by Alison Weir
“I’d like to talk to you, Madam,” he said.
“Sit down,” she invited, closing the casket.
Franz hesitated for a moment. “As your close kinsman, my lady, I have been wondering if you have made a will.”
“A will?”
“It is wise to be provident. You would want your possessions to go to the heir of your choice, surely. But if you die intestate, that might not happen.”
“Franz, I’m thirty-six, and in good health!”
“It’s never too soon. None of us knows when God will summon us.”
This was a gloomy conversation to be having on a lovely summer day.
“We are cousins, my lady,” Franz persisted. “If you will make me your heir, I will do all I can to protect your interests, for they will be my own.”
Ah, Anna thought, now it becomes clear why you are so eager to delve into my finances.
Aloud, she said, “Franz, I am very fond of you, but there will be no advantage to you in being my heir, for I am poor. These great houses will revert to the Crown on my death, when my income will cease. All I have are my jewels and personal possessions.”
“It is not gain I look for,” he said. “More a recognition of our kinship and my dozen years of service. As your acknowledged heir, I would enjoy more authority in your household, and could manage things better.”
There was the nub of the matter. “You mean you want to take over the accounts?”
“That, and other responsibilities. I too am finding things hard financially. I was hoping that, of your goodness, you might release to me some of your personal effects, so I can raise some money.”
You had to admire his effrontery!
“Franz,” she said gently, “if I die intestate, the heir to my poor fortune is my brother, and then my sister. They are my closest relatives, so it is only right that they should benefit. And, when the time comes, I shall want to reward those who have done me good service. Let’s leave the matter there.”
A sulky look clouded Franz’s handsome face.
“Was there anything else?” she asked, with more asperity.
“No, my lady,” he muttered, and walked off.
Within moments, Jasper appeared. “I couldn’t believe what I was hearing just then,” he told her.
“You were eavesdropping?” Anna asked.
“Not intentionally. I was coming to tell your Highness that those overdue rents from Norfolk have come in, when I heard Franz speaking to you. Naturally, I waited until he had finished. Frankly, Madam, his presumption is appalling!”
Anna thought so too, but did not want to inflame the enmity between the two men. “About those rents, Jasper,” she said. “Will they make us solvent?”
* * *
—
When they were alone that night, she asked Otho what he thought about Franz’s astonishing request.
“He’s a young hothead,” he said. “I’m glad you put him in his place.”
“But I did it kindly,” Anna said, running her fingers through the golden hairs on his chest, and marveling that, at thirty-eight, he was still lean, strong, and muscular.
“As a younger son, he has no inheritance. I suppose you can’t blame him for trying to better himself. But it was wrong-headed. I don’t know what’s got into him lately.”
“I think he thought he had a comfortable future assured, and resents having to make economies.”
Otho stroked her hand. “I don’t like the way he carps at Jasper. The man is doing his best to make ends meet.”
“Jasper was very angry today.”
“He showed me the accounts. He was upset that Franz said they were in a mess. They looked pretty orderly to me.”
Anna’s lips sought his. “I hate all this bad feeling. It’s casting a cloud over everyone.”
“I will speak to them both,” Otho promised, and gathered her into his arms.
* * *
—
Otho’s tactful advice fell on deaf ears. Jasper would not speak to Franz; and Franz did not let an opportunity pass to criticize Jasper. People were taking sides.
Anna was at her wits’ end when, out of the blue, a letter arrived from Dr. Olisleger, revealing that Jasper had written, urging him to warn Duke Wilhelm that Franz was trying to persuade Anna to recognize him as her heir and advance him some of her property. On the Duke’s orders, Dr. Olisleger was recalling Franz to Kleve to explain himself, and asked Anna to ensure he departed without delay.
She was deeply relieved to see an outraged Franz go, and asked Otho and Sir John personally to oversee his departure and make sure he did not seek out Jasper and pick a fight. The atmosphere in the household lightened, and she began to hope that Wilhelm would not allow Franz to return.
Her spirits rose further in July, when the Council informed her that the Emperor had finally freed the Elector of Saxony from captivity. She had more than once petitioned King Edward to urge his release, and Sybilla had written that she herself had never ceased pressing for it. To Anna’s grateful surprise, the Privy Council had asked the English ambassador to beg the Emperor to show clemency. She took the greatest of pleasure in imagining Sybilla’s joy as she was reunited with her beloved husband.
In August, encouraged by the Council’s support in this matter, Anna wrote to the King explaining most apologetically that her expenses now exceeded her income by nearly a thousand pounds a year, and begging him, of his goodness, for financial aid.
She was crestfallen to receive only a short reply. His Highness was on progress and resolved not to be troubled with payments until his return; her request could not be satisfied until his coming to London.
Chapter 27
1553–1554
The King was dead.
There had been rumors that he was ill, but Sir John said he had appeared at a window at Greenwich Palace to reassure the crowds below that he was well, so the news came as a shock. To die at fifteen—it was desperately tragic. Anna could not get that poor, isolated, deified boy out of her mind.
And now—what would happen?
