The Queen In Waiting: Mary Tudor takes the throne (The Tudor Saga Series Book 5)

by David Field

  ‘You perform duty as Surveyor of Estates to my sister Elizabeth, do you not?’ Mary asked in a tone of voice that made such an office sound vaguely disreputable.

  ‘Among my other duties, yes, Your Majesty.’

  ‘You must share my disappointment at her demonstrated treachery,’ Mary challenged him and he replied instinctively, before his face had time to reflect his outrage at the mere suggestion.

  ‘Of what treachery does Your Majesty speak?’

  ‘Her treachery to me, of course. Can there be any other form of treachery?’

  ‘I enquired, rather, what form this treachery has taken, Your Majesty.’

  ‘I can only assume that either you have taken up residence in a monastery of late, or that those spaniels’ ears that hang from your cap are so heavily padded that you have lost the gift of hearing,’ Mary replied starchily. ‘It is the commonest gossip of the Court that she was privy to the Wyatt uprising and gave her support to the involvement in it of Edward Courtenay, whom she encouraged with promises of reward in the bedchamber.’

  ‘I have made it a constant policy of mine never to pay heed to Court gossip, Your Majesty,’ Cecil replied coldly as he concealed his shock at the allegation.

  ‘I have seen the proof thereof,’ Mary insisted. ‘A letter from Courtenay to my sister, found within her jewel case.’

  ‘Found when, precisely?’ Cecil asked suspiciously.

  Mary frowned. ‘When she was taken from Hatfield for conveyance, on my order, to Whitehall. Or at least, so my lord of Norfolk advises me.’

  ‘One might be tempted to enquire as to the reliability of the information given to Thomas Howard,’ Cecil suggested as he heaved an inner sigh of relief. If Norfolk was the source of the information, then it was likely that there was no truth in it.

  ‘There was also a letter from the French Ambassador to Paris, in which he advised his King that Elizabeth had given her blessing to the blockading of the Channel by French ships, in order to prevent my fiancé Philip of Spain coming to my aid once the uprising began.’

  ‘Again and with respect, Your Majesty, I am bound to observe that without proof that the Lady Elizabeth either authorised that letter to be sent, or at least knew of its existence and did nought to prevent it being sent, then it was open to the French Ambassador to write whatever he wished. He might equally have written that Your Majesty was in favour, in order to speed the arrival of Spain on our shores.’

  ‘Do not be impertinent, Cecil!’ Mary snapped as the colour rose in her face.

  He opted for another approach. ‘Forgive me, Majesty, I meant no impertinence. I meant merely, in Your Majesty’s best interests, to point out the inherent weakness of the evidence against your sister, who I have ever known to have the highest love and regard for you and who can have no wish to become Queen at the tender age of twenty-one.’

  Mary’s chin rose in a gesture of defiance. ‘If you can find proof that the letter from Courtenay was not in Elizabeth’s possession, Cecil, then I might begin to reconsider the question of my sister’s loyalty. But there is also another matter brought to my attention by my Lord of Norfolk — namely that she has been seen conversing with and kissing, Robert Dudley, one of the sons of Northumberland implicated in the treason of his father and Jane Grey.’

  Cecil smiled, thought carefully, but decided to say it anyway. ‘If it has become possible to converse with and indeed, kiss, one’s fellow prisoners in the Tower, then I can only advise that immediate steps be taken to improve upon its security. The Lieutenant must have condoned such activities, and who could blame two abandoned and lonely souls, who were once such good friends and close companions, for renewing their association when permitted to do so? What you describe speaks more against the Lieutenant of the Tower than it does against your sister.’

  ‘Enough of this wordplay, Cecil,’ Mary announced grumpily as she received an observation not to her liking. ‘I have summoned you here to give you further orders regarding the discharge of your duties.’

  ‘You need only command, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Indeed, Cecil. And I command that you ride to Hatfield without delay and conduct a thorough inventory of everything that remains in there. Every piece of furnishing, every pot, pan, mug, goblet, platter, knife, spoon, bed sheet and bolster.’

  ‘It shall be done, Majesty, but if I might enquire why?’

  ‘It is likely that my sister will not be returning to Hatfield, at least not in this life. Should she choose to haunt it in her afterlife, that will be a matter for her, but she is unlikely to be leaving the Tower unless it is in several pieces, if you understand my meaning?’

