Jane Seymour, the Haunted Queen

by Alison Weir

  As she lifted herself into a more comfortable position, she noticed that Henry was looking pensive.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  “There is still plague in London,” he told her. “I cannot afford to take any chances with our son’s health. I’ve ordered that every room, hall and courtyard in his apartments be swept daily and washed down with soap. Everything that comes into contact with him must be scrupulously clean.”

  She approved of his fastidiousness. It was one of the things she liked about him, along with his practical approach. He saw a problem and he dealt with it. It was very reassuring. The anxiety that had sprung in her on hearing him speak of the plague receded.

  “The christening will take place on Monday night,” he said. “Because of the plague, I’ve commanded that the number of guests attending be greatly restricted. But all will be done with the proper pomp and ceremony. I have been giving some thought to choosing the godparents. I trust you will be content with Archbishop Cranmer, the Lady Mary, and the dukes of Norfolk and Suffolk?”

  Cranmer, given the chance, would infect her son with Protestant heresies, if her suspicions of him were correct. At the very least, he would lead young Edward down the reformist path, away from the traditions she herself believed in. Norfolk would play his part, if only because he wanted to stay in favor, but no Howard could ever love a king with Seymour blood. Suffolk, though, was loyal to the King, come what may, and there was no doubt that Mary would love and protect her new brother.

  “I am content.” She smiled. She would not spoil the perfect harmony between them by opposing any of his choices.

  * * *

  —

  Henry might have restricted numbers, but there were still four hundred people present at the Prince’s christening. Late on Monday evening, shortly before midnight, Jane heard them all gathering in the Inner Court below her apartments. She could see through her window the flickering light of many torches illuminating the darkness, as she lay on her ornate bed, on a counterpane of crimson damask lined with cloth of gold. Wearing a crimson mantle edged with ermine, and her hair loose over her shoulders, she received the congratulations of the godparents and the most high-ranking guests. Beside her sat the King in a richly upholstered chair, bursting with pride in his son, who was being much admired.

  Lady Exeter lifted the Prince out of his state cradle, and as she held him aloft, Henry himself placed a velvet mantle with a long train about his son’s shoulders. Three days old now, Edward was wide awake and behaving very well, as if aware of the solemnity of the occasion. Lying on a cushion, he was carried away by Lady Exeter, with the Duke of Norfolk supporting his head, the Duke of Suffolk his feet and the Earl of Arundel carrying his train. Beyond the door stood four Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, who were to hold a canopy of cloth of gold above the Prince as he went in procession to his christening in the Chapel Royal. Behind walked the nurse, Sybil Penn, and the midwife, carrying herself very proudly.

  As the company departed, their footsteps fading into the distance, Jane lay savoring her moment of triumph, and Henry called for wine. They sat there together, holding hands, listening to the sounds of the procession forming below them. It would be led, Henry explained, by knights, ushers, squires and household officers, followed by bishops, abbots, the clergy of the Chapel Royal, the entire Privy Council, all the foreign ambassadors and many lords. Even the Earl of Wiltshire had been invited, although it must be bitter gall to a man of his ambition to see Jane succeeding where his own daughter had failed. But Henry bore him no grudge; he had even allowed him to keep his place on the Council.

  The four-year-old Lady Elizabeth was present too. Henry had decreed that she should take part in the christening, for he wanted all the world to see that both his daughters were happy to give precedence to their brother. It had been arranged that Jane’s brother Edward should carry Elizabeth in the procession, and that she should present the chrisom, the richly embroidered white robe in which the Prince would be clothed at his baptism. The Lady Mary would follow, attended by many ladies. And Thomas would be there, having seen off four French ships and made it to court in time for the ceremony.

