A Dangerous Inheritance

The Duke gave her a sharp look. ‘York must join his brother. I have reason to believe he is being detained against his will by his mother. If that is the case, he should be liberated. Sanctuary was founded by my ancestors as a place of refuge, not of detention, and the boy wants to be with his brother.’

A

‘I will lay the matter before the Council on Monday,’ the Duke said.

Katherine

10th July 1553. The Tower of London.

It’s another glorious hot day. This morning, the royal heralds proclaimed Jane queen throughout the City of London, and from Baynard’s Castle there were fanfares of trumpets. This afternoon, she will go in state to the Tower of London, where, by custom, she must lodge before her coronation. We must all look our best, and my mother has commanded Mrs Ellen to bring me my wedding gown.

At noon, Pembroke summons his barge to convey us to the Tower. At the Court Gate we are received by the Lieutenant, Sir John Bridges, and conducted in procession to Caesar’s Tower. Never before have I been treated with such deference and ceremony, and it really brings home to me the exciting reality of being the Queen’s sister.

We ascend in great state to the council chamber, which has been fitted out as a presence chamber with a chair and canopy of estate. Here the entire Privy Council is waiting, with a great company of peers. They bow deeply, and I am so overcome with the import of it all that I begin to tremble. But Harry is beside me, holding my hand tightly and looking exceptionally handsome in his short coat and doublet of crimson damask banded in black velvet.

Jane enters, preceded by the Marquess of Winchester and escorted by Guilford, her hand resting lightly on his. She is followed by our mother, who is acting as her trainbearer – our proud mother, attendant on her own daughter, if you please, and looking very much like a queen herself in her rich cloth of gold.

At Jane’s entrance, we all sink in deep obeisances, and Guilford bows very low to her as she seats herself in the chair of estate beneath the richly embroidered canopy blazoned with the arms of England. I rejoice for her, yea, and for England too – and I envy her, I do confess it, for I would give much to be in her place. How I should love to be a queen, above anything else!

More wonders! Our father and Northumberland fall to their knees before Queen Jane, bidding her officially welcome to the Tower, and to her kingdom. There too is proud, petulant Guilford, bowing again, almost to the ground, every time she addresses him. What it is to have such power over the great ones of the land! Then Jane leads us in procession up the ancient stairs of the keep to the old chapel of St John the Evangelist for a service of thanksgiving, and I offer the Almighty my fervent, heartfelt gratitude for our great good fortune. Afterwards, we return in solemn fashion to the council chamber.

And now the Marquess of Winchester brings the crown jewels for the new Queen’s inspection. I ca

‘It will be my honour to place the crown on your head, Madam,’ says the courtly Marquess, lifting high that most precious diadem.

‘No!’ Jane says sharply. ‘I refuse to wear it.’

‘More silliness,’ my lady growls. I can only agree with her – what is wrong with Jane, that she ca

‘Forgive me, your Grace, I but wished to see how well it will become you,’ the Marquess protests, much abashed.

‘No, I will not wear it,’ Jane repeats.

‘Your Grace may do so without fear,’ he persists.

‘Very well,’ she demurs, with bad grace, and he places it on her head. She does indeed look becoming, very queenly with her quiet, solemn dignity, and again I ca

Evening has descended, and we are all guests at a great feast served in Caesar’s Tower in honour of Jane’s accession. The tables are liberally laden with choice dishes and the wine is flowing. Minstrels play; there will be dancing later when the board has been cleared. The chatter is deafening, and the chamber stuffy from people sweating in their velvets and silks. I have almost had my head turned by courtiers paying me compliments and outdoing each other to win my favour. I can hardly believe that it is I whom they court – I, who never considered myself very important. But I am the Queen’s sister now, and I ca

Harry is at my side, a little drunk; his hand keeps straying to my breast or my knee, and to my astonishment, Pembroke is looking on benevolently. I feel myself blush under his interested scrutiny.

Harry whispers in my ear. ‘I have great news, my Katherine. I am allowed to come to you tonight. My father is at last content that we should consummate our marriage.’

My heart sings.

‘Are you content?’ he asks eagerly.

I giggle. ‘Of course I am content. I am in heaven!’ He kisses me again, more boldly this time. I am thinking that I have one blessing that Jane does not, for all that she is queen: a husband who loves me, and whom I am able to love in return. And as Harry smiles broadly at me with love in his eyes, it occurs to me what a handsome, noble king he would make – unlike that oaf Guilford.

Suddenly a hush descends on the company. A man has come into the hall. He wears green and white, the royal livery of the Tudors. He strides boldly up to the high table and bows.

‘My lords and ladies, I am Thomas Hungate, come with a letter from Queen Mary!’ he a

There is a stu

‘Where is the Lady Mary?’ Northumberland barks.

‘At Ke

The Duke’s face is suffused with fury; his hands are gripping the arms of his chair.

Keeping his gaze on Northumberland, Master Hungate continues: ‘Her Grace finds it strange that she has received from the Council no word of the King’s death, especially since the matter is so weighty. Yet, knowing you for wise and prudent men, she has great hope and trust in your loyalty and service.’ He bows to the lords again.

‘Nevertheless,’ he goes on, ‘her Grace is not ignorant of your consultations, and can only conclude that political considerations have moved you; she ca