“What is this? Lady Margaret?” said the king, not unkindly.
Madge did not look up but spoke with the same courage she had seen in the queen.
“I beseech Your Majesty to grant me an audience. I beg as your humble and obedient servant who prays for your health every night. I beg as one who has enjoyed your royal presence and one who has sought nothing but to serve Your Grace,” said Madge.
“Arise, Margaret—let us go into my barge where I can sit down—my leg aches and I am weary,” said the king. Madge followed him back into the barge, remembering how regally it was appointed. The king sank down upon a large pillow and sampled one of the small tarts laid out for him. Madge knelt at his feet.
“Oh great and merciful king, I come to testify for the queen, your good wife. I would beg you to pardon the queen. I have been with her these many months, night and day, as thou dost know well. She is innocent of the crimes Master Cromwell has found against her. She has never known another and I believe you know in your heart that this be true. You, who are the fount of all justice in this land, I beg you, have mercy,” said Madge, keeping her head down, but her voice full and strong.
“You are either very brave or very foolish to appear before me, Pretty Madge. I could have you arrested on the spot as her accomplice, the one who procured for her,” said the king.
Madge trembled but she did not stop.
“You could do so if you desired, but such a deceit would disturb your conscience because you know such a thing is not true,” said Madge. “And I know you to be a good and wise king who obeys a tender conscience.”
“Stand up, mistress. Look at me,” said the king, helping her rise by taking her elbow. “You are a lovely creature still, Lady Shelton. I believe I granted your last request—you wished to have your contract to Norris rendered null and void. I have done so,” said the king, smiling.
“I cannot thank you for your favor—I would not have wished even Norris thrown in the Tower,” said Madge, her voice growing angry.
“You like me not, mistress. I see it in your eyes,” said the king, studying her. She noticed how fleshy his face and figure had become and how wrinkled his face. He was an old man. “I will not honor your request—the queen must die and that is that.”
“If you will not grant her pardon, then please allow me to go to her in the Tower. She has need of those who love her. I beg of you, if there was ever any tenderness in your heart for me, allow me to go to the queen in her hour of need,” said Madge, locking eyes with the king, hating him with every cell in her body.
“Guards! You heard the lady—take her to the Tower at once! I am, as you say, wise and merciful,” said the king as he motioned for two of the guards to lay hands on Madge. The others began to push the barge from the shore. The king looked out to the river, but then turned again to Madge. “By the way, your mother is also with the queen—I sought to surround her by her kinswomen so they could comfort her. May you bring her what solace you can,” said the king.
Madge did not respond but gave the king the foulest look she could muster. He then turned his back to her once more and sailed away. She let out a deep sigh and realized she had not breathed while she had been in his presence.
“Come along, mistress. To the Tower you go,” said the tall guard on her right. Both men held her by the upper arm and fairly carried her from the king’s barge to a small wherry. “Get in, mistress. You shall follow your queen all right. Straight to the Tower.”
Madge suddenly was filled with fear. Did the king intend to send her to her death, along with the queen? Had he remembered his many failures in her bed? Did he wish to remove such a reminder of his own mortality from his sight? Her legs began to shake and she felt very hot. A strong hand pushed her down upon a hard seat in the smaller barge and she watched as the boat left the shore and made its way to the Tower. She began to cry though she made not a sound. Every bone buzzed with terror.
* * *
The trip down the Thames took little time and soon Madge saw the outline of the Tower against the night sky. The building looked ominous and very, very dark. When the guards rowed the barge ashore, they were met by Constable Kingston, a man of about sixty who had been taking care of prisoners for many years. It did not shake him to see a young girl brought to his jail, Madge thought.
“Who is this and why is she coming to me without warning this late?” said Constable Kingston.
“The king sent her to wait upon Her Majesty—it was her own desire, which His Majesty graciously satisfied,” said the tall guard, pushing her toward Constable Kingston.
“Well enough, but who is she?” said Kingston.
Madge drew herself to her tallest height.
