John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, displayed his military genius during this time of trouble. He sent out his men to slaughter the rebels and from the first they inspired absolute terror. The revolt was over.
It was generally accepted that Warwick was the hero of the occasion, having so successfully subdued the Norfolk rising, and thus the cunning, ruthless man rose to power. He lost no time in forming a friendship with the City Fathers, who denounced the Protector's policy. Fortunately for Warwick, Somerset had lost the loyalty and respect of many subjects. The landowners blamed him for their losses and they never forgave him.
Warwick's spies were stationed everywhere, and when he was informed that Somerset had shown sympathy towards the Princess Mary over the question of her Mass, he decided that this would contribute to the Protector's downfall and destruction, since the rest of the Council strongly objected to Mary's religious practices. The Protector, in desperation, had even begun a correspondence with the exiled Cardinal Reginald Pole, that famous papist who had once had the audacity to write books against Henry VIII. Somerset was playing into Warwick's hands.
It was not until the beginning of October that someone hinted to the Protector that he was the object of an evil conspiracy. His first reaction was one of total bewilderment. Then, deciding that action must certainly be taken, he issued a handbill and had it distributed throughout the land, appealing to the conscience of the public to protect the King and himself from their enemies. He successfully smuggled Edward out of the palace and carried him off to Hampton Court, where they were later joined by Cranmer and Lord William Paget, who was one of Somerset's most able advisers.
'Why have you brought me here?' the young King wanted to know.
Somerset turned to him in exasperation. 'Your Majesty must surely realize that your royal person is in danger. Therefore it's necessary for you to remain here temporarily.'
'But I hate it here. Jane says it's haunted by my father's fifth wife, Catherine Howard.'
'You pay too much attention to what Jane says. I am older and wiser than she and I'm telling you that, haunted or not, this is your only refuge.'
Archbishop Cranmer, fearing that the Protector had spoken too harshly, placed an arm about Edward's shoulders and whispered, 'Your Majesty must not worry. We will only be here for a short while — until things are settled.'
A little later Sir Thomas Smith, the Secretary of State, joined them.
'Any news, my Lord?' he asked the Protector, clearly not expecting there would be any.
'None whatsoever. There'll probably be an attack sooner or later, but we're surrounded by five hundred armed guards, so there's a chance that the danger will be slightly lessened.'
'Slightly,' agreed Paget, poisonously sweet.
The Protector swore and stormed out of the room.
'My mother also haunts this palace,' Edward informed the men.
'We shall all sleep the better tonight now that Your Majesty has put our minds at rest,' Paget said coldly.
It was not long before the Protector re-appeared, looking somewhat more cheerful.
'I shall send a letter,' he announced. 'My son Edward will see to its despatch. It might have more effect if Your Majesty were to do the writing. Come and sit at the table. I'll tell you what to say.'
Edward dutifully wrote the important letter, under his uncle's resolute dictation. Before it was completed, the young Earl of Hertford came into the room, eager to set out on his mission. 'Here you are, my son,' said Somerset. 'Deliver it to nobody else but Lord Russell.'
'Yes, Father.' Hertford tucked the letter inside his sleeve, bowed to the company and hurried off, a dashing figure in slashed doublet and hose.
But the King's letter was never answered. On October 6th, Warwick and the Council, having assembled at Holborn, decided to ride out to Hampton Court. They had mounted their horses and were about to depart when they were loudly hailed by a distant figure.
'Somerset's puppet,' muttered Warwick, recognizing the approaching figure as Sir William Petre, one of Somerset's gentlemen.
'A very good day to you, Sir William,' called Warwick, sweeping off his hat with a magnificent gesture.
Sir William was a little taken aback at this friendly greeting.
'A good day to you also, my Lord,' he answered courteously. He lingered beside Warwick's horse, gathering the remnants of his failing courage.
Warwick came to his rescue. 'You have something to say to us, my friend?'
'I wish to know why you have gathered this impressive retinue, my Lord of Warwick, if I may be so bold to enquire.' As he spoke, Petre's underlip quavered.