“The next heir is the Lady Mary,” Sir John said, as they sat subdued over supper at Bletchingley that evening.
“That will mean we all turn Catholic again,” Mr. Carew said.
“The first one she’ll overthrow will be Northumberland,” Sir John predicted. “She has no cause to love him; he was vigorously opposed to her having her Mass, and has done much to strengthen the Protestant faith in England.”
“I can’t see him giving up his power without a struggle,” Otho said.
His words were prescient. Three days later, they learned, to their astonishment, that the Lady Jane Grey had been proclaimed queen in London. Anna struggled to place her.
“Who is she?”
“King Henry’s great-niece, the granddaughter of the French Queen,” Mr. Carew supplied. “She is but a girl.”
“She was married to Northumberland’s son only a few weeks ago,” Sir John related. “I think the Duke planned this all along. The word is that King Edward changed the succession on his deathbed, disinheriting his sisters.”
“I wonder what the Lady Mary will do,” Anna pondered, deeply worried for both Mary and Elizabeth.
“What can she do?” Mr. Carew shrugged. “She is but a woman, with no resources at her command.”
“But she has right on her side,” Sir John insisted. “As a lawyer, I can tell you with certainty that a deathbed wish, even one made in writing, cannot overturn an Act of Parliament. Thus the Lady Mary is our rightful Queen.”
No sooner had he spoken than they heard the front door bang open and a commotion in the hall. Sir Thomas Cawarden appeared, booted and wearing his riding clothes. “My lady.” He bowed to Anna, nodded at the rest, then eyed the remains of the joint of beef on the table.
Anna wondered where he ha
d been—and why he kept coming to Bletchingley when she was here. Yet, over the years, she had grown more used to his ways. At least he had never propositioned her again. “Do join us, Sir Thomas,” she said, obliged by common courtesy to invite him.
“There is a letter waiting for you in the hall,” Mr. Carew told him. Sir Thomas fetched it, and came back scanning the page.
“It’s from the Council,” he said, “to all the deputy lieutenants, sheriffs, and justices of Surrey.” He did not reveal any more. He had not been at court, then, or the Council would not have had to write to him here. Had he been out and about, drumming up support for Queen Jane?
Conversation turned again to the day’s momentous tidings, but Sir Thomas did not appear interested in joining in. Anna had expected him to be elated at the prospect of England having another Protestant monarch, yet he seemed almost indifferent.
* * *
—
A week passed, with no more news. Then Sir Thomas received another letter, one bearing the royal seal. Anna saw him hurrying to the stables as she was picking flowers for the parlor.
“I have to go to London,” he called back over his shoulder. “They need tents for the garrison at the Tower, where the Queen is.”
He had been gone two days when a carter came by the gate and told the porter that the Lady Mary had been proclaimed queen and Lady Jane had been overthrown. The porter raced to the house, dragging the man with him.
“I heard it proclaimed in the marketplace at Reigate, lady,” the carter told Anna, clutching his hat, as everyone gathered around her in the hall. “The herald told us that Queen Mary had raised her standard in Norfolk, and everyone in those parts rallied to her, and the rest of the kingdom did likewise. The traitor Northumberland is taken.”
“And what of the Lady Jane?” Anna asked, thrilled to hear of Mary’s triumph.
“She’s in the Tower.”
Anna sent the carter to the kitchens for some refreshment, and turned to her household. “We must all pray for Queen Mary,” she said. “God grant her long to reign!” It seemed strange to have a queen governing over them, but she was confident that Mary would prove equal to the task. Clearly, she had come to the throne on a vast tide of popular approval.
She went to her closet to write a letter of congratulation to the new Queen. Next door, she could hear Mother Lowe declaring how pleased she was that they could all practice their religion openly again now. Anna sat quietly for a space, savoring the moment—until she remembered Sir Thomas Cawarden. He would have been riding into danger. Had he been caught delivering the tents to the Tower, or had he heard the news before he got to Blackfriars, and escaped capture? Would that save him from the anger of Queen Mary, who would surely find out about his close association with Northumberland?
To her horror, Anna realized that her own connection with Sir Thomas might lead to suspicions that she too had supported the usurper Jane. Yet surely Mary would not believe that of her: Mary, who was her friend.
* * *
—
It had been an anxious few weeks—until the summons arrived at Hever bidding Anna come to London to take part in the Queen’s coronation.
“This is such a relief—and most gratifying!” she told Otho, showing him the letter. “I am deeply touched that her Majesty regards me as worthy of this honor. She is aware, of course, that I share her faith; she must know that I too rejoice that true religion can once again be practiced in England.”
“So you think she really will return the realm to obedience to the Pope?”
“I have no doubt of it. Oh, Otho, things are going to be much better from now on!”
Anna had already ordered that Mass be celebrated openly in her household, and asked all her people to attend. As the weeks passed, news of the great changes that were afoot reached Bletchingly. It was said that God was taking pity on His people and His Church in England, through the instrument of a virgin called Mary. Anna wondered if there would be protests from the Queen’s Protestant subjects, but so far there had been no demonstrations against the restoration of the old faith. Doubtless it was because the Queen had published an edict promising not to compel her subjects to follow the Catholic religion.
