popular with the people.

When I returned from my walk on the lead, I could not stop thinking of Robert Dudley. His position was more unsafe than my own for he was actually under sentence of death.

I shivered, hoping that he would escape such a fate. Why should I care? Didn't he deserve it? He was one of those who had tried to put Jane Grey on the throne. But only because he had stood with his father. It was Northumberland who had raised the rebellion and made Jane Queen for little over a week at the cost of his own life and those of Jane and his son Guildford.

The Queen was justified in sending Robert Dudley to the Tower and sentencing him to death for that matter.

All the same he had made quite an impression on me as a child and he had an exceptional charm. I did not like to think of his handsome head being severed from his body.

SOME WEEKS LATER
I was told by the guards that permission had been given for me to take a walk in the Tower Gardens. It is amazing what pleasure such small concessions can give when one has so little; and I well remember my walk in the gardens where the spring flowers were in bloom and the air seemed so fresh and balmy.

Moreover there were children playing in the gardens and I had always been interested in children. I had the same affinity with them as I had with ordinary people. I could speak to them as I could to the people, without royal reserve—which is very rare in persons of high rank.

There was one charming little boy. He must have been about five years old, perhaps younger. He smiled at me and said: “Good-day, Mistress.”

I paused and asked his name.

“It is Martin, Mistress,” he replied. “What is yours?”

“Elizabeth,” I told him.

“Do you walk in these gardens often?” he asked.

“Whenever I can. Do you?”

He nodded. “We live over there.”

“Martin!” Someone was calling him. I looked round and saw a young woman hurrying toward us. She dropped a curtsy and I smiled at her.

“I trust, my lady, the boy was not annoying you,” she said.

“Far from it. We were enjoying our conversation, were we not, Martin?”

He stared at me, tongue-tied before the woman who I presumed was his mother.

She told me that her husband was Keeper of the Queen's Robes and that Martin was allowed to play in the gardens because they did not often have distinguished visitors to them.

I said: “I trust my presence here will not mean that Martin is kept away. I should be most distressed if that were so.”

She took the child by his hand and bobbed a curtsy.

“You are very kind, my lady. Martin is a friendly boy and likes to talk.”

“Then I hope there will be other meetings for us, Martin,” I said.

I watched while she took him away. I felt warmed by the encounter.

After that I saw Martin often. He would smile when he saw me and run to me gleefully. Once he brought me some flowers and I was so delighted with this show of affection that he made a habit of it.

One day he said: “There is a gentleman in there.” He pointed to the walls of the Beauchamp Tower. “I see him when I go with my father.”

“What sort of gentleman?”

“A very nice gentleman.”

“Does he talk to you?”

“Yes, he does.”

“As I do?”

He nodded.

“What does he say?”

“He says there is a princess in the Tower. My lady, is it you?”

“Yes,” I said. “And did you tell him that you had spoken with me?”

He nodded.

“And what did he say?”

He said: “Tell the Princess… tell the Princess…”

“Yes, yes.”

He was concentrating hard trying to remember. He said: “Tell her…”

“Yes, yes, tell her what?”

He frowned and finally burst out: “That I am thinking of her and—”

“And what?”

“How…I can serve her.”

“He really asked you to tell me that?”

He nodded vigorously.

“And you have not told anyone else… only me.”

Again that nod. “The gentleman said…”

“Yes, yes.”

“Only tell you… and no one else.”

I stooped and kissed him. “Thank you, Martin. You are a very clever boy.”

He looked pleased and when I went back to my prison I thought a great deal about Robert Dudley.

THE GLOOM SEEMED
to be lifting. I felt alive again. It was ridiculous. I was still a prisoner in the Tower and my enemies were still plotting my downfall; but the thought that there was someone here—a young handsome man of about my own age—who was thinking of me, sending me messages, assuring me of his devotion, worked like a miracle with me. My health improved. The great occasions of my days were those interludes in the gardens. Another child had joined us. This was Susannah, the daughter of one of the warders. The children would walk with me and enliven me with their childish prattle and young Martin, with the dignity of his five years—I think Susannah could not have been more than three—conveyed messages between Robert Dudley and me. He was able to tell Lord Robert that his
messages had heartened me and my thoughts were with him, even as his were with me.

It was an exciting game for the child, and his youth made him an excellent participator in the intrigue. I could have wished he had been a bit older though, then perhaps our messages could have been more productive; but I suppose if he had been I should not have been allowed this friendship with him.

There was little Robert Dudley could offer me other than comfort, nor I him. We were not such fools as to think about escape. That would be folly. Failure would surely cost me my head. What we did for each other was to establish a communion of friendship which I was to remember always, and often in later years my thoughts would go back to that garden and the messages of comfort which I received from the prisoner in the Beauchamp Tower. Robert's close presence gave me strength when I needed it and courage to endure what was waiting for me, as my responses did for him.

I do not know how long this would have gone on but for one unfortunate incident.

I used to tell the children stories of my life and they knew that I was a princess. I would describe the Court to them and the feasts which used to take place in the great banqueting halls. They listened avidly and it dawned on them that I must be living very differently as a prisoner in the Tower.

Their eyes would fill with tears when I told them that I had been brought here because the Queen was not pleased with me. I was flattered because they could not understand how anyone could be unkind to me.

One day Susannah found a bunch of keys in the gardens. They must have been dropped by one of the warders when he was hurrying from one tower to another… Keys opened doors, reasoned Susannah; and she had seen the guards escort me to and from the gardens. Her experiences of the Tower told her that people were locked up there, so she thought that if I had the keys I should be able to open doors and escape.

She brought the keys to me.

“They are for you, Mistress,” she said. “Now you can open the doors and stop being a prisoner in the Tower.”

Her innocent eyes were full of love for me and delight in her cleverness in giving me the means of freedom. I put my arms round her and kissed her and I said that I wished some of the mighty lords of the kingdom would have done as much for me.

Martin cried excitedly: “They will open the doors, Mistress.” He looked sad suddenly. “You will go away.” He brightened. “We shall come to see you.”

I took the keys and said: “May God bless you, my children. But I do not think these keys will open the right doors. So you still have me with you.”

They clapped their hands and just at that moment one of the guards came out.

“I must ask you, my lady,” he said, “to give me those keys.”

I explained that Susannah had found them in the gardens.

He took them from me. I guessed that one of the guards must have lost them and was feeling very anxious about them, and the fact that they had fallen into my hands gave him twinges of anxiety, for although the keys would have been no use to me, there was something symbolic about keys— as the children had thought.

There must have been great consternation among the guards. The lost keys had been found, but the children had brought them to me. Just suppose they had been the keys to my prison cell. They must have been filled with terror to contemplate the consequences if, through the carelessness of guards, I was to escape from the Tower.

The next day when I went down to the gardens the children were not there. I was very disappointed. Not only had I lost them but also the heartening messages from Robert Dudley.

Then a few days later I saw Martin. One of the gates had been locked and he was standing on the other side of it. He stretched out his arms and said: “Mistress, I am to bring you no more flowers.”