The Complete Tudors: Nine Historical Novels

by Jean Plaidy

  “Elizabeth…my beautiful Elizabeth….”

  She eluded him and ran from him; she paused to look back, artful and alluring, urging him on, yet forbidding him to come.

  She was aware of the Palace windows. Much as she would have enjoyed a flirtation with this man, who fascinated her more than any person ever had, she did not wish to endanger her new position at court.

  If Seymour had his dreams and ambitions, the Lady Elizabeth had hers no less. Indeed, they soared higher even than those of Seymour; and if they were more glorious, they were more dangerous.

  He would have followed her, but she had suddenly become haughty.

  “I wish to be alone,” she said coldly, and she walked from the garden, forcing herself to conquer her desire to stay with him, to invite his warm glances and perhaps the caresses which he longed to give and she would not have been averse to receiving.

  Coquettish as she was, she longed for admiration. Flirtation was an amusing pastime, yet beyond the love of light pleasures was her abiding ambition.

  As he watched her, Seymour had no doubt that she was the woman for him.

  NAN CREPT SILENTLY out of the Palace of Greenwich. She was covered from head to foot in a dark cloak, under which she wore many thick petticoats which she would not be wearing when, and if, she were fortunate enough to return to the Palace that night.

  It was not the first time she had made this journey, carrying food and warm clothing with her, but each time she made it she was filled with fears, for it was a dangerous journey.

  Lady Herbert had said to her: “If you should be detained, on no account must it be known who sent you.”

  “No, my lady.”

  “And Nan…be strong…and brave.”

  They both knew that if she were caught she would be recognized as a lady from the Queen’s household. But on no account, Nan assured herself, would she let them know that the Queen had played a part in this mission.

  “God help me to be brave” was Nan’s continual prayer.

  The faint light of a waning moon shone on the river, and in the shadow cast by the bushes she made out the barge which was waiting for her.

  The boatman greeted her in that manner which had been arranged. “Hello, there! Come you from my lady?”

  “Yes,” whispered Nan. “From my lady.”

  She stepped into the boat which began to slip along only too slowly. Nan listened to the sound of the oars and continued to pray for courage.

  The boatman sang softly to himself as he rowed. Not that he felt like singing. He must be almost as nervous as Nan; but he, like her, must wear an air of calm, for it must not be suspected that she came from the Queen, and that she was on her way to visit one who must surely be the most important prisoner in the Tower.

  “Are you ready?” whispered the boatman at length.

  “I am ready.”

  She scrambled out on to the slippery bank; it seemed very cold under the shadow of the gray walls which loomed before her.

  A man was waiting for her and she followed him without a word. He unlocked a door; Nan shivered as she stepped inside the great fortress of the Tower of London. This man held his lantern high, and she saw the damp walls and the pits at the bottom of which was the muddy water of the river; rats scuttled under her feet. She did not cry out, great as was the temptation to do so.

  “Hurry,” whispered the man with the lantern. “You must be gone before the guard comes this way.”

  He unlocked a door, and Nan stepped into the cell.

  In spite of the intense cold, the closeness of the atmosphere, the smell of dirt and decay, sickened her. It was some seconds before her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness, for the man with the lantern had shut and locked the door; in a short while he would return; she would hear the key in the lock and he would let her out.

  She could vaguely see the shape on the straw.

  “Mistress Askew?” she whispered.

  “Nan! Is it you?”

  “Yes, Mistress. I have brought food and clothes. You are bidden to be of good cheer.”

  “You are a good and brave woman to come to me thus,” said Anne. “Have you a message for me?”

  “Only that all that can be done for you will be done.”

  “Thank you.”

  Nan could see the emaciated face; it looked ghostly in the dimness of the cell.

  “Take a message for me,” said Anne. “Tell those who sent you that they should not endanger themselves by sending food and clothing for me. I can face hunger; I can face cold and discomfort.”

  “It is our delight to help you, to let you know that although you are a prisoner and others are free, they do not forget you.”

  “I thank them,” said Anne, and in spite of her brave words, she fell upon the food which Nan had brought, and ate it ravenously. Nan was taking off the petticoats as she talked, and Anne went on eating as she put them on.

  Anne’s hands were icy and her teeth chattered. There was hardly any flesh on her bones to keep her warm.

  Ah, thought Nan, it is an easy matter to wish to be a martyr; but how eagerly she eats and how grateful she is for a little warmth!

  Already the man was unlocking the door.

  “Hasten, Mistress,” he said. “There must be no delay. I have not seen the guard at his usual post. Hasten, I say. If we are followed, remember, I know nothing of you and how you came here.”

  “I will remember,” said Nan.

  Hastily he locked the door of the cell, and Nan picked her way through the dark passages, trying not to brush against the slimy walls, praying that she might not step on the rats.

  She felt exhausted when she lay, at length, in the boat, listening to the sound of the oars as she was carried away from the grim fortress of the Tower of London back to Greenwich.

  THE MAN WITH THE lantern reentered the Tower and had scarcely taken three steps inside the building when two men took their stand on either side of him.

  “Where go you, sir jailor?” asked one.

