A Dangerous Inheritance

You might have made your escape, I think bitterly, but you have left my poor, defenceless sister to face the consequences of your actions. I rise, sketch the briefest of curtseys and murmur a frosty goodnight. I must get to my bedchamber before I say too much and disgrace myself.

I am making my way to my lonely bed, in great torment, when there is a resounding banging at the door to the water-stairs. Hastening in alarm to the hall, I hear men’s voices commanding, ‘Open, in the name of the Queen!’

The Earl arrives at the same time, with Harry and the Countess behind him, and nods to the porter to open the door. There are soldiers with pikes outside.

‘What is the meaning of this?’ Pembroke thunders.

‘Sir, we are sent by the Queen,’ the captain says.

‘Which queen?’ Pembroke barks.

‘Why, Queen Jane, of course,’ the man responds angrily. ‘We are sent to escort you back to the Tower, where you are to attend upon her.’

‘And if I refuse?

‘My lord, we would not wish to use force, but our orders are to see that you obey the Queen’s command.’

‘Very well. My cloak.’ He turns to a servant, ignoring the frightened faces of his household, which has clustered around, alarmed by the banging and shouting. The cloak is brought and the Earl steps out into the night.

Two anxious days later, he is back.

‘It is finished,’ he tells us, as my heart plummets wildly. ‘Northumberland sent news of reports that the Lady Mary was advancing with an army forty thousand strong. His men were deserting like rats, and he urged us to send reinforcements – but there are none, even if we were so inclined. The usurper Jane – or rather her father, Suffolk – ordered the guards around the Tower to be doubled, but there was no point, for the guards were refusing to force people to stay. I, and several others, walked out unchallenged. In fact, Jane gave us permission to leave; I told her we were going to ask the French ambassador for aid for Northumberland. Suffolk wanted to come with us – he’s no fool – but it would be dangerous to be associated with him now, so we told him we would have him executed if he abandoned the Queen his daughter at this time.’

‘He meant to abandon her, his own child?’ The Countess is shocked.

‘He looks to his own skin.’ Suddenly, the Earl notices I am here listening, and remembers that it is my father of whom they speak. His face softens a little.

‘Katherine, I am aware this is distressing for you,’ he tells me, ‘but you have to know the truth.’

‘What will happen to Jane?’ I ask, my voice tremulous. ‘Is all now lost?’ I still ca

‘I fear it is,’ he says. ‘Only three members of the Council remain with her in the Tower. The rest will declare for Mary, mark my word. They are on their way here now. I’m afraid I do not know what will happen to the Lady Jane. No doubt Mary will deal leniently with her; this was not her doing.’

‘No, it was not,’ I say, a touch defiantly. But Pembroke ignores me, and it is left to Harry, all care and concern, to attempt to comfort me. I look long at him, drinking in his fine, honest face, his fresh good looks, his kind eyes and his soft curly hair – as if I might never see them again.

The councillors have assembled in the great chamber with the door firmly closed. The Countess gives orders for di

Then the Earl comes in.

‘Forgive me, my lady, I am not staying,’ he says. ‘I am for St Paul’s. We have decided, all of us, to abandon Northumberland and declare for Mary. The Duke is deemed guilty of treason against his lawful sovereign, and we have summoned him back to London to account for his actions, and offered a reward to anyone apprehending him. For now, I go with the other privy councillors to give thanks for this realm’s deliverance from treachery; and to proclaim our loyalty to Queen Mary, we are having Mass celebrated in the cathedral.’

‘What of my poor sister?’ I cry.

‘Your sister remains in the Tower,’ Pembroke replies curtly, and turns on his heel.

I spend much of the afternoon on my knees in the chapel. I am distraught, on my own account and Jane’s. Will I be accounted a traitor too? And what of my marriage? Will Pembroke really have it a

Yet my peril is as nothing to Jane’s. Repeatedly I beseech the Almighty to be merciful, and to make Queen Mary merciful too. And when I have prayed until I can pray no more, and cried myself out, I wander through the deserted state rooms distractedly, not knowing what to do with myself.

I find myself in the great hall with its fine gallery. Here, seventy years ago this summer, they offered the crown to Richard III; like Jane, he was a usurper; unlike her, he had plotted and schemed – and killed – to be king. I saw a portrait of him once, a thin-lipped man with cruel, wary eyes and a humped back. For he had been evil in appearance, just as he was evil inside: it often falls out – so I have been told – that the two go together. Crookback, they had called him; and he was crooked through and through. But Jane is not evil like Richard. Why should she suffer because of the treacherous schemes of others?

It is late afternoon, still su

I stare back boldly, trying to make him aware of his rudeness and to discern his features, but it is dark up there, and the sunlight through the window dazzles me. Only gradually do I realise that behind the varlet there are three more dark figures. One seems to be a woman in an outlandish headdress; the second is veiled like a nun; and the third appears to be a young girl with long hair. There is a disturbing stillness about all four of the people in that little tableau.

‘Who’s there?’ I cry. The answering silence is u

I must find something to distract me or I will go out of my mind with fear. Returning to my bedchamber, I take out the old bundle of papers and make another serious effort to decipher them.

I have a good idea who might have written them. Harry said it could not have been the William Herbert who was Earl of Huntingdon – but it could have been his wife, who had been King Richard’s daughter. If anyone would have wanted to believe the best of Richard, it would have been her – Katherine. We share a name.

I read over those short lines again. But that is surely a calumny… The use of the word surelysuggests that whoever wrote it wanted to believe in Richard’s i

I peer at the jumble of faded script below, my eyes sca