'Certainly you may.' Warwick smiled. 'I'm positive that noble impulse alone would force Sir William Petre to question John Dudley's actions. My Lords of the Council and I plan to ride over to Hampton. The air there agrees with us so well.'
'If you wish to converse with His Grace of Somerset,' Petre said, 'you'd be wise to come peacefully or you will be arrested as traitors.' He trembled visibly at the boldness of his words.
'I see that you hold no flattering opinion of me.' Warwick sighed tragically. 'Perhaps we ought to discuss our differences under more congenial circumstances. Would you care to return to my rooms with me — as my honoured guest?'
It became clear to Somerset by nightfall when Sir William Petre did not return that Warwick had won him over to his side and neither the Protector nor his few remaining supporters dared contemplate the future.
A crowd had gathered in the Base Court of Hampton Court Palace. It was the only straw left to be clutched at. The trumpeters and Yeomen of the Guard led King Edward, Somerset, Cranmer, Paget and Sir William Cecil over the stone bridge and across the recently filled-up moat. The torchlight played on Edward's puny frightened face as he cried, 'Good people, I pray you, be good to us and to our uncle.'
The dignified use of the royal plural was not wasted on the pressing crowd and a hearty cheer of response rose from their midst.
It was now Somerset's turn to address the people. 'I shall not fall alone,' he shouted over the frozen air. 'If I am destroyed, the King will be destroyed. Kingdom, Commonwealth, all will be destroyed.'
'What makes him so damned certain that the country can't survive without him?' Paget muttered crossly.
Somerset pushed the little King forward. 'It is not me that they shoot at,' he continued, prodding at Edward. 'This is the mark at which they shoot.'
Having exposed Dudley's villainy to the presumably gullible public, they made their way to the courtyard. The horses were restive, longing to be off. They snorted eagerly, swishing their black tails as the King and the Protector swung into the saddles and rode furiously into the night. Windsor was their destiny, where they were later to be joined by Paget, Cranmer and three hundred armed men.
The next day, the road between Windsor and London was perpetually haunted by messengers, but no definite solution was reached. Cranmer felt that the Protector should agree to interview the Council and try to reach a compromise, and Paget supported him in this. The Protector himself was indecisive.
'But they will not drag me down to the level of an animal,' he sullenly declared. 'The King must write to them. He must express his love for me. He must remind them of the good that I have brought about. Have I tortured bodies on the rack? Have I burned heretics at the stake? Have I severed heads from shoulders, or rather,' he hastily corrected himself, 'have I beheaded as many traitors as did Henry the Eighth?'
'The one way to earn England's respect is to govern her through fear,' Paget said earnestly. 'She will not appreciate charity. She has been governed by cruelty for so long that she has acquired a great deal of this cruelty. She jeers at tolerance and protests against leniency. Ruthlessness reigned supreme in King Harry's day and they say he was the greatest King this country has ever had.'
This advice was given too late. Somerset received a written promise that he would not be dishonoured if he surrendered the Protectorate and yielded to arrest. He was still to
o astute a politician to place any trust in the promises of enemies, but he agreed to conform, there being no alternative. On October 10th, his breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of Warwick's party, and he was escorted, under guard, to the Tower. Only a month later, he was tried, found guilty and sentenced to death. His brother's spirit was avenged.
Chapter 9
In the summer of 1551, Lady Dorset's two half-brothers had died of the sweating sickness and she and her husband jointly succeeded them as Duke and Duchess of Suffolk.
'They couldn't have died at a better time,' said the new Duchess, grinning broadly.
Jane shuddered at her mother's cold-blooded attitude towards the recent deaths. True, they were only her half-brothers but one would have expected a little sorrow. She wondered idly if her mother would care very much if she, Jane, were to die. Her curiosity over this question strengthened and one day she asked Frances.
'Do you consider yourself such a blessing that I should miss you?' the Duchess jeered.