  “The lords and ladies will be a goodly sight to behold,” Jane said, wishing she could be present as Archbishop Cranmer baptized the Prince in the silver-gilt font that had been set up on a dais draped with cloth of gold, which Henry had described to her. He had thought of everything. A closet formed of tapestries had been constructed in the chapel, and in it were set a basin of perfumed water and a charcoal brazier, so that the Prince should not catch cold when he was undressed. When the ceremonies were over, the Te Deum would be sung yet again. Trumpets sounded in the distance. Henry smiled at her. The company was returning. Presently, they heard the Garter King of Arms cry, “God, of His almighty and infinite grace, give and grant good life and long to the right high, right excellent and noble Prince Edward, most dear and entirely beloved son to our most dread and gracious lord, King Henry VIII!”

  And then the Prince was borne in state back into the Queen’s bedchamber, with Mary following, holding Elizabeth’s hand, and the guests of honor crowding in behind them.

  Lady Exeter laid young Edward in his mother’s arms, and Jane gave him her blessing. Then Henry took him, weeping for joy, and blessed him in the name of God, the Virgin Mary and St. George. The tiny Prince was becoming a little fretful, so he was carried back to his nursery, and refreshments were served: hippocras and wafers for the nobility, bread and wine for everyone else. Henry ordered that alms be distributed among the poor who had gathered at the palace gates. It was nearly morning before the last guests kissed the hands of the King and Queen and departed.

  “There’ll be much celebrating this day, with bonfires and toasts,” Henry said.

  “And great joy made, and thanksgiving to Almighty God, who sent us so noble a prince to succeed to the crown of this realm,” Jane replied. “I doubt I shall sleep!”

  Henry kissed her good night. “You were perfect, darling. Every inch the Queen. I am so proud of you,” he told her, and left her to rest.

  Jane lay there feeling happy and secure. She still could not quite believe that she had borne the heir, who now slept safely in his nursery. Soon she would be churched and out in the world again, enjoying her new status as the Prince’s mother. She imagined herself teaching her son to read, as—Henry had told her—his mother had taught him, and taking an interest in his marriage, as was a queen’s duty. Her dream of herself and Henry growing old, surrounded by their children, did not now seem so fanciful. And now that he had his cherished boy, Henry would become the benevolent ruler he had been before Anne had made him frustrated and cruel. Jane had always seen the good in him, even as she had deplored his ruthlessness. And Edward’s arrival signaled a new golden age; the courtiers knew it, and the people of England, out there celebrating through the night, felt it too. She fell asleep, dreaming happily.

  Chapter 35

  1537

  At Jane’s command, Lady Bryan brought Edward to see her the following morning, and her heart filled to see that he was contented and replete with milk, and that his swaddling bands were spotlessly clean. He was adorable, her little boy, and as she held him in her arms, she felt such a tug of exultant love that it brought tears to her eyes.

  “His little Grace is such a good child, Madam,” Lady Bryan reported. “He takes his feed and goes to sleep without a fuss. Of course, we have a little cry now and then, but he is easily soothed when his cradle is rocked. And he takes such an interest in everything! Already he is a very forward child.”

  Jane smiled. “I know that I can rely on you to care for him well, Lady Bryan. Tell me, who has replaced you as the Lady Elizabeth’s lady mistress?”

  “Lady Troy, Madam, although I think that Kate Chapernowne had her eye on advancement. But Lady Troy is sound.”

  “I am glad to hear it, as I am
glad that you are looking after Edward.” When Edward had been borne away, she rested until dinner time, when they brought her the salmon she had asked for, in a rich wine sauce with onions and verjuice. An hour or so later, she wished she hadn’t eaten so fully of it, for she began to get griping pains in her belly, and soon she was rushing again and again to the close stool, heedless of the midwife’s orders that she stay in bed. Her chamberers came running to help her, but she was so ashamed of the mess and the stink that she called for them to go away, and herself cleaned up the muck, and her body, where she had befouled it.

  When, finally, the onslaughts abated, she crawled back into bed, feeling ill, weak and drained. Her heart was pounding alarmingly, and there was an unpleasant tingling, especially in her hands and feet. Her women looked concerned, and summoned the midwife. Lizzie sponged Jane’s brow and Margery chafed her hands.