Anna could imagine Mary’s joy in having the freedom to worship as she wished. Sir John Guildford had told her that Mass was now celebrated six or seven times a day at court.
“And what of my Lady Elizabeth?” she had asked. “She is hot for the Protestant faith.”
“She has not been at court yet, but I’m sure she will do as the Queen pleases. She will not risk being disinherited again.”
* * *
—
The barge was crowded with ladies, all looking like rare birds in their fine attire and chattering excitedly about the coronation and the celebrations to come. Feeling like a queen again in her purple velvet gown, Anna sat in the cabin, waving to the crowds lining the riverbanks. They would know who she was when they saw the pennant bearing her coat of arms fluttering in the breeze. Ahead of her she could see the royal barge leading the great procession of boats making their stately way to the Tower of London.
As the Queen’s barge turned in toward the Court Gate, the guns on the wharf sounded a mighty salute. Anna’s mind turned to the poor souls she had known who had been imprisoned, or met their end, here—Cromwell, Katheryn Howard, the Seymour brothers, and now Lady Jane Grey, who was still immured somewhere behind the stout walls of the fortress. As Anna alighted from the barge and was escorted along the outer ward to her lodgings in the royal palace, she wondered how Jane felt, hearing all the commotion and the cheers greeting the Queen’s arrival. But she would not think of that now. Today was a day for rejoicing, and here was the Lady Elizabeth coming to embrace her.
* * *
—
Two days later, early on a mild late-September morning, Anna climbed into the chariot she was to share with Elizabeth. It was a great privilege, especially as they were to ride immediately behind the Queen’s open litter. Elizabeth was already seated, facing the horses and wearing a crimson velvet gown identical to Anna’s. Lifting her heavy skirts, Anna sat down opposite. The litter was upholstered in the same crimson velvet, with a canopy of white cloth of silver to protect them from inclement weather.
“Are you looking forward to it, my Lady Anna?” Elizabeth asked, keenly taking in all that was going on around them in the inner ward of the Tower.
“It is most exciting, and a great honor to be sharing it with your Grace.” Anna smiled.
Not by one word or expression had Elizabeth given any hint that she was unhappy about her sister’s religious policy. Yet she had been noticeably absent when Anna attended Mass in the Chapel of St. John, high in the keep. Anna had watched the Queen, kneeling devoutly, her face rapt, then seen her suddenly glance sideways and look pained at the sight of Elizabeth’s empty chair. Mary might have said she would not compel her subjects to follow her religion, but Elizabeth was her heir. You would have thought she would make some compromise with her conscience to please the Queen.
The great ladies of the court were disposing themselves in the chariot behind them, and the many gentlewomen who were to ride after them were mounting horses trapped in red velvet, which matched their gowns. At last, the great procession moved slowly forward, out of the Tower and into the City of London, which the Queen entered in state, to be welcomed by the Lord Mayor and the leading citizens. Anna could see the small crown on Mary’s head bobbing up and down as she nodded her head in acknowledgment of the cheering crowds and the pageants put on for her delight along the route. She gazed in wonder at streets hung with tapestry, triumphal arches, colorful pageants, and happy, waving people. Her ears were assailed by the roar of the crowds, trumpets sounding fanfares, and the heavenly choirs of children. And so they came to Westminster.
The next day, Anna stood in the cool of Westminster Abbey w
atching Bishop Gardiner place the crown on Mary’s head. She wondered what had become of that radical Protestant, Archbishop Cranmer, who should have been officiating, but did not like to ask.
Afterward, in the glowing light of a thousand candles, she and Elizabeth were seated together at the end of the Queen’s table at the coronation banquet in Westminster Hall. It was wonderful to have the Queen smiling down the table at her and to enjoy such gracious favor. It meant she could look forward with confidence to a happy, assured future.
* * *
—
The celebrations over, Anna returned to Bletchingley, eager to tell Sir Thomas Cawarden all about the coronation—to which he had not been invited—and to make it plain to him which one of them was riding high now. But he was not at home, which left her feeling a little deflated. Always, he seemed to have some mysterious business in hand. Again she thought he had been lucky to escape censure after Queen Mary’s accession.
She hoped Mary’s favor would extend to her finances. The previous year, she had exchanged her manor house at Bisham for Westhorpe in Suffolk, a beautiful palace of which she had high hopes. But it was proving costly to maintain and her debt was again growing.
She was surprised and glad to see Dr. Cruser, come from her brother.
“He has sent me, Madam, to ensure that your settlement is confirmed by the new Queen, to whom I have already paid my respects. I took with me letters from the Duke and Duchess, congratulating her Majesty on her accession, and expressing the hope that the friendship between England and Kleve will be warmly maintained.”
“I do hope so,” Anna said, leading him into the large parlor she used in the mornings, and bidding him take the chair opposite hers on the other side of the hearth. She poured him some wine, and sat down.
“I am confident the Queen will ensure that I will not be left in want,” she said. “Already, I have received several marks of her favor.” She told him about the coronation and the prominent part she had played.