“The Lady Margaret Shelton, cousin to Her Majesty, Queen Anne.”
“Come with me, Lady Margaret,” said Kingston.
The constable led her to the queen’s apartments, the same apartments where Her Majesty had been housed prior to her coronation. He tapped on the outer door and a plain-looking woman opened it.
“This is Lady Margaret Shelton here to serve the queen,” he said.
At those words, Madge sighed, realizing, finally, that she was not under arrest but was, indeed, here because she had requested to be with the queen. The king played no treachery this time.
“Come in, Lady Shelton,” said the woman who introduced herself as Lady Lee, Margaret Wyatt, sister of the poet.
“You are well-met, Lady Lee. Your brother is a dear friend of mine,” said Madge.
“Margaret? Dearest Margaret! Come in where I can see you,” said a familiar voice.
“Mother!”
Madge embraced her mother and they kissed each other on the cheek. Her mother looked worn and Madge bade her sit on one of the nearby benches. The room was not unpleasant, certainly fit for a queen. Fine tapestries hung on the stone walls and fresh rushes had been scattered on the floor. There were several stools and benches and one fine chair covered in purple velvet. A golden ewer with several matching goblets was on a small table covered with a fine carpet. Madge noticed the familiar smell of roses and cinnamon and began to cry.
“Dearest daughter—I know. We have shed enough tears to flood the Thames. But let me see you—how you have changed these three years—you are all grown and more beautiful than I could have imagined, though you were always a pretty girl,” said Lady Anne Shelton.
“I do not feel pretty nor do I believe there is any beauty left in this horrid world. I have seen enough of mankind and sin to be happy to leave this life,” said Madge.
“Do not speak so. You are yet young. Though these are dark days, you have much ahead that will bring you joy!” said Lady Shelton.
“Where is Father? Is he safe?” said Madge.
“He is with dear little Elizabeth. When we discovered what was happening, we feared the henchmen would come for us, too. But no one arrived until yesterday when the king’s men knocked on the door of Hatfield and commanded me to attend the queen in the Tower,” said Lady Shelton. “Your father stayed on at Hatfield to care for Elizabeth and make certain no harm comes to her. And I was escorted here.”
“How does the queen?” said Madge.
“Not well. She collapsed when she first arrived and asked Constable Kingston if she was going to the dungeon. When he told her she would be staying where she was lodged for her coronation, she cried and said it was too good for her. Then she laughed hysterically and said, ‘I was received with greater ceremony the last time I was here.’ And so it has been—laughter and tears, tears and laughter. The first thing she did when she arrived at her rooms was to ask for the Sacrament to be brought to her so she could meditate on it day and night. That is what she is doing now,” said Lady Shelton.
“I will let Her Majesty know I am here in case she has need of me,” said Madge.
She tapped gently on the door to the queen’s bedchamber.
“Enter,” said the queen.
Madge walked into the tiny room and ran to the
queen, who was kneeling on a pillow in front of the Sacrament.
“Margaret! Oh, the king has sent you! He is ever kind and good to me, is he not?” said the queen, rising to embrace Madge.
“Your Grace,” said Madge, hugging the queen. The two women looked at each other and embraced again. “How fares Your Majesty?”
The queen laughed hysterically, grabbing her sides as she chuckled too hard.
“Well, if they think of a name for me in the years to come, it shall be Queen Lackhead!” said the queen.
“Majesty, think not such thoughts! You may yet come through this,” said Madge.
“’Tis true. Perhaps the king wishes only to test me, to see if I can love him even after such a horrid move on his part. That must be it, surely,” said the queen.
“I know not how the king’s mind works but let us keep cheer in our hearts. There is always hope,” said Madge.
“Ah, hope. I fear there is none where this king is concerned. He has given me you and your mother and dear Margaret Wyatt. But he has also sent snakes into bed with me—the horrible Lady Kingston and Mrs. Cosyn. They have been my enemies always and I fear what they may do—poison my food perhaps?” said the queen.
