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Kat was concerned. “You are really ill,” she said. “Tell me, where is the pain?”
“It is in my head,” I replied, “which has suddenly become very insecure on my shoulders.”
News from London dribbled in. Many had rallied to Mary's ba
I did not write to the Queen myself, but commanded the officers of my household to do so, telling her that my indisposition was the sole reason why I did not hasten to London. They daily hoped for my improvement, but at the time there was no sign of it and they considered that in the circumstances it was their duty to let Her Majesty know of my state.
It was respite. But I knew it could not continue.
Poor foolish Wyatt! He had pla
He surrendered and was sent to the Tower.
I lay in my bed, realizing how much I wanted to live. My future, which had seemed so bright before me, was now filled with terror. There was one thing I dreaded above all else and that was to become a prisoner in the Tower of London. Death did not appall me half as much. Death came swiftly and brought an end to tribulations on Earth, but to become one of the prisoners of the Tower with death hanging over one uncertainly, on and on… day after day… year after year… never to be free… and in time forgotten—that was the most terrible fate of all. It had happened to so many, and especially to those who, like myself, were of royal blood.
I knew I was in greater danger than I had ever been when a party arrived at Ashridge led by Lord William Howard, Sir Edward Hastings and Sir Thomas Cornwallis, and to my intense dismay with them came two of the Queen's physicians, Dr Owen and Dr Wendy, whose purpose it was to decide whether I was fit to travel.
It was late at night when they arrived. Kat hastened to my bedchamber to inform me.
“Oh, Kat!” I cried. “What next? I thank God the hour is so late and I shall have the night in which to prepare my answers.”
But almost immediately there was a knock at the door, and an usher entered to say that the lords and doctors would have speech with me.
“It is too late tonight,” I said. “I will see them in the morning.”
But they would not accept this. They were outside the door demanding admission in the Queen's name.
I was angry as they entered the room. I lay back in my bed gasping with fury. “Is the haste such that it might not have pleased you to come in the morning?” I demanded.
They did not answer but said they were sorry to see me in such a low state of health.
“And I am not glad to see you at this time of the night,” I retorted.
I was relieved that my great-uncle Lord William Howard was a member of the party. Surely he must feel a tenderness for his own flesh and blood.
Dr Wendy came forward. He took my hand and looked at me intently. He was a very clever doctor and I hoped he would not diagnose my illness as fear. On the other hand I remembered his treatment of Katharine Parr when she had been distraught as I was now. He had warned her how to act and had probably saved her life.
They did retire then, saying they would visit me in the morning when the doctors, on the Queen's orders, would decide whether I was fit to travel.
What a night that was! There was no sleep for me. Kat lay with me and we clung to each other. I wondered whether it was the last time we should be together.
In the morning I learned my fate.
Both doctors said that although I was suffering from acute disability and was certainly unfit to travel on horseback, there was no reason why I should not go by litter, and guessing this might be the case, the Queen had sent her royal litter for my use.
I knew then that there was no escape.
Just as we were setting out I heard that Lady Jane Grey and her husband Guildford Dudley had been sentenced to death. I supposed that was inevitable now and no doubt men such as Gardiner and Renaud were pointing out to the Queen the folly of showing mercy to dangerous men and women.
Nature came to my aid and I really was ill. There is nothing like anxiety of the mind to impair the body. It responds to the call of the mind—and this was certainly the case with me. During the journey I was half fainting most of the time, but when we came close to London I aroused myself. I was very eager that the people should keep their regard for me. I ordered that the curtains of the litter be drawn back so that they could see me; and there I sat under their scrutiny—pale but proud—and I tried not to show a trace of the fear I was feeling.
There were no cheers that day. How could they cheer one who was being taken to London, virtually a prisoner accused of treachery against the Queen? But all the same not a voice was raised against me, and I saw the compassion in their faces and knew that they wished me well.
Much good that would do me now. I was caught and it was going to be difficult to prove to Mary that I had taken no part in Wyatt's rebellion.
The very day that I entered London, Jane Grey laid her head on the block. Poor child, she had asked for nothing but the peace and contentment of her books and the companionship of those she loved. Now her i
It was five o'clock in the afternoon when we came to Whitehall and entered the palace through the gardens. At least it was not the Tower. If I could see Mary, if I could explain my i
The suspense was almost more than I could bear and I did not now have to feign illness. I was, in fact, a prisoner; I had been allowed to keep with me only six ladies, two gentlemen and four servants from my own household. The others whom I had brought with me were sent away. Guards were stationed at the doors of my apartments in the palace and none of my household was allowed to leave.
There was one consolation. Mary was under the same roof. If only I could see her! I was i
I begged the guards to take a message to her, and this they did. The reply was that the Queen had no wish to see me.
It was not long before the questioning began. I was interrogated by Gardiner and Lords Arundel and Paget, and I quickly understood that they were all determined on my destruction. They tried to force me to admit guilt. I stood resolute, insisting that I had known nothing of the insurrection and I had had no part in it.
“Do you admit that Lord Russell came to Ashridge and asked you, on behalf of Sir Thomas Wyatt, to remove far from London?”