  “Where go I?” blustered the man, and he felt as though cold water were dripping down his back, although he was sweating with fear. “Where go I? To my post, of course.”

  “Who was the fair lady to whom you have just bade farewell?” enquired the other man.

  “Fair lady…? I…?”

  “You conducted her to a certain cell, did you not?”

  “You are mistaken.”

  The lantern was suddenly taken from his hand, and he was pinioned.

  “This way,” said one of his captors. “We have questions to ask you.”

  They pushed him roughly along through the gloomy passages. Terror walked with him. A short while ago the Tower had been to him merely the prison of others; now it was his prison.

  “I…I have done…nothing.”

  “Later, later,” said a soft voice in his ear. “You shall speak for yourself later.”

  They were taking him into unfamiliar byways. He could hear the fierce chorus of rats as they fought with their human victims; he could hear the piercing screams for help from those miserable prisoners who were chained to the walls and who, when they heard footsteps coming their way, shouted for help without any hope that it would be given to them. They took him past the pits in which men were chained, the dirty water up to their knees; the lantern showed him their faces, wild-eyed and unkempt, faces that had lost their human aspect, as they fought the hungry pests which could not wait for them to die.

  “Whither…whither are you taking me?”

  “Patience, friend, patience!” said the voice in his ear.

  Now he was in a chamber, and although he had never seen it before, he knew what it was. He had heard much of this chamber. The dim light from the lamp which hung from the ceiling confirmed his horrible fear.

  He smelled blood and vinegar, and he knew them for the mingling odors of the torture chambers; and when his eyes were able to see through the mist of fear, he picked out a man at a table with writing materials befo
re him. Much as he desired to, he could no longer doubt that he was in the torture chamber.

  The man at the table had risen; he came forward as though to greet the jailor in friendship. There was a smile on this man’s face, and the jailor guessed from his clothes that he was a personage of some importance. He knew that he himself had been a fool to take a bribe and get himself involved with the kind of people who would be interested in Anne Askew. A jailor was subject to bribery. You took a little here, a little there. But he wished he had never meddled in the case of Anne Askew.

  “You know why you are here, my friend,” said the personage.

  “Yes…yes, my lord. But I have done nothing.”

  “You have nothing to fear. You have only to answer a few questions.”

  God in Heaven! thought the sweating jailor. That is what they are all told. “You have merely to answer a few questions!”

  “Allow me to show you round the chamber,” said the jailor’s host. “You see here the gauntlets, the thumbscrews, the Spanish collar…the Scavenger’s Daughter. You, who serve the King as one of his jailors, know the uses to which these toys may be put, I doubt not.”

  “I do, my lord. But I have done nothing.”

  “And here is the rack. The most interesting of them all. My friend, a man is a fool who lets his limbs be stretched on that instrument. There is no need for it. No wise man need let his limbs be broken on the rack. You look pale. Are you going to faint? They deal well with fainting here. The vinegar is a quick restorative…so they tell me.”

  “What…what do you want of me?”

  The man gripped his arm.

  “Answer my questions and go back to your work. That is all I ask of you. Give me truth and I’ll give you freedom.”

  “I will tell you anything you want to know.”

  “That is well. I knew you were a sensible man. Sit here…here on this stool. Now…have you recovered? Let us be quick; and the quicker the better, say you; for when you have given the simple answers to these questions you will go back to your work and never, I trust, enter this place again.”

  “Ask me,” pleaded the jailor. “Ask me now.”

  “You are ready?”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Did you conduct a woman to a prisoner this day?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That was not one of your duties, I feel sure.”

  “No, no….” The words tumbled out. He could not speak quickly enough. “I took a bribe. It was wrong. I repent of it. I should not have done it.”

  “But it was such a big bribe?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “From a person of quality, doubtless. And the name of the prisoner whose cell was visited? Do not try to deceive me, because then I should have to use these toys to make you tell the truth.”

  “I will not. I swear I will not. The prisoner was a Mistress Anne Askew.”

  “That is good. You are doing well. I can see we shall not have to play with those toys tonight.”

  “Who was the woman you took to Anne Askew?”

  “A lady…whose name I know not.”

  “Whose name you know not? Have a care.”

  “I swear I know not her name. She came with food and clothes for the prisoner. I know whence she came, though I know not her name. It was never told me.”

  “So you know whence she came?”

  “Yes, I know. She came from the heretic friends of Anne Askew.”

  “The names of these friends?”

  “They told me no names.”

  “You are not being very helpful. I must have names.”

  “They are ladies of the court.”

  “Cannot you give me names…even of some of them?”

  He had signed to two men with evil faces; they came forward.

  “Not one name?” said the interrogator.

  “I do not know who sent them. I was told by a man who brought her…I know…”

  “You know?”

  “Yes, my lord. I know the woman who comes is a messenger from the Queen.”

  “The Queen! Ah, that is good. You have been useful. Let him go. Let him go back to his work. Not a word, my friend, of tonight’s adventure, or…”

  “I swear I’ll say nothing. I swear…”

  “You will be watched. Just go on as before. Take your bribe. Let the lady in. Your little journey to our chamber, your inspection of our toys makes no difference. Go, my good man. You have answered well and faithfully.”