“Come, let us join the others in the front room. It is too gloomy in here,” said Madge.
“I suppose I should at least play the good hostess, eh? ’Tis my party, after all,” said the queen.
As the two women entered the outer room, Constable Kingston knocked on the door, opened it, and brought in a great dinner for the ladies. The queen thanked him and then ate heartily, talking the whole time.
“Kingston, know you why I am here?” the queen said.
“Do you not remember the charges against you, madame? You are accused of adultery with many men—they have added yet another this day and Sir Norris has confessed his guilt,” said Kingston.
“Norris? Dost thou accuse me, too? I can say no more than nay, without I should open my body,” said the queen and with a dramatic gesture, she pulled open the overskirt of her gown.
“Majesty, do not forget yourself,” said Madge.
Suddenly, the queen fell to her knees and began to weep. “Oh my mother, thou wilt die of sorrow,” she said. “And what of Elizabeth? What of my baby?”
After Kingston left them, the queen continued her talk, wondering who else might accuse her and on what evidence these charges were based. She told of her conversation with Norris where she accused him of wanting to fill the king’s shoes and she blathered about Master Smeaton, how she only meant to comfort him when she spoke kindly to him. On and on she prated, giving Lady Kingston much to report to her husband.
“Your Majesty, you must stop this at once! You are giving them tools to use against you! Get yourself in hand, please,” whispered Madge in the queen’s ear as she lay prostrate on the floor. At that, the queen turned her wild, red-rimmed eyes on Madge and told her to ask Constable Kingston for a sleeping draught. Madge complied and soon the queen slept peacefully.
* * *
For the next fortnight, the queen’s behavior remained much the same—one minute tears, the next laughter. Madge tried to console Her Majesty in every way she could think of, but the queen was beyond consolation. She spent most of her days and nights in her chamber, in prayer and supplication. As the days passed, the women learned from Constable Kingston that Wyatt and Richard Pace had also been arrested and all the accused men were lodged in the Tower. This thought seemed to comfort the queen but she worried that innocent men might die because of her. On May 12, all the gentlemen except Lord Rochford were tried and found guilty. Rochford would be tried on the fifteenth, the same day as the queen.
Madge thought the days sped by, though the hours were long and dreary. It seemed no time before Brereton, Smeaton, Norris, and Weston were executed and the queen was brought to the bell tower so she could watch them die. She stared as each of her former friends went to the block. She could hear them as each made his last speech. Norris, in what was his finest moment, declared the queen innocent of any wrong. Yet, Smeaton said he deserved his death. When the queen heard him, she said, “Oh Mark, alas, I fear thy soul will suffer punishment for thy false confession!”
When it was over and the queen returned to her chambers, Constable Kingston and Madge had to help her walk. She had lost use of her legs. Madge asked Kingston for an extra strong sleeping draught for the queen on that day, as Her Majesty had begun screaming and ranting once she arrived at her bedchamber. Though Madge tried, there was no consoling her. When Kingston brought the medicine, the queen was on her knees in prayer. She grabbed him about the legs and said, “Oh Constable Kingston, am I to die without justice?”
Kingston shook her off and said in a flat voice, “Madame, the poorest subject of the king hath justice.”
At that, the queen laughed again in that hysterical way of hers, cackling and groaning, her large brown eyes unfocused and wild-looking. Constable Kingston administered the draught himself, while Madge and her mother held the queen down. Madge was glad the draught worked quickly.
* * *
Finally, the day of the trial arrived and Madge accompanied the queen, along with the other ladies. The first thing she saw was the enormous crowd that stood on the hastily erected stands that were said to hold two thousand people. The Duke of Norfolk represented the king, assisted by Cromwell and his justices. The twenty-six peers were seated in a semicircle, with Norfolk perched on a high bench above them.
“Her own uncle,” whispered Margaret Wyatt.
“He cannot be human—he is a devil,” said Madge.
