Her Highness, the Traitor

by Susan Higginbotham

  “No. It brought me security and wealth. They are poor substitutes when you know yourself to have once known something better.” Mary gripped the rosary she carried at her side as a man might grip a sword. “I dishonored my mother’s memory that day, and for very little purpose. I will die by my own hand before I do such a thing again.”

  “Mary!”

  “No, I lie. I would not do such a shameful act. I would do something else.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Instead of answering me, Mary turned, bidding me with a motion to follow her. Stopping outside of the manor’s small chapel, she went inside, leaving me to stand self-consciously by its door. When she returned after some moments, her face was entirely at peace. “We may return to my chamber.”

  I obeyed. When the door had closed upon us once again, Mary spoke. “I do trust you, Cousin, and I will tell you of my plan now that I have prayed for guidance. But you must promise—I will not make you swear an oath, but merely promise me, as my cousin and my friend—that you will tell no one of this.”

  My heart thumped. What in the world had I gotten myself into? “I cannot promise if it involves anything that would bring harm to my husband or to anything that concerns him. Harry and I are not as close as some couples,” I admitted, “but he is kind in his own way, and he has the highest claim upon my loyalty.”

  “It will not harm your husband. Indeed, he might welcome it. So do you promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “I believe it is no longer possible to marry out of England, so I plan to flee. The emperor has agreed to help me.”

  My mouth fell open. “What on earth are you thinking? England is your home. Your brother and sister are here.”

  “Elizabeth? Sometimes I doubt we even have the same father. In any case, she is the darling of the council, now that Thomas Seymour is safely gone, and can be no friend to me. As for the king, he is Warwick’s and the council’s creature now. They are turning him against me. It will only be worse for me as time goes on, I fear. I see no hope but to leave, and in secret.”

  “I can’t believe the king or his council means you any harm.”

  “You are naïve,” was the short answer.

  “What did the king say when you saw him in February?”

  “He was very loving, very friendly. Of course, Warwick was sick and not at his side.”

  “He is quite often sick. He missed his own sons’ weddings. Perhaps he does not have the absolute hold over the king that you fear, since he is not constantly around him.”

  “It does not matter. If he is not there, his creatures are, like his brother Andrew Dudley.” Mary looked at me stonily. “I believe I made a mistake in telling you this. You will go to the council.”

  “No,” I snapped. “I promised, and I will not. But I cannot help but think you exaggerate the danger to yourself. If you confine the Mass to yourself and your women, how can that antagonize the council? It has conceded that much, hasn’t it?”

  “For now.” Mary lifted her chin. “You think me mad, don’t you? But I tell you, the council means me ill.”

  I was silent, for in a way, I did think Mary mad—or partly so. I could not believe the king, or the council for that matter, wished her harm. They might rail against Mary’s sharing Mass with any traveling stroller who happened to be in the neighborhood, as Harry put it, but most of these men had been servants of King Henry. Surely they would not want to see any harm come to his oldest daughter.

  Mary read my thoughts. “You think the king will be bound by his love for me as his sister, but remember what happened with Thomas Seymour, and what almost happened to Somerset. Both of them the king’s uncles.”

  “Thomas Seymour was courting disaster. It could not have ended otherwise for him. As for the Duke of Somerset, no permanent harm came to him.”

  “For now. That could change.”

  “And the emperor approves of this plan of yours to escape?”

  “Yes. Not wholeheartedly, I think, but his sister has given her support, as well.” The Holy Roman Emperor, Mary’s first cousin, Charles V, had once been engaged to Mary when she was very young. The match had fallen through, as had all prospective matches for Mary, but Charles had continued to take an interest in Mary’s affairs, both for political and personal reasons. His sister, Mary of Hungary, the regent of the Low Countries, was said to be more vigorous than he these days. However misguided I might think Mary’s plan was, it certainly had supporters in the highest places.

  But that was not enough to make me feel better about the plan. “You will never be able to come back to England if you accomplish this. You will be an exile, and what kind of life will that be? If you ask me, this is a foolish idea. I would abide here to see what happens.”

  “I did not ask you, and I do not want to abide here to suffer more.”

  I knew nothing else to say. Catherine of Aragon had been a legend for stubbornness in her time, and it was evident her daughter was no different. I did not even ask for details, half because I feared Mary would take this as evidence I was spying, half because I truly did not want to know.

  “I don’t know why I told you this,” Mary mused. “You could hardly be of help even if you supported the idea. Your husband is too prominent for you to escape notice. Perhaps I want to be talked out of it. I don’t know. I was born in England. I love the English people, for they loved my own mother. And if I leave, those who stay behind will be left with no livelihood, no way of upholding the true religion. I will be deserting them. But I have told myself all of these things, and all of the things you told me, and in the end it makes no difference. I want to leave.”

  “You have made definite plans, then, I gather?”

  “Yes.”

  I supposed the convenience to the sea was the reason Mary had chosen this manor as her residence, but I asked no more questions. “I hope that you will think upon this more and not act impulsively. You said just now you have doubts. I think you are wise to have them.”

