The Queen's Favourite

by Laura Dowers

  The man sitting on the stool by the fireplace turned his back to him. ‘What do you care? Isn’t it enough you have imprisoned me? Must you come to gloat?’

  John sighed and rubbed his forehead. ‘Edward –’

  ‘You call me Lord Protector,’ Seymour hissed.

  ‘Your Protectorship has been rescinded.’

  ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘No, I couldn’t. Not by myself. But the council, acting as one, have ruled. That is how it should be.’

  ‘Does the king know I am here?’

  ‘He knows you are in custody, yes.’

  ‘Ah, so he doesn’t know I’m here. What other lies are you telling him, John?’

  ‘No lies, Edward. The boy is not a fool, he cannot be ignorant of what you’ve been doing. You drag him off to Windsor Castle –’

  ‘For his safety.’

  ‘For your own. I showed him your letter, Edward. You remember? The one where you promised to kill him if you were in danger.’

  Seymour seemed to shrink into himself, pulling the blanket tighter about his shoulders. ‘That was written rashly. I wasn’t thinking properly. I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘That’s a feeble defence. You didn’t mean it? It’s treason to even think of the king’s death, let alone threaten to kill him yourself. Do you really think a ‘sorry’ will excuse you?’

  Seymour didn’t answer. John wandered around the small room, glancing idly at the graffiti cut into the stone walls by previous prisoners.

  ‘Where’s my wife?’ Seymour asked quietly.

  ‘At Somerset House.’

  ‘Under guard?’

  ‘We didn’t think that was necessary.’

  ‘So, what are you going to do with me? Put my head on the block like you did with my brother?’

  ‘You signed his death warrant,’ John reminded him.

  Seymour nodded, his chin sinking deeper upon his chest. ‘And I shall be damned for that. I have been damned for it.’

  ‘This has all been of your own making.’

  ‘And a little of yours, confess it, John.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have treated me so badly, Edward. You made enemies when you didn’t need to.’

  Seymour suddenly jumped up from the stool and hurtled towards John, thrusting his face at him. John smelt his sour breath and noted the heavy, bloodshot eyes. ‘You tell the king I’m here,’ Seymour screamed, speckling John’s face with spittle. ‘I’m his uncle. You can’t do this to me.’

  John stepped back. The fury in Seymour’s eyes was unsettling. He banged on the door to be let out and a guard swung it open. He stepped outside, watching whilst it was locked and barred. Seymour continued to scream his protests as John walked away.

  32

  Whitehall Palace, London, November 1549

  Robert ran up to his father in the corridor. ‘I’m sorry, Father, I couldn’t think of a way to stop her.’

  ‘Stop who?’ John demanded, not stopping. He hurried on through to the Presence Chamber and immediately had an answer.

  Edward Seymour’s wife, Anne, was on her knees before the king. John stopped dead. He glared at Robert who had hurried to catch up with him. ‘How did she get in here?’

  Robert shook his head in answer, mumbling another apology.

  Just then, the king caught sight of John. ‘Warwick, where is my uncle?’

  John stepped up to the dais. ‘Under arrest in the Tower, Your Majesty.’

  The boy’s small pointed face hardened. ‘I was told he was ill. I thought he was being held at Somerset House.’

  ‘He is ill, Your Majesty,’ Anne said, her hands shaking, ‘because of the threats to his life. The council will kill him if you do not give him your pardon.’

  ‘Godfather,’ the king turned to Archbishop Cranmer who was shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, ‘is this true?’

  ‘We feared for your life if he were to remain at liberty, Your Majesty.’

  ‘But my uncle has never done me any harm,’ Edward persisted.

  ‘The lords of the council had good reason to suspect his intentions –’

  ‘No, I will not have it,’ the boy stamped his foot. ‘I want to see my uncle.’

  John silenced a further protestation from Cranmer with a hard, brief stare. ‘Of course, Your Majesty, if you wish it. We shall have him brought here so you may see him.’

  ‘At once, my lord,’ the king said, stepping down from the dais. John gestured for Robert to follow after the boy.