The gallery grew still as Lady Kingston and Lady Boleyn led the queen into the chamber, with Madge and the other ladies following behind. The queen made her way to a single chair set on a stage in the midst of the justices. Madge drew in a quick breath. Her Majesty looked quite small in the large rooms of the Great Hall of the Tower. She had selected a crimson gown edged in ermine and a matching French hood. Madge thought her choice inspired, as she looked as queenly as Madge had ever seen her. She moved with a somber gait as the ladies escorted her to the chair. Madge and the rest stood at the edge of the crowd. Seated, the queen took her oath to tell the truth and she listened to the charges against her. With great dignity, she answered each charge with clarity and confidence, proving herself an anointed queen with each reply. Madge could hear whispers among the onlookers that surely, she would not be found guilty, so wise and honest were her words. However, when the time came for judgment, each justice stood and said the word “Guilty.” The verdict was unanimous and Madge realized there could be no saving the queen now. At this point, the queen rose to speak once more:
“O Father, O Creator! Thou who are the way, the truth, and the life, knowest that I have not deserved this death!
“My lords, I do not say that my opinion ought to be preferred to your judgment; but if you have reasons to justify it, they must be other than those which have been produced in court, for I am wholly innocent of all the matters of which I have been accused, so that I cannot call upon God to pardon me.
“I have always been faithful to the king my lord; but perhaps I have not always shown to him such a perfect humility and reverence as his graciousness and courtesy deserved, and the honor he hath done me required. I confess that I have often had jealous fancies against him which I had not wisdom or strength enough to repress. But God knows I have not otherwise trespassed against him. Do not think I say this in the hope of prolonging my life, for He who saveth from death has taught me how to die, and will strengthen my faith.
“Think not, however, that I am so bewildered in mind that I do not care to vindicate my innocence. I knew that it would avail me little to defend it at the last moment if I had not maintained it all my life long, as much as ever queen did. Still the last words of my mouth shall justify my honor. As for my brother and the other gentlemen who are unjustly condemned, I would willingly die to save them; but as that is not the king’s pleasure, I shall acco
mpany them in death. And then afterwards, I shall live in eternal peace and joy without end, where I will pray to God for the king and for you, my lords.”
As Madge and the other ladies led the queen back to the Tower, Madge heard again much mumbling against the king. While Madge had been waiting with the queen in the Tower, the king had been sailing up the Thames at night, surrounded by a bevy of beauties, singing and parading about under cover of darkness. The queen had acquitted herself so eloquently and with such conviction that Madge heard many say they believed her completely innocent of any wrong. As they moved through the throngs of people after the verdict was given, Madge heard many comments and complaints.
“The king’s barge sails upriver every night to where the mistress Jane is housed…”
“I have heard the king makes merry with his paramour since the queen’s arrest…”
“What has happened to our Bluff Prince Hal?”
“The poor queen, back in the Tower where she was just three years ago…”
“She has been kind to us, giving alms and sewing shirts…”
“What will happen to the evangelicals now? There’ll be no good queen to protect them…”
* * *
The queen, Madge, and the others had to wait until Constable Kingston returned from the trial to learn of Lord Rochford’s fate. The constable related it eagerly to his captive audience.
“First, Norfolk called Lord Rochford into the court. Rochford appeared calm and was dressed somberly. As the accusations were read against him, he answered each in turn. His comport was dignified and persuasive. Many believed they would find him not guilty after such a defense. He spoke so well each word declared the deceit in the accounts. But then, he cooked his own goose,” said kingston.
“How so?” demanded the queen.
“All was going well. Lord Rochford even answered the accusations in a letter from his accursed wife … but then, Cromwell handed him a piece of paper and warned him not to spill the contents. The letter made mention of the king’s inability to complete the act of love—and Rochford read it aloud—’tis that which condemned him. When the justices were paged, each gave the guilty verdict. He shall die on the morrow.”
At the Mercy of the Queen: A Novel of Anne Boleyn Page 33
