by Sue Reid
Elizabeth Tilney assures me that Queen Mary is merciful but how can she show me mercy?
Lady Throckmorton has just left me. She returned late from the christening and was aghast to see the canopy of state lying on the floor and all the Council gone. Piece by piece I am beginning to learn what happened. Under pretence of meeting the French ambassador, the councillors met instead at Baynard’s Castle. There they summoned the Lord Mayor, his aldermen and the ambassadors and told them they intended to proclaim Mary the lawful queen. They had been misguided in their support of me, they assured them, bullied into supporting the King’s new will, they had no choice in the matter. Their cowardly lies disgust me. By this they hope to keep their heads. Cheapside must be crowded with traitors today! Nearly all my ladies have left the Tower now – except my faithful nurse, and my dear friend Elizabeth Tilney, who both refuse to leave me. Poor Lady Throckmorton has been kept here too – as has my husband of course and his mother. I cannot think why.
19 July 1553, night
The Tower of London
It was nearly dark when the guards came for me. I was sitting in a chair, pretending to listen to Elizabeth, my prayer book tightly clasped in my hands. But I could not attend to a word she said. She got up to light the candles and it was then I heard them – booted feet echoing on the stone floors. The door swung open and I got up calmly and stood, facing them. So many burly men to guard one tiny girl. At their head the officer cleared his throat. “Jane Dudley, you are now our prisoner.” I had to leave the royal apartments, but am housed nearby. I wish it were further away. It is terrible to think that the Queen will soon be here, and yet I cannot reach her to plead for my life. Guildford has been taken to the Beauchamp Tower.
All the royal jewels and gifts have been taken away by the guards. They are no longer mine, they are the Queen’s. But to hear how disrespectfully they spoke to me and see how thoroughly they searched through my things humiliated me beyond anything I have ever known. Chests were opened, gowns removed, silver and gold goblets counted. “Take what you will!” I felt like shouting. “Take the baubles, the furs, the turkey bow and arrows. I give it all up gladly. I never sought to be queen.” But I felt sick when they opened the murrey velvet coffer where I keep my portraits – of Mother, Queen Katherine and my cousin Edward. But, to my relief, after a brief glance at them, the officer gruffly ordered them put back again.
I was full of dread when they marched me down the long passages in the White Tower. I shuddered to think where I might be taken. Some of the towers are very grim. I am tested because my shoulders are strong enough, I tell myself. Have I not been tested many times before? But here I am not uncomfortable. My nurse, Elizabeth and a woman called Mistress Jacob look after me, as well as a manservant called Mark. He is a good lad, and runs about willingly on errands for us. And I am allowed books and writing materials – and I have my journal. I thank God the guards did not find it when they came to search my apartments. I have a safe hiding place for it now under a loose flagstone.
25 July 1553
The Tower of London
I had just picked up my journal to write when the sounds of booing and hallooing made me put it down and hasten to the window. Prisoners are being brought in to the Tower daily, and we are growing used to hearing the hurled shouts and insults but this was something more. I ducked down hastily when I saw who these prisoners were – Northumberland and two of his sons, Ambrose and Henry. They were being pushed and shoved along. They were filthy and the boys looked as if they had been crying. Elizabeth says she has never seen so many men needed to guard so few. It was for the prisoners’ safety. The crowd were so angry. I found myself wishing I could stand alongside them and add my curses to theirs. The Duke has brought my family down. It is because of him that I am here. And I am told that when he knew all was lost he cried: “God save Queen Mary!” How could he!
As soon as it was quiet I picked up my journal again but had to thrust it behind me quickly when the door opened. My heart spins in terror every time it opens. But my visitor, Sir John Brydges, has brought me good news. I am to be moved to new lodgings – an apartment in the Gentleman Gaoler’s house. He says I will find it comfortable. He is a kindly man, the elderly Lieutenant of the Tower.
I have been thinking about my poor sister, Katherine. What have they told her? What must she think, knowing that her father-in-law has betrayed her own sister? Will they allow her to stay married or force them to separate? I grieve for her.
26 July 1553
The Tower of London
Today I moved into my new lodgings, in the Gentleman Gaoler’s house. Master Partridge, the gaoler, is a kindly man and I see nothing but sympathy for me in his eyes. I have heard no news of Father, but my manservant told me he saw Lord Robert Dudley and the Marquess of Northampton brought into the Tower. They must be the reason for the boos and shouts I heard earlier. Sometimes when I look out of the window, I wonder if I will see Guildford at his? Does he know where I am? Does he even care?
27 July 1553
The Tower of London
My nurse and ladies have been trying to comfort me. But I can hardly write for weeping. I try so hard to be brave, but this news is a terrible blow. Father has been brought into the Tower – a prisoner. If he tried to convince Mary of his innocence, he has failed. I had prayed that Northumberland would be left to shoulder the blame. But it seems it is not to be. Now it is in my mother’s hands to speak up for her family. She has always been close to the Queen, but will that be enough to save us now?
