When she was comfortably seated, he addressed the company formally and then went on: 'I have here a letter from the Lady Mary, dated from Kenninghall in Norfolk. She demands the Crown and all that she arrogantly considers to be within her hereditary rights. We are all of us agreed to serve our most gracious Sovereign lady. Queen Jane, are we not?'
The anticipated hum of assent came forth, rather feebly.
'You don't sound very certain,' growled Northumberland. He waved another document at them. 'We are going to correct the Lady Mary's wayward assumptions and you, my friends, are going to sign this. My Lord Archbishop.' He swung round on Cranmer. 'Sign here.'
Several refused to sign.
'I will have my way,' Northumberland shouted.
'Your Grace,' interposed Jane, rising from her chair. 'I fear you are being rather presumptuous. May I remind you that, by making me Queen, you gave me supreme power and I forbid the ratification of that letter.'
For a moment she thought he was going to strike her. His eyes were blazing as he raised his fist then, restrained by something in her face, he crashed it down on to the table and let out a yelp of pain. 'Madam, it is unfitting for you to condone this most treasonable conduct.' He glared menacingly round the room. 'Have done, you traitors. Sign this paper or, by Christ's wounds, I shall sign away your heads.'
The threat of death caused the Council to re-consider.
'And now,' the Duke said contentedly, when all the signatures had been accumulated, 'Your Majesty's signature will be required.'
Jane studied the document, her hands shaking. The theme of the letter was that Edward's half-sisters were both bastards, since their father's marriages to their mothers had been invalid, and that she, Jane, was the undoubted Queen.
It was both brutal and insulting.
'I will not sign!' she exclaimed, thrusting the paper from her. 'Never will I be forced to so offend the Lady Mary's Grace by signing my name beneath this foul insult you pay her.'
Northumberland dismissed everyone but his sons, Ambrose and John, and the Duke of Suffolk. They surrounded the little Queen. Jane sat up straight and wished that they would all stop badgering her and let her go to bed, if only for a few hours.
'Your Majesty,' began Northumberland, leaning against her chair. 'Your Majesty, if Mary Tudor comes to the throne, she'll plunge us all into civil war with her popish nonsense. Did your accomplished tutor ever instruct you in the history of this country?'
'He did, and what he didn't teach me I learned, regardless of whether I wished to or not, from my saintly parents who were determined that I should prepare myself for my regal glory by studying the adventures of past monarchs.'
'Then I presume you know about the Wars of the Roses?'
'Even I am not entirely ignorant of events which took place a mere seventy years ago,' Jane rejoined.
'Then I need not acquaint you with the desolate facts. Civil war has since been dreaded. That was why King Henry the Eighth wanted a son so badly. If the succession is secured, all is well, but...'
'This country hasn't been ruled by a woman since the reign of Queen Mathilda,' interrupted Jane. 'I fail to see that it will be accepted now. But since there are only female claimants to the throne, a woman must reign. But Mary and Elizabeth are before me. It's unthinkable to jostle them aside and snatch the throne.'
'Madam, even for you we can't resurrect King Henry and his pageant of consorts to settle this dispute.' The Duke's eyes hardened. 'Will you sign or must I win your cooperation by other means?' With one swift motion, he produced his sword and held it purposefully, only a few inches from her throat.
'Would you add murder to your list of crimes?' Jane said, her voice cracking with terror. 'Besides, you have too much to lose if I die.'
He smiled into her wide, frightened eyes, and she shivered.
'Never over-estimate yourself, my dear. There is always your sister, the charming Lady Katherine, who is more docile and pliant than you are. You and your obstinacy have brought us nothing but trouble from the start. You'd be foolish to tempt me to do this thing.'
He meant it. Meeting those snake-like eyes, Jane knew that he wouldn't hesitate to destroy her with his own hands. Had he not murdered the Duke of Somerset?
She allowed herself to think for one awful moment of what would happen to her if she refused to obey him. He would murder her callously and bury her somewhere in the depths of the Tower. That was what had happened to the little princes all those years ago. There was nothing to prevent it from happening again.
In despair, she turned to Suffolk. 'Father, will you watch him murder me?'