  “There is time yet to think, but I know I shall not change my mind. But we have done with this. Let us have a game of cards with my ladies.”

  ***

  Back at Bradgate, I spent the days in a high state of restlessness—and guilt—waiting to hear news of Mary’s flight. I had not thought of it at the time, naturally, but what if the emperor had a sinister reason for wanting Mary out of England? Was he planning to send her back at the head of an invading army, to depose her young brother and establish herself as a Papist queen? I could not imagine Mary agreeing to such a scheme, but if her trusted cousin proposed it, and framed it as a matter of religious duty…

  But I had made Mary a promise, and I kept it.

  Then, toward the end of July, Harry came from London to Bradgate, all smiles. “It seems as if you missed some excitement when you visited the lady Mary.”

  I managed to keep my voice level. “What do you mean?”

  “The fool woman had plans to escape from England! Don’t ask me why—she’s got it into her fool head that she’s being persecuted. Actually, my dear, it’s rather embarrassing. She almost succeeded.”

  I put a hand to my throat. “She is a prisoner?”

  “No. She’s not in custody at all. From what the council can make out, she laid these plans to leave the country—and then, when men and ships from the emperor arrived to help her, she dithered. Kept coming up with excuses why she couldn’t leave immediately, why she had to pack every trinket she owned, why she couldn’t leave certain ladies behind. The locals were getting suspicious, with these foreign ships lurking about, and the emperor’s men couldn’t stay indefinitely, waiting for her to make up her mind. She kept wailing, ‘What shall I do? What is to become of me?’” Harry chuckled. “The emperor’s men had to keep inventing all sorts of stories to explain their presence—that on
e was a corn chandler, that another was looking for pirates—but the men of Essex were too intelligent to be duped. They told the council, and we sent Sir John Gates into the area to put a stop to any more of that nonsense. So now, the emperor’s men are heading back to Flanders where they belong, and the lady Mary is no doubt wishing that she’d acted sooner.”

  “What will happen to her?”

  “Nothing, although she’s a fool if she thinks this has helped her in the matter of her ridiculous Masses. As much as she would like to see herself as a martyr, the council isn’t willing to oblige by imprisoning her. The king would like to have a word with her, that’s all. He’s not happy about his kingdom being painted as a place from which one must flee, as you can imagine, or about the emperor and his sister sticking their noses and their Hapsburg jaws into our affairs, but he prefers to speak to Mary quietly rather than to create a stir over this.”

  I could not help but sigh in relief.

  Harry looked at me sharply. “You were visiting Mary during the planning, or part of it. Did she confide in you?”

  I lied with more ease than I quite liked. “She did tell me of some of her fears for the future and talked rather wildly about getting out of England, but I did not take her seriously.”

  “No, how could you?” Harry snorted. “I hope this little episode teaches the lady Mary that she has no head for intrigue. Or a head for governance, lest, God forbid, anything should ever happen to the king.” He raised the glass of ale from which he had been sipping. “Long life to King Edward.”

  ***

  “I must talk to you.”

  Since my indiscretion of the autumn, Adrian Stokes and I had been on cordial, if formal, terms. I did not know why I was confiding in him now, except something told me I could trust him, just as Mary had felt she could trust me.

  “Perhaps you have heard of the lady Mary’s plan to escape, and its failure.”

  “Something of it, my lady.”

  “I knew of it and said nothing. I made a promise to her that I would not, and I kept it.”

  “That must have been a painful position for you to be in, my lady.”

  I relaxed a little under Adrian Stokes’s sympathetic gaze. “Yes, it was. We are friends as well as cousins. I did not ask for her confidence, but when she gave it to me, I felt bound to uphold it, even though I thought her plan was unwise and advised her against it.”

  “Does my lord know that she told you?”

  “No. I concealed it from him, and when he asked me this very day whether I had had knowledge of it, I lied to him. I am not proud of that, but…” I looked down at my feet, then up again. “But that is my own problem. What I am concerned about is that word did get out about Mary’s escape plan. It distresses me to think that Mary might believe that I betrayed her.”

  “And you wish me to tell her?”

  “Yes, but I do not wish you to risk going yourself. Harry is not an ill-tempered man, but I don’t know if—”

  “I have brothers and friends. I will find a way to get a message to her—a verbal one. It would be foolish to trust something to writing.” Adrian Stokes paused, then added, “I should tell you, my lady, that I have no sympathy with the lady Mary’s religious ideas or, indeed, with her contumaciousness toward the king and his council. I share the views of my lord Dorset. But it distresses me that her folly has troubled your mind.”

  I thanked him. A couple of weeks later, Master Stokes came to me. After we had discussed business for a short time, he said, “My brother William made contact with the lady we spoke of. She assured him that she knew you had nothing to do with a certain matter becoming known. I hope that eases your mind, my lady.”

  “It does, very much, and I am grateful to you.”

  Master Stokes bowed his head, apparently expecting to be given leave to depart. Instead, I asked, “I gather you and your brothers are close, Master Stokes?”

  “Yes, my lady. We have each other’s confidence.”

  “Harry is fond of his brothers too. I wish my daughter Jane and my daughter Kate were on friendlier terms with each other,” I confessed. “There is nothing like having a sister or brother one can confide in.”