3 August 1553
The Tower of London
For the past few days the Tower has been a busy place. Laden carts trundle through the gate. Barrels of beer and baskets of vegetables are taken to the kitchens. The yeoman warders must have been given extra beer to make merry for they kept us all awake with their carousing last night. A glorious smell of roasting meat wafts past my window. Everyone but the prisoners is celebrating. Yesterday the Queen and her train processed through the gate into the city. Tonight she will sleep in the Tower like me. Yet we could not be further apart than we are now – she the Queen and I her prisoner. What must she think about that?
Master Partridge has just been to tell me to keep away from the window until the royal party has passed. He looked most embarrassed and would not meet my eye. It will not be long now before the Queen arrives. The shouts from the river grow steadily louder. How they cheer for her. They did not cheer like that for me. It seems so long ago, and yet it is only a few weeks since I too was brought into the Tower in state. The great guns thunder. The royal party must have reached the Tower gates. I can hear Mistress Partridge’s excited voice outside. A door slams shut. The Tower folk are going to watch the Queen’s Majesty arrive. It is an exciting day for them. I gave my ladies and Mark permission to watch. My ladies refused to leave me, but young Mark slipped out straight away.
Later
Mistress Partridge has been chattering to a woman outside. She has a loud voice so I learnt that the Queen rode a horse covered in cloth of gold and wore a gown of rich purple velvet, edged with gold. Mary always loved rich clothes and unlike me does not need to wear the Tudor colours of green and white to remind people of her Tudor blood. I can imagine her delight as the royal jewels are poured into her lap. Next to her rode the Princess Elizabeth. What must Elizabeth feel now her Catholic sister is queen? Elizabeth’s strong Protestant beliefs are as well known to her sister as they are to others – others who even now may be plotting to put her on the throne in Mary’s place.
I have learnt that the Queen has met some of the Tower prisoners, who are to be freed. They are all Catholics, of course – one, Edward Courtenay, has been held in the Tower since 1538. I wish I had not overheard that! What must it be like to have been a prisoner for so many years? Freedom will seem very strange to him.
Mistress Jacob is very angry. Mark has still not returned. He will feel the back of her hand when he does.
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8 August 1553
The Tower of London
I am to be tried for treason. I am told I will be found guilty, but I am to believe that I will be pardoned. Can that be true? Elizabeth reminds me that Mary is proving a merciful queen. “She has pardoned your father,” she says, “and many other prisoners.” I must be hopeful, for if Father is pardoned, should I not be? Is he not as guilty as me? Guiltier, even. Did not he and Mother force me to accept the crown?
13 August 1553
The Tower of London
I have been busy writing a letter – to the Queen, begging her forgiveness. It has taken me the best part of the day and many writings and rewritings and I am still not satisfied with it. Elizabeth has promised to deliver it to the gaoler and I pray that it reaches the Queen. I have no other way to plead my case. It was wrong of me to accept the crown, I write, but I did so unwillingly. I never sought it. I was bullied into it. I was deceived by the Duke and his son and ill treated by his mother. I can only pray that the Queen believes me.
No word has come of when I am to be tried. I have had no news of Guildford’s fate either. Will he be pardoned? Or will he be tried alongside me? Guildford is innocent of any crime. He was not even made king! And yet – how rashly he made clear that he would relish kingship. He must regret that now.
21 August 1553
The Tower of London
I was woken early this morning by the sound of banging and hammering and marching feet. On Tower Hill a scaffold has been erected. It is for Northumberland’s execution. Sir Thomas Palmer and Sir John Gates are to be executed with him. Mark says that a vast crowd has collected at Tower Hill and extra guards are being brought in to control it. I can well believe it. The people have no love for the Duke.
I have sent Mark out to see what he can learn. About an hour after the Duke was due to die I saw a small party leave the Beauchamp Tower. Among them I instantly recognized the Duke. The prisoners were surrounded by guards, but instead of turning for Tower Hill as I expected, they made their way across the courtyard to the Tower chapel. Then I had a mighty shock. As the Duke reached the chapel, he stopped, bowed his head and crossed himself – actually crossed himself! My incredulous exclamation brought Elizabeth to the window. “He must be going to hear Mass,” she said when I explained what I had seen. “He may hope it will save his life.”
“He may save his life, but he will lose his soul,” I retorted in disgust. “It is a poor exchange.”
Mark has returned. He wheedled out of a guard what I suspected – the Duke has reverted to the Catholic faith, confessing he did wrong to listen to the words of the reformers. So, there is to be no execution today. What a coup for Mary – the mighty Duke of Northumberland confessing freely the error of his ways. But how could he? Even I did not think the Duke would stoop as low as this.
22 August 1553
The Tower of London
A mighty shout reaches me from Tower Hill. Soon now the cart bearing Northumberland’s headless body will rattle over the cobblestones back into the Tower for burial. His head will doubtless shortly join others on London Bridge.