  ‘Indeed I do, Majesty,’ Cecil confirmed as a cold shudder ran through him. ‘I shall depart immediately.’

  ‘We have not yet concluded this audience,’ Mary insisted.

  Cecil halted in the middle of his intended bow. ‘Majesty?’

  ‘In addition to travelling to Hatfield, I require you to journey further north, into Leicestershire. You will perhaps have learned, unless you were indeed in holy orders at the time, that in his unwisdom Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk, gave his support to the rebellion by Wyatt, for which he recently paid with his life. His widow remains on his estate of Bradgate and she is my cousin Frances, the daughter of my Aunt Mary who was the sister of the late King Henry my father. I shall no doubt be prevailed upon by my Council to forfeit the estate, given that their daughter was the traitor Jane Grey, but out of the love that I bear Frances, who was not privy to what her verminous husband got himself involved in, I wish you to survey the estate so that I might be able to portion some of it off for the future maintenance of the widow, while forfeiting the main part, since I must be seen to come down hard on traitors. You will undertake that commission?’

  ‘Willingly, Your Majesty.’

  ‘Good. And while you are in that county, I wish you to locate an estate known, to the best of my recollection, as “Knighton”. It was once the site of a convent endowed by my late mother and I met only recently with a woman claiming to be the former Mother Superior of that convent, whose holy activities were allowed to continue, despite Master Cromwell, due to the Christian charity of the lord of that estate. I believe his name to be “Ashton” and his daughter Grace was lady-in-waiting to the usurper Jane Grey. I released Grace Ashton from the Tower on the pleading of this former Mother Superior and I wish to reassure myself that I was not deceived.’

  ‘It is a pleasure to be entrusted with so many delicate matters all at the same time,’ Cecil murmured as he bowed the head and hoped that he could remember it all.

  ‘Then you will be anxious to discharge them without delay, will you not, and prove your loyalty to me?’

  ‘Indeed, Your Majesty,’ Cecil reassured her as he bowed from the presence, relieved to have said nothing to make that loyalty suspect.

  ‘My cousin is most generous,’ Frances Grey murmured as she looked down at the table between Cecil and herself, fighting back the tears. ‘Do you think it strange that I say that of the woman who ordered the execution of both my husband and my daughter?’

  Cecil did his best to conceal his surprise as he replied reassuringly, ‘These are difficult days for us all, as Her Majesty settles into her first year as Queen and eagerly awaits the arrival of a husband from Spain.’

  ‘I had thought in terms of returning to London,’ Frances told him. ‘The estate here at Bradgate was always where Henry wanted to live and bring up our children. For myself I always favoured our London house and since my second daughter Katherine is now married to Pembroke’s heir and living at Baynard’s Castle, I would rather be closer to her, along with my sole remaining unmarried daughter Mary, who may perhaps by this process acquire a husband of her own, although she is not very comely.’

  ‘The Queen has asked that I portion off part of the estate for your future maintenance, as I said,’ Cecil reminded her. ‘If I hear you aright, will it be sufficient for your needs simply to find a tenant for the alienated
portion, so that you may enjoy the income therefrom while you reside in London?’

  ‘Indeed, that would be most fitting,’ Frances nodded, ‘and I thank both you and Her Majesty for your kindness to a widow in her middle years. Is it your intention to abide here overnight? If so, then I must alert the cook. Only you made mention of other matters that require your attention.’

  ‘Indeed, madam,’ Cecil replied. ‘I am commissioned to journey to a neighbouring estate called “Knighton” and there enquire regarding the fortunes of a family called “Ashton”. It would seem that Her Majesty is obliged to the lord of the estate for his kindness towards a former religious house that was within the boundaries of that estate.’

  ‘For all the good that kindness did him,’ Frances grimaced slightly. ‘Sir Richard Ashton took to the field with my late husband in the ill-fated Wyatt uprising, which was intended to secure the release of our daughter Jane from the Tower. Instead it led to her execution, along with her husband, Dudley’s son Guildford. Sir Richard was captured and then killed when he sought to escape.’

  ‘The Lady Elizabeth mourns Jane’s passing,’ Cecil told her quietly as he saw the first indication of a tear forming in Frances’s eye.

