The Manner of Amy's Death (9 page)

      When we arrive at our
destination there are looks of astonishment and disapproval.   Amy’s cousin is much older than we are and scowls at us in a most unwelcoming manner.  “Word gets around!  She wasn’t like this when I had the most powerful man in England for a father-in-law,” remarks Amy grimly as we help James take the bags from the mule.  A manservant comes out of the house and he and James lead the horses and mules to the mews round the corner.  He’ll sleep in the straw in the hayloft over the stable and the manservant takes him a bowl of pottage to eat.

      The wooden and clay hous
e is tiny compared to what we’ve been used to.  Mrs Picto goes to join the two servants in the kitchen and, as the rest of the family have had their supper, Amy and I sit at the table to a bowl of mutton in a broth and some bread on a wooden platter.  The bread is the coarse kind mixed with rye rather than the fine, sweet manchet bread we are used to and we are served ale instead of wine.  Amy does not ask for sugar!

      We eat everything we’
re given and are grateful.  We have no idea when the next meal will be served and I have a strong suspicion that we’ve just eaten the finest in the house despite the homeliness of the fare and the icy welcome we received.  The parents sit at the table and watch us eat, stony-faced, while their son and daughter, a little younger than we are, stand and watch, overawed by our fine clothes.

      After the meal Amy thanks them kindly and asks if we may stay the night.  Humility does not come naturally to her but now she must be humble.  Unsmil
ingly the cousins agree and we’re shown upstairs to a chamber that’s clearly just been vacated by their daughter.  The bed appears to have been slept in many times but we’re grateful anyway. 

      “It’s better tha
n the Tower,” says Amy when we’re alone.

   
  I’m wondering what will happen to Jane and Guildford now.  Northumberland is as good as dead, that’s a certainty, and I fear for all his sons though I cannot voice my fears to Amy whose face is pale and pinched with worry for Robert.  As for the two of us - we are now homeless.

Retribution

The following morning I’m lying awake
, and wondering whether Amy is too, when a voice says, “We’ll go to William Hyde’s house at Throcking.  He’s a loyal friend of Robert.  He’ll help us.”

      We sit with Amy’s cousins and eat our breakfast in silence while James and the servant saddle the horses and mules.
  We won’t be travelling at any pace faster than a walk so we eat our fill and forget the niceties of pretending we’re not hungry.  The next meal may be this evening.

      After the usual courtesies we mount our horses and l
eave, riding for most of the morning up the road to the north, skirting the city and leaving it far behind.  By early afternoon it’s clear that Mrs Picto can travel no further.

      “Are you unwell?” Amy asks her and the
poor woman tells us that she’s spent the previous night sleeping in a chair.

      “What?  They didn’
t find you a bed?” says Amy, incredulous and furious at the same time.

      At the next inn we make a stop and James comes out with the good news that we can have
chambers for the night. 

      Good news indeed!  A more fl
ea ridden place I’ve yet to find!  In the morning we’re all glad to be leaving it far behind.  A good dinner at a hostelry at midday puts us in a better mood but I can see Amy counting the coins in her purse when she thinks no one’s looking.  I look down at my mother’s brooch pinned at the top of my bodice and prepare myself to say goodbye to it.

  
   That night we reach Ware, find good lodgings and are much cheered.  Unfortunately Amy is ill the next day and has to stay in her chamber.  We spend another night there but by midday she’s well enough to travel again.  Throcking is just to the west of Bury St Edmunds and we want to be at Hyde’s house by evening.

     
But as we prepare to set off there’s a huge commotion outside.  A column of soldiers and horsemen are coming down the road from Cambridge to the north and we rush to the roadside to see them pass.  At the head of the procession is the Earl of Arundel and who should be behind him but Northumberland, clearly discernable in his red cloak.  Behind the Duke, mounted on their horses, are John, Ambrose and Henry, Amy’s brothers-in-law.  Young Henry is only sixteen; he looks terrified and is weeping.  They are all surrounded by armed foot soldiers.