Jane was hurt, but she swiftly veiled her pain with careless mockery. 'Not at all, madam. I merely wished to discover whether my total indifference to your fate were reciprocated. My conscience would suffer sorely were you to have affection for me, since I could never return it.'
She was beaten for this impertinence.
Jane was, of course, aware of the significance of her parents' promotion. A Duke's daughter was of more importance than the daughter of a Marquis, and therefore more valuable on the marriage market. She felt despair also, for she knew she was being dragged further away from John Aylmer. She could no longer deny her feeling for her tutor. She was in love with him and clearly he wasn't indifferent to her. Sometimes, when she glanced up from her lesson books, she found him staring at her oddly, and then he would turn guiltily away. It puzzled and confused her.
Soon, however, she had very little time for pondering, for her family swept her away with them on a round of social visits which lasted until January. Christmas was spent at the home of Lord Willoughby, who was the Duchess of Suffolk's nephew and ward. The Grey sisters were excited, for Lord Willoughby was merry and good-natured, and had promised them masques and parties.
Two days before Christmas, Lady Suffolk came to her daughters' apartment and informed them that the Princess Mary was to join them that day. 'And I order you to treat her with courtesy,' she added sternly, her hard eyes fixed steadfastly upon Jane, who had often been flagrantly rude to Mary in the past.
Jane met her mother's eyes unflinchingly.
'We will, Mother,' cried Katherine eagerly.
The ghost of a smile quivered on Lady Suffolk's lips for, if she could be said to have favoured any of her children, it was pretty, blue-eyed Katherine.
'Very well. She is to arrive after dinner, so you must all be downstairs to meet her.'
Jane was dismayed. 'Why are you so delighted at the prospect of her visit?' she asked her sister sulkily, when their mother had left them.
'Because I shall be allowed to stay up later, of course,' answered Katherine, surprised at her sister's lack of understanding. 'Anyhow, she might have presents for us. Remember that diamond and gold necklace she once gave you?'
Jane remembered the necklace with some discomfort, for she had never worn it since Mary had placed it about her thin, childish neck four years earlier.
'I'll wear it today,' she decided, after a few moments of sober reflection. 'And I'll try hard to be nice to Mary, even if I don't like her very much. She has after all been good to me.'
Her first thought when she saw Mary was: 'How ill and old she looks.' Mary Tudor certainly did look older than her thirty-five years and the bright yellow dress she wore did nothing to help her: it emphasized her unhealthy pallor and her thin face was drawn, dull and ill-humoured. Hers was the face of a woman who had lived so long with suffering and lonely bitterness that they had become familiar to her hurt mind. She was a woman who, being shy and touchy and irritable, seemed to flee from the sun, preferring to live in the shadows.
Jane, whose health was usually perfect, felt a wave of pity for this ageing and unhappy princess. And how disgraceful it was, she felt, to be thirty-five years old and still unmarried!
She grimaced slightly when Mary stooped to kiss her cheek.
'So you still have the necklace I gave you,' observed the Princess, and she was pink with pleasure. 'Are you so fond of it?'
'It's very beautiful. Your Highness,' answered Jane solemnly.
Mary had always found Jane Grey's air of grave precocity oddly amusing, and her thin lips parted in a rare smile at this answer.
The Grey sisters stared at the Princess, intrigued: it wasn't often that one saw Mary actually smile.
'You mustn't gape at Her Highness like that,' Lady Suffolk rebuked the girls later. 'It is vulgar and offensive. Have the goodness to remember your breeding, and try to do credit to your family.'
'We weren't gaping,' flashed Jane indignantly. 'Besides, she is not of great importance.'
'Mind your tongue, fool,' the Duchess snapped. 'As your father says, anything might happen. If Edward dies and Mary succeeds him, you will wish you befriended her. You must take these things into consideration if you want to get anywhere at all. The same applies to Elizabeth, although if we are lucky, neither of those two will get anywhere near the throne.'