  The jailor’s response was to fall into a faint on the earthen floor.

  Wriothesley watched him with a smile. He liked the man. He had given the answer he most wished to hear.

  WHEN NAN REACHED the Palace of Greenwich she went straight to the apartments of Lady Herbert as was her custom. The Queen’s sister had spent the time of her absence alternately on her knees praying for Nan’s safety, and at the window watching for her return.

  “Nan,” said Lady Herbert, “how went it?”

  “Much as before, my lady.”

  “Methinks you are returned a little earlier.”

  “Yes, my lady. I had scarcely time to take off all the clothing I had brought when the jailor urged me to leave the cell.”

  “Why was that?” demanded Lady Herbert, her face growing pale.

  “It was merely, he said, that he had not seen the guard in his usual place.”

  Lady Herbert’s fingers played nervously with the jewels at her throat.

  “This cannot go on. They suspect something.”

  Nan threw herself on to her knees. When she had been in the company of Anne Askew she seemed infected by her fanaticism, her desire for martyrdom.

  “My lady, I am ready to die, if need be, in the cause of the Queen and the Queen’s faith.”

  Lady Herbert began to walk up and down the apartment.

  “Oh, Nan, if only it were as simple as that! If death were swift and painless, how easy it would be! What else, Nan? How was she?”

  “As strong as before in spirit, but very frail in body.”

  “Nan, you must not go there again.”

  “If the Queen commands me, I should go. There are times, my lady, when I almost feel a desire to be caught…though I know I should all but die of fright. There is something about that place, something that wraps itself about one. It is utter desolation, hopeless…and yet there is a kind of welcome.”

  Lady Herbert took the young woman by her shoulders and gently shook her.

  “Nan, Nan, do not talk so. You speak as one who is ready to embrace death.”

  “Willingly would I do so, if the Queen commanded,” said Nan. “If they caught me, none should draw the secret from me. They could put me on the rack…”

  “Hush, you foolish woman!” cried Lady Herbert almost angrily. “You know not what you say. Stronger than you have been broken in the torture chambers of the Tower.”

  “They would not torture me…a woman. They do not torture women. I should be sent to the stake, and because I am a woman they would strangle me so that I should not feel the scorching of the flesh.”

  Lady Herbert recognized the signs of hysteria. The strain was too much for any but a fanatic like Anne Askew. They must give up these dangerous visits. She must make the Queen see that they dared not continue with them.

  “Go to your room,” she said. “I will send you a soothing draught. Drink it and draw your bedcurtains; then…sleep…sleep until you awake refreshed.”

  Nan curtsied and went to her room.

  And when she awoke from the soothing sleep, the lightheadedness had passed. She was herself once more. She could think of her experience with nothing but horror, and instead of seeing death beautified by martyrdom, she saw it evil and horrible, as the cold unhappy Tower had told her it must be.

  IN THE QUEEN’S closet Lady Herbert shut the door and leaned against it.

  “I am afraid,” she said.

  “Why so?” asked the Queen.

  “Our father and mother would never ha
ve dreamed that you would one day be Queen of England.”

  “But the Queen of England must be braver than any lady in the land.”

  “She must also be wiser. Oh, Kate, Anne Askew looks for martyrdom, but she is armed with her faith and her courage. You know that she has always been different from the rest of us.”

  “Yes, even as a girl she was different. How remote she was from us! Oh, sister, what will they do to her? They have taken her because they wish, through her, to take me, and…we know why.”

  “Yes, we know. It is you they wish to have in prison. They will try to make her admit that you too are in possession of the forbidden books, and that you have offended against the King’s laws.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I know not.”

  “Do you not?” Katharine laughed bitterly. “Everything depends on His Majesty. If he wishes to see me condemned as a heretic, then condemned I shall be.” Her laughter grew wild. “It makes me laugh. I cannot help it. Everything depends on his state of health. If he is sick, I am safe for a while. But if he grows well…Oh Anne, is it not comic? I have watched his glances. The Duchess of Richmond is a comely lady. And so is Her Grace of Suffolk. Different types—and he cannot make up his mind which he prefers: the widow of his son, or the widow of Charles Brandon. Both widows, you see! I believe I have given him a taste for widows. And none but a widow would dare return the King’s loving glances. Sister, my life hangs by a thread; and who is holding that thread? His Majesty. And how he jerks it, depends on the Duchesses of Richmond and Suffolk…and the state of his health!”

  “You must not laugh like this. It frightens me. You must be calm. You must be serene. Your smallest action is of the utmost importance.”

  “Oh, sister, what will they do to poor Anne Askew?”

  “They dare do nothing. They cannot torture a woman…a high-born woman. The King would not allow it.”

  The Queen looked at her sister and broke into fresh laughter, and the Lady Anne Herbert had great difficulty in soothing her.

  THE BISHOP AND THE CHANCELLOR walked once more in the Great Park.

  “What news, my lord Chancellor?” asked Gardiner.

  “My lord Bishop, good news. I had the jailor taken as soon as he left the court woman. He admitted in the torture room that the clothes and food which the prisoner has been receiving were sent at the Queen’s command.”