Jane the Confidant

by Leigh Jenkins

  “And if they fight?”

  “Then slaughter them all.”

  ******

  They had not fought. Any courtier with a slice of sense would have bet on the true outcome — that the spineless rebels would cower back, their heads down as they watched their friends, husbands, and sons die the worst deaths imaginable.

  The good times Charles had predicted to return after the rebellion ended did not immediately come. The drought that had accompanied the rebels slowly faded away, and crops once again became available. Emaciated bodies of the dead were still carted away from London, but over the next year their numbers shrank back to acceptable levels.

  As prosperity began to return, the size of my court once again grew. And with the size of the court, grew the feasts, and with the feasts, I once again grew. Never again to the size I had reached before the rebels, but large enough that I no longer resembled those emaciated bodies being carted out of the streets of London.

  The Lady Mary remained with my court, though it broke with precedent, there being no queen to guide her. My advisors had carefully broached the subject of another bride, but after three failed marriages, I rebuffed them. I had my two sons. I saw no reason to risk marriage once again.

  Jane’s second son had lived, almost against odds at first. To make amends with my friend, I had named him Charles, but as soon as possible had sent him to his brother’s court at Richmond. I saw no reason to concern myself with the two sons of Jane, instead dedicating myself to the reorganization of my government, more difficult than ever now that Cromwell was no longer there.

  It was over a year later when my herald, startled by an unexpected visitor, had thrown open the doors to my chamber.

  “Your Majesty, the Lady Elizabeth!”

  My seven-year-old daughter entered, her thin neck holding her head high as she took in my empty chambers. With a slow walk she stopped in front of me, slipping into a small bow. I sighed as I motioned for her to rise, angry that she would force me to move at all.

  “Hello, Papa,” she said gently.

  “Hello, Elizabeth.” Even to me my voice sounded dull and I struggled to sit up straighter for my daughter.

  “I had hoped to report to you about your sons, Edward and Charles,” she said, her bright face smiling up at me. I must have raised an eyebrow, for she smiled at me and explained.

  “My household was reduced and I was sent to Richmond Palace to live with the boys,” she said.

  “Ah, yes,” I answered, although I could not remember ordering this. Perhaps Charles Brandon had; my courtiers had taken on so many responsibilities it was hard to remember who had ordered what.

  “I wish to tell your Majesty about the great progress Edward has made with his studies. And Charles has already attempted to walk!”

  I narrowed my eyes at my younger daughter.

  “I did not send for a report, or for you to be brought here to report to me.”

  “No,” Elizabeth conceded. “I traveled here without your permission.”

  For a moment it shocked me that she would so brazenly admit to having defied me, but looking down into her tough little face, I was forced to laugh.

  “So you did,” I answered with a shake of my head. Elizabeth seemed put out that I was laughing at her, so in an effort to mollify her, I stopped. “But Elizabeth, I do not wish to hear of those boys. They are well taken care of, that is all that should concern you.”

  Here Elizabeth bit her lip and looked away. I let the silence reign, wondering what she would try next.

  Finally she stepped forward, and bowed directly by my chair, taking my left hand in both of hers.

  “Your Majesty, you have given me a great gift in not condemning me for the sins of my mother. I only ask that you extend these two boys the same courtesy.”

  Her words had shocked me into silence. Elizabeth’s attendants had reported that she never asked or mentioned her mother. For her to do so now proved how deeply she cared for these two boys. And she was correct — I had not held Catherine or Anne’s sins against their daughters.

  My avoidance of the nursery had alarmed some courtiers. I had not allowed news of Jane’s treachery to leave the lips of Charles, Mary or myself. However, Mary had insisted Elizabeth be told, and I grudgingly agreed, with the promise that Elizabeth would not speak of it. Therefore, Jane had been buried as a queen, and no annulment had been sought. Her sons were still the princes that I had craved.

  I took a deep breath, and looked down at the earnest face of my daughter. My daughter, whose mother had bewitched me in an effort to win a crown. My daughter, who had been brought to my attention by my other child, who was a product of an incestuous marriage that her mother had refused to release me from. I sighed.

  “Very well,” I said, holding out my arms for her to climb into my lap. “Tell me about the boys.”