Jane shrugged wearily. Personally, she didn't care very much who succeeded Edward, but there was little time for bickering, as preparations had to be made for that night's party. She hurried off to select her gown. What did she. Lady Jane Grey, care for Mary Tudor, who was bitter, pessimistic, absurdly sentimental and, worst of all, a papist? She had numerous partners for the evening — enough, said Mistress Ellen proudly, to last her a fortnight. But now she must relax for an hour or two. She began to play the virginals, but a messenger arrived shortly to tell her that the noise was giving the Princess Mary a headache.
'Sour grapes,' Mistress Ellen muttered.
'I'd better stop. It's no fun for anyone to have a headache, and anything might happen,' said Jane, unconsciously quoting her parents. She flung herself on to the bed and tried to sleep.
In the huge bedroom that had been allotted to them. Lord and Lady Suffolk drank Hippocras and played chess by the fireside.
'Your mind is not on the game, my love,' said the Duke presently.
Frances sighed. 'I can hide nothing from you, Harry.'
'Indeed you can't. What is troubling you? You know we keep nothing from each other and there is nobody to hear us.'
'It's the girls.' She began to stride up and down the room, magnificent as a lion in her furred gown. 'Mary hasn't an ounce of beauty or brains, and Katherine is so weak-minded. Suppose something happened to us? How would those two manage without us?'
'Jane would deal with the problem if it arose, I'm sure.'
'Jane has ideas of her own. She's clever enough about Latin and Mathematics, but she hasn't the first notion about people. I'm sure she doesn't care whether or not she makes a brilliant match. She would sooner bury her head in a Latin book.'
'Even so, she will learn.'
They exchanged slow smiles. With his charm and her initiative, and their combined ambition, they could be confident of success.
They had no cause to regret their decision to build something of their loveless marriage. Romance, affection, there never could be, but respect and mutual interests were possible. Frances, from despising her husband as a weak, vain popinjay, had come to acknowledge a clear-headed intelligence behind that nervous, irritable face, and she paid it silent tribute, for she herself was not a particularly intelligent or diplomatic person. Her actions were usually dominated by instinct and bull-headed determination. She knew what she wanted and she fought for it grimly, avoiding the devious planning and analysis peculiar to her husband. For his part, Henry Grey knew the value of his wife's thrusting, fighting, bullying strength. At times he deplored her lack of discretion, and he believed he would always fear her terrible te
mpers, but they understood each other and were, on the whole, satisfied with their businesslike marriage.
John Dudley, the Earl of Warwick, was now the most important man in the country. Somerset had been beheaded in January 1552, and almost immediately after this grim event, Warwick was promoted to the Dukedom of Northumberland.
'We would be wise to ally ourselves with him, my dear,' said the Duke of Suffolk to his wife.
Frances nodded, her hard grey eyes shining. 'And he has five lusty sons,' she enthused. 'How about Robert for Jane?'
'Can it be that you haven't heard?' marvelled Suffolk. 'The young fool has married a simple country wench named Amy Robsart.'
'God's death! What can his parents be thinking of?'
'I understand it was a love match. I dare say Northumberland, having four other sons, felt he could be lenient with Robert. Besides, I heard in strictest confidence from ...'
'Enough of Robert Dudley's paltry affairs!' exclaimed the Duchess impatiently. 'You say Northumberland could prove useful. Well, so say I.'
'Then we shall support him, Frances?'
'We shall.'
Thus, supported by the Duke and Duchess of Suffolk, Sir William Paget, the Earl of Pembroke, and King Edward himself, Northumberland gained absolute power over the government. He was shrewd, quick-witted, possessed of bloody courage in battle — as long as he was winning. He was a nervous, impatient man, devoid of charm, although his brutal dark looks might have presented a kind of challenge to some women. His manner was usually coldly correct, and his smile, while it could be pleasant, lacked warmth. He was prone to many tiresome ailments, but his mind was possessed of feverish, demoniacal energy. He was adored by his wife and family, but most other people disliked him.
'We had better bring Jane and Katherine to his notice,' Lord Suffolk suggested.
So Jane returned to Court, pressed by her parents. She was welcomed warmly by Edward.
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