  John turned to Anne Seymour and held out his hand. She looked at it scornfully, but then slid hers into it and struggled to her feet. ‘I thank you,’ she said, and John saw how much it cost her to say those words.

  ‘I serve the king, my lady.’

  ‘As does -,’ she sniffed, ‘as did my husband.’

  ‘Indeed. Good day, Lady Anne.’

  ‘Why did you agree for the king to see him?’ Cranmer hissed in John’s ear when she had gone.

  John turned to him. ‘Would you go against the king’s wishes?’

  ‘Not willingly, but the Protector was a threat and had to be removed. I would have thought you were the last person who would want the king and his uncle reconciled.’

  ‘I didn’t go through all this for personal gain, Cranmer,’ John said heatedly. ‘If I had, then I have failed, for Wriothesley has become closer to the king than I.’

  ‘Yes,’ Cranmer nodded, his face creasing into even more lines, ‘I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Do you know Wriothesley’s been corresponding with the Lady Mary?’

  John did know, thanks to his spies, but he was ever one to keep information to himself. ‘What has he been saying to her?’

  ‘That he hopes and believes that soon she will be allowed to hear Mass again. And he’s told the Spanish Ambassador that the Pope will soon be restored as the head of the Church in England.’

  ‘I would be very sorry if that were true.’

  ‘And what of me?’ Cranmer said, clutching his cross. ‘If England returns to Rome, all my work will be undone. And my life, very like, forfeit.’

  ‘Cranmer, you must stay calm,’ John said. ‘Let’s just see what happens when the king meets his uncle.’

  Cranmer walked away, muttering his unhappiness. John moved to a window seat to consider the changing situation. If the king would not believe his uncle to be guilty of treason, then it would be wise to appear to be a friend to Seymour. It would take a bit of deft manoeuvring on his part and Wriothesley was going to be a problem, John knew, but then when wasn’t Wriothesley a problem? What John needed to do now was acquire friends. Alright, he conceded with a wry smile to himself, perhaps friends was the wrong word. Allies then, he needed allies. He began making a mental list of his fellow councillors, those who were likely to side with Wriothesley and those with him, and was pleased to find that the balance tipped in his favour.

  33

  Ely Place, London, November 1549

  Robert knocked and waited, his ear pressed against the door. He heard the murmurings of his father’s voice and then the shouted ‘Come in.’

  ‘Yes, Rob, what is it?’ John asked as Robert entered the room. William Paulet stood at his side.

  ‘Could I have a word with you, Father?’

  ‘Of course. William, would you mind leaving us for a few minutes.’ It was a command, not a request and Paulet demonstrated his irritation at having to make way for a boy with a very audible sigh.

  ‘Well?’ John asked when he had left.

  ‘I’ve just been speaking with the king, Father,’ Robert began. ‘The meeting with his uncle this morning has unsettled him a little, I think.’

  ‘I don’t see why it should,’ John said with a frown. ‘The boy hardly said a word to him.’

  ‘He said he couldn’t think of anything to say. He’s rather concerned at how his uncle is being treated at the Tower. He says he looked very much changed.’

  ‘Well, he’s thinner certainly. Worry will
do that to a man. But he’s not been ill-treated, far from it.’

  ‘I assured him he wasn’t, Father, that you wouldn’t allow that to happen. But he’s no fool. Young he may be, but the king does understand what has happened.’

  ‘Is he angry at me?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so. He admits that his uncle has behaved foolishly. He even said it would do him good to be shown his place. You know how close the Protector kept him –’

  ‘Seymour threatened to take his life,’ John cut in. ‘Does he know that?’

  ‘He doesn’t believe his uncle would ever harm him.’

  John sighed and rubbed his chin. ‘Well, what does he want done with him?’

  ‘I think he wants him to be set free.’

  ‘But,’ John floundered with his hands in the air, ‘a process has begun. I don’t believe this. Does he want him back as Protector?’

  Robert shook his head. ‘He hasn’t said so, no. He understands that charges of treason have to be answered, but he doesn’t want his uncle to be punished any more than he already has been.’