'You always were stubborn,' Suffolk mumbled, ashamed of his cowardice, angry with his daughter for exposing it.
She didn't bother to plead with John and Ambrose, who were their father's creatures. For the first time since her marriage, she wished that her husband was beside her. He wouldn't have let them hurt her.
'There is nobody to stand by my side, now that John Aylmer has gone,' Jane whispered. Shaken, she fell back into her chair.
'Come, Madam, your signature,' urged Northumberland sweetly, noting the change in her demeanour.
Her mind groped feverishly for the right decision. Why should she die this heroic death for Mary, who had always disliked her? Why should she sacrifice her life, her talent and her blood to this remorseless bully's sword? Even now, Robert Dudley might have captured Mary. Of what possible use then was Jane's death?
The document lay before her. She had only to write 'Jane R' and the deed was done. There was no escape, except by Northumberland's sword.
Sixteen years before, the woman whom Jane was replacing had been faced with a document that she was commanded to sign, on pain of death. She, too, had felt that she would be very wrong to sign, but she dared not disobey, so she wrote her name slowly, hurt tears swelling into her short-sighted eyes as she agreed that the mother she had loved had never been married to her father — that she herself was a bastard, with no true claim to the throne, that her father was Head of the Church in England. She had never forgiven herself.
'I'm too young and too selfish to be a martyr,' Jane told herself and, with that, she lifted the quill and signed her name in her flourishing, trained Italian hand.
She knew that she, like Mary, would never forgive herself for defying her conscience, but it was done, and at least she had escaped death.
Rising, Jane faced her father-in-law squarely. 'My Lord, you'll answer for this with your head,' she said quietly.
Northumberland jeered.
In the Queen's bedroom, Jane was being prepared for bed. She stood before the mirror, regarding her reflection, so dim and frightening in the firelight.
Sullenly, she removed the jewelled coif from her head, shaking her hair out so that her sister could comb it. Her limbs were aching and her head throbbed unbearably. If only all this nonsense were over and she could go home to her beloved Bradgate and its associations with her tutor. But she would not think of Bradgate, not until she was alone when it did not matter if she cried.
'So I am now truly Queen,' she remarked lightly. 'The highest lady in the land, Head of the Church in England and all else that an English monarch is supposed to be. And the people hate me as they hated poor Anne Boleyn.'
'They don't hate you, Jane,' Katherine said hurriedly.
'They only hate the arrogance that you represent,' Catherine added. 'If they feel a personal resentment towards anyone, it's my father, and he doesn't care, so why should you?'
Jane smiled. These two young girls could never know how they had brightened her days with their vivacity and their merry chatter. They had such a charming way of trying to cheer her. She wished she could speak with Katherine privately for a few moments; she wanted so much to know if her sister was happy in her marriage.
A frightened little maid fluttered into the room and dropped a quick curtsy.
'Your Lord husband comes this way, Your Majesty,' she reported breathlessly.
&n
bsp; 'I won't see him,' Jane said carelessly, climbing into bed. 'Send him away. I've already told you that I don't want to be disturbed tonight.'
But Guildford was already in the room and stood glaring round at the little assembly.
'You may leave us,' he barked at the women.
Jane noticed, with some irritation, how frightened they were — as if he were already King. Well, she was not frightened of him. Thrusting her chin high, she said imperiously, 'I insist that they stay.'
She sat up in bed, her long, red-gold hair falling about her. Guildford felt a twinge of wistfulness as he looked at her. He admired her and wanted her, but she seemed to despise him. He knew that Katherine Grey and his sister, Catherine Dudley, were trying hard not to giggle at his masterful display, and he felt slightly ridiculous.
Lady Northumberland's entry broke the hostile silence. She came pattering into the room, a rather absurd figure in her long white bedgown, her light brown hair rolling in thick curls down her back.
'You cannot continue with this obstinacy,' she squawked, wagging a forbidding finger at Jane. 'Guildford is your husband and must be treated as such.'
'I am the Queen,' retorted Jane. 'And he is my subject.'
'You're behaving like a naive schoolgirl.'
