London is loud with the dead and dying.
Hangings punctuate the day like the chimes of a clock. Some call to God, some cry for their mothers and some curse, but death comes to them anyway and their bodies stiffen, frosted within the hour like sweetmeats, their eyes glazed like berries.
Bodies sway in the breeze as far as I can see. A leg, an arm, a face, touching and turning in a deadly dance, their clothes fluttering like the last leaves.
I can never forget that I was almost one of them the year before last.
I have heard it all. Thomas Wyatt is in the Tower. Jane’s father is in the Tower. Jane is… I cannot even think it.
The Queen is in the chapel and I wait until she turns to leave. Then I stretch out on the floor and clutch the hem of her dress. “Forgive her, Your Grace. Her father is a vain ambitious man. She did not know what he was doing.” I look up at her. “And you, Your Grace. You are her cousin. Families do not desert each other in times of trouble.”
She looks back at me with desperate eyes. “You are still such a child, Ned. Do you not know that the most dangerous enemy is your own family? They can hate you as suddenly as they can love you.” She smiles, her eyes vacant as she looks down at me. “And the cruellest thing of all, Ned, is that Jane will not forsake her faith for love of life. You shall not see each other in the life after death.”
I open my mouth to scream. But I have to stop myself. There is no going back now. I know that. I have to ask her one last favour.
She nods, eyes brimming with tears, and walks away.
The clock strikes midnight. The twelfth day of February in the year of our Lord, 1554. It has come at last. My death day.
Beauty comes to the Tower on moonlit nights such as this. The white-washed walls shine and the moat sparkles. The moon is full, lighting up the oak scaffold. They have killed a living oak for me and its pale wood will be stained with my blood. I shudder to think that it will be spilled for all the world to see. I shudder to think that they will hold up my head and call me a traitor.
I was right. Wife. Queen. It has brought me to my knees, though not in prayer.
A visitor came to me last night.
Dear Doctor Aylmer.
He knelt before me, kissing my hands, his cheeks glistening. When he rose to his feet, I saw that his eyes had dulled as if he no longer wanted to wonder at the world. I threw myself into his arms.
“How can the Queen do this to you, Jane? How can she kill you, her own cousin?”
“How can she not do it?” I reply. “She has to protect her kingdom from fools like my father – and me. Through no fault of my own, I am her greatest threat. She has no choice and I forgive her for it. In her eyes, I am a traitor. But what hurts me most is my mother. She begs daily for my father’s life, but not for mine.” My heart lurched. “You are not a prisoner here, too?”
“No! But I am too outspoken to live under a Catholic Queen. I am going to Zurich to join Ulmis and Bullinger.”
“They forgot me,” I said.
He embraced me tightly and spoke the words that Socrates uttered just before he took poison. “I pray that the removal from this world will be a happy one. That is my prayer. So may it be.”
I touched his wet cheeks. “I have heard that one should die in silence,” I continued. “Come now, calm yourself and have strength.”
I went to my little table, pulled open the drawer and took out sheets of writing paper. “I have written everything down. One day, I may be just a sentence in a history book. I want everybody to know the truth about what has happened to me.”
He put out his hand to take them, but I shook my head. “Wait until my story ends. When it does, I shall entrust them to Mistress Ellen.”
Doctor Aylmer pulled his hood across his face and left me as quietly as he had come.
There is much to be done, for dying is a busy occupation. I write to my father first. Although I am angry, I forgive him, for he has surely brought about his own death and we do not want to quarrel about it in heaven.
I delay writing to Catherine. I cannot bear to say goodbye to her. I leave her my prayer book and I write on the blank pages at the back: I have sent you, dear sister, a book. It will teach you how to live and how to die. By losing my life, I shall find eternal happiness. We shall meet in heaven when it pleases God to call you.
There are no words I can find for my mother.
And for dear Ned? A lock of hair.
My last dawn. On frosty mornings like this I used to walk in the forest to find Ned. My only regret is that I shall not die in its cool and green.
A sickly stench fills the air. Bodies have been cut down and boiled, leaving space for those about to die. London is laden with bodies.
The chapel bell tolls at mid-morning and grey clouds line the sky as Guildford goes to the block. I do not see him die but soon a cart rattles under my window and I glimpse his body wrapped in blood-soaked blue, his head placed next to him. Ravens crowd the edge of the cart.
Oh Guildford, the bitterness of death! Will they wipe the axe before they kill me or will our blood mingle in death?
The raven never leaves my window. “Do not attack the axeman,” I tell him. “I want to die with dignity. Stay with me until they take me away for burial. Then you will be free to go.”
Black velvet dress, black cap, black gloves. We are two black beauties, the raven and I. One who will live and one who will die.
Ellie bustles around the chamber folding and tidying, although there are other servants who can do this – until she is forced to stop because there is nothing left to do, until she is forced to face me.
“I am ready to die, Ellie, for it is clear I shall never be free on earth. Soon my soul will be free of my troublesome body for ever. It will soar into the sky and enter God’s kingdom gladly through gates decorated with pearls. I shall be free, Ellie!”
She gives a harsh cry like the raven when he was caught in the net. It echoes around the chamber and dies away. She does not make another sound, but her body stiffens as if part of it has already died.
“Remember that I go to another paradise, Ellie. It has been a long and dangerous journey to reach it. And we shall meet there, Ellie, for we have done nothing wrong in this life.” I push her from me.
“Will we still recognize each other? We do not know what death will do to us.”