  “Now, Madam, I told you not to get up!” the midwife reproved her. “This is what comes of taking foolish risks.” She was enjoying her brief reign, especially ordering the Queen of England about. “Now your Grace must stay there, and if the laxness comes again, call me.”

  Jane nodded meekly. “I am so thirsty,” she croaked.

  “Bring some wine,” the midwife commanded, “and some milk to line the Queen’s stomach.” The maids did as they were bid, and Jane eagerly gulped down both drinks, but her thirst persisted.

  By suppertime, though, she was feeling much better, and called for some eggs in moonshine, an old childhood favorite that Mother had made by cracking the eggs into a syrup of rose water and sugar. Henry, come to see how she was feeling, regarded them with distaste.

  “They are tasty, Henry. Try a spoonful.”

  He made a face. “I think you should have kept to the broth,” he said. “And now, sweetheart, for your health’s sake, you must get some rest. I’ve seen young Edward, and he is thriving.”

  He doused the candles himself, and left her to settle down, and she slept. But in the night, she woke, feeling very sick, and had to hurry, groping through the dark, to the close stool, where she vomited up a revolting mess of eggs and the marchpane biscuits she had eaten after supper. And then her bowels turned to water again, and she had to call for help, for all that it humiliated her to have her women see her reduced to the lowest state of humanity. After the first violent attack, there were several more, seizing her with relentless frequency. It was all the women could do to keep her clean, and the midwife was clearly frightened by the responsibility she bore.

  “Send for the King!” she cried.

  “No!” Jane protested. “I do not want him to see me like this. And it’s four in the morning; he’ll be asleep.”

  But they defied her, and presently she heard Henry’s voice in the outer chamber, enquiring about her in anxious tones.

  “Sir, she does not want you to go in.” That was Lady Rochford. “Very understandable,” she heard Henry say. “I will wait here for my physicians.” He was squeamish about anything like this, and he had a horror of illness, so she was surprised he was staying at all. But then the griping pains took her again, and she forgot all about him.

  By six o’clock, when dawn was breaking, there was nothing left to vomit up or let loose, but she felt utterly exhausted and ill. The doctors looked down on her as she lay prone in her bed, and their faces were grave. They had examined her urine, had her horoscope cast, bled her to balance the humors in her body, and given her orris root and blackberry juice to drink. They had also sent for the Bishop of Carlisle, her confessor. There was no cause for alarm, they reassured her; it was just to offer her spiritual comfort. She watched dull-eyed as the chamberers did their best to freshen the air for the Bishop’s arrival.

  A learned former schoolmaster of Eton, much praised for his erudition and eloquence, Bishop Aldrich had always been a congenial spiritual director. Giving her a heartening smile, he prayed by her bed and administered the sacrament of unction for the sick, anointing her with holy oil while offering up a supplication for her recovery.

  “Am I going to die?” she asked him. “Everyone seems so worried.”

  “If I thought that, I would have given you extreme unction,” he told her. “Naturally we are all concerned for you, as clearly you have suffered much.”

  “Where is the King?”

  “Still in the outer chamber, in his night robe.”

  “Please ask him to go back to bed. I will sleep now, and hopefully I will feel better for it. But before you go, Father, could you ask my maids to bring me something to drink. This raging thirst will not go away.”

  “Your Grace should drink boiled and strained water,” he advised. “I have found it very efficacious for maladies of the stomach.”

  “Very well, please ask them for some. Thank you.”

  But the midwife decreed that she had never heard the like! “Everyone knows water is bad for you. I’ll send for some ale.” It was duly fetched, and Jane managed a few sips before falling into a deep slumber.

  * * *

  —

  She slept all morning, and when she woke in the afternoon, to a room that had been aired and sweetened with bowls of dried herbs and flowers, she felt much better, apart from a dry mouth and the tingling. She drank some more of the ale, and it did her good.