  Frances seemed to regain her composure. ‘Richard Ashton had a daughter called Grace, who was our dear Jane’s constant companion as they grew up as children, forever larking around here at Bradgate. When Jane briefly became Queen, Grace was her senior lady-in-waiting and only escaped the block herself because of the timely intervention of their former nanny, who pleaded with Queen Mary for her life.’

  ‘She must have been a powerful advocate indeed, to have so swayed Her Majesty,’ Cecil observed in a respectful tone.

  Frances nodded. ‘She only succeeded because of her former life as the head of a convent that Queen Mary’s mother Katherine founded on the land that became the estate of Knighton. Grace’s father Richard allowed the holy sisters to continue their good work, in defiance of his then master, Thomas Cromwell and the lady in question — the former Mother Superior, Mary Calthorpe — became nanny and governess to both girls. It was she who persuaded Mary to release Grace, who was innocent of any treasonous actions, God bless the girl. She was motivated solely by love for my own beloved Jane.’

  Sensing more tears on the way, Cecil pressed on with his questions. ‘And this girl — Grace — still resides at Knighton?’

  ‘No longer,’ Frances replied. ‘She married one of Dudley’s squires, Allan Bestwick, and went to live with him somewhere around Nottingham, where his father conducts his trade as a farrier. That was some weeks ago now and her mother — Sir Richard’s widow Katherine — travelled there for the wedding, along with her other child, a son called Thomas, who must now be nearing manhood. I have not had word of their return, so you may still find them all there. If you are intending to visit Knighton, the Steward will tell you precisely where to find them all.’

  Three days later Cecil’s horse stumbled slightly as it scrabbled over the loose stones on the north bank of the Wilden ford through the Trent. As he turned east, heading for the village of Attenborough, where he had been reliably informed by estate workers at Knighton that he would find the remaining members of the Ashton family, the horse was limping and the limp got worse the further he travelled. In the belief that one of its shoes had somehow become dislodged by the stones during the river crossing, he dismounted in order to reduce the weight on its back.

  Two hours later he entered the village of Attenborough from the south, leading his horse by its bridle along a well-worn path through the reeds and other plants that lined the north bank of the river that he had been following, as instructed. At least once there, he reasoned, he could have someone see to his horse.

  Once inside the tiny village it was easy to locate the smithy and farrier’s shop from the noise of hammering that seemed to echo all around the sleepy hamlet of eight or so dwellings, with a larger house still in the process of construction. As he led his horse down the dusty lane towards the noise a young man jumped down from a tree, causing the horse to leap back in fright.

  The young man grinned. ‘Not only is your horse lame, it’s also skittish,’ he announced and Cecil looked him up and down disapprovingly. He appeared to be in his mid-teens, with a mop of light brown hair that was in much need of a barber, dressed more like the young squire of a fighting man than a resident of a lowly Nottinghamshire village.

  ‘I’m Thomas,’ he announced eagerly and Cecil was forced to smile despite himself.

  ‘Well, Thomas,’ he replied, ‘would I be correct in surmising that in the place from whence that noise of hammering is issuing I will find a man who can shoe my horse?’

  ‘You will,’ Thomas replied, ‘for all the good it will do you. Your horse is not unshod — as I already advised you, it’s lame.’

  ‘And your qualification for knowing this?’ Cecil asked indulgently.

  Thomas moved forward so that he was alongside the horse’s front right leg, then ducked down to lift it slightly from the dust of the lane. He ran his hand up from its hoof, then pressed his thumb into a place two inches above it, causing the horse to whinny and rear in protest as Cecil clung to its bridle.

  ‘See, there,’ Thomas announced triumphantly. ‘It has a bruised fetlock.’

  ‘And you will have a bruised ear, if you mishandle it further,’ Cecil responded testily. ‘Now, be so good as to tell me where I will find a Mistress Grace Ashton.’

  ‘You won’t,’ Thomas said, grinning. ‘You will, however, find a Mistress Grace Bestwick, who was once the said Grace Ashton before she married Allan Bestwick and became a farrier’s wife. I’m her brother Thomas, and one day I’ll be a knight of the realm.’