I take off my pearls and fasten them around Ellie’s neck. “I shall know you by the pearls you wear.” Then I take her into my arms and rock her and her body feels as frail as mine. “Goodbye, faithful friend. I shall weep no more for this wicked world, but I shall weep for you.”
The chapel bell tolls again.
It is time. Men have manipulated me all my life, all except Ned. Now they come to murder me.
Will I see him in paradise? According to our faith – no!
Before I write my name for the last time, I ask only one thing.
Remember me.
Jane turns towards my hooded head and I almost stop breathing. I have imagined this moment many times since I decided.
I turn my hand from the axe, palm outstretched, its silver scar catching the light, and she understands. She smiles and her little white teeth shine like pearls and I notice that her neck is bare.
The people around us fall silent as she unties her glorious hair, lighting the winter grey like the day I had first seen her; and they lean forward to catch her whispered words, which they take to be her last prayer: “There is no place on earth for me, dear Ned. I shall only be truly free after my death. But do not wait for death to free you. Strive for freedom as long as you live.”
A single blow. That is all I can do for her. Nobody else could have despatched her better to God. She was right. My freedom has come on earth, and I hope that hers will come in heaven.
Jane lies on the block until evening and I am amazed that so much blood can come from so small a body. But no raven pecks out her eyes or tears at the strips of flesh hanging at her neck.
&
nbsp; As soon as they have taken away her body, I set out on the road north from London where I know the fine forests of England will shelter me – for now.
I have been interested in Lady Jane Grey ever since I was a girl – but she was always just a line in a history book: the unlucky Nine Day Queen. How did she feel when her parents beat her? What did she think when she was forced to become Queen through a loveless marriage? How would she have felt if she had met her soulmate and fallen in love? I wrote Raven Queen to try to get to know her better.
My research took me into a time of bewildering religious change: from a world dominated by Henry the Eighth, who steered England away from the Roman Catholic Church, to a Protestant England ruled by his son, Edward – and back once more to a Roman Catholic England when Edward’s sister, Mary, became Queen after his death.
The Dudleys, Doctor Aylmer, John Ulmis and Mistress Ellen were real people. Ned is not.
Jane was a spirited and inspirational young girl whose life was sacrificed when she was only sixteen to satisfy a lust for power. If you visit Bradgate Park, where the ruins of her home still stand, you will see that flowers are always left at the gate on the anniversary of her death.
Raven Queen is for all those who seek personal freedom. Do not forget her.
Bindoff, S, Tudor England
Brears, Peter, Food and Cooking in 16th Century Britain, English Heritage, 1985
Davey, R, Lady Jane Grey and Her Times, British Library, 1911
Davey, R, The Sisters of Lady Jane Grey
Davies, CSL, Peace, Print and Protestantism 1450–1558, Paladin, 1977
Elton, GR, England Under the Tudors
Forsyth, Marie, The History of Bradgate, The Bradgate Park Trust, 1974
Howard, G, Life of Lady Jane Grey, 1822
More, Thomas, Utopia, Everyman, 1974
Picard, Liza, Elizabeth’s London, Phoenix, 2004
Plato, Phaedo, Oxford World’s Classics, 1993
Plato, The Republic, Penguin, 1955
Plowden, Alison, Lady Jane Grey: Nine Days Queen, Sutton, 2003
Ridley, Jasper, The Tudor Age, Robinson, 2002
Stevenson, Joan and Squires, Antony, Bradgate Park: Childhood Home of Lady Jane Grey, Kairos Press, 1999
Taylor, A, Lady Jane Grey and Her Times, 1908
Weir, Alison, Children of England: The Heirs of King Henry VIII, Pimlico, 1997
has worked as a school librarian and a French teacher, and spent time in Africa translating books before becoming a writer herself. She has written educational stories, such as Sam Stars At Shakespeare’s Globe, focusing on her favourite subject, the sixteenth century, and retold classics such as Oliver Twist. She has also written for young people learning English as a foreign language. She returns to the sixteenth century in Raven Queen, her first novel.
Pauline is married with two grown-up children, and lives in Hertfordshire.
To find out more about Pauline Francis, visit her website: www.paulinefrancis.co.uk
For links to websites where you can read private letters from Lady Jane Grey, learn more about her life and the rules of the Tudor court, find out about the Catholic and Protestant struggle for the throne, and download the Tudor family tree, go to the Usborne Quicklinks Website at www.usborne-quicklinks.com and enter the keywords “raven queen”.
When using the Internet, make sure you follow the Internet safety guidelines displayed on the Usborne Quicklinks Website. Usborne Publishing is not responsible for the content on any website other than its own. We recommend that children are supervised while on the Internet, that they do not use Internet chat rooms, and that you use Internet filtering software to block unsuitable material. For more information, see the “Net Help” area on the Usborne Quicklinks website.
Usborne Publishing is not responsible and does not accept liability for the availability or content of any website other than its own, or for any exposure to harmful, offensive, or inaccurate material which may appear on the Web. Usborne Publishing will have no liability for any damage or loss caused by viruses that may be downloaded as a result of browsing the sites it recommends.
If you loved Raven Queen don’t miss
Traitor’s Kiss
The compelling story of the young Elizabeth I caught up in a scandal that threatens her survival.
Epub ISBN 9781409538301
Kindle ISBN 9781409538318
For more compelling tales of
love and courage
log on to
www.fiction.usborne.com
Raven Queen Page 11