  ”I believe your ladyship’s sister, the lady Eleanor, died several years ago.”

  I nodded. “I still miss her. Have you ever been married, Master Stokes?”

  “No, my lady. I had intentions once, but the young lady died.”

  “I am very sorry to hear that. Have you ever thought of marrying?”

  “No, my lady, until recently I have lived the life of a soldier, and it would not have been meet to take a wife. And in truth, I had no desire to marry. I took my betrothed’s death very hard. I loved her, you see. But forgive me, my lady, that is probably more than you wished to hear.”

  “Why? I asked a question, and you answered it. I hope you are happy with us, Master Stokes.”

  “I am very happy in this household.”

  “Well, good.” I could hardly go on asking Master Stokes personal questions, I realized, though something in me longed to keep on doing exactly that. Reluctantly, I said, “You may go now, Master Stokes.”

  ***

  Despite my worry about being found out, our life at Bradgate went on as normal. Harry’s brothers often visited, and one day in August when the weather had been especially fine, we decided to go hunting.

  It seemed too fair a day for any young person to spend indoors, so once I had donned my riding habit, I went to Jane’s chamber. “We are going hunting, Jane. Would you like to join us?”

  “No, Mother. You know I think that folly.”

  “I didn’t see you turning down the venison the other day,” I said mildly. “It came from our own park, and the deer certainly didn’t walk into the kitchen and offer itself up as a sacrifice. Besides, you needn’t actually hunt. Just riding in the fresh air would benefit you. You have been cooped up with your books too much lately.”

  “I am working on Father’s New Year’s present. It is a translation from Latin into Greek of Heinrich Bullinger’s treatise on marriage. I must get on with it.”

  “Very well,” I said. I looked at Jane’s handiwork: a page covered with what I could only assume was flawless Greek. “What does Bullinger have to say on marriage?”

  “I can hardly summarize it in a sentence, but in short, he believes it a state to be most desired. There is an English version,” Jane suggested. “Perhaps you might want to read it.”

  “No, thank you,” I said. “Having been married for many years, I do not think I need instruction on the subject.”

  ***

  I did not last long at the hunt. As the dogs spotted their prey and yapped ecstatically, I felt a familiar pain in my gut: the cramps that presaged my monthly course. Some months I scarcely had pain at all; others, the cramps were so bad that I could not speak through them. I decided to ride back to the house and rest. As I made my way back to my chamber with Bess Cavendish, who had been one of my waiting women before her marriage and often visited me as a friend, one of the servants approached. “My lady, Master Ascham arrived in your absence and is paying a call on the lady Jane.”

  I sighed, wondering whether I should postpone my rest and greet Master Ascham. Such men were common guests at Bradgate, for over the past couple of years, Harry had gained a reputation as a friend and patron of scholars, who naturally flocked to our house. My Kate regarded them as a bore, while little Mary generally took their visits as a time to scuttle off onto the grounds of Bradgate if she could manage it. Jane, naturally, delighted in their company, especially as they shamelessly flattered her and Harry. I, of course, was a different matter. Though the scholars appreciated a well-kept chamber and a well-cooked meal as much as did lesser mortals, it never occurred to them I might bear some responsibility for the quality of this hospitality. The
y confined their exchanges with me to pleasantries, if that much.

  Today’s arrival, Roger Ascham, had tutored the lady Elizabeth but had left her household after the uproar about Thomas Seymour. He was not a recipient of Harry’s generosity, but he had been impressed with Jane’s scholarship and had suggested some books for her to read, and he was friendly with her own tutor, John Aylmer. As a result, Jane and Ascham had corresponded now and then. He was on such terms with Jane that I could greet him and then take to my bed without causing offense, leaving Jane to be his hostess, I decided. I made my way to her outer chamber, the door of which had been left slightly ajar.

  “So your ladyship decided not to join your family on their hunting trip?” Ascham was saying.

  “Yes. Such idle pastimes are not to my liking. Mother urged me, but I was absorbed in my translation for Father, and in this Plato.”

  “Your parents must be very proud of your dedication to learning, my lady.”

  “Father is, but Mother has no appreciation for such things. She is a woman of limited intellect, you see.”

  Bess gasped. I opened my mouth, then shut it as Jane’s voice continued relentlessly.

  “She is entirely absorbed in such pastimes as gambling and hunting. She can barely speak French, which is astounding, considering that my grandmother was its queen. All she can do is sew shirts and make comfits and the like, and then she presumes to criticize me when I fall short at these things.” Jane’s voice dripped with scorn. “As if there are not servants to do those tasks, and do them better than she ever could.”

  “With respect to your ladyship, I think you judge your mother too harshly,” Ascham said. “She was not educated in the fashion that you have been, and even if she had been, few have been blessed with your gifts, my lady.”

  “True, but she is so insufferable! I am glad you have come here today. I have longed to speak to someone about this, and there is no one here who would understand. They are all so commonplace. If Father were here more often, it would not be so bad, but with him gone on business so much now, there is simply no one I can talk to, except about inanities.”