      The people of the village jeer at Northumberland as he passes by and there are shouts of “Traitor!”
and “Death to the enemies of Queen Mary!”  Our manner of dress marks us out from the crowd and I rather think that Ambrose sees us as they ride past for he gives a faint smile.  But he doesn’t acknowledge us, knowing the danger that may place us in.  Amy scans the procession for Robert but he’s not with them.

      Subdued and silent we mount our horses and head
north in the opposite direction.  By late afternoon we’re in Throcking. 

     
The reception at William Hyde’s house is so different from the one we had in London at Amy’s cousins.

      “My dear Amy, you look so pale and ill.  You are welcome here.  Come inside, come inside.”  Amy bursts into tears and sobs with relief and self pity.

Once inside and fortified by a glass of spiced wine, she begs for news of Robert but William and his wife are unable to help.  We then exchange our news from London with William’s from Cambridge. 

     
It seems that the Duke left Bury St Edmunds when he received news of the Council’s treachery.  His recruits had begun to desert him and he fled to Cambridge where he thought he would receive a sympathetic reception, pleading that he had only been carrying out Edward’s wishes.  He had thrown his hat in the air, feigning joy at the proclamation that Mary was Queen.  But his dissembling didn’t impress anyone and he was detained by the city magistrates.  Then Arundel arrived and arrested him with his sons but Robert was not with the other brothers.  This story tallies with what we saw at the roadside outside the inn at Ware.

      The next day William Hyde sends one of his men to
London to find out the latest news.  We’ll have to wait several days now and spend the time with Mrs Picto attending to what’s left of our possessions.  Mrs Hyde has given us two of her old gowns and some material out of which we hope to fashion new gowns and kirtles.  Mrs Picto is an expert needlewoman and, though the material is plain and unfashionable, at least we will have a change of dress.  Our best clothes can be put away for special occasions.

      On 6
th
August William’s man returns.  The news is both good and bad.  Elizabeth, having heard the proclamations of Mary’s victory, had ridden from Hatfield where she’d been lying low.  Together with a great retinue of followers she went out to greet Mary as she rode in triumph into London.  The two sisters had put on an unrivalled show of splendour and unity as they entered the city to the cheers of the crowds.

      “Trust
Elizabeth to come out of the woodwork and emerge on the winning side,” says Amy sarcastically.

      More important
ly as far as Amy is concerned is the news that Robert is alive, having been taken prisoner in King’s Lynn and then to Framlingham Castle in Suffolk.  He’s now with his father and brothers in the Tower.  William Hyde’s man has discovered that Mary does not wish to begin her reign with violence and recrimination.  She will execute only the ring leaders after they have been tried for treason and will pardon where she can.

      As far as Northumberland’s sons are concerned, this sends a mixed message.  Certainly the Duke is doomed but how many others?  We will have to wait and see.

      “What of the Sidneys?  Have you heard anything?” asks Amy.

      But the man has heard nothing.  Only that
Queen Mary has freed the Duke of Suffolk, Jane’s father, at the Duchess’ request.  When we reflect how Jane once insulted Lady Mary with great arrogance over Mary’s religious beliefs we’re amazed at this.  We can only assume that Suffolk has pleaded coercion by Northumberland.  It’s obvious who will pay the price.

      So we have no choice other than to sit, sew and wait for news.  William Hyde and his wife are great friends of Robert and are most kind; Amy and I are very comfortab
le at Throcking.  She writes to her parents in Norfolk to tell them of our situation and well being and her father replies affectionately.

      By
late August there has been a flurry of letters and the news from London is grim.  Amy’s father-in-law, together with John Gates and Thomas Palmer, who rode out with the Duke to fight Mary’s forces, have all been executed for treason. 