If Northumberland had hoped to save his life, he hoped in vain. And he had to say Mass this morning like a good Catholic before he was taken to his execution. I try to imagine his face when the Lieutenant of the Tower brought him the news he was to die on the morrow after all. My nurse says she will dance on his grave. As for me – I feel no pity for him. So dies a traitor.
28 August 1553
The Tower of London
I was reading my Bible when I heard a voice outside talking to the guards. As always I strained to hear who it was and what they were saying. But it was only Master Partridge. What a kind man he is! He had come, he said, to invite me to dine with him and his wife, and their friend, Master Lea, who, he explained, is an official at the Royal Mint. He seemed to think the honour was all theirs, but it is mine. Oh, what joy it will be to see new faces, and have someone fresh to talk to!
31 August 1553
The Tower of London
I have rarely seen a man so astonished as Master Lea when he saw me seated at table in the Partridges’ dining chamber. In confusion, he pulled off his cap. It was very clear that he knew who I was. Bidding him welcome, I insisted he put his cap back on – and then I lifted my goblet and toasted the Queen’s health, wishing her a long and happy reign.
I asked if the Mass was being said again in London.
“In places it is,” I was told.
“The Duke was happy to hear it,” I said, unable to keep the bitterness out of my voice.
“Doubtless he hoped for a pardon,” my host said.
“Pardon!” I exclaimed, laying down my knife. I felt myself shake with anger. “He – who led a force against the Queen, who brought my family low to satisfy his ambition. How could he expect a pardon? And what good would it have done him? Given him a few miserable years, before he burned in hell forever. No, rather die. I will never betray my faith, even to save my life.” I saw those around the table glance at each other and now I am back in my chamber, Elizabeth has been pleading with me to be careful.
“Mistress Jacob told me what passed at dinner,” she said. “My lady, what if they report your words to the Queen? I beg you, take more care what you say in front of others.” I said she did not know me very well if she thought I would lie, or hide how I feel. Elizabeth looked at me sadly, but I had said nothing wrong. I only spoke the truth.
10 October 1553
The Tower of London
Mistress Partridge has baked me a pie! She brought it to me herself. “It is not often,” she said, puffing as she put the pie down on the table, “that we have so noble a lady in our house.” She wiped her hands on her skirt and bobbed a curtsy. “There!” she said, looking down at the pie proudly. “I hope you will like it.” I felt tears fill my eyes and blinked them away. “I like it very much,” I told her. Her cheeks went bright pink. How kind she is.
I saw Guildford this afternoon! I was reading when I heard Elizabeth exclaim and I looked up hastily. “What is it?” I said. She looked awkward. “Tell me!” I insisted.
“It is Lord Guildford,” she said reluctantly. “He is outside.”
“What?” I cried. I ran to the window just in time to see Guildford turn the corner to the Queen’s Garden. His head was bowed and guards walked at his side. So, he is allowed to exercise while I am not. The same thought must have been in my nurse’s mind for I heard her grumble to Elizabeth.
“My sweeting grows pale for want of fresh air. It is not right that the Dudleys are allowed to walk outside when my child is not.” Guildford, I have learned, has been moved to more comfortable lodgings in the Bell Tower. It is where the most important prisoners are often held. They dine well too, food being sent them from the Lieutenant’s kitchens. But apart from the want of exercise, I have nothing to complain about. I am well treated and have all the time I want to read and study. It is my little prayer book I open day after day. I am sorely tested, and a yet greater test lies ahead but I trust I will not be found wanting.
10 November 1553
The Tower of London
My heart is heavy. All Edward’s reforms have been swept away by order of Parliament. Soon the Mass will be heard again in every church, the priests will declare that a piece of bread is Christ’s body and every service and every prayer will be said again in Latin. Most people will not be able to understand what the priests are saying. As for those who defy the Queen, I tremble to think of their fate. Already I fancy I can smell the fires of Smithfield, hear the crackle of flames as good and brave people die for their beliefs.
13 November 1553
The Tower of London
I am condemned of high treason. I refused to let my judges see how I felt as the dread words were pronounced – death by burning or beheading. My fate now lies in the Queen’s hands. Sir John assures me that I will be pardoned. I told hi
m that my mind was fixed now on heaven, but I cannot deny to myself my secret hope that I will live. My ladies have not stopped weeping since they learnt my sentence, which is of no comfort to me.
I was full of dread when I heard that we were not to be taken to the Guildhall by river but were to walk to our trial through the streets of the city, like common prisoners. I know how hostile the crowds are to traitors. And I, Jane, must surely be a traitor in their eyes. For I usurped the crown! My courage nearly left me when I saw how many had come to watch us pass. Halberdiers lined the streets, pikes in their hands. The people who pressed behind them looked at me curiously. A few weeks ago, no one knew who I was. Now everyone knows who I am. That is she, their eyes say. The girl who usurped the throne.
“How tiny she is,” I heard someone say. I did not wish to be queen, I longed to shout. I never wanted to rule. Wicked men put me there. But instead I lowered my head penitently, and kept my eyes fixed on my prayer book until I stumbled on a loose stone and had to look up. But I heard no one spit at me, or wish me dead.