  Henry was sent for, and was at her side within minutes. “Thank God you are improved!” he cried, kissing her heartily on the forehead. “I was so worried, and so was everyone else. Word got around that you were ill, and people were crowding into the galleries and courtyards. We had to put out a bulletin to explain what was happening.”

  She realized what a lucky deliverance she had had. “My confessor led me to believe it was not as serious as I feared. I thought I was dying.”

  She saw that Henry had tears in his eyes. “So did I!” He grasped her hand. “But you are better now, truly?”

  “Truly! See, I am sitting up in bed. The sickness has gone. I feel much restored.”

  “Then I will go to the chapel and render thanks to God for sparing you. You are so precious to me, Jane. The thought of losing you…” He wiped away a tear. “But now that you are well, we can continue with the celebrations in honor of the Prince’s birth. And—this will come as a great health to you—tomorrow, I am having Edward proclaimed Prince of Wales. Your brother Edward will be made Earl of Hertford, and Thomas is to be knighted. I’m planning to send him on a diplomatic mission, to see how he conducts himself. Does that please you?”

  “How could it not?” she cried. “They must be so proud. Henry, you are so good to me and mine.” It thrilled her to think that, thanks to her—and, of course, in part to Edward’s own abilities—the power and prosperity of her family were now assured.

  * * *

  —

  Two days later, on the Friday, Edward was a week old, and England was still celebrating. Jane was feeling much better now, and Henry had taken to dining with her again.

  “I have a favor to beg,” she said.

  “Hmm?” He deftly carved her two choice slices of beef.

  “I crave that you will pardon the Lady Margaret Douglas. Now that you have an heir, she is displaced from the succession and can no longer cause mischief.”

  Henry nodded. “She shall be pardoned and released.”

  “Both she and I are indebted to you.” She laid her hand on his. “And Lord Thomas?”

  “I hear he is very sick. If he amends, I will set him at liberty.”

  “I am saddened to hear that he is ill. I will pray for him.”

  “It’s more than the fool deserves,” Henry grunted. “And if I do let him out, he had better not try to see Margaret or write any more silly poems to her.”

  “What of their precontract?”

  “Dissolved. I have a mind to marry her to an Italian prince, to forge bonds with the Medici of Florence. They’re very rich. A
nd Margaret will love Italy. By the way, now that you are better, I’m planning to return to Esher tomorrow to make the most of what’s left of the hunting season. But I will be back for your churching, which the midwife tells me will be early next month, if all goes well.”

  “I will miss you,” she told him, “but it is dull for you here. Go and enjoy the chase. I will be all right.”

  * * *

  —

  That evening, when she got up to use the close stool, which was now permitted, she found that the small exertion made her feel unusually breathless. Lying in bed, the shortness of breath persisted, and around ten o’clock, she felt a pain in her chest, and then another. It frightened her, and the more anxious she became, the worse the pain grew.

  Immediately, the King was informed, and he came hastening back, all concern, to Jane’s bedside, his doctors at his heels. By then, Jane’s heartbeat was racing, and the pain was stabbing her every time she took a breath. She was in terror that she would suffocate.

  Dr. Chamber did his best to calm her. “Your Grace is fretting over a trifle. If you calm down, you will feel better. Relax and breathe deeply.” She lay flat, heartened by his words, trying not to feel scared. But even as her muscles unclenched, the pain and the shortness of breath were still there, and her heart was still pounding away. She saw Dr. Butts look anxiously at Dr. Chamber. What was wrong with her?

  “It’s easier if I sit up,” she told them, and they helped her to rise in the bed, plumping her pillows and easing her down gently onto them.

  “Do not worry, Madam,” Dr. Chamber said. “All will be well.” Then he and Dr. Butts disappeared with Henry into the outer room. Jane watched them go with fear in her heart.

  Henry came back, smiling, but she could sense his tension. “They think it’s an ague of sorts, and nothing serious.”