Her Highness, the Traitor - By Susan Higginbotham Page 0,104
their relentless inventorying: my sleeves, my cushions, even my parrot were duly counted. They conducted themselves politely enough, but the sight of them standing in John’s wardrobe, patiently counting every shirt I had made for him, was hard to bear. Even harder was the knowledge that men were already inquiring about their chances of receiving John’s choicest possessions, secure in the knowledge he would never be freed to reclaim them—or worse.
After two days of this, I decided I could not just wait for Queen Mary to arrive in London; I had to travel to her myself. We had never been close, but our relations had always been cordial, and she had served as godmother to a couple of my children. If I could just be admitted to her presence, I could explain to her that John had done only what her brother wished and that he would show the same sort of loyalty to her if he were allowed to serve her. As for my sons, they had only obeyed the commandment that men honor their fathers. Should they be punished for doing what the Lord himself directed?
As I mounted my horse and settled into my saddle—both carefully accounted for by the queen’s men—I felt my optimism, so long in abeyance, rise. Many of the other men who had supported Lady Jane had been forgiven by the queen. The trick seemed to be seeing her face-to-face. If I could speak for John now, and at least get the queen to grant him an audience, it was entirely possible she might extend him her mercy, as well. At the very least, she might agree to free my sons.
When I set off the next day, I found that the roads toward Beaulieu, the Essex manor where Mary was staying for a few days, were lined with Queen Mary’s followers. Some were soldiers, keeping an eye out for anyone who might foment trouble, for there were still pockets of England that recognized Jane as queen. Others were just admirers or hangers-on, caught up in the excitement of the queen’s bloodless victory and anxious to witness her triumphant entry into the capital. I had planned to break the thirty-mile journey to Beaulieu overnight, as my horse was not accustomed to covering such distances, and my health had not been good over the past few days, but the crowds were so great, there were no reputable lodgings to be had. So I pressed on.
I was five miles outside the queen’s headquarters when three armed men stopped my path. “My lady, in the queen’s name, I must ask where you are bound.”
“Beaulieu. I wish to see the queen.”
“Your name?”
“I am the Duchess of Northumberland.” If only I had lied!
The men looked at each other. Did they doubt my word? I gestured toward my groom, William Bowden, and my waiting woman, Maudlyn Flower. “They can tell you I am who I claim to be.”
“I have no doubt of your identity, Your Grace, but that will do you no good. I cannot let you pass. You must turn back to London.”
“On whose authority?”
“On the queen’s authority, Your Grace. She has ordered that you in particular not be admitted to her presence.”
“I?”
Before the men could answer, I heard horses slowing to a trot behind me, and men speaking in a foreign tongue I did not understand. I turned to see four men, richly dressed in clothing that was not in the English style, and their servants. They were accompanied by a fifth man, of an inferior rank and wearing English clothing, who said to the guards, “These are the imperial ambassadors, sir. The queen sent me to conduct them hastily to Beaulieu.”
“Ah, yes. They are expected.” The guards waved the ambassadors through.
“Wait, I beg of you!” I caught the queen’s messenger by the arm. “Can you conduct me to the queen, also?”
The man stared at me. “And who would you be?”
“The Duchess of Northumberland. There is an absurd misunderstanding. This man says that the queen has refused to see me even before I craved permission to see her.”
“There is no misunderstanding, Your Grace. I heard her give the orders myself. If you attempted to see Her Majesty, you were to be turned away and sent back to London where you belong. Now we must be off.”
The ambassadorial party moved past me, looking in my direction and talking amongst themselves. I could just make out the names “Northumberland” and “Dudley” and “Suffolk.”