     
Northumberland had tried to plead for his life and even gave up his evangelical religion in an attempt to show his contrition.  He worshipped in the Catholic fashion by attending mass and made a public declaration stating that he had been wrong in his beliefs.  He also apologised for his role in the Duke of Somerset’s downfall and begged forgiveness of Somerset’s sons.  Even to the end he’d hoped he would be reprieved especially when his execution was postponed for a day. 

     
But Mary had delayed merely to emphasise the huge moral victory she had achieved; the message was that evangelicals were not so sure of their faith that they were prepared to die for it!  The following day Northumberland, Gates and Palmer said mass in the chapel in the Tower and then were taken to Tower Hill to be executed.  It was reported to us that Northumberland had then hinted darkly at another person who had been the leader of the plot to put Jane on the throne but the Duke refused to name him.  Had he meant Gates, we wonder, or perhaps Suffolk himself?  One thing is certain.  We will never know; only that these three men took the punishment for many guilty people on the Privy Council.

      A huge crowd numbering thousands had gathered for the executions apparently and
the unpopular Northumberland had gone to the block first to the delight of them all.  He had been beheaded with one stroke of the axe but Gates had not been so fortunate; it took three strokes to remove his head.  By the time it was Palmer’s turn, the elderly man had skipped up the steps of the scaffold, confessed to his part in Somerset’s downfall and had stated, almost joyfully, his belief in the forgiveness of God and his willingness to die.  He showed no fear despite the gory sight of the blood splattered executioner and the scaffold, already soaked with the blood of Northumberland and Gates, and his end was mercifully quick.  Once the three executions had been carried out, the crowd had dispersed; the entertainment was over.

     
William Hyde reads the letter quietly and by the time he reaches the end, we are all too shocked to say a word.  We sit and reflect, in our thoughts and our own private prayers, our concerns for the unfortunate young men who still await their fates.  In truth Northumberland had been fortunate.  A traitor’s death would have been far worse.

      Eventually, after a long silence, William speaks.  We are not to be downhearted
for Robert, he says; the young man has courage and it’s a good sign that Mary has not yet executed other rebels.  She seems to be showing compassion and leniency.  And the Duke had pleaded for mercy for his sons before he died, Amy says hopefully.  Also, she adds, John, the eldest brother, who’s been convicted of treason along with his father, has been spared execution – at least, so far. 

      We all agree. 
Queen Mary has achieved a major coup for her Catholic faith by persuading Northumberland to change his beliefs, giving him false hope that he would be pardoned.  It has demonstrated very well how weak we evangelicals are in our faith.  Perhaps she will be content with that. 

     
Amy and I retire to the chapel to pray for Robert and his brothers.  There’s no need to pray for the souls of those who have died; unlike the Catholics, we believe that simply dying in faith is sufficient to send us to heaven.  We remember Jane in our prayers for, it is said that, while she has comfortable lodgings in the Tower, the guards now make fun of her.  Poor, proud Jane, how she will feel the insults!  We also remember Katherine, her sister.

       Jane’s sister,
Katherine, is only thirteen and was married at the same time as Jane at the magnificent triple wedding.  To think that was just three months ago at Durham Place and how quickly everything has changed!  Katherine, so unlike her sister, lively, full of fun and incredibly pretty, and her equally young husband were said to be very fond of each other but, last week in a letter from Mary Sidney, we discovered that they too have been touched by this tragedy.      

     
Katherine’s father-in-law, the treacherous Pembroke who betrayed her whole family, has now lost no time arranging for a divorce for his son.  The young couple are said to be heartbroken.  Katherine is back with her parents, the recently pardoned Duke and Duchess of Suffolk.

      “We’ll lose all ou
r property and titles,” says Amy, “Since father-in-law was a convicted traitor.”

      “Well Robert hasn’t been attainted yet,” I say, “So I don’t think we can jump to conclusions.  Surely it’s only the Duchess
of Northumberland who will lose the houses that her husband owned.”