  ‘He said that?’

  ‘He implied it.’

  ‘Well, then –’

  ‘He sought me out, Father. He wanted to speak with me so I would speak to you.’

  John nodded grimly. ‘He certainly isn’t a fool, is he?’

  ‘No, Father.’

  ‘Well, Wriothesley isn’t going to like it. But still.... I’ve had your mother become friendly with Seymour’s wife, much to her displeasure because she thinks her an odious woman, just in case. So that should serve me well, at least.’

  ‘Can I tell the king anything?’

  ‘You can give him my assurances that Edward Seymour is being treated fairly and I will do my utmost to have him back on the council. But not as its head, Rob,’ John pointed a finger at him. ‘Make it clear to the king that his uncle no longer works alone. The Council of Regency, as his father decreed, will act in the king’s name.’

  Robert departed and Paulet came back in. ‘What was that all about?’ he asked.

  John put his hand on his shoulder. ‘Oh, William. It seems we’re going to have to find a way to work with Seymour again.’

  34

  Whitehall Palace, London, November 1549

  The door burst open and Wriothesley strode in. ‘What the devil are you playing at, Dudley?’

  John took a sip of wine before answering. ‘Playing, Thomas?’

  ‘I’ve just heard, from William Paulet mind, not from you, that we’re letting Seymour go free.’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘Would you care to explain why?’

  ‘The king wishes it.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘I cannot gainsay the king, Thomas. He is prepared to show mercy and we can do nothing but obey.’

  ‘Oh, I can see where this is leading,’ Wriothesley nodded knowingly. ‘Seymour re-instated –’

  ‘No,’ John cut him short, ‘that will not happen.’

  ‘But if the king –’

  ‘The king understands. Seymour must answer the charges of treason laid against him. Providing he admits to them he will be released from the Tower and invited back onto the council.’

  ‘Back onto the council,’ Wriothesley spluttered. ‘After what we had to do to remove him? And besides, I had pla-’

  John’s eyes narrowed. ‘You had what, Thomas?’

  Wriothesley licked his lips. ‘I had hopes that the country would be in better hands than Seymour’s.’

  ‘And it will be. Ours. Yours and mine.’

  Wriothesley snorted a laugh. ‘We disagree on so many things, Dudley.’

  ‘Only on matters of religion,’ John replied smoothly. ‘Oh, don’t look at me like that, Thomas. I know you cling to the Old Faith. That’s no concern of mine. Of course, the king would prefer it if it were not so, but...’ he gestured with his hands. ‘Tell me, the hopes you had. Anything in particular?’

  Wriothesley stared into John’s unblinking black eyes. ‘No,’ he lied. ‘Nothing in particular. I’ll go now. Good day, Dudley.’

  John watched him leave with an amused smile. Oh, Thomas, he thought, I know exactly what you had hoped for. A return to Popery with Mary on the throne. Well, if I have anything to do with it, you’re not even going to come close.

  35

  Ely Place, London, January 1550

  ‘You’re the last to arrive, my lord,’ Robert informed Wriothesley as he led him up the stairs to John’s bedchamber.

  ‘A damned inconvenience having to come here,’ Wriothesley muttered. ‘What exactly is wrong with your father?’

  ‘A rheum in his head, my lord. He has been very ill.’ Robert stopped and knocked. William Paulet opened the door and said ‘Ah, there you are, Wriothesley.’

  Wriothesley stepped through and Robert was about to leave when he saw John, propped up in the bed and swamped in blankets, discreetly gesture for him to enter. He closed the door behind him and moved to a shadowed corner of the crowded room.

  John had summoned the entire Privy Council to Ely Place to hold their meeting there. He had been ill for a couple of weeks – Robert had told the truth – but it had become politic to prolong his illness. He wanted to be on home ground when the inevitable happened.