'And you are an interfering screech-owl.'
Guildford had the audacity to laugh outright at that.
'You haven't heard the last of this, my girl.' The Duchess drew herself up to her full height, fixed her daughter-in-law with a look of icy loathing and departed with as much dignity as her substantial build would allow. The women, who had been hovering uncertainly by the sombre hangings, now retired to an ante-room at Guildford's command.
He glanced across at his wife, his blue eyes filled with admiration. Jane buried herself beneath the counterpane.
'Jane,' he entreated, seating himself on the edge of her bed, 'why do you deny me my marital rights? Are you afraid I'll hurt you, or is my person utterly repulsive?'
The sheets were thrown back and Jane's fair head slowly emerged. 'What a fool you are, Guildford Dudley, when you know we care so little about each other.'
'Personal feelings play no part in the conception of heirs,' shouted Guildford, his patience deserting him. He laid his hands on her shoulders and shook her roughly, until she felt that her neck would snap if he did not stop. 'By the living God, I've been patient with you. I've tried to defend you when my parents rage about you. I've tried to be gentle with you, but you try my patience.'
'Take your hands from me,' ordered Jane, trembling.
To her surprise, he did so. His hands sought hers as he tried to reason with her. 'Why can't you face reality, Jane darling? You're sitting on a shaky throne. Mary has somehow given my brother Robert the slip and nobody knows where she is. Even now, Spanish fleets may be coming to her aid.'
'But the Duke assures me that he has the coastline guarded, so she can't possibly leave the country, and Spain won't interfere till she knows which side is winning.'
'Don't believe it, sweetheart. The Emperor is Mary's cousin. Spain is mightier than England — that sounds treasonable, but there it is. She has more ships, more wealth and more power. Nothing will prevent the Emperor Charles from coming to the rescue of his wronged Catholic relative, if he chooses. Can't you see that she must be kept down at all costs? This has become a battle of lives - yours or hers. It would be too risky to spare any sympathy for her now. Now, if you were to bear a son she would be set back several paces? The central point of this entire facade is the lack of male heirs. But even a daughter would weaken her claim - one more claimant, and proof that we two can produce healthy children, as I know we can.'
'I shall never, under any circumstances, consummate this marriage that is so distasteful to me,' Jane said airily.
'Well, I shan't force you against your will, of course, unless it becomes necessary or I can no longer restrain my devouring passion for you. I'm not that much of a brute, you may be relieved to hear. But I'll never stop trying.'
'In which case, my Lord, you'll never stop losing,' declared a thoroughly determined Jane.
He smiled lazily and left her without another word.
Jane basked in her triumph. She thought her husband weak, because he did not persist in his pursuit of her. She could not see that his reasons for being so submissive were mainly humane — that he genuinely cared for her and could not bear to hurt her. She, who was usually so astute in her judgement of other people, was quite blind where he was concerned. Nobody had ever loved her as he did and, when faced with this type of love, she did not recognize it.
Chapter 14
It was night when a lone rider galloped up to the gates of the Tower and demanded to see Lord Guildford.
'Who are you?' demanded the guard at the gates, rather spoiling the drama of the moment. His voice was gruff with suspicious insolence.
'I come from my Lord of Northumberland.' The rider's face was damp with sweat in the flaring torchlight. 'For God's sake, man, let me in at once if you have any love for the Duke.' He produced a large jewel and flashed it about beneath the guard's disapproving nose. 'See, I have here a ring which my Lord Guildford will recognize as one belonging to His Grace.'
The guard, eyeing him with frank distrust, said he'd notify Lord Guildford.
'And give him the ring as proof of my purpose.'
Minutes later, the guard came back, surly with disappointment. 'My Lord will receive you now. I don't know why he'll receive you, but he will.'
Guildford Dudley was sitting at supper with Jane, Suffolk and Cranmer when the messenger was ushered into the room. He rose and advanced towards him.
'Do you bring news from my noble father?'
'A letter, my Lord.'
'Thank you, friend. Take this for your pains.' Guildford tossed a coin which was caught deftly. 'If you go to the servants' quarters, they'll give you some refreshment. News travels like the plague in this place, so I've no doubt that they'll be expecting you.'
