Her Highness, the Traitor - By Susan Higginbotham Page 0,112

just want a few moments alone with their mother.”

As soon as the door shut behind my daughters, John and I came into each other’s arms and remained there, the room silent except for the beating of our hearts against each other. Finally, I drew back. “Is there any chance that the queen might pardon you?”

“You never give up, do you? No. There’s none at all. Read this. It’s a draft of a letter I wrote to both Arundel and Gardiner.”

Honorable lord, and in this my distress my especial refuge; most woeful was the news I received this evening by Mr. Lieutenant, that I must prepare myself against tomorrow to receive my deadly stroke. Alas my good lord, is my crime so heinous as no redemption but my blood can wash away the spots thereof? An old proverb there is and that most true that a living dog is better than a dead lion. O that it would please her good grace to give me life, yea, the life of a dog, that I might live and kiss her feet, and spend both life and all I have in her honorable service, as I have the best part already under her worthy brother and her most glorious father. O that her mercy were such as she would consider how little profit my dead and dismembered body can bring her, but how great and glorious an honor it will be in all posterity when the report shall be that so gracious and mighty a queen had granted life to so miserable and penitent an object. Your honorable usage and promises to me since these my troubles have made me bold to challenge this kindness at your hands. Pardon me if I have done amiss therein and spare not I pray your bended knee for me in this distress, ye God of heaven it may be will requite it one day on you and yours. And if my life be lengthened by your mediation and my good Lord Chancellor’s (to whom I have also sent my blurred letters) I will vow it to be spent at your honorable feet. O my good lord remember how sweet life is, and how bitter ye contrary. Spare not your speech and pains for God I hope hath not shut out all hope of comfort from me in that gracious, princely and womanlike heart; but that as the doleful news of death hath wounded to death both my soul and body, so that comfortable news of life shall be as a new resurrection to my woeful heart. But if no remedy can be found, either by imprisonment or confiscation, banishment and the like, I can say no more but God give me patience to endure and a heart to forgive the whole world.

Once your fellow and loving companion, but now worthy of no name but wretchedness and misery.

JD

John watched my face as I read, knowing what it had cost my husband to beg in that manner. “I know it doesn’t show me at my most dignified, but I didn’t want to die. I couldn’t help but make one last plea. It was hopeless, though; I received my answer a few hours ago. The queen had made up her mind, and I had no right to expect mercy. But she offered me something else.”

“What?”

“You. The chance to say good-bye.”

I laid my head on his shoulder and wept as John patted my back. Then he said, “I knew on the first day I saw you that I would marry you. Someone told me that guardians often did that with their wards, marry them to their daughters. I wasn’t pleased about it at the time.”

“Oh?” I said dully.

“Later I changed my mind.”

“When?”

“When the old Duke of Suffolk knighted me. Your father was there. My friend—my friend Edward Seymour was there, the people who’d never had much to do with me because of my father were there, but you weren’t there. I missed your presence. I wanted you there to kiss me and tell me you were proud of me. That’s when I realized that I did want to marry you.”

I twined my fingers into John’s. His grasp was as strong as ever. “I can’t even think of when I decided I wanted to be your wife. It seems that I always did. I don’t know how I will bear this.”

“You will. You are strong. Were you there today?”

“Yes.”

“Promise me you won’t come tomorrow. Someone from here will come to tell