  John knew Wriothesley believed he held John’s future in his hands. Wriothesley had, along with William Paulet, interrogated Edward Seymour in the Tower. Vengeance mixed with envy had led Seymour to admit his treasons but he had told his accusers that John Dudley had been with him every step of the way. Whether this was true or not, Wriothesley didn’t care to wonder. He saw an opportunity to get rid of Dudley, his chief rival and opponent on the council. Unfortunately for Wriothesley, he had few friends and William Paulet was not one of them. Paulet had informed John of everything Seymour and Wriothesley had said. So John was ready for Wriothesley when he was about to accuse him of treason.

  It happened rather sooner than John had expected. Arundel had just begun to speak of routine matters when Wriothesley silenced him with an ‘I must speak. You must listen to me.’ All heads turned to Wriothesley, who swelled with importance under their scrutiny. ‘Edward Seymour has confessed his treasons. Ordinarily, such a confession would mean death, but I’m told the king wishes Edward Seymour to be set free. Now, I have every respect for the king, but he is young and has a kind and generous heart. He does not see the evil in his uncle. And others close to him.’

  His eyes met John’s and a glimmer of complete understanding passed between them. John knew the moment to act had come.

  ‘My lord,’ he cried, throwing back the bedclothes and jumping from the bed, sliding a sword out from between the sheets and pointing it at Wriothesley. ‘I believe you wish Edward Seymour dead, though the king would not have it so. I would not have it so. Anyone who threatens the life of Edward Seymour means to have mine also. You, sir, are a traitor.’

  The colour faded from Wriothesley’s face. He started towards John but suddenly, Robert appeared before him, his hand pressing firmly upon his chest.

  ‘It’s not true,’ Wriothesley protested feebly.

  ‘It is true, my lords,’ Paulet said, moving to stand beside John. ‘My lord Wriothesley planned to remove both Edward Seymour and John Dudley on charges of treason and establish himself as head of the council.’

  The councillors muttered their astonishment, then loudly voiced their outrage. They appealed to John to act.

  ‘Paulet,’ John said, struggling to keep the triumph from his voice, ‘Thomas Wriothesley must be placed under arrest. Escort him to Lincoln House and put him under guard. I shall inform the king of what has happened here.’

  John threw his sword on the bed, his head suddenly swimming, his invalidity of the past few weeks catching up on him. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, leaning against the bed for support, ‘you must forgive me, but I cannot now continue. We will re-convene tomorrow. Our business can wait until then.’

  The councillors made their
bewildered goodbyes, following the dumbstruck Wriothesley and Paulet from the room.

  Robert helped John back into bed. ‘You should rest, Father.’

  ‘I will today, but I must get up tomorrow and go to the Palace. I can’t afford to absent myself any longer. I need to write a letter to the king about what’s happened here. If I dictate, will you write?’

  ‘Of course, Father. I’ll just get some paper and ink.’

  ‘Good boy,’ John sighed, sinking into the pillars. ‘Oh, and thank you, Rob.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘For standing between me and Wriothesley. I truly think he would have struck me if you hadn’t and in my poor state, I would have broken like glass.’

  ‘You’re welcome, Father,’ Robert grinned. ‘After all, I need you alive to make sure my marriage happens.’

  ‘Oh, yes, your marriage, that reminds me. I’ve had a reply from Sir John. Naturally he gives his consent and has proposed a dowry which I have accepted. So, you will get to marry your Amy and go and live in Norfolk.’

  Robert faltered. ‘Leave London?’

  ‘I thought that was the whole point. You are to be my man in Norfolk. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing, Father, but I will miss being at court.’

  ‘Norfolk’s not the other side of the world, Rob. I shall still need you here from time to time.’

  ‘You promise?’

  ‘I promise,’ John said with mock solemnity. ‘Now, get that ink and paper, will you?’

  Part Two

  The Married Man

  1

  Ely Place, London, June 1550

  Robert teased open the bed curtains an inch, wincing as a shaft of bright sunlight blasted across his eyes, confirming it was indeed morning. He let the curtains close, pressing his head deeper into the pillow.

  It was his first morning as a married man. In the curve of his arm, Amy moaned softly, her warm breath tickling the hairs on his chest. He thought back on the night just gone, when he and Amy had finally been left alone together; the awkwardness they discovered they shared, the heat of Amy’s skin on his.