'Then I must not disappoint them, my Lord.' The messenger grinned, bowing low. Then he hurried out, eager to quench his thirst with a few cups of ale.
Guildford broke the shiny red seal of the letter, his frown deepening as he read through its contents.
'Bad news, my Lord?' Cranmer enquired, mildly.
'Yes, I'm afraid so,' Guildford said, without looking up. 'Mary seems to be getting the better of us all. Already, she's at the head of thirty thousand men, and leading them like a man. She has courage, if not sense, I must credit her with that. And the commoners are rallying to her cause. Most of my father's army have deserted him, perfidious traitors that they are.'
'You do their intelligence little justice,' Jane said cynically.
'Well, we'll just have to find more men,' Suffolk decided.
'As always, the briskness of your hereditary logic dumbfounds me, sir, but we can't afford to, unless we guard the Tower alone. Besides which, we shall have to clutch frantically to the remnants of our glorious cavalcade.' Guildford paced up and down the chamber, tapping restlessly on the hilt of his sword — a habit of his.
'Or go down with all the flags flying?' suggested the Duke of Suffolk.
'Let us exchange broad beams of understanding.'
'I can't help but marvel at your joviality,' Jane complained. 'It portrays either reckless courage, which I don't think I can credit either of you with, or flagrant stupidity. The fact remains, we are all in grave danger and, so far, nothing is being done about it.'
Guildford's face was suddenly sober. 'They say that mobs of outraged people are collecting in Smithfield Square. They plan to invade the Tower and give my dear usurping wife her just punishment. This whole country may turn against us. My father has sent his cousin, Henry, to France to bribe the French King with the return of Calais in exchange for troops, so perhaps we're not entirely without hope.'
'What an excellent idea,' Suffolk said.
'Not really.' Guildford laughed bitterly. 'Merely a
last fling. But it may tempt King Henry, even if it isn't a good idea to let him know how desperate we are.'
'Has Your Majesty any suggestions?' Cranmer asked, turning to the little Queen.
'I agree with my Lord Guildford that we shall need the support of the men who remain,' she said. 'Whether or not Mary defeats the Duke of Northumberland is of little importance to me. In fact, I did not willingly snatch away her crown from her and, in all justice, she should be acknowledged as the true Queen. But you, who have made me your Queen, deserve my loyalty, despite your selfish motives. We've been together for several days now and it isn't my intention to desert you in this time of peril. But I hope that our downfall or our victory, whichever it is, will be bloodless. And now, my Lords, I'm tired and wish to go to bed.'
'I'll walk with you to your bedroom,' Guildford offered.
They made the brief journey in companionable silence. It was only when they paused outside Jane's bedroom door that Guildford spoke and, when he did, his voice was oddly gentle. 'Sweetheart, though you probably have more courage than any of us, I know how frightened you must be, and I'm sorry that you may suffer for something that isn't your fault.' He watched her thick, dark gold lashes flickering against her clear skin and continued: 'Your opinion of me is far from complimentary, I know,*^ but I'm not the monster you think me. I never want you to be anything but entirely happy and if you learn to care for me, as I care for you, you will be happy in the security of loving and being loved.'
Gazing up at his handsome, earnest face, Jane was moved. Why couldn't he always be like this?
'There can be little happiness for us together,' she replied. 'For we're too unalike, and our interests are poles apart. When you are gentle and reasonable, my heart warms to you, but your moods change without warning and your aggressiveness freezes my very soul.'
'We can try to improve the situation,' pleaded her husband, looking very young.
'Yes,' Jane agreed. 'We can try.'
'Then you'll agree to consummate our marriage?'
Jane nodded, partly eager, partly reluctant. Jane's morals were straightforward. To her, sex was the expression of the love one felt within and not an outlet to lust or a burden one endured because it was one's duty. But tonight, Guildford was very attractive and she was, in a peculiar way of which she was not fully conscious, attached to him, although that attachment was scarcely strong enough to be called love.
A crown in darkness : a novel about Lady Jane Grey Page 22