  ‘You may come to regret that ambition,’ Cecil said. ‘For the time being, in your capacity as my guide, pray lead me to your sister, because I come from the Queen.’

  Thomas’s face changed instantly from an expression of friendly mischief to one of deep suspicion. ‘You come to arrest her? If so, you will need to take on this entire village.’

  ‘Why would I come alone, if my purpose was to conduct an arrest?’ Cecil reasoned with him. ‘I would be accompanied by armed men, would I not?’

  ‘Not if you were as sneaky as I,’ Thomas replied guardedly. ‘In your position, I would remain for long enough to satisfy myself that she might be found here, then come back with soldiers.’

  ‘Since you seem to regard yourself as your sister’s champion,’ Cecil said, ‘perhaps you would advise her that William Cecil wishes to speak with her and that I am the Surveyor of Estates to the Lady Elizabeth. The Queen merely wishes me to report on your sister’s welfare, since she kindly remembers a woman from the Ashton estate who was once the head of a convent, then became your sister’s nanny and governess.’

  ‘Mine also,’ Thomas revealed. ‘You mean Mary Calthorpe, who’s here with us, but who is not long for this life, I’m told.’

  They had reached the farrier’s workshop, set back slightly from the lane and with a sizeable two-storied house alongside it, seemingly the only one of its type in the street apart from the partly completed one that sat next to it. The farrier put down his hammer and glared as he took in Cecil’s rich, if dusty, clothing.

  ‘What can I do fer yer?’ the man asked gruffly.

  Cecil smiled. ‘My horse has been limping ever since I crossed the river to the west of here, and I first thought it to be a cast shoe or something. But this young man assures me that the beast is lame and I have reason to believe that he may be correct.’

  ‘Right front fetlock,’ Thomas chimed in with a knowing grin and the man walked across, wiping sweat from his eyes and furnace dust from his cheek. He bent down and examined the fetlock, then nodded.

  ‘It’s badly bruised, right enough. Yer’d be best ter rest it fer a couple o’ days.’

  ‘It so happens that I have business here anyway,’ Cecil told him, ‘so is there by any happy chance an inn in this village?’


  The man smirked. ‘The nearest inn ter ’ere’s in Chilwell, further east along this ’ere lane what yer come in along. But I don’t recommend it, unless yer want yer purse cut or yer throat slit.’ He walked back towards the anvil and picked up the hammer menacingly. ‘What’s yer business ’ere?’

  ‘Father!’ came an urgent voice from the front garden of the house next to the forge and a tall young man with an upright military bearing stepped between them and looked Cecil up and down.

  ‘A Courtier, by the looks of you. Are you sure you’re not here for me?’

  ‘That rather depends upon who you might be,’ Cecil replied calmly as from the corner of his eye he saw the hammer being replaced on the anvil.

  ‘I’m Allan Bestwick,’ the young man replied, ‘and the man who was all set to flatten your skull is my father.’

  ‘I’ve heard of you,’ Cecil confirmed. ‘Did you not once serve John Dudley, Duke of Northumberland, as a squire?’

  ‘You’re well informed,’ Allan replied grudgingly. ‘Did they also tell you what I did next?’

  ‘They?’

  ‘The Lieutenant of the Tower, or maybe even the new Queen,’ Allan muttered with some reluctance.

  ‘I’m not here on the instruction of the Lieutenant,’ Cecil assured him, ‘but I have certainly been asked by Her Majesty to enquire after the welfare of Mistress Calthorpe and Mistress Ashton, as she once was. Why should the Lieutenant be interested in you?’

  ‘I deserted his service some weeks ago,’ Allan told him defiantly, ‘after my wife Grace was released from the Tower by Queen Mary. I’d been guarding her and the Lady Jane, before she was executed, but then I ran off so that we could get married here, which is my home. My apologies for my father’s rudeness just now, but we live in daily fear of my recapture.’

  ‘You may rest assured that I come here on more pleasant business,’ Cecil said. ‘I have just journeyed from Bradgate, where the Queen wished to learn of the welfare of her cousin Lady Frances Grey. She also asked me to seek reassurance that she had not been duped by this Mistress Calthorpe that I keep hearing about, and that your wife’s father had indeed allowed a convent to continue on his estate, long after Cromwell ordered it closed.’